VALUE CAN ONLY BE DETERMINED BY THE OWNER

          Posting about having a garage sale made me think of the first time John and I had a serious argument about something I did without consulting him. I don’t think we’d even been married a year. I know we were living in the little house in Ballard, and it was probably spring because that’s when you do your spring cleaning…right?

          Anyway, I was John’s wife, mistress of his life so why would I need to check with him when I began cleaning out the closet and dresser drawers. I mean, really, it was right there in the marriage vows wasn’t it? What was his is mine and what’s mine is his and those vows endowed me with the power to make decisions about his clothes and stuff. So, I cleaned out his side of the closet as well as mine. I had never been a saver, i.e., if I didn’t wear it or came to dislike it, then it went in the Goodwill box.

          John had this pair of white Levi’s that had been patched innumerable times by his mother. The jeans were more patch than original fabric. At that point I had never owned a pair of Levi’s and had no idea that the longer you had them and wore them, the softer and more comfortable they became. To me, all those patches represented being poor and there was no need for him to keep them since he had other good pairs of jeans. Into the Goodwill box they went.

          John also had an unbelievably ugly mustard-yellow corduroy jacket. He’d put it on once with a red and white patterned shirt…so ugly. It looked horrible and I insisted he wear something else. After all, I was the fashionista, not him. So, since I hated that jacket and couldn’t ever see myself going out in public with him if he was wearing it, into the Goodwill box it went as well.

          The final insult as far as John was concerned was the fact, he took the boxes out of the car trunk and put them into the Goodwill bin. When he found out he’d tossed his favorite jeans and that wonderful jacket into the bin, he was so angry, I’m sure if he could have said, “I divorce thee; I divorce thee; I divorce thee.” and never had to see me again, he just might have done exactly that.

          Since he died last August, I’ve gotten rid of a whole bunch of stuff without asking him if it was okay. I’m sure if he was in a grave, he’d be rolling over and over in an absolute snit. I gave away 25 boxes of Playboy magazines…yes, GAVE away. I took another four or five huge boxes of Maxim magazines to the recycle station. It gave me great pleasure, plus added a lot of steps to my Fitbit that day, to carry and toss those magazines. In the process of cleaning out all those file cabinets, I found a bunch of jewelry that definitely didn’t belong to me. Who knows where it came from? Someone suggested I take it to Bellevue Rare Coins. I did and was very thankful I didn’t toss that stuff into a Goodwill box. The absolute ugliest pieces of jewelry were 18 caret gold…imagine. 

Besides what I did, the boys and I went through a stuff in the garage and then through what he had stored in the extra space he rented. Again, there was so much that didn’t have a value and that ended up in either recycle or the garbage. The eldest son kept saying, “What was dad thinking?”. I certainly didn’t have an answer.

Not too long ago, I read an article written by a woman who had just finished cleaning out her mother’s home. She hired an estate sale company to take care of the whole thing, but learned a number of things. No one is interested in good china or crystal…may as well enjoy tossing it on the floor and breaking it. No one is interested in brown furniture…may as well cut it up for firewood. Apparently, the only items that have any value are good jewelry, firearms, and I cannot remember what the third thing was…maybe sterling silver? I looked for the article, but could not find it again.

So, I guess the absolute best thing would be to order a dumpster (Can you hear John screaming?) and simply begin to fill it with all the stuff in the house, the attic and the garage that isn’t needed or necessary…this would include eliminating as much of my own stuff as possible in the process. I think I’ll have a garage sale first though and see if I can’t make a bit of change from some of it. I figure if I start now and go room by room, pricing and boxing, then it shouldn’t be too hard come the end of July. Then, whatever’s left can go in the dumpster…John, don’t you come haunting me now. 

TO GARAGE SALE OR NOT GARAGE SALE

         In a post the other day, I said I HAVE TO get John’s bedroom cleaned out. I believe I’ve posted before that he was a hoarder and saved all kinds of worthless stuff. What’s left in that room now may be stuff that’s worth something, but I’ll only find that out if I proceed to go through it all, do some research and figure out how and where to market these “valuables.”      

  

         Lately, I’ve been toying with the idea of holding a garage sale, perhaps the end of July or the beginning of August. It’s been a very long time since I held a garage sale and I had John to assist me then. I’m sure my sons would be happy to give me a hand on an as needed basis provided that basis wasn’t every weekend between now and July.

