To Recap & Then I’m Forgetting This Shit


The incredibly messed up situation that we’ve been dealing with since July of 2012 when Sweety remembered some truly awful stuff that happened to him as a kid has drawn to a legal close. That closure happened weekend before last. It wasn’t quite the end we’d hoped for but at least it’s over. I’d hoped that when the legal part was over that everything would be okey-dokey around here immediately, but of course, that kind of thinking is a pipe dream.

Sweety felt better because he didn’t have to worry about the legal stuff anymore. I think I had a little bit of a meltdown with just trying to not be on edge after 3 years. I pretty much spent all last week hiding in bed while Sweety managed Bean. It’s a little over a week out and I’m thinking that things will get to normal around here. It’s been so long since it’s been normal though that I still feel on edge because I’m waiting for something to happen.

Right now Sweety is without a job. He has a phone interview tomorrow with a place he’d really like to work for doing something that he’s always wanted to do. I am sincerely hoping that it goes well. If it doesn’t, I’ve told myself that it’s a sign for me to go back to work while Sweety stays home with Bean. And I’ll be honest. I’d rather rub my eye with a tiny cheese grater than go out into the workforce and deal with people.

Excruciatingly slow progress is being made on the sale of my Mom’s house. We should have the paperwork to sign regarding that within the next week or so and it will be done. And then hopefully, Lintball will die in a fire. My sister and I finally got the amount we need to reimburse Lintball for insurance payments on the house over the last 2 years. It is highly likely that I will get a couple of dozen money orders totaling the amount due to send to him. Just so that fuckstick has to endorse each one. Depends on how much of an asshole I’m feeling like tomorrow. The forecast says that there’s an 85% chance of this.



Like There’s a Pinball in my Mind


Do you ever see someone living the same fucked up life that you lived in 20 years ago and want to shake the shit out of them until they realize they are short-changing themselves? Yes. Yes. I am there. And I know it won’t do a damn bit of good to say anything to her because I remember. I remember being that full of hope girl thinking, “I can fix him. Nobody else understands him.” blah, blah, blah. Lather, rinse, repeat. At some point you wake up and realize that it’s not your job to fix somebody or make them happy. That shit is on them. And if you don’t want them to suck the life out of you that you need to go. Related: I saw Sweety stalk out of the house today intent on beating the living shit out of someone and lucky for them that they weren’t in. Argh. Argh. Argh.

There’s a letter on the way to me from Lintball’s lawyer. If I pay him 20k then he will sign his 1/3 of Mom’s house to me. Nevermind that I know there’s no way 1/3 of that house is worth that much. There’s been no appraisal done. That’s just what he wants to go away. I’m going to find out if I own 2/3 of the house if I can rent it out (by rent it out I just mean let someone live there that I trust to keep the lawn mowed) to keep him from coming and going as he pleases and not pay him doodlysquat. The idea of taking out a mortgage on a house in the middle of nowhere Oklahoma sort of makes me feel pukey. I know it’s a completely emotional decision. The dickweed was saying that he was still living there but it turns out that he moved out last November. Bought a house with his fiance (now wife). I found this out in May. As of April, he was telling his lawyer that he still lived there. I hope he dies trapped in a fire. Really.

The Budman is no longer with us. I had to put him to sleep on May 5. Monday. Cinco de Mayo. If I’d have been heartless, I’d have made him wait a day just so it wouldn’t be on a day that would be easy to remember. Something weird? I’d just had him tuned-up for another year and got a new batch of crazy pills for him along with some other stuff. Even with that, he’d seemed more off than normal for a few days. On the Wednesday before, I had a talk with him. Told him it was okay to die. He’d been here long enough and that Mom would be excited to see him and he could put in a good word to let her know that I took excellent care of his grouchy ass. He didn’t eat again after that talk. For about the week prior, I’d been giving him human food as a treat and he wouldn’t even touch that. And he quit barking at all at night after that talk. I buttoned him into bed and he’d still be there when the sun came up. I’d take him out to potty, he’d drink some water like a camel, and I’d put him back in bed. He’d stumble out out of bed a time or two during the day and I’d take him out to potty in the shade because if there was sunlight he’d see his own shadow and it scared him. I wish that I’d have taken him to the vet earlier but he’d gone a couple of days without eating before so I thought he might snap out of it. After it was done on Monday, the vet told me it was the right thing. That no pills would have fixed him. Even though he peed all over the floor and was a cantankerous furball, I really miss him. And now I’m crying again. Yay.

