Everything is black and silent. I am immersed in a sort of nebulousness around which I cannot quite wrap my mind, and, for the life of me, I am unable to reconcile the last moments I can remember, the ones wherein I was sitting out on the porch with the kids, with this new reality in which my arms and legs are fastened in place.. affixed to something. I am confused and disoriented. There is a sharp pain searing through my spine. Am I paralyzed? No. I try to free myself from whatever is binding me, but my efforts are futile and ultimately to no avail. Slowly, the little soldiers in my head begin to sift and sort and rearrange themselves until my mind manages to narrow in on some semblance of reality. Read more
He comes into town “for a visit,” and I am abundantly aware of the never-works-out-ness of that notion, but, nevertheless, I arrange and rearrange my schedule accordingly so as to accommodate their (not) presence… as if I don’t know better. I am the brilliant creator of my own misery here. Of this, I am certain.
By late morning on what is supposed to be day two of “the visit” but has ultimately morphed into day one owing to one debacle or another on the day previous that found them arriving in the small hours of day one (previously meant to be day two. Are you following me? Imagine my vexation.), I’ve still received no word of their location or itinerary for the days ahead, so I elect to go about my morning as if they were not in town, doing laundry and fetching groceries and such, when finally he phones. Read more
I’m making my way into Wal-Mart when a Girl Scout races over all the while shouting “Do you want to buy some Girl Scout cookies?! Do you want to buy some Girl Scout cookies?!” Of course I do, you calculating goblin. Typically, when I stumble upon a cookie-selling crowd, irrespective of the shape of their intention, I make a mad dash for some semblance of refuge that is entirely out of their field of vision, as I am not above the likes of an unhealthy relationship with food (which is my cryptic way of saying I want to rob the Girl Scouts and eat all of their cookies all at once). Last night, however, as I was politely expressing my no-thank-yous, the little (insert expletive) all but tackles me and goes on to say “but it will help us go to camp.” Read more
We’re a little over a mile from home, sprinting almost frantically in an effort to maintain a great breadth between us and our pursuer, who, from this distance looks like a bear-shaped dinosaur dog that may be a well-intended and gentle giant, but we certainly don’t have any way of knowing, and I am entirely unwilling to slow down and find out, so we continue to hasten our way back home. With the five of them depending solely upon me for their health and well-being, I very rarely leave anything to chance… Read more