WTF Not . . .

I’ve finally figured it out. It’s taken me countless hours of driving Albuquerque’s freeways, but I’ve finally figured it out. What was it Sherlock Holmes used to say? Something like “When you’ve eliminated all suspects, it has to be the obvious one.” (Okay, I paraphrased, get over it.)

It’s something so totally inexplicable, so utterly confounding, that I just couldn’t see the forest for the trees. Every day and every evening, going to work and going home, the traffic on the freeway comes to a dead stop.

Nobody. Phuquing. Moves.

Stopped. Dead.

Inching along at less than a snail’s pace. Stop. Inch a little more. Stop. Ten miles and an hour later, as you head for your exit—on which, by the way, traffic is also inching along—you haven’t seen one bloody thing that might have caused ANYbody to slow down, much less stop.

I exaggerate. On some days, someone might have a flat tire and everybody has to slow down to gawk. Or some poor soul got pulled over (for what is anybody’s guess since nobody’s going over 0.5 miles per hour) and everybody has to stop and make sure it’s not someone they know. But, those occasions are becoming a rarity. Entertainment almost. At least you can growl under your breath about people not minding their own business.

One day I had an epiphany. I figured it out. Each and every utility user of the greater Albuquerque metropolitan area (don’t laugh) receives a post card in the mail from the Traffic Division. It reads, to wit:

“The week of (insert week ending date), you are hereby assigned to stop, slow down, or otherwise disrupt the smooth flow of traffic on either Interstate 25 and / or Interstate 40 at least twice during the week, once in one direction and once in the return direction. It is your duty as a citizen of this great town. Failure to comply with this assignment will result in revocation of your freedom to buy alcoholic beverages for a minimum of 30 days or utility use for 120 days (depending upon the going utility rates).

“You drive and don’t stop, you lose happy hour or your lights.”

This *has* to be what’s happening. Nothing else makes sense.

I can’t wait until I get my card! I think I’ll try driving the speed limit. . . After all, I don’t drink, and the utility company has shut me off once already this year… WTF not.

A New Beginning

Well, it's all over. I have permanent custody of my granddaughter. We can start working on making things real.

Her mother didn't even show. Now, if she reappears and decides she wants her daughter, she'll have to do all the things the court wanted her to do in the first place.

Bre is having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that her mother has disappeared again. Her mother has done this so very many times, only this time has been the longest. She's finally let go of the fact that "Mommy promised she'd buy me some new shoes" and that's not going to happen. Now, she occassionally points to her feet and insists she needs new shoes and we must simply go get them (never mind she's gotten two new pairs from Nana since Mommy's promise, she still needs them). When fall arrives, she'll get another pair or two and perhaps that will satisfy her.

All in all, it happened a lot quicker than I expected, a lot slower than I wanted, but we're done.

Helluva birthday present for me, huh?

Excuse me while I dance in my chair and hum a happy tune.

-*poof*-

Yeah, you read that right: -*poof*-

That's what appears to have happened to Bre's mother. Had some minor issues with visitation; she didn't seem to understand the English the judge spoke quite plainly three times about how she had to be under a doctor's care and taking her meds and have a place to live before she could start unsupervised visits. When my attorney finally got it through to her (after an illegal attempt at a visit), she just -- -*poof*-ed. Vanished. No calls, no visits, not even a stinking flower.

She didn't show up for court-ordered mediation (which I thought was a pretty lousy idea anyway, but the judge doesn't know Bre's mother).

Monday, August 7 is our next hearing. Wonder what will happen when she doesn't show for that.

...Course I know better than to even be thinking along those lines. She manages to surprise us all once in a while. She'll probably show up just for the aggravation factor. 'Course what she doesn't get is that most judges don't like aggravation.

This could get interesting . . .

Optimism in a Cynic's Life

Lessee, it was a couple posts ago, when Breanna was brought back home, that I'd said something truly silly like, "Only one more hearing and . . . "

Most of the folks I'm aware of who read this are true cynics and must've chuckled under their collective breath upon reading that goofy little phrase.

Because, of course, in the legal world, there's no such thing as "one more hearing."

Yeah. That'll happen.

Well, it's been two so far and one more scheduled for next month, and Bre's mother has shown the courts and attorneys the behavior our family has endured for the last four years. At this particular point, we're going through all the legal motions, doing all the things required by the legal system, biding our time until finally, someone -- hopefully the judge -- will decide enough is enough and allow Bre and me to forge some kind of life together.

In the meantime, after Bre's begging for weeks, Nana bought the little stinker a water play table and, along with the sandbox, she spends hours now making herself a gritty muddy mess. She's almost delirious, she's so happy.

This isn't to say we don't have our four-year-old issues; we do. And she's got some abandonment issues that aren't just going to fade away, but she's happy and Nana's happy to know she safe and happy and there's this whole army of people who love her and are standing behind her.

It won't be long and I'll be back to my gritching about the world and my place in it. I'm just taking the time right now to make sure the nest I'm building is good and big and strong and will securely hold a growing girl. Don't want her falling out any more, do we?

Slowly Coming Back to Life

Re-posting the blog after changing web hosting plans. Funny how attorney's fees can change the quality of life . . .

Was That a Sigh of Relief?

Well, folks, we found her. A little rough around the edges, a little dirtier for the wear, and a health issue we'll be dealing with for a while (one that's personal, even for a bitty girl).

BUT SHE'S HOME! Flying from Albuquerque to Phoenix to Omaha, then jumping into a rented minivan (thanks, Thrifty, for that appreciated upgrade!) to drive seven hours to meet with the attorney in Fargo, then another hour to attend a court hearing; then THANK GAWD! seeing her again, and holding her, and smelling her little-kid hair, and checking out every part and parcel of her for damage and holding her some more . . .

Then the long drive back in the biggest and worst rain storm I've EVER encountered and watching her excited face as we got on the plane in Omaha, and her grin and white-knuckled grip on the arm rests as the plane went fast and fast and loud and loud and up and up and oh! Look Nana! The clouds!

She's home and all the people who love her are loving her. And she's happy. And we're happy.

One more hearing, we hope. Just one more. And we can take the first step to making this permanent.

Thanks to all for the emnotional support, the financial support, and all the prayers to all the deities. Every last one of 'em helped.

Help Find Breanna!!

Promised link is in the sidebar: "Help Find Breanna!"

We've hired a private dick and a lawyer and lots of people are working furiously to find her.

It's getting very expensive, and I may put a PalPal Donations button on Breanna's page.

We miss her.

This is painful.