OK, I’m back!

Right. You can stop holding your breath now.

Henrietta is gone, buried and the thank you notes are done. Now, in my “what’s next” mode of mind, comes…. nothing.

This is really rather odd. There was always “something” next. The sense of freedom is at the same time titillating  and scary. I am giddy with lack of responsibility and ability to run, willy-nilly, hither and yon, doing whatever I want whenever the mood strikes me. (And a ride is available.)

I miss Henrietta, yet the sense of relief that I feel was magnified by the immense relief that she felt as she took her last breath.

The girls are having to take turns with me. They both are desirous of my attention. Every. Single. Day.

“Go with me there, Mommy!” and “Come with me here, Mommy!” is what I am hearing constantly. And no. I’m not doing all the buying.

There was a small argument over who got custody of me the other day and I was egging them on telling them how proud I would be if they got in a fight over me. Heh. It was cool. Somehow my past good parenting crap paid off and they found some sort of middle ground. I happily went with whoever and was handed off later in the day.

I am telling you, I am in demand and there is no bedpan involved.

It’s weird.

Now the scary part is, well, financial as much as anything else. I need to find a way to replace the money that was coming into the household via Henrietta’s annuity.

Remember, I don’t drive due to a visual handicap I acquired in a 1978 automobile accident/head injury. All my other people drive, yet have jobs and/or go to school. So they are going to be undependable as far as reliable transportation.

I am sloooowly turning my thoughts towards that foot massager and the line of men that H was convinced I had filing through here paying me money for… a foot massage? I wish I was half as successful as she made me out to be. đŸ˜‰

Meanwhile, in other parts of Gotham City…

My brother Cam, remember? The rock star? Yes, well he’s published, again. This time a British magazine named Web Designer has included his Periodic Table of Typefaces in their rather pricey pages. I have never paid $15.00 for a magazine before, much less bought three of them.

Yes, I really must love you, Cam… Anyway, congrats to you, bro!

I will get back soon and try really hard to catch up on my blog reading! Things are just starting to slow down around here!

Oh, and right before Henrietta passed I had announced a contest! It’s back on! Read these rules and let me hear from everyone! This is truly a wonderful pile of shit valuable cash and prizes I’m going to be giving away!

Guess what? I'm a… shady lady.

Saturday, John was at work and so were the girls. It was just Henrietta and me, here in the house. I had been doing laundry and had clothes and towels piled on the couch in various stages of… fold. heh

I walked back into H’s room to put some things away in order to make more room to fold more in the vicious cycle of laundry that never ends. H looked at me for a moment and said, “Is he gone?”.


She doesn’t hear what I’m saying enough to understand and replies, “Yes, I know!”.

I repeatedly scream “Who? Who? WHO?”, and she finally gets it.

“Oh Krissa”, very exasperated, “I know you have a man in there!”

I was horrified. Not to mention worried about her eyesight, you should have seen the hot mess that was me that day… How she thought I was in any condition to get a man near me much less “entertain” one, is beyond me.

I immediately whipped her chair around and propelled her into the living room and gestured to the couch.

“I am in here doing YOUR laundry! There are no men here!”

As expected, I got the customary eye roll and a sarcastic “Oh, yes, yes, yes…”.

I took her back to her room and left her there.

Then, yesterday, Monday to be exact, I went into her room for something or another and she was feverishly working the rosary beads when she said, “Is your customer gone? That was fast?”

I am not even kidding.

I sat down on the side of the bed and turned her head toward me, (for some reason she has always had a problem with eye contact), and asked her repeatedly what kind of business she thought I had.

I was, of course, getting no where. I then wheeled her back into the living room and parked her in the spot she used to like to be in when she used to be less like a hermit and actually spend time with the family. I asked her again what she thought I was doing in here with a “customer”.

“Ooooh, Krissa! You know! You get that machine and hook the men up to it and it puts them to sleep.”

And now I’m thinking, Really? And what? Have my way with them? Rob them? Dance around naked? (fat chance)

I asked her what machine and she gestured to the two large chairs in the room. “Oh, you know! It’s over behind there!”

I quickly wheeled her over there and showed her it was, in fact, not there at all. And then explained that she was talking about the foot massager and it belonged to Keelan and it was in her room.

We discussed this for a few minutes and she grew weary of the debate and just said “OK.”, kind of in a “Whatever”, manner.

I told her she was going to stay in here for a while and she could watch and see there was no one coming in the house. But, no. She insisted she had to get back in her room and say a rosary. One for me, no doubt, to change my wicked ways.

I hope it works. *sigh*