Old Newspaper Clippings and Other Saved Items

          Mom kept boxes filled with treasures from each of her children.  Treasures.  That’s really a matter of opinion.  I find it amazing that the pages of my baby book are still intact and of great quality paper compared to many I have filled on my own.  But I still scanned the pages – saving a bit for Jenna but still discarding a lot.

School work done on ditto paper.  Remember those?  Before Xerox and other photo copiers.  Purple carbon paper and ink

  

All daily assignments and homework in purple outline – never black

I kept some of my drawings out for Jenna to look at.  The majority I’ve thrown away.  And I’m proud to say that she has also. 

I had made a calendar for my Uncle and his family who were living in Denver at the time.  I don’t believe my mom ever mailed it as it was in my box – but as I pulled it apart, I completely understand why my mom would not have wanted to bother.

How pathetic.

I also found a piece of newspaper dated June 1969.  I went through the page three times, but could not find any significance or reasoning to why the page had been saved.

Lots of advertisement and laughable styles and prices in today’s eye:

      

I do remember birth announcements and weddings – but engagements?  That’s bizarre.  Perhaps mom knew one of these women?  She may have then – but I’m certain she has no clue at present.

I have noticed that my scanner has made the newspaper look more aged than the actual paper.

I was serving in Roanoke during the flood of November 1985.  It’s still quite surreal to me that I was there and saw the damage but not the flood itself as my comp and I were ordered to stay put in our apartment in a house upon a hill

A lot of things can be found on the Internet now.  I don’t have to save the map of Lake Ridge Mall as it is on the Internet.  I don’t have to save brochures that tell me about old and new Cape Henry.  They can be found online.

Not all my faded pictures of Mabry Mill and Philpot can be found – as my comps and I were in several of them.  But they are so distorted – I don’t think they are worth the repair. But the scenery itself can be found online – though I did have to scan this one.  I took it because it made me laugh – and now it can make others laugh as well

I’ve actually gone through everything that I had left with mom three years ago.  But there is more in the shed.  A lot more.  I think it grew. It’s probably growing right now. It’s overflowing – like a vine.  I’m almost afraid to tackle.

I must have saved every thought, every hand out in Relief Society and Young Women’s.  I saved ticket stubs and wedding napkins and announcements – photos of people I no longer remember.

One of the hardest memories to look at was a wedding announcement of a friend close to me like a brother and his wife.  So happy.  So young.  So in love.  That’s how it reads in the photo anyway.

The caption under the photo reads “Today, Tomorrow and Always” - always what? Living a hell maybe, because the love died a long time ago from what I understand.  Today, Tomorrow and Always?  That is what I thought of all my memorabilia.  Fortunately “always” will be a myth in the scrap saving department for me.

So I have divorced much of my memorabilia.  Not quite as upsetting as the many marriages that have fallen apart. It is their children who suffer the most, I think.  Although in this case it’s been an equally great hardship on them all.  Perhaps the youngest and then my friend and his wife who may never get better – one cannot be cured if always in denial.

I’ve thrown away tons of cards.  Some I kept for the pictures.  Some because they don’t seem to make those old-fashion kind of cards anymore.  But I just don’t have the room.  No sense in scanning those.  Most of the pictures that I’ve shared have been “borrowed” from the Internet – and I’m certain I will continue to borrow more.  I don’t need to scan pictures that I can find on the Internet.  I want the personal ones – not the generic card pictures that are nice – but really. I don’t need to hang onto them.  I really don’t.

I’m grateful that I am able to let go and that modern technology has allowed me to compact those things that I would like to save.  Thank you to all of those who have assisted with the many programs and drives available to all of us.

Aunt Gertrude’s Dolls and . . . Jenna’s Rocks

          Kayla and I took the kids for a visit to Aunt Trudy’s house.  She had two dolls that reminded her of Kayla – and she wanted her to have them.

          Aunt Trudy is a collector of dolls.  She has TONS of them.  There are two display cases which house a lot of dolls.  The larger one holds her story book collection and the smaller one contains the dolls which represent various countries.  There are also dolls displayed on the dresser, her bed, and other shelved areas.  I shouldn’t have been surprised about several others that she had downstairs – but I was.  20 – 40 more boxes full of Madam Alexander dolls.  It is mind boggling really.

          Every girl in the family (including Roland’s oldest two – amazingly) has been in the “doll” room and has coveted various dolls and a few have even made dibs about which ones they would like to inherit.  I’m at the point now where I just don’t care.  If I don’t get any of the dolls, it will be okay.  I don’t have room for the things I want.  It seems wasteful that the few dolls I do have (or ones that have been sent to Jenna) are tucked away in boxes in the shed. 

