"...Mothers, tell your children, not to do the things I've done..." -House of the Rising Sun
I ate to the point of pain. And then I kept eating.
Food is love. I was almost loved to death last night.
Jerry is still working. It gives him purpose. His firm is migrating from one platform to another and he is instrumental in that effort. I am purposefully being vague.
Consequently, most of today will be spent with Ducky.
Once again I luck out. Ducky's inseparable friend had a falling out with Ducky. That leaves Ducky without a key support.
Ducky's friend is crazy, and not in a good way. Long-run, Ducky is better to not have her in the gondola of the hot-air balloon but transitions are hard even when your husband is fighting the Big C.
I am looking forward to spending time with Ducky and the incomparable Mrs ERC without Ducky's tagalong Borderline Personality Disorder friend. Mz BPD was one of the reasons I had been dreading this trip, and now she is a total non-issue.
Not talking to the cops
Exercising one's right to not incriminate one's self has been a topic over the last month in our corner of the internet.
"I had the right to remain silent, but being Irish, I did not have the ability"
The crowd Ducky and Jerry hang out with are proudly progressive. One trick used by interrogators is to say something that elicits a desire to defend or rationalize a behavior. So I pushed my "mute" button and practiced not saying something.
When I had to say something (as a matter of social lubricity) I asked a question. People LOVE to be asked their opinion, even if it is as simple as "I am not sure that is the best way to ask that question. How would YOU reframe it?" turning to the person sitting next to me.
So far it is working pretty well but it is clear I need more practice.