Hate in a Can…

April 18, 2010 at 12:15 pm (Clairissa, Sweet sticky things, That's not funny...)

…sent with love.

It’s been a tough week for the family and I. Last weekend was a blast. Saturday was Freewheelin’s fiftieth (that’s 50) birthday. He rode by on the hawg, introduced me to his new girlfriend and pet pitbull puppy. (They were gone before I could get a picture of the three of them on the bike.) We hung out for an hour or so, then as they left another friendly face appeared at my door.


She was making the rounds doing haircut-delivery and was nearby, so she popped in to say hello. After shaving my neck, taming my Yoda-ears, and reducing my eyebrows from caterpillar status to inchworm levels, she took a straight razor to my monobrow. (It dawned on me that I should probably shut up while she was waving sharp objects so close to vital organs. No trust issues here!) She scooped me on the latest dirt in her life, we shared a hug and a cuddle before she headed on to the next stop.

In all, it made for a spectacular Saturday. I had big plans to write it all up. All the laughs, as much gossip as I can get away with, etc… I crawled out of bed at 6:30 AM, grabbed a pint of ice cream from the freezer to soften while I checked e-mail/formed my thoughts.

Hmm. A 6 AM e-mail from my niece in California, titled Sad News. It has become my experience that when an e-mail is entitled Sad News, it usually is.

“My dad died this morning. He was hiking in Australia, got tired, sat down on a rock, and keeled over dead. Don’t know more than that, will let you know when I do.”

Her Dad = My Older Brother.

Damn. Hell. Phooey!

I returned the ice cream to the freezer. Joe would have wanted it that way.

The health nut, the man with the Mormon lifestyle, the big brother old enough to be my dad, has moved on to the great gig in the sky.

I’m still processing it all, which is why I’ve been quiet. I have a lot of things to say, but not sure I’m ready to say them yet. I wanted to get the white elephant out of the room; the venting will follow.

My co-workers have been great. After hearing the news, Dr T made another can of yams appear at my work station. “In case you need an impromptu gavel, or want to drop someone with a tight spiral.” I love it when he quotes my blog.

My buddy Alx, no stranger to my hate of raisins, brought me a Voodoo Doughnut and posed the rhetorical question: “Are raisins supposed to have wings?”

My response? “Maybe that’s why raisins taste like dogshit.”

Not to be outdone, Art East went a step further, doing a spectacular job of creating everything I hate in a can. Condensed Cream of Irritation and Nausea anyone?

Thanks to everyone who has been so thoughtful and supportive. I’d especially like to thank Clairissa, who has been checking up on me and keeping my nipples perky with text-messages of support. Set your phone to vibrate, put it in your front pants pocket and I’ll return the favor, hon. 😉

Before heading back to bed, I fetched the ice cream. It’s not the type of pint I usually hoist in honor of a loved one, but I’m sure he’d rather have me hoisting Haagen-Daaz than Heineken.

Good night big brother, wherever you are…

1 Comment

  1. Jack Bog said,

    Crap. Sorry, dude.

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