My dear Joon...

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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Sun May 14, 2017 3:17 pm

Happy Mother's Day! :D My present is going to be mushu pork and steamed dumplings for lunch! What are the simple joys of mommyhood?

Apologies to Rodgers & Hammerstein. But Guinevere never had it so good. No Michael today, but that's how it's been. Because of the way we've set up the visits, he's here on Father's Day, and I think that's more important. He adores his daddy so much. When we go to devotions, and Duane has a prayer or reading, Mike just grins from ear to ear. I think he just loves his father's voice, which has a baritone timbre to it. I wouldn't mind hearing it more myself - the Honey being what he is, the soul of brevity, but I digress.

I almost got a job yesterday. There's three sisters that live a short distance from Nan, and only one of them is able-bodied. I've changed their names, so that I can tell the tale and keep their privacy. She's taking care of the other two, and really needs help. And I told Rita, the caregiving sister, that I can do colostomy care, bathe and put her sisters through range of motion. And as long as they can help, by say, pulling themselves to the side by using the rails, I can change the sheets, give whatever meds she can give now, pretty much whatever she's capable of. What I can't do is lift - and that's what she really needs.

All these ladies are about 5 feet tall; I can lean against the bed, and do all of those tasks standing, but I just can't raise them up. And I hate to say it, in this 21st Century that everybody's so on about, but racism is still alive and well in the healthcare community. Really, I kid you not. And I know Rita isn't exaggerating, I've seen some of this behavior first hand. I am so mad. In fact, the one that needs the most attention, fell. Nona - she fell! On the very day that she was being sent home.

She'd broken her hip weeks earlier and was kept for rehab after surgery. As soon as she was released, she was taken to the car, and somehow, dropped to the ground. Instead of the home keeping her and x-raying that hip (Nona's also got osteoarthritis on top of MS), they insisted she was fine. Now in all fairness to Rita - because sometimes it just doesn't occur to you at the moment; I've got loads of regrets and rethinks of how I handled stuff - she could have taken Nona to the hospital herself. But, like I said, it doesn't always come to mind just what to do. There's also Laura Rae, who is diabetic; she fell asleep during Duane and my visit. I don't know how much she can do on her own, but Nona was in a lot of pain. I couldn't even help to get her changed. Nan had gone to pick up a friend who has more physical ability to do lifting, but has no transportation. It wasn't until after we'd left that she got back; Rita took us to our car up the road.

I don't know if I'll ever be called, to maybe sit with them so that Rita can get some time to herself. I would be happy to do that. We'll just have to wait and see. I wasn't familiar with Nona's meds, and didn't know that the one drug had a narcotic component to it, but apparently she wasn't getting enough of it. It's one per day, then every six hours for pain. I found out later that she wasn't getting the every six, just the one. Makes a big difference. I also thought a heating pad on low, to the affected hip might help - 20 minutes on, 20 minutes off. I wish I could do more. I really like hands on care.

It's a lot like how guys like vacuuming? You can see the results right away, that's what makes it so rewarding. That's I feel about nursing. Real nursing - where you get your hands on the person, and feed that skin hunger. That's why I can't say enough about back rubs. Not over-all massages, but just a simple from shoulders to hips, with a pressure the patient has picked herself, for five minutes. They'd fall right to sleep; I'd see it over and over again. You require less pain medication, because your own endorphins kick in. It's that simple...

Well, it's 11 AM. I've had breakfast, and AM JOY is on the telly. I fully intend to give the utmost respect and adoration to the piggy who made the ultimate sacrifice for today's lunch. Generously slathered by plum sauce and swaddled in rice pancakes, t'is a far, far better thing it does than it would ever do; t'is a far, far better rest it goes to than it will ever know.


Bon appetit!
sara
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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Mon May 15, 2017 10:47 pm

Dear Elderly White Gentlemen (who have stopped me and asked if they could pray over me),

Three times in as many weeks, I've been detained by you. My tremor caught your attention, and you wanted to help, so you asked if you could pray over me. Maybe it was my fault because I greeted you, just a smile and a simple hello, and that gave you an opening. But whatever the case, you made the request and I agreed.

In every situation, it was brief. Today was a bit different, because this particular time, Jeremiah 30:17 was quoted - with the word tremors exchanged for wounds - and "...in Jesus' name, do you accept this?" I replied, "O Thou Glory of the Most Glorious - thank you." Maybe I shouldn't have. But once I'm asked, 'can I pray over/with you?' I don't want to be rude. So I say yes. Now you were taken aback by the Arabic invocation, but I meant well, just as well as you did. I wonder though, why it's always been older white guys who are doing this?

It's been happening for a long time. At least since 2011, when this really took off, and became noticeable. I was using a cane by then, and say, once every couple of years, I'd have somebody stop me. Today I was wearing my Franciscan/Tau cross, as I do everyday, and in the company of another piece, depending on whether it's an anniversary of Richard III's, or in honor of Giles Corey, or a Baha'i Holy Day. This time it was the clear fused glass that became the Talisman in my story. It's my favorite, after my ruby-red glass heart from Guatemala. It has the Greatest Name etched into it. Anyway, you said, "Oh, you're a Christian."

