Finally, I get to blog after doing SIX errands with my parents. We awoke too early, thinking we’d attend mass but figured the crazy woman living next door to us would stalk/follow us to church.
So we waited/relaxed for another one and one-half hour after breakfast before leaving to travel one freaking hour along northbound HWY 101 due to traffic.
And we checked-in to the ten o’clock doctor appointment, just in time. We sat down and listened to the Nordic walk-through the “Bible” of pre-op.
Mom said the attending nurse and surgical doctor looked at Mom’s expensive diamond ring. And she said that’s why they treated me/us “nicer”.
Then we traveled farther north to find the “exclusive” location for Mom’s surgery. It was in the middle of some old houses, just part to old Sion Piory church where Das Squirrel got married.
En route to this place and back, I really started to boost MY sector. During the earlier traffic travel, I saw dark purple clouds westward.
I got pissed and wondered how much longer this freaking drought would last. This was the time I sent my initial pissed-off boost: 0911.
I kept boosting during the drive mostly, of course, since I was “outdoors” and less distracted without people talking and making human noises.
I tried to shake up my mind-controlling symbiot. I always knew I wasn’t myself because of the relaxed, foggy-brained feeling. For many slong years, I allowed that to happen.
But this day, I came out of my sleepiness and continued to shake off the battle to regain my brain, mind, and thoughts.
It, however, continued to establish its strong hold unto moi as I could feel my mind relax. But I would fight back during the drive and up to now toss evening.
Team Orgasm, for example doesn’t know when to stop connecting with me, especially Lilly, the drug-user. She’s an energy parasite from the way her eyes glare weirdly/widely in her website.
So those folks are messed up in their own special ways. That’s why I stopped participating in their crappy “business as usual”. If I was irritated enough like the dream blogger, I too would throw their bulky things down to the floor/against the wall/into the trash bins.
Anyway, we ate at McD for lunch. I had the $2 Double Jalapeno burger, Mom had her 1.5 cheeseburgers, and Dad had his usual fish burger. We ate our ice cream cones. That was after attending noontime mass
Father Mike, the tall military guy, was the presiding priest, who did the Exposition of the blessed sacrament first and then said mass, thanks to the microphone, which helped. I only wished I could hear the organist/pals announce the numbers/titles of the songs louder as I kept asking Mom to repeat words into my left ear hole!
I sang louder this time and the Chinese kid/organist/guy kept looking into my direction while I sang the alto version to “Praise To The Lord” in D-major of their red/hard-cover Adoremus, versus our green hymnal in E-flat major.
Back to Father Mike, he looked disappointed and much thicker/fatter from the last time he was pastor at our local SVP church. Plus, he grew out his brownish Mestizo hair. He mentioned Cano in his prayers, whom I suspect attended that mass. But I don’t know.
After lunch, we bought gasoline for Dad’s Mazda and then eight gallons of bottled water from the local water store owned/ operates by a bunch of Vietnamese.
Then we went home, said three sets of rosary prayers and took our mid-afternoon nap (and to catch up on my sleep because I was moving my old computer files until 0230 in the morning), upon which Dad awoke me around 1700, or 1717, when Mom took her blood glucose level prior to dinner with a surprise visit from Das Squirrel, who continued his damned Facebook activities in our presence.
Yeah, so we suspect his Twit Wifey, an older fart by one year, wasn’t home. He appeared so hungry that he sat down at the dinner table. He ate our left over meal of “Mediterranean Kabob and Gyro”.
Yesterday/Sunday, we walked around TGM and ate “Sam’s Combo Meal” number 18, which contained well-flavored/soft rice with chickpeas; fresh salad of tomatoes, parsley, cucumber, lettuce; thin slices of spicy meat (my favorite); chunks of salmon; and three kabobs of chicken, beef, and lamb. We ordered two on site and then a third to-go.
It’s the healthiest meal ever. Plus, Mom loved this type is food, including the brown, pita bread. She didn’t see any floating grease she normally sees/tastes with Chinese food. It’s worth the price.
Anyway, it’s 2006, and Mom is still sleeping with her mouth open. She didn’t feel comfortable in the sofa earlier and is better on the reclined barcalounger.
So tomorrow I report back to my temp job from hell. I wonder if Sabrina is coming back to work or if she’ll be a stay-at-home mother for her newborn or not. I still have to give her baby a gift we bought two weeks ago from my measly wage of ten bucks an hour.
I’m ready to try something different, like NOT working but staying at find because my parent’s have lots of doctor appointments to keep and Dad is still good but not that great in driving.
Mom suggested that I try volunteering at the performing arts center with the old folks instead of staying at home. Whatever. I’m like my Dad, angry and anti-social, the blood line of fighters.
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