Chaotic Coffee Klatch (tea also available)

yes, indeed, I've been lucky in my family, most keep it mostly together, then just die. Can't say suddenly as I spend years assuming it will be their last holiday, as really old, but despite bad habits, they just keep going. My MIL had Alzheimer's though, that is rough. I'm not going out like that.
That was my grandmother - it was horrible watching her degrade like that and I was only 13 at the time. She'd refer to me as Roy and it transpired that she'd had a son by that name who passed away around the same age I was. I never knew that - I just knew of my Mom and her 4 sisters. Funny how things like that occur.
 
That was my grandmother - it was horrible watching her degrade like that and I was only 13 at the time. She'd refer to me as Roy and it transpired that she'd had a son by that name who passed away around the same age I was. I never knew that - I just knew of my Mom and her 4 sisters. Funny how things like that occur.
It is odd how things can change though too. Oh the irony. Like MIL nagged for years me about having kids. She was diagnosed when I was pregnant. She is visiting us, my kid is in the baby swing in the corner of the room. And then it happens, she informed me I was really smart to not have kids. sigh. Later, she'd sometimes talk smack about me, to me, because she couldn't tell I was me because she was smack talking young me. My grandfather was also diagnosed. He was an ass, racist, elitest, former judge, cop, military. I actually liked him much better once he forgot he was a racist elitest ass. He handled it much better than she did though mostly. Like not knowing what was going on scared her, he just rolled with whatever until the end, then got real tough because he was still big and strong, and would be trying to arrest "criminals" and shit. He got really hard to house as he broke someones jaw, someones arm, someones eye socket, got loose from a facility and was running around trying to arrest shady people on the street. She was a lot more frail, so placement was much easier.
 
It is odd how things can change though too. Oh the irony. Like MIL nagged for years me about having kids. She was diagnosed when I was pregnant. She is visiting us, my kid is in the baby swing in the corner of the room. And then it happens, she informed me I was really smart to not have kids. sigh. Later, she'd sometimes talk smack about me, to me, because she couldn't tell I was me because she was smack talking young me. My grandfather was also diagnosed. He was an ass, racist, elitest, former judge, cop, military. I actually liked him much better once he forgot he was a racist elitest ass. He handled it much better than she did though mostly. Like not knowing what was going on scared her, he just rolled with whatever until the end, then got real tough because he was still big and strong, and would be trying to arrest "criminals" and shit. He got really hard to house as he broke someones jaw, someones arm, someones eye socket, got loose from a facility and was running around trying to arrest shady people on the street. She was a lot more frail, so placement was much easier.
My son has strict instructions to kill me in any way possible if I lose my mind. I hope that he takes this seriously.
 
I would help you empty the bar, we could dress up fancy together, talk politely to all of those around us but then secretly whisper an alphabet of swear words to each other to keep ourselves amused. Could we also play formal evening bingo? Make up our own list of words that we know somebody will say at some point and race each other to cross them off the list. At the end of the evening when we are that drunk we are almost sliding under the tables, we could swap one shoe each and stagger back to the room singing rude songs at the top of our voices.
You are so my person. Can we please do this!? Puhleeeease
 
I would help you empty the bar, we could dress up fancy together, talk politely to all of those around us but then secretly whisper an alphabet of swear words to each other to keep ourselves amused. Could we also play formal evening bingo? Make up our own list of words that we know somebody will say at some point and race each other to cross them off the list. At the end of the evening when we are that drunk we are almost sliding under the tables, we could swap one shoe each and stagger back to the room singing rude songs at the top of our voices.
Glad to hear I'm not the only person who makes up buzzword bingo for pretty much every situation. I'm a bit concerned that you appear to have described how most of my working days used to end...
 
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