He passed the actual test with flying colors, which then put him into the “disclosure” process. These are actual quotes:

“Did you ever take a magnifying glass and see if ants burned when you were 5 years old? That’s arson! Write it down!”

“Did you have a 17 year old girlfriend when you turned 18 and graduated high school? That’s statutory rape! Write it down!”

And on and on and on. He came home feeling elated for having passed the test, and the scum of the earth for having to hash through every single bad thing he has ever done or experienced (“Did you ever witness spousal abuse? Write it down!”)

Now comes the interview and polygraph. Yes, I said polygraph. A lie detector test. That comes on June 30th. A full month and a half away, during which point they will be digging up every bit of dirt they can on him. And interviewing everyone they can get their hands on. It’s… unnerving. It really is. On the other hand, he’s been a practical boy scout for the last 15 years, and all his stupidity was basically done while he was very young.

And now, we wait. And maybe sweat a little.

Being Green

Checking out at the store, the young cashier suggested to the older woman, that she should bring her own grocery bags because plastic bags weren’t good for the environment.

The woman apologized and explained, “We didn’t have this green thing back in my earlier days.”

The young clerk responded, “That’s our problem today. Your generation did not care enough to save our environment for future generations.”

She was right — our generation didn’t have the green thing in its day.

Back then, we returned milk bottles, soda bottles and beer bottles to the store. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized and refilled, so it could use the same bottles over and over. So they really were recycled.

But we didn’t have the green thing back in our day.

Grocery stores bagged our groceries in brown paper bags, that we reused for numerous things, most memorable besides household garbage bags, was the use of brown paper bags as book covers for our schoolbooks. This was to ensure that public property, (the books provided for our use by the school) was not defaced by our scribblings. Then we were able to personalize our books on the brown paper bags.

But too bad we didn’t do the green thing back then.

We walked up stairs, because we didn’t have an escalator in every store and office building. We walked to the grocery store and didn’t climb into a 300-horsepower machine every time we had to go two blocks.

But she was right. We didn’t have the green thing in our day.

Back then, we washed the baby’s diapers because we didn’t have the throwaway kind. We dried clothes on a line, not in an energy-gobbling machine burning up 220 volts — wind and solar power really did dry our clothes back in our early days. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters, not always brand-new clothing.

But that young lady is right; we didn’t have the green thing back in our day.

Back then, we had one TV, or radio, in the house — not a TV in every room. And the TV had a small screen the size of a handkerchief (remember them?), not a screen the size of the state of Montana . In the kitchen, we blended and stirred by hand because we didn’t have electric machines to do everything for us. When we packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, we used wadded up old newspapers to cushion it, not Styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap. Back then, we didn’t fire up an engine and burn gasoline just to cut the lawn. We used a push mower that ran on human power. We exercised by working so we didn’t need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity.

But she’s right; we didn’t have the green thing back then.

We drank from a fountain when we were thirsty instead of using a cup or a plastic bottle every time we had a drink of water. We refilled writing pens with ink instead of buying a new pen, and we replaced the razor blades in a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got dull.

But we didn’t have the green thing back then.

Back then, people took the streetcar or a bus and kids rode their bikes to school or walked instead of turning their moms into a 24-hour taxi service. We had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And we didn’t need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 23,000 miles out in space in order to find the nearest burger joint.

But isn’t it sad the current generation laments how wasteful we old folks were just because we didn’t have the green thing back then?

Please forward this on to another selfish old person who needs a lesson in conservation from a smartass young person…

We don’t like being old in the first place, so it doesn’t take much to piss us off.

Joseph just turned 12. He’s doing great in school. School’s starting to wind down (Yay!) and then he informed me that he wants to attend summer school. Which means that not only do I not get to sleep in this summer, but I get to get up even earlier. Why does he want to? “All my friends are.” I suppose if you’re going to follow the pack, go ahead and follow the pack to school, but was sleeping in too much to ask? All his “issues” are still there, but he’s made a great deal of academic progress, and he’s certainly not backsliding, so I’m happy. He’s also turning into quite the artist.

Logan is about to turn 10. He’s not doing great in school to the point that I have started/requested the IEP process to start. He needs the help. Behaviorally/mentally, he’s an incredibly happy child in the throes of being a kid. He’s entirely too fascinated with bodily functions. The louder and smellier the better which just encourages the rest of the men/boys in the household. Sometimes I stare in wonder and try to figure out how I landed in a frat house.

