Saturday

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"Each era has its own recipe." - Georges Braque
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I cannot believe a whole day has gone by and I have done no writing. Well, this isn't quite true, I did write in my journal yesterday. I also took notes during the meeting last night.

Yesterday was completely discombobulated. I did not get up in time to get my walk in prior to my psych appointment. I woke up with my sinuses completed filled with cotton or so it felt. Michael was preparing breakfast.

When I came out from getting ready for my appointment, I had 30 minutes to get there. Michael is knocking his head like in the commercials, "I could have had a V-8." He had forgotten about my appointment. He prepared me a small dish of fried potatoes and onions and out the door we went.

While I was with the doctor, Michael went to the dollar store to purchase some large and small zip bags and some trash bags. He was waiting for me when I came out of the office. We talked about going to the Salvation Army to get our monthly allotment of provisions. When we arrived at the office, there were people all ready lined up for the Friday give away. Neither one of us were in the mood to wait for an hour and then deal with the folks. My bowels had been in an uproar and I was ready to go home.

With all the excitement going on with our house guest, seeing the doctor, and just being out of the house, when I arrived home I went and took a nap. I had not thought I would have been that sleepy but I went out and was groggy when I awoke.

Tonight is my first night of being the secretary for my Al-Anon group. I felt I was ready to make the commitment for three months. I was told that if I needed assistance, someone would be there to assist. Plus, I am the keeper of the key; which means, I need to get to the meeting earlier than I usually do.

Miss Perfection was in attendance and I had to appease her that everything was okay. I did a few things out of order but everything was covered. I was still anxious but made it through the meeting.

Little did I know what I was going to be coming home to? Our house guest was having a melt down. I feel that with the impending departure, she was getting overwhelmed by everything.

I talked to her and got her to calm down and to rest. Next thing I know, there is a knock at the door. Hmm, I did not think we had been that loud but I would find out. When Michael opened the door, there were four sheriffs standing on our door step.

The sheriffs' department had received a call from our house guest's daughter worried that her mother was going to try and commit suicide and would they go check it out.

Easy Peasy, right? Wrong.

Michael and Officer Buzz-Cut began male posturing when Officer Buzz-Cut would not let Michael close our door by placing his foot against the door. Oh my.

I went to get our house guest. She was in the bathroom on the phone and using the facilities. I told her she was needed at the front door.

Meanwhile back at the front door I attempt to de-escalate the situation between Michael and Buzz-Cut. House guest comes out. The sheriff tells her why they are there and would she come outside. She said no.

I ask Michael to go take care of my dinner. I take the door away from Officer Buzz-Cut by opening the door and stepping between the door, house guest and the officers. The officers all back up.

I explained to the officers what had happened and everything was in order. In the intervening time they are talking to house guest who becomes upset all over again. She tells them she is not leaving the house and they are not coming in. She does not trust them and knows they have killed at least three people in our county in the last year. (This is true but they would not admit to it). Between her and I, we convince the officers that house guest is safe and in good hands.

The door is shut and the fall out begins.

Michael is angry. House guest is angry.

How did the officers get our address to know house guest was here since she says she had told no one of where she was?

Michael goes outside to walk off his anger. He meets up with two of the officers who had come in last and were still on the property. They chat and Michael tells them of the behavior of Officer Buzz-Cut. We tell them that we do not trust them and that they lie in court to cover their butts. These two men listened and admitted there were some bad apples in the sheriffs' department. When I had my say, I came inside. I had had enough high current energy for one night.

I attempt to call some Al-Anon members to get a reality check but everyone is in bed. It was only 10:30 p.m. and it is Friday night - what gives? Anyway, I turn to my program literature and calm myself down. I also do deep breathing and work with my crystals.

Michael is still angry. I try to reason with him but he is not ready to let go of his anger. Okay, be angry. I take care of myself and pretty soon I am falling asleep in my chair.
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It's a new day. I wake up with a headache. House guest is packing and getting ready to have Michael take her to the airport.

They leave.

The apartment and I heave a sigh of relief.

It is hard to believe we are alone again. I am never doing this again.

It feels good to sit here and type. I listen to the hummingbirds. I see the feeder jar is empty. I figured they would finish of the nectar by the end of the week.

In the midst of writing, I prepare the sugar water for the feeder. I bring in the feeder to clean and sanitize it.

Michael returns from the airport and both of us wander around the apartment feeling relief that our guest has gone home. Although, her plane does not depart until 1:15 p.m. She could still call and say she can't make the flight. We keep our fingers crossed.

The weather is glorious. I have all the windows open. Bailey is spread out on the ottoman. Michael is napping on the futon. I am puttering and sitting still.

Tomorrow, we have breakfast with Lady M in Baywood Park. Oooh, something fun to look forward too.

mz. em

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Currently reading:
-- "Taltos" - Anne Rice
-- "The Daily Book of Art/356 readings that teach, inspire & entertain" - day 32
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