Moving Fast

I'm on the trail again, with a new client, looking for her roots.  I spent 3 hours yesterday and today and am climbing up branches on her tree, like I'm a monkey in search of the best banana!  Back about 12 generations already.  

I find it amazing that many of my own ancestor's lived in the same area or even town as some of the other genealogies I have done.  My 2nd Great Grand Father was a shoe maker in Hannover, Germany.  I wonder if he made or repaired shoes belonging to my last client's ancestor's.  Then they all ended up in a little town in Jefferson County, New York.  They were farmers like my ancestor's who lived there too--in the same time period.

My new client's ancestor's came from Herfordshire, England, where my English ancestor's came from--same time period.  Wouldn't it be something if I found a marriage between one of my ancestor's and one of theirs?  YOWZA!!
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A calm morning and then all heck broke out!  A neighbor who lives two streets over and once worked as handy boy for me, is now a professional painter and he came over to give me an estimate.  I am canceling the guy who didn't seem to want to get back to me and couldn't even remember being here and giving me an estimate.

The neighbor guy wants to start tomorrow!!!  I had to run to Lowe's and get 4 gallons of paint.  Had it matched to what I used before and going to have the ceiling and walls the same color.  Sort of an off-white.  So I started scampering around to push all the furniture in the middle of the rooms, take down the curtains, everything off the walls--exhausted!!!

Then the delivery truck came with my new, unwanted, unneeded refrigerator.  The one kid came in and measured my fridge.  "Hm-mm.  The fridge we have for you is much smaller.  They are supposed to give you the same size."

I had a 21 cu ft' fridge, the new one is 18 cu ft'.  He told me to refuse it and they'd take it back.  

I declined.  It will be all right.

Then when they toted it in, I noticed that it opened on the left.  I needed one to open on the right.  Which the lady at OLSHA assured me it would...I asked twice to make sure.

"By code, it has to open on the opposite side from your stove."

"What?  I rarely use that stove."

So, there it sits, all shiny and new and opens on the left side and my microwave and cooking area is on the right.

Plus it's lower and I have to bend way down to get to the vegetable bins and probably bang the top of my head every time I do!

I am not very happy with the government telling me I HAD to get a new fridge.  Mine was perfectly fine.  Yes--it was nearly 20 years old, but it ran great.

I am ticked-off!  Plus, it has no ice maker.

I'm sorry.  I sound like an ungrateful b**ch!

After I cooled down a bit, I figured out I can get my painter guy to reverse the hinges/handles.  I did that once on a new fridge I bought, so....if I can do it, he should be able too.  

Plus, I bought a GFR outlet plug while I was at Lowe's and going to have him put that in to the outlet that goes behind my eventual media center/electric fireplace.  The electric heater used in those things can over heat and the plug catch fire.  I probably will NEVER use the heater part, but just in case, I need a GFR plug that would shut off the electrical current.

Hoping to get to Lowe's and get my carpet ordered next week and get it laid while all my stuff is out of the living room.  Then get up to Art Van or order on-line my media center/fireplace.

My house looks like I am either moving out or moving in.  I don't know which may I am moving--just onward and upward--ever forward!!! 

Computer Glitch. Right!

Have any of you tried those new Cool Touch, Kleenex?  I didn't even know I had purchased them.  When I opened up a new box, I reached in to grab a tissue and it felt kinda damp and very cool.  They are supposed to be cool.  How they do that, I have no clue, but they sure are nice in hot weather and I imagine they would be nice when you have a cold and the raw nose that goes with it.
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I don't know if you remember, but a couple of weeks ago I got a letter from the Social Security Administration, stating: "The State of Michigan will no longer pay for your Medicare Part B insurance."  That meant a $104.00 cut out of my SS.  I didn't get too jacked out of shape because the State of Michigan raised my food allowance from $15.00 up to $65.00, so it would only be a "real" cut in my budget of $35.00.

I was curious as to why, so I did call my case worker. She never answers her phone, so I left a voice mail asking her to call me back---which she never did.

Then last Thursday, while visiting Pam, I told her about it and she called later to tell me she had heard on the News station that 12,000 low income Seniors had received the same notice and it was a computer glitch on the part of the State of Michigan Social Services(welfare).

Whenever the State changes our benefits, an e-mail is automatically generated to Social Security Admin.  Apparently some idiot, pushed the wrong button, causing the SSA to send us letters.

