Friday, June 14, 2024

Friday Ramble: Shut Up And Take The Win

The recent passing of my father is slowly becoming an established reality around here.  It’s tough for me, when people leave and there’s that hole in your life to get used to. Dads, dawgs n’ daughters hurt the most. It takes a while to get used to that empty space. There are days I feel like I could just hop on the bike and go visit… or call him up on the phone. 

Mom’s gone bonkers but for her it was a very short trip. I avoid her if I can. I walked by the other day with the Niglet and dropped in to make sure the old bitch was still alive and it went surprisingly well. Nevertheless I kept the visit short. She played with the pup, I had a quick cup of coffee and then we left. We had miles to make (which was true) and it’s always good to get out while the gettin’s good. 

Mom is like a bowl a chocolates
a carton of rotten eggs…


So earlier in the week I’m goofing off when I should be going all out on chores, and I get sandbagged by that awful karmic wheel of justice that God built for FOWGs. It never fails!  You’ll be stealing a beautiful morn at the range, or catching a quick, restful nap in the garage or potting shed when you should be working - and something awful will happen. The dawg starts retching and vomiting on the carpet. Or a nasty unexpected bill shows up in the mail. Or you get a text from your mom. I don’t get it - ya watch on the news and there’s millionaires and billionaires committing mass murder and molesting children and flipping off the nations they’re supposed to lead…and it’s no problem! They do it with impunity! But if I play a little hookey…instant, devastating punishMINT. Every. Single. Time.

So mom orders me to come by. I know it’s gonna be stupid, whatever it is. So I hop on the bike and go over to take my lumps. She invites me in pours me a decaff… and then she goes to work on me: I need to grow up and sell my bike before it kills me. I gotta act my age. The stereo on my bike is stupid and loud. I’m too fat and picking up weight. I don’t pull my weight in the family and don’t come around enough. I’m not training the Niglet properly. Ten minutes later she’s on politics…Did I turn in all my awful guns to comply with Justin Turdo’s gun bans? I lied at her and then she’s busting my chops for being a dirty rotten liar…and then she gets political… so I interrupt as nicely as I can and ask her what she needs done. I end up moving some heavy statuary around in her garden. When I’m done she goes to work on me again but I’ve had enough. I say the dawg is at home and needs to be let out to pee…so I’d better get moving…

And Mom gets quiet and pissy… and hands me a cheque for $25,000.00. Apparently Pop had a small life insurance policy and she was giving me a cut. As a gift. I try to tell her it’s too much, the family doesn’t owe me a thing but that just makes for more insults so I fold it up, put it in my pocket and left. I get home, put it on the kitchen table, forget about it and go do chores. I finish up and come in…and I see that cheque on the table. I go downstairs to clean guns. The Reclusium is in shambles and needs a cleaning…

The next day I get up and look at it as I eat my breakfast. I go outside and drop the oils on the bike and the mower and give them a good cleaning. I come in at lunch and the cheque sits there, so afterward I go out and start sweeping out the garden shed. Afternoon coffee roles around, and I see the cheque…and I take the Niglet out for a walk. Mr. Hal E. Tosis around the corner has a new pup we had to meet…

Each time I look at that cheque on the table, I just see that big gaping hole Pop left. I don’t understand it, but there it is. How the two things are related is beyond me. Depositing that money in the bank will be an act of finality of some kind and I’ve just been putting it off and procrastinating for a week now. Poor mom…it must have killed her to write that cheque, HAR HAR HAR! She’ll be going bonkers soon if she doesn’t see that money go out of her account and I will be in shit again. She sticks in my craw with this too. I HATE taking money from her. She has more money than God but she expects her money’s worth, if ya catch my drift. As far as she goes… she owes me money! If I added up all the bitching, shit and abuse…GAH! Oh well, I probly deserved it all and I learned a lot from it … so maybe I’ll call that a wash and be done with it. 

Today, I am resolved. I’m going to get off my arse, go down to the bank and deposit it. I’m going to spend it too. I’m going to do some much needed home reno stuff. The veranda looks like hell, I’d like a deck out back… maybe I’ll get a dishwasher again? Spending money is something I have to force myself to do; I am a saver by nature. 

