Have you heard of the Cascadia Subduction Zone? Apparently, the biggest, most powerful (therefore threatening) zones of the Pacific Ring of Fire. The devastating earthquake is predicted to kill 11,000 which is miniscule compared to the damage to human life and nature that the following tsunami will cause. The average time between shakes is approximately every 298 years or so. We have passed the average by some 75 years.
Not too minimize the projected natural disaster but I'm feeling a little like the Juan de Fuca plate, or at least the rupture zone. The pressure is slowly building and the throbbing veins in my forehead are casting shadows on my cheeks.
If you have been following my blog you are most likely familiar with some of the family pressures we are dealing with. The last two days we have discovered that the an acquaintance with a two month old baby is shooting heroin.
We had a heavy duty intervention yesterday. My sis and I are all "What about the baby?" Friends of the addict are all about "What about our friend?"
To make a long story short (I know, too late) the conversation was basically.
"Call CPS."
"We're going to tell her she just needs to call (insert our local ineffectual rehab)."
"What about the baby."
"But we can't desert our friend. She's already lost one baby!"
Voices raising."So you're telling me your willing to see another baby lost so you don't hurt your friends feelings!"
"But you don't know what she's been through!"
"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT POOR BABY IS GOING THROUGH!" (ew, that was not my inside voice!)
Eventually, conversation came to an end. The grandma has baby and will keep it until 'friend' gets help, rehab and counseling.
Between you and me, I'm looking up the number for CPS and giving them a call. (Or, maybe I should ask my sister what the number is because she has probably already looked it up this morning).
After the 'intervention' we return to the teenage-grandchildren/grown-children debacle. You know that 'I-thought-you-thought thing that goes on when all the messages get passed between the teens and the adults are doing the I-dont-know shoulder shrug! That problem resolved, we get home at 9:30 p.m. and it's our night for cooking dinner....Pop Tarts anyone?
A couple of minutes after we eat (yes, I like my Pop Tarts un-toasted) begins a texting conversation regarding two of my granddaughters dying their hair blue today; one did a kool-aid bath dye yesterday. Conversation continued until my thumb cramped up on me at 10:30.
As I was laying in bed; my energy account over withdrawn x 3 weeks, I rested my head on my husband's shoulder.
"I'm tired of being a human," I whined, "I want to be a Buick!"
His response? "What year?"
Nothing like uncontrolled laughter to recharge one's energy account!
But, God, let me be today! Don't teach me nothing new!
Not too minimize the projected natural disaster but I'm feeling a little like the Juan de Fuca plate, or at least the rupture zone. The pressure is slowly building and the throbbing veins in my forehead are casting shadows on my cheeks.
If you have been following my blog you are most likely familiar with some of the family pressures we are dealing with. The last two days we have discovered that the an acquaintance with a two month old baby is shooting heroin.
We had a heavy duty intervention yesterday. My sis and I are all "What about the baby?" Friends of the addict are all about "What about our friend?"
To make a long story short (I know, too late) the conversation was basically.
"Call CPS."
"We're going to tell her she just needs to call (insert our local ineffectual rehab)."
"What about the baby."
"But we can't desert our friend. She's already lost one baby!"
Voices raising."So you're telling me your willing to see another baby lost so you don't hurt your friends feelings!"
"But you don't know what she's been through!"
"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT POOR BABY IS GOING THROUGH!" (ew, that was not my inside voice!)
Eventually, conversation came to an end. The grandma has baby and will keep it until 'friend' gets help, rehab and counseling.
Between you and me, I'm looking up the number for CPS and giving them a call. (Or, maybe I should ask my sister what the number is because she has probably already looked it up this morning).
After the 'intervention' we return to the teenage-grandchildren/grown-children debacle. You know that 'I-thought-you-thought thing that goes on when all the messages get passed between the teens and the adults are doing the I-dont-know shoulder shrug! That problem resolved, we get home at 9:30 p.m. and it's our night for cooking dinner....Pop Tarts anyone?
A couple of minutes after we eat (yes, I like my Pop Tarts un-toasted) begins a texting conversation regarding two of my granddaughters dying their hair blue today; one did a kool-aid bath dye yesterday. Conversation continued until my thumb cramped up on me at 10:30.
As I was laying in bed; my energy account over withdrawn x 3 weeks, I rested my head on my husband's shoulder.
"I'm tired of being a human," I whined, "I want to be a Buick!"
His response? "What year?"
Nothing like uncontrolled laughter to recharge one's energy account!
But, God, let me be today! Don't teach me nothing new!
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| Uncontrolled laughter courtesy of Frank Tona |
Gimme the number and names and I'll call.
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