The Tau slowed you down, but you probably thought, I'm already invested, and on you went. You are old enough to be my dad. Lately, I've found that there aren't a lot of guys I can say that about, being 62 myself, and I do honor my elders - of which there are fewer every passing day. And it will probably not surprise you to know that my tremors are still in full vigor, in spite of Jeremiah and Jesus, but that's okay. Or maybe it might, depending on how much you are into doing this.

Anyway, you annoyed me. I hope I didn't show it, because I think you were/are sincere. But sometimes, it might be good to know that healing isn't always on the outside. That's something that some churches and by extension, their ministers and parishioners, don't get. Years ago, one of Michael's classmates was taken by his mom to a new house of worship, and was welcomed into the sacristy. Both the pastor and his associate put hands on Travis and demanded that God heal him. Now, they meant well, but they told Donna that it didn't work because she "obviously didn't believe (hard enough)..."

I hope you aren't like that. I hope none of you are like this. And in my writing, I've remembered people - women - who have given me prayer cards inside other cards, have recommended Saint Philomena (a patron of lost causes, among other things), and I've read The Long Healing Prayer of my own faith. I take meds that have helped keep some of this in check, but I don't expect it to ever go away. And isn't it better to be happy and doing the best I can, even in this state? Isn't that a kind of healing? Isn't that an example of faith?

I think so. A long time ago, when I was 16, I worked in a nursing home and one of my favorite patients was Agnes. I always took care of Agnes, no matter where I was stationed for my shift; my co-workers would take one of mine, but I said no. I didn't need to trade; I just wanted to take care of her.

Agnes wasn't elderly. I think she was in her forties, and she was small. Her body was very twisted, a bit like Picasso's Guitarist, nothing but contractures, and her complexion was sallow. It was difficult to get her on the bedpan, but it was better than having an indwelling cath; too great a chance for infection. She was named for the Roman saint, who lived late 200-early 300 AD. That Agnes' story is a bit of a stretch, but it's told that she was a beautiful young girl of wealthy family. Legend holds that young men, suitors who were slighted by her 'resolute devotion to religious purity, submitted her name to the authorities as a follower of Christianity'. She was put through some humiliating punishments, which she survived through miraculous escapes, finally culminating in her martyrdom.

Anyway, my Agnes was the sweetest person I've ever known. Even all these years later, there's a few that come close, but not like her. She loved Baby Jesus, He was all she talked about. I never knew anybody who had more stories about Him, and you won't find them in the Bible. I don't know where she got them from, because I can't find them in The Apocrypha either, because these had to do with being a loving, sweet little boy from birth to toddlerhood.

So, her birthday was coming and I bought her an Infant of Prague. He was all plastic. He had a very chubby face, and the cutest smile. I told them about Agnes, and we went through their whole catalog of Baby Jesus'. He had to be closer to babyhood than most, and I was so glad they had this little plastic one in a red robe. Actually, he'd been there for years, and they finally kept him on a desk in the back, because everybody wanted the ceramic ones with the cloth vestments. That would have been a disaster if they were dropped, but not him. It was just as though he was waiting for her.

So I bought him, the store wrapped up the box, and I took it with me to work. She was thrilled. We found a way for her to sleep with him, by putting a pillow between the Baby and her siderail. Two weeks later, on my weekend off, she died. When she smiled, I swear you couldn't see the pretzel limbs, the crooked back. All you saw was her joy. I missed her funeral. She died on day shift Saturday, and was already buried come Monday night, when I was back to work. Everybody on 11-7, thought I knew she was gone, and the gangs on the other shifts, didn't know anything about this what she meant to me. I didn't ask but I hope she was able to take Baby Jesus with her...

So, I realize now that I should thank you, for reminding me of her. Sometimes it takes writing for me to get to the point of what matters. I'm not annoyed anymore with you, sir, and the next time anyone of you wants to pray over me, I'll be grateful that you took the time to do so. That's what Agnes would do. She wouldn't need it, but she would understand your need, which I didn't. Not until now.

Thank you, sirs. And thank you, Agnes. Thank you.


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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Fri May 19, 2017 11:59 am

The Agency on Aging sent someone out to me yesterday. I'd called last week, to see if I'd be eligible and she said she'd be here between 1 and 2. It was 12:50...

This lady was unnerving to say the least. She asked if she could use our bathroom, and kept thanking me for letting her. She also wanted to know if we had bedbugs and would not wipe her hands on my freshly-laundered hand towels; she grabbed a paper sheet from the kitchen instead. All the time she was asking me questions, she was checking to see if spiders were on her, asking me to look and make sure there were none. Now, my God, I've never seen anybody who was supposed to be in a professional capacity act like this :/ .

