My Brain Is Slightly Undead

I’m not ashamed to admit that I have a vivid imagination. I always did and I’m sure I always will. As a child, I was the go-to person for all my friends if they wanted help bringing some outlandish make-believe game to life. Now days, rainy days are no match for my children when I’m around especially if there is a box large enough to climb inside. How I never got involved in role-playing games like Dungeons and Dragons I’ll never know. Oh, wait, yes I do. It was “demonic” according to the church my mother forced me to attend with her and god forbid; I went against the grain of the other sheeple and did something creative.

Lately, I’ve been making posts here and there about the weirdness in my brain such as my invisible stalkers and my feathered spirit guide. Today, I invite you to take another trip inside my mind’s eye into what happens when someone is obsessed with zombies. Yes, zombies. When you spend many days on end reading books, watching movies (and television shows thanks to The Walking Dead series), and visiting websites about zombies, it comes as no surprise when my gray matter concocts visions about the undead.

A few nights ago I dreamed that my kids and I were in New Orleans at my husband’s grandparent’s home. As we sat hanging out in the living room, the grandparents came out of their bedroom. Even in the dream itself, I was caught off guard by seeing Maw-Maw. My subconscious mind had registered that she was dead. In reality, she has been since April of 2010. What made this odd (even for a dream) is she looked vibrant and youthful like I had seen her in photographs from the 70s and early 80s. The kids, of course, ran to give her a hug. They were excited to see her and probably couldn’t wait for the spoiling to begin all over again. I don’t blame them.

On the other hand even my dream-self had to know how she happened to be there. I asked what the hell was going on. She sort of looked at me like she was surprised I wasn’t already aware. Then she proceeded to tell me that a few days ago Paw-Paw picked her up from the cemetery and began feeding her. Paw-Paw stepped forward. He looked worn and tired. Then, he showed me his arm.

Most of his forearm was a grayish color, giving him a Gollum-esque flesh tone. To keep her alive, he had been allowing her to feed off of him. The feedings were not a form of vampirism as she didn’t puncture his skin to drain his blood. In a sense she was a type of zombie but instead of ingesting the flesh, she was absorbing his life force or aura. In the dream, this was accepted as a form of science, mad science, but science nonetheless.

Upon waking from this mental vision, I believe somehow Keanu Reeves possessed me for second or two because all I could do was sound a drawn out “Whoaaaaaaaa.” Then I questioned if I took the red pill or the blue pill before bed. I’m going to guess it was the blue one.

Sharks & Section 8

Sharks can smell the blood in the water...and mother-in-laws can smell money on its way to your checking account or at least my mother-in-law can.

Financially, we have been making it by the skin of our teeth basically treading water to prevent from drowning.  When my husband was offered a job that would send him to Afghanistan he took it for two reasons:  1.) the obvious reason, a substantial payroll increase and 2.) he'd be working directly under a three-star general and he felt that having him on his future resume would look pretty.

Now, mind you, he left for Alabama over the weekend for about a month of training before heading to the Middle Mess, errr, I mean, East.  Obviously, we have not receive any more cash flow as of yet.  However, a couple of days ago I get a phone call from the mother-in-law asking for $300 to pay her deposit on a new apartment.  WHA-AAAT!?!?!?

Let me back track...

My mother-in-law is a recovering addict.  She is bi-polar and also suffers with back trouble.  She's in her early 50s and has never really been 100% self sufficient.  She holds a part time job but receives a substantial amount of government assistance.  Lucky for her (and for my husband growing up), the glue of the family was my husband's maternal grandmother.  She would bend over backwards to help her daughter time and time again much to the disapproval of my husband's grandfather.  In his defense, I can't blame him for being leery to help her considering after my husband's father walked out when my husband was still very young the grandfather allowed the mother-in-law and my husband to stay in their home and she thanked them by committing credit card fraud and racking up a little over $10,000 in bills which over time they paid off.  So, yeah, I can see why he would want to keep his distance.

In April of this year, the grandmother passed away.  The mother-in-law, while doing much better, lacks many of the life skills that comes with being on one's own that most people experience and retain in their early 20s and 30s.  Now in her early 50s, she's always been bailed out of her problems (I'm not talking jail, BTW) and has never had to actually do it all on her own.

Anyway back to the previously scheduled program...

She apparently applied for Section 8 which from my understanding is a government program that assists with rent based on your income.   The applicant pays a percent and the government pays a percent and by government I mean taxpayers.

When she called me it was a few days after my husband left.  She asked if he had told me about her moving which he hadn't.  She said her aunt was giving her money to pay for movers and that Section 8 would be assisting her with rent but she hadn't received the voucher yet.  She said she had to come up with her portion of the deposit which was $300.  Then she told me she needed it by the 1st of September.  She called me on the 30th of August, by the way.  I explained to her I didn't have it at this point in time to give to her.  Although she never said outright that she spoke to my husband about giving her the money, she has this manipulative way of beating around the bush about things which is exactly what she did.  I told her I needed to talk to my husband before I could send her anything.

Later that day, I spoke to my husband and he had no clue what I was talking about.  He didn't even know his mom was moving.  I asked him if he wanted me to give her the money.  I explained that I use the word "give" because even if I say "loan" I know we will never see those C-notes ever again.  He is adamant about not giving her anything which means I'll be stuck in the middle of their conflict.  Lucky freaking me!!  All I can say is at least she's clean now so her rants will be a bit more coherent.  Regardless, this will be all my fault.  I am sure of that.  *sigh*