03-06-2013, 07:49 PM
Lady Cranefly called me last night to see how things are going. I'm in Indiana visiting my mom and relatives. Things have not gone as smoothly as I would have liked. My mom's care is a weird hybrid of conventional medicines and questionable alternative medicines. The biggy is a nutrient powder mixed into a large thick fruit smoothie. Mom struggles every day to drink it down, and her lower GI tract is forever bloated and giving her discomfort. I dared suggest that maybe she should cut down on the amount. After all, too much fruit can cause bloating and gas and impair absorption. I got yelled at for my troubles by my brother in law, and now I've got him, my sister, niece and her husband all pissed at me for daring to criticize their approach. According to them, my mom needs to drink ALL of it every day or it won't do her any good.
I tell Lady Cranefly about this over the phone. She promises that when I'm old and feeble, she won't make me drink some large concoction like that every day. I tell her I would just appreciate it if she would promise never to photograph me nude in the shower stall and then stab me 15 times, drag me down a hallway into another room, stab me another 20 times, then shoot me in the forehead and dump me in the bathtub.
Lady Cranefly hesitates, then tells me that such a promise would impinge too much on her freedom of choice.
I tell Lady Cranefly about this over the phone. She promises that when I'm old and feeble, she won't make me drink some large concoction like that every day. I tell her I would just appreciate it if she would promise never to photograph me nude in the shower stall and then stab me 15 times, drag me down a hallway into another room, stab me another 20 times, then shoot me in the forehead and dump me in the bathtub.
Lady Cranefly hesitates, then tells me that such a promise would impinge too much on her freedom of choice.
I'm nobody's pony.