Both boys are slobs, fascinated with torturing each other, stubbornly refuse to eat anything that might remotely be healthy (except that Logan loves fruit), are growing like weeds, aspire to burp the alphabet, hate for me to have them weed the garden, hero-worship their dad, and have a particular case of pre-teen blindness when it comes to their rooms being clean. In other words, all’s normal on the kid front.

As for Poe, I think he’s doing well. He has a potential career opportunity on the horizon, but it’s early in the process so I’ve not said much here or on Facebook about it. It would be a great thing for the family financially speaking, and practically miraculous for his spirit should it go through. Prayers and positive energy/thoughts please. It’s important to him.

We just celebrated our 14th anniversary. That kind of amazes me. That seems forever, and yet like not a wink has gone by. So much has changed, we’ve been through so much, and yet so much stays the same.

As for me… Things are difficult on the business front. Solvate, a contractor/freelancer portal, went out of business. They constituted 99% of my clientele, and those clients mostly decided not to continue with me without corporate backing. So, with less than two week’s notice, I lost most of my business/income. That’s been a struggle for me. I worked through it, I’m OK, but it was a hard blow for me professionally, and for us financially. So, I’ve been delving ever-deeper into my spiritual life. I’m growing in a lot of ways I’ve never tried before. It’s a good thing, but a solitary thing. I’m keeping it to myself.

My parents continue to drive me stark raving bonkers. My mother has been recently diagnosed with Alzheimer’s on top of everything else. My father has decided not to start her on the medication to slow it, as he doesn’t want to potential side-effects to complicate all her other myriad of medical conditions. I’m actually okay with his decision, because I made sure that he was educated on the pros and cons of that decision. As long as it’s an educated decision, I’ll back him 100%. He continues to ask me for advice. He continues to ignore most of it, but the asking seems to help him figure stuff out. The Alzheimer’s seems to make my mom even meaner (and she was already a tough broad), so that’s been a bit difficult for me to reconcile. Loves my kids, adores my husband, but I cannot do or say anything right. Sigh. The more things change, the more things stay the same. I continue to keep my promise to help them out, and be there for my dad in the course of this process going on 7 years I think. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say it wears on me.

So there’s the grand update. We’re OK. We’re hanging on. It’ll all work out.

How do you incorporate color into your look?

For me, over the years, I’ve realized whatever the color is… All that matters is that I LOVE IT! Yes, there are certain colors that look good on me. Green looks best on me as it brings out my eyes. But really? If you love the color, you’ll feel great wearing it, and THAT’S what makes someone look good. Their attitude makes all the difference! I hate yellow. So I wouldn’t wear something yellow – even though it might look good with my skin tone – because I don’t love it when I see it.

That being said… I also infuse color in a couple of other ways. I like to wear crazy shoes, so that can inject color. I don’t like to wear a lot of jewelry, but if I do, I usually wear one bold crazy piece that has a lot of color in it. For example, I wear a lot of black. I have a great wool peacoat (I got it on sale thankyouverymuch). It’s a whole lotta black. So, in the wintertime, I pull out that coat, and I put one of the obnoxious costume jewelry brooches I inherited from my great-grandmother. It just makes me feel good when I see it, and it comes back to I feel good, so I look good.

It’s OK to wear color, people. There’s so many folks who, perhaps, don’t feel they have the best body. So, they wear black and neutrals to detract. That old adage of “black is slimming” comes into play here. I’m here to say, “Who cares!” Do you LOVE fushia? Does fushia make you happy? (Do you know how to spell fushia? ‘Cause my spell checker hates the way I’m spelling it.) Does fushia make you perk up a little bit? Than you should be wearing fushia. It’ll bring a little spark to your day when you see it. Experiment if you’re scared to wear it. Instead, tie a scarf with fushia in it around the handle to your purse. You’ll see a little bit of happy every time you pick up your purse.

Look. Clothes, at their barest minimum, are simply there to protect your body from the elements. Any other meanings such as modesty or fashion judgement are meanings that WE as society give them. So… Give them your OWN meaning. Take joy in them. If bright pink reminds you of huge gerbera daisies and make you smile? By golly, get some bright pink into your life.

