Still feeling a bit under the weather, but getting better. Same with Karen. Little bits at a time.
About the holiday in Houston. You know, let me just say right up front that I love my parents, and enjoy spending time with them, but they stress the hell outta me. The negativity that is just a matter of course there is so wearing. Examples? Sure...
Dad was driving the new car and was hit by a non-white person. Yes, the non-white people handled it badly. Was it because they had been screwed over before? Maybe. Because they were just assholes? Maybe. But was it because they were non-white people? NO! Yet every time there was a non-white person anywhere near us the entire time we were down there, Mom had to make some comment about how we'd better be careful or they'll hit us or do something stupid to us. Does she really believe this? Is this a fear response? No, it's just anger from her. If the person was white that had hit my Dad, there would have been more "S/he was an asshole" and less :I hate those damned foreign people". I told her that if all those damned Europeans hadn't come over here we Indians would have been just fine, but noooooo, those white imperialistic assholes just HAD to move into our neighborhoods, start dating our women, and mess up our towns. ;-)
Example two. Mom has a running dialogue that she keeps up with herself, I'm not sure she thinks anyone else can hear it, she is losing her hearing, and so is Dad, so maybe, normally, nobody can hear it. But it runs something like this: "Gritch gritch gritch, bitch bitch, bitch. Fine, I'll do it all, as usually. Would it really kill him/her/it to help? Must think I'm a slave, have to work myself to death to do blah blah blah..." Etc. It's really draining to hear all the time. It's sort of a martyr complex.
She is also very bewildered as to why I'm still sick all the time. Karen said she tried to understand when she talked to Mom about it, but long-term illness is just not something she understands. It's like depression. She could not understand how I let myself get depressed, just stop it and be more positive. But then, she had never suffered from depression until her mother died. Then she understood. She called and asked if this was how I felt, and I told her yes, all the time. The meds only help me cope, but do not take care of it.
Anyway, just some gripes. Like I said, I do love them. Dad goes to the Doc tomorrow to see how his arm is doing, and how the 3 breaks are healing.
Okay, off to pay some bills, get a little bird up, and maybe grab some food. Then we'll see what I can get done on the To Do list, and what I am too tired for.
Love and hugs to you all.