Of course, we all know the term "computer glitch" is a general cover-all term which actually means, P.E.B.C.A.C. = Problem Exists Between Chair and Computer.  Computers don't make mistakes.  People do!

Sure enough, yesterday I received another notice from the SSA stating:  "The State of Michigan WILL pay your Medicare Part B insurance."

Thankfully, in the past two years, I have been forced to practicing to not worry about things I have no control over, so the whole thing didn't even cause me 2 minutes of stress.
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Now I know you won't believe this, but.......yesterday I didn't do any genealogy research all day!  

Tuesday, I mailed off the massive genealogy I had finally finished.  Plus it was my birthday and I was busy.  Yesterday, I guess I needed to rest my brain and get some stuff done around this house.  

I do not understand how so much clutter occurs in this house with only one person living here!  I have become very lax in picking things up and putting them away.  Laundry that I did Monday, still hangs from the pole in the laundry area or is laying, folded, on top of the dryer.  Two cases of protein drink that Karen gave me for my birthday, are still sitting on my kitchen counter.  Dirty dishes, two feet away from the dishwasher, still sit in my sink.  It is just ridiculous!!

So, I am off here and cleaning up what I didn't get done yesterday. I just wanted to let you know that my SS is going to remain the same, so my budget will remain the same with its normal shortfall of $50.00 each month.  I can live with that.  :-)

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Addendum:  Just got a notice from Social Services.  They have lowered my food assistance back to $15.00 a month.  Government work at its finest!  

It's Been A Long, Short Time

This photo appears to be that of a sweet, darling little girl.  All blonde ringlets, bow in her hair, smiling sweetly.

This photo appears the same.  Blonde ringlets, bow in hair, pretty little gold locket from her Grandma for her 6th birthday.

This photo years later, shows a pensive sort of young woman.

Strange how photos can cast a person into something they are not!

Under that exterior, was a real, live Tom-Boy.  

I spent most of my young life in dresses, but most of the time, those dresses hung over my head as I swung, upside down,  from a tree limb or Monkey-Bars, or did cart-wheels across the school playground.  Apparently there was some concern as my mother made me wear TWO pairs of underpants.  Cotton underneath and a nice nylon pair over those.

She had tried to explain that "nice little girls" didn't hang upside down or do cart-wheels in a dress and let "their underwear show", but when that failed, she went practical.

Once that little girl and even that young lady in her Senior Prom dress got away from the photographer, she was running free!  Climbing up on the barn roof. Climbing trees.  Swinging from the rope in the top of the barn to sail out and drop into the hay mound.  

Crawling along the ditches, pretending she was escaping Nazi soldiers, with her three little kids crawling along with her in a game of Combat.  The rule: if the neighbor's dog spotted us and barked, we were caught and the game was over.

Showing her three little kids how to lasso a post, and then ride fast on their bikes in a game of Rawhide.  Showing them how to grab on to the lowest limb and climb up into the top of a Maple tree.

Oh Lord help us!  She just has never grown up!

Just yesterday, she was hiding behind her big Maple tree out in front, so she could jump out and scare her friend John as he walked by.  Pointing her right index finger at him and yelling, "Bang.  Gotcha.  You're dead!"  Scared him good too!

Yesterday was a special day.  The first Day of Summer.  The Longest Day of the Year with 15 hours of daylight, a day half-way between Christmas....and her birthday!
===============
Where have the years gone?  I pondered on that yesterday.  I remember them all so well.

My Mother taught me to howl at a full moon.  We'd go outside, stand on the back porch and let out a good wolf howl.  I remembered me doing the same thing.  My three kids standing there with me.  Me the Momma Wolf, they the little cubs, all trying to howl as loud as I did.

Pammie called me early yesterday to wish me a Happy Day and tell me she had to work last night so she would miss our supper together.  Then she asked, "Momma, did you see that big full moon last night?"

"I sure did!"

"Did you go out and howl at it?"

"I sure did!  Did you?"

"I sure did!  You taught me well.  Last month, as I was walking out of work with some of my friends, the moon was full and I let out with a howl and they just looked at me and shook their heads."

"I get that a lot of that, Pammie.  People looking at me and shaking their heads."

Like Mother like Daughter.  Some traditions just carry on down through the generations.  
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After I scared John, he and Maizey came up for a porch chat and so I could give Maizey her Cheerios treat.

