Buckle Up Puppies, This Ones Bumpy

19 03 2014

I know its been months since I have graced the interwebs with the goings on of my life. I won’t bother to offer apologies…the truth is, I am busier than a one armed paper hanger these days. Seriously. In addition to the work I have coming through the door at the company I own, my duties at my “day job” are more than any two people can truly handle. I am pooped, stressed, and more than a little tempted to say “screw it” and go get some stress free job that ends at 5 PM that I don’t have to think about til 9 the next morning.

Darling and I are entering month two of the first phase of our outdoor living renovation. Eight hundred square feet of concrete suspended over steel decking that will eventually be a screened porch, outdoor kitchen, and patio. Between Mother Nature, special order brick, and subcontractors who are either too busy or too lazy to show up, what we thought would be a two week project is now looking like it will qualify for the Historical Registry before we get to enjoy it.

But what you really want to know about is Mama, right? Well, buckle up puppies, because girlfriend has lost it.

About a month ago, I got a message from a woman asking if I had a sister, that she thought she might know her. I explained that my sister had passed some years back, and after apologizing for approaching me under false pretenses, the woman explained that my mother had messaged her on Facebook and claimed to have a love child named Michelle with this woman’s husband who was desperate to finally meet her father. Anyone who has read more than two posts here knows Mama is nuttier than squirrel shit, but that was crazy even for her. So I logged onto Mama’s Facebook account, and sure enough, that was pretty much what had happened! I called Mama out on it, telling her I didn’t appreciate being disturbed with such juvenile nonsense. “Oh I was just playing a joke on her.”  Neither myself, nor the victim, found the humor in it.

Around the same time, Mama’s sometime bosom buddy from the trailer park messaged me to say that ambulances and police cars were stationed at Kenny’s place, and wondered if I knew what was going on. I didn’t, but later learned that Kenny had gotten drunk and fired a gun several times, AT mama, depending on which time she told the story. He was hauled off to the drunk tank, evicted from his lot at the Doy Mobile Court, and he and Mama are, for the 15th and “Final” time, DONE with each other.

So back Mama went to my poor Grandmother’s house, where she plays the martyred caretaker when she and Kenny are on the outs. And there she has been, having similarly been evicted from the land she has kept her own trailer parked on for 30-odd years. (that’s a whole other post–but the jist is that she literally lost everything, a paid for trailer and all it’s contents, because she did AB SO LUTE LY nothing to sell it, move it, or arrange for an extension of her lease.)  Mama apparently sits at Granny’s house and does nothing but sext with men on Facebook (men who believe she is a 45 year old ICU nurse), and sneak into the basement to smoke cigarettes. She still has done nothing to replace her driver’s license, and feigns outrage that she has worn through the generosity of everyone she knows “Can you believe he said this is the last time he would bring me cigarettes?”.

A few days back, one of Granny’s neighbors phoned my aunt, saying that she was worried about the situation there. Apparently, Mama had stumbled up to her house, high on pills, seven or eight times in one day because she couldn’t figure out how to turn her cell phone on. The neighbor was also concerned that several people known to be sketchy characters were dropping by for quick visits, leading the neighbor to wonder whether some sort of drug exchange was going on.

The day after this call, Granny phoned one of my uncles to say that Mama was passed out on the stairway. He came over, carried her into bed, and when he returned a few hours later to check on the situation, Mom supposedly had no memory of it, but opined that “this new medicine they got me on has me all messed up, I think I’ll just flush it down the toilet.”

Well, apparently “toilet” is a euphemism for her mouth, because she was passed out again the next day, and last night, my uncles had enough of it, and phoned the sheriff to help when Granny called to say she was passed out again. EMTs came to find an unconscious Mama, pills from four different doctors lying about the room. One bottle, for a narcotic painkiller, had been filled less than a week ago. Of 120 pills originally in the bottle, only 42 remained.

So, off she was hauled to the ICU, perhaps to have her stomach pumped or soaked up with charcoal. My uncles swore out a Mental Health Petition, and as soon as Mama is roused to alertness, a hearing will be held and hopefully she will be hauled off to the mental ward–a place she’s checked herself into at least four times in the last two years, but hopefully it will do some good since she won’t be able to sign herself out the moment she starts itching for a nerve pill.

We shall see.

And how have YOU been?




One response

11 04 2014

Oh my! Your Mom needs a keeper more than your Grandmother does!!! I would say that I wish her luck but I’m guessing that she will be out of that hospital as soon as they don’t let her smoke in her room!!! At least she keeps you out of the worst of it…………… for now.

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