Go visit the main page and leave your own comment on how you incorporate color! Don’t forget to enter the current Life Well Lived Sweepstakes while you’re at it.

While I do have regrets in my life, I also believe that all actions lead you to where you are. While, at 37, I’m not where I thought I would be in terms of financial success/security, I do have a blessed life full of love – folks I love, and folks who love me in all my neuroses.

Am I aging? Ohhhh yes. The wrinkles are a little more pronounced. My hair is going silver. My joints creak. I’ve got a bad back, bad knees, among other things. Do I mind? No. I’ve earned every wrinkle. Every gray hair. Every creak and groan. I hope, and believe, that I’ve also garnered wisdom. Wisdom I use to live a better life, and wisdom I can pass on to my children and others that they may not make some of my mistakes.

Not that anyone listens to me.

We can’t really celebrate today due to Poe’s sleep/work schedule. So yesterday, during the day, he and I went to a movie (This Means War) and lunch at Fuddruckers (a really good hamburger joint). Somehow, it was for my birthday, and Poe still got explosions and cheeseburgers, so it was a good birthday for him too!

I’ve earned 37. I decided to own 37. 37 is my bitch. My gift to myself? I bought myself a pair of combat boots. I will rock them. I’m waiting on a particular job opportunity for Poe. If it goes through, I will not have to get a “real” job, and if it doesn’t, I will. As soon as I know how respectable I have to be, I’m bringing back the pink stripe in my hair.

37 is going to Rock. I plan on enjoying every minute. On my terms. I plan on making 37 an awesome year.

This is a hard one for me, because I don’t pay too much attention to my appearance beyond some basics.

What do I have to work with? I have glasses. I have curly hair. I have a weird round face. I’m not too keen on makeup. I’m a wash and go kind of girl.

Because I’m totally squicked out by anything to do with eyes (such as contacts or laser surgery), I’m stuck with the glasses. So I always make sure I have frames I love. Love doesn’t have to equal expensive. I currently have rectangular black frames, which I love, and they were only $20.

For my hair, it’s curly and a lot of it. When I say curly, I mean full-on spiral curls. If I were to brush it out dry (which I never-ever-ever do), I have a serious, 70′s worthy afro. When it rains it just gets… Bigger. A lot bigger. Shorter is NOT better. My hair frames my round chubby face much better longer. I finally found a hair stylist that can cut my hair. If you have curly hair, I beg of you, find someone who knows curly hair. One size does not fit all on this, it makes all the difference. I also always use product, but it’s simple. I buy mousse or spray gel made for curly hair. I find that brand and expense doesn’t really matter, but “made for curly” does. Anything else is too stiff and heavy, and makes my hair really crunchy. I simply get out of the shower, and have it up in a towel while I do my other stuff, and then put the product in, comb it out with a wide toothed comb, and bend over and scrunch. Then I let it air dry, and finally do whatever I might do with it.

I do use makeup for “outside” kind of appointments, but not on a daily basis. I just don’t like the feel of it, and all eye makeup irritates my eyes. When I do wear makeup, neutrals and coppers seem to look best with my eyes and skin tone. Sometimes I let in a little green in my eyeliner. I cleanse and moisturize daily.

I think the biggest thing for me, and makes me feel best, is to do my basics, and just own ME. THIS is me. This is who I am. That’s a good thing. Sure, I’ll be 37 on Thursday. My hair is greying. I’m starting to show my age on my face. But that’s OK. That’s a result of living life. That’s how I best frame my face. Basics, and then owning it.

Want to find out how others answered, and post your own comment? Go here. And don’t forget to enter the sweepstakes!

It’s taken a long time of growing up to sort of “grow into my own power.” I no longer try to fit in. I no longer care about what people care about me, although I do have to fight that urge sometimes. I think Joseph’s issues helped me with that. I really had to turn into a mama-bear to fight for him. To become an advocate. I had to learn to be “that mom” because Joseph needed it, and it transformed me.

