I never liked the holidays - always gained weight, always felt tortured by the "plenty." I've come upon a great plan though. I make my yearly doctor's visit after the holidays. If I can just stay the course through the holidays, I'll feel like I accomplished alot. Last year I gained 10 pounds. I think I've already gained that.
It's especially frustrating when I have Thanksgiving at my home. All the leftovers!! My sister's oreo ice cream cake - my brother's lasagna, my girlfriend's pierogi's ...
So, I've cleaned the house and made my plans.
Gotta think thin... Keep in mind that doctor's visit is on the horizon.
Oh, and shop, on-line for all those great Xmas deals..
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Friday, November 11, 2011
Looking for opinions.
Now that I'm "retired" we're searching for ways to free up some money. We decided to do a reverse mortgage. It's an FHA loan and if we qualify, we won't have to make a loan payment FOR THE REST OF OUR LIVES!
We checked it out at the AARP website. It turns out there were some horror stories about seniors losing their housing because of this mortgage. It goes like this - somehow the broker, for whatever reason, tells one of them to sign over or "quit claim" deed the property to the other. Why? It could be they'd get more income, a bigger lump sum or maybe one of them was too young to qualify. Well then, when the person holding the mortgage dies, the other one is forced to leave.
We did research on the various loans being offers and selected the one we wanted. After the company sent up a library of information, we next went to a counselor.
You can't get this loan without a mortgage counselor and it seems all of them want to charge you, up front, for their words of wisdom. We finally make an appointment with one that only charges if you close the deal.
As soon as we entered his office we could tell he was going to give us a really long song and dance. (Obviously wants us to close the deal. How else will he make his money?)
I explained that we both were real estate agents with lapsed licenses and were pretty astute in housing issues. My husband and I use to buy fixer uppers to rehab and sell before the market crashed. (Thank goodness we got out of that before getting stuck with a lemon!)
Nice guy, our counselor, but there must be something about being over 60 that makes people want to explain things like you're a child. Did I change my facial features so that I'm looking confused? On my way to senility??
Well, we got through that and sent the paperwork to our mortgage broker. This guy ends up trying to confuse us. He has our instructions on how we want to proceed, then calls and asks all the questions to find out how we wish to proceed.
I'm don't understand his problem until I ask, "Steve, do you have the figures we agreed to in front of you?" He confesses that his computer is slow and he's winging it. (Again, thinking I'm not going to catch on - aging adjustment??)
He sends all the paperwork to sign, sticking a post-it on one pile, "Sign these" and on the other pile, "Keep as your copy."
Trouble is, he sticks the wrong pile, which we dutifully sign - again, getting confused since it has blank pages that we feel we should fill out. The final clue that it was wrong - a stack of documents for "Joe Borrower." Why would he want us to go through paperwork for Joe Borrower?? Dated Aug. 2010??
So we go back to the other pile and realize there are highlights on various pages. Those blank pages we feel we should fill out are now brimming with information that needs our verification.
Well, we sent everything on it's way. Now we've got to wait for the FHA appraiser - with the market being so volatile, will our home be worth what we think? Here's a picture of it. What do you think?
We checked it out at the AARP website. It turns out there were some horror stories about seniors losing their housing because of this mortgage. It goes like this - somehow the broker, for whatever reason, tells one of them to sign over or "quit claim" deed the property to the other. Why? It could be they'd get more income, a bigger lump sum or maybe one of them was too young to qualify. Well then, when the person holding the mortgage dies, the other one is forced to leave.
We did research on the various loans being offers and selected the one we wanted. After the company sent up a library of information, we next went to a counselor.
You can't get this loan without a mortgage counselor and it seems all of them want to charge you, up front, for their words of wisdom. We finally make an appointment with one that only charges if you close the deal.
As soon as we entered his office we could tell he was going to give us a really long song and dance. (Obviously wants us to close the deal. How else will he make his money?)
I explained that we both were real estate agents with lapsed licenses and were pretty astute in housing issues. My husband and I use to buy fixer uppers to rehab and sell before the market crashed. (Thank goodness we got out of that before getting stuck with a lemon!)
Nice guy, our counselor, but there must be something about being over 60 that makes people want to explain things like you're a child. Did I change my facial features so that I'm looking confused? On my way to senility??
