Parent-adultery?

Returning from a weekend with my breast cancer grannies, i called Mom down in the Trailer Park.  The weekly call – a habit established almost 30 years ago when i left home.  We went through the usual laundry list of topics:

daisyfae:  How was your week?

Mom: Well, not much going on.  On Monday, I ate some leftovers from KFC.  DQ and BJ had ordered extra chicken livers… [litany of everything she’s eaten for the entire week follows]

daisyfae: Did you get the results back from the “sleep study” yet?

Mom:  They took me back for another sleep over Tuesday night, this time with that mask thing on me.  They say I slept for five hours.  I sure felt more rested.  DQ and BJ tell me that I was in a better mood on Wednesday, too…

And so on…  i ask after my siblings, have they called, what’s the latest and all that rot…  Eventually, she asked how the kids and i are doing.  She asked how work is going… if i’ve had any adventures.

Despite the fact that i’d just returned from a weekend at a lovely regional resort with my elder gal-pals, i just didn’t feel right telling her about it. 

Yes.  You got it folks.  i felt as though i’d been cheating on my mother with two other women.

That, my friends, is supremely fucked up, isn’t it?  Turns out, my weekend excursion was – wait for it – a guilt trip.

Slack-attack

Today was that magical wondrous day where i had my annual performance review.  i have a good boss – provides tough, well-crafted challenges, honest feedback, and doesn’t wait until “annual review” time to provide guidance.  Here’s the Condensed Version:

boss:  Your year was excellent.

daisyfae: LOL – seriously, i sucked.  out loud.  and frequently from home.

boss:  You did a great job.  We love you.

daisyfae:  FFS – i phoned it in.  i wasn’t even trying.  i’ve lost the fire…

boss:  You rock.  Here’s a little more money.

daisyfae: [shaking head guiltily]  ok.

Granted, there was more to it than that – some key areas for improvement*.  And i’ve maxed out – unless i change jobs, or take on some ridiculous or herculean amazonian task, i’m flat-lined.  Which is a good thing.  The goal in my world is to hit “Max Pay” as young as you can.  i’m good. 

There’s a bit of guilt, though… A few weeks ago, as i was stumbling into the office about 45 minutes after my official “start” time, i saw a woman in the parking lot who is a well-documented slacker**.  i remember thinking to myself “Damn.  Hope i’m never that big of a parasite.”  Invariably, as i was leaving early that afternoon to run errands?  There she was headed to her car…

i’m just having a “blue period”.  My motivation will return.  i’ll get my geek-a-rific groove back on.  But in the mean time?  Here’s a current favorite tune*** from The Slackers.

Drool on the keyboard has killed my laptop. Again...

* “Stop tormenting the intellectually challenged and the emotionally unstable”  wasn’t first on the list, but it definitely came up during the discussions.

** i work from home.  she doesn’t.  i’m “on call” 24/7/365 – and will respond to urgent calls from wherever i am, and whatever i’m doing (except *that*).  doubt she does – um, responds, or does *that*.  oh, and i am a helluva lot funnier and dress better.  Fur-lined rubber mukluks with a skirt/suit is NOT a good look for the office.

*** video sucks.  tough to find this one…

Ghost branch in the family tree?

When we last left Mom and her gummed up hydraulic and ventilation systems, her juicy-hot cardiologist* had determined the need to switch up the medications for her high blood pressure.

There is always a bumpy transition when reducing the dosage of the old drug, and ramping up the new one.  The edible Dr M reviewed the process carefully, and painstakingly went over the symptoms which would trigger a call to the office – spike in blood pressure, drop or spike in pulse rate or heart palpitations.

When we got back to the house, I asked DQ to come over from next door to go over the dosing schedule for the next three weeks, as well as warning signs.  Heads nodding in understanding all around – like a Smoking Bobblehead Convention – i was confident that marching orders were delivered and received.

Three nights ago, I got a call at 11 pm from DQ.  Mom had been having heart palpitations for a couple days, and just told DQ about it an hour earlier.  DQ, remembering that this is one of the bad things, wants to call me (she’s a reliable and diligent soldier when given orders). Mom argued with her about bothering me so late – but DQ did call.

After beating through it, and spanking around on the web, we decided it could wait til morning – but that it would be prudent to call the cardiology shop first thing in the morning.

The next day I called mom while driving home, to see what the doc said….

Mom:  “I didn’t call”

daisyfae: “What?”

Mom: “I felt a little better this morning.  I don’t want to be a bother….”

daisyfae: “Ma, this is why we pay them. Haven’t you noticed all the Mercedes and BMW’s in the physicians parking lot?  They don’t mind….”

Mom: “I was afraid you’d have to take off work and come down here if they put me in the hospital for tests…”

daisyfae: “Thoughtful of you, Momma, but I’d rather deal with that than deal with you stroking out on us….”

In my head, I quickly climbed the limbs of her Appalachian-American** family tree.  Czech, German, English….  Nope.  Not Jewish. 

So where does that “I’ll just sit here quietly in the dark until my heart explodes” thing come from?

——-
* Dr M is about 35 years old, gorgeous, considerate, wicked smart and has the patience of a saint. She wears those sexy Tina Fey “smart girl” glasses.  Yeah.  I’ve got a girl crush on her.  Get over it.  Of course, that’s not the only reason I take an entire day off work every few months, get up at 5:30 am, do full “hair and makeup”, drive 120 miles round trip and spend an hour in the waiting room listening to Mom recount the details of every meal she’s eaten for the past week.  I am there to ensure Mom gets to spend a few minutes with the cardiologically brilliant Dr M.  Really….

** Redneck