Anyway, I am too independent for their services, and my copay would be 100%. But I could get Meals on Wheels, and an emergency beeper - maybe. That's okay, I said. Really? Because you can get those. No, I said. I'm good. And that's the second time in three years that I've asked for them to assess me, and, AGAIN, they are more interested in helping Duane, who doesn't want their help. It's because he has the disabled label, and that makes him a shoo-in. He doesn't want company (besides me), he doesn't want to go out (without me), and he's not interested in 'making new friends'; all of those things are life's blood to me. But I'm not even eligible for a companion to accompany me to Walmart, according to Ms. Bedbug.

I'm really not sorry I called for this. It helps me to get things in perspective. You literally find out what your strengths are by having a total stranger ask you what you can and can't do.

My grocery store is closing in a couple of weeks. Yesterday morning I tried to fill my kitchen with staples, and everything's been picked over. Most of the stuff I depend on is long gone, and in the course of trying to find what we need, my blood sugar dipped and Jess grabbed me a cookie from behind the bakery window. Two bites would probably have done it, but who throws away 2/3rds of a cookie? Not this girl, but I should have. My BS spiked, and I was sweating like a thoroughbred. Btw, I try to make sure that I've used the words 'blood sugar' in the post before abbreviating it, since I've been told that BS spikes tend to define me.

Otherwise things are going apace. I made sure to get atop my infirmarian job today, and the first birthday card of the month is ready to mail. I've unhooked the laptop from the outlet and the battery just now warned me it's about to go dark.

Enjoy your Friday, my joons!
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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Sat May 20, 2017 1:23 pm

The water heater broke...

Got up this morning, was washing a load upstairs, and tried to take a quick shower while I waited. Well, I didn't wait long, and it was quicker than most. It just never warmed up. Of course, it would be a Saturday morning. Of course. I think the unit's 16 years old; we had to replace one some years ago. *sigh* You couldn't wait until we were out of here, could you? Ya dawg. So, I'm thinking that's another 1,500.00 conservatively. We don't have it, unless you count the credit cards.

'He-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed', and I don't mean the Lord and Savior, is still out of town and won't be back until next week. Now I did get another increase on my one MasterCard (you are such a good customer, Mrs. Dawson!) I try to be, in spite of you bank guys. The genesis for that must be Duane's opening of his own account, but that's just speculation.

Anyway, the wash is finished, and since the laundry room has its own water heater, that was okay. Though I could wash in cold - no problem with that. Tomorrow Michael will visit and we thought we might go and see the place we're interested in. There's no guarantee we'll get it, and with 31 pages of problems, that remains to be seen. There is a couple who has put a bid on it, but they're in a waiting game with FHA; among the issues with the original owners, are unpaid condo-fees. Which, btw, we need to pay this month's here.

Since there's been a property takeover from the owners, the new lairds want their money by the month. They've even given us all addressed envelopes to speed that along. But right now, with all of the medical and dental bills accrued by the Honey, the budget is kaput. I have enough in checking to keep it open, but I'll pay with the credit cards so that it doesn't go any lower.

Funny, I don't feel richer. Probably because it's come to my attention, that the darling of my heart has signed a contract allowing HWMBO to handle his money. To the tune of 250 bucks an hour - in 10 minute increments. There is also a legal aide - HWMBO's wife - who will be earning $100.00 per. Now, this would mean, according to H-0, that we would be getting an allowance, and quite hearty, too, if you can believe the number, for some 20 years. He wants to make it 25. We should all live so long. And it remains to be seen if we'll have to wait on checks or if he now believes in direct deposit.

It's comforting to know that we won't be destitute...I guess.


sara
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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Sun May 21, 2017 3:55 am

Had a rough session with the study circle today...

We were on pages 81-86, in Epistle to the Son of the Wolf, and Baha'u'llah was remembering all the times when people had been cruel to His followers, and how steadfast they were. And also some who had been accused of believing in Him were so terrified that they said and did awful things to prove that they weren't. And I lost it.

I just bawled like a baby. It upset Duane - he gets angry with me for this - but the others said, no. And they listened. For the first time, people really listened. Now, Duane, was like I said, and Alyss could not stop butting in and disrupting my chain of thought, but the others quieted them and for the first time, I was heard out.

You can't imagine how that feels to be verified. Justice is everything to me, everything. The best-beloved in the sight of God, and what brings forth the appearance of Unity. Oh, man...

I can't go into it, it's too late, and even if I find the time tomorrow, I don't think I can write it out. Anyway, Mike's coming, and we still have no hot water. I've figured out how I'm going to take a bath in the morning - I just have to get through, though we may not have a service call until later in the week; I sure hope that's not the case. The Realtor gave me the name of someone she trusts, and I called them. I also got a call in to the Heating/Air guys with a coupon from Angie's List for the air conditioner. In six months, I trust we'll be out of here. I didn't want to make an emergency call, still being in peasant mode, as it were. But it's a comfort to have the doubled line of credit so that I can pay the plumber immediately.

