Yes. I have been missing for a while with no explanation what-so-ever. Not to worry my precious’s. I am alive and well, no worse for the wear. A lot has happened in the last couple of weeks. Here is the wrap up…
IKE came home on leave from Virginia. It seems he was very lucky as there was a mind blowing earthquake there.
In case you missed the sarcasm, we live in California. We have real earthquakes that take out bridges. Also, the folks in Japan would laugh, but they are too busy dying from nuclear fallout. Ouch.
I went to San Diego to pick him up, because that’s where the NAVY flew him into. A day later he went to the hospital with what I thought was appendicitis. Here’s how the conversation went between all of us.
IKE: I don’t know what’s wrong. (Laying on the floor.)
Me: I think we need to go to the hospital.
Me: You have appendicitis.
IKE: I’m not going. How do you know?
Me: Because I do.
BTM: What’s happening? (Laying in bed.)
Me: Ike has to go to the hospital. He has appendicitis.
BTM: No he doesn’t. He’s a pussy.
Me: Ike. Get up. Get dressed. I am taking you to the hospital. And then I am leaving you to drop the boy off at school.
IKE: I am not going to the hospital for them to tell me I have gas. That would be embarrassing.
Me: So you would rather DIE from appendicitis?
BTM: He doesn’t need to go to the hospital. How do you know it’s appendicitis? Have you ever had appendicitis? Have you ever had experience with appendicitis?
Me: Ike. Get up, get dressed, get in the car.
As I dropped him off I yelled out the window: Tell them you are having trouble breathing! They will get you right in! Later he had surgery removing his appendix. Dear BTM. It seems I do have experience with appendicitis.
In case of emergency in Los Angeles, please follow these rules.
When you call 911 in a non medical emergency, always tell them you saw a gun. Cops will arrive in 2 minutes. They love a guy with a gun.
When it is a medical emergency and you need to go to the hospital, always tell them you can’t breath. You won’t have to wait for 5 hours to see the doctor.
The Boy started school and it was a whole thing, because we moved and we live in a different school district and I wanted him to go to school at his old school. I had to go to the district office to get a transfer and this really sweet lady who was very kind asked if she could talk to me privately. I followed her to a room and sat down. She dove right in. “Look. There is no easy way to ask this, so I am just going to come right out with it.”
I sat there expectantly wondering what in the hell she was going to ask.
“Are you homeless?”
More on this story later. Because it’s too fabulous not to tell you.
Also, I cleaned the garage. Now I can hardly move. Rhuema-fucking-toid arthritis.
I am sure a whole lot of other things happened, but my short term memory is shot. It could be old age, or brain poisoning. Which is also another story.