Back for a short interlude in which we discuss my views on the state of Texas

Today we're talking about Texas, specifically my opinions about Texas. 

But first, a comment about Blogger. Lord'aMercy, if I don't post frequently I forget how to do it. Has taken me the better part of half an hour to get here. Good grief. Anyway, on to Texas. 

I've been to Texas a time or two, but not recently. By not recently, I mean forty-some years. I rode (Daddy and my stepmom Mary drove) all the way through Texas... in the summer. It took about three weeks, IDK. It was hot as balls, but many parts were absolutely beautiful. 

Texas has a reputation for being BIG. And geographically, it is, relative to other states in the contiguous US. Texas has a huge attitude about itself, too. Texans think mighty highly of themselves, and good for them. Live and let live. I'm not here to get into the politics of Texas. OMG no. Back away from that mess. 

I'm gonna let Texas be Texas, respect it/them for being Texas, and move on with my life away from Texas. I respect Texas's right to be whatever they want to be, admire the beauties therein, appreciate its economic bounties and products. And honor her from afar. Because I don't want to mess with Texas. I want to leave Texas to itself. 

And that's what I have to say about Texas. 

Oh Hi!

 Oh hallelujah! I figured it out! Great googley moogley. I decided to post again but couldn't figure out how to get here. It's been a while. 

I had something to add. The thought occurred to me this morning. It took a while to get here. Something about signing in with various accounts. I have more than one. The browser I usually use knows me as one thing, this blog knows me as another thing. It's complicated. But I'm here! 

I wanted to say something about the Ever Given stuck in the Suez Canal. What a mess. We're all learning more about international shipping these days. I'm fascinated. 

OK, I want to talk about my weight. It's significant, and I mean that in many ways. I'm over 300 pounds now. Also, since we last "spoke", I have developed Type 2 Diabetes. No surprise, really. It was virtually inevitable, the way I eat. I have an A1C check next week and yeah, I'm trepidatious. (I'm getting a report saying that's not a word. I will ignore it.)

I'm embarrassed to be this heavy. Uncomfortable, too, obviously. It's hard to maneuver a ship this big (see what I did there?). But I also like to eat, especially sweet things. Compulsively, if I understand the meaning of compulsive. I'm willing to (I say to myself) reduce the amount of food I eat, in moderation. That's the thing. I want to be "moderate" about NOT reducing my intake. But I can cut back, I think. 

I just had a V-8.

OK you guys....

All you sex fiends have gotten to me. (This is not a new thing). Passed by a business this morning while driving on the main North/South road through town, the sign said Blow Job Buffet. Well, that's where my mind went, anyway. It was BJ Buffet, with one large B, a J superscript and -uffet in line with the B. So, you know, Blow Job Buffet. I've never eaten there.

But that also reminded me of my favorite location of IHOP, the one in Gastonia, NC on Cox Rd. You know, the IHOP on Cox. I've written about it before. Had a spooge pancake there once. Cream cheese frosting spooge, so sweet not salty.

What have you done to me? (I take most of the blame, don't worry.)

Well, since I'm here, I might as well tell you a few things. I've been estivating this summer. It's so much more hot out there than decency allows. So I'm staying inside. If I need to see a healthcare professional or whatever, I schedule appointments for first thing in the morning. Just this morning at 8:00 I saw my therapist.

So, I'm cheating on my long-time therapist, seeing someone new. She works in the same office as my psychiatrist, so that's convenient I suppose. My long-time therapist, we've been together for I think 12 years and the client/counselor relationship has broken down until we're mostly just friends. I want to keep her as a friend. I like her a lot. We haven't done much real work in ... a few years? We have fun, though. Figured it was time to get some work done, so now I'm seeing a new gal.

And here's the trouble. We've had 3? 4? sessions, and we're still taking history. I'm 56 years old. I have a lot of history. I talk a lot, too. Get distracted frequently. So getting all the history is gonna take a while. And it isn't particularly pleasant. Woke up this morning thinking of a time in my teens when things weren't going well. Sexual abuse was involved. I fucking don't want to talk about that today! So we didn't. But we covered some background that sets the stage for that discussion, which I won't want to have when the time comes. I didn't like the other things we discussed, either, but it wasn't as bad as the one thing.

I've been inside, at home, most of the summer. You'd think with all this time at home I'd take the opportunity to blog a bit. Obviously you're wrong. Oh, I had plenty of time, I just didn't do it.

