Thursday's Child ... has far to go ... (0nm10wn2feet) wrote,
Thursday's Child ... has far to go ...

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Life and other oddities?

What a strange day. Bizarre, in fact. I seriously doubt I've had many that have been THIS bizarre in a long, long time. Don't read behind the cut unless you really want to know what a long, S-T-R-A-N-G-E trip it was!

WARNING... very LONG diatribe follows; LONG even by MY standards!

I woke up really late yesterday... too late to remind hubby that it was recycling day, which means that, since we only have it once a month in our godforsaken neck of the woods, the recyclables will build up over the course of the NEXT month. Not too big a deal, right? An ill omen, nonetheless, it would seem.

I then checked my email, which I normally do right before taking my meds. I didn't make it to take my meds for quite a while. What a nightmare THAT was! My email, that is, not the meds. Anyway, suffice it to say that certain things have hit the proverbial fan, and then ended up getting even further spread by my own negligence.

That, in itself, wasn't as bad as it could have been, but it was still a major faux pas on my part. I can't go into particulars, but let me caution EVERYONE to carefully look at the "To" header once you've clicked on a recipient for any emails you are trying to quickly forward to someone. If you're not careful, a missive that was intended to be rather private could end up posted to a bulletin board instead. Yes, I did that. No, it was NOT good.

In the midst of trying to effect damage control, my son decided to work on my truck. The intrepid little bugger went out on his own and purchased everything he needed to do an oil change, as well as changing the air filter. Not cheap, I'll tell you. Unfortunately, he needed the owners manual for the silly thing to determine how much oil to put back in it... and we couldn't find it. Of course, during all this, I was on the phone, having a lovely convo with someone I know quite well online, however this was the first time we'd conversed over the phone. For the most part, the convo dealt with my faux pas and the possible fallout from same, so I was really trying to concentrate on it. All the while, people here were asking me all sorts of questions and trying to interact with me. I used to be blonde... born that way... I don't do well with multiple convos simultaneously. Just not my thing, y'know?

While dealing with THAT, I was also being IMed by several others who were aware of the problem with the misdirected email. AND emailed by others asking me about it. Lets just say I went into sensory overload for a bit. Actually, for a GOOD BIT. Before I knew it, it was 4:00 PM in the freakin' afternoon and I still hadn't taken my meds. Whew. I finally managed to, with the help of my dear friends, overcome my embarrassment and angst over my error, deal with all the emails, talk to all the people on IM, and start thinking about the horse race that I so love at this time of year. Yes, the Kentucky Derby.

I was delighted to see a filly in the field for the first time in ages. And, from looking at her breeding and reading her stats, the filly had a good shot at being an actual contender in this year's Run for the Roses. Sure, she wasn't the favorite by any stretch of the imagination, but still, she looked damn good. We watched the race and, coming into the home stretch, you could see her making a move. Not enough to catch Big Brown, the winner, but she was trying her heart out. She put in a damn fine race for a filly against all those colts, that's for sure. Then the cameras focused on a horse down on the track. It was that game filly, Eight Belles, having broken both front ankles in the midst of her gallop down from the race. She was euthanized right where she fell, as there was no chance whatsoever of saving her life - not with two broken limbs.

For my take on that tragedy, see my next post... I do pedigree research - have done so for around 12 years now - and I have my own opinions as to the causes of things like this. Anyway, I was pretty shook up over that, being the horse-lover and owner that I am. Right around this time, I was reminded that I was to be the designated driver for my kids so they could attend a party where there was definitely going to be drinking. AND, since my son had already had a beer with dinner, I was nominated to take his friend, who didn't want to attend the party, home first. Yippy Skippy, huh? At this point, I was rather dazed from the day's activities... and thoughts were bouncing around in my head like a ping pong ball. Quite frankly, I didn't really want to do the driving, but someone needed to, and the kids really needed to get out of the house.

Here's where things get even stickier. Quite frankly, I grew up back in the Viet Nam era, the last part of which saw the drinking age in most of the country drop to 18. I was one of the "lucky" recipients of that windfall, occasioned by the argument that, if 18 year-olds were old enough to fight and die for our country, they should be considered old enough to drink legally. While I can understand the majority sentiment that most of us aren't quite adult enough at 18 to handle doing so responsibly, I would also argue that many 21 year-olds aren't either, y'know?

So, having that mindset, I don't have a problem buying alcohol for my 19 year-old son, with it understood that it only be consumed either in our home or at private parties. The second caveat is that he NEVER attempt to drive after drinking. With that in mind, after delivering them to said party and discovering that there was, owing to the hosts' relative poverty, little in the line of liquid refreshment, I agreed to purchase the kids' favorite libations and wander back home to await the call that they were ready to come home themselves. It was, I might add, a relatively icky night weather-wise... and the house was not in a particularly good part of Pontiac. Not a terrible part, but still not the best for wandering around in after dark.

