Nom de plume: Rivrdog

The long good-byes

I wouldn't wish my situation on my worst enemy.

In the past two weeks, the medical wallahs have decided that after she heals and rehabs from her bad ulcer, my wife is in too bad a shape to come home. Ever. She has to finish out her days in a nursing facility.

I have another family member almost into end-stage cancer.

Two "long good-byes" running at the same time. We warriors understand death. Deaths happen, it's part of life and war. This, to have the two in my family I've loved the most,  taking months more to die from incurable disease is VERY hard to take.

Today, I have family and and friends coming over to this big lonely house to begin the process of emptying it out so it can be sold. Seems straightforward enough, it's just logistics, right?

Everything that must be discarded or sold has some history, some significance to me and the almost-departed ones. It's like ripping out a small piece of me with every kitchen gew-gaw I toss out. I can remember when my dear wife WORE these clothes I'm putting aside to donate, and she WAS a clothes-horse, so there is a lot of clothing. Shoes, I can't imagine having that many shoes.

A man might get by with five or six pairs, a dozen, tops, but a woman feels under-dressed if she can't select from fifty or sixty pair.

To make matters worse, my wife has a wasting disease, has had it for 25 years. She has slowly shrunken from a Size 12 down to now a Size TWO! I guess this disease led her to some anguish, because she never threw out many of the oversize clothes, and there are three walk-in closets full of them. Formal dresses for evening. We used to do a lot of that. She was a big wheel in the Officers' Wives Club at my last permanent station, KI Sawyer AFB, MI. The base closed out 25 years ago, and now she is closing out her life.

This wouldn't be so bad if I could just call some service to do it all for me, but I can't afford that, since I will probably have to pay for her nursing home life, and around here, that will be north of $6K/month.

Selling the house and spending down the proceeds will get me by for about 40 months.

I guess my dreams of moving somewhere warm and living in a villa with servants will have to wait for MY next life, but in the meanwhile, I have to take time to say another good-bye to one of my children who isn't going to out-live me now.

WTH, if Life was (a) fair, some barker would be selling tickets to see it, but it isn't fair, and now I have to see this through by myself.

I'll manage. Facebook helps with that, except they just put me in "Jail" because I used a common Spanish slang expression to describe two ugly male cross-dressers...

UPDATE: 041420 2334 PDT:

 My wife of 43 years, Blanche, passed across the Rainbow Bridge on March 30th.

New Year's gift for her

Here. Unless she's a Witch, you won't be drinking cooled beverages from it, though....

Christmas Curmudgeon

It's trying to White Christmas all over Schloss Rivrdog...not sticking much, but that rates a BAH, HUMBUG!

Da poor gudwife can hardly wrap presents anymore, but God Help Her, she keeps at it and will get it done. I was fired from this job 39 years ago...

Okay, then, I have to lay a Bbilical joke on you, NOT POLITICALLY CORRECT, so jump the fold...

Agents of F.E.T.I.S.H.

Not a new comic book or TV series based on one, it's happening now:

Since perusing the newsworthy Facebook pages for the nonce, it occured to me that the Federal Bureau of Investigation may have been misnamed, and needs an immediate name change more in line with it's current (e)missions.

I propose that Agency be renamed F.E.T.I.S.H.

Federal Exterminators of Truthful Investigation Supporting Hillary.

Okay, it's kinda long for an agency name, but the acronym sticks the landing, eh?

Now, we also need to rename the class of citizens who support FETISH and their work.

I propose that these citizens forever more be referred to as:

D.I.A.P.E.R.(s) - Developmentally Interrupted Americans Pooping Everywhere Reachable. Of course, their lapel symbol is the DIAPER PIN (Personal Identification for Non-continents). Those pins are sometimes known as Safety Pins, but are completed with a jolly little pink or blue plastic head:

https://www.ebay.com/i/142037857426?chn=ps

By now, you can see where this clarification of our society is leading, can't you?

To tie this all together, it turns out that we TRADs (Traditionally Responsible American Defenders) are not trained to handle DIAPERs or their protectors, the FETISH.

We will need some more education. I haven't found that yet. I'm still looking. Maybe this will help:

From a respected progressive news source, we get this support for DIAPERs, and FETISH: https://tinyurl.com/y9e7ldu9

That about wraps up this episode of WAH! (Whacky American History)

My third career...

...after the first two, 22 years in the military and 25 fighting crime on the mean streets. Excuse the typesetting, I know it sucks (the new O/S).

