As The Stomach Churns
I seem to be growing in my fanatical belief in The Holy Shit. Nothing brings a brighter start to my day than a smooth, easy Holy Shit. It serves as portense to a smooth flowing day ahead. On a day of Holy Shit, even tragedies and chaos are easier to traverse and process. In one end, out the other. Steady as she goes, Cap'n.
The chaos which hit the farm at the end of June has my stomach churning like rocks through a PVC pipe. Grumble, pip, pop, grouse and all the unholy shits that go with the passing of those rocks. Ouchy, yeowchie, me oh mychie. . . WHERE IS MY HOLY SHIT! ! !
Sigh. . . Breathing. . .
I am ever so grateful that it is Friday. The last day of GS's first week of first grade. Can we start the weekend today instead of tomorrow? Again, the unknown classic from Eagle Pass "Calling in Lazy" sings through my head. "I feel like I've been rode hard and put away wet. I been working like a dog and I'm about to forget 'bout waiting on Friday 'cause I know what I need is a cold beer to suck on and a Western to read."
I find myself trying to remember the last time the days of the week meant much to me. My youngest son graduated HS in 2002. By then he was independant enough that he was keeping his own calendar and I was mostly free to come and go where I wanted, when I wanted. I made several forrays into academic and working life, but none of those gelled well enough to feel like permanant arrangements. I have done quite allot of rambling across North and South Americas while my children wiled their ways into middle age. The only personal significance I have had in the days of the week has been tracking when other people are available to me and the occassional appointment. I have often felt like the richest woman in the world because I have time. Alas, even that wealth can bite you in the unholy shit when the empty hours feel long and lonely.
Sigh again. . . Where's my perfect life!?!??!?!
Onward through the stomach churns. . .
There was talk of Mom and Dad being here early enough to pick up our first grader from school today. Punctuality is a major sore spot in the court case against Mom and Dad, so I am afraid to let GS know about that talk. Explaining broken promises to 6 year olds is not a pleasant task and ? ? ? Well? ? ? Better a pleasant surprise than a broken promise? Just praying. . .
Time to start making the kitchen smells which I have been using as a household alarm clock.
Replies
I know the sound of rocks going through the PVC pipe. I heard it a lot working with my dad. I remember the goofy plumbers at "lunch" on the residential construction site. They were sitting in the cab of their pickup truck, with the windows 1/4 rolled down in the 80F degree heat. A can of PVC joint glue half open sitting on the hot dashboard.
When you mentioned PVC, I had that memory. Yes they were getting loopy on the fumes of the glue. Instead of eating! Wacky plumbers.
I slipped, I got off topic arfie. Sorry about that. Hope your stomach feels better.
Not too far off topic this time, Chris. The plumber humor is especially apropos for colon ailments. I never worked a plumbing crew, but it seemed to me they always had the best jokes. Especially on my grumbly colon days. PVC glue ain't got nothin' on my supersonic farts on a grumbly colon day.
The amazing part is how long it took me to admit those colon grumbles really do hurt. I spent the first half of my life thinking they were *Normal.* Now that I have known the Amazing Grace of a Holy Shit, those colon grumbles are thoroughly unacceptable.
I miss being constructo buff. . . It looks damned good on women, too.
Yes, the freedom is now limited. Yes the weekend begins when school gets out or the work week ends. Oops, with the new arrangement there are no days off. Hope the parents show at the school in a timely fashion. Hugs.
Interesting description, Arfie. “The Holy Shit” is very appropriate way of describing things I’ve experienced, for me crises become easy to handle in that following chaos but you are very accurate in saying it’s “stomach churning”.
Lots of empathy, support, hugs and love my friend.
My definition of a perfect life is a flawed life..., I leave perfection to better people than myself. I like my flaws far too much.
Hugs & love, Arfie!
Huge hug Arf……. I'm tired reading this...…. Kids often like cold veggies and bagels!! …. with some cheese..... I remember this was a go to for my SIL
I feel for you sweetie.... Another hug of support and peace......xo
Is it a good thing that I was smart enough to leave off the possibility of the parental units being there at a specific time? Seems like. . . But. . . At least Daddy updated us that they weren't going to make the school pickup and GS won't be disappointed by the fact.
Imperfection does seem to be a HUGE part of the natural order. It be the flaws that keep us growing, one season following another.
Feel better soon I Hope friend. Triple hugs
Were't bowl movements part of one of the sources of something according to Freud? After my two cups of black coffee in the morning.... I am really to let the "bomb bay doors open" I may be old, but taking a good dump, is satisfying. Gets my day started.
My mom and dad enhance the effect with dried prunes. They eat prunes on road trips too....then we have to make sure we know if there is a rest area or gas station coming up in exactly 30mins. The code word for checking with my mom and dad if "everything" is ok....is "Is everyone ok on the home front"? If the "home front is ok" then we can continue on till the next rest area.
I never liked or needed the assistance of dried prunes. My plumbing is pretty reliable.