Skeptic

As I write this, Hangdog is headed to the hospital. He fell this morning and he's insisting on going to the hospital. Our doctor (saint-in-training) will meet him there.

First skeptical thought: He knows the husband is leaving today.

This is the third fall this week.

Second skeptical thought: Convenient timing.

He's having erratic behavior more of the time. He's babbling at one point and coherent the next.

Third skeptical thought: It's a plot to get pain pills.

One of my wives-in-law visited with him yesterday and then called me to express her concern.

Fourth skeptical thought: She's in on it. (Just kidding!)

The husband is stressed, as am I. We had a quick bite with some friends last night and as usual, I looked around the table and realized every single person there is dealing with some form of this situation.

Time Flies

Last night I was supposed to meet a few of the golf widows. Their husbands are on the same trip as Big Daddy. I was iffy about it because the weather was crummy and I get nervous driving on sleet and snow. Idiot Sheri came into play and said, "Go." So, I went and I'm glad I did.

While I was trying to find these friends, I ran into at least five people that I know. (Yes, one of them was probably your ex.) I ran into one of my wives-in-law. Why are all these people out on such a crazy weather night?

One person who I had not seen in years gave me a gigantic hug and then had to take a call from his daughter. I know his ex-wife. I remember when they called with the news that they were expecting twins. I have vivid memories of her baby shower and visiting when the babies were newborns. Their babies are now 12-years old. Time flies.

Do you ever hear a song on the radio and then the DJ will tell you the name of the group and the year? If I'm singing along, chances are it's an oldie. But when they announce the year, I'm usually taken aback. Time flies.

It's been a month since the Belle died. Time flies whether you're having fun or not.