Friday, October 24, 2014

grounded till you're eighteen, and I mean it

Some years are calm and happy, or manic and happy, with lots of progress, or lots of contentment.
This year is not that year.

On the other hand; my kid is LITERALLY grounded till she's eighteen. How often can a parent get to do that, for real? Talk about silver linings. She's eighteen in a few months, and she is so so grounded till then.  I've never been so mad at a kid for so long. I've never wanted to actually throttle a child before, but I kept picturing my hands around my kids neck, for a week after I busted her. She pointed a gun at her life, and has the half-witted temerity to be angry with the rather large group of adults and professionals who went out of their way to catch the bullet that she fired. I get that she's young. I get that she's got a limited perspective. But people who literally saved her sorry ass are standing around with burn marks on their hands and she's irritated they got involved. My child, ladies and gentlemen. Between courts and hospitals and even more money problems trying to be solved with lack of same, I've been wishing I was a drinker lately. A glass or three of wine at night seems to help smooth over the rough spots just fine for everyone else. I know I shouldn't drink with my health problems and my family history of addiction, but something's gotta give.

My dog died. I keep trying to write about it and I just can't. I'm embarrassed that his death has hit me so hard. He's been a constant companion to me during a lot of illness, a lot of  moving around, a lot of loneliness.
I hate walking without a dog. I hate how a dog-free house feels. I miss seeing his little face watching in the door window, whether I was coming or going. He went everywhere with me.  He was a companion, not just a pet, and I'm glad he's not suffering anymore, but I really miss him. He had such a big personality for such a little guy. He used to go around the house at night and make sure everyone was home and tucked in.
I could get a new dog, I'm not totally opposed to that, but it would be nuts to do so when I'm trying to get out of this house and into a smaller, cheaper one. I may be supernaturally slow at moving, but I've done it enough to know that adding a new dog to this mix would be badbadbad.

So. Some years are better than others, no?

Books I liked this week:

None of them. My NOOK broke. Because of course it did. I'd wager my laptop's on its way out, the way things are going.
I could read a paper book, but my bedside lamp broke, because, this year, remember? Not. My. Favorite. One. I could read with the overhead light on, like a rational, problem solving person, but I'm tired of waking up with a book on my face and the light on at three a.m.  I guess I could read a book before bed, but that's the kind of high end solution that's currently beyond me.

TV I liked this week: 

Prison Break: 
Pretty boys trying to break out of the Big House, what's not to like? The writing is perfect for knitting,'s one of those shows that you can look away from for ten minutes and not miss anything. The dialogue is almost hilariously cliched, but it's not too violent, and it's mostly sort of interesting. Actually I think I'm watching because it's got good looking guys pretending to be the most loyal brothers on earth. I maybe shouldn't analyze it.

TV I loved this week: 

I hadn't really gotten on the Idris Elba train until I saw this. He is one charming, beautiful bastard, that's for sure. The writing is good, the acting is seriously great, the plotting is's just so fun. And by fun, I don't actually mean, you know, FUN fun. It's really violent and really terrible, frightening things happen to good and bad people, and it's imaginatively horrible in places, but I can't recommend it highly enough. So. Good.

Pictures I liked this week: 

end; have a good week