About an hour later, my sister and Chuck came down and stopped in.  Chuck disconnected the water tube from the refrigerator ice maker.  The people delivering my new fridge on Friday, told me the ice maker had to be disconnected because, "We are only delivering and setting up.  We don't disconnect anything. It has to be done before we get there."  Lah Dee Dah!

Pearl painfully walked all the way down for a porch chat, which was going nicely until Dar walked up.  Then the conversation was all about her and her Dad.  I kept trying to turn the conversation back to something we could ALL join in on, but...........

It is just weird how she does that.  Pearl or I could ask her a question or a comment, totally unrelated to her, and she manages to not really address the comment, but go off on a tangent that involves only her and off she goes.

She finally left and as Pearl was getting up to leave she said, "That woman is weird!"

"Ain't that the truth," I replied.
================
Half an hour later, Karen pulled up to pick me up.  She had my oldest (pregnant) Grand Girl Helene with her.  I thought Madeleine was coming too, because I thought she was home from Guatemala, but...it seems her two week vacation there has turned into a month long one.  (That girl is so obsessed with Guatemala!  Why can't she get obsessed with Appalachia or somewhere here in the States?  We have so many people that need houses built and help right here in our own back yard.  I kept my thoughts to myself.)

Karen said, "Jennifer is in town.  She is meeting us at the Grand River Grill.  She said you liked it there."

I hate that place, but I kept my mouth shut!

We got there and got set down and were talking and then I saw Jennifer walk in the door.  I jumped up, ran over and just grabbed her into my arms.  Hugs and kisses and "I love you's".

Gosh!  It was a wonderful time.  They came back here for another hour after supper and we just talked and talked and laughed.  Planned a baby shower in September for Helene, talked about my son Mark and how he is doing.  The 4 siblings had just spent Father's Day weekend  up north together.

"Mom," said Karen, "when we siblings get together...it's like all the years just slip away and we are like we were when we were kids.  We all stood outside and howled at the moon Sunday night!"

Warms the cockles of my heart!

Where have the years gone?

by age:  Helene, Jennifer, Karen, Moi

Gotta Be Careful

I guess I am not politically correct enough in my speech and I have to be careful of that.  I hate having to stop and think before I make a wise crack.  I don't want to hurt any one's feelings.

I don't think I have a racist bone in my body.  Growing up out in the rural farm area, there were no other races to be racist about.  People were judged on the way they lived their lives.  Honest people or dishonest people.  Pretty plain and simple.

Growing up, I don't think anyone is my family was racist.  After all, my Grandmother had a Japanese man working for her during WWII.  He was a professional chicken sexer and came every Sunday to determine the sex of the baby chicks that we had just pulled from the incubators, and before the chicks were sold.  None of our neighbor's had a problem with him either.

His entire family, who were born in the US and all citizens, but who lived in California, were put into interment camps by President Roosevelt, but he wasn't bitter about it.    It was as it was.

When I was older, we had men from Flint come out to the farm.  They wanted permission to train their coon dogs back in the woods.  If asked, we would have called them "Negros".  They were great guys.  

They never trampled down a fence back in the woods.  They never damaged anything.  Not like some of the white guys who came out and wanted to hunt in the woods.  After my Daddy saw the careless way they acted and hunted, he quit allowing them that privilege.  If asked, we would have called them, "City People", which was not a nice connotation back then.  

My Daddy had a bad experience with a couple of neighbor boys who had moved out from the city. They wanted him to show them how to repair a wagon.  He did.

After they left, he found most of his tools missing.  The tools were laying on the ground under the wagon they had repaired.  "City people!  They'll steal anything that isn't nailed down," was his comment.

After I was married and moved out, my Uncle told my Daddy about a man he knew, who knew a man, who knew another man who had been living with his niece and nephew.  The niece and nephew were moving away and the man needed a place to stay and work.

Daddy hired him and moved him into a trailer on the farm.  The man could not write and he barely spoke English.  "I just dumb Pollock," he always said.

He was a hard worker and a very sweet man.  We called him Pete, because that was his name.  When he died many years later, with no family around, we had a funeral and he is buried on our family plot in the nearby cemetery.

============

BUT--phrases or comments made back in the old days, that elicited no response or carried no offense then, now do.

On Face Book the other day, a friend had posted a video showing a Black Labrador dog running around and around and around a tree.  Round and round and round.  I commented, "He reminds me of Little Black Sambo", but before I hit the "post" button, I reminded myself that it was not PC to say that.

