In My Father's House

I got home yesterday evening. I might be leaving sometime on Tuesday to head off to Timbuktu (figuratively, not literally).

If I do go, when I get back, I’ll be leaving again. Probably.

At least I’m staying pretty local. At the moment.

My life is even less predictable than usual lately:

I headed back to my home state from my grandmothers because of a jury summons, but though I was trying to think positively and decided it would be an interesting experience if I was chosen, really, the chances seemed pretty slim. Especially by the time there was only about three days left in the month. Not so.

While jury duty was still in limbo, I wasn’t sitting around, I applied for an office job.

I got the job.

And then something came up and I said, “uh, no, thank you.” I may sometimes be dumb, but I'm not stupid. Actually, in this case, just unwise.

Poof, the trap door job opened up and I started the caregiver job with Bessie.

Jury Duty

Two of Bessie’s daughters decided that they wanted to stay with her over the weekend and see if she needed more care. When I got that call, I had a feeling that door might be closed.

About a week later, on a Sunday evening, one of my brothers called and his wife had been put on partial bed rest for the rest of her pregnancy. Because I wasn’t currently gainfully employed, I was able to head into town the next morning and stay with them through Saturday.

Her mother and little sister are there through this coming Thursday and then I think the plan is for me to go back again .... And try not to frustrate Mrs. B.T. too much.

“Put the butter in the microwave and turn it like every 5 seconds.”

I looked at her and say, “the microwave?”

It’s true, I did things like that to her a few times. Sometimes I’m just in that kind of mood. But then, she’s married to my brother who has got to be a minimum of twenty times worse.Really. Believe me, I'm his older sister.

My nephew is not quite sure about this arrangement, and he occasionally looks at me like I’m a “most strange and unusual” aunt. Maybe he’s onto something.

Perhaps if I take him for enough walks and play with him in the yard enough, he’ll decide I’m not so bad after all.

I on the other hand, always find myself caught a little bit off guard when I realize he has a sin nature. How can a little feller with such adorable blue eyes and wavy blonde hair not be an angel?

“Oh, he’s not perfect.” And then it seems silly that I should be surprised.

Well, I’m not sure what’s around the corner, but I think this should be my new motto: “Having a positive attitude one catastrophe at a time.”

In everything give thanks.

T.W.

P.S. I got myself a cup of hot cider! :)