Hello, there; it's your pal Phil here in Milborough with some long-expected bad news. As you all already know, my dad died last week after a long illness. Fortunately for all of us, he went out classy; he didn't feel it was right to have Iris stand there watching him die and I sort of agree with him. If I were a more sentimental man, I'd console myself with the notion that he and Mom danced their way to the Other Side. What I can console myself with is that his decision to donate his remains to science might do someone with aphasia a solid years down the road. I just hope that Sis doesn't raise a huge stink about things at his memorial service this month because he changed his funeral plans without running it by her first. I never did dig why El thought everyone would want their urns jammed together in the same spot in the first place; I don't like living cheek-by-jowl now so the idea of their spending eternity all bunched up together gives me the wicked jeebies. Let's just say that the idea smells like too-gooey cinnamon buns and overpriced coffee.
Speaking of Anthony and Liz, it seems to me that their marriage is slowly falling to bits. That's because Liz is spending too much of her time complaining about the dreary sap to realize that he isn't really the problem. The problem is that she was forced to keep silent too damned long and all that bottled-up rage is spilling out all over the poor sap with Asperger's; she claims to know that he does have problems but her brain and her heart aren't singing in key, if you catch my drift. Since the rest of the family seems to see him as the cylinder that isn't firing, his good intentions will probably get washed away in a tidal wave of Patterson rage.
This is, of course, because he doesn't realize that he's the Designated Fall-Guy who it's safe to yell at because John and Elly are too out of it to receive their rightful slice of the blame pie. Heck, he doesn't even realize that John is as daffy as Sis is so he'll be bouncing around on his rump 'cause he's got both feet in his mouth. This is sort of a shame because he's pretty much the only help I have in handling the arrangements. Mike and April are trying their darnedest to help but, since they were a) raised by the last of the big-time spendthrifts and b) they can only show up for the weekend of the service, they really can't be of too much assistance. I also don't want to rope Deanna into things given that Robin's needs come first. Therefore, things fall on Anthony's sloped shoulders as he makes all his helpful little suggestions. I just hope that there aren't too many surprises in store or that whatever instructions Iris gave April don't ruffle any feathers; the last thing we need is more drama.
April, for one, could do without any more drama. Not only has she lost the only member of the family who was there for her during what the Sobinskis call the Housening, she's got to deal with the big load of bullcrap John and Elly's insanity has left her with; at least her pal Shannon is going to be hanging out with her on the farm. Also, if Liz doesn't stop apologizing for the whole harmonica fiasco, Apes just might pop her one.
That being said, I hope you're having a better summer than we are; I'll let you know if they have to haul Elly off in a strait-jacket this time next month.