Some good news: Sproing moved out!! He's living with a family friend in Los Angeles. He left here on the 6th of June, flew to LAX. This friend, W, is 60, a social worker supervisor. (I think) (He has a PhD and a big-ish office in one of the state behavioral health clinics.) He's black, as is Sproing, and I think all these things are helpful for the kid. The kid is 20 years old now. Our plan with W is for the kid to learn how to be a grown ass man. (W's words!) I heartily agree. Sproing will start GED prep adult ed next week, and has a line on a job working with a car detailing business. Thing about Sproing, he always has grand intentions. Follow through? Kinda iffy. But he is OUT OF MY HOUSE and I'm a' celebrating!

Did you know that it's STILL fucking August?? I'm dyin' here, guys. I hate August. It's too long. Twice as long as most other months (if you go by impression and not that calendar technicality thing). Only one more day of this stinkin' month, thank the gods, but holy hell. I'm over it. Have been for weeks.

September isn't much better, tbh. It gets pretty good, mostly, toward the end, but the difference between the last week in August and the first week or two of September is indistinguishable at this latitude and elevation. At least the name of the month changes and has a hopeful ring to it.

I'm old enough to talk about my health issues. If you don't want to know, skip to the next paragraph. I'll be brief (probably). Colonoscopy time has come around on the guitar again. It's been five years, so yeah, it's time. Gonna do that next Thursday. Can't hardly wait. (sigh) And in early October (because they're book that far ahead) I get my boobies squished! Yay? Last year there was a suspicious lump, they biopsied the thing, it was a cyst (I have lots of cysts in lots of places) so we're back to our regularly scheduled annual mammogram. Coming in October to a clinic near me.

I (Superman) planted some flowers in our front yard this year. They look kinda good. I have pictures captured on my phone, which I'll figure out how to transfer and post here if you give me a few minutes.

I'm still trying. Had second breakfast in the meantime, this time with protein. Plain Greek yogurt, frozen blueberries and dark sweet cherries, granola, and a dash of cinnamon. Delicious. Now I'm going to ask Google how the hell to get these pics from my iphone 6 to my laptop. I'm connected umbilically, can find what I think is the phone on my "This PC" folder. Please hold...

Oooh! Finally! I have (I think) three USB ports on my computer. For reasons I don't understand, only one of them will acknowledge my iphone's existence. I can charge the phone from the other ones, but only this one will actually communicate with the damned computer. Of course I used the wrong USB port. Suddenly I got inspired to connect to another port and ShaZZam! Pictures (all 500+) are currently being downloaded. I only want to post a few, I promise!

Please hold... The problem seems to be that my phone is from Apple and my laptop isn't an Apple product. I have itunes on my computer, and the pictures, all 500+, are saved to itunes, but I can't get itunes to send them to my desktop or my pictures folder. Stand by...

You know what? Screw it. The picture function is locked, frozen, not responding. So yeah, I planted (Superman did the work) flowers and they are blooming in my yard. Some sunflowers, lots of morning glories. Potted geraniums, salmon colored. Very nice. I bought them, didn't raise them from seeds. Also bought some petunias in a variety of colors. So do an image search if you want to see what those flowers look like, but it won't be the ones from my yard.

Good grief.

In other news, Light married J!! On April 21st. We spend the previous weekend in Troy, New York at Breen Acres with Sassybear and his husband Jeffrey. It was a truly marvelous visit. Seriously, it was perfect. We left there Monday morning, drove across the states of New York and Pennsylvania to Indiana, PA where Light and J live. It's a long drive. East to west. Indiana is about an hour east of Pittsburgh.

Monday through Wednesday we stayed at the state park near Indiana, PA in a yurt. It was nifty. The weather was cold (it snowed two of the days we were in the yurt) but the yurt had a built in heater. We were comfortable, but it was a bit chilly. I like chilly. (Ref: complaint about how long and hot August is.) Thursday the family began to arrive (our family, not J's*) so we moved to the hotel where all Lucy's people were booked. Man, what a blast. Only one of my brothers was able to come, he and his girlfriend. What a hoot. Man, we had such a good time. I DO have pictures of all of the wedding, but the ones I took on my phone seem to be destined to stay there. (FUCK)

Wedding pictures:
Oh fuck a duck. They're trying to download but right now EVERYTHING on my computer is running at a snail's pace, even my solitaire game. We'll get back to the photographs another time.

And honestly, besides our purchase last weekend of a brand new couch with reclining outboard seats, the first new out of the box sofa we have ever had as long (35 years) as we've been married, which we allowed ourselves now that ALL THE KIDS ARE OUT OF THE HOUSE!!!, and of which I have a picture that I can't download, that's all I have for now.

much love to all

*J's family, the ones he wanted at the wedding, all live in western Pennsylvania so they just drove in for the day, didn't stay at the hotel... Wait, there were a couple of his girl friends (not sweetheart type girlfriends) that stayed over, but at a different hotel. You know the drill. Anyway, we did eventually all get together and had loads and loads of fun. I really do want to share the wedding pictures, and will eventually (probably).

