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The fun, the frustrating and the unbelievable-- Living in the Nation's Capitol |
| The story of relocation, transition and assorted moments of self deprecating reality... |
| January 18, 2022- On this date, I finished Betrayal, by Jonathon Karl. This audio book, read at a normal speed was 632 minutes in length. During the course of this audible book, I rode 172 miles. Thank you Mr. Karl, for your contribution to my health and well-being; a great read. |
| It was inevitable, Cheryl was tossed from the "transitional house" for violating the house rules. My sister doesn't like when I refer to the sobriety center as a halfway house. Halfway to what, I wonder? Cheryl is an addict, serving out terms of the state’s judicial court ordered probation. This was the court's solution to possession of a controlled substance with intent to transport and distribute. She previously dabbled with weed, coke, crack and meth, but most recently transitioned to the BIG H, heroine. She got intense probation and has a suspended sentence hanging over her head. The rules are simple, don't cross them and the state will provide you with a place to live for 60 days. After your first two months of proven dedication to counseling, AA and a drug-free life, one can continue to reside in the transitional house for up to six months, at $175 per week. But there are rules: no drinking, no visitors, go to counseling, get a job (or at least try...) and pass the occasional urine analysis (UA) test ON DEMAND; easy-peasy, right? "Keep your probation officer happy," Cheryl was told often. So you wonder, what did she do to get tossed? Violation number one amounted to acquiring minis, an assortment of miniature bottles of liquor from an elderly wheelchair bound gentleman living in my mother's senior complex. Yes, you heard right. My 50 year old sister dabbled in debauchery with my mother's eighty-eight year old wheel-chair confined neighbor. Mom says, "He was probably just looking for a friend." "And he picked Cheryl," I questioned? "How bad can this be," I thought? At least it was not crack, crank or meth. That's not so bad, strike one. Alcoholics stumble, a couple minis, a couple shooters brought into a drug free sobriety house cant be a deal breaker, not on a first occurrence, right? Roll the clock forward twelve hours. The family Christmas party just wrapped. However, Cheryl was prohibited from attending because the halfway house "mom" penalized Cheryl with house-arrest for violating sobriety house rules. Cheryl brought alcohol into the drug-free environment. Her children were pissed off, but not shocked. Cheryl's history predicts a bleak future. After fourteen attempts at sobriety though countless rehab centers in numerous states over the past 18 years, falling off the proverbial wagon is quite predictable. Her train derailment is expected. It's not if, but when. So back to the Christmas party. Her children wanted to see their mother and expected her to attend. Bringing the family together is a challenge. Cheryl's youngest daughter, Teresa lives in a car in north Baltimore. Teresa's son, (Cheryl's grandson) lives in the adjacent apartment with the father's mother. The parents rotate, alternating nightly between the car and couch of a tiny efficiency apartment. The second youngest daughter, Kathy now lives with the father of her second child (not counting the abortion). It is true that he faces a court ordered prohibition from being in proximity to Kathy, they seem to have worked things out. He may have beaten the crap out of her a few times in the past, well... enough to generate court ordered oversight. Nonetheless, they still live together, in defiance of a court mandate and ankle bracelet. He is trouble, his abused wife, Kathy (like her mother) is an alcoholic. Cheryl's third child, the youngest, a son, Jim was also at the Christmas party. He lives with his father, Cheryl's ex-husband Donnie. Jim is learning how to extort from the state's department of social services by way of false worker injury claims, unemployment benefits and frivolous lawsuits brought against the unsuspectingly innocent and naive. The children were anxious to see their mother, Cheryl. After all, they thought she was going to attend the party. They all traveled hours to attend. After the party, they visited Cheryl at the halfway house. They hoped to deliver and open Christmas gifts, hug, pray and reminisce, on the sidewalk, near the street, out of doors. Halfway house rules prohibit visitors. The next scene is sketchy. The story goes that one of Cheryl's daughters had to use the bathroom, so Cheryl let her enter the halfway house. According to Cheryl, the house mom had it in for her and never liked her. Letting Teresa use the restroom was a solid violation of halfway house rules, and enough to get Cheryl tossed; two broken rules in 3 days. So the Christmas party on the sidewalk at the halfway house led to a rule violation and Cheryl's eviction. Her homeless daughter had to urinate. How long before Cheryl blames the eviction on her daughter, I wondered. The next day, Cheryl moved in with her alcoholic boyfriend (of 3 weeks), Guthry. The gentlemen does not drive and resides in his parent's basement; he is 55 years old. He is currently "in between jobs." Yesterday, Guthry proposed to my sister, Cheryl. The announcement was made on Facebook. "What can go wrong," I wonder? |
| January 16, 2022- Gainesville, VA. Today I realized that cardinals tend to travel in small groups and have no problem with snow. As we receive our 4-6 inches of white stuff in 20 degree weather, I sit in my cozy leather chair in front of our warm fireplace, watching cardinals come and go. My blood pressure remains low; I am at peace. |
| Queen Anne MD. November 27, 2021 We were preparing Thanksgiving dinner, and my sister's cat decided that she would not be excluded from the feast. Sweet little Felix proudly displayed his catch, a large field mouse. The plump mouse twitched and let out mouse shrieks as Felix shook the life out of the little guy. He'd shake and slam the critter to the ground. It the mouse moved, rest and repeat. One minute, prancing across the field minding his own business. The next, being eaten alive. Felix ripped the mouse open, exposing the innards. We watched in horror through the patio doors. Felix seemed to have a process, picking one bloody organ over another, meticulously ripping the mouse to shreds, chewing and swallowing one mouse piece after another until all that was left was a small pool of mice debris. It was a bloodbath. My appetite was gone, along with all thoughts of ever acquiring a cat. Here kitty... kitty. |
| December 24, 2021- Heritage Hunt VA I was nine miles into a fifteen-mile ride when the trouble began. An overdressed, fully made-up senior, Betty, started making the rounds in the Heritage Hunt gym. With no appreciation for social distancing and covid abatement, she approached my stationary bike. “Can you hear me,” she bellowed? She was put off by the buds in my ears. While sweating profusely, and huffing I politely pointed at my ears as if to say, I cannot hear you- please go away. She was relentless, shouting louder “I’m sorry, can you hear me?” I removed the ear buds and gave her that look you use when someone runs over your heel with a shopping cart. “Do you own a white Subaru?, she asked” “No, why," with disdain.? “There’s a white Subaru in the parking lot with the door open,” she said. Who gives a shit, I think? She moved on to the next person, this time she interrupted someone on the rowing machine. “Do you own a white Subaru?” Unfazed by the non-verbal condemnation and glares, she pressed on. One by one, Betty questioned the three stationary joggers. Because of covid precautions, only every other treadmill was operational. This pandemic safeguard enabled Betty to stand on the non-running treadmill platform looking each jogger in the eyes. “Do you own a white Subaru?” After interrupting every single person in the gym, Betty left to take the matter up with the Association. She did eventually return to the gym, satisfied that the matter of the white Subaru was resolved. Betty began her walk on the treadmill. With my ride complete, I had a few questions for Betty. I stood on the treadmill adjacent to her and said, “I’m sorry, can you hear me?” Betty continued walking while staring at me. “I’m wondering, do you think it is hot in here? It feels hot to me. Do you feel it? Are you hot? Do you want me to open a couple windows? What do you think? Is there someone we can call," I pressed? Finally relenting, Betty paused her workout to give me the undivided attention I sarcastically sought. She explained that it is often hot in here and she’d take it up with Association management during the next community meeting. Betty was not even phased by my futile attempt to annoy and mock her, because it is was seniors do. |
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