Intrepid mom that I am, though, I dutifully got directions to the nearest party store and trudged off to my truck. Which had to be parked a block away due to limited parking at the party. In the dark. In the rain. Have I mentioned how much I detest kids?? I got the goodies, deposited them with the 'chillens,' and trudged, for the second time, solo to the truck. I guess I'm glad it was raining, or there might have been more people on the streets. I left them with the admonition to behave themselves (meaning to, hopefully, not embarrass themselves) and to call me when they were ready to come home.

Back in the truck, twenty-five minutes back toward home... and I still had to stop at the store to pick up stuff for Sunday breakfast. Did I mention that, by this time, it was almost midnight? Yeah... 30 minutes later, back in the truck, back on the way home, only to find that the hubby had already hied off to beddy-bye - much earlier than his usual for a Saturday night. Must be the premonition that I was bringing home more than two or three things from the store. So, at almost 1 AM, I was busily engaged in hauling all the groceries in by myself and attempting to put them away as quietly as possible. Through it all, I was still marveling at how bizarre the day had already been.

After that, I settled in for a nice, long convo with someone who SHOULD have been asleep by that time, but she was still awake and, through chatting, kept me awake too. The promised phone call came from the boy-child, who sounded MUCH worse for the wear. I dutifully hopped in the truck and slogged out to get them. My first clue that things weren't going to be good was the sight of my son sitting on the floor inside the open front door of the house, leaning on the door jamb. Then watching him trying to get to his feet and stay there. Then watching him attempt to exit the place and navigate the steps down to the truck. He made it that far, climbing in and slumping over, smelling rather like a distillery. I asked if he was ok and, as he attempted to answer me, he belched... and the floodgate opened. I sat there, behind the steering wheel of my truck, watching my son in fascinated horror as he suddenly turned into a geyser. All by his lonesome. It was... horrible.

By the time he was finished, the mess pretty much covered every surface on the passenger side of the front seat. Even the dashboard and windshield (which aren't that close to the seat in a Dodge Ram) were 'decorated.' My daughter finally came out after making her rounds of saying 'good-bye,' and proceeded to call her brother every name in the book for throwing up AGAIN, after she'd JUST finished cleaning him up from the first time. In the living room of these poor people's house. With that cheery sentiment, I put the truck in gear and began wending our merry way homeward.

Throughout much of the drive, my daughter kept apologizing for not taking the Jaeger away from her brother earlier, my son apologized for being "stinking drunk like a pig," and I kept saying "Live and learn, kids." In amongst the rambling from the inebriated one, he kept saying something about falling off the porch of the house and splitting his head open. I didn't see any obvious trauma, so I let it go until we could get home and I could (once he was cleaned up) examine it more closely. Fortunately, at 3 AM, the streets we had to travel were relatively deserted and the ride home was blessedly quick. Once we got home and he got out of his clothes, I looked at his head - we were extremely fortunate that he wasn't severely concussed or even out cold! What a HUGE lump!! I seriously wondered if he hadn't suffered a hairline fracture or something.

I got him settled on the couch, ice water and bucket handy, and tried to relax. By 4:30 AM I was wondering if he was going to make it through the night, knowing that it wasn't good to let people with head injuries go to sleep that soon afterward. So, I settled near him on the loveseat to make sure he kept breathing. I was awake well past 6 AM and, after that, woke up every time he quit snoring. We both finally woke up around 11:30 AM and he was feeling bad, but not horribly so. He took a shower, ate something and let it settle, then he went out to see what damage had been done to the interior of my truck. Overnight, I left all four windows cracked to ventilate it somewhat, but I wasn't going anywhere near it last night after we got home. When we got up, I opened both front windows to let it air out even further - but it was still HORRIBLE. And there was no doubt that HE was going to be cleaning it.

When he saw the mess, I thought he was going to die laughing... in his words, it looked like "someone got their head blown off." (Have I mentioned that he's a sadistic twerp?) He even had to use a toothbrush and q-tips to get it out of the vents. We'll see how well he did at actually getting all vestiges tomorrow. He is driving it to work and leaving me his car. We'll see how great the truck smells after sitting in the sun in 72 degree weather for a day. Then he'll get to drive it home. Seems only fair to me, what do you think?? *snicker*

If you read all this, you're more of a glutton for punishment than I am. And, after yesterday and last night, I think I'm a pretty big one! Hope all are doing well...

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