Default Response

Keeping up a blog has its challenges. I have days when I have a half dozen events to blog about, but, I dunno, maybe I just get lazy. I tell myself, "Drag your sorry arse into the office and start typing!" 'Myself' just doesn't seem to listen.

Resistance is one decision away from productivity. (I just made that up. Pretty catchy eh?)

So here I am. Back in the saddle again.

My brain keeps tossing around the idea that, for both my mom and dad, the older they get, they seem to rely more and more on certain default responses. Certain phrases or statements, applicable or not, that get tossed into a conversation at random times for no other reason than something fires off in their brain and out comes the words.

Here's an example. Driving with Dad yesterday. He asks about my daughter and how she's doing in New York City, where she has lived for three years now. I tell him she's doing fine, working steadily, happy, busy. And he defaults with:

"SHE NEEDS TO HAVE SOMETHING TO FALL BACK ON."

And kaboinnnng, I'm jarred into a gazillion different reactions, most of which center around my having heard that EXACT phrase soooooo many times when I was growing up, I cannot even begin to tell you!

Or the other day, I was visiting Mom and we're talking about what she had for breakfast and she defaults with:

"I always fold my napkin when I'm done and I never lick my bowl."

That one was a little weird.

Here's what I've noticed. Dad's primary default mode is to be the All-Knowing, All-Powerful Sage for each and every family member, regardless of their age or level of financial stability. This would be great if he really was All-Knowing and All-Powerful. But Dad's warped and drastically out-dated sense of logic make it more like Sorta-Knowing and Not-So-Powerful. Imagine Obi-Wan with senility.

Mom's primary default mode is the ever-obedient, emotionally-needy, albeit somewhat spoiled, little girl. Like a sweet little puppy that just wants to be stroked and loved and kissed and hugged and held. Otherwise, it pees on your favorite shoe.

Anyway, so here's the status report. Dad is getting older. By the month. And if somebody could please find a cure for that....

Mom is struggling with depression and not getting her way at the A.L.F. Maybe it's the other way around--not getting her way, and therefore depressed. Not sure.