Theme Parks and Bozos

I have spent the largest part of my day chasing down theme park executives. Bozos, all them. No sense of fun or humor whatsoever. How the heck did they get into that business?

Ah well, the joys of the job.

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Got into argument No. 3 with daughter today. Asked if she was going out to look for a job today. Apparently that question is akin to "Are you planning to give away your first born?" Not that she has kids. Thank God.

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My dad made his second trip in an ambulance today to the hospital. Yesterday they sent him home. My mom had found him passed out in his room (yes, they have separate rooms -- don't ask, don't tell) . Today, he fell again. Damn.

I feel guilty for so many reasons. I feel as if I should be there in Texas to help with the taxing drives to and from the doctor, to and from the hospital. Then I get angry. When I moved there a few years ago to provide that kind of help, my mother created her usual "C is an evil woman" scene and proceeded to not talk to me, and still have my siblings still don't talk to me. My crime? Telling my sister that her daughter had confided in my mother that her stepdad (sis' husband) was getting a little too friendly. I had talked with teen girl about it, she confirmed it. So, I told sis. Some how through that, I became the bad guy. Teen girl, now an adult with tremendous issues, got scared and denied it. Stepdad came out smelling like a rose, and my mom denied any involvement, and was so "hurt" that I would throw something -- a lie -- like that at the family. So, for the year and a half I lived near them, they didn't talk to me. This was a small town mind you. My dad never stepped in to intervene. So, sometimes I'm still angry. The only good thing that came out of that, is that I know my sis though she denied any wrongdoing on her husband's part managed to never again leave the daughter in a situation alone with stepdad. So if I helped a little, I don't regret my actions. My only regret is that I didn't call the cops before I said anything to sis. So there, it's out.

Today, my older sister called. The one who remembers the abuse we took at my mother's hand before she found Jesus. She would beat us with whatever she had in her hand at the time, or find something to beat us with for just horrific infractions as going out in the back yard without asking her permission. On the outside, we were the perfect family. Behind that closed door, it was hell. Well, let's not forget this church-going woman was there every time the doors opened. But she didn't really change until much later. She's worried that my dad is probably going to die soon. She's right. But our biggest concern? Is who's taking care of mom? And, that is the tough part.

I think I need to go to church tonight. But I'm already sitting here drinking a beer. So I'll vent. I'm actually alone in the house right now, which is a rarity. I sort of like that. It's amazing how quickly you get used to living alone (well, just the two of us) -- yes, parents, there is life after kids.

But, sometimes your parents become your kids...