I know just how this writer feels. I often wonder if my stories are worth telling. I want to hear hers. Reblogged from Healing My Complex PTSD
Dear Auntie Linda, There is no solution for this problem since the die is cast, but I need to vent. My in-laws have always been very distant and made it clear they don’t care for some of their children or grandchildren. Before his death, my father-in-law Bob and mother-in-law Louise established a trust for the division of their property. Louise encourages her son Bob to disown two of his daughters. She has told me and Moe she doesn’t want one of our daughters around. Bob’s wife has been going through Louise’s house for years, accusing the rest of taking valuable antiques. Believe me, Louise wouldn’t let anybody get away with anything. We live next door to Louise. Moe and I take her to church, the grocery store, to the doctor, and everywhere else she goes unless, one of my daughter’s gives us a break. Moe goes down every morning to cook her breakfast and give her insulin shot. Last year, when he worked her cattle and sold them for her, she said she’d divide the proceeds between him and one other brother, who didn’t help at all. It never happened. Louise is a miserable, divisive person. She uses us all to her advantage. She is hinting that everything to my ten-year-grandson, who says he wants to be a farmer, cutting out two children and seven children. I do hope she makes some effort at fairness, since she has spent her whole manipulating and destroying relationships. Disgusted Daugher-in-Law
Dear Disgusted, Don’t hold your breath. People are likely to want to hold as much power as long as possible. She will be able to punish and control as long as her children live depending on how she divides her property. That is a lot of power. Auntie Linda
Dear Auntie Linda, I am sixty-four years old. My in-laws have always been a thorn in my side. I have spent endless days babysitting when my sisters-in-law were sick, had abandoned their families, or just had better things to do. (My husband’s offer, not mine) His brothers or cousins moved in with us when they fell upon hard times. My husband often loaned money without consulting me, causing our family to do without. After my husband died ten years ago, I didn’t bother to keep us with his family, though I have turned down a few requests for loans. My adult son is obsessed with his father’s memory and family, calling me frequently to update me on their family news and encouraging me to rekindle family relationships, even though he frequently can’t make it to gatherings for our side of the family. Recently, a sister-in-law invited me to her birthday party, which I attended. When I told my forty-two year-old-son I was going, he cried, saying he was so happy “the family was getting back together.” Why on earth would a forty-two-year old man be obsessed with cousins and aunts, while showing little interest in his mother, sisters, and his own children? Puzzled Mother
Dear Puzzled, I think you just answered it. He prefers that side of the family, since he misses his father. It is likely the conversation focuses on experiences he enjoyed and talk of his father and good times they experienced. It is not likely he was impacted by the impositions you experienced. Likely, he had a great time if extra kids were in the house. Auntie Linda
Valuable information from The Shameful Sheep.
Fun Fact: A pig’s orgasm can last up to 30 minutes.
Am I the only one that’s pissed about this? This seems pretty unfair. What the hell, God? Is this the price we are paying for eating pigs? If we give up bacon, can we have one last for 30 minutes too?
As I was searching for pig pictures, I came across Esther The Wonder Pig. Have any of y’all heard of her? She was supposedly a “mini-pig” but turned out to be massive. I wonder if you can house-train pigs. Holy shit, she is cute. I want a pig roaming around my house, as long as they aren’t leaving massive poops on my kitchen floor. I’ve been obsessing all morning looking at her Instagram photos. Go look.
Q: What do you get from sitting on the ice too long?
Q: What’s an ig?
A: A snow house without a loo!
Q: Why does it take longer to build a blonde snowman than a regular one?
A: You have to hollow out the head.
Q: Why did Frosty the snowman want a divorce?
A: Because he thought his wife was a flake
What did the mama turkey say to her naughty son?
If your papa could see you now, he’d turn over in his gravy!
Asked to write a composition entitled, “What I’m thankful for on Thanksgiving,”
little Timothy wrote, “I am thankful that I’m not a turkey.”
- The Constitution only guarantees the American people the right to pursue happiness. You have to catch it yourself. Benjamin Franklin
- The Pilgrims made seven times more graves than huts. No Americans have been more impoverished than these who, nevertheless, set aside a day of thanksgiving. H.U. Westermayer
- There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as if everything is. Albert Einstein
- You can only govern men by serving them. The rule is without exception. Victor Kiam
- I don’t have a solution, but I certainly admire the problem. Ashleigh Brilliant
- There are three faithful friends, an old wife, an old dog, and ready money. Benjaminn Franklin
- Those who can laugh without cause have either found the true meaning of happiness or have gone stark raving mad. Norm Papernick
Reblogged an old post in honor of Thanksgiving. Hope you enjoy . Original art by my mother, Kathleen Swain.
We went places and saw people that normal people would never encounter, nor care to. Daddy had heard of somebody living back in the woods about four miles off Tobacco Road who had something he might be interested in buying. He had to check it out, driving forever down muddy roads petering out into nothing. Finally we got back to Mr. Tucker’s
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Daddy had come into some money, so he immediately set to thinking what he had to spend it on. That was the way he thought. If you had money, you had to buy something. He finally settled on three things: a big Ford Truck, the biggest cab-over camper it could carry and a fine Ford tractor. The total of these items was three times his windfall, but that was the way he did things. Angered at the amount he’d spent, Mother ordered six pair of slacks and matching blouses from Montgomery-Ward. He raged at her extravagance. That was also the way they did things.
Anyway, back to the truck and camper. They set off on the typical American road trip. Daddy quickly found the big camper, though rated for that truck, was really too big and made the truck hard to handle. Even passing eighteen wheelers buffeted it about on the interstate. Imagine the challenge it presented on narrow mountain passes. Once, when they decided to go to Pike’s Peak, he unloaded it and left it in the RV camp, not wanting to deal with the excitement.
After they’d been travelling long enough that the refuse tank on the camper had reached near capacity, he pulled up to a dumping station in a national park to empty it. Never one to read directions, he knew he could figure out how it worked on his own, relying on his “common sense.”
He flipped a switch, and “Voila!” The tank emptied on the pad at the dumping station, its contents, solid and liquid, streamed across the busy road. Mother puttered nearby and noticed what he’d done, but didn’t get the big picture. “Why did you dump it here? Is it supposed to go here?”
Meanwhile, passing cars zipped through the refuse, flinging tissue and other unpleasant souvenirs up to await the nearest carwash! Daddy was in a panic, trying to get Mother to hush and get in the truck so they could flee the scene before his ghastly error was caught by a ranger. Mother nattered on, trying to figure out why he’d dumped the tank there, until she realized he was about to leave without her. All’s well that ends well. They managed to get away Scott-free as Mother dug out the instruction book and Daddy fumed.