          Aunt Trudy rarely ever lets guests leave her house empty handed – especially the children.  She has always given us shirts, stuffed animals, knick knacks, and of course dolls. 

          One year she asked if Jenna would like a doll.  I said I didn’t think so.  She was still young and curious and was entertaining herself with examining polished rocks from a bowl that Aunt Trudy kept on the coffee table. 

          “I think I have some more of those rocks in my garage,” Aunt Trudy said. “Would she like to have those?”

          “Oh, I believe she would love them more than any other has ever loved any doll that you have given to anybody”

          And she did.  Never has Aunt Trudy received such enthusiasm or appreciation for any doll than the amount Jenna expressed for those rocks.  She would entertain herself for hours each day as she would sort the rocks by color, by size, by shape and by favorites.  Five or six years later (I don’t know how old she was when she received them – but it was before pre-school I think) she still has most of them.  And she loves them. 

          Jenna has ALWAYS liked balls.  I think she was born LOVING them.  And she has always thought of rocks as “Nature’s balls” – or anything which is round.  She discovered a curled up potato bug when she was one.  That was pretty cool.  She was barely starting to talk when she decided to chase the moon as she held out her arms and called it a “ball”  She’s still never been much into dolls though – especially dolls designed for display only.  How boring.

          Kayla accepted the dolls and took them out to her car.  I don’t know if she will put them on display or not.  Unlike me, she actually does have casing for them – but like me, she finds them impractical.  They are “fun” to look at – but the novelty is short lived.  They become dust collectors for a lot longer than the “fun” lasts. And those two – though the looks themselves really do resemble Kayla, Anna and Garrett – are porcelain.  If I’m to collect dolls, I would rather they weren’t porcelain.

          Bless Aunt Gertrude and Jenna for their love and enthusiasm for treasures and for the desire they both have in sharing their joy.

I was Hoping to make a Liar of Myself - SERIOUSLY

          On November 1 I created a post called Unwelcome November – because the first was typical of a November Day – windy, gloomy – no snow however.

          Yesterday I created a post about the week of glorious days that fell between that post and this one.  Even though it was windy yesterday, the sun still shown.  I unrolled my car windows.  I opened the windows in the house.  Yesterday was not all bad.  It must have started this morning.  Very EARLY this morning.

          A wet rain.  Wind.  I think I heard it hailing.  It sounded nasty.  When the noise stopped, the snow started lightly falling.  It’s still not a heavy fall.  However it hasn’t stopped ALL day.  The snow is going to bury the roads.  That doesn’t excite me.

          And I read a post on facebook from one who is grateful for the snow.  I should be grateful.  I am grateful for snowplows and neighbors who have cleared my sidewalk along with their own.  How awesome is that? 

Well, it was Awesome While it Lasted

    Another post in

           poetry form.

The first day of

November seemed

 typical of

November.

The wind blew the

way it always has

when it’s bringing

in snow.

But it didn’t bring snow.

The next six days which

followed were

gorgeous - fall

weather, motor cycle

weather, jogging

weather, strolling

weather. Making

people happy.  It

was great!

Now the wind is

back and louder than

before. The

weather man says it

will be bringing in

snow this time.

Can’t complain. 

It’s been an

Indian Summer. 

Gorgeous.  Cold in

the morning.  Sun

beating from the

afternoon sky.

It snowed one

day in October.  It

didn’t stick though.  It

was wet and cold.

But for the

most part the

weather was

awesome!

Awesome in

September, 

awesome in

October, the first

week of November.

Wish it could have

 lasted Forever.  That

would have been

the greatest!

I’ve Been Forced to say Good-bye

          Saying good-bye is not always a bad thing.  Especially when it only invites clutter and chaos. In 1985 I was on my mission.  It was my second Christmas in the mission field and my family decided to send me a tape and king size card with greetings from various friends and neighbors from my home ward. 

          A 22X25 poster paper was purchased and folded in half.  My family decorated the front with pictures which represented my personality – a picture of Baloo and Mowgli from Jungle Book (I love Disney’s animated version of that show) Ziggy, a picture of ceramic nativity set, trees and flower in bloom, dance shoes, real mountains (Utah mountains,   not the hills of Virginia where I served) the Salt Lake Temple, dolls, golden plates, scripture  paintings  , and musical icons. 

