Latest News

Centenarian is in the hospital with congestive heart failure, so lately I've been a little preoccupied running thither and yon to fulfill Main Lady's needs as best I can; she could do worse for a gopher than my mother's favorite son.  The prognosis is that Centenarian will be discharged Monday, March 19.  The old lady is sleeping a lot and has trouble waking up; her heart is functioning at 10% and she doesn't want to eat.  All of you who have been through this scenario one way or another don't need to be told where this is headed - and it doesn't involve a spur of the moment trip to Disney! in Orlando.

Main Lady made the phone calls to the family yesterday, and that's when the fun started.  Lord give me patience.

I've been taking care of the households and the pets for the last few days, and I was just thinking about lunch when Main Lady called me yesterday.  She was in tears.  I figured Centenarian had cashed in her chips, but I was wrong.  Main Lady talked to her sister Ding Bat who was planning to come North on Easter, but who now is refusing to come up.  I gather Ding Bat's final message was something on the order of "I want to remember mother the way she was."

I tried to offer some kind of consolation to Main Lady, which in my case involves doing a lot of listening in an attentive position and making interested listening noises at appropriate moments.  Main Lady has concluded that her sister Ding Bat has a screw loose.  I asked if that was her professional diagnosis, and she affirmed it was.  I resisted the obvious suggestion for treatment, but I have a feeling that if Excellent Rachmaninoff gets the opportunity to nail an ankle or a nice, chewy posterior, there will be a tasty surprise in his dinner dish.

Flopsy arrived in town this afternoon, which is a mixed blessing.  You see, Flopsy isn't wound too tightly either, and her avocation (theater director) involves telling people what to do and heaping on the verbal abuse when they don't get it right.  Subtle verbal abuse, as Flopsy lives in Moonbat second city (Chicago) and has to deal with artistic moonbats all the time.  Flopsy tried subtle verbal abuse on Big Mike and the result left welts.  I actually like Flopsy and she has many good qualities, but you have to think of her as a defective submachine gun that your sister's husband is taking to the range.  You really want to be around when he slams home a 30 round magazine with the fun switch on and the damned thing goes off?

Mopsy is arriving Monday night, late.  I expect I'll be picking her up at the airport.  When Cottontail shows up, possibly with Que Bee One, the real fun will begin.  You see, any two out of three little darlings will get along, mostly.  Three out of three are guaranteed to start up a class A argument, which Main Lady does not need right now.  Cottontail and Que Bee One have just lost their dog Banana Nose, which is no joking matter, and now their other dog French Pig is getting neurotic and having some serious health problems of its own.  I gather the dog had a bad reaction to some arthritis medication.  Both vets are already under stress from some abusive people at their office, and this increases the stress level.  But wait - there's more!

If Ding Bat actually arrives, and I'm told by Flopsy that she might, that will add fuel to the fire.  The woman really does have a screw loose, and she and Main Lady do not always agree on everything, generally because Main Lady is a genuinely kind, honest and loving person (opposites attract) and Ding Bat is a screwy, neurotic, manipulative bitch on a stick.  Ding Bat will probably accuse me of some nefarious crime or other, and the blog will go dark until Big Mike provides an update involving a legal defense fund.

When I cash in my chips I hope it's due to a massive coronary in my sleep.  Likely it won't be.  Failing that, give me the company of men, who will provide with a drink or two against doctor's orders and join me in some sort of board game that involves the conquering of territory, destruction of other player's tokens and the treachery of broken treaties.  Who could ask for more?