At the end of May a friend came to visit and we went to Cinderella’s castle for lunch. We hauled the Bean along because she’s still young enough to be free. That kid lost her mind when the princesses came out and talked to her. Do you see the crazy shining in those eyes? She reminded me of the look I had on my face when I met Scott Sigler. I guess the crazyeyes are hereditary.

Can you tell she's excited to meet Jasmine?

The first princess to say hi, Aurora.

Notice the knot on her head? Two days before we were at the post office and she was in the middle of her very first full-on tantrum in public. It was just glorious. I was hustling her out of there and holding her hand with one of mine and using my other hand to open the car door. Just as I swung the door open, she broke free and rushed towards the car. Door met head with a solid thud. I think the princesses saw this little dirt urchin with the broke ponytail, lumped up noggin, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles tee shirt and deduced that she had a sad life so they needed to be extra nice.

After lunch with the princesses, we made a pitstop in the bathroom. I asked Bean if she had fun and she said yes. Then she said, “Going back to see the princesses!” No, Bean, we aren’t. “Yes. I’m going to uyu with princesses! I love them!” Uyu is what we call nursing. It’s the Korean word for milk. No, Bean. You uyu with Mama, not the princess. Cue tears as the Bean starts wailing that the loves the princesses and wants to uyu with them. Thanks, kid. When I came out and told Sweety what she said he replied that he wanted to uyu with the princesses too.

We’re on Day Six of weaning the Bean. I was going to do the whole baby-led-weaning thing where she weaned herself whenever she was ready but the kid was starting to do some damage with her teeth. She eats an incredible amount of food and takes man-sized shits. (Have I mentioned how happy I am that she’s potty trained? I give thanks every time I flush the toilet instead of strapping a diaper onto her.) She was starting to be a little meanass sometimes when she nursed. It was like she knew it was a way to hold me hostage so she’d be mean while she was nursing. Even if she was being nice her bottom teeth were wrecking me. It was time to stop the madness. Sometimes she begs for uyu. “Please, Mom! Can I uyu?! Just because I want to? Please! Just for one minute!” “I’m mad. I’m angry. I need uyu.” So we go through all of the ways that she’s a big girl who doesn’t need uyu and that we can snuggle in other ways. I think it would have been easier to wean her when she was smaller and couldn’t voice her displeasure so clearly. It’s gotten to where I can usually distract her with a backscratch and a bedtime story and singing her nighttime song until my throat is dry.



Fiery Keyboard Vomit


Have you ever felt like you had to do something even though it was something that doesn’t mean shit in the grand scheme of things?

This weekend will be the third or fourth weekend where I’ve told myself that I’ll send the lawyer’s office in Oklahoma an email asking about the status of probate on Mom’s non-existent estate. For some reason, the act of actually sitting down and typing the letter makes me want to puke. Just typing out those last couple of sentences made my stomach flop.

I spoke with them in September and asked what all did Lintball’s lawyer say was found during the discovery phase and she said they listed next to nothing. Not her 401k or the tiny bit of debt that she had. Sister and I know that we won’t get anything from the 401k but I feel like if you’re supposed to list it during probate then list it. And our lawyer said that Lintball denied any creditor’s request to be paid. Really, dude?

At this point I don’t know if probate is over and Lintball got off without having to pay anything. I just want to know what’s going on and my fucking lawyer’s legal aid isn’t returning my calls or emails. I’m really going to send her an email this weekend and mention that I happen to have the lawyer’s cell phone number and the only reason that I haven’t been ringing the shit out of it is because I thought it might be rude but I’m at the point that I don’t care.

Lintball is getting married. Moved his woman into his house a few months ago. Bought her a car. In an interesting bit of irony, the wedding date is Sweety’s birthday. There’s no way that Lintball knew that. I find it funny that’s the day given that we found out that Lintball spent years making fun of Sweety behind his back.

Oh! We can’t ask Lintball to leave the house even though we own 2/3 of it because he basically has squatter’s rights since it’s been his homestead. Guess what happens when he gets remarried? The house is the new wife’s homestead and she can’t be asked to leave even if he dies.

Ever heard of astral projection? I spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to do it. I thought maybe I could flit to Oklahoma in my sleep and set the place on fire. Yes, I know how fucked up this sounds.

Okay. Maybe now that I’ve gotten this bile out of my system I can come back tomorrow and talk to you about asshole Oliver and other pleasant things.