*sigh*

So tired. Probably because of the walnut brownies and butter pecan ice cream. That was supper. The stress of living under this insult to the government has gone from fear to anger to numb. I am so sorry and ashamed. I didn't do anything to make it happen; I voted for the other folks, straight ticket. At least the man with the little blue pickup has taken off his tea-party license plate.

He only took it off because he finally realizes that he's not getting his wall, or his Muslim ban, his coal job back in the Kentucky hills or prison time for Secretary Clinton. I'm sorry for him, and everybody like him; it must have just killed him to see Trump having coffee with the Saudi Royals this morning.

Those ball caps with the Make America... are gone. Signs are gone. Bumper stickers are very few and far between. I just want to give them a hug, and splash a banner across my rear window that says, Now Do You Believe Me?, but that wouldn't be nice. Also I like my car windows intact.

It's midnight, and I have to go to sleep.


Night, joon-ams
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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Mon May 22, 2017 2:00 am

We went to see the condo today. It's just off the interstate, around the corner from the mall. We'd driven past it loads of times without knowing.

It's one of three, stitched together to form an open cube with a tiny courtyard, the one on the right. Number 1276. We couldn't go in, so we tooled around the parking lot for a bit. It's a cute complex. All of the units are single floor, and we can park right in front of this one. The photos are bare of foliage, but then it was put on the market in February; now there's a couple of rose bushes beside the door, and there are storm windows with the blinds inside - they look new. It bothers me that the mailboxes are those little cubbies, about a dozen stuck together, but we can grab the mail as we're coming home.

Michael wasn't impressed. He got upset, and kept tapping me on the head. I did manage to stop the car and run him into the McDonald's bathroom - the ladies one, which is always dicey to do. And this Mickey-D's was full to the brim. Luckily there was only one other person in there and they never saw Mike. It didn't matter, though. He kept screeching at me the whole time.

I'm sure he was right to be so righteously angry, but I'll be damned if I know why. He just gets like that in public, and I thank God that most people can't see me because he towers so high above. We went to the mall for a walk before lunch; after Wendy's we went home, I kissed him on the head, and got to rest almost an hour before my Franciscan meeting...

Oh, I forgot to tell you about the bath. I thought it would be like getting in the pool. The water's cold at first, but you adjust, right? Unfortunately, that was not the case. Most of me was okay with it, but my particulars - which in the past, I have shared quite happily with the Honey, and only reluctantly with the ob/gyn crowd - could not get warm. I felt for hours afterwards, that I was trying to hatch an iceberg. I mean, geeze-louise! It was so cold down there! The bath was at 8:45 AM, and my teeth were still chattering at a quarter after 10! So, what do I do about tomorrow?

Duane had decided to skip the whole bathing thing tonight. The plumber opens at 7:30 tomorrow, so we'll be waiting at home until I know I have an appointment lined up. There's a pool on the property; we can use the showers in there, I'm sure. We have in the past, so I don't see why not.

Anyway, I'm sorry this is so disjointed tonight. I'm so hungry right now, and there are eggs waiting in the fridge for me. Take care of youse.


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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Thu May 25, 2017 1:47 am

The good news is we've gotten our new water heater. The bad is that there is leaking into the downstairs unit, the dripping is a day old, and I found out about it as we were driving away to the appointment with the trustee.

So, I'm out of the car, in to see the damage, call back the plumber, give my house key to the affected neighbor, and we drive the hour it takes to get to where we're going. Once there, I call Allstate, and find a friend to sit in our place until we get home (it's times like this that it would be wonderful if I could leave the cat in charge.) Anyway, what we had was a very good meeting; there's a loosening of the cost to us to our new home, and the Honey got a portion of his inheritance to deposit in his account.

So we get back, and it seems that the valve wasn't closed completely. It's probably the original 1969, as seen from its gorgeous green patina, and it's too corroded to trust anymore. I'm glad the heater was okay, and the valve is shut off now, but it's got to be replaced. Also another bit that dates from that same time, looks like it's about to blow; the guys won't be able to come back until next Friday to fix that, and I need to call the office tomorrow to see just how far the water needs to be shut off to do these repairs (the whole building, half-a-building, or just us - we will see.)

In the meantime, I've been looking for a new home for us, and have found some nice ones. sans stairs but complete with washer/dryer. I still don't know what to do with my LOTR action figures...