Dressing

We rarely eat salad, yet we have all of these salad dressing bottles in the refrigerator. Oh wait, that one second from the end on the right is a hot barbecue sauce. There are three more barbecue sauces in the refrigerator, plus over half a dozen hot sauces, but that's Superman for ya'. You might notice there is no honey mustard dressing in the lineup. That, of course, is what I wanted on my eggs this morning.

I have been sick for over a week now. Yesterday brought a new experience to the week + of bronchitis. Some sort of intestinal monster attacked me. You may know how this goes. In the morning my stomach felt unsettled, which I took to mean I needed to eat a little something mild. Nope, that's not what it meant. Reverse peristalsis ensued. I'm glad I only ate a little bit. Plus of course diarrhea. (I've been practicing spelling diarrhea. So far, so good.) Then I took my sorry self to bed and was most grateful that gut cramps abated to let me sleep. All day.

Feeling much better this morning, and hungry to boot, I fixed myself some fried egg. Dry fried, mind you. Oh please, no extra grease! I made egg-in-a-nest*, which I most enjoy with a touch of honey mustard dressing atop.  Eh, had to settle for a light spread of mustard, to which I added a sprinkle of Parmesan cheese ("shaking cheese" we called it when the kids were little). 'Twas good, and so far my stomach seems satisfied. I'd be in pain by now if it was going to complain.

And I haven't been dressed in two days. My scalp tells me we need a shower and shampoo. A good idea, indeed, but I'm procrastinating. Or, perhaps, waiting for the washing machine to finish so I get good water pressure for my shower. Yeah, let's go with that one. Sounds better than "I'm too lazy to even get off my arse to shower."

The dress!! As I mentioned in my last post, I made the second sample dress for Light's wedding, took it to her, discovered what was wrong with it, came home all ready to make sample dress #3. That tightness in the lungs I mentioned previously turned into a frustrating bout of bronchitis. Feeling much better, but I'm still wheezing. And my inhaler (albuterol) doesn't seem to help much. No bueno. My goal for last week was to get a good start on the next dress. I get sick-stupid if I'm sick enough, and I was sick enough to not trust myself to properly cut out the material. Over last weekend I managed to cut out the adjusted pattern pieces.

There's this great stuff from Pellon called Tru-grid.
  My Mama took a sewing class last year and was taught to copy the sewing pattern pieces onto this tru-grid, which is gridded (duh) interfacing material. It's much more sturdy than the tissue paper that patterns are printed on. I've already used the tissue pieces a few times in making the samples and the paper is getting damaged. I need to make size changes and adjustments to the pattern, so voila! I (finally!) got that done over the weekend.

There were appointments and errands to run on Monday, and then something else happened (I have no idea what) to prevent me from sewing then. Yesterday was a sick (OMG) day, so perhaps today I can actually get to the fabric part of this project. After a shower, because eww. I should add pictures. I have the second sample dress here I could photograph. Perhaps I'll update this post with pictures, or maybe write a whole new post. Who knows? It's a wild and crazy life here.

*I've also heard it called egg-in-a-hole or egg-in-a-basket.

Poetry and a bit of rambling

This needs to be said:

Scintillate, scintillate, globule vivific,
Fain would I fathom thy nature specific.
Loftily poised in the ether capacious,
Strongly resembling a gem carbonaceous.

The internet tells me this poem is by John Raymond Carson

I saw the word "fain" in my A.Word.A.Day daily vocabulary email and recalled this poem. I had to look it up to get all the words right. Then of course I had to share it with you.

If you'd like a word every weekday in your mailbox, and I recommend it, subscribe at https://wordsmith.org/awad/subscribe.html 

One of my favorite parts of the Word.A.Day email is the "thought for today" which is a quote, usually from someone famous, sometimes having to do with world events, most frequently from someone who was born on said day. From last Thursday: 

We should not be simply fighting evil in the name of good, but struggling against the certainties of people who claim always to know where good and evil are to be found. -Tzvetan Todorov, philosopher (b. 1 Mar 1939) 

My goodness I sound like a commercial. Don't mean to! Honestly! 

I spent most of last week in western Pennsylvania with Light and her fiance. I sewed the sample dress to take up there for the fitting. So glad I did, too, because it is all wrong. I learned a lot about how NOT to put together this dress. Useful information, though somewhat frustrating.  I have all the materials I need to make a third sample dress, and that's my project for this week. I've barely begun, and right now I'm extremely tired. 

