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Category: Fret Deliveries

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Familial Fantasies

Familial Fantasies

I do not have the children I expected. They’re like me in ways I wish they weren’t. They express traits of their father’s that are not amongst my favorites. But, on some days I can see the best of myself and my spouse shimmer within them. I treasure those days. Even then, when I am hopeful and happy (relatively), I worry and cannot sideline the stereotypical Westside mother I embody. I push for more. Always and forever more. I am the Sisyphus of parenthood, my children the recalcitrant rock that will not heed my guidance up Opportunity Hill. My children are late bloomers. Some days I have to dig deep to believe that they will bloom at all; those days… READ MORE

Awareness

Awareness

April is Parkinson’s Awareness Month. I am quite aware I have Parkinson’s. I bet other twitchers are too. What good does awareness do? Does it help the outstretched hands of non-profits? “Now that you’re aware of fill-in-the-blank will you write a check?”  Maybe. Every day of every month someone is trying to make me aware of something through one campaign or another. And reassuring me that the price of this newfound, now essential awareness is a donation – any amount helps… $500 (or more) is suggested. Frankly, the only people whose radar I’d like Parkinson’s Awareness Month to ping are doctors, researchers, scientists, drug developers and their brethren. To all of you, those of you who can turn awareness into research… READ MORE

Tears

Tears

“Do you ever cry?” asked the blue-suited banker as our formal lunch segued from spreadsheets to stories. “I had a very dark weekend when I was first diagnosed.” Reflexively, I share the story of the weekend after my Thursday diagnosis almost five years ago. In truth, I barely cried then – the reality of the diagnosis left me more numb than weepy. “Do you ever cry?” The question spins in my head. Occasionally, my tears flow. When I see yet another skill diminish my eyes well up with thoughts of what used to be.  I type quickly, but not at the near warp speed of a court stenographer that was my habit before my left hand trembled. I rage at… READ MORE

Quarantine Family Court

Quarantine Family Court

“Dad, I said I was ‘sorry.’ Can you please just spank me now?” pleads my daughter with the overwrought exasperation that only a quarantined 16-year-old can muster. Family Court is in session – and will be 24/7 for at least the next month or two. Or more likely three. At least. We’re here all day together. All day. Every day. Together.  We are proof positive that familiarity does, in fact, breed contempt… and conflict… and ennui.  The transgressions add up quickly; this court’s docket can full by mid-morning. “You’ve never been spanked in your life. What are you talking about?” Must I worry about revisionist history on top of everything else? Welcome to QFC — Quarantine Family Court—West Coast Edition.… READ MORE

We Are One

We Are One

Stupidity is hard to tolerate under the best of circumstances. In today’s so-very-far-away-from-even-okay-times my tolerance for the idiotic is nonexistent. Stupidity is now lethal. Our Orange-in-Chief disbanded the White House’s pandemic response office, proposed brutalizing the CDC in Washington, slashed its staff in China. We’ve known that China is an unreliable reporter – their government is known to bend truth to their  preferred narrative – for decades. So, limiting travel from the world’s second largest economy made sense. Why follow that up by refusing to heed the wisdom of our intelligence agencies who telegraphed this scourge’s stateside arrival in late 2019?  Why was  politics once again allowed triumph over policy? Each imagined answer makes me seethe.  Stupidity is dangerous, when… READ MORE

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