Hale-frigging-luja!

Bugs just called me. Someone she works with saw Daddy at a party last night. He was told that Daddy had a 'revelation' while in jail. He was apparently talking with his Dad (the self made preacher man), they touched hands on the glass partitian and this enormous power came over him, and all of a sudden...blah blah blah....
So he is supposed to be sober, going to church and praying every second of the day.

No mention if Jezus also squeezed some clouds to drop the few thousand dollars in his bank account he owes Bugs.

Do I sound caustic? You betcha! (to quote my favorite governor)

I do not believe in this jail conversion crap. I think it's the biggest copout of all times.
Jezus is probably cringing up thar on that cloud.

Good thing I am not going to court with her tomorrow. It could get messy with mad Oma.
It would be embarrassing.

~~~~~~~~

On another note, and a much more pleasant one.....

I was dawdling around Wal Mart yesterday, waiting for Wheelie's meds to be ready when my cell phone rang.
Now, my phone rings so rarely that I not always understand where that funny sound comes from. So it takes me a few second to realize that no, I am not listening to the store's muzak, it's my bloody purse!

It was my ex, Puri. His periodical phonecall to chat about this 'n that.
So I found myself a quiet spot in the shoe department, and found me a bench to sit on.

He told me he just came back home from visiting his mother, who lives in a nursing home somewhere in Northern Washington. She is 91, lives on caffeine, sweets and ciggies.
His half sister and half brother live in that vicinity as well, so it was a little reunion of sorts.

His sister showed him a diary that she found among Mom's things when she cleared out the house.
It was a diary from Mom's mother, his grandma he didn't know, or never heard about or from. Written during the three or some years she spent in a TB sanitorium.
He was so touched to read her words, which explained such loneliness, such pain, such longing for her children en husband. He said it was extremely touching. All I could say was: Wow, what an incredible gift!
Apparently in those days one could not visit a patient with TB, and from the sound of it she had not seen her husband in two years at one point. All they had to go on was written communication. Her birthdays did not include flowers, or cake, or cards. Although there was a note that Mom (a little girl then of course) would wear her best red dress in her honor.

The hospital must have been in the middle of nowhere. And this was in the early 1920s too, not even so long ago. Amazing.

Puri never knew his dad. He was the product of a short affair with a married man. He never knew him, met him.
His mother changed his last name to what he is known by today, even though his birthcertificate shows her maiden name as his. A fact that has given him quite a bit of problems with the government. Born in Canada, but he joined the army in the USA.

Anyway, that's another book. :>)

I always ask about his Mom, because she was/is such an unusual woman. At one point she was a ballerina, and a concert pianist (she says) Who cares if it's true or not. To me she always had an air of Garbo about her. Very pseudo aristocratic. A strange lady, but very interesting.
The first time I met her was in 1968 Thanksgiving. We drove down to Riverside CA in Puri's TR-4 (Racing Green, wooden dashboard, convertible!!)
I was still rather green around the gills, and I had no idea what Thanksgiving was or was supposed to be. The food didn't turn me on. Turkey? Blech!
Mom was into her version of health food (as was Puri) and I remember trying to chew (and chew and chew) on some sort of nut bread she made. It tasted awful.

On our way back, the car broke down on highway one near Big Sur. It was late, it was dark. We stopped at a gas station, no one answered the door.
We pulled up under a light and fixed the broken hose by using the wrapper of his tool kit and tie it off with the shoelaces of my sneakers (that was MY idea! hehe) We made it safely to Monterrey, where we were lucky enough to find a guy who fixed it for real.

So here I was. In my least favorite store of all time, the Cartersville Wal Mart (where it's rather entertaining to people-watch. That is if you like watching the creme de la creme in sweat shirts and spandex shorts and flip flops, stringy gray hair and fat, unshaven fellows without teeth, barefoot toddlers with dirty faces)
sitting in the shoe department, talking to my esoteric once-a-husband/always-a-friend about his long lost grand mother, who died in a sanitarium.

A rather surreal experience.

I decided to stroll around a little longer after the call, still trying to find that perfect little babydoll for Boo, just smiling to myself.

Isn't it weird....how you end up in a place you never dreamed you would?

SGMKJ!