 Didn't we all grow up with the story about Little Black Sambo?  He and that tiger ran around and around that palm tree until the tiger turned into butter.  The little boy lived in Africa.  His skin was black.   He was cute and I thought his name was cute.  Not so cute nowadays.

When I was a little kid, I had a Hopalong Cassidy cap pistol/holster set, a black cowboy hat and vest and a pair of cowboy boots.  I used to get on my bike and ride up and down the road, shooting (imaginary) Indians that were hiding in the bushes and going to ride out and scalp me.

My Mother also made me an Indian princess dress out of burlap, a beautiful headband with a feather in the back, bought me a pair of beaded moccasins, and also built me a 10 feet tall Tee Pee out of canvas.  I had an Indian blanket in the Tee Pee and I'd play in there all day.

One of my favorite things were the cardboard dividers that came in the Shredded Wheat box.  All about Injun Joe and how to make a stove out of an old Crisco can.  Or how to make a whistle out of reeds found in the roadside ditch.  Or how to make a halter to tie my big dog up to the sled or wagon to get a ride.  My Mother and I spent almost one whole day making a Wikkiup, for that big dog to haul around.

I still love anything Indian Native American. I have had that doll since I was 8 years old.  I watched as those sand paintings were made.  The lady who made them was such an artisan!

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I didn't think any of these scenarios were racist or prejudicial.  As I ventured out into my adult life, I had no prejudices that I knew of.  I met my first Negro African American, when I attended college at age 24.  Her name was Lorena and we shared a gym locker in Phys Ed. class.  

A strange conversation that first day.  All the other girls got their lockers and put away their clothes to change into shorts and T-shirts. I asked Lorena if I could share with her.

She said, "Are you sure?"

"Sure.  Unless you don't want too."

"No one wants to share with me," she said.

"Why?"

"Because they think niggers stink and I will stink up their clothes."

I was speechless.  She was the only Black, Black American, African American, girl in the class.  We became friends, although that was the only class we shared.

<back in 1964 the term "Blacks" was still used>

We met in the Cafeteria for lunch every day.  I sat with her friends.  She teased me because I ate my Muskmelon with a fork.  I teased her because she called is Mushmelon.  "It's not MuShmelon," I'd say.
It's MusKmelon."  We jokingly argued about that.

Then she said, "Let's just call it Cantaloupe.  You eat it with a fork and I'll pick it up and eat it like your "possed" to."

"Huh?  Cantaloupe?  I thought that was the green kind of melon."

She just shook her head at the uneducated, farm girl I was.

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Then I met two guys in my Sociology class.  One was sort of light brown color, with jet black, straight hair.  He had a very aquiline nose and broad forehead.  I thought he was probably an Indian.  The other kid was almost purple he was so dark.  He was kind of small and his speech was fast and quick.  I could barely understand him.  We used to meet in the Student Union every afternoon for an hour between classes.  One day, we were joined by a blonde guy.  He was very handsome.  His name was Len.  Then a beautiful girl joined us, she had olive colored skin .

We looked liked the United Nations, sitting there. 

Over the course of time, discussing our Sociology class, and life in general, I looked at the guy I thought was Indian and said, "Are you an Indian?"  Before I could answer, the kid who was purple black said, "No.  I'm Indian, he's Native American."

"Huh?"

Then the blonde guy said, "I'm German."

"Oh.  So am I," I replied.

"Yeah, but I'm a  German Jew."

"Huh?"

Then the girl piped up and said, "I'm Lebanese."

<Oh, she must be a Catholic, I thought.  What did they call them?  Chaldean Christian?>

"I'm a Lebanese Jew."

"Huh?"

They kind of looked at me and all I could think of saying was, "Oh--I'm just a country farm girl and I don't know anything!" 

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I grew to love every single one of those kids.  Every day we met in the Union for that glorious hour.

I learned that the Indian had grown up on a reservation up near Midland Michigan. He was part of the Isabella tribe. When little, he had been forced into a white school to be "indoctrinated."  The purple Indian was from India. His father was a professor at the college.  He was Catholic, instead of Hindu.  The Lebanese girl's family had fled because of religious persecution from the Arabs, even though---she was Arabic!  The blonde German had grown up in Germany during WWII.  He had the scars on his legs to prove it.  A beating, with chains, by a Nazi youth group.  His family fled just as the persecution of Jews was beginning.