My lungs started feeling tight yesterday. I've been using my inhaler, so yay me. I have a bit of a cough; it's rough and unproductive. And oh lordy I'm so tired. When I finish this post I plan to take a nap. 

And since anything else I can think to tell you is too complicated to jot down quickly, I believe I'm finished. 

nighty-night

I try to live a relatively low drama life. Doesn't always work out that way.

So Valentine's Day has been fraught with angst many times over my lifetime. Sometimes it's good, sometimes not. Honestly I wonder if somehow the date is cursed. Wasn't there a huge Valentine's Day Massacre in Chicago perpetrated by the mob 100 years ago? Yeah, 1929, so not quite 100 years. This year we get another massacre. There's a lot going on about that. I'm super proud of the students for speaking out, and have real hope for the first time in a while that perhaps the legislators will make significant changes. Dan Savage had an interesting proposal on his Lovecast podcast this week. Suspend all gun sales for 30 days after a mass shooting. There's more to what he said and I can't articulate it well right now and I've come to talk about a more personal Valentine's Day kerfuffle.

Twitch was born on Valentine's Day in 1991. As much as I love my son and am proud of the man he's become, I did not want to have a baby on Valentine's Day. Wasn't my choice, though, was it.

This year I was chillin' at home, enjoying the peace. I'd made some crispy rice treats for Twitch, planned to deliver them (big double batch) to the restaurant where he works to celebrate his birthday and so he could share the goodies with his coworkers. I also wanted to make nice with the crew at the restaurant. It's my favorite place in town. I've mentioned it before. Beer and brick oven pizza. Yum.

I was waiting for Twitch's shift to start, was going to deliver the goodies around 5. At 4:30 I got a call from, of all places, Turbeville, SC, from the prison where Sproing has been incarcerated. This woman was calling to tell me that Sproing was being released. Today. Right now. Can I come pick him up?

Immediate anxiety "episode". I hesitate to call it an attack, because I can still breathe, my heart rate only elevates a little bit. I dunno. I wasn't comfortable. Shit.

First thing I told her was "Do you know where I live?" I assume she looks at her paperwork there, says Greenwood. Yep. Do you know how far away Greenwood is from Turbeville? No, I can't drive all that way right now. She says we can meet in Columbia, which is a good halfway distance from both locations. Well shit. I do NOT WANT TO DO THIS!

We agreed on a location in Columbia to meet. I got off the phone and pitched a fit. Lots of cussing. Lots of I don't want to do this. But it needs to be done, and I do what needs to be done. Adulting sucks sometimes. So after giving myself a pep-talk I took the treats to Twitch, told him I had to get his brother, and went to get his brother.

I won't bore you with the details. They're tedious anyway. After a few calls back and forth on the cell phone of his driver, we met at the agreed location. It was easy. He got out of the other car, said goodbye, got into my car, and OH SHIT SPROING  IS HERE, GOING HOME WITH ME, SHIT I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS. Breathe. Breathe. I breathed a lot last Wednesday.

This came totally out of the blue. I thought he would be in prison for another year, year and a half. Surprise!

Shit. So he's home. It's gone well so far, but he's still on his best behavior. He needs to get the FUCK out of my house. I keep dropping hints. hee hee.

But I'm not home right now. I'm at the most bestest coffee shop in all of western Pennsylvania. I'm visiting Light in Indiana, PA. Indianapa. She's getting married in less than two months, and I have the sample dress for her to try on. Did I mention I'm making her wedding dress? Well, trying to, anyway. It's light lavender satin with a white lace overlay. I've not sewn these fabrics before. I got a length of satin and some lace with which to practice. I got most of the dress constructed before I left home, but there's a little bit left to do. It's been a royal pain in the ass, especially the lace overlay.

I need to go do other things right now, and I'm pretty sure the time on my parking meter has expired. Perhaps I'll post again soon, maybe with photos of the sample practice dress.

More updates, per request

After reading my last post, the update on my four children, Mark asked about C, the young gay man who lived with us for a while. "A while" turned out to be 12 years, off and on.

Here's some background, for those who may be new or have forgotten the story. I'll try to be brief. In the spring of 2005 C told his mom he was gay. He had previously come out to my daughter Light. They were good friends in high school. C told his mom not to mention it to the stepdad, who's a douche canoe, but she did and stepdad said "not in my house!" So things prevailed and he ended up here.

