Welcome to my world!

My life's been crazy since my Daddy moved in with me immediately after my mother's death in October 2010. My one and only kiddo headed to college at Carolina at the end of August. So...I lived on my own, for the first time in my life, for a total of a blissful six weeks. Then, I started the parenting gig with my dad. He's a combination of a grouchy old man, a surly teenager and a temperamental toddler. Needless to say, I get very close to the brink of insanity sometimes. I get through life by finding the humor in difficult circumstances. And for some reason, I wind up in the weirdest situations. I couldn't make this stuff up. So I wind up having lots and lots crazy adventures which make great stories to share with my friends. Writing about my life is so therapeutic. My ramblings range from funny to sad to angry (full of cuss words) to sweet. While my focus is dealing with the trials and tribulations of being a parent to my Daddy, I have lots of random, totally unrelated posts. Whatever's on my mind. I love to make people laugh, and I'm happy to think my readers will get my strange sense of humor. And maybe, people who are in my situation will be encouraged. That's all I can hope for...

Monday, February 6, 2012

Man of the House

Lately, I've been spending more time with The Daddler in the living room in the evenings.   He spends lots of time there, happily ensconced in his burgundy leather recliner.  I stretch out on the sofa, surrounded by books and magazines, pencil and paper, my Kindle Fire (for playing Words with Friends), and on Sundays, the newspaper.  I've finally become immune to the blaring volume of the TV.  Which probably means I'm going deaf, too.  So, it's quite companionable.

Every night, around 9:00, The D stands up, announces that he's going to bed, and heads down the hall to his Master Suite.  Appropriate.  Because he thinks he's the alpha dog 'round heeyah.  And I guess, on some level, he is. 

Well, Friday night, an hour or so after he hit the rack, on the front door there arose such a clatter, I jumped from the sofa and said "What's the matter?"  Sorry.  Couldn't resist.  Really, though, there was a loud banging on the door.  When I opened the inside door (thank goodness for storm doors), no one was there.  I pressed my face against the glass and saw a ghostly figure across the street looking back at me.  Complete with hoodie.  Think the Grim Reaper.  And there were five or six more GR's a few houses down.

For some reason, it didn't upset me.  Kids.  I thought about running out there and ripping them new ones.  Instead, I did what a rational person of my socioeconomic status would do.  I called the police - non-emergency number (545-COPS), and reported the incident.

I didn't think much more about it.  I did, however, mention to The Daddler.  So tonight, after the Super Bowl (great game - he picked the Giants to win), when he stood up to head to bed, he said he thought maybe he should stay up.  In case the hoodlums in hoodies came to call again.  I told him not to worry, because I had his .38.  He said he needed to get rid of it.  He'd seen my Angie Dickenson Police Woman impersonation.  He wasn't impressed.

Really, though, I just told him they couldn't get through the iron door.  And that seemed to appease him.  It was so sweet, though, to think he wanted to stand sentry for me.  I guess it was natural considering that he'd retired from the military police.  And then there's the job he'll never retire from. That, of course, is being my dad.

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