And---there I was.  Just a white  pinkish colored farm girl who had never gone through anything scary or ever been persecuted.

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What I've learned, doing genealogy?  ALL of our ancestor's have been persecuted in some way.  Whether because of their religious beliefs, or ethnicity, or just because of where they lived.   AND--every single one of them had the same desire.  To make a better life for their descendants.  

Every.  Single.  One.

We all have different ethnicity's in our DNA.  We think we are, "German, English."  or,  "Catholic, Protestant, Jewish"  and then we find out, waaaaaay back in time, our 10 Great Grand Father married a Native American.  Or our Protestant 9th Great Grand Father married an Irish Catholic girl.  Perhaps, like a guy I met once, his 3rd Great Grand Father (white) married an African American girl.  There have been wars fought over religion and ethnicity and yet...somehow people ignored that in the name of love.

We really are all the same on the inside!  We have absolutely no reason to be biased against any other human being.  However, I do think we are allowed to judge individuals on how they live their lives and how they act.  

I do not discriminate against any ethnicity, religion, creed, lifestyle or political leanings.  I have ALL in my family, or have known all.  But...I do want to spend my time with those that are loving, kind, gentle and honest.  If they aren't, I don't want to spend time with them.  So...I guess I am judgmental.

Be they white, black, yellow, tan or red.  Be they Catholic, Protestant, Jew or Muslim or my Wiccan neighbor.  Be they Conservative or Liberal.  Be they NRA members or anti-gun.  Be they straight or gay or somewhere in between.  Be they mentally whole or slightly over the edge.  Or even those "City People"!

I just have to be careful and more PC and more sophisticated and not respond like the uneducated, naive, farm girl that still lurks inside my head. LOL   

Who Am I? Where Am I?

Like the proverbial chicken with her head cut off,  I am running around, minus my head sometimes, which results in ------not taking time to blog!

I would catch you up and tell you what I did Wednesday, but I have quite forgotten.  LOL  I do remember driving up to the print shop to have 2 copies made of the genealogy pedigrees I am finishing up.  I do remember that when the copies came out of the Xerox machine, there were mistakes.  I do remember hurrying home to fix and reprint the pedigrees so I could get back to the Print Shop before they closed.

I distinctly remember Dar walking in about a half hour later and staying for 2 hours.  

"I'm so upset.  I had to come over so you can calm me down!"

<Dear Lord.  Who made me responsible as the guardian of the health of this woman's mental stability?>

When her blood pressure was down and she was feeling better, she left.  Half an hour later, John stopped by.  He is worried about his dog, Maizey and he needed reassurance that he is doing the right thing about NOT putting her down just yet and spending $800.00 to bring her back to life!

It was 9:00 by the time he left.  I had had no supper.  I needed to feed my Purry Furries and I was exhausted!

I swear to you--I am about to hang out my shingle and become Lucy.

 

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I go to bed at midnight, so at 10:30, I sat down in front of the computer to fix the pedigrees so I could get them printed on Thursday morning.  

For some unknown reason, my printer refused to print!  I shut if off, waited, turned it back on, and it printed out some sort of gobbley-gook!  

I have been having trouble with it for weeks.  It's about 10 years old and I do a whole lot of printing.   Last Sunday night, I got so frustrated that I got on E-bay and ordered one exactly like it--remanufactured!

I went to bed.

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When I woke up Thursday to a torrential rain storm, I remembered, lunch with the Old School Gal Pals.  I had to leave at noon.  I finished the pedigrees by coaxing my printer along, but didn't have time to drop them off at the Print Shop.

I took off and I felt like a storm chaser!  Every time I drove out of a rain storm, I could see dark clouds ahead and within a few miles, I was in another one.  Wipers going 60 miles and hour, slowing down to a crawl, trying to see the edge of the road.  This happened twice.

Just as I got about 6 miles from where I was going, the rain stopped and everything was dry.  So dry that I noticed lawn were "July Brown".  It looked like they hadn't had any rain for a month.

I was first to arrive at the little hole-in-the-wall where we were doing lunch and went in a got a table for 8 set up.  9 showed up, counting me 10.  I sat on the end of the table, which I usually do anyway so I have a place to stick my long legs out to the side.

We had a great time!  Even the two ladies that drive us nuts, with their competition to dominate the conversation, were rather quiet.  We all got to talk and comment back and forth.  No political talk--we know better than that!  A tiny little pizza restaurant, I think I had the best Antipasto salad ever!!!!!

