November 2018
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It’s a really WTF day.

I’ve had the shits for 3 days, barely eating at all and still walking over 3 miles a day so, of course, I felt it was time to check my weight. Had to have lost at least 5 pounds, right? Nothing coming in, everything going out equals weight loss.

Gained 3 pounds. I’m ready to scream. The hell with it. I think I’ll go have a hot fudge sundae.

Oh, and today I am a great-grandmother.

46 Years Ago Today

Still missed.

Me, Mom, Sister Bonnie

Bonnie, Mom, Cathy

None of us had her for anywhere near long enough buy my youngest sister only had 10 years.

Protected: The Conversation

There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.

So Here’s what I’ll do.

Playing with a new theme. I kinda like it but kinda feel it’s a bit over the top. Too bad. We’ll go with it until I feel like something else.

One more pair of socks to knit plus a half a sock and I will finish up an even dozen pair for Leo. He says his feet feel better in my hand knits than in store bought socks. So I’ll be able to finish sooner and maybe get to actually dying the bare yarn I bought to experiment with.

(Did you know you can dye protein fibers…hair, wool, silk, alpaca, etc…and 100% nylon with Kool-Aid? It’s fun, the dye is colorfast and when it gets wet it gives off the scent of whatever flavor you used. Oh…real Kool-Aid, in the packets, not the stuff with sugar already in it.)

Reorganized my bookmarks, read 3 books in the last 2 days and cooked a killer meatloaf. By killer I mean it was horrible. Asian recipe with lots of ginger and other stuff and take my word for it, ginger meatloaf is just awful. That’s one that won’t get made again.

So, just decompressing from my facebook days. I may actually get around to making some posts that make sense here soon.

Time to tell

I guess it’s about time to update you on the stuff that’s been happening since I last updated.

Not so easy. The stuff going down has got me down. A lie going back 50 years, serious medical and financial threats to my sister’s family, the indignity perpetrated on my step-father by his ‘loving’ wife.

Memorial for the forgotten. Or almost forgotten. I’m sure his wife would have preferred it that way. We would have liked to have had his ashes at the memorial but his wife decided to call the funeral home and tell them that she WOULD pick up the ashes after all. (After saying that she didn’t give a shit what happened to them.) That came about an hour and a half after she learned that there would be a memorial after all.

Of course, a week after the memorial, she still hadn’t picked them up. And today is a month since Will died and she still hasn’t picked them up. They still sit in the plastic bag inside the cardboard box at the funeral home. Since she has said she wants them, my sisters don’t have a chance in hell of getting them. They will also get nothing of their father’s…not even any personal remembrances, so not getting even part of his ashes is just—I don’t have the words for it. I know how I still feel when I was not allowed anything of my mother’s, so I know how they feel and there just isn’t any way to describe the betrayal and the loss. With my mother, the first time I visited her grave there was no headstone and no marker of any kind and I couldn’t find her grave and that was scary. I had to wonder if I’d dreamed her death, if it was all a nightmare…and then I had to wonder if it was just that nobody cared to mark where she lay.

For Will there will be no headstone, no marker…not even a grave. And I don’t know how my sisters will bear it.

It was a good turnout. Friends and family who hadn’t been allowed to see him for years. His brother Dean made buttons saying “Willy is free”. I’ve got mine on the strap of my purse, next to the memorial day poppy. Will was a veteran. One who spent the Korean war in Germany, even though he was a medic. How lucky can you get?

The service was a total crap out, though, as far as I’m concerned. Will would have hated it. More talk about gods and Jesus and all that than talk about Will, the person. Then the minister (female) started to sing. Bring out ‘he’s got the whole world’, ‘kumbya’ and others that you’d expect to hear around a Girl Scout campfire, segue into ‘In the Arms of an Angel’ (theme song for the Humane Society that you hear at least once an hour on the Animal Planet channel) but I had to go outside and barf when she started on ‘oh little town of bethlehem’. No, I’m not exaggerating. She actually sang that.

Chapter 2 coming up in a new post. (I’m going to try to order these so that you don’t have to read from down to up)

Time to tell (part 2)…sisters

The sister I stayed with is the one whose husband was diagnosed last Dec. with MDS, the pre-leukemia. As dangerous, or more so, than actual leukemia. The chemo cannot be stopped or he’d be gone in less than a month. Prognosis is 8 to 18 months from diagnosis. He’s going on 8 months now and, quite frankly, is being an ass about his health. He’s ignoring the most dangerous thing about his condition, secondary infections, and they’re likely to take him out.

But I think I understand why. Even with insurance, there’s still a lot of the bill left to pay. He’s not working at all and my sister is getting less than 40 hours a week (39 hours and 45 minutes…yeah, they’re timing her that close) at just a little more than minimum wage. They couldn’t afford to make the full minimum payment the hospital wanted on the bill and they, thinking they were safe by paying -something- on the bill each month, found out just how wrong they are.