I do feel I need to give back to the school in some way. Parental support for the school is important, and I agree with that. But I had to find something where I didn’t have to go into the school, and had minimal contact with other parents because I sometimes have trouble keeping my mouth shut and nodding and smiling. I found my niche in doing the school newsletter. The PTA sends out a newsletter nearly every week. It has upcoming Big Deals for the school, notes from the PTA President and Principal, as well as district/fundraising news. Technically it’s from the PTA, not the school itself. This is my 7th year doing it. I’m the Editor. Basically, I put it together, submit it for edits/approvals, and send to the school and district. Other folks send me articles they wish to be added, and I edit their stuff for grammar/spelling, structure, and formatting because I want it to be consistent regardless of what the content is.

And now we come to the point of the post.

I received an email last night. This particular person keeps sending articles for a particular ongoing fundraising function. I edit her. A lot. In her case it’s a tone thing. This is an official newsletter from the PTA of a Blue Ribbon school. So, I have a tendency to edit her COMMANDING tone – Her “do this or you suck” tone. As well as remove a ton of exclamation points. ‘Cause really, one will do. The newsletter went out via email to the parents last night. I very quickly received this in my in box, which I don’t think she realized she also sent to the PTA President and VP of Communications (they’re copied on the Editor’s email so we’re sure not to miss something):

“Hi Michelle,
I’m curious, do you want to just put in your own ads for the [fundraising item]? That’s alright with me. Then I won’t have to keep remembering to do this every Sunday or Monday. If you want me to put them in, then could you please place the ads that I send you? Thanks.
[redacted]”

I forwarded this to the President and VP, even though I knew they had received it. I decided to let them fight my battle for me – rather than doing what I WANTED to do which is THIS:

Hi [Name spelled wrong like she did with me],
I’m curious, do you want to just do the [newsletter]? That’s alright with me. Then I won’t have to keep remembering to do this every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, or Sunday. If you want me to keep doing them, then could you please not send articles that need editing? Thanks.
Michele
P.S. This is a formal newsletter to all parents and district of a Blue Ribbon school, not a text to your BFF.

But, I didn’t. Although I did send that in my reply to the President and VP. I received responses from both of them this morning. They were NOT happy, and the President said, “This will be taken care of this morning.”

1. I’m really glad I decided not to write back to her while annoyed. Usually, that just spins into insults going back and forth, and righteous indignation.
2. I’m glad that my impression of the PTA President was correct. This is my 4th PTA President while doing this function, and she’s the first I feel “has my back.”
3. I realized how much my husband has my back. I had read him the email before his nap last night before work. He kept popping up with “and another thing.” He was all indignant on my behalf. It felt really good.
4. Holding back the snark in the moment is usually wise.

We have something we never, ever say at our house. It doesn’t come out of our mouth. Ever.

“It could always be worse.”

Why? Two reasons. With whatever is happening, it diminishes what you’re going through at that moment in time. Everyone knows it could be worse. But if you SAY it, whenever someone has, it GETS worse.

Someone apparently doesn’t know the rule and said it at our house. I don’t know who – but it has to have been said.

A little backstory, for those who may be new to Chez Sparks.

In Nov. of 2008, I left a rather cushy job at Warner Bros. I was good at what I did, made good money, retirement, health benefits, the works. It had been planned for a year. Joseph was in the Apex of his mental breakdown. I was constantly getting calls to come pick him up. My mother had started going down hill. It seemed that everyone needed something out of me all the time. My ulcers and GERD had made themselves known. I was losing my hair. I was having chest pains. I wasn’t sleeping. Something had to give, so we decided it was my job. We planned for it, it wasn’t an impulsive thing. When I left, it was on good terms with everyone. Poe had a good job, doing something with his degree that he loved, in CAD. It was a “stable” job, and he had benefits too, so we weren’t losing that. I started my business, so we could still bring a little extra money in, and so I wouldn’t lose my mind. I’d worked since I was 12 years old, so I couldn’t imagine NOT bringing in any money. It’s a security thing for me, having been homeless in the past (another post for another day).

Three months later, Poe lost his “stable” job. He was unemployed for 2 years. It’s one thing to send your resume to a ton of places, and not get a call. It’s another to not be able to find any jobs to send your resume TO. In that 2 year period, we maybe sent out 5 resumes. I’m an anal-retentive perfectionist with security issues surrounding money. You bet your ass I was hunting for him. Out of the 5 resumes, he had one interview. So we opened it up to anything and everything from landscaping to pizza delivery. “You’re too old.” “You’ve made too much money.” “You’re too highly educated.” Finally, we got a tax refund, and Poe used that money to to go back to school, and then get his Guard Card, and Fire Permit. And we started hunting for security jobs. We thought that maybe with his Marine background, that would work. It did. He landed the job he has now. Well, it morphed into the job he has now. He makes 1/3 of what he made using his degree.

