Too much to say and none of it can be said.

Gene and Tori broke up.
That's that.
The Peppards' still ♥ this girl.

Thank Jesus for Zen

Gene's truck broke down a few weeks ago and in the name of frugality (AKA: the kid's got no money) Trent encouraged him to attempt to fix it himself.  There was something-something, wrong/burnt out/fried with the something-something head gasket.  Or that's something like what they might have said.  Gene had a friend who "knew how to fix it" and well the bottom line is that for a family who just a few years ago would have EASILY and QUICKLY  PAID someone to do the job, GOT the job done themselves, saving someplace in the region of one thousand (yes, that's THREE zeros, folks) dollars.  This weekend as Trent was on his way to Enumclaw to meet the rest of his family (lovely wife and four marvelous children) in order to help move some of the contents of his mom and dad's house.  (Said parents will be moving to Sequim before the end of the month.)  Blah, blah, blah, blah.... Trent called from Purdy to say that his transmission had blown up (again, bear with me on the automotive technical terms here....  I *think* he said "blown up").  All plans became quickly cluster fucked.  (Great technical term here... military origin, I believe.)  Our good friend Logan (and Katie) came to the rescue for Trent, giving up all alternative plans on Saturday morning to drive their trailer two hours, pick up Trent and truck and drive him and it two hours back.  In the meantime I locked my keys in my car at Shirley's house.  Friends of hers came to MY rescue and got my car opened using a variety of tools and muscle saving me many hundreds of dollars.  As Saturdays go, it was not one of my favorites.  Of course one of life's great mysteries is that it is destined to be one of the Saturdays that will never be forgotten, no matter how hard I try.  In order to come full circle with this post I will end by saying, Trent's truck is now at a neighbor's house, who is some kind of engineer, who says he can fix his truck for around $500.  If this is possible, then regardless of our apparently appalling car-karma, we may be in the middle of some kind of good money-karma.

In an attempt at add some more positivity to this otherwise questionably positive post there were a few more bright spots:  I got to spend some great time with Tori.  Bay bonded with Shirley.  Gene kept a level head, aided in Trent's rescue and drove a "big ole" truck and trailer on some pretty major highways with limited geographical knowledge.  Gina and Gigi arrived (in the middle of the locked car fiasco) and we got a bonus visit in with them.  Who says it was all bad??

By the time we got home, Trent was calm and happy.  He HAD imbibed two Dark and Stormys and it must be said was feeling no pain.  How we all laughed about our day... well... no... he wasn't feeling THAT much no pain, and I had just spent three hours in the car with ALL our children.  (At one point Tori swore to me that after spending just this one car journey with us she would NEVER have children.)  But we were all home.  We survived and we will probably look back and laugh at this some time in the distant future.  Maybe.  (Maybe not.)

Catchup, Aisle 3

Too many catch-up style posts.  This will not be fun to read in the years to come.  Too many gaps.  This portion of family is life if very scattered.  We eat meals together every night but sometimes that seems like very little to hold the whole fabric together.  Gene is in between sports.  Needs a job.  Loves his girl.  Thinks we are fine, but annoying.  Neil is in danger of becoming chronically middle-childed.  He rarely needs bribes because he has his shit together and so often gets nothing whereas Gene and Gus are always on the take someplace.  Trent and I need to address that.  If I were Neil I'd have figured out the advantages to holding back a little, putting forth a little less effort but I was WAY sneakier than Neil.  Bay is Kindergarten-Pop-Culture-Girl.  If it's the fad, she wants it.  She is in the middle of a group of girls who will probably be pretty tight right through school.  It will be fascinating to see this group given that she stays with them through high school.  Gus rides Neil's big heavy-duty dirtbike and has no fear.  Trent and I use up all available fear as we watch him.

In a brief conversation with Gene a few nights ago I realized that he really doesn't appear to understand the gravity of CF.  I was very annoyed about this until I realized (in rather an epiphany) that I have always explained to people that when you ALWAYS "have" something, it is very different emotionally and psycologically than "developing" something.  The journey is vastly different.  This makes me look brave and daring and heroic and all those fabulously admirable traits.  The truth is however that I don't know any other way,  I could impress the hell out of people just by telling them how many pills and tablets and now even SHOTS I take a day.  But it's just a number and it takes a minute and I can (impressively) swallow many pills at once.  (It's not as impressive as you might think and it's not a skill that you can be paid for, unfortunately.)  BUT the epiphany came when I realized that I expect Gene to understand the "gravity" of the "situation" although I go to great lengths to down play it and work around it in my day to day life.  My kids grew up with me taking pills, doing occasional Home IVs, being healthy, being sick, going to long, drawn out, far away doctors appointments.  My kids knew someone who'd had a double lung transplant long before they knew anyone who'd had a broken leg.  I never gave them credit for adapting to having a sick mom in the same way that I have adapted to being a sick mom and GOD  FORBID anyone call ME sick!    So why in the name of GOD would I be annoyed that the kid would take CF in his stride.  Wasn't that my goal all along?  And isn't it still?

The Peppards' ♥ ♥ ♥ this girl!