Up until then Superman and I had been active members of the PCA, a conservative Presbyterian denomination. You know, conservative Christian: anti-gay, anti-abortion, etc. I hadn't personally considered my thoughts on homosexuality in a long time, just went with the flow of what the church taught. But then I met C, and quickly began to question that ideology. I pretty much immediately fell in love with C as a human being. (Not romantic love, none of that foolishness. Good grief, he was 17 years old! And gay!) No, my Mama Bear instincts kicked in. In short, he moved in with us. It was spring of his senior year in high school, he was a few months away from graduating and turning 18 when he was kicked out of his home. What kind of hateful crazy is that?

He had begun a relationship, his first gay love, about that time. So then his boyfriend moved in too. All four of our kids were still here. Light is a year younger than C. It was kinda crazy, especially with Sproing and Diva being batshit emotionally disturbed. I was heavily medicated.

After a couple of years maybe (I didn't keep close track of the timing of these things) C and his boyfriend moved to their own place. Shortly thereafter they broke up. C lived in a couple of other places for another few months, but was not doing well. He was being evicted from an apartment and was hungry. He finally, the prideful fool, called me. Good grief. And I told him to stay in contact, but ... I dunno. He was young and proud and foolish. So yeah, he moved back in.

Moved back in, started another relationship, long distance, with a minor (17 yr old) in North Carolina. Can't remember what nickname I called him. C and I drove my truck up to his home near Charlotte, NC and moved him out of his mom's house on his 18th birthday. Mom was upset, called the cops, but there wasn't anything they could do because he was an adult, legally.

I consulted with one of my blogger buddies with a law background about all of this. He cautioned me to NOT bring the boy home until after he was an adult. Especially crossing state lines, man, I could have gotten in a heap o' trouble.

That relationship was doomed from the start, really. The education/intelligence/maturity difference between the two boys was insurmountable. But C was 18, maybe 19 by then, and knew everything so I let him learn on his own. The two of them lived here for a little while, then moved into another apartment as roommates with another gay couple their age. In true daytime drama fashion, that exploded. C developed a loathing for the NC boyfriend and a huge crush on the younger man of the other couple. By "younger man" I mean he wasn't even 18 yet. And it was an unrequited crush.

C broke up with the NC boyfriend a few days before NC's birthday in October. The kid was crushed. As contentious as the relationship had become I don't understand why he was so surprised. So C moved back here and so did the other young fellow. They were "just friends" according to Young Guy, but C carried a torch, you know? They were here for a lot of months, maybe as long as a year, when Young Guy moved out. I can't remember how things situated with C at that point, but I know he moved out a little while later. Each time he moved out he'd not stay in contact. Pissed me off. And he didn't keep a consistent phone number, not being able to afford to keep the phone on. Typical of independent young people in my experience.

He showed back up on our doorstep, hungry and homeless once again. This was right after Diva moved out for good. I had C physically clean and spiritually cleanse her room. We repainted it for him to move into that room. Such better energy with him there than when she was living in it, OMG! Diva moved out toward the end of the year in 2015, about a month before her 18th birthday. He moved in before Christmas, if I recall. He was here until last spring, I think, so about a year and a half.

Then his mother called. Remember his mom? The one who together with her husband the douche canoe kicked C out a decade ago? Well, her husband decided to divorce her. Why she ever married the fool in the first place I will never know, nor why she stayed with him for so long. OK, I know why she stayed. Because Jesus said so. Which is of course why she kicked C out of the house, too. So now she's getting divorced and moving into her own apartment. She's a registered nurse working in one of the hospitals in the Charleston, SC area. She has never lived alone. She lived with her mom until she married C's dad. They divorced when C was 5 or 6? Maybe 7, I dunno. She then married Douche Canoe almost immediately (that's how the young C remembers it). Now she's middle aged and alone, so she decides that C should come "home" to live with her in Charleston.

He has been working at Captain D's seafood establishment (I hesitate to call it a restaurant, though technically it is, I suppose) since he was in high school, again, off and on. By now of course he's an assistant manager. Or a manager but not the big boss manager. I don't know how these things work. Anyway, he was able to transfer to a store in the Charleston area. He's been living with his mother (OMG how did that happen? What were you thinking?) for going on a year here in the spring. I talk to him occasionally, once every couple of months. He says he and mom are getting along well. They disagree about many things, but respect each other's differences.

They always had a good relationship as C was growing up, right there until the end. They're mother and son, but also good friends. I'm happy for him, He seems to be doing well. He concentrates all his energy on work, hasn't made any friends of his own as far as I can tell. Last time we talked I encouraged him to get out and meet people. Now that he lives in the greater Charleston area there's a better chance of meeting like-minded (gay) people. He'll be 30 years old this June. IMHO he needs to get a life.

I love him dearly, like a son even. I miss him. I'm glad he has a good relationship with his mother and I wish he'd spend more effort maintaining the relationship we have. I should call or text him more often, myself.