Well, we got through that and sent the paperwork to our mortgage broker. This guy ends up trying to confuse us. He has our instructions on how we want to proceed, then calls and asks all the questions to find out how we wish to proceed.
I'm don't understand his problem until I ask, "Steve, do you have the figures we agreed to in front of you?" He confesses that his computer is slow and he's winging it. (Again, thinking I'm not going to catch on - aging adjustment??)
He sends all the paperwork to sign, sticking a post-it on one pile, "Sign these" and on the other pile, "Keep as your copy."
Trouble is, he sticks the wrong pile, which we dutifully sign - again, getting confused since it has blank pages that we feel we should fill out. The final clue that it was wrong - a stack of documents for "Joe Borrower." Why would he want us to go through paperwork for Joe Borrower?? Dated Aug. 2010??
So we go back to the other pile and realize there are highlights on various pages. Those blank pages we feel we should fill out are now brimming with information that needs our verification.
Well, we sent everything on it's way. Now we've got to wait for the FHA appraiser - with the market being so volatile, will our home be worth what we think? Here's a picture of it. What do you think?
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Observing exponential aging in my husband.
My husband decided to get rid of all the overflowing plants.
 |
| Final Product |
My husband decided to get rid of all the overflowing plants.
The final product is nice, neat and delightful, I must say. I also must say, why, after going through the hassle of chopping down a bleeding plant that oozed white syrup all over the floor, why try to root an avocado pit?? Is he even doing it right??
 |
| Why the new avocado plant? |
Another thing about my husband - he naps, constantly. We wake up at 6:30am, take our granddaughter to pre-school and after returning to a yummy breakfast, he naps.
What I thought was really strange was that during the past weekend, when daylight savings was finally over - you know the saying, "Fall back, Spring forward?"
With that extra hour of sleep, you'd think he'd skip the nap. Nope. Matter of fact, he was even more tired so he took two!
Why couldn't we save him?
Michael Jackson - the King of Pop - died on June 25th, 2009. Finally some measure of justice has been netted because his doctor, Conrad Murray, was found guilty of involuntary manslaughter. He'll be given his sentence on my birthday, 11/29/11.
Bobby died that same year as Michael Jackson. He was my grandson and was only 12 years old. Where will the justice come for him?
He was born with a heart defect and stayed in the hospital for almost 6 months of his newborn life. He received heart surgery even though he was feverish. Doctors wanted him to be healthier and bigger but it wasn't happening. I visited him almost every day while he was there.
He had to use a feeding tube when he was finally allowed to come home. Was I ever scared to feed him? You bet, but it was more important to be a part of his life. In spite of all his difficulties, he was pretty happy. He did have asthma though.
We'd babysit in our home and Grandpa made him laugh hysterically. Grandpa created goofy faces, wierd sounds, or the ultimate gesture, a skewered salute, and Bobby would almost fall to the floor. His whole face crinkled up, his eyes became tiny slits and his head would be tilted to the side with whole-hearted enjoyment.
He loved firemen and at first he'd draw pictures of their trucks and clothes. Eventually he talked us into taking a tour of the station. Now he could draw the bunks, kitchen and poles too! As he gradually perfected his store of information, 9/11 happened to change his life.
He saw those images on TV. Who can really tell the impact they could make on a small child? He constantly talked about it, drew pictures of it and started writing his stories.
They were truly impressive. All kinds of books with diagrams and dialogue. He wrote about the family, his uncles and aunts and my favorite, "Bobby in Wonderland."
We had him read the entire story during our traditional Thanksgiving celebration. While sitting at the kitchen table, Bobby took out his book and read out loud. The room was totally quiet as he clearly read to an enraptured audience of aunts, uncles and cousins. For a child who was diagnosed as possibly autistic and definitely learning disabled, Bobby poured his heart out, reading with passion and maturity beyond his ten years.
My daughter and I had "Bobby days" during out summer break. They shared an album of him with each Bobby day recorded for future reference. He'd draw a summary of what occured that day and Shenel would take pictures of him. All went into that album. I'll never forget his favorite Bobby Day. After a day of outdoor action we split up for a bit with Bobby going across the street to his aunt's home. I wanted to check my email or some such nonsense.
All of a sudden the house shook with an explosion coming from the street. The sewer cap blew up into the air almost landing on one of the neighbors. I was in a panic, worrying about my grandson and daughter across the street.
