Vivian is All of Us, We Are All Vivian
I think I have this problem where if I am in crisis, I don't want to blog about it until the crisis is resolved and I can tie it up in a single post with a witty bow on it. I am aware anyway that this is not really how life or blogging really works, but never has this been more apparent than in the past few months. Apart from the little fires of parenting and being the child of aging parents, there's -- *gestures broadly at everything* -- so, here I am, in varying degrees of varying crises, to share some fragmented thoughts and stories, with the caveat that my family tends to deal with grief and stress by deploying inappropriate humour, and not everyone finds us as charming and hilarious as we find ourselves. So my dad fell down a few stairs while trying to put away the vacuum cleaner (like I always say, housework is ass, don't do it, it's dangerous). He couldn't put any weight on his right leg, and my mom was scared he'd broken his hip. He has back pain issues