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Friday, June 20, 2014

My dad irritated me this morning...

...so I said, "I hope your next shit is a porcupine." He responded, "And you're supposed to be the smart one?" Then he went on to illustrate how each of my siblings lack the senses of humor that goes along with being bright. (If you doubt me, just ask a Jew, I've never met one that wasn't witty and clever...and certainly not stupid.)

With that one comment, my father unwittingly let on that he believes something that I have always known...I AM the brightest one of the 6 children produced by my mother and (according to my mother) my father.

I have brothers who aren't smart enough to realize the benefits of a cohesive family. But, I haven't seen them in quite some time so I wasn't too sure that I was smarter than they but, as I said, my father, who would know...just said so. Nyuk Nyuk.

Of course I knew I was brighter than either of my 2 sisters who once got together on a birthday gift for me that was a charm with the word BITCH written in gold three times. So, I don't mind the risk that I might hurt their feelings by saying that I am smarter than they are. Besides, I'm pretty sure they already know.

Now...how to break it to my father that I am also much brighter than he?

2 Comments:

Blogger lisa wojeski said...

God, you make me laugh!

July 09, 2014  
Blogger Meg Kelso said...

That's what I'm here for! So glad to see someone is here! It could actually bring me back!

July 10, 2014  

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Wednesday, June 18, 2014

I have a brother who...

...is an asshole. Actually I have 2, but today I'm discussing the one who broke my nose when I was in a sleeping bag and couldn't fight back.
I was chatting with someone who remembered some of my brothers antics, but most of them were simply signs of cowardice. He hid in the bathroom when the photographer came to take the annual picture of our growing family. He screamed, kicked and eventually was dragged in front of the camera so now we have pictures of his snotty, red, swollen face and the rest of the clan.
He also was terrified of barbers and cried throughout every haircut and he shrunk his boy ass down so that his head came nowhere near the signs that told you how tall you must be to "ride this ride" at local amusement parks.
Even though my mother's dying wish was for her children to take care of each other, a couple of my siblings took her cash and ran, never thinking about what she wanted.
Now they're ignoring my 80 year old father. He wasn't perfect (who is?) but neither was my mother.  I love her and miss her something awful but I never refuse to look at the truth. And, the simple truth is, my parents, like the rest of us, did the best they could on any given days with the tools they had on that day. They meant well, slipping sometimes but none of us were buried in the crawlspace so I think it could have been much worse.
I say this not to bitch at my chicken shit brother for ignoring our father on Father's Day and hanging up on me when I called to invite him to my father's 80th birthday. It's more about me and my kids.
Last month, on May 23rd, I had a heart attack. I stayed in cardiac care until the following Tuesday when they took me to a floor. But within 2 hours of that move, I went into respiratory failure and almost died for the second time in 5 days. I went back to CCU and spent some time up there before going back to the floor. While I was in between near death experiences, I spoke to all of my kids.
I was diagnosed with Broken Heart Syndrome ( it sounds more ominous in Japanese which is the language used to identify it, but I can't remember how to spell it.) Anyway, it boils down to Broken Heart Syndrome and I have it. It was bad enough to actually cause a heart attack with damage to my heart muscle, but this too shall pass.
The point is, I may be much younger than my father, but seriously, how many more special days are there left for me? My father certainly has less...maybe not, but he hopes so as he does not want to bury any of his children.
I still have the Broken Heart thing and literally, a broken heart. The only thing that could break my heart more is if I couldn't have a relationship of some sort with my children and my favorite humans ever, my grandchildren. I assure you...I would not be here if it were not for them. (By the way, I have another grandbaby coming!)
When I think of my broken heart, I have to wonder what it does to my father when the boys he shuttled to sporting events and paid college tuition for, have totally erased him from their lives. A phone call from one of them would not only show that they have a touch of class, it would let them grow older proud that they didn't give in to the negativity life tries to suffocate us with.
My father's heart may or may not be broken, but with so few Father's Day's left, does it matter? One 5 minute phone call would spurt so much good karma into the world and the lack of the call does nothing but create pain at worst and negativity at best.
One of my brothers married a rather stout selfish woman who never wanted to give my brother kids. I always resented her for that. My other brother never married anyone young enough to have any eggs left so he avoided parenthood altogether.
When the karma they send out every day comes to bite them in the ass, they will be truly alone in this world.
Just remember this, forgiveness is for the person who forgives, not for the one who has been forgiven. Until you forgive another person, you will never benefit from that scenario.

BTW...To my kids, call me soon please! Preferably with grandchildren around but I'd like to chat with you. Skype if you can, you might have to call me to get me to the computer!

Love you!.

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Thursday, June 05, 2014

Cats Are Jealous of Me

Sorry to be gone so long. I just spent two weeks in critical care after they told me I had a heart attack. It turned out to be broken heart syndrome, Then, a few days later, I went into respiratory failure 2 hours after they transferred me to the floor, so back to CCU. This is what I had:

http://www.heart.org/HEARTORG/Conditions/More/Cardiomyopathy/Is-Broken-Heart-Syndrome-Real_UCM_448547_Article.jsp

2 Comments:

Blogger pipe dreams said...