I’m going to say a quick prayer for Pop.

I’m strongly tempted to let my Maker know that his cosmic karmic FOWG wheel is broken… but… is it? Ya never know with that Guy… or at least, I don’t.

Have a great Friday.



  1. Don't forget to treat yourself with an fine bottle of hooch and a Cohiba for those rainy days!

    Chutes Magoo

  2. Hey, Glen, I don't think your Dad would mind a visit to his grave and 'sharing your thoughts'. At first it made me sad, but as time went on (passed in July '97), it became much more. He passed suddenly from a heart attack and I didn't get to tell him how much I really appreciated him. I like to think he is listening and appreciating the time I am spending talking to a headstone.

  3. My over-the-moon Leftie mom tried to push her crap on me in the past as well. I didn't rise to the bait. She kept doing it. I told her to please stop. She kept doing it. I finally called her a nag. Then she got mad at me for calling her a nag. I told her that some people just can't take a hint, or even a polite request. For them, flinging a piano at them with a Trebuchet is the only recourse. It took a long time for her to get over that one, but she did. We still talk, and she doesn't push her self-described "quasi-Socialist" views on me anymore. If it jams, FORCE IT. If it breaks, it needed replacing anyway... I get it; respect for your parents, and all. It only goes so far though. If my mom can't see that I'm a 63-year-old MAN, with my own beliefs and values, then the problem lies wit HER; not me.

    Spend the money, Glen. Our downstream will surely be spending ours... if "They" don't get it first...

  4. Your dad wanted you to have it, that's what's important, Mom having to write the check is just icing on the cake. In case you forgot, you're still unemployed. You've had more than your fair share of abuse (a nod to the Rolling Stones, You can't always get what you want).
    They say ya can't buy happiness, but I've determined, you can rent it. Another bolt rifle, a dream one, would hardly put a dimple in that money. You're a thoughtful man, you'll think of something.
    Go forth, have fun, banish, renounce guilt, bring your wonderful wife.

  5. It was a gift from your dad, Glen. Think of this as an acknowledgment, grudging though it may be, from your mother that he would have wanted this to be shared with you because he valued you and your, to her mad mind, cussedness. And, wink, a down prepayment to you for taking care of your mother in his absence. The Lord works in mysterious, and sometimes ironic, ways. Kiss it up to God, Glen.


  6. Twenty five large? It's from your old dad, genius. Cash it, but a new rifle, and put in a deck. Don't forget to take the old ball and chain out for a night on the town.

    I need to grow up and sell my bike before it kills me.
    Which moves me to respond. My own dear mother forbade me to buy a motorcycle, which I really want, because, she said, I'd end up as road kill. Yes, that's a possibility, and every time I seriously consider buying a nice bike and riding around the USA and Canada, I read about some guy who cashed in his chips while riding and minding his own business. So - no bike for me.

    I gotta act my age.
    I don't know your age, but I'm guessing you aren't doing a lot of crazy stuff. Getting all screwed up on pot and cheap wine, then riding your bike while shooting out street lights.

    The stereo on my bike is stupid and loud.
    The latest trend in bikers is a loud stereo, which gets under my skin until I realized that this is how most cage pilots know that there's a bike in the vicinity.

    I’m too fat and picking up weight.

    Picking up a few pounds, are we? Got a bit of a girth overhang, do we? Perhaps switching our diet might help.

    And on and on. I'd write more but my kitchen looks like a crime scene. I'm going downstairs to clean things up a bit.

  7. Well I did it. I almost choked up at the bank but I got ‘er done. We’re going to do some little home reno work to clean up the house and spruce things up a bit.

    Afterward I drove the past the big house I was born in and remembered Pop. Maybe part of his shade is still there after all these years? After that the Niglet and I walked some of the trails that he and his pup wandered not that long ago. Maybe on some higher dimension where time is irrelevant… perhaps we passed each other?

    Thanks for weighing in, you lot! Your kindness is sincerely appreciated.

  8. You're a good man, Glen. You see things for what they truly are and those who do are slowly being outnumbered by those who don't or won't.