I’m Spending My Holiday Weekend In Prison. Yay!

Ahhh, the beginning of a long, holiday weekend and I’m still feeling terrific. I don’t know if it’s the recent online-shopping excursion, blog-love I’ve been receiving from all of you, or the fact that my new, improved, sassy attitude is really starting to get on my husband’s nerves, that has left me feeling higher than a smoke stack. Oh well, anyway I can get it ain’t a bad way, right? Therefore I’m just going to roll with it.

My son left last night to go into the big city and spend the holiday weekend with friends, so I’m childless at this point. Well, unless you count the animals…which are becoming a pain in the ass! Pandora Kitty just dropped that litter a week or two back and is already out trolling around all night looking for a new baby-daddy. Both girls ran out yesterday afternoon when the screen door was left ajar, but only Lucretia had the common sense and motherly-love to come back a couple hours later. So here I am wandering around last night as I have five, little kittens mewing for their trollop mommy who is no where to be found, and ended up having to be a bit resourceful. I gathered them all up and stuck them in with Lucretia and her five.

Now this isn’t the first time that poor Lucretia has had to babysit her sisters kids. In fact, it’s happened several times in the past week. This night, however, was the first time that she didn’t come home. I see a pattern forming and wonder if Lucretia is going to end up being one of those relatives that has to raise the other’s off-spring. And my locking the door and going to bed early was not an excuse either. I made the mistake of drinking a bottle of Pepsi last night and it kept me up till 1:30 am, so that bitch had plenty of time to partake of fun and get home. She just chose not to. After standing outside in the darkness for what felt like forever and yelling her name to no avail, and finally went to bed.

My husband got up at 4 am to ready himself for work, and when he let the dogs out guess who was waiting on the porch? Yeah, she may not know where she lives when her kids need fed, but she sure as hell doesn’t forget when she’s the one that’s hungry, does she?  He told me she came in and had been wandering around since looking for her babies. Arrggghhhh! I shouldn’t have given a shit, but I got up anyway. I have to admit, she did look a bit remorseful and pathetic when I saw her sitting on the empty bedding in the middle of the kennel looking at me like WTF? Against my better judgment, I appeased her. I went to the kitchen to Lucretia’s kennel in the corner, and there at 4:30 in the morning I sat sorting through ten kittens to figure out which were hers. Two look Tabby-ish and are easy, two have a sort of tortoise mask so that’s a given they’re Lucretia’s, but six black ones are not so easy now to sort through. They are all starting to put on weight, all their eyes are open, and all their ears have popped up. In the dark, corner of the kitchen I sat on the floor looking a bit like Lady Justice with the scales, as I tried ‘feeling’ which kittens were heavier in my hands with my eyes closed.  I think I got it right. Guess it really doesn’t matter. Lucretia’s been nursing all of them. I had half a mind to stick them all in with Pandora and see how she likes it! All is well this morning though. And that bitch is sadly mistaken if she’s thinks she’s going out to party this holiday weekend, cause I’m keeping her under lock and key! There’s only enough room for one Pissy Kitty in this house, and as I’m it, I call the shots!!

Well, this decorating madness has taken hold of me, and I see there’s no stopping it now. I know this, because when my husband got home and the conversation rolled around to what projects I have planned this summer, he began his usual pattern of trying to dissuade me, and I broke out a can of ‘whoop-ass’ attitude on him. There we sat on the couch, as he’s trying to watch tv, and I’m rambling on in my usual fashion without his participation, talking about possible colors I can paint the focal wall. My first idea was a muted, antique, dark-blue. This got his attention.

Him:  “I don’t want to come in and look at a blue wall.” He tells me without even glancing in my direction because ‘Swamp People’ are on.

Me:  “I don’t care.”

Him:  He sends me a sideways glance to let me know he’s actively participating in the conversation, has an opinion, but not really interested. “I do, and why the hell would I want to come in and look at a blue wall if I don’t like it?”

Me:  “Again…I don’t care. I do.” I stood my ground, giving a little rock to my head to let him know I meant business.

Him:  “You know, I can’t figure you out. It wasn’t too long ago you wanted to do the living room in knotty-pine. Now all of the sudden you’re talking about painting the damn wall blue.” He shakes his head to let me know he confused by how indecisive and wishy-washy I am, while pursing his lips together to show his dissatisfaction. This usually determines the beginning of the end to the argument. Not this time!

