Why Do The Heathen Rage?

So there my little nephews were, all bugged up like tiny tweekers waiting for their next hit. They couldn't wait to see their most favorite cousin in the world, Slim, only there was no Slim to be had. He was having Thanksgiving dinner with the Mailman's family. The next morning, Slim and I walk in the door and the boys started dancing and chanting, "Slim...Slim! Slim....SLIM!!!" Clearly they love him, and he can make them do anything. For example, The Runaround Game. Slim sits in a chair on the lawn, and they run around him, around and around, until they fall down all sweaty and dizzy. They love it. Any who, I took them yesterday to one of those places where they have half a dozen giant inflatable bouncy houses so that the boys could burn off some of that boundless energy kids seem to have. They're literally bouncing off the walls, hitting each other with gigantic foam boxing gloves, and going nuts. Slim was worn out, and made the mistake of trying to hide inside a giant bouncy house filled with dozens of basketballs. The boys found him and began pelting him repeatedly with the balls. Wham! A Nerf ball to the head. Wham! A Nerf ball to the groin. Slim was under attack. As he cowered in the corner, he looked up at me and asked, "Why have they forsaken their God?" "I don't know, honey," I said, "But I'd sleep lightly tonight if I were you."

A Bunch Of Shemps In Search Of A Moe

What? Teabaggers just can't get along? Oh, the humanity. Like some backwoods mullet militia, where anyone with a twelve-pack, a Walmart handgun, and a deep seated hatred of the Negro Man can join, it seems as if the Teabaggers are in disarray. Infighting, jealousy, and a serious lack of management skills are threatening to tear the movement apart. It couldn't happen to a nicer bunch of mouth breathers. Speaking of mouth breathers, by now you've seen the video of that group of Palin supporters surrounding her pimped out and totally super awesome tour bus hooting and hollering in anger just because she bailed on them before they could get their books signed. That's right, they waited on line in the rain for a quitter to sign their books, and were surprised when the quitter walked away before finishing the job. They had wristbands, people! Is nothing sacred any more? I loved the interviews with the chumps afterwards. A more clueless bunch of idiots you'll never see. Like the Teabaggers, the Palinistas are rudderless, adrift on a sea of self righteous indignation. It couldn't happen to a nicer bunch of guys... and gals. Also, too.

Fire Good

It's been getting a little chilly at night round here, so we put a fire pit on the patio last night and sparked it up. What a nice way to spend an evening. Of course, this morning we stink like ass, or would that be ash? Either way, it's not good, but I consider it a small price to pay for total relaxation. I've been toying with the idea of spending the Christmas holidays by myself. We've been offered a chance to head to a big tourist town, and everyone wants to do all the touristy things, but for the most part I hate that kind of crap. I would be perfectly happy going to New York and NOT seeing the Empire State Building, going to D.C. and NOT going to the Washington monument, or going to Seattle and skipping the Space Needle. I'd be happy to find a nice bookstore or museum of medical oddities and spend the day there, but I can see how other people might not dig that, and besides, I don't want to be a drag on everyone's good time. Honestly, I've been spending so much time taking care of everyone else lately, I'd just like a week where I didn't have to worry about anyone else but myself. The dog, too, I guess, and maybe the hamster, but seriously, that's it. The fucking fish can fend for themselves. What's that, Mailman? Forgot to pack your belt? Well, it sucks to be you, doesn't it? Slim's feeling his oats and ragging on you? Well, deliver the smackdown on him yourself, baby, because I'm going offline. I'll spend the week in my jammies and watch movies where the women wear Empire waists (Hello, Emma Thompson!). Yeah, this could work out nicely.

Passing The Torch Or Kicking My Ass?

Slim and I went out for our first real hike in ages. Sure we do our walking almost every day, but this was a real hike, with packs and trails with names like Mountain Goat and Lookout Point. I'm not ashamed to say it kicked my ass. That wasn't a surprise, what was surprising was how Slim never complained about how hard it was. He plugged along, stopping every once in a while to wait for me, and encouraged me on some of the steeper climbs. Clearly, the student has become the master. I wonder if he's planning some sort of coup? As our relationship changes, I find my relationship with my own father changing. Changing for the better, for the most part. Conversations that wouldn't have been possible just a few years ago are now commonplace. Still, one of the hardest things for me to figure out is how to help him without treating him as if he's helpless. I remember when my husband died, for some reason I took every offer of help as proof that people believed I was incompetent, incapable of handling anything by myself. I know now that they all meant well, but at the time I couldn't see it any other way, and it made me furious. So, I'm trying real hard to help where it's necessary. Dust bunnies aren't going to kill my dad, and so what if the ironing is piling up on the board. Having the stitches in his eye pop out because he's doing heavy lifting, now that's a problem, so I'll do the gardening until the doctor gives him the go ahead. We just have to find some kind of balance.

In other news, the Mailman isn't dying, at least not right this minute. He's got high cholesterol, that's what the doctor wanted to talk to him about (Thanks for scaring the shit out of me, Nurse Diesel). If that thing on his arm, which has almost disappeared, is still there in another month he's going to have it biopsied. I'm not crazy that the doctor immediately prescribed meds for the cholesterol, instead of having him adjust his diet, but it certainly has made the Mailman think twice about what he eats. Gone is the nightly bowl of ice cream, gone are the all butter chocolate chip cookies and a Nutra-grain Bars for lunch (But honey, it says "nutrition" in the title, they can't be bad!). The doctor wanted him to get more exercise, can you believe it? He said work doesn't count. Since when is walking five miles and lifting thirty pound boxes all day long not considered exercise? Anyway, as a result, we're eating oatmeal like it's going out of style, popping fish oil tabs, and trying to find some sort of balance with our diets. Balance, there's that damn word again. Oh, the joys of middle age.