And that's the story of C up to this point.

Update on All My Children (mine, not the daytime drama)

Some of you have asked for updates on my children. Ready? GO!

Light
Light is 28 years old now. She finally graduated with her Masters of Fine Arts about a year ago. She still lives in western Pennsylvania (where it gets seriously cold) about an hour east of Pittsburgh. The barista job was a good one, but she outgrew it. She's now a baker in a bakery two blocks from her apartment. I got a call from her last week: "Mom! It was 60° yesterday and today I'm walking to work in 4 inches of SNOW!" From all accounts, she loves her job. One of her bosses is a French man who loves me. I know this because he speaks with a French accent and he gives me sweet baked goods every time I visit.

And she's getting married!! In April. In Pennsylvania. To a transgender man. It's fitting, since Light is bisexual or possibly pansexual, I'm not sure if it matters, but marrying a trans man, kinda getting a bit of both? Anyway, he's a lovely young fellow, a couple of years younger than Light, named J. He graduated with a BA in religious studies and some kind of English composition thing the same semester Light graduated. He wants to go to grad school for to be a writer of poems or maybe fiction I think. The grad school he most wants to go to is in Nebraska. I'm not crazy about the idea of Nebraska. Not that there's anything wrong with Nebraska, necessarily, but it's far far away from South Carolina.  J has some health issues, possibly Rheumatoid Arthritis though that hasn't been diagnosed. I worry about him. He says I worry too much.

So I'm focused on the wedding. I will be making her wedding dress. We have the fabric, the pattern, and I made a "muslin", a trial run with the pattern in some unimportant fabric. It needs tweaking. And it's time to start seriously working on it. Yeah, as soon as I can move again. (Creak, Groan, Other Old Lady Noises)

Twitch
Twitch will turn 27 years old on Valentine's Day. He's doing so well! I'm proud of him. He's always been a bit behind the curve socially. I'm sure he's on the Autism Spectrum, though high functioning. He also has Tourette's Syndrome; thankfully he has grown out of a lot of his more obvious tics. He's got a great job now. He worked at Arby's for a few years after he graduated from college (with a degree in graphic design, a profession he's never worked in). Last year he achieved employment at our favorite brick oven pizzeria and beer micro brewery. By all accounts it's a fantastic place to work and he does good work. He's in the kitchen making sandwiches and other entree stuff. The pizza station is behind the bar, very public, everybody watches. Twitch, his mother's son, doesn't like being on stage like that. He can make the pizzas but prefers being in the kitchen.

The crew there has a family style closeness. Employee turnover is rare, slow, whatever ya' call it. Twitch seems to fit in well. He's a unique guy, kind of an acquired taste, and I think the crew accepts him well, uniqueness and all.

Twitch has the adulting thing under control. Yes, he's young and makes choices I think aren't as wise as perhaps they should be, but overall he's truckin' along. Pays his bills, fulfills his obligations, helps out his mom and dad occasionally. It's good.

Diva
Oh boy. The Diva lives in Greenville now, in her own apartment I think. That's what she tells me anyway. OMG she showed up on our doorstep one afternoon last spring. I opened the door and stood there staring at her, stuttering, opening and closing my mouth in goldfish fashion. She laughed at me (kindly, not cruelly) and said "you're speechless!" I'm rarely speechless. We hadn't seen nor heard from her in maybe 18 months. I kinda freaked out. Ended up taking her out to IHOP for late lunch. We made friendly conversation.

I haven't seen her since, though we have communicated by email a few times. Her birthday is December 4th, and I sent an electronic birthday greeting. She wrote back, mentioned a book she was reading (reading a book?! Oh wow!) and wanted the next book in the series, so I ordered it from Amazon and had it sent to her. In doing so I learned her address. Looked it up on Google street view. It ain't fancy, but isn't gross either. She's working in fast food still, perhaps two jobs, I'm unclear about details. She also said something about being a manager. I think she means assistant manager, but I could be wrong. The girl has moxie, chutzpah, and a tenuous grasp of reality so she's likely to try things that I doubt she has aptitude for. Perhaps I'm underestimating her and she can do more than I believe of her. Her book smarts are weak, but she's got a particular social intelligence that takes her places.

Superman wants nothing to do with her. A brief synopsis: when she left home at 17-and-three-quarters, he helped her get into an apartment very close to the store where she worked. The deal was she would pay two thirds to three quarters of her rent, he'd pitch in the rest. They had specific monetary amounts in this deal. Since she wasn't 18 yet, she couldn't sign the lease, so of course Superman did. Then, surprising no one, she reneged on her responsibilities. Actually didn't pay a cent if I understand the situation. Ended up, after rent payments and penalties and fees, he was out over $3000. Even worse was the betrayal. She seemed to be so capable, was acting all responsible for a minute, and he had great hope. But true to form, she broke the faith. She broke him, a little bit. Definitely broke that relationship.