          Actually, I'm even toying with the idea of having a HUGE ESTATE sale and opening up the house in order to sell anything within that I haven't put aside for myself. This would be in preparation for selling the house and moving to someplace that wouldn't require the amount of hard work and care this house does. It would be a huge adjustment after living here for 51 years, but perhaps it's more than time for a change.

         Does anyone reading this out there have any advice they’d like to share about garage sales, getting rid of stuff, researching what stuff might be worth, or selling the home and its contents? I know I can google almost any item and get some kind of response. Still, it would be great to benefit from someone else’s experience.

          Come on now…the more advice and/or ideas the better. Thanks so very much in advance!!!

FINANCES AND INCOME TAX

        Are you a list maker? I am and I just made a list of important work I need to get done tvery soon. (1) I need to prepare my 2019 income taxes; (2) I need to complete the form requesting my property taxes be reduced and submit it; (3) I need to go online and update my medical file for the physical exam I scheduled for March. These are the big three and in addition to the ordinary stuff that’s always on the list, i.e., laundry, vacuum, dust, grocery shop, etc., etc., etc.

          The first item on the list tend is an annual event that has pissed me off and annoyed the heck out of me for decades. That’s because I didn’t want to have to do any of the money stuff in my marriage. I simply wanted and expected a husband that would go to work, come home, pay the bills and take care of any pesky financial stuff that came up, like assuring our golden years would be debt free and fun.

          Silly me, drunk with Cinderella Syndrome back in the late 1960s, I expected John to work at a job for all our married life while I took on the part of Mrs. “Cleaver” Karlberg. I’d keep a beautiful home, cook wonderful meals and raise brilliant happy beautiful children.

Those expectations did work out from the get go…I should have run screaming into the night right after the honeymoon when John suggested we each keep our own checking accounts. So, that’s what we did for all our years of marriage although we each had our name on the other’s account. As a matter of fact, I have a check to deposit because I just closed John’s account at his bank…no, we didn’t even have the same bank.            

          I almost always had at least a half-time job and eventually came to earn far more than John, only because he had his own business and didn’t pay himself well at all. According to John, it cost too much in taxes for him to have much of an income. So, the bulk of budgeting, paying bills, doing the paperwork and filing taxes for John’s company, as well as taxes for us personally fell to me.

          I’m not exactly sure why it developed in this manner. I know we did try to reverse the situation more than once. I’m not a genius when it comes to math, but it was somehow easier for me take care of our financial business. And, I suppose it was actually a good thing because it was me paying into the retirement system that allowed us/me to retire and continue to pay the bills each month. John’s “costs too much to pay into social security” netted him less than half of what I receive.

          This year I don’t have anyone to grumble to or at when I begin dragging all the papers from the files. I also won’t need an additional signature when it comes time to submit anything. Somehow knowing I’ll be signing everything as just me, myself and I, makes John’s absence seem, once again, more infinite. It truly makes me wonder how it will be in 2021. Will I still become pissed off and annoyed when it comes time to fill out the tax forms? Or, will I simply sail through it because it’s just me, myself and I?

YESTERDAY...

Was not a good day. I didn’t get a single thing written. I was/am very depressed even though I walked, went to exercise class and did my physical therapy. I kept and keep reminding myself that I “choose” how I’m feeling, but sometimes the day can hold surprises that are horrid, seem very unfair, and provide a picture of myself that I feel I don’t deserve and that is totally unwarranted. It’s because of the source of those feelings that I am feeling so depressed even though I’ve tried to choose not to be.

          Perhaps today will be a better day. To begin, I’m going back to bed for a while longer.

          I wish y’all a wonderful day.

GRANDCHILDREN BLESSINGS

          It’s Sunday afternoon and I’m hoping I can keep my eyes open until at least 9:00 pm. I had the grandkids, Arayli and Xander, for the day yesterday and overnight last night. All went well during the day. We played games and I introduced them to Mexican Train. We played one more game this morning before I took them home and Xander won. We also went to the park yesterday since it wasn’t raining and Xander played on all the equipment, Arayli practiced basketball and I wandered around watching them both.

Arayli (11) and Xander (5)

          Nana also ordered two new movies from Red Box. Some Dora movie that Xander picked out and Maleficent for Arayli. Xander really liked Maleficent, but Arayli spent more time on her phone and Tic-Tok (whatever that is), than she did watching her movie.

          Tired from the day’s activities, birthday dinner making, etc., as well as sporadic sleep Friday night, I was happy to pack Xander and myself off to bed around 10:00 pm. Arayli was on the couch and going to watch a little TV before she retired.