Shenel called 911. Bobby exclaimed, "You're calling the firemen to come here?"
It seemed to take only a minute before they arrived. Bobby was in his glory. To have the fire department come to him?? Outstanding! We took some great pictures of him with plenty of action that day!
After that summer I didn't see as much of him as I should have. His father and I were embroiled in this battle over the presidential elections - Dino was a Republican at that time. I was a Democrat. We got into stupid arguments and emailed each other ridiculous stories that damaged our relationship. That Christmas I didn't even give Bobby and Nathan their gifts. We usually had our private celebration at Dino's home after all of us finished visiting my sister's home.
That year I noticed that Bobby didn't have much energy, except to eat his favorite food - my spinach pie. He was probably already feeling the discomfort that was to eventually end his life. Looking back to that time now, I realize he was extremely tired and listless. We attributed it to asthma. It was rougher for him than usual.
I gave their gifts to Sara, my younger daughter. She was babysitting with them later that week and gave them the gifts in my behalf.
When Nathan's birthday came in February, we were invited over for a celebration. Things were getting better between Dino and me. My daughter-in-law, wise in so many ways, had this small celebration and hoped it would heal the rift between us. We hugged and had amazing conversations. Shenel took pictures of the kids with Isabel, my new granddaughter. Bobby was crazy about her!
That was the last time I saw him alive.
On March 7th, 2009, he had heart failure. His asthma probably hid or actually was, a heart condition.
I have a hard time talking about the many details surrounding his death. Seeing him, lifeless, in the hospital - the beautiful service at their church, the pot-luck dinner with family and friends - all of it is a haze.
His school and especially his class had a celebration of his life and planted a tree in his honor.
Since my youngest daughter Sara also has what we thought was severe asthma, we decided to pursue the heart condition that might also be afflicting her.
It turns out she has hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. It mimics asthma and is the enlarged heart condition that kills so many young athletes.
So, Bobby saved her life. Why couldn't we save his??
Bobby died that same year as Michael Jackson. He was my grandson and was only 12 years old. Where will the justice come for him?
He was born with a heart defect and stayed in the hospital for almost 6 months of his newborn life. He received heart surgery even though he was feverish. Doctors wanted him to be healthier and bigger but it wasn't happening. I visited him almost every day while he was there.
He had to use a feeding tube when he was finally allowed to come home. Was I ever scared to feed him? You bet, but it was more important to be a part of his life. In spite of all his difficulties, he was pretty happy. He did have asthma though.
We'd babysit in our home and Grandpa made him laugh hysterically. Grandpa created goofy faces, wierd sounds, or the ultimate gesture, a skewered salute, and Bobby would almost fall to the floor. His whole face crinkled up, his eyes became tiny slits and his head would be tilted to the side with whole-hearted enjoyment.
He loved firemen and at first he'd draw pictures of their trucks and clothes. Eventually he talked us into taking a tour of the station. Now he could draw the bunks, kitchen and poles too! As he gradually perfected his store of information, 9/11 happened to change his life.
He saw those images on TV. Who can really tell the impact they could make on a small child? He constantly talked about it, drew pictures of it and started writing his stories.
They were truly impressive. All kinds of books with diagrams and dialogue. He wrote about the family, his uncles and aunts and my favorite, "Bobby in Wonderland."
We had him read the entire story during our traditional Thanksgiving celebration. While sitting at the kitchen table, Bobby took out his book and read out loud. The room was totally quiet as he clearly read to an enraptured audience of aunts, uncles and cousins. For a child who was diagnosed as possibly autistic and definitely learning disabled, Bobby poured his heart out, reading with passion and maturity beyond his ten years.
My daughter and I had "Bobby days" during out summer break. They shared an album of him with each Bobby day recorded for future reference. He'd draw a summary of what occured that day and Shenel would take pictures of him. All went into that album. I'll never forget his favorite Bobby Day. After a day of outdoor action we split up for a bit with Bobby going across the street to his aunt's home. I wanted to check my email or some such nonsense.
All of a sudden the house shook with an explosion coming from the street. The sewer cap blew up into the air almost landing on one of the neighbors. I was in a panic, worrying about my grandson and daughter across the street.
Shenel called 911. Bobby exclaimed, "You're calling the firemen to come here?"