I can't imagine boxing them all up and moving them to the new place, only to have to mount them on the walls again. I love them dearly, and I can still remember the glee I felt finding them at my local Toys R Us, Target, Meijer, WalMart, Ebay. Oh the joy, the rapture, in snatching down the best looking paint-job on Gothmog, or finding a whole horde of Smeagols - tens of them! - drooling over the Ring. The day I found Theodred, son of Theoden, was incredible. I never expected there to be an action figure of him. I mean, why would you? He never opens his eyes, he has no lines, and he's dead before you can say "Simbelmynë." But here he is, to my right, on the wall, right next to Gate of Mordor Sam, and just above Eomer. He stands there, helmet on, sword over his head, eyes wide open, and his abdomen cracked from an Orc's scimitar. You can bend his head down to his chest, cross his arms and perform your own Rohanian funeral, if you're so inclined (he's quite poseable; this I have observed through the clear plastic cover which pins him to his brown TWIN TOWERS card.) But, I just can't do it again. I'm too old, too unstable on my gams to climb ladders, and maybe they should go to another home.

*sigh* So, tomorrow I'm taking the most damaged, carded figure - The Twilight Ringwraith - to the local games & other assorted goodies shop and ask if anyone can help me transport the rest. That is if they'll buy them from me. I do want to keep a few things, but it's time.

Anyway, good night. It's almost ten, and I am kaput. Love you all. Be good.

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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Fri May 26, 2017 3:04 pm

I never got the Ringwraith out of the house, but that's okay - for now.

We're going out to look at 3 or 4 condos on Sunday. I'm excited, but a bit concerned. The trustee wants us settled by August; the realtor sees us moved by the end of June. My biggest worry is that I'm being peppered with questions by the realtor that I have no answers for, mainly because the trustee does. I don't understand a fraction of this.

When we bought this place back in 1991, my parents gave us 2000 dollars. That was our earnest money. The seller paid the closing costs and the whole thing was pretty easy. Now it seems like there's all this hubbub, and I'm lost. She's telling me a lot of things (mainly that she doesn't approve of the way the trustee is handling this.) My solution: talk to him. Call him. He's handling the purchase; well, that's not satisfactory in her world. Why won't people just listen and believe you when you tell them that you have no power? I'm just along for the ride.

The will and everything with it is Duane's. It's mine, if/when, God forbid!, he dies. I can give my opinion, but nobody has to listen, and most of the time, they don't. I do like this lady. I'm not sorry I chose her because I'm sure of her character. But it is her character that is having trouble with the way things are being handled; the purchase is being made through the trust, and that's all there is to it.

Are the funds going to be available? she's asking. What about the closing? Who is signing the deed? I don't know, I answer. You need to ask him. It doesn't help me to tell me how many sales you've made over the decades, and it also doesn't help to remind me that we're adults, and that we should be having the control. I don't think she understands the role of the fiduciary, and the fact that this was all arranged this way to protect my husband and his brothers. None of us knew how any of this would end - well, how could we?

A lot of the trouble I've had over the years has come from people not wanting to speak directly to the folks with the knowledge. I wouldn't be a bit surprised to find that my disability has its roots in being made the go-between. This morning, the plumber called with an appointment for next week. I gave the scheduler the phone number for my complex's office, so that they can find out how far they have to go to shut off the water, in order to do the repairs. And they're doing that, no argument.

Anyway, she was trying to get me to repeat a phrase from her language and I kept flubbing it. The next thing I knew I was in full-fledged tremor, and that's when we ended the call. I'm hoping that that'll be the last time it happens.

Well, it's just gone 11 AM. I've done with the laundry, and now I need to take care of me. Today I've got a stack of bills, Franciscan birthday cards, and one Get Well card to mail. Then we're out to lunch and I can take the rest of the day easy :) .


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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Sun May 28, 2017 2:35 am

I found it! And I called the trustee and told him how much it is. (90k)

I found the condo I want! I wantwantwantwantwantwant this! Two bedrooms, two full baths, a covered patio so we can eat outside, an attached garage for Girlfriend, and all the appliances, including washer and dryer!

It is the last home I will ever need, and I won't give it up without a fight!

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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Wed May 31, 2017 8:38 am

It's not happening :( ...

We truly loved the place - I did more than the Honey - but the way the trustee is going about this, isn't at all reassuring. He initially stated we should find a home for 55k, and there were some close to us that we could have had. However, he went on a five week vacation, and all of those homes were snapped up, a dozen of them; they all needed some work, but it would have been doable. Now, we find that he's done absolutely no work on Duane's brothers' trusts. Lloyd died in 2010, and his funds have not been turned over to Duane. He wants to set up another trust, one for Duane, for 5,000 dollars, saying it will take at least another month or two to do that. There is no ready cash to buy any place outright; he's talking down-payment, when people are literally making cash buys.

Yesterday, we got our A/C tuned up, and the plumber was back to replace the original 1969 pipes and valves in the kitchen. So why should we move right now? What's the hurry? My tremor has gone up several notches, what with the pressure I feel under the broker and now being told that this new trust is going to cost that much? I wanted Duane to listen to Lester on the phone, but he lost interest (said it was taking too long), and went back to his computer. So, I'm telling him all that I've heard - including that L_ wants the broker to get him five answers and call him at 9 AM.

