Baboon Pirates

Scribbles and Scrawls from an unrepentant swashbuckling primate.

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Location: Texas, United States

Monday, May 14, 2007

Sammy & Grammy Pull A Whammy

I'm Getting Too Old For This $h!t...

Holy Toledo, but I'm tired.

It's physically draining to be talked at for 4 1/2 hours. Not talked to, not talked with, but talked at.

Lemme 'splain...

My nephew Sammy got banished from daycare. Like Borat said "Watch that one, he bites!" So, until the end of May my sister needed some emergency child care.

Grammy to the rescue! Dad puts Mom on the Greyhound, ships her off towards Austin. She'll be there until the end of May. I wasn't there to witness it, but Dad was likely doing his best to hide his smile. Now he can sit in his recliner & eat ice cream and watch home repair shows all damn day without having to dodge the "Honey Do" list.

This to-do affects me not at all, I'm thinking, until Dad calls me at work on Friday and asks what time I'll be available Sunday to go out to my sister's place.

"Say what???" I'd planned on tucking a nice Mother's Day card in the mailbox and snoozing all day Sunday.

Nope, no sleep for me. Dad needs my truck to haul a load of crap out there.

Well, damn. Spit. Garbage. Dirty Drawers.

"OK, Pop, but it's your gas, and you're driving the first leg. I'm gonna nap and try to keep my innards from exiting."

I'd ended up spending most of Friday & Saturday dancing with the Tijuana Trotting Bug, and I felt like a wrung-out sponge.

And so, we departed at some ungodly hour of the morning in order to arrive before 10 am. That way, we could take out Mom & my sister to brunch, and get an early start back to Houston.

Ha. As if.

We arrived to the sight of my brother-in-law mowing the yard, and he's just getting started. Within 5 minutes of entering, Sis knocks over my Super Gonzo Gulp of soda all over the floor, and things go downhill from there. No brunch reservations have been made, BIL is ignoring us in favor of the yard, and Sammy's fussing up a storm.

And all my liquor's back at the house. Sigh. I picked a fine decade to quit smoking dope.

We don't get out of there headed to an eatery until 4 pm, and we're not on the road back to Houston until after 6. Dad has talked my ear off for 4 1/2 solid hours, 'cause with Dad, there's no getting a word in edgewise when he's on a roll. He finally nods off (I'm driving back, btw) around Schulenberg, and blessed silence reigns for the rest of the ride.

I meant to post something this morning, but I've been in Zombie mode all day.

Further trips down that same piece of road in 2 weeks for a BBQ party, in 4 weeks for a family reunion, in 8 weeks +- a few days for Sis's second hatchling eruption. I'm gonna be wearing a groove in that stretch of highway...