First the usual:
WYFP is our community's Saturday evening gathering to talk about our problems, empathize with one another, and share advice, pootie pictures, favorite adult beverages, and anything else that we think might help. Everyone and all sorts of troubles are welcome. May we find peace and healing here. Won't you please share the joy of WYFP by recommending?
In no particular order:
My mother is 87, and while she's still pretty sturdy, she's definitely showing signs of slowing down. Her memory is going, and she knows it. As others have written about so eloquently, having an aging parent is often challenging.
My son is 15. It is my tremendous good fortune that I didn't get the teenager I deserved. I was not a pleasant person at his age. He, on the other hand, is wonderful. Still, having a teenager can be tough. The whole delicate dance of independence and trust. I try to find a balance and just end up feeling passive/aggressive. Thank goodness he has his father's patience.
My house is 96. This means that we spend the majority of our time either tearing things down, or shoring things up. We're diehard DIYers, so it's kind of fun, but, man, you can sure nickel and dime the old bank account down to a nub in a place like this.
My husband is 48, which means that I have to start thinking about his 50th birthday celebration. I'd like to take a family trip. The kid wants to go to Greece. If I stop nickel and diming the house, we might be able to put all of that together.
in 6 days, my sister and brother-in-law will be arriving to stay with us for 4 weeks. They work for the government overseas and have a month to come back and restock their supplies, and such. Now, I love them both, but a month is a long time. So.
It's been 10 years this year since my dad died. He was an amazing guy. Minister. But not like any minister you've probably ever known. If there is a Great Beyond, Dad is plotting to sneak over and put soap in the Presbyterians' fountain. Then he's going to throw firecrackers under the Baptists' cloud just to see them jump. I miss him.
2216. That's my UID. I've seen a lot around here. I love this place, but I'm feeling worn, these days. I need to find my fight again, but I just can't seem to put the gloves on right now. The sheer vitriol from the ultra-right is exhausting. And I'm only watching it, really. I live in Portland, Oregon, where I'm surrounded by blueness. Please know that I just want to weep for those of you who live in places where you are actually in danger. I think about this all of the time.
25. That's the number of WYFPs that I've written over the years.
So, in honor of this Silver Edition of WYFP, won't you please tell me:
What's Your F$@*!n' Problem?