Well, that went over like a lead balloon, and by the time she got done grousing about it, I thought to myself, That's it. I'm staying here until I'm 65. That's close to thirty months. Then I'll be on Medicare and all these costly precautions to protect Duane's inheritance won't be necessary. We don't have ready access to that money - we never have - and God only knows when we will. The major debt has been paid off by the trustee (which was what was keeping us down), and I finally have the budget I'd been striving for. So I talked to Duane...

"YOU keep changing Your mind!" he says.
"YOU didn't stay on the phone with me, and hear everything I was told. If I knew any of this in April, I would have enjoyed the month a whole lot more. In fact, this ruined May, too!" He gets up off the bed three times to walk out, and we've resolved nothing.
"We're not done yet," I say. "I want to stay here until I'm 65."
"Are we done now?"
"NO! Will you please sit down! I need to hear it from you!"
"Okay...we're here until you're 65! Now can I go?"
"Yes...Thank you, honey."

Right after that, I cut the broker loose. We didn't have a signed contract - we never got that far. I told her I'd look her up when we're ready. So, I'm calling L_ this morning, at 9 AM, when the realtor was supposed to, and tell him that we're just leaving things as they are until I reach Medicare.

I feel so much better. It was a terrible load, to have all that on me. And much can happen in two and a half years. Amy is just turning 12 - she may not be here in 2019. Not that I want her to die; she's happy here - this is home - and I'd just as soon not uproot her. In the meantime, I can get some of the electric done. I cut up all of the credit cards, except for the big one. I may have one or two payments next month to finish it out, but this is strictly for emergencies - this one card. It's what I've always wanted to do, and never could get us to that. The electric - one light switch and two ceiling fans; I think that's it.

So, this morning, I'm calling the plumber to find out how much the work was from yesterday (I held onto the water heater payment so that I could do it all in one go.) We'll get paid; the SS should come overnight tonight, and all that's left of the bills will be sent out.
Today's laundry day, and I'll be at that shortly. Oh, and I did take the Twilight Ringwraith in; I was told to just get them there and they will unload the car for me. I want to keep seven things - one big movie poster, the Middle-Earth tapestry, STING, the Applause Frodo doll, my fifth anniversary LOTR paperbacks with The Hobbit, my necklace and brooch. Everything else can go, but now I can take my time moving it.

Well, it's getting toward 5 o'clock and I'm ready to get some stuff done. Yeah, this is the right thing to do.


sara
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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Wed May 31, 2017 4:55 pm

Okay, must do a rethink of the Lester.

I called him this morning, in place of the realtor/broker, and told him that we are staying put for the time being. He was fine with that; we need to set up the trust. I still think 5,000 is steep, but there are mutual funds and other kinds of frippery that needs be incorporated into this account. The Honey is still asleep - it's almost noon - but I've got lunch on the table...maybe I should wake him up?

He's awake, just not up. I told him I'll dish up the mixed veggies when he tells me. We're having pot pies today, and he needs about 30 minutes of it just sitting there, in order to be cool enough to eat. But the veggies are still on the stove, keeping hot, under the pot lid...
Anyway, lunch is over, and I'm back here. I've never met anybody who believes in the Rapture - at least not anyone who ever owned up to it. And that's what I heard today from L_. He was discussing the trust, and he said, "We all die, unless you believe in the Rapture, and I do." So, that's why I'm reconsidering my opinion.

The Rapture is one of the oddest - to me - fish in the Bible. The word itself is never mentioned. According to Wiki:

In Christian eschatology the rapture refers to the controversial "predicted" end time event when all Christian believers—living and resurrected dead—will rise into the sky and join Christ for eternity.


It comes from
1 Thessalonians 4:13-17:

13 But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope.

14 For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him.

15 For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which are alive and remain unto the coming of the Lord shall not prevent them which are asleep.

16 For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first:

17 Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord.


So, if he believes this, and I mean, literally believes in this, because I believe that it's already been fulfilled, symbolically, with the Coming of Baha'u'llah, then he must be a better person than I've been giving him credit for. I'm not ashamed to admit I'm wrong about anything or body, and if your attorney is hopeful that he's going to be one of the 144,000 (Revelations 7), to be caught up in the clouds and meet the Lord in the air, then he must be trying really hard to be that good. From now on, I will strive to be less judgemental. It may not always work, but I will try.

I did the laundry this morning, and it went okay. I found that if I walk really close to the stair rail and pull myself up to each step, I can manage without any difficulty at all. I'm back to the six meals, only I'm making three separate snacks of seven almonds each. I've also started using the glucose-control BOOST for breakfast, then having whatever lunch is with Duane, and oatmeal for supper. There's a high-fiber variety I bought for that. I need to do something. The Boost is working really well, which must mean that my diabetes has changed. It spiked me early on, so I gave up on it. But now, I'm on my third carton of six, just one a morning, and it does fine.