As we older people tend to do, I got up at 1:25 am to pee and found Xander sitting in his bed crying. I hadn’t heard him and have no idea how long he’d been awake. I sent him to my bed, went pee and returned to join him in a twin bed. Well, he’s a hot (as in temperature) little bundle and snores like a longshoreman (I have no idea how longshoremen snore, but it shounded good), so I got out of bed and tried sleeping in my recliner. I know some people say they sleep really well in their recliners, but that’s not the case for me.

I sort of dozed on and off the remainder of the night. When the dogs began making noise at 8:40 am, I rushed out, hoping they hadn’t waked the kids. I put them out and began making myself a latte. My hope of having five minutes all to myself before Arayli and Xander woke up came to naught. Arayli showed up in the living room before I let the dogs back in and Xander came out before my latte was done.

Needless to say, Nana was a trifle crabby today. The kids, of course, were raring to go immediately. Xander wanted to know even before my first sip of coffee if we could play train now. Then Arayli asked if we could play train. I managed to put them off until after we’d all been showered, shampooed and they had packed up their stuff.

In times past, I could have put Xander, or even Arayli, in Grandpa’s big bed with him and the doggies. And until the last six months to a year before he died, John would have been up with them and letting me have a bit more time in my bed. I seriously missed John and his consideration of my needs this morning. I soldiered on alone and think/hope Arayli and Xander had a good “boring” time at Nana’s.

Their visit also made me realize I simply HAVE TO finish cleaning out John’s room. As it is now, the bed is covered with boxes, empty and stuffed, as well as a variety of other items. I’ve already been asked a few times if I was going to move back into the martial bed/bedroom. I think if I’m going to have the grandkids overnight often, then it’s an absolute necessity I free up that room and that bed…whether I inhabit it or not.

DOES IT REALLY MATTER???

         One of the things I’ve noticed about being a widow and living alone is an attitude of not really caring. Since it’s just me and the doggies here, does it really matter if I vacuum or dust? Sure, if I expect family or friends to visit; then, of course, I go through the motions of making the house more presentable. (Although, I have to admit I entertained family yesterday without pulling out the vacuum or wielding the dust cloth...for shame, for shame, for shame.) But, on a day to day basis, I don’t really give much of a shit…to be profane about it.

          When John was alive, I kept a clean and fairly normal house, but he’s no longer here; and why I did it when he was alive, I don’t really know. He didn’t much care how the house looked; and judging by the dust and dog hair in his bedroom, we could have easily lived like a couple of hoarders and it wouldn’t have mattered in the least to him. I think I’ve posted his opinion on my cleaning before company comes…what’s the point since the company is just going to mess it all up anyway.

          Then, there’s the living plants throughout the house. I’ve always had living plants in my home. At one point in time, there were plants in hangers I macraméd
in front of each and every window of this house. Now, the plants reside in the

bathroom, living, dining rooms and kitchen. I know family would rather I get rid of the ones in the bathroom so I wouldn’t have to climb a ladder to water. Some times I think about just giving them all away so I don’t have to care for them any longer. Then, I think about this house and how cold it would look without those living specimens.

          What I’m left wondering about at this point is whether my ceasing to care about the dust, dirt, dog hair and plants is an indication of depression? If that’s the case, why don’t I feel depressed? Believe me, I don’t really think I’m depressed and in need of some form of medication to make it all better.

          Growing up, my mother and father both worked; and once my grandma moved to California when I was 12, I became the main housekeeper. I didn’t have to do laundry or anything like that, but vacuuming, dusting and keeping things tidy was really up to me. I continued that when I moved into my own apartment, into the house John and I rented at the beginning of our marriage and then into this house. At one point in time…actually more than one point, more like years…you could have eaten your dinner, or any meal for that matter, off my floors. My windows sparkled spring and fall. And, I held either a permanent part-time job or a full-time job while raising children and keeping a clean and gleaming home. 

         

So, now, what’s my problem? I don’t honestly know except I don’t feel much like vacuuming most days. And, dusting, well, what’s the point when it just comes back before you even get to enjoy the dirt-free tables and knick-knacks. I probably wouldn't even do much laundry except for the fact my closet and dresser drawers are not bottomless. I feel like I should be ashamed of myself for not caring so much as a real whit…and what is a whit anyway…about how it all looks. Again, am I depressed or just relaxing after a lifetime of keeping things in order?

          I find myself wanting to do other things like sit at this computer and compose stuff for my blog, or read emails, or look at Facebook. I’d rather meet someone for lunch or dinner or go to a movie. I have a stack of papers and brochures I've saved that detail hikes and places and events I want to attend. With spring just around the corner, I'd rather be out mucking about in the dirt instead of cleaning it up.  

