But seriously, Mom, what the fuck was up with all the owls?
Monday, April 6, 2009
I'm a grown man, fer christsakes!
There comes a time in our adult lives, that we come to accept who we have become. Give away some of our hopes and dreams, and realize that "this is it, huh?" has an affirmative answer. We forgive past grievances and ask forgiveness for our own mistakes. We realize that our parents did the best job they could do, and that we wouldn't likely do any better. And that's OK. They did pretty good. No visible scars, good enough values and a good mental health base. Childhood is full of memories. At a certain age you need to let go of the bad ones and focus on all of the good. I thank God for the Mom & Dad I got, and wouldn't trade them for anything.
But seriously, Mom, what the fuck was up with all the owls?
But seriously, Mom, what the fuck was up with all the owls?
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4 comments:
(Steve commenting on Mom's behalf)
I don't know "whats up" Dr. Freud. Why don't you go an re-arrange the furniture for the fourth time this week while I think about the owl thing?
You're a Smart Ass (on your fathers side)
Steve, I always loved those owls. I looked at them as a small thing Mom was doing to bring us all together. Think about. The hours and endless hours collecting those beauitful symbols, of those creatures of the night. As a family. We never had to wonder what to get her for any gift giving holiday. We always knew we could just go to the(insert store name here in that shithole of city known as De-Cay-Tur), cause we could get her an owl.She could always bond, long distance with her sister, in their great owl finds. Thousands and thousands of those beautiful, beautiful owls. That lined every wall and flat surface in our 950 square footage house, under air.
OR, could have been...just good old fashioned O.C.D. But I choose to take the high road. My New Years resolution was to be a "Glass 1/2 full" person from now on...How my doin'?
Yeah, yeah, I know, shut the fuck up Wen, and go have your 2millionth beer, buy yourself some more tea lights, and a few more 3 watt bulbs to read yet another Abe Lincoln book by. Yeah, maybe he lives this time.
I sure am sick of seeing this owl up here, every hour or so when I obsessively check this blog. Look, you have some obligation to write something. Even the rude will occasionally write something on the weekends, through a drug and whiskey addled haze. You live in Key West for fuck's sake. You must have observed something in your day to day travels and said "Well, you don't see that everyday!" " I think I shall report on that bit of fucked up-ness I just saw!"....WRITE SOMETHING!!!!
what are you wearing?
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