So now, Poe makes barely enough money to cover the bills. I make enough to cover the groceries. I don’t make enough to cover the bills, and he doesn’t make enough to cover the groceries. There is no extra. There is no savings. There is no “rainy day” emergency money. Poe and I have no medial insurance. We pay for insurance on the kids. One gets EKGs and Echos and sees a cardiologist annually, with heart surgery on the horizon, and one sees psychiatrists, therapists, and takes an $800/month medication. So, they’re the only ones insured. I haven’t seen a doctor of any sort for years (other than my own therapist, which, due to the below, I won’t be able to see anymore).

So that’s the backstory. Here’s what’s happening now.

In the last three days…

My mother went into the ER and then into a nursing facility. She’s definitely on her way out of this world – she’s just chosen to go kicking and screaming, so we’re just along for the ride. She’s still in the facility, and she still can’t really walk. But my dad says she’s getting stronger, so this should definitely be temporary. The fight I had with her to get her into the facility was epic. So now she thinks I want to just “put her away” and that dad is just sick of taking care of her. Neither of which is true, but she’s played the guilt card for 80 years – she ‘aint gonna stop now. She just doesn’t get why my 77 year old, back surgery surviving father can’t carry her ass to the bathroom. We’ve basically told her, “If you can get up, and get on a bedside commode, you can come home.” To be frank, though, her first night in there was probably the first full night’s sleep my father has gotten in months.

Our truck has broken down. It’s bad. This just happened, so I don’t know how much it’s going to cost to fix. In the meantime we’ll have to use the even older truck of my dad’s. It literally has pieces that fall off, parts are held together with electrical tape, and none of the gauges work. We have no money for this. Literally none.

Our tax appointment is in a week. I’m scared we’ll owe the IRS money because I haven’t paid taxes yet on my income for 2011, and I don’t know if Poe’s will be enough to offset it. We’ll see.

At Poe’s work they just reduced his hours. It’s not a lot (it adds up to 1.5 hours a week), but will definitely impact his pay.

And finally, the big cahuna. Solvate is closing. Solvate is a freelancer platform. 98% of my clients come from them. They sent out a terse email last week that basically said you and your clients are on your own, so figure it out. I wasn’t sure about two of my clients, but was sure that my biggest client would want to keep me. I just heard yesterday that no – they’re taking it in-house. Let me translate. I’m about to go from grocery money for 4 people for a month down to $60 a month in 4 days. We won’t survive.

We don’t know what to do. If I work full time, Poe would have to take over the kids. Holidays/summers with no school, pick up, conferences, all that. He sleeps during the day ’cause he works nights. Currently he handles homework, showers, and bed. I handle EVERYTHING else. If he has to pick it up, I’m worried about his health, ’cause he won’t be sleeping enough.

We’ve decided that I’m going to start looking for both of us. For Poe, higher pay in security, AND his CAD work. For me, full time work out side the home. We’ll just deal with the situation as it presents itself with whatever shows up first. I have one more check coming for groceries, which should cover us for the month – but I don’t know, ’cause of the truck situation, and I don’t know what the IRS is going to present to us.

I’m going to be 37 next month. Almost 40 years old. Exactly how many times in one lifetime do we have to start over?

My mother has been rather ill on and off for about 7 years or so. There are many things wrong with her.

