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The FIL showed up unannounced with one of his Goon Squads and a Uhaul. "Goon Squads" is what I call the FIL's never-ending stream of business associates. Today the squad was moving stuff to a storage unit. I notified my husband, abandoned ship in the style of my military MYOB training and took my guitar to the nearby State Park to sit out the rain with some music therapy under a pavilion shelter. The songs were flowing smoothly enough to make me think I am doing okay. Just another episode of "Little Mall on the Prairie." It took my beloved a while to get back to me because he was in a meeting, but he is still more surprised than I am and clueless what it means to this incomprehensible being his father has become. "Can't possibly understand" is shaping up to be the family legacy the man will leave in this episode of "Little Mall on the Prairie."
The FIL's "goon squads" might be worthy of their own episode. Today it was two burly men who do not speak English, and two Certified Nursing Assistants. One (the Head CNA?) a morbidly obese woman in too tight, brightly colored clothing and the other the immigrant just trying to keep her green card. Who knows what will appear on the next goon squad.
There was no surprise in the FILs ambush. It is his M.O. I still call it, "bitch slapping" and hubby couldn't have known it during the years he invalidated the experience because he has no sisters. It is no surprise, but it is still a seriously nasty experience. It did, indeed, get me hyped and I am still doing my grounding exercises to recover. My beloved was terrifical about talking me through it. In return, I consoled him on his bewilderment on what that means for the bees. He has asked to be the ones who finds new homes for them and was not prepared to move at the speed of a bored retiree.
And in the next episode of "Little Mall on the Prairie"?????
Just venting. I feel much more focused for now. I am consolidating our stuff for rapid evacuation.
The FIL's "goon squads" might be worthy of their own episode. Today it was two burly men who do not speak English, and two Certified Nursing Assistants. One (the Head CNA?) a morbidly obese woman in too tight, brightly colored clothing and the other the immigrant just trying to keep her green card. Who knows what will appear on the next goon squad.
There was no surprise in the FILs ambush. It is his M.O. I still call it, "bitch slapping" and hubby couldn't have known it during the years he invalidated the experience because he has no sisters. It is no surprise, but it is still a seriously nasty experience. It did, indeed, get me hyped and I am still doing my grounding exercises to recover. My beloved was terrifical about talking me through it. In return, I consoled him on his bewilderment on what that means for the bees. He has asked to be the ones who finds new homes for them and was not prepared to move at the speed of a bored retiree.
And in the next episode of "Little Mall on the Prairie"?????
Just venting. I feel much more focused for now. I am consolidating our stuff for rapid evacuation.
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I did the dumbest thing today. I charged my earbuds, unplugged the block and put the block in my little bag instead of the earbuds. I wasn't happy about that when I got to the gym. What a dummy!
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Ever since I stopped doing therapy because of insurance, I've been feeling that old tense and irritable sense of anxiety and stress. I hate that. I was making so many strides and changes during therapy, my therapist would acknowledge all of my progress and accomplishments, and I miss that reassurance. Today I thought about it, and I made those changes! She would always tell me that I chose to...
I can't imagine how confusing this is to the blood family---peace to you and your beloved, and the bees, too.
These days I am wondering if God is trying to show me that the "Therapy Funeral" was the right decision. Again I decide to let that mystery be.
Yes, it is agony for the blood family. At least on my side of the five star nursing home. I am running out of tissues to dry the tears. I can only guess what the strangers on the other side of that privately owned mess are going through. Insufficient data for knowledge or even awareness... And the greatest mystery of the entire production? "How is Great-Grandmother? Is she safe?"
Why do you s'pose he needed to take my art supplies and tools in this run? No matter. It's just stuff. May it serve him well.
I'm pretty certain that even if the landlord owns the property they are required to go through an eviction process of some sort before they can legally kick you out and start tearing things down.
Through a series of father/son talks that I was not part of, my husband, who has been keeping city bees for years, decided to try some hives on his father's "farm." I put "farm" in quotes because my father-in-law has never lived out here. He is a Houston suburbanite to the core of his Exxon annuity. Back when his wife was capable of running a kitchen, she put on hellacious shindigs!!! His wife has not been capable for quite allot of years. The FIL has put on a few using hired hands, but... Sigh. Anyhoo, per father/son agreement, the hives were placed here back in April. My husband and I still have our own homestead in Austin, a two hour drive from here. My husband is an IT manager with work-a-holic hours and responsibilities. He was skeptical about putting bees out here because 1) City bees seem to be doing better than country bees these days. Agricultural communities have limited plant diversity and devastating chemical practices. 2) His paid job is seriously intense. The long-distance bee keeping presents some logistical challenges. But... he has a road-warrior wife with a flexible schedule and I was volunteering enthusiastically to help out. He decided to try it.
At first the bees turned so hostile that drastic measures were needed. It was looking like yet another bee failure in Agricultural Texas. I started staying out here with the FIL's blessings, through his son, to evaluate the problem and tame the bees. It took about a month to calm the hives, but after that, the bees took off with such fervor that I am still here. Three hives grew to six and need to be split yet again. My husband tells me that his father was encouraging the arrangement. I have no direct relationship with his father, so I am here on faith in my husband. I still believe my husband was acting in honest faith in his father's word. He trusts his father much more than I do. To me, his father is a woman patronizing bitch slapper.
Anyhoo, the FIL is negotiating a contract to sell his investment property. Hubs is thoroughly confused by it all and I have no direct access to any of it. I have been suspecting dementia for quite some time now. The fellow is 85 and giving away money like Elvis Presley, but it really is just none of my business...
And that be the news from Houston's next suburb.
It's okay. At least this time hubby and I are singing from the same sheet of music. Repeat, my hyper-vigilance paid off this time. I kept our stuff well consolidated and it is already concentrated into one of the spaces the goon squad cleared today. If FIL needs to take more of our stuff, that's okay. To us, it is just stuff. We can replace it. To the FIL, stuff is proof of his worth. He definitely lives by the philosophy that, "He who dies with the most toys wins." Go Daddy Gas Bucks!!!
Healing hopes for all, no exceptions.