I now approach her with caution. I want to remain in contact with her, to check up, see how she's doing. I care about her well-being. But I know from sad experience how much she can hurt me, how she's turned on me every time in the past. I don't want her all up in my bid'ness, do NOT want the drama that constantly surrounds her! Pretty sure she doesn't want me in her business either. But it's good (bittersweet?) to know where she is and how she's doing.

Sproing
Sproing. Now there's a topic. Cut to the chase: he's in prison. Big boy prison. The real deal. Projected release date August of 2019. He'll be 21 years old then. Now, there's a possibility he'll get out earlier, but I don't know and neither does he. He's incarcerated in the Turbeville, South Carolina facility. Before he went there I didn't know that Turbeville, SC existed. I don't think there's much there except the prison. Florence, SC is the closest city.

He's in prison now because he violated probation. This is for his 2nd degree burglary charge he got in August of 2016? I think. He's been on probation for two years and hasn't fulfilled his obligations, but did fail a drug test. He smokin' da weed, mon. Not that I care about it, but this state does. His probation officer does. I'm not sure if it was the drug test or failure to pay any restitution that put him in prison. But there he is. He had a court appearance in mid September to review his probation and the judge said "Nope. Do not pass go, do not collect jack shit, go to jail." Prison, actually.

I was in Florida at the time helping my Mama move from the Orlando area to Merritt Island. And avoiding hurricane Irma. Can't remember where Superman was, but iirc he was out of town, too, for a couple of days. Anyway the dog and cat needed tending and Sproing was gone. Think I called Twitch to come do pet duty until his dad got home.

I don't even know what to say about Sproing. I'm disappointed, nay heartbroken that he has gotten himself into this situation. I strongly suspect racial profiling plays a part in how he got to this point, but he did in fact commit burglary in the 2nd degree. The young'un has aligned himself with criminal peers, gone to places where he would look suspicious, and blatantly broken the law a number of times since he was still a juvenile.

Sproing talks about wanting to get his GED, go to college, play college baseball then try the pro's. That baseball talk sounds implausible to me. He could probably get his GED if he concentrated and applied himself. I know he could get into college with a GED, but whether he'd succeed there is another matter. He's smart enough, but unless many things change, he's not disciplined enough. He also talks about wanting to help out around the house, help take care of Superman and me.* But when he's here he's rude and disrespectful, reluctant (or blatantly refuses) to do any kind of chore we ask of him.

In conclusion
Superman and I now have the house to ourselves! Well, plus the cat. Did I tell you the dog died? It was very sad. He was only four years old when he got sick last November (October?). We didn't notice anything amiss until he was very sick. No, it was in September when I was still in Florida. I spent most of September in Florida. Superman took him (Oreo the dog) to the vet, who ran blood tests the results of which came back with weird numbers. Like, the leukocytes outnumbered everything else so that they couldn't find the other blood component they were looking for. iirc. Honestly, the details escape me now. Oreo had Leukemia with complications, like some kind of serious infection that couldn't heal. Oh, he was bad. Superman and I took him to the vet to be euthanized. It was sad. Hard. He had been such a good dog, Sproing's dog, and Sproing hadn't taken good care of him. Of course we took up the slack providing for him, but he didn't get the kind of attention and exercise he needed.

So, to get back to my story, see, we're left with just the cat, who is right now sitting on my forearms as I attempt to type this. She's kinda heavy. Although successful, it isn't easy. Black Fuzzy Cat don't give a shit.

But let me tell you, we LOVE the empty nest! We do not at all miss having young people live in our house. When Sproing gets out of prison he will NOT be moving back in. (Dunno what he's gonna do; we'll worry about that as time approaches.)

Oh! P.S. Diva is 20 now, and Sproing turns 20 this Wednesday, January 24th.

*It's Superman and me because if I left off the first person mentioned, the sentence would be "... help take care of me." It's not difficult to figure out. "Help take care of I" is obviously, painfully wrong. So, simple check, if you were to only mention yourself, would you say "I" or "me"? Whichever fits there is also the word to use when saying "(the other person) and I/me". Thus ends the grammar lesson.

The mind is willing, the flesh is sore AF

Two days now since I took a tumble down the stairs. Well, slipped on ice at the bottom of the stairs. I fell, that's the point. Some things no longer hurt. Some things hurt worse. This stopped being fun a while ago. The muscles between my hip bones and ribs do not want to support me properly. Looks funny when I move. Feels not-funny when I move. I have hope for tomorrow. In the meantime I believe I'll stay right here. 