I just figured out my third career: I will be Second Banana (straight-man) to various feline jokers. First, my cat never ties of trying to cadge me out of an extra meal after the gudwife feeds him and he has gobbled it down in the best Large Orange Cat tradition. He begs by his empty dish and I am tempted just to scoop up some kibble, but I usually ask the missus, whose usual reply is "Fed him two hours ago".

 

Second, my sweet old neighbor lady's cat, an indoor & outdoor cat. I have my parka on in the rain, doing the weekly garbage cart fill and positioning at the end of my driveway. This poor beast comes up to me, all wet, and begs me to let him in MY house to find some dry and warmth. I finish with the carts and trudge over to the neighbor's and ring her doorbell. On the way over there, the cat races ahead of me and hops up on the park bench on her well-sheltered stoop (we both have these benches for stoop-sitting). I observe numerous paw prints on the faded pain of the bench. When neighbor opens up, she says that she just let the cat out! She tries to get the cat into the house, but it moves a few feet away and snubs both of our offers for it's dry and warm shelter.

 

On my way next to the mailbox, it hits me: both of these cats know that I can be played for a chump. I think I will try to find an agent to rep me to the greater cat-world...

 

Hump Day Humor

Nothing like a little Catholic humor to start the day. Cribbed from Facebook, only attributable to "Susan":

On their way to get married, a young Catholic couple is involved in a fatal car accident. They find themselves sitting outside the Pearly Gates, waiting for St. Peter to process them into Heaven.
While waiting, they begin to wonder: Could they possibly get married in Heaven?
When St. Peter shows up, they ask him.
St. Peter says, "I don't know. This is the first time anyone has asked that. Let me go and find out."...and he leaves.
The couple sit and wait, and wait. Two months pass and the
couple is still waiting. As they wait, they discuss that if they were allowed to get married in Heaven, what was the eternal aspect of it all. "What if it doesn't work?" they wondered. "Are we stuck together forever?"
After yet another month, St. Peter finally returns, looking somewhat bedraggled "Yes," he informs the couple, "You can get married in Heaven."
"Great!" says the couple, "But we were just wondering, what if things don't work out? Can we also get a divorce in Heaven?"
St. Peter, red-faced with anger, slams his clipboard onto the
ground!! "What's wrong?" asks the frightened couple.
"OH, COME ON!" St. Peter shouts, "It took me three months to find a priest up here! Do you have any idea how long it'll take me to find a lawyer?

That's all, folks!

Wednesday WTF humor

A Doctor

A well respected doctor had sex with one of his female patients and
felt guilty all day long. No matter how much he tried to forget about
it, he just couldn't. The guilt and sense of betrayal of his patient
was overwhelming.

But every once in a while he'd hear an internal, reassuring voice in
his head that said: "Don't worry about it. You aren't the first
medical practitioner to have sex with one of his patients and you
won't be the last. And you're single. Just let it go."

But, invariably, another voice in his head would bring him back to
reality, whispering: "You're a veterinarian, you sick bastard."

H/T to the Coyote Kid, way out in SD....

Mother's Day, 2017

Yes, I know, another "Hallmark Holiday"? Not exactly. Read the Wiki. It seems that President Woodrow Wilson started Mother's Day about the time he initially refused to enter WW One.

The holiday HAS been hijacked by commercial entities, and the hijacking gets worse all the time. Just this week, in the Mother's Day run-up, I noted that the price of Bacon had jumped 30%. Curious, I found out that this has to do with the Chinese, who had been bearish on our meat for a while, but, likely because of the schmoozing of President Trump, had agreed to start importing OUR BACON again. Supply & Demand says not enough to go around, there will be price rises.

So, on this Mother's Day, 2017, I am bearish on President Trump, because, BACON!

My Mom is dead, may her Soul Rest in Peace, and my daughter is entertaining her Mom today, and I'm not part of that, so I will have some Bacon for lunch by myself, thank you.

Tax Day 2017 - I'm with Trump

...and you don't get to see my returns.

Heheheheheh!

Birdcage liner

No not the whole newspaper today, just the Food Day Section. It's once a week here with the Oregonian, I usually peruse it, even adding the occasional recipe to my kitchen computer.

 

Not today. The theme of the week is "Meatless Cooking".

G.M.A.F.B.

Bottom line for MY kitchen is that I either cook meat dishes or I prepare fruits and vegetables for consumption in the raw state.

If you choose to be a vegetarian, you REALLY have to work at it to keep that religion from destroying your health.