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Archive for the ‘Opa’ Category

Protected: Oh My !

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Nov-19-2019

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Protected: Opa

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Nov-12-2019

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Protected: 03.01.2019

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jan-3-2019

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Protected: In Dutch 2

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Feb-5-2016

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Protected: In Dutch

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jan-26-2016

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The Bubble

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Nov-15-2010

Opa is a mess.  I have no idea how to deal with this.

I was there on Friday, and all that he does is cry. It has been 5 months and he simply cannot see a future.

I was going to make him dinner, but there was not even enough for me to fake it.

He has given up.  His highlight of the day is walking about 300 meters away to Oma’s grave site. Every day.

He does not want to move forward. I understand this. He wants to pretend that she is out biking or something. He wants to keep the house, as a sort of mausoleum.  He wants to live there until the day that he dies. Fine, fine, fine. But then ( I am going to swear now)  do f*ck sh*t  to help yourself. I called him today, invited him for dinner tomorrow. It will be very Dutch.  Really, I do Dutch very well.

I called my Dad today. One does lead to another. Daddy was very sad about the whole business. He has been there, done that.

The Father found a place that will deliver warm meals. Opa will not accept taking meals from this place, 5 euro per meal, it all looks really good, and better than what he is eating now.

It is horrible to say, but no one wants to deal with him any longer. He plays Blanch Du Bois, and one simply has a dreadful time  being with him.

He has become an infant once again.

I have 2 dinners ready for tomorrow. If he is coming, let me know.

I have never been accused of being a saint.


Posted by Mummy Dearest on Nov-11-2010

Opa had another heart attack yesterday. I know what brought this on.  And there is stink poop that I can do about it.

But let me say this : when you cut an Alpha Male’s balls off, he will die.

This is a given.

Out Of The Closet

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Nov-1-2010

Trouble is brewing here at Casa Kitchen, sortof an OK Corral is coming up.

For you see, I am an Atheist. I have been one for a very, very long time. My life would be easier, I guess, if I were not an Atheist, but so it goes. The Father is not an Atheist, we discussed this a long time ago and decided that we would respect each other’s points of view. We also decided that we would raise our children the way that we were raised : in the Catholic Church. They even go to Catholic schools. I would not want my children to think as I do.

The last time that I went to church and went through all of the rituals, believing in them, I was 15. It was Ash Wednesday. As I stepped out of that little white church in Concord, MA. ( alone, for I always went to church alone), a smudged cross on my forehead I knew that I would never go to church again.  I have no idea why I felt that way, I just knew it. It was a very sunny day.

Since that day, I have only gone to church for funerals, weddings and the children’s religious rites of passage. I have always been the only one in the whole church who did not go to communion.

The Father respected this. The only time that he had to choose between Oma and me was when she insisted that I had to go to communion, to be part of the group, to be gezelig. I flat out refused and he took my side.

I had to go to communion at Oma’s funeral, for we were in the first row, how would it look ? And this was really important for Opa, for what the fudge does Oma know, now ?

I have no idea if  I am an anomaly, but I am a Catholic Atheist: one does not take the sacraments lightly. It is an insult to all Catholic believers, to the long heritage of the Catholic church and, no, we are not going to talk about the Inquisition right now.

I talked to my Dad about it : Daddy, I said, they keep making me go to church ( my Father, although it has never been said, only implied, is also an Atheist). Well, he said, just go to church. Dad, they insist that I go to communion. Well, he said, just go to confession and do it. They don’t have confession here, Daddy. Silence on the other end of the phone.

I have now gone to communion three times, for Opa. I had to go on my birthday.  I was told that this was not about me, it was about him. So, I did it. Here I am going to be really rude : the last mass, they had a simply hideous choir, the mass took twice as long. I did the communion bit, feeling overwhelmed by my  sense of hypocrisy and disrespect. But that choir just went on and on and on. I whispered to  the Father, oh, that thing on the left, do you think the one on the right is Mary Magdalene ( Hey, I read The DiVinci Coda) ? I also whispered that I thought that I was sitting next to Typhoid Mary.  The choir continued. I actually whispered to The Father, what is this ? A  f*cking Pink Floyd concert ?

Yup, I whispered that.

I am supposed to go to Church again tomorrow. I told The Father that I was not going. I got the whole * this is not about you, this is about Opa*  sh*t again. I looked at him and said, I will do anything for this man, he and his dog are welcome here for dinner every day of the week, he can live here, but I am not going to church and communion again.

His response startled me : Well, he said, you are an agnostic, just like me. I am guessing that my jaw dropped open, for he has known me for 30 years. No, I said, I am not an Agnostic, I am an Atheist. And every time I have to go to communion * for Opa* I feel like the biggest hypocrite on this earth and so terribly disrespectful of the other members of the congregation, sitting there with their eyes shining, hanging on  every word spoken by the priest.

But if I don’t stop it now, it will just go on and on and on, this pretense.

My take on it would be, well, why not just tell Opa the truth ? Nope, it always has to be lies, for being a female Atheist is right up there with  peddling your ass on the street.

I respect all people who are religious, whatever their faith might be. I am an extremely moral person, although- at times- I have a bit of a potty mouth. I know right from wrong. I am kind to Jehovah Witnesses, in fact, I envy them. I have higher degrees in Theology.

Why do I have to hide under a barrel ? Why is it so very shameful to believe in nothing, except today , to do good where I can ?

Carpe Diem.

Odds And Ends

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Sep-9-2010

- I nearly barfed today. We had take out Chinese today, for I am gearing up for two weeks without The Father and just wanted that whole dinner business for Jack Sprat and his offspring to be off of my mind today ( I wonder if there is an Abacus for food ? Not this, not that, what  is left ?). So I am digging into my giant egg roll and I see a short, coarse black hair. I quietly pull it out and toss it  on the floor. Hey, we have two long haired dogs, I am rather used to hair in food. Then two slices later, I see two, short, coarse black hairs and I lost it : I actually said : there are hairs in my food ! A big no no. Saying it. But, well, enough is enough.

- The Father has been sick, once again, with what is thought to be an ulcer. The general censuses seems to be, these days, that ulcers are caused by a bacterial infection. I feel like a Nazi when I give him his antibiotics- take it. NOW. But as he leaves for India – for 2 weeks- on Saturday- we have to try and resolve this as soon as possible. No, he says, I won’t need an SMS for the last three doses, I will remember them…

-He is flying on 9/11. Enough said. Not really, with that fool wanting to burn books…

_ Opa has a puppy. He was lonely since Oma’s death. A puppy is a good thing for him, for he has to walk it, feed it, he can talk to the dog ( whom I call Junior). But he should have gotten a lab. But, no, he wanted a dog with spirit. And that he has gotten : a Belgian Shepard. I never spell that right. What Opa has forgotten, over the mists of time, is that he never trained their shepards, The Father did. We all think that within the shortest period of time, this dog will be walking all over him. Guilt will not work with a dog. Let us hope for the best and remember who the most likely baby sitter will be for Junior. Here I have to say that I have stood down 200 pound dogs, ready to take that bite and will punch a dog in the nose if they give me any shit. Call the SPCA and then read about the pack mentality. Always go for the nose.


Posted by Mummy Dearest on Aug-29-2010

The Father is sick once more. I found his pills.

We were playing a card game with Opa, a very Brabant game, when The Father turned pale, and then red, and then we stopped the game.

Opa came with his new dog, I call him Junior, his real name is Castor. The advantage of having a house that is is mess, is, well, what can a puppy really destroy ?

I start a new job tomorrow.