you know, when my dad died, it never made me cry. Pa, never called him that either. PA is an abbreviation for our closest available major chain grocery, Forks, the city of Twilight, only has the IGA sort of chain, which doesn't count, I think, because it's IGA and not a SAFEWAY or something of that volume. But any, PA is also short for 'professional association' which I think of Willison's Cottage being, since that's the kind of counseling offered by my little sign on the chainlink out front of the house. And do you know, that darn new roof has leaked again in all the rain we've just had...the nerve of it...I been tarring and the cat's been dropping little chickadee feathers on the backdeck...thank heavens they don't come together to railroad a body out of town, b ut you know, the kind of conversation I had with my son this morning, it could come to pass...I know you're guilty of this because this is how I remember it being
I went through all those guilt trippy novels back in the day, come to think of it, every book I ever read by Sholsenitzyn was like that...a few by Nabakov...can't blame roach guy Kafka for describing the descent into insecthood but when your nimbly able browbeater son decides the warpath is the way to fly...you just don't step out of the way, you look for clues, like the fact his father was adopted, hehe...the errant gene idea.
Well his father is long gone down the street playing with farm animals on Facebook, I think, or dating the really goofy girl that my brother says took on the entire Tacoma Dome in a game of RISK.
Not to be a slanderous fool here but I was totting up my own game record and thinking that Id done my own share of ice scraping...or whathaveyou if you want to know the truth about it. Can't say that I get into really being honest about how much do I love my children, because it's a multifaceted concept, parenthood, has its pros and has its cons. Like the neighborgirl who works at the county park begging for them to put in the bridge to the beach where they take it out every winter which I wish they wouldn't do but put it back and leave it that way because for too long every year we don't have anything. I don't even want to know that she has to beg and politic her way into getting the bridge back down to the beach where it should be.
I don't want to know that she has any influence over it. I just want to be able to walk to the beach whatever time of year it may be and cross that bridge like I always could before, when the kids were little, before it washed out. I don't like that it washed out either. I don't think that we should have lost our park, our picnick areas and tables and little houses in the brush of the woods...the woods nearly washed away by the tides because the county has better things to do (according to the park employee). I don't know what better t hings the county has to do than attend to the beautiful beach we have here. I guess they know what they're doin'...
I was on about my son ranting at me about his horrible childhood. ...talk about an inexperienced young mom...somehow I feel exploited by our conversation, since I nearly died giving birth to him (I was hospitalized with a seizure from vomiting due to morning sickness). In my experience, I have never held that over his head, that I was so ill. What I did tell him was that I waited a long time before I had any other children, I got so sick with him. I did love being a pregnant mom, that fat belly with the little life growing inside it, the big clothes, the deep hunger and deep satisfaction of a good meal consumed. They cut me open like a pot roast to make passage for him, he was slapped up on my stomach red and blue and shivering. They took him away and I didn't see him again till the evening. I had a caudal bloc, numb from the waist down. Grandfather came to visit and was most cheerful about it all, wearing a purple shirt and looking debonair, because he was a lawyer and an Army Colonel. Husband was always uncomfortable around me and the baby only made it more so. It didn't last, the marriage, because it was a contrived version of something never given the freedom to grow on it's own. If anything, my son's father is more incoherent than I am, but then, we know who the bad buys are, the ones that get angry...ever so often this son's father calls and wants money he says I owe him...as far as I know he's been paid and paid and paid, but he keeps realizing that he could get more if he says he didn't get any..it's interesting that the main reason for wanting to blackmail one's wife is that one has certain issues one must face, the major of which is that one's father was a prosecuting attorney at Nuremberg...something else we don't talk about, my son and I...you can't walk around with that much guilt about the rest of the human race and not have some negative biofeedback. Grampa liked to tell how the remaining Krauts tried to blow up his jeep on the way to work one morning. He also tells of the German family member he went to visit while stationed at Geoppingen, a person who had been in the SS. That family member left the room when Gramp walked in it but his daughter came to visit when I was expecting our son. I wore this terribly short black and white flowered pique mini that I had made myself and we went sightseeing. She worked for unilever and her name was Ermgaard Thieme. I should look her up and see if she remains. She could speak Arabic and six other languages. She was a white blonde and she was nice. My son doesn't know the half of it all...and neither do I but I don't think I know how to be mean to him even if he's trying to make me bite back, I just don't know how.
