I haven’t blogged for a few days partly because I am getting my MIL settled in (she’s been here coming on two weeks), Steven hung out with us for a few days and I’m supposed to be writing a book and not fucking around with this dumb blog that no one reads.

Except my neighbor, Crystal. Hi Crystal! And Dad. Hi Dad!

Having a tell-all blog is very useful at neighborhood gatherings like on Labor Day when I showed up with a gorgeous man who is not my husband and everyone immediately knew what the story was.

Dream Lover spent the weekend over Labor Day so he could hike up to Diamond Lake with Nina, myself and the $10 dress.

Here are photos from that lovely day.

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The rest of my life is decidedly more pedestrian.

For instance, what is wrong with these pictures?

Shouldn’t the tank of the toilet be on the base? DING DING DING!

While cleaning my unit (heheh) I noticed that water was leaking from the tank. Loony took a look at it and saw that that pressurized tank inside the porcelain case was leaking so he did a a quickie Google search and … wait for it …. that toilet has been recalled because people have been injured by flying porcelain shrapnel.

We had someone showing up that day and it’s going to take six days for the replacement tank to arrive so the only thing to do was to replace the malfunctioning tank in the rental with the non-malfunctioning tank from our bathroom (so it would be safe) while leaving ours disassembled.

My Other Asian Daughter messages me in the mornings because she’s traveling in Vietnam and it’s the best time for us to connect. She likes to tell me about her culinary exploits and I send her pictures of back home.

She was bumming out about missing her friends so I sent her this.

The toilet is a metaphor for my life right now, if you leave out the implied negativity that comes with toilet metaphors. My sweet MIL is settling in and it’s taking time for everyone to adjust and adapt.

The poor thing has no short-term memory whatsoever.

The other day I asked her to find her driver’s license – which she ultimately did – but she forgot that she found it and was in an agitated state all day. I’d catch her emptying out her purse over and over again and I’d have to gently remind her that she’d already given it to me and try to distract her.

I see the confusion on her face and maybe embarrassment. I don’t want her to feel that way yet I don’t know what I can do. I just try to keep my tone light and never sound frustrated with her. It’s not her fault she can’t remember anything and she has been nothing but the kindest and most generous person to me from day one. I’m happy to be of service to her but it’s hard. It can be both things can’t it?

Each day is the same, I set out her breakfast and pills with coffee and OJ, then she hangs out on the shaded porch with magazines and books. I serve her lunch around noon and then prepare a family dinner every night because going out seems like a lot more work. I make sure she takes her evening pills and then Loony takes over by watching something on PBS with her.

This part I can handle. She is sweet and undemanding and very grateful. What’s hard for me is this feeling that I must be accountable for every moment of the day. The second I walk in the door she wants to know where I’ve been. If I put a sweater on she wants to know if I’m heading out and where to. She always wants to know “what the plan for today is” which sets me on edge because even though she doesn’t mean it that way, I feel like I should have some kind of wonderful plan but I don’t.

But I’m guessing what she really wants to know is what day is it. Does she need to prepare for anything. Her world is very small right now and she just wants news from the outside. Loony is working on finding a bridge club for her and some activities at the senior center.

I’ve been meditating every day and I set my intention for the day on being a kind, gentle and loving communicator. It helps me get through the day but I’ll admit to being completely done once dinner is over.

Tonight is Heritage Night at Scratchy’s school which is usually a really fun event where we mill around a packed playground with 400 other families and scavenge the potluck while the kids run amok.

But this time, with my MIL, the thought of the logistics to make this possible for her exhausts me.

One of us will have to drive her the four blocks and take the car home because there is nowhere to park while the other sets up a table and chair for her and gets food and then sits with her until the other one comes back, meanwhile making introductions which is terrifying for me because I can’t remember anyone’s name even though I’ve been at Whittier for six years. When it’s over one of us will walk home to get the car to bring her back. It’s not a huge deal but things have gotten more complex around here.

It’s kind of too bad that my kids aren’t younger, I know that she would really enjoy having them come home and want to sit on her lap and read books. With a middle schooler and a 4th grader with a very active social life, she doesn’t see much of them. None of us do.

The good news is that fall is here and my pottery class has started up again.

I’ve already reverted back to my “artistic” style of wearing the same clay covered outfit every day because why bother clean up? I’m only going to get filthy again. But being in class with the familiar faces, where I am good at what I do, where I can work without being questioned … it’s sublime.

And homegirl in class who is really tall and has GIGANTIC tits let me motorboat the shit out of them this morning as means of a hello. I was all don’t mind us when the instructor looked at me sideways.

It’s good to be home.

Speaking of home, the pets are keeping me happy. I don’t know what I would do without my menagerie.

My Parasitic Twin got another dog because she is obsessed with me and wants to be as cool as me.

While she doesn’t have the biggest dog and the smallest dog, her pair certainly make an, um, interesting couple.

In more exciting news, one of my pole dancing goddess friends gets tons of unsolicited dick-pics (as if there is such thing as a solicited dick-pick from a female) and she started a secret text group where she’s sharing the photos with her friends so we can laugh at men’s penises. She added me because no one sends me d-pics but I want to be cool, too!

That’s all the totally normal stuff that’s happening with me. You?