Starting next week, I'll take the action figures to the shop. I'll do Fellowship first. Some are in the green boxes and cards; there are also brown ones. I guess that was what they decided to do first, the brown, and then switched to the three different colors. That's the biggest selection I have - then Towers. Return is very limited, but I think that they're the most interesting. I've got all of the Orcs and Uruk-hai, except for the one dude with the little skull atop his head. No trolls, or balrogs, or fell beasts, and Treebeard is small. I'm gonna miss these guys, but it's time. The man at the store looked thrilled that I was bringing these in.

Well, the beds still aren't made and I've got to get the kitchen cleared up. Have a blessed day, joons.

love,
sara
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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Thu Jun 01, 2017 2:44 pm

Cannot believe that it's the first of June...

I grabbed up my box of greeting cards, and looked for birthdays. There's one the has become inactive and her's is the 4th. I was given a new directory, and she's not on it, but I figured, why not? So, she's getting one. There's another on the 15th, and he's moved; I made sure that I've got new address written down.

Speaking of moving, I am so glad we're not, at least for now. My head wasn't in it, but show me a lovely place and I will want it. I still do, that condo we saw Sunday. But, I feel better knowing that we're not being rushed out the door. The SS check still hasn't arrived, so I may not mail the rest of our bills today; it should come tonight, though. Naw, I'll mail them, along with Christine's birthday card.

I still haven't called Earl. Maybe he's feeling better with all the brouhaha in the news. Well, we've had non-stop brouhaha for months - it's not like we haven't. But this a different sort, with a much more hopeful feeling attached to it - what with the FBI, etc. I've been thinking that I would like Mr. DJT to simply resign and go back to his old life. But I was old enough to remember the Nixon Whitehouse, and, in the long run, that didn't fix anything. President Ford was generous in his surrender of any future political life by pardoning Mr. Nixon. It supposedly was to end what was then called "Our National Nightmare", but it really didn't.

The country needed justice. No, that's wrong - it deserved it, and there was none forthcoming. All of the President's men went on trial, and many served time. In a past age, some of them may have been shot or hanged. But they all eventually got to go home, older, sadder and perhaps a little wiser. This time, however, there needs to be a reckoning - not just a walk to Marine 1, and a cheesy show of victory hands. There was a day - as I find my feelings about this whole mess have been changing by the minute - when I was more compassionate of spirit. It might have been for a split second, in the first week of the Regime. Now I just want it over.

I have never been as embarrassed or ashamed of anybody as I am of my government. I found myself saying,"Send the Vice-President on this trip. I'm begging you," but no - he went. That went as the representative of the Nation. I thought, at some now forgotten point, "it could be worse". Well, it is worse, daily, and the people, who could for the love of all that's holy, take matters in hand and do what's right for all of us, are nothing but sniveling, belly-crawling cowards. They are unworthy of the trust of the American people, unworthy of the United States Constitution, and of the Planet Herself. I would to God that this had never happened, none of it. I don't recognize the land of my birth.

If it weren't for the lovely people I see each and every day, I don't know what I'd do. And I try to coax a smile from all faces, as I go about. We're all in this together, we need each other. In the end, I know the World will survive.

She's done it before, in spite of us.


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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Fri Jun 02, 2017 3:20 am

I need a proofreader.

I come back hours later, and the words that I remember writing, simply aren't there. "Jeeze, that makes no sense!" I mutter as I edit. Whole phrases and thoughts often don't get from the brain to the fingertips. But, I am in agreement with the general theme of the posts, even they aren't complete.

There's no explanation for it, but tonight I am feeling so happy. The other day, I told a friend that I was less depressed and more hopeful, because of the ongoing investigations into everything trump; so much so, that I decreased my anti-depressant by 5 mg. She - who also relies on medication for the same reason - burst out laughing, and said she couldn't wait to share that with her therapist.

This weekend I'm calling my sister to ask her about the big cousin reunion up north. I want to go so much, and I'm thinking about taking the bus. I don't know when it is, where it is, or how long it will be; there was talk about July. Amy's going to need boarding, and the Honey is going to need people to check in on him. Maybe I can prevail upon Emmanuel; he took Duane out of the house while I was gone to visit Dad.

These cousins are all from my mom's side of the family:

Francie's two daughters, Annie's one girl, Bill's one girl, and Tony's two, besides Bev and me, who are Rosie's. I don't know if any of their kids will want to come and I've already figured that none of the guys would be interested. Aunt Frances and Uncle Tony are the last of my mom's siblings. I haven't seen Tony and Aunt Jo's girls since Jo's funeral; I can't even remember when that was. Only that it was so shocking.

Josephine woke up, struggling to breathe, and, when the ambulance arrived, they couldn't save her. God, it was so sad! She was 51-years-old. I remember standing beside my mother at the coffin, and asking, "What the hell happened?" I don't remember what Mom said. I was so heartbroken for my cousins, especially Nancy. She was newly-married, and just clung to me...

