My Family

[Dr. Ivor Yeti]

The trick is to pour it over the head so that it slowly drips into the eyes.

[Greg]

Maybe if I just hold her head under water until the rash goes away.....

(Dear NSA. This is a joke. Not a good joke. One that is in very poor taste. But a joke none the less)

(Get the bail money ready, boys)

(Still joking)

(No, seriously)

[Greg]

I thought I was going to get away clean this morning. Since I was leaving early, I figured I would be gone before my mother got up.

Yeah, no. 

Her mind was busy about all the terrible things I did last week like making decisions without her and withdrawing money from Dad's account to pay for the party expenses.

So, she got up and said we had a few things to discuss before I left. She tried to soften the blow by giving a cross back I had given to my father. Then she talked about clothes I could take from my father's closet.

Then she wanted the credit card back my father had given me to help pay for his travel expenses. Then she wanted both my father's old and new wallets back. Obviously I am not to be trusted. She told me I wasn't raised to behave the way I was behaving.  She was mad I chose the pall bearers without her input.

So, it's a good send off back to Los Angeles. If I wasn't coming back to cover for Roberta while she is on a trip, I wouldn't be coming back.

I just have to avoid yelling my brains out for about twelve days. It's kind of hard to think about my father when all my thoughts are of how angry I am at my mother.

[cranefly]

I trust you returned the plate, too.

[Greg]

Maybe.

[Drunk Monk]

We were discussing the Kübler-Ross 5-stages.  It's a go-to for any psych person when dealing with grief.  Denial Anger Bargaining Depression Acceptance - not necessarily in that order, and not everyone processes through all of them.  Given your mom's reaction, a psych person would pigeon-hole that as denial, as she's focused on entirely the wrong thing and not engaging the reality of it all.  That would coincide with my casual observations of her over the weekend, as I never saw her really mourn.  It was more like a social event for her where she was in the spotlight.

But regardless of Kübler-Ross, if you ask me, she's just bat-shit crazy.  I often marvel on how you came out as a reasonably adjusted human being, which I must attribute to your dad.

Have a safe ride back to Hell-A.  Some morning dog walks will surely do you good.  

[Greg]

Is bat-shit crazy the medical term?

My mother has always had a deep streak of narcism. She loves the role of grieving widow. Unfortunately, she is slowly, oh so slowly, coming to grips with the downside of not having my father around to take care of her. None of the children feel up to the task, nor do we want it, of fulfilling that role.

For instance, on the day of the viewing, rather than rending her clothes and covering herself in sackcloth and ashes, she went out to get her nails done. I'm just saying.

[Drunk Monk]

Is bat-shit crazy the medical term?

My mother has always had a deep streak of narcism. She loves the role of grieving widow. Unfortunately, she is slowly, oh so slowly, coming to grips with the downside of not having my father around to take care of her. None of the children feel up to the task, nor do we want it, of fulfilling that role.

For instance, on the day of the viewing, rather than rending her clothes and covering herself in sackcloth and ashes, she went out to get her nails done. I'm just saying.

Bat-shit crazy is a DM term, a DOOM term.  Can't blame you or your sibs.  Her narcissism absolves you all. 

You know, in retrospect, I can't remember really offering her my condolences. My bad if I didn't.  She came at me too quickly, wanting to show off me as a TV star to whoever was sitting next to her at the time.  It was awkward.  

Nails.  Wow.  Just wow.

[cranefly]

I did give my condolences to her nails.

I've been wondering how this will affect your trips to the Bay Area, as I suspect the main draw was paternal.  With me, it was maternal.  Since my mom's passing 2 and a half years ago, I haven't been back to Indiana.  I feel bad about that, because I have a sister back there, and nephews and nieces and grand versions of those that I'd really like to see as they grow up; but it just doesn't feel the same without Mom back there.  The very foundation is gone.

Then there's the politics of Indiana.

I suppose for you it's different, because the filial responsibility is still there, in some form, and there's the need to give your sister (sisters?) a break.  Anyway, these are the thoughts I've been having, in the context of my own relationship with "home."

[Dr. Ivor Yeti]

Why is she still allowed to make decisions? Get her declared incompetent and ship her off to an I-5 Death Camp for Seniors.

Any discussion amongst you sibs about institutionalizing the old harridan?

[King Bob]

Putting my mother in assisted living was one of the best things we've ever done. She was becoming unable to take care of herself and in-home "care" (non-medical) is ridiculously expensive. Still it took a while to get her to agree to it. But I imagine your mom is younger and with less dementia, so she could think it over better. Probably just as attached to the house though.

[Greg]

Ah, the dream of assisted living. There is a place she likes, actually, but it has a two year waiting list. And, yes, she likes her house.

I'm back in the Bay Area for ten days to watch over my mother while my sister, Roberta, goes on a much needed vacation.

Since, there is no safety set, I'm doing my best to be civil. It's a lot of work.

For instance today, when we were out doing errands, more errands than I wanted to do, she asked if I would go to a meeting of her timeshare people.

What kind of mother invites her son to a Timeshare sales meeting? That's just wrong.

[Greg]

The day started with a list of chores, small ones, my mother wanted me to do on the kitchen table. Okay, the day didn't start with that, I had already put out all the garbage barrels and fed my sister's terrorist cat, but that's what was waiting for me when I sat down at the kitchen table.  

Then I'm down in the basement working away when the intercom buzzes, annoyingly. My mother wants to know if I would like to come upstairs to help her with the bills. Uh, no. Greg's working, like he's been doing every day. I'm kind of crazed because I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and I want to get there. I tell her I will be done around 5.

My mother needs to go to an ophthalmologist to get her cataract surgery scheduled.

I tell her just to make an appointment this week. The only day I am unavailable is Wednesday when I have the Haggis coming over to do a sound check on the movie.

So, my mother just used the intercom to call me, again,  to see if Wednesday at 9 or Wednesday at 2 would be a better time to go to her appointment.

I just have to make it through Friday.

[Greg]

Boy, those gasoline cans sure look nice on the bridge. Yes, they do.


Last day. Things are tense. I don't have a lot of fucks left to give. Especially after the remark that we are a lot alike.

[Dr. Ivor Yeti]

Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock...