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danke gott
22/30 November 20, 2007

Nephew rolled his car over on the way home from school yesterday. He�s (physically) fine, except for some pain in his shoulder. The two kids with him are fine as well. The car and his confidence are totaled.

He called me last night, once he�d gotten home from being checked out at the hospital, and we talked for about 20 minutes. I think he needed his favorite aunt�someone who would no judge him and just be glad he was okay. As I said, his driving confidence is shot. He handed his mom his license and told her �here�I don�t need this anymore.� When I told him (oh, the cliche�s!) that he was going to need to get back on the horse, he got all choked and told me that he wouldn�t ever drive with anyone else in the car again, because �those were my two best friends with me, and I could have gotten them killed�.

He kept telling me that he was �doing everything right� and wondering �why me�. I reminded him that they are called accidents for a reason, and sometimes you are doing everything right, but shit happens anyway. To everyone. I told him that I, both my parents, all my brothers, and my husband had all been in motor vehicle accidents, and that his dad had been in a dilly of a wreck when he was not much older than Nephew himself. These things happen, and all we can do is be very grateful that nobody was seriously hurt, and go on from there.

Of course, it doesn�t help the poor kid that his dad is being a major dick about it, yelling about how it�s all Nephew�s fault�he must have been screwing around, all the money it�s going to cost, etc. I was able to let him know that he wasn�t the only kid to have to go through that, and I�d faced the same thing in my day (with my mom, not my dad, but still) and things would calm down eventually. Everyone�s emotions run high when stuff like this happens, including Nephew�s own, and he needed to give everyone some time to cool down.

I hope I said what he needed to hear. I take pride in being a good auntie, but it�s hard, sometimes, to know what that means. Do I back up his parents? Do I say things that make him feel better right now, but may not be the best advice in the long run? I don�t know. I just try to walk that thin middle line, and make sure he knows I love him.


New topic. EEK! There�s a Spouse in my house! Of course, he wasn�t able to get any sleep yesterday, so I came home to a grouchy old bear. Then, when he heard about Nephew, he was a worried, grouchy old bear. I fed him, commiserated over the no sleep situation, and silently resented the fuck out of him all evening. Then I sent him to bed after supper, to try and get some rest before he went to work. He slept for a couple of hours, I think. Better than nothing.

I just wish he�d realize that he�s getting too old to flip his schedule around like that. Especially considering that he�s never been a good sleeper.

And it seriously fucks over my web and game time, because he�s in there trying to sleep and can�t be disturbed.
Everyone and their dog seems to be blogging about the passing of actor Dick Wilson, more famously known as Charmin's "Mr. Whipple". So I�d just like to add that from the muddled blur of my childhood, a handful of advertising figures stand out clear and sharp.
Madge the Manicurist. Josephine the Plumber. Mrs. Olson. And, of course�Mr. Whipple.

I was always on his side. Those women were manhandling the merchandise, and he had a perfectly legitimate point. No self-control, but a good point.

Only Janie Withers is left now, out of that group.
Thinking about what I wrote above, I wondered why such adult themes as toilet paper, clogged drains, dishpan hands, and moderately priced coffee were what stuck in my head. Then I realized.

We were not allowed to watch Saturday morning television at our house. (We used to sneak it here and there, when mom was out of the way, though.) And when the TV-- the TV, as in: there was only one in the house--was on, it was unthinkable that the kids would get a say in what was watched. So I saw a lot more ads for Palmolive, Comet, Folger�s and Charmin than I did for Frosted Flakes, Barbie�s Dream House, Hot Wheels, or Cap�n Crunch. I don�t know if my mom�s strict rules made me a better person or not. I do know she must have been right about those commercials influencing vulnerable minds, because she always bought�you guessed it-- Palmolive, Comet, Folger�s and Charmin.

But deprivation has a backlash, and she also created in me a lifelong jones for that forbidden fruit.
When Schoolhouse Rock first came out on videotape, I bought the tapes, went home, took the phone off the hook, locked the doors, and watched each one of those cartoons, uninterrupted, and in their entirety.
I was jubilant.

I was in my thirties.




Reading: �Blind Side�, by Catherine Coulter.

Beading:Oh, go to hell.

Listening: Dean Martin, �Season�s Greetings�.

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