          In addition to all the magazine cut-outs were two actual photographs.  One was of me with my missionary name tag and the other was a recent family gathering that I would guess Corey had taken (as he was not in it) which included my dad’s mother, brother, sister and their families – or parts of them anyway (my uncle’s oldest two are also missing from the photo)

My 11X14 card contained signatures from so many – it was an honor that my family had gone around with the tape recorder to so many of my ward family.  I think they must have gotten all of them with one devise or the other.  Some would sign my card from self and spouse – and then I would find spouses signature elsewhere on the card.  Some would just sign names without a greeting.  Most were just typical Christmas greetings – but there were some that added personal comments.  Surprisingly, I still remember everybody who had signed the card.

Corey had placed on the back:  “When you care enough to send something better than a Hallmark” and “the Best Homemade Card Company around” – it still makes me smile – and really, it doesn’t take up that much room.  But it’s been bent, torn in places, and some of the pictures have faded.  I don’t really NEED it.  Time to say good-bye.

I don’t know where the tape is.  I have several shoe boxes full of cassette tapes.  Most I will end up throwing away – or use them for recording things I would like right now. I think most tapes contain something that I want – but certainly not all of it.

I remember a couple of people singing Christmas songs on the tape that my family had sent along with the enormous card. One visitor said that she wasn’t aware that I was even on a mission.  It was nice to hear so many voices that had been familiar to me. My family obviously put a lot of thought into my gift and thus I cherished it.  Still do – just not in a tangible way.

You Can’t Trade Dragons

          Jenna was so excited to be going to Melody’s dragon themed birthday party.  We both wished we lived closer so that the girls could spend more time together – though my cousin is ALWAYS connected to a schedule – or it seems, wanting to make plans and have get togethers but rarely ever finding the time.

          She and her husband seem to spring for more elaborate parties than Roland and I could ever give – though we have attempted a few times – there was always a restriction on how many friends could be invited.  Always less than ten.  I’m guessing Melody’s invites have always been 30 – 50.  

          Michelle and John started out with Gymboree,  MusicTogether,  and other playful invites.  Michelle didn’t want to deal with the mess at her own house – though I don’t think this is actually the first year it has been at their house.  One year they held it at the Leonardo .  Jenna was unable to attend.

          In the past, Michelle had always given a definite time with instructions to PLEASE be on time.  I always felt that was awfully nervy of her as (for as long as I’ve known her) she has never been on time for a celebration event – unless she is hosting.  But even with that, she was not as organized as she should have been – and though she had left instructions for her guests as they arrived – the party did not really start on time in my opinion.  But then not everybody showed up on time.  In fact, most seemed to drag in on Michelle Standard Time.

          They were blessed with such awesome weather this year – awesome for all those invited and had to drive the hills to get to John and Michelle’s house – and driving there in bad weather is less than awesome.  I was happy that only the first day of November (thus far) was the only November looking day we’ve had thus far.  And I hope that this Indian Summer will linger forever for it is truly my favorite season (take away the politics)

          I wish she would have done name tags.  I have in previous years.  Jenna’s friends all go to different schools and not everybody knows everybody else – which is how it has been at each of Melody’s parties.  When Jenna turned 7 I had passed out tags with a colored shape in one corner.  That way I could mix up the children into teams without them saying: “Oh, I want to be on so and so’s team”  “Why can’t I be with so and so?”

          Each game I would scramble up the children.  “I need red and blue on one team and orange and green on the other.”  “I need triangles and circles over here and squares and rectangles over there.”  I think it worked out pretty well.  But that’s me.  Michelle is usually not as organized.  Although she appeared to have put a lot of thought into the activities this year – some of it just didn’t come together until the last minute.

          The kids were on a dragon hunt.  Jenna said she misplaced her paper.  She didn’t appear to be having fun.  She said it was because Melody wasn’t having fun.  I truthfully hadn’t noticed – but did hear from both mom and dad that she was being a brat.  Why are so many birthday children like that?  Enjoy the day.  Enjoy your friends.  Have gratitude to mom and dad for giving you a party. I’m blessed that Jenna has not acted bratty at any of her parties thus far.

          At one point I guess Michelle told Melody that if she didn’t behave, she would have to go inside and her friends would have her party without her.  Maybe Jenna heard that and misplaced her paper out of fear.  She didn’t finish the dragon hunt.  She actually didn’t seem to participate as much as she normally does.

