Krissie: Bloody English

I’m bitching because I’m at my mother’s, trying to use her Mac, and she has an English keyboard. I’ll try to proof things but I may just give up.
This was going to be a day just for me. I decided not to go to church but just have a leisurely time sewing and finishing up the earrings, when I get a panicked call from my mother that her toilet is clogged and she’d been wrestling with it for an hour. She sounded panicked and out of breath and at 97 that’s not good. So I said “stop immediately and sit down” and jumped in the car, stopped long enough to get her the newspaper, and came rushing over with a plunger and a stick (don’t ask). However, it wasn’t her toilet. The apartment next door was flooded and the entire plumbing system was down. My mother’s name is Virginia Stuart and the woman next door is Jean Stewart and they’re both deaf and ancient (though Jean is probably about 90). So I calmed Jean down, called Wayne and told him to get here so he could be done in time for the Super Bowl (which I first typed Super Bowel — Freudian slip) and he said “there you go.” So I’m waiting.
Got my mother oxygen and a DC and a piece of Entenmann’s raspberry twist (my nemesis) and then she said “have a piece yourself, you deserve a treat with all this stress.” To which I replied “Satan, get thee behind me.”
Which explains some of my hostility toward my mother. She’s a classic enabler, and she enabled my brother to his death. Yeah, I know, it’s my brother’s fault, not hers. But if you keep giving them money for booze and handing them tranquilizers and bailing them out and supporting them then you bear some culpability. The last words my brother ever spoke to me were “Fuck you.” But I was trying to help, to stop the cycle of enabling, and I’m not sorry.
Enough about that. I’m down another pound finally. 242. I’ve been eating steel cut oatmeal for the last three days, with a little splenda and fruit (today frozen berries and they were delicious). It wasn’t nearly the trouble I expected. I made some three days ago and then simply nuked the rest the following two days. It was simple to cook on the stove, and I’m going to keep that up when I’m at Squalor on the River.
In the meantime, we’re waiting for the puppy bowl while I’m waiting for Wayne to resolve the plumbing problem. A woman’s work is never done.
I’ll give you a little example of how this keyboard is laid out.

Twas brillig and the slithy toves did gyre and gymbel in the wind
All mimsy were the borrogroves … `i’m sure that’s not spelled right or even remembered correctly `a; `i usually do “hamlet`;
\Everytime `i hit return `i get the\ sign and everytime `i want to cap `i get the stupid `sign. `not to mention all sorts other stuff. So `i’m suffering for you guys while `i keep `ma company.\\\
Eventually `i’ll get home and get to play again. `in the meantime, am `i not the world’s most fabulous daughter`/`/. I just feel bad that my sweetness and care isn’t supported by deep love, but `i do feel compassion for her. So maybe `i’m not the most excellent after all, but `i do try.\\
Okay, enough of letting this stupid British Mac have its way with me. Happy Sunday. I’m gonna go home and play.

Jenny: Attention Must Be Paid

So something interesting (to me) has happened this week.  Because I knew I was going to be blogging this site–must support Sister Krissie–I started looking at things as Post Topics.  I do this all the time on Argh, but I try to keep this kind of personal stuff away from there since it turns into a whine.  No whining on Argh.  Well, not any more.   So instead of looking at my bathroom full of stuff and thinking, “I have to do something about this some day” and repressing memories of my mother saying, “Jennifer, you have to pay attention to your appearnce,” I looked at it and thought, “Re-Fab posts” and sorted out all the drawers and boxes, threw out anything that was too old or that I knew I didn’t like, and stacked what was left around the bathroom sink. Continue reading

Krissie: Mother Earth

So we were trying to come up with role models, and here’s what we got:
1. Helen Mirren
2. Candice Bergen
3. Maggie Smith
4. Queen Latifah
5. the heroine of Hairspray
6. Betty White
7. tons of others.

And I was thinking that Maggie Smith, much as I worship and adore her, is not who I want to be. She’s bold, fearless, but there are too many sharp edges. Too prickly. I can love watching her, but I don’t want to be her.
I want warm and cuddly, an earth mother.
And then it struck me. Earth mothers take care of everyone. They’re responsible for the health (mental and physical) of everyone who touches them, and that’s one of the things I have to break away from. Really, desperately. Continue reading