Skip to main content

A Kick in the Balls



The day started off on a high note. The espresso machine is invigorating. Temps didn't reach 100 before noon. The dog didn't eat breakfast, but he seems feisty enough. And, I was celebrating writing 3,336 words last night.  

Then my son tested positive for COVID. Again.

His dentist's office routinely checks all their patients before seeing them. Ian is anti-covid vaccinations. Even after going through it once.

I've tried to convince him to get a vaccination for my benefit. I'm an old fart. I'm high risk. If he gives me COVID and I die,  he'll feel guilty.

There is a strong possibility he has no concept of the meaning of guilt. Which could be a good thing. It could mean he's never done anything bad enough—that I know about—to feel guilty. As his mother, I refuse to contemplate the alternative meaning of a guilt free mind.

To test positive today, he was probably a carrier last week. I have seen him briefly during doggie drop offs and pickups the last few weeks, but we haven't spent as much time together as usual due to conflicting schedules. I don't recall the last time I hugged him. But, I am pretty sure it's been longer than two weeks.

Still, I've probably been exposed, and probably should quarantine myself. SDSBs. 

He may have given King Midas Covid. That might explain his lethargy, and lack of appetite. Dogs can get it and carry it. Ian will be masking up to take His Majesty to the vet today. I didn't even volunteer to be his proxy.

Uncle confiscated his van this morning. He actually called and asked if he could borrow his own van. Silly man.

Of course not. It's mine now, I tell you.

No I did not say that.

I said, "Of course. It is your van after all."

Deep down I was thinking, MINE.

Bless him for loaning it to me all this time in the first place.

I can drive my own car, as long as it is not raining. I'm still on a list at three different shops, waiting for anyone to get the parts to fix my sunroof. The air-conditioning has been broken for years. Can't afford to fix it. So, I prefer not to drive my own car when the sun is threatening to melt the entire state of Oklahoma. Every. Fracking. Day.

If I absolutely need to go somewhere before Uncle returns, I can always drive his shiny, new truck he left parked in front of my house. I've got a step ladder in the kitchen. 

 

 

 

 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

So Proud of My Son

           On September 30, 2022, my son, Ian Kennedy, opened his business, Naughty Axes Playhouse , at 4407 SE 29 th Street, in Del City, Ok. I'm so proud of him. The place looks great. Especially when it was all decked out for Halloween. He and his partners built all the targets, lanes, and remolded the interior of the building themselves. They did a great job. I didn't even realize my son knew how to use a hammer for anything other than demolition. I had such a great time during their Grand Opening. Throwing sharp objects at stationary targets is really a fantastic way to relieve stress. It's great exercise. Especially for tightening up those flabby underarms. I am bound and determined to become efficient enough to enter a tournament. Wonder if they have a Senior's division in pro axe throwing competitions? Not only is he starting his own axe throwing business, he's also starting his career as a comedian. He's already performed at the Bricktown C

Back from the black

For those who didn't even notice I was gone, I'm back. My husband was diagnosed with Stage 4 Lung Cancer last February and passed away four months later June 21, 2013. I soldiered on the first few months fulfilling speaking engagements and attending conferences and conventions that were already on my schedule before crashing into the black oblivion of widowhood. The last few months I've wallowed in my grief. My mourning period is not yet over  but at least I've finally reached the point where I have accepted that it isn't necessary for me to roll over and die just because he did. Believe me the thought did cross my mind. I'm still bitter and have abandonment issues. When I realized I hadn't written anything or updated my own website or the Norman Galaxy website in over six months I also realized it is time to start breathing again. Yes, there is life after death. Life goes on for those our loved ones leave behind. So I'm crawling out from under

Norman Galaxy Writers Amaze and Entertain

Great Norman Galaxy of Writers ' meeting this morning.  Contest winners read their winning entries. Wow. Some of the stories blew me away; Especially, Katherine West's Short Story— "A Good Hand" filled with enough dark humor even I had to laugh aloud during the death scene.  Shelley Anne Richter's   Nonfiction Article— “Saddle Dwellers” taught me a few things I didn't know about cowboys. I grew up around rodeo stars –my dad was one of them. He was a calf roper and bulldogger. When he wasn't riding in the rodeo he was breaking horses for other people. We always had horses and I learned to ride –Western style- before I learned to walk. I have a friend that rides –English style- and trust me it's an entirely different type of horseback riding.  I thought I grew up as a cowgirl but Shelly's historical view of the real American cowboy tarnished my previously glamorous image of the olden day cowpoke and enlightened me to the harsh re