          When it came time for cake, Melody said she had picked out specific dragons for specific guests and would be in charge of passing them out.  And I think she probably really had picked certain dragons out for some of her guests – but not all 18 of them or 22 or how many ever there were.  Michelle kept on saying who needed cupcakes still, and Melody practically threw a fit. 

          As Michelle continued to pass out cupcakes as Melody pretended to put thought into them, I heard some of the children ask one another if they would like to trade dragons.  One guest, aware of Melody’s feelings and behavior said, “You can’t trade dragons” which came out more like, “If I’m getting stuck with this dragon, than everybody has to keep the dragon that they were given.”

          Michelle’s sister, Rosa, had asked me about mom – and I started bawling as I spilled off my descriptions of her.  Mom had actually called me while I was at Michelle’s house.  She sounded normal – like had been two Saturdays ago.  That’s when I like to visit.  When she knows I’m her daughter and isn’t oblivious to my being there even – like she was on Thursday, for example.  She (her mind) wasn’t even there for the most part. I am having a very hard time with it.  I think possibly worse than Corey.

          After the party had ended, Jenna asked if we could continue to stay so that she could play with Melody.  I had told her okay, and tried to get a hold of Roland to find out his plans.  He didn’t answer the phone.  

Unwelcome November

October has definitely come to its end

Losing Home, Discarding Memories & Wearing Out My Scanner

It will be a while before my next post – as I have TONS of photos and scrapbooking to go through.  I just simply don’t have the room for storing them – at least not the hard bound books (and there are many) but do have room on some drives to insert in the computer.

Blessed are they who can discard without sentimental attachment – for they don’t have to dejunk later on.  Their lives are made easier because they don’t save every little item.  They don’t have decades of clutter.

As Corey had mentioned in a previous post  Ellen and Nate have decided to throw out a bunch of mom’s junk.  And granted, it does look nicer than I think it has ever looked – and seems inviting.  But at the exact same time, it’s not

          I haven’t lived in mom’s house for over 11 years  but had always felt at home there.  I paid for the microwave that is in the kitchen.  I paid for the over-the-toilet cabinet downstairs.  Most of the pots and pans (that mostlikey don’t even get used anymore) are mine.  But we just don’t have room for them in our tiny house or ever tinier kitchen.  The house itself seemed to welcome me – but not anymore.  It hasn’t seemed to for the last year or so. 

Mom’s not the same.  And the house certainly isn’t.  I can’t just walk freely about the house as I had at one time.  The basement is now off limits – at least in my mind.  I feel like an unwanted guest so much of the time.  I don’t think Nate thinks very highly of me – not that his opinion of me matters.  But it’s hard enough visiting my mom as it is – and then to have the sane one act as though you don’t belong.  That he may be better than you. Here’s a salt shaker – why not just pour the salt into my wounds.

         

          And perhaps I’m just reading him wrong. I like things orderly and tidy too – though it doesn’t appear that way.  I’ve married into a family of slobs – except for Randy – who shows no sentimental attachment either and has no problem discarding ANYTHING.  And then there’s Tony and Jenna who are worse than I am about saving and hoarding.  And too often the sentiment is lost.

          I’m actually finding that right now with the things I have saved throughout the years.  I have embarrassed myself.  Why did I save this?  Why on earth did I save that?  What does this even mean?

          Last night I pulled pages out from two photo albums (the ones produced in the 70’s and 80’s; the ones with the magnetic pages that have tons of acid which eat away at the photos) and scanned a few memories;  pulled out the postcards for Jenna to send to her friends,  and ended up throwing away three scrapbooks this morning.  There’s really no purpose for me to hang onto it – especially because of the lack of space.

When we lost our first house, mom said I could store my memorabilia at her house.  She’s got tons of room.  She’d be in that house forever.  It would always be a part of us.  There was no reality for me three years ago when we moved.  Her memory was starting to go – but NOTHING like it is now.  The reality is that we may be selling mom’s house long before Roland and I can ever move from the one we are currently in.  Probably we’ll die here – and then our children will have to go through.  And Randy will be the only one who can throw it all away.  So I’m trying to help ease that burden now.  I am trying to consolidate and keep things simple.  Trying.  I just added to the overwhelmness pile.

The first album I went through included missionary photos – now nearly 30 years old.  There is very little sentimental (if any) left with that area or those I served.  I tried keeping in touch with those that I served with.  It made it hard when I was doing all the letter writing with very little (if any) correspondence on the other end.  And unlike Corey with a strong connection to many of those that he served, I lost track.  I don’t know these people.  And because the majority of them have faded and lost their color – it was easier to throw away. If worse comes to worse, I do still have the negatives  But is the technology for developing disc negatives still around? 