I still love you after all that we have been thru .!!!!

June 16, 2014  
Blogger Meg Kelso said...

I don't think I've mentioned it enough, but I hate games. This is neither fun nor intriguing to me. You could be the love of my life but I'll never know, because you're playing games.

Too bad.

:)

June 18, 2014  

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Tuesday, May 13, 2014

I just spent a half hour tryiing...

...BRB. Oh well, here's the video I hope. :)





I hope you enjoyed that bit.

It's 1:36 AM and I can no longer think. I only stayed up this late because I get to use the computer and I was doing all of my summer clothes. It took two days to complete the havoc reeked all over.  Yesterday I went I had to wash the clothes that have been around, but today it was just exhaustively so basically, I just spent all that time and that left me with a closet full of slacks on one side, shirts and jammies on the other.
I can't remember the ending of whatever I was saying and that's happened at least 8 times so I'm just going to skee-daddle and hit the hay. :)

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Monday, May 12, 2014

They say the Irish are...

...impervious to psycho analysis and I believe it. How can you be psycho analyzed when you weren't raised to discuss a dang 'ol thing? Any discussion I would like to have with my father somehow NEVER happens. I can't give a reason, I just haven't ben able to get a break in a discussion since March.

His peeve du jour was the fact that he asked me "two times" to vacuum the living room. First of all, he only asked me once and I vacuumed that day. Twice. He hadn't said, "The living room looks nice!" so I did it AGAIN. I wanted to perfect the work I had messed up by walking through the living room out to the balcony to water flowers. I'll Take some pictures for you. Anyway, during both vacuuming episodes that day, my father was out of the house so he never saw me do it.

Anyway, my father said that the vacuum cleaner in his bedroom hadn't been touched since he asked me to vacuum. The thing is, we have two.

I'm 15 years old again.

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Sunday, May 11, 2014

Te laptop Im usin...

...as no working g or h. Whatever spellchecker couldn't fix was painstakingly fixed by copying and pasting the stupid  and h . Anyway, Its not been a bad Mothers Day at all. Oh, the apostrophe is gone too so excuse the lack thereof.
In case there is anyone left who doesn't know that I'm a flake, I offer the proof you need to realize what a nitwit I am.

Last week I went out to shoot pool. Tats wat I do wen I feel like going out. My dad drops me off and I play for a while and then he comes to get me. Waiting for him, I walked over to a nearby laundromat closer to te entrance because there were te outside and it was closer to te feckin entrance. Wen I got ome I realized tat I didn't ave my pool cue. I caisrgt I left it at te laundromat so I went back tere. I walked to te bar and looked were I ad been sitting and asked te bar chick if someone turned it in. Se said no so I went ome. A couple of days later I realized I couldn't find my wallet. I was losing everything I ad.

Te oter day, just for te ell of it, I called te bar again after I printed out MISSINg posters wit a picture of my stick, Rosie. I call er tat because se as roses on te fat end. For no particular reason, I called te bar aain and tey ad it. Se asked me to describe it and ten I went to et er. Ten, I just assumed tat I left my wallet on te oter cair at te laundromat. I ad given up looking for it.

Today I was looking for something else tat I lost. After a couple of ours, just for giggles, I looked in my purse and wat did I find in tat sucker? Wy, my wallet of course. Te one place a woman keeps a wallet is te only place I never looked for it. Later, I found te tird ting I ad lost in a place I ad already looked often...on my desk under a stack of papers. In my defense, I rarely carry a purse. I usually just grab my wallet for ID and stuff, but I rarely carry a purse.

So, I spent 10 days thinking I ad lost a bunch of important stuff wen in reality, I'm just a ding donghappy MotersDay


I ive up copying and pasting because my back hurts too much to sit at te desk any loner. Back later.

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Thursday, May 08, 2014

How do you know when...

...it's time to sign off of a internet chat? I hate to annoy people by chatting too much but I don't want to leave anyone thinking that I didn't want to chat with them. I've always been rather sensitive to other people's feelings. Any ideas?

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I think I figured out my problem...

...of course it could be my imagination or I could be just plain wrong. But, after spending time with my dad, I remember why I'm nuts. Yesterday he was annoyed at something and he spoke for at least 15 minutes about how my mistake had inconvenienced him. I respect him enough to listen for a long time, but seriously...within reason for God's sake. I think my Xanax wore off at one point of his diatribe and I said, "You had me at 'You fucked up'. Everything else you're saying is superfluous."
He barked, "It's for emphasis! I gently mentioned that the things he says are hurtful. I think he apologized or said "fuck you"... or something like that.

I thought about being a kid and thinking that all his ramblings were evidence that I wasn't good enough for him, or anything else for that matter. I'm surprised I didn't leave for San Francisco to be a hippie sooner than I did. Actually, if I had left sooner, I would have enjoyed the hey-days of Haight Ashbury instead of marrying a marine who got out of the Corp by way of Section 8.

Anyway, I'm doing well...for a suicidal wreck who uses the hope of good stuff to stick around. If I did commit suicide, I would do it where someone I didn't like would find my body. I'd eat a lot of laxatives just to be a bitch.

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