Adele at the Library asked about Willison Cottage as did Paul the bus driver. Special Ed teacher asked how much I said twenty an hour and it's not the licensed PA variety talk your ear off, it's that other, basepolitically motivated rap about who to blame, like Hitler did to the German people, got them all tranquilized and neutralized so he could initiate genocide...this time around it's to help identify body parts their function, if they function, regardless of age, who knows what spaceship they're dumping us all off of...we are the garbage of the universe in that we beat our spouses, our children, our fellow man...right?
well, my son's not to blame for his father doing that to me but I do consider that I might be more sympathetic to his issues about his childhood if I hadn't been battered by his father. After we divorced, as a result of that incident, he didn't really live with me again until he was 15 and it was court ordered. At that time, I didn't have my own place and was living with my parents, but it worked out and soon enough we got our own apartment, wherein he would have the groceries eaten up by the first week of the month, be out partying and getting up late for school, sleeping with his girlfriend in his bedroom (like that's ok now, but I never felt too good about it). She later was killed in a car crash, and that's what he's all upset about now, that his significant other passed away from cancer last night. Yeah, he was a handful but I didn't go to his college graduation because he was causing problems his senior year and then he was gone, because I asked him to go, I screamed at him to go and he physically threatened me. It was sturm and drang for sure but it's like that one move of Crowe's that I like to watch, the one where he almost marries the Latino chick and they fight all the time...really 80's material with the hair and clothes, my son was a product of the 80's and we just kind of hashed out everything that we could hash out. He kind of went from place, got an inheritance from his Grandfather and his Aunt that amounted to two hundred thousand, which he doesn't have a penny of now because he ...well...I can't say what he did with the money because I don't know. I know he didn't buy me a new car or pay the mortgage... There's lots of things I could throw back to him when he says I was unfair in some way or another about what he did or didn't do, but when it comes down to it, he's not very generous with his time or anything else, rather if he's hurting, I'm a target. Kind of like a mean drunk needs a target. One way or the other he's going to do what he is going to do...I think in families you kind of forgive one another's behavior but between him and my brother's wife running my daughter's wedding last year, I dunno, is forgiveness the blue that means a broken heart? I meant to type glue that mends a broken heart , I guess so, so never felt their behavior was anything to be too upset about it was their behavior that wasn't appropriate, right? Anyways, doggiewogs wants to get on down the road and so do I...haven't had visitor number one here today and I've been on the pc all afternoon...whew...poor number one son, feels bad...don't blame him for feeling that way, guess I should go visit real quick but I don't know how I can do that, and he's coming home the end of the month...what an excuse to go to hawaii, hehe...how to permanently estrange your 40-year old child with countless words of wisdom (they won't listen to)...and that countless words of wisdom phrase I think comes from a song, maybe a Simon and Garfunkel, which when I presented the music to my mother she said, "what's that supposed to be about?"
I went through all those guilt trippy novels back in the day, come to think of it, every book I ever read by Sholsenitzyn was like that...a few by Nabakov...can't blame roach guy Kafka for describing the descent into insecthood but when your nimbly able browbeater son decides the warpath is the way to fly...you just don't step out of the way, you look for clues, like the fact his father was adopted, hehe...the errant gene idea.
Well his father is long gone down the street playing with farm animals on Facebook, I think, or dating the really goofy girl that my brother says took on the entire Tacoma Dome in a game of RISK.
Not to be a slanderous fool here but I was totting up my own game record and thinking that Id done my own share of ice scraping...or whathaveyou if you want to know the truth about it. Can't say that I get into really being honest about how much do I love my children, because it's a multifaceted concept, parenthood, has its pros and has its cons. Like the neighborgirl who works at the county park begging for them to put in the bridge to the beach where they take it out every winter which I wish they wouldn't do but put it back and leave it that way because for too long every year we don't have anything. I don't even want to know that she has to beg and politic her way into getting the bridge back down to the beach where it should be.
I don't want to know that she has any influence over it. I just want to be able to walk to the beach whatever time of year it may be and cross that bridge like I always could before, when the kids were little, before it washed out. I don't like that it washed out either. I don't think that we should have lost our park, our picnick areas and tables and little houses in the brush of the woods...the woods nearly washed away by the tides because the county has better things to do (according to the park employee). I don't know what better t hings the county has to do than attend to the beautiful beach we have here. I guess they know what they're doin'...
