06-19-05 - 9:15 a.m.
a week into year 52; gallbladder surgery for berries by a doogie howzer type who emerged from the o.r. with photos of my child's internal organs. for the family album? or a possible malpractice suit, because she can't keep anything down?
the rumble doll has taken flight, crawling to investigate every electrical outlet in the house. we did a safety sweep, as they call it at walmart, plugging the outlets and euthanizing the ancient tyrant of a chihauhua, whose title of 'meanest dog on the planet' did not exclude small babies and the vet who put him to sleep. this act of mercy, after 8 years, enraged my older child, who is busy self-medicating with drugs and alcohol and pot, but not too busy to eviscerate me once again with a single judgemental email to her sister. call me evil, but the welfare of my granddaughter supercedes an aging pet who wants to kill every guest who comes to my house.
then there's carey, who drifts in and out of my life in a strange, platonic fog. he admitted this week, after several beers, that the sum of his female experience, as of age 56, is two ex-wives and wendy. which may be sweet and old-fashioned, as berries put it, but explains alot about his chronic look of befuddlement around me. last night he told me i was 90% funny and 10% sarcasm.
like that's a bad thing?