It’s my birthday, bitches!!! I know that some grimace at the prospect at growing older. Another year of new wrinkles and sagging boobs might be a drawback, but let me just say, many don’t get the privilege of getting older. So, I am embracing the crap out it. Let me point out that this past… Continue reading Birthday Girl!
That title is pretty creative, right? A good title draws the reader in and well, I can’t make this shit up. I mean, I can, but my reality is often more entertaining than anything my imagination could makeup. Yesterday, I was the pillar of being of service. Being the dutiful daughter, I escorted my mother… Continue reading The Sweet Potato and Sombrero
This week has been weird. Weird in the sense that it took a while for my germ invasion to clear and having my mother thrown in the mix of that because of her caregiver’s accident, well, it has made for a bumpy ride. On top of that, I am behind on my revisions and wondering… Continue reading Why?
Monday was bliss. My mother was enjoying her new caregiver and I was patting myself on the back for a job well-done. Of course, I should have known that my euphoric bubble would burst. Yesterday, my caller ID revealed the agency that employs the caregiver. My stomach clenched. I started to break out into a… Continue reading What Now
Let me state for the record, it is rare that I get sick. Maybe it is because I limit my time with the human race or perhaps my immune system is a rock star. Whatever it is, I love it. Except my immune system apparently is a cheating whore because she seems to have gotten… Continue reading Sick Day
As I drove over to my mother’s yesterday, I was preparing for the backlash. Her unhappiness with the caregiver situation has been palpable. Both my sister and myself have had the unfortunate experience of listening to the many reasons why the caregiver won’t work, and a list of other complaints that would take an entire… Continue reading Punked
Well, crossing my fingers and toes was counterproductive yesterday. It always hinder my ability to walk or type. Anyway, 15 minutes into the shift where my mother’s new caregiver would shadow the existing one, I get a phone call asking me for my presence at her house. Sweet. Baby. Jesus. I already knew where this… Continue reading The Compromise