The November Nutshell Ends in Vomit and Drama

This should be the last of my November nutshells. When you are a nut yourself, you have a lot of material.

After ingesting our so-so Thanksgiving meal, my husband and I walked back home. It was still pleasant weather a week ago. Today it’s 15 friggin’ degrees outside, and even the dog doesn’t want to do her business with her butt in the snow.

Back to the story… well, we watched a movie and retired to bed early. That’s because we were open for business the next day, and both of us had to get to work. (No four day weekends for these Demonics. That’s one of the downsides to owning your own business.)

I had put the feather bed on, and baby, is it comfy under there. I need such comfort, because Mr. D is cheap (I mean, thrifty) and keeps the night time temperature to about 58. I was completely out of it and didn’t wake up all night.

Mr. D on the other hand, for some reason, could not stay asleep. As is his usual modus operandi, if he can’t sleep, he will get up and go to work. It’s not so bad. Our building is about five minutes away from the house. Working in the middle of the night is best for him. He’s on the phone constantly during business hours and cannot concentrate on cleaning his office between putting out fires. His office looks like a tornado went through it, a couple of times. I’ve often said that if something happens to him, I wouldn’t know where anything is. As it is, he’s alive and doesn’t know where anything is.

I didn’t know he was gone. He was smart and didn’t wake me. About 4 a.m., my cell phone rang. It was across the room charging, so it took a while before I got up to answer. By the time I did, it had gone to voice mail.

I noticed that the area code was 415, meaning San Francisco, but the number was not familiar. Could it be my son’s roommate? Is something wrong, I thought? When I retrieved the message, I was still fairly calm. After all, it was only 1 a.m. on the Left Coast, and maybe I was being drunk called.

No, it was worse than that.

My daughter’s boyfriend’s mother was the one who called. She called to inform me that they had taken my daughter to the ER at Marin General, and that she thought Ms. MiniD had alcohol poisoning. She then told me that she had arrived from my son’s house in that condition. That was scary, in that my son lives in the City, and my daughter’s boyfriend lives across the Golden Gate Bridge in Marin.

I immediately called her back, but got a message that her voice mailbox was full. I called my son, and my son’s girlfriend – no answer. (They were in bed sleeping.) Then I called Mr. D, and couldn’t get an answer. (He was on the phone with the BF’s mother.)

Needless to say, there were many tense moments in the next couple of hours. But the doctors ended up not pumping her stomach and not admitting her. She did not have alcohol poisoning but was instead really drunk. My husband spoke to both the mom and the BF, and thanked them. They told him they would call him later. They did not.

Later on, many conflicting stories came out of this situation. Of course, we called my son and yelled at him for a while. In our business, you just don’t drive while under the influence, and he does not. My son says Ms. MiniD came to Thanksgiving dinner at his house with her own bottle of wine. (BF’s mother said no at first, then admitted later that she had given it to her. She also admitted later that she knew her son had a fake ID.) Ms. MiniD stayed at my son’s house for six hours, during which she drank the bottle of wine, had dinner, and plenty of coffee before she left. My son said she was fine when she left, and if she wasn’t he would have told her to stay with them.

So she made the 14 mile trip back to Marin, with no problem. Ms. MiniD says that back at the BF’s house, they had dessert, and the BF’s mother served her another three glasses of wine (at least). She doesn’t remember anything after that. After retiring in the BF’s bed, she began to get sick. The mother freaked out and called the ambulance.

Later that same day, the BF’s mother called me. At first, she was cordial. About three minutes into the call, however, she began to berate me about my parenting skills, saying at one point that didn’t I care about my daughter. I told her I had been concerned about her ever since mid-September when she first started dating her son. I noticed Ms. MiniD had posted photos of herself and the BF obviously drinking on her Facebook page. I was so concerned, I had even contacted the school, but after speaking to the Dean, she said that the grades were okay and that this was probably minor teenage rebellion.

But the mother didn’t want to listen to me. In no time at all, she became shrill and abusive, blaming her son’s falling by the wayside on my daughter. It was obvious to me that she didn’t like Ms. MiniD much, and didn’t think she was good enough for her son. It was also obvious that her son had covered his own ass and told a conflicting story to her. I told BF’s mom that I was hanging up now, and I did. There was no reason to continue the conversation.

Ten minutes later, she called back. Again, I said thanks for your concern, but you don’t know me, my daughter or my family, and I hung up again. About three minutes later, her neighbor called to give me the same condescending work over, and told me she had a number to a rehab place in Malibu. I also told her I wasn’t going to listen (not that I didn’t think my daughter needed intervention – she might, but because I didn’t need a couple of self-righteous rich bitches telling me what to do) and promptly hung up. This continued for another fifteen minutes. I was so upset, I text messaged my daughter and told her to tell her BF to tell his mother to give it up.

As my readers might know, I have given my daughter alcohol on occasion. However, I did so when I knew she wasn’t going to drive. I would never give any of her friends alcohol. A person could get into a lot of trouble doing that.

The end result was that the BF flew back to LA (mom didn’t want him in the car with my daughter), my daughter drove her car back alone (and almost ran out of gas) and supposedly they are broken up. However, they are broken up only on Facebook, and so they are not really broken up.

Mr. D wants to send the BF’s mother the medical bills. After all, she gave Ms. MiniD the alcohol to begin with. He agrees with the Dean’s assessment of the drunkenness, in that this is temporary. He also wants Ms. MiniD to come home. However, he’s not going to force the situation.

I really didn’t need this. I just wanted her to go to school where she would be happiest.

Drama like this is why I enjoy my emptied nest.

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Economic Tightrope

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. This should be a good thing. All of us should take the time to be thankful for what we have.

Yesterday, however, put a bit of a damper on what’s usually a festive holiday. I ran into a woman at the store, whose daughter is a friend of my daughter’s. We stopped and chatted for quite a while. She was bemoaning the fact that Christmas was going to be a little lean this year. She had lost her job in September, and her husband was just informed that if he didn’t relocate to Texas, he would likely lose his job as well. This woman has an elderly mother that she takes care of, and a daughter in college and another entering college next year. At our age, we do not need problems like this.

Later in the afternoon, I received a frantic phone call from another friend who lives in a county north of mine. She was sobbing and told me she will very likely be homeless in sixty days, because she can’t refinance their house. She tried, but her house was appraised at much less than it was worth a year ago. The appraisal came in at lower than her current loan amount, so they will not be able to get a new loan. She has tried for months, but can’t find a job. Her husband works, so they make too much to get any kind of assistance from the state. I’ve helped this friend financially in the past, as much as I am able. I now feel helpless, because I’m no longer able to help her as I did in the past.

I understand and sympathize with these two people. They are but a small representation of a failing economy. Things are tough all over here, and they are for our family, too. Right now, we are still doing fairly well, but we never know what tomorrow may bring. We may be in the same sorry position six months or a year from now.

The economic tightrope is a tough one to walk.