My brother-in-law checked his credit report while I was there. In over a 30 year credit history, he has not one negative report. Not one. But when he was 30 days (DAYS, mind you) late on making a full payment to the hospital, they turned the account over to a collection agency. So now, besides the stress of being sick, losing Will, and watching every penny, they’re faced with the possibility of losing their house and everything else they’ve worked 36 years for. They didn’t want to take the money I offered to cover the extra food and expenses of me staying there, so I left it in cash in a thank you note to be discovered after I returned home. I finally convinced my sister that this wasn’t a hand out…that Leo’s parents had done the same for us when they visited and that I had done for my son when I was with them.

Part 3, coming next

Time to tell…lies

I always knew that things were strained in the family but I did figure that I was, at the very least, considered part of it. Hard to think one thing all these years and find out it was a lie.

My middle sister managed to get the deed to the gravesites my stepfather bought 50 years ago. I was always told, by both my mother and stepfather, that there was a site for each of us there. Will even reinforced that at a time between his 2 other wives when we were talking, that there were sites there in the cemetery for each of us. When I said that he might as well sell mine, his response was “well if you aren’t going to use it, see if I ever buy you anything again”. The implication being that there were 5 plots together in the cemetery…one of them occupied by my mother.

Another lie. There are only 4 plots, one of them occupied. The deed is original, with no evidence of a sale or other use of a plot. A 50 year old lie. Originally told to a kid, and built on over the years to make her feel like she was a part of something they didn’t really consider her belonging to.

It crushed me. Even though I never would have used a burial plot (anywhere) for myself, I had asked to use it for my daughter when she died…and was denied. Now I understand why. What I was asking for didn’t exist except in the lies. It made me feel like I never even existed to people who professed to only be angry with me because -I- was obstreperous and mean and just plain BAD. It was always ‘see, we don’t treat you any different than the other 2 and look at how you act’. I guess I knew but didn’t want to -know-, if you understand what I mean.

The only thing that possibly makes this bearable is that I don’t think my mother knew. Will handled the finances and Mom signed whatever she was told to, like a wife was supposed to at that time. I know she thought they had insurance that would pay off the house, no matter who died first. It comforted her while she was dying to think that the property would no longer carry any debt. I found out later that it wasn’t the case. There was no such insurance. But Mom was pretty forceful when it came to providing for me down the road.

She blackmailed Will into adopting me. Sure, she then dumped me with my grandparents but she made sure that I wouldn’t go to school with the stigma of ‘bastard’. When the house was being built, the original plans called for 3 bedrooms. She raised hell until they were changed to make it 4 bedrooms so that there would be one for me. I can’t see her knowing that I was left out of the burial plots without raising a -big- stink about it. (The way it was going in those days, I was truly more likely to be the first to need it)

Makes me wonder though, how much more have I believed for years that were lies? And if I decide to believe it was all lies, does that mean I don’t really exist and never have?

Here we go again!

Just got back from getting my tickets to PA. There’s going to be a family memorial for Will on the 18th. (No former wife invited or admitted) So I’m going. Seems like I’m spending a lot of time on trains this year, but that’s ok.

The VFW has given us the hall to use for the memorial since Will was commander there until shortly after he married -her-. She didn’t like the time he spent there or the fact that the women’s auxillary wouldn’t let her run it. The fact that most of those women had been friends of Mom’s didn’t help either. So she badgered him till he quit.

But the membership remembers him and wants to help. That has helped ease some of the anger my sisters are feeling.

And to give a laugh to the day, Will’s youngest brother has suggested that they make buttons with Will’s picture and the legend “Free At Last” for everyone. He also suggested “Free Willy” for it but that was just a bit much.

I’ll be there.

Vacation’s over

If you ever have the time to take the train somewhere in real comfort, do so in a bedroom compartment. That’s the most comfortable way to travel that I’ve found. Nice seats, your own bathroom, meals included in the price and at night, when there’s nothing to see anyway, a comfortable bed rocking you off to sleep. In fact, I’d consider a long trip (cross-country and back maybe) as a vacation in itself.

Ok, so much for my Amtrak commercial.

Well, you needn’t worry about being bored by pictures. There aren’t any. We didn’t go very far or to any places where you’d want to take pictures. So I didn’t. No biggie. It was wonderful being with my son and his family. I’ve got 2 really talented granddaughters who are going to go places, my son and his wife have made a good life for themselves and I’m really proud of them.

Not much more to say right now.

Except that now we have to go out car shopping. Joy, joy

Today’s the Day


Back in September I wasn’t sure April would get here and the 28th seemed like a long time to wait. But here it is and in about 10 hours I’ll be on the train to DC and trying it again. Haven’t heard any reports of potential storms this time, things look good weather wise. My extra ‘luggage’ has already arrived at its terminus and almost everything to go on the train with me is packed.

Camera and phone and computer are fully charged and packed. I intend to bore the shit out of you with the pictures I’ll take.

I so need this to work this time. I haven’t been anywhere in so long and I need to get away. I’ve been wanting to see my granddaughters for a long time and I’m finally going to get to do it.

I’ll try to update while I’m there but can’t (won’t) promise anything. So, for now, I’m off. Ta-ta, y’all.