"There are notes between notes, you know." -- Sarah Vaughan

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Come to jesus meeting

When I was home for my Granny's funeral, my brother wasn't able to attend. The night before he was complaining about some health issues and when I got home I asked him if he was alright. He said, sure.

The next morning when I got up to get dressed and told him to get up, too, cause we needed to be at her house at 11 a.m. to meet the family, he was complaining about the same health issues and said he would drive his own car. My mom had gone out to do her daily exercises, so when she came back I told her something was wrong with him. Me and Mr. SLS went on over to Granny's house. Turns out my brother had to go go the ER and was admitted to the hospital while we were saying goodbye to Granny.

That night my parents and stepmom went to see him and they all had a "enough is enough, too much stinks like shit" meeting with him.

Basically they said he needed to get himself together because they could not and would not provide for him any more as they were getting old and needed to take care of themselves.

All this is shocking to me, frankly, because he's been able to play my parents against each other for years so to have both of them and my stepmom united and doing an intervention of sorts was serious business.

I don't know if it's made any difference with my brother, but we will see.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Who's the Boss?

I watch the show Mad Men and it's a show about the characters more than it is about any activity, though advertising is done a bit here and there.

But there's one character (the blonde lady in the pic) who divorced her husband (dark-haired fella in the pic) and remarried. And she and her new husband live in the house she shared with her ex-husband. The house he bought.

For some reason that's been bothering me and I was about to post something on Facebook about it when I realized something: I live in the house that my husband lived in with his ex-wife.

Now, I can tell you that his house was always a placeholder as our plan was to sell/rent mine, then sell/rent his and buy something together. And I can tell you that I moved in with HIM because he was uncomfortable moving into MY house. He wanted us to live in the house that he had bought for his family (along with his house being closer to amenities and walking distance to my job).

And while I felt a little bit some kinda way about this (<--how about my mama says this all of the time now? She says it's the perfect expression for how she feels at given moments) in the beginning because my house is bigger, I have to admit that I mostly believe in traditional roles for husbands and wives, e.g. the husband is the provider, the wife is the homemaker. So I moved my stuff in and started making it into our home (last wife was trife and didn't decorate or nuttin'). And (when it comes) my rent that I get for my house is my money. I don't pay the light bill, the water bill, the cable bill -- nothing.

I'm good.

(Bringing it on back to why I started this post) This is why I am puzzled about why a man would be comfortable living in the house that another man bought for his wife. Seems to me he would need to get somewhere else for them to live, something HE had provided as a husband. And this dude is wealthy so money is not the issue. He complained about it once and then it's never been mentioned again, as far as I can tell.

What do guys think?

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Saying goodbye

I've been gone longer than usual because my Granny passed away last Wednesday. It wasn't unexpected -- my dad told me she had declined to have some surgery and the doctor said she would likely pass away in the next two weeks -- but it was sooner than we thought it would be: just two days after she declined the surgery. Thankfully I was able to get there in time to say goodbye.

I am...sad, but then, I'm not either. I'm sad, because as I've written on this blog before, Granny was very loving and I was her ONLY granddaughter and as a kid, she was the ONE person who constantly and consistently told me she loved me. I never doubted her love for me and my brother, though I (too) often took her for granted.

I'm kinda not sad because in the past few years she had gotten to the point where she couldn't cook, bake or socialize. Granny was all about the cute and the baking and she was unhappy. I know she is peaceful now so, while I would have loved to have her with me for much much longer, I know it's not all about me and what I wanted.

In any case, my Granny was jazzy. Check her out:

And something she would have loved happened: our family got together and laughed and shared stories and hugged and cried and ate and filled her house the way it always used to be before she got sick.