I was on about my son ranting at me about his horrible childhood. ...talk about an inexperienced young mom...somehow I feel exploited by our conversation, since I nearly died giving birth to him (I was hospitalized with a seizure from vomiting due to morning sickness). In my experience, I have never held that over his head, that I was so ill. What I did tell him was that I waited a long time before I had any other children, I got so sick with him. I did love being a pregnant mom, that fat belly with the little life growing inside it, the big clothes, the deep hunger and deep satisfaction of a good meal consumed. They cut me open like a pot roast to make passage for him, he was slapped up on my stomach red and blue and shivering. They took him away and I didn't see him again till the evening. I had a caudal bloc, numb from the waist down. Grandfather came to visit and was most cheerful about it all, wearing a purple shirt and looking debonair, because he was a lawyer and an Army Colonel. Husband was always uncomfortable around me and the baby only made it more so. It didn't last, the marriage, because it was a contrived version of something never given the freedom to grow on it's own. If anything, my son's father is more incoherent than I am, but then, we know who the bad buys are, the ones that get angry...ever so often this son's father calls and wants money he says I owe him...as far as I know he's been paid and paid and paid, but he keeps realizing that he could get more if he says he didn't get any..it's interesting that the main reason for wanting to blackmail one's wife is that one has certain issues one must face, the major of which is that one's father was a prosecuting attorney at Nuremberg...something else we don't talk about, my son and I...you can't walk around with that much guilt about the rest of the human race and not have some negative biofeedback. Grampa liked to tell how the remaining Krauts tried to blow up his jeep on the way to work one morning. He also tells of the German family member he went to visit while stationed at Geoppingen, a person who had been in the SS. That family member left the room when Gramp walked in it but his daughter came to visit when I was expecting our son. I wore this terribly short black and white flowered pique mini that I had made myself and we went sightseeing. She worked for unilever and her name was Ermgaard Thieme. I should look her up and see if she remains. She could speak Arabic and six other languages. She was a white blonde and she was nice. My son doesn't know the half of it all...and neither do I but I don't think I know how to be mean to him even if he's trying to make me bite back, I just don't know how.
Adele at the Library asked about Willison Cottage as did Paul the bus driver. Special Ed teacher asked how much I said twenty an hour and it's not the licensed PA variety talk your ear off, it's that other, basepolitically motivated rap about who to blame, like Hitler did to the German people, got them all tranquilized and neutralized so he could initiate genocide...this time around it's to help identify body parts their function, if they function, regardless of age, who knows what spaceship they're dumping us all off of...we are the garbage of the universe in that we beat our spouses, our children, our fellow man...right?
well, my son's not to blame for his father doing that to me but I do consider that I might be more sympathetic to his issues about his childhood if I hadn't been battered by his father. After we divorced, as a result of that incident, he didn't really live with me again until he was 15 and it was court ordered. At that time, I didn't have my own place and was living with my parents, but it worked out and soon enough we got our own apartment, wherein he would have the groceries eaten up by the first week of the month, be out partying and getting up late for school, sleeping with his girlfriend in his bedroom (like that's ok now, but I never felt too good about it). She later was killed in a car crash, and that's what he's all upset about now, that his significant other passed away from cancer last night. Yeah, he was a handful but I didn't go to his college graduation because he was causing problems his senior year and then he was gone, because I asked him to go, I screamed at him to go and he physically threatened me. It was sturm and drang for sure but it's like that one move of Crowe's that I like to watch, the one where he almost marries the Latino chick and they fight all the time...really 80's material with the hair and clothes, my son was a product of the 80's and we just kind of hashed out everything that we could hash out. He kind of went from place, got an inheritance from his Grandfather and his Aunt that amounted to two hundred thousand, which he doesn't have a penny of now because he ...well...I can't say what he did with the money because I don't know. I know he didn't buy me a new car or pay the mortgage... There's lots of things I could throw back to him when he says I was unfair in some way or another about what he did or didn't do, but when it comes down to it, he's not very generous with his time or anything else, rather if he's hurting, I'm a target. Kind of like a mean drunk needs a target. One way or the other he's going to do what he is going to do...I think in families you kind of forgive one another's behavior but between him and my brother's wife running my daughter's wedding last year, I dunno, is forgiveness the blue that means a broken heart? I meant to type glue that mends a broken heart , I guess so, so never felt their behavior was anything to be too upset about it was their behavior that wasn't appropriate, right? Anyways, doggiewogs wants to get on down the road and so do I...haven't had visitor number one here today and I've been on the pc all afternoon...whew...poor number one son, feels bad...don't blame him for feeling that way, guess I should go visit real quick but I don't know how I can do that, and he's coming home the end of the month...what an excuse to go to hawaii, hehe...how to permanently estrange your 40-year old child with countless words of wisdom (they won't listen to)...and that countless words of wisdom phrase I think comes from a song, maybe a Simon and Garfunkel, which when I presented the music to my mother she said, "what's that supposed to be about?"
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