As we were about to leave, someone mentioned how they wished it would rain.  I stepped to the door to go out and it was pelting down rain so hard we could barely see across the street.  More than one of us stated, "I do have an umbrella with me. Unfortunately, it's in the car!"  I told them they all owed me a debt of gratitude for bringing the rain with me and they gave me a rousing cheer!

A an interesting part of our meeting--one of our friends showed up with a "surprise" guest.  We were all asked if we knew her.  She did look a bit familiar, but none of us could come up with a name.

"She was in the band."  Hm-mm.  I should know her then.  "She was a cheerleader."

I knew she hadn't graduated with us, so I begged to be enlightened.  "It's been fifty-nine years since we graduated.  We've all changed a little bit.  Tell me your name!"

"Judy Streeter," she said.  "I moved between eighth grade and high school."

"Oh my gosh!" I said.  "That's sixty-two years ago, but I remember you!"  and I gave her a hug.  "You haven't grown an inch since then."

"Well, you have!"  she replied.  We all had a good laugh and we invited her to our class reunion in August.

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Then I headed out to The Farm in the rainstorm.  Chuck & Susan were ecstatic that they were getting the first rain in weeks.  I once again proclaimed that I deserved the credit and Chuck bowed to me.

Susie and I chatted for about an hour and then I headed out and stopped at Pammies.  She has started a new summer work schedule at the school. To work at 7:00 and out of work at 1:30 pm.

She had taken her brother Mark to his 3rd chemo treatment the day before and I asked how she handled it.  Pammie can't even stand to see someone get their finger pricked, let alone IV's inserted.  She said, "I turned and looked out the window while they were getting him set up and then I could look."

I found out that Jennifer is home staying with Karen and working at her old Law Office this past week and all four of the kids are headed up north to Karen's in-laws cottage for a weekend together this weekend. They will celebrate Father's Day with their Dad who only lives a few miles away.

"How wonderful!"  I said.  "I hope you all have a great time!"

<not a trace of bitterness in my voice>

Did they all gather around their Momma on Mother's Day? You ask.  Their Mother's birthday is this Tuesday.  Are they going to gather around their Mother, the woman who gave them birth? You ask.

Maybe I need to buy a cottage up north on a lake and I would see them more often?

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I got home about 6:15 and Dar walked in at 6:30. EGADS & LITTLE FISH HOOKS!

Her Father was taken to the ER in the middle of the night and she was very upset that her brother hadn't called to tell her until 8:00 in the morning.

So, I listened to her rant and agreed with her on some points (because that's what a good psychiatrist does).  Then pointed out to her that most probably her father didn't want her brother to call and disturb her sleep, because, "You've been going through so much lately." and she calmed down.

Now she is having a problem because she told her son he had to move out by month's end and the other day he mentioned, "I guess we'll have to live in our van again."  

"I feel sorta bad for them."

"Well, they lived in their van for three months before they showed up at  your house.  You have offered to go with him to find government housing.  You have offered to get him on Welfare.  You have done all you can."

"Plus, Daddy wants to come live with me in July.  And, my sister-in-law told my brother she is done and wants "the old man out of my house!'"

"I just wish your Dad would consent to go and look at the beautiful senior living places they have around here.  He can afford the best and they are beautiful places.  He wouldn't be lonely and he would get so much attention from all the women residents...he'd be in heaven!"

"Well, he won't.  He told me I am going to retire and he will pay all my bills and we will go places and have a great time."

"Okay.  I thought you wanted to stay working."

"I do!"

"Well, you better get all that settled before he moves in or you will start to resent him when you have to stay home all day."

She left.  

John stopped by within minutes.  Thankfully, now that it's summer he is only coming by once a day--usually in the evening.

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I got up this morning and got my genealogy pedigrees done and off to the Print Shop to get them copies and then up to Walmart to get cat food.

My new "old" printer arrived this afternoon.  I set it up and got both genealogy books finished.  One is in a three ring binder and the other I will take up to the Print Shop Monday to be bound into a book and then mail them off Tuesday.

   

This is what my living room looks like when I am working on putting the final touches on a genealogy book.

Tomorrow will be clean up day---until my next project.

A Mixture

Do we ever have a day in our life where everything just goes along all fine?

Well, yes.  Some day's are like that for me.  Thankfully more days are like that, then days of complications.

Today was not one of those days!