It seemed to take only a minute before they arrived. Bobby was in his glory. To have the fire department come to him?? Outstanding! We took some great pictures of him with plenty of action that day!
After that summer I didn't see as much of him as I should have. His father and I were embroiled in this battle over the presidential elections - Dino was a Republican at that time. I was a Democrat. We got into stupid arguments and emailed each other ridiculous stories that damaged our relationship. That Christmas I didn't even give Bobby and Nathan their gifts. We usually had our private celebration at Dino's home after all of us finished visiting my sister's home.
That year I noticed that Bobby didn't have much energy, except to eat his favorite food - my spinach pie. He was probably already feeling the discomfort that was to eventually end his life. Looking back to that time now, I realize he was extremely tired and listless. We attributed it to asthma. It was rougher for him than usual.
I gave their gifts to Sara, my younger daughter. She was babysitting with them later that week and gave them the gifts in my behalf.
When Nathan's birthday came in February, we were invited over for a celebration. Things were getting better between Dino and me. My daughter-in-law, wise in so many ways, had this small celebration and hoped it would heal the rift between us. We hugged and had amazing conversations. Shenel took pictures of the kids with Isabel, my new granddaughter. Bobby was crazy about her!
That was the last time I saw him alive.
On March 7th, 2009, he had heart failure. His asthma probably hid or actually was, a heart condition.
I have a hard time talking about the many details surrounding his death. Seeing him, lifeless, in the hospital - the beautiful service at their church, the pot-luck dinner with family and friends - all of it is a haze.
His school and especially his class had a celebration of his life and planted a tree in his honor.
Since my youngest daughter Sara also has what we thought was severe asthma, we decided to pursue the heart condition that might also be afflicting her.
It turns out she has hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. It mimics asthma and is the enlarged heart condition that kills so many young athletes.
So, Bobby saved her life. Why couldn't we save his??
Saturday, November 5, 2011
No hassle shopping - or exponential aging with friends
It's like this - when my friends and I went shopping, we saw something we liked, it was on sale, we bought it. Did it for more years than I care to remember.
No hassle shopping.
Yesterday those same friends, K and Sue went to Carson's. First off, I make sure they know I have coupons.
"Don't buy anything without a coupon! 20% off, or $20 off if you spend $50! I have a little one for $10, too."
So, we go our separate ways. When we were young, we'd never do that. We'd stick together like a pack of wolves. (maybe more like a pack of cows, grazing? I can't believe we're the same size when physically we are built so differently.)
K is going to a wedding next weekend and needs jewelry. I'm looking to spend my coupons even though I really don't need a damn thing.
Sue calls me over to K when she's ready to purchase. She's already had the sale rung up by this much older woman. The salewoman is very slight with prominent features - close-set eyes, hooked nose and that burnt out blonde hair that is suppose to hide her grays. (She's close to 80 if not more.)
She asked K if she needed a box for the jewelry and K told her "No."
She was bent over that cash register, concentrating so hard! Total came to close to $100. Sue and I gasped. Then I remembered the coupons.
"K, you're not spending that much, are you? And did you forget I have coupons?"
K tells the saleswoman, "Oh, can you take off these earrings? I really don't need this second pair."
Saleswoman gives her a look and is saying, "Ok but then I have to delete this and start all over."
She seems to think that's going to sway K to change her mind. Like K's gonna tell her, "Oh, I couldn't let you do that. I don't want you to go to all that trouble!"
In the meantime I notice the floor has some kind of crunchy cereal spread all over it. I wouldn't have paid much attention to it but it was slippery as well as crunchy. I could feel my feet losing it's grip and held on to that counter so as not to slide.
The saleslady starts again. I give her the $10 coupon. She rings it all up and it still comes out to over $50.
I exclaim, "Oh wait, don't use that coupon! I have a $20 coupon we could use."
Now the saleslady stares at that new coupon in exasperation. She reads it thoroughly, trying to find a loophole to get out of once again deleting what she just rang up.
The once over she gives K is, to say the least, withering, especially when Sue decides to explain how we used to have such a hard time getting K to buy anything for herself. She'd never buy. We're so happy she's finally spoiling herself after all these years. Yadda yadda yadda ....
You see K lost a shitload of weight these past years.
"I have to delete this again. It'll be the fourth time."
