Some mornings you wake up to the alarm angrily going off in your ear. Some mornings you wake up to a child staring you awake. Other mornings you wake up to your FIL panicking because his son to whom you are not married has been shot. That's a weird morning.

Most nights, I sleep on the sofa because my husband snores likes a freight train, tosses and turns ALL NIGHT and is a cover stealer. Oh yeah, and if I'm asleep when he comes to bed he'll wake me up to tell me about what he just watched on a hunting show. That is not a euphemism for something dirty. It's the sad, bleak, honest to God truth. 

Sometimes the FIL doesn't know I'm on the sofa because my sofa is red and I sleep on a red pillow and cover up with a red blanket. It's like my own fancy cammo. We've had a few situations I'd rather block out due to this arrangement-like I never, ever want to see him stroll through the house in the middle of the night when he thinks everyone is in bed in his underwear. Ever. Again.

But this morning, it was a whole different ball of wax. He came in the living on his phone, sounding a little panicked and said, "I guess he must still be asleep," to whomever he was speaking and quickly got off the phone. 

So I was like, "What's up PaPaw? Do you need something? Do you feel okay?"

" I need to go to GP because J- got shot last night." 

Hmmm, I just thought he wanted some Dr. Pepper and biscuits and needed a ride to the store. 

And, oddly, when those are the first words one hears in the morning, words sometimes can't make it from one's brain to one's mouth. Or else they come out like this:

"Holy shit. Is he dead?" Uh, there is a kinder, gentler way to ask a dying man if his son is dead, in case you were wondering. I'll let you know as soon as I figure it out.

"Is he in the hospital? Is he okay? Was it a drive-by? Were drugs involved? Is he going to jail? I think I'll make some biscuits." 

Yeah, if you need someone to comfort you in your time of fear, don't bark up this tree. 

Turns out he's fine. He got shot in the thigh with a .45 and it came out right above his butt crack. It was at a party by someone in a rival biker gang (because apparently I've got this whole Sons of Anarchy thing going on I was unaware of) who is currently in jail but not for the shooting. 

My brother-in-law wouldn't sign some paper to have him face charges for the shooting due to some Biker Gang Code, which I suspect is much like a sorority creed.

So, I don't really think there's much of a chance of hanging out with
my brother-in-law because I'd probably end up wearing the
wrong color and end up getting shot just because I wanted
to wear something that made my eyes really blue.
And I can't tell them my sorority creed because it's a
secret and my bet is none of them were Phi Mu's.

When my FIL and NJ got back from visiting him, I asked the FIL if he found out what started the fight that led to the shooting. He said too much booze and guns.

To which I replied, "That's almost exactly how I got Grace. Minus the guns, of course."

He just nodded his head and said, "It happens." 

I love how he doesn't judge me.