I got a call early this morning.  They are delivering my new FREE refrigerator next Friday!  YAY
I got a UPS delivery with my special printing paper I ordered from Staples on Sunday.  YAY.  Now I can get the book(s) finished for my client.
I got my mail and there was a letter from DHS (Welfare) that my food assistance has been too low at $15.00, so for the next 4 months they have raised it to $65.00 a month.  YAY.
I ran up to the print shop and got my pedigrees for the genealogy book all printed out.  YAY.

Then, I had lunch, watched my Soap and the day turned to crapola!
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I got a registered letter from the Social Security Administration that stated, the DHS of Michigan will no longer pay my Medicare Part B, and they shouldn't have paid it last month, so on July 3rd, my SS benefit will be $735.00 instead of $978.00.  From August on, it will be $835.00 a month.  I can barely make it on $978.00 a month as it is, but was getting caught up on the Dentist and Chiropractor's bill, and got my car fixed and now?  

My expenses are $1,108.00 a month.  That doesn't include food!  Electrical bill went up.  Car insurance went up.  Comcast bill came down, food assistance went up.  Still, I am once again back to being short every month.

I got on the phone and called my case worker.  They NEVER answer the phone, so I left a very calm message asking if she knew why they were not going to pay my Medicare, as my income has not gone up and I have two new doctor bills to pay off.  

Then I decided today was a good day to drive on up to the Secretary of State's office to renew my driver's license and get my new tabs.  I checked on-line and it said "Tuesday or Wednesday afternoon, between 2:00-4:00.  I got there at 2:15.  The lady said it would be about an hour and forty-five minute wait.

I thought she was kidding because, although there were a lot of people waiting, there were 5 clerks working and the numbers seemed to going quite quickly.  Half an hour later, 4 of the 5 clerks took their break.  No one covered for them.  That meant, one person was working.  Their break lasted 30 minutes.  

The lady lied to me.  It didn't take an hour and forty-five minutes.  It took an hour and fifty-five minutes.  I had not taken a book with me.  I can hardly sit still for 2 hours, and I had to pee every 45 minutes.  So walking to and from the bathroom eased my back from sitting on the hard plastic chair for 2 hours.

Thankfully, here in Michigan, we only have to renew in person every 4 years.  Plus, they don't have us do the written test anymore--which I actually thought the funnest part of going there!!!

The painter, that I contacted on May 16th, who said he'd get back with me, didn't so I called him the other day.  He asked me to "refresh his memory."  Professional painter and he can't remember the appointments he has made?  He was supposed to call me back either yesterday or today to schedule my paint job.  I may just cancel him.  Lord knows, I will need that money I've saved up to live on the next few months!!!
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I am staying calm and positive.  I have no control over any of this.  I asked God to handle it for me.  I've been talking the talk, about not worrying or stressing about things, to Let Go and Let God.  Now I gotta walk the talk.

Bragging Rights

Karen & Mark's youngest son.  

Stephen had his White Coat ceremony Friday night.  He starts medical school at Michigan State University, in two weeks.

<isn't Karen pretty?>

Madeleine is safely back home after two weeks in Guatemala--she went to just visit her host Momma and ended up helping to build another house.

 Quite the family

Lets see:  

#2 child, Susanna Elaine: got a Track scholarship to Grand Valley State University (Grand Rapids, MI), lives in Portland, OR. , works for New Balance shoe company, travels all over the states and runs in marathons.

#1 child, Helene Mary:  Master's Degree in some sort of satellite engineering.  Lives in Ann Arbor with her hubs Mike, expecting a baby girl in October, works for a government contract company, viewing images from satellites in space. 

#3 child, Marcus James:  Master's Degree in Nuclear Engineering.  Lives in Ann Arbor, works for the largest electric supply company  in the State, in their nuclear power plant.

Mom Karen Helene:  Master's Degree in education.  Teaches math at a Catholic girls high school  Home schooled all five children.

# 5 child, Madeleine Sophia:  Studying nursing at a local community college.  Wants to be an Elder Care nurse.  Dances ballet.  Builds homes in poor countries in South America.

#4 child, Stephen Charles:  Just graduated with a degree in Physiology.  Starts medical school.  Wants to be an ER doctor.  

...and I suppose I should mention their father:  Mark Thomas, who also has a Master's Degree in the same field as Helene and she works with him at the same company.  What they do is quite secretive.

Quite the family.