Butch for a day.

There was a time when shame would bring a thief to admitting their wrongs.

It was a time of innocence and respect for others, and this is where the G'ma still resides.

along with her cognitive memory

"I want to call her and tell her to give me my stuff back.  Maybe she will if I explain that it was a family heirloom."

Then for the 100th time, I explained, "Grandma, thieves don't care these days.  She's already brought it to a pawn shop and it's gone."

"Well, then I'll offer her money.  Maybe she'll give it back to me if I give her money for it.  I just want it back."

yes ... you're reading right ... she didn't listen to a word i said.

G'ma is going to ask us about 50 times a day until the day she dies.  It's starting to get to me.  I've written notes for her so she can remember, but she tosses them in the recycling after she reads them.

I wrote it down again today, but it won't make a difference.

The other day I was 10 minutes late for an appointment because I had to go through the whole chain of events as to why her jewelry box is missing.

We're all very upset that the person staying here while we were in the Dominican Republic invited a thief into the house.  Papi lost a $250 Canucks Jersey.  I didn't lose anything important that can't be replaced.

but it still pisses me off ... fuck you sister of friend.

But honestly, I can't hear about G'mas heirloom over and over every breathing minute of the day.

It will be the same conversation until something else happens to upset the G'ma.

Like the shrub Papi cut, or the stairs without the carpet and the list goes on and on like the annoying repeating conversations I have every time I just want to go let the dogs out.

gawd i hope i die before my brain does.

I'm going to start leaving out the basement door, climb the stairs, force this broken body over the dog gate and slink away from now on.  I can't handle repeating the same conversations from scratch when I'm trying to rush out the door for work or an appointment.

Sometimes, I don't even want to come home, because it means walking through G'mas space to get to our little love nest in the dungeon.

She's living in a world that doesn't exist past 5 minutes and I wish I were more patient.  It's a true test of your level of composure living with an elder who's lost their marbles.

I just wanted to come on here and have a giggle about Papi, but instead I'm venting about the 5 years short of a centurian.

Well, it wasn't really a giggle about my love, it was just that Papi texted me that they had gone to a fag bar.

I jokingly replied, "Are they flirting with you?"

Papi was very upset replying, "No.  Grrrr.  I'm obviously a woman."

With these words, I clung to the butch I married one more time, "Honey, you're better than a woman.  You're a butch.  I know you want to be seen as someone else, but to me you're perfect no matter what you look like."

I received love back from these words, but really, it was about being happy that my butch was still here.

A little less up top, but still here.

It was all about the moustache.  I have the feeling that caterpillar won't ever be shaved off again.

But then again, my love will have to deal with the 95 year old force.  Who knows, maybe G'ma will win again.

She's crafty, that old bird.