Another Hula Hoop Day

Whew.

It is good to be home.  I have had a blank mind the last week and please: no comments from the peanut gallery on that softball I just lobbed into home plate.

I have tried to call my father every other day or so since I returned.  Sometimes he answers, sometimes he doesn't, but you can forget the return call.  The calls last approximately 2.7 minutes.  So be it.  It is what it is.  This is behavior long established 

I ask my sister how she thinks he's doing and I get a food report and a sociability report.  I do not get an alcohol report which I think is the most important report.  Apparently, no one else does.  I think he may be fooling them a little bit with his drinking patterns and I think there is probably some denial on their part and I also think that I should probably keep my fucking nose out of other people's business.  I say again: it does no one any good to harp on what I perceive as their shortcomings and errors and defects of character, and it's not as if my life is any paragon on righteous living and good choices.

I LOVE it when people give me advice.  Unsolicited advice.

The difficulty is that I have spent so much of my life - all of my adult life - around alcoholic drinking and aberrant behavior, facts that make it hard to pipe down when I see someone drinking like a drunk.  I pointed out to many people that dad drinks in the A.M. yet no one ever brings it up.

Today I will respect your hula hoop.  If I can't get inside there with you then it's none of my damn business.