The Carmine Spider Ominously Laughs

Expect the worst, be pleasantly surprised when it fails to happen

I cannot believe this! I am so happy!
The playboy of the western world, my father-in-law, went ahead behind everyones back and actually hired the caregiver I found!!
Oh my God!!!!
No, really, this is huge. I know he did it to make me happy. Maybe that should come farther down the list of Whats Really Important Here, but hell, this is all about me, baby, and I feel loved.
That he needed a visiting caregiver with nursing experience was beyond question. I cannot express to you the relief I feel knowing that someone is there for him. I cannot believe it! This is great!
I know how this battle is going to end. We all know. But it pleases me that all of us are fighting the inevitable tooth and claw, keeping him in his own home as he continues to charm the gilded youths of Whatcom County and make lavish feasts in his own kitchen, and making sure the Porsche stays gassed up. Right fucking ON!!!!! Fuck age. Just fuck it in the heart.


Why yes, we are related. How did you know?

My grandson eats dirt. He prefers a commercial bagged potting soil but cheerfully makes do with common topsoil. He also has a taste for parking lot gravel and must constantly have his spitty little fists uncurled by main force, while he screams, to extract contraband rocks.
He pulls leaves off trees. Once they have been given a lick he tosses them aside.
I caught him yesterday walking on all fours like a little bear and nipping at the grass. "Is that tasty?" I asked. 'Hm, " is all he said. If his mother doesn't read this I fully intend to continue letting him develop his taste for fescue because its cheaper than mowing the lawn. Plus it cracks me up.
He opened a box of laundry detergent and spread it all over the deck. He then announced this development to me by tracking fat baby footie prints all over my house, which was cute but hard on the vaccuum.
He threw rocks at a bee nest on the side of the garage. Although he was surrounded by bees lazily drifting around his head he managed to remain unscathed, and only started screaming when I rushed him away. And took the rocks away from him.
He barked at a cat that wandered into the yard.
He barked at two girls that walked by on the sidewalk.
Two days ago, he carefully removed my curly bamboo from its' jar, extracted the stones and placed them aside, and then rinsed his sandals in the vase.
'What did you think you were doing??' I asked him later.
"Washing my shoe-goes," he replied, looking at me askance.
Translation: "For the love of God, grandmother, they were appalling; did you see them? You couldn't honestly expect me to go out among people looking like that, could you?"



Why no, I have no idea who this child belongs to. Do you want it?

My grandson humps thing. He humps pillows. He humps his Tonka trucks. He humps grandpas' work boots left drying in front of the heater.
This, I could do without, thank you very much. Raising a little girl was one thing; I almost had a rough idea of what to expect. But this whole weiner situation is playing with my head.
If you leave the diaper on him 100% of the time his ass will rot off. But sure as the sun rises in the east, if the diapers' off he's wandering around the house twanging his dinger or jiggling it around, or stretching it out like a noodle. And those things are really stretchy when they're unedited; I mean dang, its like...I don't know what. Something.
But clad or not, one thing is certain, and that's that sooner or later I will be hearing a repetitive thumping noise coming from the front room. And hiding from it.