ALERT! Mother worried about my soul…emergency action needed.

Not funny really.  I shouldn’t make light of it.

But truly, mom is a wee bit worried about the state of my heart, as black as it is these days.

I think I may have mentioned it before, but the Grinch has got nothing on me as far as the whole shrunken, blackened heart thing-y goes.

I have always believed in the idea of karma.  If you put something good out there, good will come back to you (eventually…not sure about the whole time limit on that deal…not even sure there is a time limit…but for all intents and purposes–good begets good).  If you put something bad out there, well, then….be prepared for some pretty bad ju-ju to head your way.

That being said, I’ve been flirting the last few days with the idea of actually wishing serious bodily and brain-ily harm on whomever has our dear little Max.

The anger roiling around inside my insides can not be healthy, of this I am sure.  And truth be told, I simply cannot afford the luxury of anger.

BUT, at this point I’m ready to say “the hell with it.  Bring it on baby.”

Which is precisely why my dear mother is worried about the state of my soul.  One should not carry around this much anger and …well, hate.  Ahhhh, hate is such an ugly word.   But I do feel myself dancing around the edges of that very word.

And all because of a dog.  I know, this pales in comparison to what 26 other families are feeling at this very moment.  Something that I cannot even begin to fathom.  Does this begin to put my predicament in perspective?  Maybe.  Possibly.  Will it allow me to get beyond this anger?  The jury’s still out on that one.  I’ll let you know.

So…not really anything new to report on Operation Max.  It’s sort of moved into a wait-and-see sort of thing.  It’s almost like both sides are sitting here, wondering if it’s safe to make a move.  Who will blink first?  Yeah, that’s it…we’re playing chicken.

I’m not good at chicken.  Too damn impatient.

Following me still?  I’m not exactly sure I am anymore, which is always a good sign it’s time to wrap things up.  And this time, there is just no way to bring it around to where it started.  Sorry, not enough brain cells firing tonight to complete the synapses.

About madranchwife

Mother, Mad Ranchwife(as in--at times-- crazy, nutso, loco, off-my-rocker insane), Veterinarian, Physical Therapist, "Liberal, pinko, gay-loving, Subaru-driving Socialist" (as I've been called), proud to be a totally tree-huggin', climate change believin', granola girl environmentalist, ObamaGirl, Pro-Choice (don't even get me started here...), and in my younger days a feminist vegetarian as a result of time spent at CU Boulder (this lasted approximately 14 months, until all the Jimmy Buffett I was listening to caused me to crave a cheeseburger). Now I just get pleasure out of swimming against the stream and ruffling a few feathers here in the wild west state of Wyoming!
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