Why Do You Think They Call It Dope?

I was wrong about that photo of my twelve year old mother I posted yesterday.  Maybe.  My mother says she could have been thirteen.  Uncle Wilford and Aunt Irene took my mother and her cousin, Helen, to Cleveland.  I don't think my grandfather ever took her anywhere.  This picture is my mother as a teenage hooker, I guess, in the front yard of her house.  I didn't want to ask her who took the photo.  That is the house she lived in with her sister and parents on her grandfather's property next to the farm.  Those woods behind the house belonged to him as well.  My mother says they were poor, but she was born during the Great Depression.  On a farm.  With woods.  They never stood in a food line, and it wasn't the Dust Bowl. Mom doesn't look to be starving.  

But I'll leave that narrative lie for a bit.  If I want to continue, I have a lot of scanning to do.  And I ate a gummy last night before bed and am still groggy and slow goofy this morning.  I do better with the Tylenol/Ibuprofen combo.  My knee kept me awake and aware that I had eaten a gummy all night long.  

I have always been a drug weenie.  

I don't think this will be a very productive day.  I may go back to bed. 

Oh, shit. . . here's a thing.  I got an ad from Gap telling me that cargo shorts were back!!!!  Holy smokes!!!!  So I did a little Googling and found it was true all over.  Sent some screen shots to friends.  Sky gave me a dressing down for my seeking. . . what was it?  Validation!  Yes, that was it.  It was a good, smart tongue-lashing.  Red sent back a strange report.  She had been bitten by an iguana.  She must have been eating goofy pills.  She saw it, picked it up, and held it until it bit her.  Venomous stuff.  Her hand is swollen and painful.  She is on strong antibiotics.  

Q simply said, "Just in time!"  

And here I am with all my normcore shit now.  

I got my dates mixed up a bit.  Next Friday's party is tonight.  Oops.  I'm not mentally prepared.  I don't think that I will go.  I'm ready for a tasty takeout meal from one of my favorite restaurants and a good bottle of wine.  

Oh, yes, there was one other bit of news.  My mother got the results of her annual checkup yesterday.  She's good for another year.  That depression era growing up poor on a farm life seems to have made her hardy.