We all know it wasn't the fourth time, but we let her get in her licks. She turned to the cash register and slowly, very slowly, puts in the information, waiting for us to startle her with another demand. We turned away from her. Yeah, we were laughing. She could hear the crunching of that cereal as our feet pulled our body first away then back to face her again.
When she finally returned to the counter she ask K how she wishes to pay. K pulls out a credit card and now that poor woman's eyes are bulging. She grasps that card, wishing it would miraculously change. She also glanced down at that cereal mess we've spread out even worse than before.
"I can't use that card. You're purchase has to be on a Carson's card!"
"I don't have one."
Before she had a chance to stroke out or worse, Sue pulled out her Carson's and said, "Use mine."
The sale was finalized. The saleslady put the jewelry in a box. (Yes, K did say she didn't need one, but who was going to bring that up now?)
We quickly exited out the South doors, with the alarms beeping. Sue's package - as usual. I could only imagine that saleslady watching and probably thinking, "I knew there was something wrong with them!"
All I could think is, what ever happened to no hassle shopping? We use to be so good at it!
No hassle shopping.
Yesterday those same friends, K and Sue went to Carson's. First off, I make sure they know I have coupons.
"Don't buy anything without a coupon! 20% off, or $20 off if you spend $50! I have a little one for $10, too."
So, we go our separate ways. When we were young, we'd never do that. We'd stick together like a pack of wolves. (maybe more like a pack of cows, grazing? I can't believe we're the same size when physically we are built so differently.)
K is going to a wedding next weekend and needs jewelry. I'm looking to spend my coupons even though I really don't need a damn thing.
Sue calls me over to K when she's ready to purchase. She's already had the sale rung up by this much older woman. The salewoman is very slight with prominent features - close-set eyes, hooked nose and that burnt out blonde hair that is suppose to hide her grays. (She's close to 80 if not more.)
She asked K if she needed a box for the jewelry and K told her "No."
She was bent over that cash register, concentrating so hard! Total came to close to $100. Sue and I gasped. Then I remembered the coupons.
"K, you're not spending that much, are you? And did you forget I have coupons?"
K tells the saleswoman, "Oh, can you take off these earrings? I really don't need this second pair."
Saleswoman gives her a look and is saying, "Ok but then I have to delete this and start all over."
She seems to think that's going to sway K to change her mind. Like K's gonna tell her, "Oh, I couldn't let you do that. I don't want you to go to all that trouble!"
In the meantime I notice the floor has some kind of crunchy cereal spread all over it. I wouldn't have paid much attention to it but it was slippery as well as crunchy. I could feel my feet losing it's grip and held on to that counter so as not to slide.
The saleslady starts again. I give her the $10 coupon. She rings it all up and it still comes out to over $50.
I exclaim, "Oh wait, don't use that coupon! I have a $20 coupon we could use."
Now the saleslady stares at that new coupon in exasperation. She reads it thoroughly, trying to find a loophole to get out of once again deleting what she just rang up.
The once over she gives K is, to say the least, withering, especially when Sue decides to explain how we used to have such a hard time getting K to buy anything for herself. She'd never buy. We're so happy she's finally spoiling herself after all these years. Yadda yadda yadda ....
You see K lost a shitload of weight these past years.
"I have to delete this again. It'll be the fourth time."
We all know it wasn't the fourth time, but we let her get in her licks. She turned to the cash register and slowly, very slowly, puts in the information, waiting for us to startle her with another demand. We turned away from her. Yeah, we were laughing. She could hear the crunching of that cereal as our feet pulled our body first away then back to face her again.
When she finally returned to the counter she ask K how she wishes to pay. K pulls out a credit card and now that poor woman's eyes are bulging. She grasps that card, wishing it would miraculously change. She also glanced down at that cereal mess we've spread out even worse than before.
"I can't use that card. You're purchase has to be on a Carson's card!"
"I don't have one."
Before she had a chance to stroke out or worse, Sue pulled out her Carson's and said, "Use mine."
The sale was finalized. The saleslady put the jewelry in a box. (Yes, K did say she didn't need one, but who was going to bring that up now?)
We quickly exited out the South doors, with the alarms beeping. Sue's package - as usual. I could only imagine that saleslady watching and probably thinking, "I knew there was something wrong with them!"
All I could think is, what ever happened to no hassle shopping? We use to be so good at it!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)