I actually did take this picture at Virginia Beach - I took it with

 my disc camera.  I was always impressed with the outcome

The second album started out with a week of summer activity.  Mom and Dad had gone with Corey on an excursion to  New York.  Kayla and I spent less money in the entire week than they did in just one day.  I removed those pages.

The remaining pages were of Patrick’s family.  Thus I will take it back to mom’s with a note for Sunny if she wishes to keep it or discard it will be her choice.  I am resigning myself from the position of family historian.

I have tried dejunking before.  Rationalizing that those who lived during Hitler’s reign were not able to hang onto their possessions.  With all the natural disasters that have taken place (floods, fires, Katrina, Sandy) so much is lost.  Why hang onto it?  What’s the point?

                  

          I’ve made some scrapbook pages that I’m really quite proud of.  I would like to save those and pass them on.  I would like to save written words – they are so much more meaningful than what is typed into the computer – even if it does seem illegible.  I still have one more pile of scrapbooks.  And then the journals.  My pathetic journals.  Perhaps I’ll just throw those away.  I would like Jenna to have something.  But not so much that it will be overwhelming.

                                                          this would be an embarrassing page  

          Right now she’s fascinated with stuff from my childhood – asking questions.  Some I am able to answer.  Others I have no clue.  And I’m trying to teach her that if you can’t remember the reasons you were hanging onto something in the first place, perhaps they’re just not really worth hanging onto anymore.

          I did bring home a box she had made for the Reflections contest when she was in kindergarten.  There was an award ceremony that took place shortly after we moved.  I kept the box at mom’s house so that it wouldn’t get lost in the shuffle, and had actually forgotten about it.  Jenna enthusiastically retrieved it.  She thinks she’s going to keep it forever.  And maybe she will.  Maybe when she’s fifty she’ll decide she really doesn’t NEED it after all.

          And may my scanner last for many years and not break down in the middle of my “dejunking”  How grateful I am for modern technology which allows me to compact my memories.  I hope what I do save will prove to be useful for generations to come.

Some Tarry and Some Labor

Matthew 20:1-16 gives us the parable of the laborers in the vineyard.  I had always looked at the parable as one about missionary work – about the hereafter, about those who spend their whole lives in the Church striving to do what is right and having someone who has put other’s through hell repent at the last hour. 

         

          I have labored so many hours in the hot burning sun – and God is telling me that if Maleficent should choose to repent, that her reward will be the same as my own.  That she is entitled to all the same blessings as my own.  I’ll admit that I haven’t accepted this interpretation very graciously.  But then who am I to think of myself as better if she truly surrendered herself and did/does repent and actual develop a "compassion" if you will? 

          Slaving in the vineyard is hard work.  I have often thought that I am really just so tired of being there.  I never gave another thought to those who are “waiting in line” – those would be laborers that remain at the job site in hopes that the master will return with something for them – any kind of a position that will give them some kind of wage.

          In today’s economy, it is easy to see why they would stay and tarry – but they would also hold signs that say, “I will work for food”  “Please help me.  I’m poor” and so forth. 

          I never gave the tarrying laborers a second thought.  I hadn’t thought of this parable with a different perspective until today.  And for the first time I saw myself as one of those who has stood in line more than once – and still find myself standing at times. 

          For the message that was shared today focused on those that are standing in line – for those who are doing everything diligently (to the best of their ability) and showing up at the labor site day in and day out and feel like they are just not being picked – that they, that we will never feel the blessings.

          Carrie is the wife of the second counselor, and I am married to the first.  We were actually on opposite ends of the room, but our eyes seemed to be connected to our mouths – that is every time we would make a comment or participated by reading, our eyes would leak and start a chain reaction of making our voices crack.

          She didn’t go into detail about why she was crying - but I think many understood.  She and Dan have been trying to adopt.  It’s been a painful process.  Why, when they attend their Church meetings, and hold callings, and serve diligently are they still waiting in line?  Why can they not labor in the vineyard?  For how long must they tarry? Why does it have to be in God’s due time?

          I have spent many years asking myself that one.  It was painful to watch those I had taught in sunbeams to get married and have children long before I even had a prospect.  People my age were experiencing their second and third season of life.  I was still in the first season and wondered if that was it. 

          The instructor who shared the lesson is in her 40’s and has never been married.  Actually there are several sisters in my ward who have never been married.  Some have friends moving through autumn and some have actually arrived in winter.  I’m probably somewhere between summer and fall – sort of like the weather is now.