Me:  “Noooo…you liked the knotty pine, and I just agreed with you as I was willing to go along with anything to get this ugly paneling off the wall!” I can purse my damn lips together too. See…this is how I do it!

Him:  “Okay, so we were going to do the knotty pine, what’s with the damn, blue wall you want?” Frustration has now begun to enter his voice, because a conversation he finds useless that is not so easily coming to an end, has interrupted his show and he’s missing part of the Cajun-French people trapping alligators.

Me:  “Because the knotty pine never happened! Just like gutting the living room of plaster walls, insulating, and putting up drywall never happened! Just like fixing the broken plaster wall behind the paneling above the fireplace never happened! If I wait for you to care or get motivated NOTHING will happen, so I’m going to paint over the whole damn sh-bang and the focal wall will be any damn color I choose! It can’t look any fucking worse than it already does, CAN IT?” I say this indignantly as my head was a rocking, my lips drawn tightly across my face, and arms folded across my chest.

Here it comes! Wait for it….wait for it…wait for it…

Him:  “Oh, great! So now we’re going to fight about this shit over the whole holiday weekend!” He says turning to look at me and giving me his complete, undivided attention.

There it is!… My husband’s solution to finishing every conversation he feels he’s trapped in. It starts with now we’re going to argue, to.. all I wanna do is argue (thus, labeling me difficult to get along with–which he milks), to.. he’s not willing to argue… and then that–is well–that! Conversation is over. He wins, I lose, the subject is dropped. Er… screech…halt! Not so fast…. Oh, I let him get comfortable for a minute as I prepared my next speech, but not too comfortable.

Me:  “Nooo… We ain’t fighting all weekend, because there’ s nothing to fight about. This is just the way it is. Suck it up…. cuz it’s gonna happen!” I say doing my best impression of Carol Burnett’s character ‘Eunice’ when she’s pissed. “I’ve been sitting here for over six years waiting for shit to get done, and I ain’t waiting anymore. I’m painting the damn walls any color I want, you’re buying the paint, and then I’m ripping up all this ugly, damn carpeting!” I waited, cause my complaining about the carpeting and wanting to rip it up is a sore-spot for him that I absolutely can’t win an argument over.

Him:  He sits quietly looking at me for a minute or so like a fighter sizing another fighter up before he says a word. “I don’t wanna hear you complain about the wood floors being cold this winter.” He says, looking away to resume watching his show.

And that, my friends, is how I won this round!

Okay, so I don’t know how all of you are spending your holiday weekend, but it looks like we’re taking out the scoot tomorrow since it’s going to be beautiful, and Sunday I’m going to see my kid in prison. Yes, our visitation papers were finally approved, and I’m ecstatic! I suppose I could be like some and be ashamed of the fact that my kid is in the joint and try to hide it, but I’m not and I don’t. My 26 year old son is a handsome, brilliantly-intelligent man, with a huge heart, that has made some shitty choices in life because of an addiction to drugs that he acquired. I do not use drugs now, nor have I used any drugs since a year before he was born, so I take no responsibility for his bad choices. It took me a long time to say that, and I am now confident that I did the best that I was capable of doing with what I had to work with at being a good parent, and these decisions he made were not a result of anything I did or did not do. However, even though his incarceration is a result of his own actions, I don’t and won’t let that define who he is and feel no shame. Who he is, is a wonderful young man who is loyal to friends and family, incredibly talented at art, well-read, a jack-of-all-trades, someone who gives great thought to what he’s going to say before he speaks, thoughtful and considerate of others feelings, very respectful of his elders, and has great inner-strength that allows him to push forward through the greatest of adversity. His father was an abusive, alcoholic/addict and a no-show most of his life, I have battled with my own demons called depression, the kid didn’t have it easy and I’m surprised he turned out as well as he did under the circumstances. I love my son. I will never be ashamed of him and will always be proud to claim him as my son!

Well, I suppose that’s enough dirty laundry for today folks. I hope all of you have a wonderful weekend. I can’t promise any posts for the next few days, as I’m actually going to try and get out and have a life this weekend. I encourage you all to do the same. Happy..Happy..Joy..Joy..


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