Lawsuit Lotto
Let the games begin. . .
The current round of flashbacks started yesterday afternoon with a call from the insurance company. Since Mommy was a passenger in the vehicle, her heirs are entitled to a substantial settlement. The other grandfather needs a new macho wagon. His 2012 model is showing its lack of maintenance. He has hired a lawyer to be sure he gets his *due*. The children won't need a new macho wagon for longer than his foresight can see. Education trust? What's that? How do you say that in Spanish?
I am ever so grateful that Hubby has kept his educated view of that in check while I babbled about the real time conflicts of coming from a family tree full of such high fiber nuts. University of Prison graduates. . . The eternal hunt for the life changing lawsuit victory. . . Lawsuit windfalls pissed away quicker than last night's beer. . . Declarations that they would be fine if they had *your* money. . . Etcetera, etceteri. . .
The scenario is so common that the insurance company has a standard procedure for protecting orphans from such family benevolance. The other grandfather was talking lawyers before he even asked where his daughter's body was. The insurance company had the logic spotted before Hubs found the funeral home to handle the arrangements. Their agents were testing the water to see if the children have anybody in their corner that values their welfare over a new macho wagon before the funeral arrangements were complete. Yesterday they called to let us know the lawyer has been hired. Can we work with them to see the children's interest will be protected. Go guys. I won't put such money in my own pocket. I have to put my hands in those pockets. I likes to keep 'em clean. A trust fund to honor their mother's love for them is a horse of a different color. Her housing project hoard piles arenae much of a legacy and despite her life struggles, I have zero doubt of her love for these children. I have zero doubt these children NEED to honor that love. Let the games begin. En garde, my housing project wise man.
Prayers in progress. . . Healing hopes for all. No exceptions.
During their first year of marriage, my DIL asked me to show her how to estrange her family as I had estranged mine. I talked her out of it. The sucking black hole of estrangement is hard to live with, however damaged the limb you have pruned from the family tree. My confidence in that stance is sorely shaken this morning.
More prayers. . .
Replies
And I am raging. . . The house was in need of some raging housework, so. . . So far so good on the anger channeling exercises. The little ones are up early and rather touchy on their efforts to make sense of the day. Thank you, Gampy, for playing with the children rather than trailing after me with your *fix it* drives. No screwdrivers in the ears, my academically accredited romantic. Let them loose screws rattle. Precision torquing is easier when you observe before you torque.
After I finished vacuuming, I joined the party with a wandering wonder of whether this would be a good day to start work on the Vermicomposting yard Gampy and I have discussed since we were young and cute. The dream was old enough to be new to the children. The first step in sharing the dream was translating "Vermicomposting" to "Worm Yard." Big Bro is wearing his Fortnite (tm) skeleton pajamas. His bones are to be the first worm meal in the yard. . .
Love my little earth worms :).... when digging mindlessly, coming across worms, I'd find a special straight stick, almost as wide as the worm, then poke a hole after I'd done my dig/weed, place worm end on the hole and watch it wiggle it's way back down into the earth.....heres to the hope the little ones might get a giggle watching nature tv during your prep time! (((hugs)))
Yo. . . Wormy girl. . . I have just the job for you! ! ! Don't pay worth a damn, but you get all the compost tea you can drink.
Save some for the fields.
I don't play in dirt. My dad, however lives to be out in the backyard. Everything he touches..the remote, the couch arm rest...etc gets gimmey. He loves to walk "his land". The suburban backyard that is just fenced in.
I got the security cameras looking at the grass and driveway. I had to have something new to tinker with. Its a quiet neighborhood still.
Hugs and support Arfie.
More and more I am getting finicky about the diffs between soil and dirt. What's in your biosphere, basement boy? I'll bet you dollars to wishes that my earthworms are cleaner than your command headquarters.
Keep jacking your controllers, Robo Cop. Your dad and I have property lines to walk. Keep your e-germs off our earth worms.
ES has joined the lawsuit lotto choir. From his current position, there isnae a civil court in the world that will give him a hearing, but . . .
The string of texts he sent to Hubs was all about the bucks and what we are doing to play the system. No tragedy in the death of his brother or the orphaning of his nephew and nieces. Just the profit motive. Baby needs a new crack pipe. . . Preferably a fully loaded one. . .
Again I wonder which of my sons died first.
Oh Arf…… They should absolutely step aside.... This is awful and I would be furious..... It's very expensive to raise 3 children ….. Medicine, lodgings, education, food clothing.... utilities....WTF is wrong with them.... They should be ashamed of themselves.... Truly ashamed...
I am so sorry that you're going through this extra crap ….. Huge hug.....xo
Invest in a punching bag maybe?????
I have relatives who show up with calculators at funerals and tragedies with lawsuit potential for gain, arfie, so I'm sorry to say it sounded familiar now when you wrote: "The other grandfather was talking lawyers before he even asked where his daughter's body was." Sigh. You hang in there and persevere through this insurance process to be sure your care for the grandkids is supported, ok?
Let's hear it for *justice.* Or is that *Just Ice?" My vote is to put the money in an education trust fund in Mama's name. Let Mama be a part of the life she wanted for them. Just voting. . . Letting the Gnarly Old Dickhead lead the dance.
I didn't make it into the proposed worm yard. Instead I channeled the anger into filling the hole in the barn floor from the plumbing leak that sprang in the first days of the crisis. I am happy to report it worked well enough to get me through the afternoon. The turkeys approved. The hole was in their yard.
The Samhain Moon is nearly full. Think I'll go howl at it. Druidic dogma has it that the veil between the secular and spiritual world thins during the Samhain Moon. The original All Hallows Eve. . .