Date Movie? Eaugh! And More...

I watched what was undoubtedly the stupidest movie I have ever seen tonight. Don't ask me why.. We wanted something funny, so L rented "Date Movie" because someone somewhere said it was funny. Well let me tell you right now that someone somewhere is a drooling myrmidon, because that was the most unfunny movie I have had the misfortune of seeing since "Deuce Bigelow." And that is saying something.

L cooked dinner tonight: chicken with mushroom sauce, saffron rice, and broccoli. (We like broccoli. Actually it was on sale.) Anyway, yum. He is now engaged in one of his favorite activities: Sitting in front of the TV reading a book. Yes, the TV is on.

Monster Head is prowling around the house, pretending to be afraid of things so he can fluff out his tail. He thinks his tail is very impressive tonight for some reason. He purrs uncontrollably when you pet him. He is a very strange creature.

But then, he was raised by hand, by me. That would make anyone or anything a little strange, in my opinion.

The nurse called from Arkansas this afternoon to give me the update on my mother. Apparently she is driving the surgeon and his entire staff stark raving mad. They are tentatively still planning to do the surgery on Friday, but I am not getting my hopes up, nor am I buying a plane ticket. I just know something is going to come up like it has every week since May. It is too much to hope that this could finally be over at the end of this week, and that she can start getting better instead of sitting there making up new things to worry about.

For instance, she has decided that the house GF is staying at is in a "rough part of town, " or as my grandmother says, in "Hornytown." Why she ever chose that particular name for any less affluent section of town populated by ethnic people I don't know. I always found it embarrassing when she'd say that.. Nothing like an old lady saying "Hornytown" out loud in public (especially when you happen to be walking through that dreaded locale) to make you want to jump in front of the nearest bus, especially if you are nine years old and you can't pretend you don't know her because she has your forearm in a vice grip. .. but I digress.

What I'm trying to say is that Mom has decided that because GF is staying in a "bad part of town" someone is going to mug him and murder him. I tried to point out that an 81-year-old man driving a beat-to-heck minivan and walking around with a cane and holes in his pants is hardly an ideal prospect for a mugger or a robber or anyone looking for cash. But Mom likes to worry. She stays busy with worrying and she doesn't have to think about anything else.. being the magnet for disaster that she is-- her air conditioning unit in her room at the nursing home caught fire last night.

She told the orderlies that she learned something that night. "You can't yell Please Help Me!! because nobody listens. But when you yell FIRE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and scream bloody murder, that gets results!" Of course, smoke pouring out of the doorway probably helps.

But then that's my mother. If there is a deep body of water (she doesn't swim), she falls into it. If there is a car on the interstate that will spontaneously burst into flames, ten to one it will be hers. If there is a short circuit, a one in a million fluke, or an unimaginable series of disastrous events, you can bet that my mother will be at the epicenter. She is Ground Zero. Believe it.

Her doctor says that someday she is going to have to take some responsibility in her care. If she wants to be in control, she is going to have to accept responsibility and accountability. I say she will do that when pigs fly and they're holding the World Series of Ice Hockey in Hell. What she's doing has worked too well for her over the past half a century, and she doesn't intend to stop now.

My God, I could make a million dollars just telling all the stories from growing up with her.

But I only have time for one writing project, and that, dear readers, is this blog. Lucky you. ;) However, I have to go now because Monster is sitting on the desk, washing his white, stubby little paws, in preparation for his imminent attack.