Momma/Brian.

Last night, and for the next two, I had the pleasure of hosting a very special guest.  Her name is Momma.

Our day care provider is on a much-needed vacation; and being that Donovan and Olivia are at camp this week, Momma was available to come and save the day.

Wanting to be a gracious daughter, I keep pestering her with “Would you like…?  Do you need any…?  Can I get you…?” questions.  Momma’s fairly low maintenance.  As long as she can go home with a haircut, I don’t think she cares what else I have to offer.

Much like I probe the minds of the random bands that crash at our house, I thought it’d be interesting to play with Momma.

I’m giving her a word and she’s replying with the first word/s that comes to mind.  On which of these do you agree?  Are you on the same page or not?

Beans.

*she paused*

*I studied her face in amusement*

Why are you laughing?… I like ’em.

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Wine.

I like ’em.  Some more than others.

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Radio.

Hmmm…  Annoying at times.

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Bathroom.

Relief?

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Route 11.

Potato chips.

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Ma.

We talked for 35 minutes tonight.

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Water.

I like to drink it.

(Good thing!)

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Minivan.

Convenient.

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Cop.

Cop a plea.

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Chop.

Pork.

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Pop.

Soda.

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Deck.

Hole! 

(Uhhhh, yeah.  Brian ripped a HUGE hole in our deck in an attempt to “save” Esther.  Long story.  The crowbar is still laying there.  It looks like a crime scene, minus the blood.)

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Hound.

Esther.

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Christmas tree.

A bit early.

(Pish posh.)

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“Lambies.”

Awwww…

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Pepsi.

Didn’t we just say soda?

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Bennett.

Awww…

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Music.

*slow head nod*  Can be refreshing.

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Crafts.

I don’t do ’em anymore.

Because?

No time.  My fingers don’t cooperate with me.

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Time.

Not enough in a day to do all the things I wanna do.

Like what?

*shrug*  * stumped silence*

(Momma had wine.)

Read a book?  Take a nap?

Not enough time in the day to nap?

*curious, raised eyebrow*

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Seagulls.

*face contorts, attempting to suppress laughter*

There aren’t any around here?  …Are there?

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Cheese.

Yummy.

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Charley.

*She choked up.*

I miss him.  

A lot.  

It just doesn’t feel right.  

He should be here.

*sigh*

I know.  It’s awful.  We stopped to cry, to talk, to listen, to discuss and to just be.  A lot of me didn’t want to bring Charley up, but I’m glad I did.  We’re not pretenders in this family.  We confront discomfort with the greater intention of being real.  She wouldn’t have wanted me to avoid talking about him anyway.  That would have been louder.

 

 

PS: The “Which” Doctor Chronicles continue.  It’s been one week on my new regimen of supplements.  My arms and chest have almost completely cleared up!  The maniacal nature in which I was nearly shredding myself to pieces, utterly out of control, is definitely a thing of the past.  I’d say that the itchiness has gone from a 10.0 to a 0.75.  A fabulous improvement!  Good thing, too, ’cause if I have to stop and listen to Brian telling me to Google one more disease…

Brian, “Hey, you might have scurvy.”

Me, “Scurvy!?  I don’t have scurvy!  I have a heat rash!”

Brian, “Look it up.”

Me, looking up scurvy, horrified at the images.

Brian, looking over my shoulder, “Oh.  No.  No, that doesn’t look like what you have.”

Good grief.