          Surrendering ourselves to Him is hard.  We need to have faith that He really does know what’s best for us – that the trials we endure right now are just to make us stronger down the road.  That our “waiting in line” isn’t done in vain – that there is a purpose.  We need to endure while we wait – impatiently or not.  We can’t control His time.  So why not accept it graciously?  

          Perhaps if I dwell on the subject long enough, I can learn to accept it graciously.  I have been blessed.  And I need to focus more fully on those blessings.  Because right now I really am not very gracious about the whole tarrying matter.

The Haunted Maze that Ruined Halloween

          The church was across the street from our first house.  The members used to do a Halloween party every year.  There would be a dinner, costumes and activities.

          People would gather in the multipurpose room to begin with.  And there were 4-6 rooms off to the side where the children could go and participate in various crafts, games and stories. 

          One Halloween my family was asked to host a room.  We found one that did not have windows.  We set up a large cardboard box in the middle of the room.  Roland and the boys worked from inside the box. 

          On the outside we had painted pictures of tombstones, skeletons, ghosts and maybe leaned toward the scary icons of Halloween and not the cute pumpkins and such.

          Our room was rather simple.  We turned out the lights and invited people to “walk through the maze” which was just a trip around the box.  We had placed “scary creatures” in three of the four corners of the room.  The first encounter was with a motion censored skeleton – as someone would approach, the eyes would glow and the skeleton would dance to the tune of “The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out . . . “

          In one corner was a homemade monster.  We had hanging eyeballs and had blown up a ton of balloons to be walked on.  Plus one of my four guys would operate a rat moving back and forth as he would push and pull out a fuzzy ball tied to the end of a broom stick.

          In our final corner was a button that read “DO NOT PUSH”.  Those who did got to hear the sounds of an obnoxious horn while having confetti thrown at them. 

          Our “haunted maze” was a big hit with the teenagers – but too frightening for the majority of children under eight maybe ten.  I think that was actually the last year that a Halloween party was held in the Church building.  They did (and still do) a trunk or treat out in the parking lot – but I don’t think they do the parties anymore.

I really think that was the last one. I can’t help but think our maze was the reason that the inside parties were done away with.  Maybe it’s just a coincidence. But it gives one something to think about.

And the Hunting Begins

          Mom is at the point – and actually has been for some time – where she needs 24/7 care.  Oh, there are some days where she actually seems like her old self – someone we could leave alone and believe she’ll be fine for the two hours that she will be by herself.  It’s always another “personality” that gets her lost.

          So we have taken upon ourselves the dreaded task of looking into assisted living – either or in or out of the house.  Corey would prefer in.  I think it may be time for mom to move on so that we can sell the house as that is what will be paying a good part of the expense. 

I had looked into one before – when Corey didn’t believe she was ready.  But I think he’s slowly realizing that he can’t undo the situation at hand and must face the possibility that we will have to move mom.

Corey and I went to a fabulous retirement home called “Sunrise” - that is where I would like Randy to put me should the need ever arise.  Actually, I expect that I will go before Roland.  But that’s beside the point.  Right now we are looking for  mom.  And we found a strong appreciation for what Sunrise has to offer. 

On mom’s budget we could keep her there for possibly over a year, but definitely not more than two.  We have to find something lower in price – unfortunately.  Because you really do get what you pay for in the way of Sunrise – so we’ll probably not get what we’re not paying for by putting her elsewhere.

Corey has scheduled to see some more places today and tomorrow.  And I’ve been invited to attend.  However today is my visit with mom and tomorrow I’ve scheduled an MRI and I’m not rescheduling.  It may be nothing – but I’ve already gambled on it for almost four weeks now.  But that will be another post.

Oh, the joys of growing old.  Most Life Insurances cannot be collected until one is deceased.  So really, why is it called “Life” insurance? There have been many who have put money into investments to assist with retirement age.  And many of those investments have been a gamble that has not paid well.  Many investments will not fork out more than two months worth of assisted living at Sunrise – maybe six at one that is less costly.

I feel so sorry for those who have no income or have lost their retirement due to the economy or those who have children who squander their savings only to have it gone when it is truly needed.

May we be able to find an assisted living that meets our expectations and may mom be able to adjust to it without too much emotion.  She doesn’t get what my brothers have already tried to explain to her.  I’m grateful that I didn’t have to try and explain it to her – I’m already an emotional boob as it is.

We can’t have mom wandering off.