We never slept in our parents bedroom and my mother thought it was a Very Bad Plan that we let the kids sleep with us. I told her they would get over the urge, and they did.
'Jaynestown'
Spike's Bitches 44: It's about the rules having changed.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
I remember the great comfort of climbing into my parents bed during bad thunderstorms or, very rarely, after bad nightmares. It was rare, but it was nice to be able to.
I remember the great comfort of climbing into my parents bed during bad thunderstorms or, very rarely, after bad nightmares. It was rare, but it was nice to be able to.
This was me, too. It was a treat, though, nothing I did normally. I just feel badly for Hec and JZ because it's so hard to have such limited options, space-wise. I still think I would end up sleeping in the living room if it were me, but what do I know? I am sprogless and therefore am talking out of my ass.
Connie, what a relief! Much healing ~ma to your hubby.
Hil, I wish I had something to say to help. I'll just add my HULK SMASH annoyance to everyone else's and remind you that at least you won't have to deal with this jerk forever.
Edited for odd cut/paste issues.
People are having swine flu parties. Like chicken pox parties for kids, except that everyone tries to get swine flu. [link]
Oh, and thanks for the encouragement and commiseration, everyone.
People are having swine flu parties. Like chicken pox parties for kids, except that everyone tries to get swine flu.
Oh, for fuck's sake. ::has no other words::
And Hil, I'm so sorry that your adviser keeps finding one way after another to keep the arrant bullshit flowing. I still firmly believe that violence is almost never justified, and much more never in a purely academic setting, but my lizard brain is nodding and saying, "Ah, so that's what was going on with the ball peen hammer guy." Not condoning it in any way, just understanding it. It all seems so utterly crazy-making, and it almost seems deliberately structured to make you feel totally powerless.
It all seems so utterly crazy-making, and it almost seems deliberately structured to make you feel totally powerless.
So much this.
OK. Good things happening soon. Um. My birthday is next week, and I think my parents got me Beatles Rock Band. I'm going home for Thanksgiving. I might be going to a vegan potluck/party for the turkeys at a farm sanctuary. (Still need to figure out transportation for that one -- the person that I usually bum a ride from for vegan stuff recently totaled her car.) When I'm home for Thanksgiving, my parents are taking me out to Blossom [link] for my birthday dinner.
They're going to admit Hubby overnight because his oxygen absorption isn't progressing as well as they like. They said he could go home so long as he understood the risk, he looked at me, and I said, "If they think there's a risk, you're staying here." Hubby told the nurse: "What she said."
It's purely a precautionary thing, but given all the fun and games Hubby's been through in his life, having some other people looking out for him is a good thing.
Fancy vegan restaurants are fun with my parents. My mom looks at it as an adventure and wants to order everything on the menu that she's never heard of. We end up splitting at least three appetizers, and she tries a bit of everybody's main course. My dad, on the other hand, gets confused by food that isn't chicken, asks me to explain what everything is, gets perturbed at paying $20+ per entree, and is always surprised when he likes the food, even if he's been to the same restaurant and liked the food three times before. Last year, after much deliberation, he finally settled on ordering a spicy black bean and tempeh stew. He took a tiny, tentative bite and said, "Oh! This tastes just like chili!" and happily ate the rest.
Sounds like the hospital is taking good care of him, Connie.