July 26, 2018

I’m sure you folks had started wondering whether this blog had turned into something sponsored by a Canadian pharmaceuticals company or something, considering the amount of junk posts that have appeared over the past several months. Actually, after looking into things a little more deeply, this had been going on since the beginning of the year (albeit in less of a scope than it had been lately). No one likes to get texts while you’re prepping for Goodboys Invitational weekend saying, “dude, your blog has been hacked again”. So, with the help of the good folks at Dreamhost we were able to nail down that some entity had hijacked a former user and occasional author on this site and used it to post their crap. Hopefully, by disabling that user’s account they won’t be able to sabotage things like they had been doing.

Since I’m here, I’ll leave the Goodboys Invitational weekend update to my next post. The good news is, is that le affaire “The Client Who Shall Remain Nameless” is over. Finished. Kaput. Sure, there’s some minor lingering stuff that one would expect after such a long and arduous journey, but for all intents and purposes it is ovah. How do I know? I left the laptop at my father’s apartment for the better part of four – count ’em, four! – days over GB weekend and never got called. Now that’s saying something! The psychological scars remain, of course (my relationship with my boss and my company will never, ever be the same), but that’s just the way it goes.

The big news is that I got my dad into what appears to be some real nice senior living digs. A lovely community in the next town over where the only thing he’ll have to pay for is some basic internet access and some rental insurance for his studio apartment. It gets him away from the all the obligations, isolation, and ghosts associated with the apartment he had shared with my mom for the better part of fifteen years. He can give up his car and having to worry about going to restaurants and the supermarket for his next meal, and he’ll be surrounded by a bunch of folks his age in a positive and welcoming setting.

I won’t lie to y’all – this is going to take a load of pressure and worry off of me and my brother, who have only wanted the best for him all along. After all, at 89 and in pretty good health (at least at this moment!) he deserves to have a little less worry about living alone. But with me in Arizona and Dave in Georgia, it’s been hard not to worry about him from the moment of waking to that of sleeping. Now, he’ll be a part of a community where he won’t feel so alone. And between the end of “The Client Who Shall Remain Nameless” and this, the ongoing nightmare that has been 2018 might actually give me a bit of a break. All you folks who have had to worry about and take care of your parents know what I’m talking about – you want only the best for them, but the stress is difficult, especially when you’re thousands of miles away.

Of course, we’re not there yet – my dad’s move is in three weeks and there is lots to take care of before that. I’m exhausted, both mentally and physically. I wasn’t at my best during Goodboys weekend, and I triggered easily over the smallest amount of stress. But that’s where my mind and body is right now. As coach Bill Belichick would say, “it is what it is.”. All I can say is, my planned Vegas weekend in early December is an oasis shimmering on the distantr horizon. I don’t know if it’s real or not, and I don’t know if I’ll even get there, but it would sure be nice to look back on this year, tip a glass of Veuve Cliquot, and say, “dude, you made it.”

Filed in: Uncategorized by The Great White Shank at 21:36 | Comments Off on Getting A Handle On Things
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