I've got to go to this. There won't be another chance. I said no, because I was worried about getting around, but I'll manage, and everybody there will help, I know they will. Amy's going to hate the vet's; I need to take her in for a checkup, or they won't keep her for me. I keep hearing that animals live in the moment; well, I'm not so sure. Maybe by now she's forgotten about the last time I left her - in a cage, with other cats around, waking up from anesthesia, while dogs bark and whimper from the same thing. It was 2012.
She's forgiven me...maybe...I think.

And we see Mike this weekend. I meant to call Kathy and ask if we can stop by her house. She's the one with the enormous horror collection. Michael's caregiver wants to see it, and I want her to. I don't know how my kid will handle it - maybe we should just keep him in the livingroom. Unless they've added more stuff to it, besides the Headless Knight, the Skeleton Framed-Mirror, and Cerberus, the Watchdog. He should be fine. And it would be fun to see the two boys together; Justin hasn't seen Michael and vice-versa since 1995, I think. I do have class photos of them from '94. And Michael's going to be 29 this year. 29. It just doesn't seem possible...

It's after 11, and I'm late taking my meds, again. I've tried really hard to do a better job of writing this time - I hope I have. Anyway, I am going to re-read it before I go. Have a good whatever time of day/night you're experiencing, my joons. I love you a whole bunch.


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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Sat Jun 03, 2017 2:28 pm

We're going to Kathy's :D !

OboyOboyOboy! She said she doesn't have to leave for work until 3 PM (she's a nurse.) I don't know how Michael is going to react, and that's my only worry. Justin wants to see him so bad - it's so sweet, how much he likes him. There's no response when we visit Travis; well, you can hardly blame him. Travie just wants the KitKat bar we bring him, and Mike just wants him to have it so that we can leave - at least that's how it looks to me. But, this is very different. I hope Michael shows him some joy, and that Justin's feelings aren't hurt if he doesn't. I'm all pins and needles about this.

And I especially wanted to bring something delicious back to them. I got sent home after Justin's birthday with a tray full of ham and stuffing (which I didn't share, any of it, I'm sorry to say :paperbag: .) But it was so good! Anyway, if I can't think of anything, I'll wait until we do the movie night, and fill it with PoppyCock. For those of you unfamiliar with this delicacy, the original recipe has clusters of almonds, pecans and popcorn drenched in this glaze that'll make you sing hallelujah.

Okay, I'm glad I thought this through with you. The PoppyCock it is.

I've got to make this short, joons. I've overslept and we have study circle today. Talk later, but I wanted to mention tomorrow's plans. If you think of it, say a little prayer that the visit goes okay...


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Re: My dear Joon...

Postby shireling » Mon Jun 05, 2017 1:35 pm

It was a success :D !

We get to the house, Kathy barely has time to say, "Hello", and Mike's run up the stairs. He was grinning from ear to ear most of the time. I did get to prepare him over 2cd breakfast - that we were going to visit Justin, and his house has all these scary things in it but they aren't real. Michael had a look of genuine concern in his eyes until I said that last part, then he shrugged and went back to his grilled cheese sandwich.

Justin was so sweet. And I had to make sure that Renee knew what he was like, so that she wasn't too alarmed. It's easier to show you than to say, so I'm not writing it out. And all of us saw the rooms. The parlor is better arranged; you can actually walk around in it. The Greeter has her key and bloody knife. The Butler's there with his tray of assorted beverages - Bloody Marys, of course, and martinis with eyeballs for the olives. Then there's the Texas Chainsaw Massacre guy, ready to carve the roast; Madam will tell your fortune (it's one of those arcade things. I think that's my favorite in the room.) And for the evening's entertainment, Frankenstein's Monster, who will relate, in great detail, the exact moment of his origin. The clown room had been pared down a bit so that you can really take in those guys, but she's added to the dolls. Years ago, I was looking for specific eye glasses for one of mine, and there was a shop that was loaded with these - mostly porcelain-limbed, velvet and lace-clad, blank-visaged darlings, with a whole host of Madame Alexander collections. That's what this room looks like, except most of these are from movies. Each and every face in there is dabbed with blood, and some of the little darlings are armed to the teeth - sharp, pointy ones.

It was a shame we'd had breakfast. They made big bowls of popcorn for us, and eyeballs (specialty malted milk balls), and Bob had grilled cheese ready. We asked Michael if he wanted the sandwiches or Wendy's and the chicken nuggets won out. But he was able to let Kathy know that he liked the house, which just tickled her. I am so glad. He was very happy to see Justin. I wish we could have gotten a picture of two of them together.

I called Kath later, and she asked me about the staffer's reaction. Renee's got this really flat affect, which has taken me months to get used to. She rarely laughs, and her standard expression is void of anything. She loves the house, Kathy, trust me. It's just how she comes across. She'd probably excel at poker, she's that hard to read. Anyway, I wanted to touch base before we got going today. Thanks for the prayers and good thoughts for yesterday!

Talk later,


sara
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