• Heart – She had a rare growth that landed her in the medical journals, and led to an uber-rare heart surgery that saved her life. As a result, she has been on heart meds, such as blood thinners for most of her life, and lives in atrial fib (never in sinus rhythm). Because of the surgery and where we were in medical science at the time, she has a metal mesh “cage” holding her sternum together, which is rather interesting to see on x-rays.
• Stomach – When I was 4 or 5, she had some kind of operation on her stomach which reduced it to about 1/2. While I believe it was a tumor, it had the results of a gastric bypass, albeit more than 30 years ago. She has old ulcers that have healed over (scar tissue). She has GERD. She will sometimes have random, serious, internal bleeding (coming out both ends). After 7 years and more endoscopies than I can count, they have never found a source for the bleeding. The bleeding itself has resulted in numerous blood transfusions, and three incidents of “won’t last the night” calls (two of which came from Mexico which is rather nerve-wracking for the person – namely me – in the U.S.). In the last go-round they did a colonoscopy, and did remove several pre-cancerous polyps. She can’t eat a lot, some stuff she can’t eat at all, and she has a lot of vomiting episodes which can cause serious weight loss. She’s around 80 pounds at the moment.
• Lungs – She has asthma, and a weird lung disease of tropical origin that I cannot spell and they don’t know how she got it. It makes her prone to coughing, giving her chest pains (see metal cage in her chest), and vomiting (see stomach issues). She is also very susceptible to bronchitis and pneumonia, and ER doctors always assume she’s a smoker, although she never has been (although I question the decade of the 60′s, but she insists). She is on oxygen at night.
• Diabetes – I never knew this, but you can develop diabetes from high medical trauma. 7 years ago, she almost died on a cruise ship. What saved her was an emergency blood drive on board ship, while they transfused her overnight and they got close enough to shore that a medivac unit could get to her. She spent a week in a Mexican ICU, and another month in the hospital here in the U.S. That’s when she developed diabetes, which is insulin dependent.
• Mental issues – She DEFINITELY has undiagnosed mental issues which can be exaggerated depending on whatever medications she’s on at the time for the various medical crises that are occurring. My house growing up was… interesting. Picture being in 6th grade or so, and being woken up to your mother vaccuming your room around 3:30am because it simply had to be done then. Or literally kicking your door in because she had laundry to give you and she felt you were too slow to get to the door to open it for her. Like I said. Mental issues.

And we come to today. Last night into this morning, she became too weak to walk. My dad, with my help, can care for her full time – as long as she is mobile. As long as she can make it with wheelchair assistance to the car for the doctors, or other places, or walk to the bathroom with assistance, we can care for her. But if she’s not semi-mobile, we’re simply not equipped. Long story short, we took her to the ER, where they basically said there’s nothing medically wrong with her right now, and do you have an advance directive? Time for hospice or a nursing home, ’cause we’re not going to help you. She has been moving into dementia. So my day was spent alternatively picking her up to adjust her on the bed, or holding her down so she couldn’t get out of bed (we didn’t want them to use restraints). We have moved her into a nursing home where she’s supposed to be getting physical therapy to strengthen her again to be able to walk. I don’t know if she’ll be coming back out again. This isn’t what either my mom and dad want, but we can’t care for her this way, so I told my dad if he wants her home, we have to get help in the home, period. He’s always fought this, but I think he finally sees the writing on the wall.

In addition, she has always insisted that she didn’t want to be kept alive by artificial means. But… Now she won’t talk about it. She said that the hospital has her wishes on file (they can’t find it), and when I tell her that, and that I just need to know what SHE wants, she tells me it’s not “your fucking business.” Yes, that’s my 80 year old mother’s mouth for you. (My children didn’t learn the term “asshole” from me.)

When she’s not in “right mind” she’ll have full conversations with you, they just aren’t quite right. Today, in the ER, she went in and out of lucidity. Frankly, though, she’d also had two doses of morphine. I don’t know why, but instead of rolling with it, my dad corrects her. I rolled with it, and it went a lot better. For example, she understood that she was going to another facility. Out of nowhere she tries to get out of bed. I put her back and asked what she needed. She said she needed to pack (she knew she was going somewhere). I just reassured her that I had already packed for her, and her stuff was waiting for her. She wanted to make sure that Jack (her dog, dead 45 years ago) was being watched. I assured her he was. She was satisfied. My dad, on the other hand, is telling her she’s not going on a trip, she’s in the hospital, and she doesn’t have a dog. That just seemed to confuse her. I don’t know what the “right” way to handle it is, I just know that my way seems to calm her and make sense for whatever she thinks is going on. His seems to agitate her, probably because she knows something’s not quite right, and he’s confirming that.

And, apparently, when she dies, she wants her body donated to science, because of that ultra-rare heart thing. And, my dad needs advance directive stuff. So my afternoon has consisted of research, but I’ve got paperwork in place in case it happens today (it won’t – but I’m a planner), they just need to sign on the dotted line.

It’s been a very strange, fucked up day. And now I’m on “middle of the night call” alert.

Being a grownup sucks.