So many new walks with Scraps - it's hard to keep up with them, and so far nothing spectacular. Yet. Oh, except for the fire truck that pulled up as I was taking her for the early morning one block circuit - a woman met the five fireguys who were striding importantly across her junk-strewn front yard ( I imagine she is the bad sheep of the block, as all the nearby homes are all tidy little brick things with happy porches and festive gardens right out of the Sunday Magazine Insert) on the porch declaring that they were called for her, but she had "only been drinking beer and had taken some Excedrine, those guys are drinking and tripping downstairs, you don't have to stay." Meanwhile, Scraps watched carefully as a cop car pulled up to the house, but the cop didn't immediately exit the vehicle as we passed (perhaps he knows to let the Cattle Dog have the right of way)...anyway, all this excitement at 5am on a Tuesday, woohoo!
Also. On the bus (my ride is almost twice as long, though I'm traveling half as far - a moment of silence for the memory of my old route (and ST bus, by the way, which are soooo very posh!) the 570. Now, I'm a victim of Metro again, held captive by the 70-something routes, none of which run an express bus before 7am. WTF? Anyway, my point was going to be to try and capture the dismal scene that played out (like they do) on the bus this morning. Literally, the classic blonde-haired white trash mom and her little boy, about 6 or so, traveling to Renton (nope, dunno why) on their way to the bus tunnel because once Mom gets in the bus tunnel she "knows exactly" where she is.
Well, one would hope so, since everything goes the same way in the tunnel, and it's just a matter of waiting for the bus with the appropriate number to pull up. No pesky streets to suss out, no confusing blocks to navigate...ack.
Sadder still was the story Mom was telling on the bus to her friend across the aisle (the one whose two kids were sitting in the rear of the bus and who claimed ownership of not 2, 3 or even 5 kids - no. This woman claimed to have 8 children. How is that even possible in this day and age in an urban setting and when you are single and unemployed? C'mon now...people, people people.
Right, so what I was saying. Blonde WT Mom was relating about how her son's (whose name was Trevor, it appeared. Ah to be saddled with that nom de jour, ick) father wasn't paying child support and was a deadbeat, and "obviously doesn't care about his child" and she just kept saying it, over and over, while the son was shifting uncomfortably around. I just was so sad for this kid - and not in a "poor guy, no dad" way. But in a "poor kid, he must be sick of listening to his mom bitch and moan". If I learned one thing when I had custody over a kid who grew up hearing nothing but her mom's problems - it's that you shouldn't unload in front of or onto your kid. You just shouldn't do it. They don't deserve that pain or that burned. They aren't your friends, they are your kids. Kids who hear that shit day after day grow up thinking the world is out to get them, and it's up to them to comfort their parents. It is not the kid's job (when they are children) to comfort the adult. Goddamn, I wanted to slap that woman just to shut her up. Her kid seemed bright (I was watching him examine the bus and watch as we passed stuff - he wasn't just staring blankly like I've seen most kids do.
Must run now.