WTF is going on with our government? Either I'm less ... what, patient?... with the DC shenanigans or it's gotten worse. Looking at Twitter last night (which is where I am more often than here or Facebork these days) I got fed up. As the kids say these days, I Can't Even. The ridiculous nature of our healthcare payment system started me off. Then the congressional lollygagging, sniping, and not-so-passive aggressiveness irked me further. Republicans and Democrats are acting not unlike my misbehaving bickering children used to. Grow up, assholes. And what's with the ever present pain in the everything that is our Leader who can't lead for shit? How did this happen? So I told Twitter I was gonna split for a while. Not sure I'll keep to that resolution, but it felt good saying it last night.

I joined a gym Monday. Planet Fitness. Should be good. Then Wednesday I fell and went boom. I'm sure I need to move these muscles, keep 'em from kinking up too much, but I also need to not overtax the damaged tissues. I don't know how to do that, so I'ma stay home for a couple more days.

With a positive turn here, I really like this cold weather. Here in South Carolina it isn't so brutal as it is, say, in the Northeast, Mid Atlantic, Midwest. We've had low temperatures in the single digits, but mostly mid teens. Nothing below zero Fahrenheit.* I strongly prefer this weather to the preposterous temperatures we'll experience in six months. My sympathies go out to the unfortunate souls in Australia right now.

Also also, I got the wrong kind of yogurt to go with my frozen berries. Too tart, and I think it isn't the Greek style stuff. Yeah, first world problems.

*OMG!! I just spelled Fahrenheit correctly on the first try!!

Public Education Failure(s)

I just learned something about South Carolina public high schools. I was checking to see if school has been canceled for tomorrow. We got 2" of snow today and the whole district is closed. With low temps around 14° F tonight and wet roads, no school tomorrow. While on the local school district website I discovered this little tidbit of information:

Instruction

• Act 155 (H.3919) passed by the General Assembly and signed into law by Governor Nikki R. Haley on April 14, 2014, states in part "Beginning with the graduating class of 2015, students are no longer required to meet the exit examination requirements set forth in this section and State Regulation to earn a South Carolina high school diploma."

   

  A person who is no longer enrolled in a public school and who previously failed to receive a high school diploma or was denied graduation solely for failing to meet the exit exam requirements may petition the local school board to determine the student’s eligibility to receive a high school diploma. The elimination of the exit exam (BSAP, HSAP) requirement is retroactive to the graduating class of 1990.

   

  In order to facilitate the requirements of Act 155, Greenwood School District 50 has created a form that can be filled out by a petitioner who meets the requirements mentioned in the above paragraph. Please read the guidelines document and if you meet those qualifications, fill out the Petition form below and follow the directions for submission.

   

So it is now possible, with no checks on the system, to graduate from high school in South Carolina being functionally illiterate and innumerate. This does not bring me comfort.

No, I don't have any kids, or any connection to anyone employed in the school district. I check because I want to know if I'll run into school children when out and about. I saw some kids in our neighborhood today out running through the snow, looking for enough snow to build some kind of snow creature or make snow balls. They looked like they were having a blast. Makes me happy, as long as they aren't my kids, you know?

I took Superman to the doctor's office this morning. He's got some kind of non-flu virus cold thing and an ear infection. Snow on the trees, fences, fields looks so lovely. And the way snow (gentle snow, anyway) falls so silently - it's beautiful. The roads were clear, everything was fine. Most of the snow melted today, but with overnight temps so low, it'll be more dangerous tomorrow.

On my way back out the door to pick up Superman's medicine I slipped on the bottom step of our front stoop on the fluffy snow that had been packed down and iced over by our earlier tromp to the car. Slipped and fell on my ass, hit my mid-upper back on the brick step hard enough to give me a touch of road rash, and oh, my back! It's very twitchy. If I'm stationary it doesn't hurt much. If I move in certain directions, twist just wrong, Ouch! Have just taken another muscle relaxant and analgesic. Took some earlier and had a lovely nap. I'm tired anyway, so as soon as this stuff hits me I'm a goner.

Superman helped me get up off the ground. He recommended I come in to change clothes, but I was just going to the drug store and I don't give a shit. Also was already in the yard and didn't want to go back up the steps to try again. But while I was at the drug store I bought myself a red heart-shaped box of all dark chocolate covered assorted candies. Because poor poor pitiful me. Haven't opened them yet, and I just brushed my teeth, so I'll save 'em for another day.

Tired. Going to bed now. Goodnight.