Turned out I was wrong

I'm going to start this story, by saying the end result is, that he is home safe. That way, it's just like one of the many movies of late, that start as the main character get's shot or some such, and then a title across the screen flashes  "Three weeks earlier" , and the story unfolds to the point of the beginning-end. Really tired technique, but popular nonetheless. Gus' flight was cancelled and he had to remain in Argentina another day. His Host Mother, whom I will be punching in the face upon meeting, told him that he could not stay another day in her home if he didn't pay her.
As he had only enough money for the ride to the airport and a couple of meals, he was cast out into the second largest city in South America, population 2,891,082 .  I may be exhibiting a little of that thing called drama here, but as far as I was concerned, that is some nasty shit to do to a kid, for thirty bucks.
The other bestes part of this story is an agent from United Airlines told me to tell Gus to go to the airport, a two bus ride trip, and the airline would set him up for the night at the UA desk, which he did, only to find it vacant.
Being the resourceful and fluent person he is, he managed to find a place to stay with friends, and fly out twenty four hours later. All character building and sense of self reinforcing stuff.  However, I might have liked to start at the end of that one, and not bothered to watch the rest.

Against the wall

I have been very not well, but we all knew that was bound to happen.
 Eamon is working part time as of a few weeks ago.  It may only last awhile as it is in an industry that is seasonal, but he thinks that he will be able to continue, perhaps in another position, but we will have to take all of that as it comes.
I had my first CT scan last week, that was almost better than space mountain at Disneyworld, but not quite. The level of fuzzy that I've been living with has less to do with my age and more to do with a multitude of infection, virus and other storm of issues that had to remain dormant for the year that I have been working more than full time, in order to enable me to make the bacon.
Now that I don't have to do it all, the floodgates  of  the lovely couple of stress and anxiety gone and went crazy with my system and brought down the hammer. 
As I am now on the most powerful antibiotic, antiviral combination of hell drugs, soon, (and it better be soon because I've got a birthday coming up), all will be right again with the world, for at least a moment.

Mocking shadows

After reading Are You My Mother? I’m left with questions and lots of holes.
Though Bechdel ‘s books are graphic novels they are at times as dense as textbooks. Her asides are academic annotations and footnotes that have me searching for obscure essays on child development and personality formation.
Her mom sounds remarkably like my own, cold, needy, demanding, narcissistic in such a way that I developed a false self , or actually many, in unsuccessful attempts to please, be loved, or at least less reviled by the one person that could, and would never love me. And that, I’ve finally discovered had absolutely nothing to do with me, which I reckon, feels somewhat irrelevant at this point.
I hate my mom, as I imagine my children hate me. It’s genetic, or at least some of it is, enough to be familiar with, as I hear the edge in Jacob’s voice as he struggles.
Or, in Jack Henry’s tone when he blames me for the fall off of his bicycle, which I somehow caused by calling him on his phone when he was riding home from school.
Or, for Gus ,who will return home in a week, from five months and twenty thousand dollars of more debt for me, for a semester abroad.
So, now that all of that hate and acceptance is established. What now?
Hello Dr. Freud It’s me Abby.

I swear that you are

A gem.  That's the word that my boss used to describe me in an email to another supervisor who was praising my abilities.  Not bad, if only I felt that it was appreciated beyond my presence and willingness to do most anything.
As I have been ill, Eamon as my proxy, attended the Dandy Warhols show on Saturday night.  The tickets were my Mother's Day gift from Jake.  As far as I'm concerned, it's the next best thing to being there.  He had a great time, loved the band, and I got to stay home and watch movies.
Both of them were amazing.  Goon is a gem, as is Detective Dee and the Mystery of the Phantom Flame.  Each of these movies was overlooked and undervalued.  They should have been huge, and in some ways may be considered  as such, but compared to  much of the boring, senseless, tiresome, and ultimately financially successful motion pictures, they're golden.  And that, is something I can relate to completely.

When the dirt is off

Each and every day, I wake up with hope and dread.  It depends on what or how much I had to eat the night before, and this I only  learned just a while ago in trying to find the right balance of food, exercise and mind games to keep myself to the center of sane.
Jacob has told me that he's been warned about the first drink that might, and probably will be taken in his journey towards recovery.  That the rush is so intense, it's more of a challenge to stop after that then when he had the experience that initiated this process.  It's the sugar. Or better said, insulin kicks in like there's no tomorrow, and the craving, that absolute need is as real and vital as breathing.  But, with that, would a milkshake provide the same relief ?  Would anything sweet satisfy that desire, long enough for the thirst to subside. 
I hope he never has to run that gauntlet.  But I'll try to help him be ready in case it does.

It never ends

Youth is tricky, and by that I mean it will deceive you in to believing it's endless, and that, is a slippery slope.
Many of my friends are a few years younger then me, and they have not yet gotten to the point of no return.  Which is not to say that they aren't feeling some of the loss and mourning of times gone by, but the pronounced feeling of regret, loss and desire for absolution of all of the stupid things I've done, seems to have come with the big fifty breathing down my neck.
This will be the last year of high school for me, as Jack will be a senior in two days. For him, this is the year of self regulation.  If he doesn't start now, then when he has to manage his own life, I don't think he'll have much success.
We often start out with lots of proclamations about how things are going to go from now on, and that lasts for awhile and then fades away.  In that I am the ultimate self governor,  it's amazing how little of that  behavior seems to have been spread around at my house; or is it?