        

          This is a quandary for me. After 74 years of cleaning, polishing, laundering, and everything else it takes to keep house, why am I now feeling as though those things are time wasters, that I have so many other things I can do instead? Is it because I feel my time is becoming more limited with each passing day? Am I just lazy? I don’t have an answer for myself.

Is feeling like this part of the grieving process? Is feeling like this perfectly normal? Is it a phase that I’ll go through that will eventually end? Does anyone have any answers or insights to share with regard to how I’m feeling? I believe I could certainly benefit from counsel from other widows/widowers who have gone through this because right now, it rather sucks and I’d much prefer to feel way better than I do currently.

HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY THOR!!!!

          Today is my youngest son’s 40^th birthday, his first one without his dad. His older brother had his first birthday without his dad last September, but I hadn’t begun to write about how John’s death affected me or my sons. I’m sorry for that now because I’m sure it was very difficult for AJ to party barely a month after his dad’s passing and not even ten days after John’s life celebration. I wasn’t thinking about any of this at that point in time. I guess it was too new to process.

          Still, we celebrated AJ’s 49^th birthday last September and today, we’ll celebrate Thor’s 40^th. As I did with AJ’s, I’ll continue with the custom or preparing the celebrant’s favorite dinner, established who knows how many years ago. I’ll make Heart Attack in a Bowl, better known as Baked Potato Soup. It will be served with Caesar salad, garlic bread and crackers. In the past, I’ve made Thor’s favorite, German chocolate cake, but with the cold that’s still sapping my energy, I’ve asked Thor’s wife to take care of getting the cake and ice cream.

          We’ll all be there to watch the candles be lighted, one of the kids will play the little music box of Happy Birthday, and we’ll all sing the Happy Birthday song to Thor. It will be pretty much like years past; except we are all one year older and John’s voice will no longer ring out as we sing.

I cannot speak for Thor or any other family member, but I will miss John’s presence and the way we often looked at each other with pride in the boys we raised. We never discussed it at any length or in great depth, but we both loved these progenies, even when they were the most exasperating individuals in our lives.

 Thor’s baby book carries the story of how and when he was conceived. It was in the back of a 1972 VW camper van in the back yard of Mabel and Bud Owen’s home in Montesano Washington on Memorial Day weekend 1979. John and I were so pleased with AJ and parenthood, we’d decided to have another child, but Mother Nature would not cooperate. We were encouraged to visit our friends in Montesano because everyone there was pregnant…it has to be the water I was told. This was going to be our last attempt because AJ would be ten in 1980 and the house would be paid for…why begin again.

Thor 2/22/80

Mother Nature granted our desire and when we returned to see our friends for the July 4^th weekend, we were happily pregnant. AJ was especially excited and wanted a sister whom he would name Rebecca. John also wanted a girl as did I so we’d have a complete set, but, somehow, I knew during the comfortable and easy pregnancy that I was carrying another boy.

February photos with John must be 

in baby book. This from 8/80.

In addition to my being pregnant, four other women I knew were as well and we were all due in February. I was the last to head for the hospital, five days after the last of the other four went. Of the five of us, two had boys and three had girls, but most importantly, they were all healthy and whole.

Mom walking for her Certificate

Such good posture

Thor was also born on the day of my mother’s graduation from school. Since I couldn’t be there, I insisted John and AJ attend and take photographs. They all came to the hospital the following day. Unfortunately, I did have a problem when I gave birth, so the doctor kept me there an extra couple of days.

The day Thor and I went home had a couple of difficulties. I had no idea I absolutely had to have the baby car seat in the car in order to bring my baby home. After much dithering, we were allowed to leave with Thor, but he and I had to ride in the back seat. The other problem was AJ had become ill. John took him to the doctor on the way to get us, and it turned out he had strep throat. The nurses were very understanding and provided face masks for him to use and instructed him/us about washing his hands, etc., to keep his new baby healthy.

Photo of AJ in mask must be 

in Thor’s baby book

I have photos of AJ in his face mask holding his little brother as soon as we arrived home. That bond strengthened and grew as did the brothers. Just let one of the older kids in the neighborhood give Thor grief and AJ was ready to go take care of the problem. Thor, in turn, looked up to his big brother and potty trained himself before his second birthday. His brother and dad stood up to pee, so forget these diapers and let me at the toilet. Had I to do it all over again, I would have taught my boys to sit down and pee. As it was, once they were each old enough, cleaning the bathroom became their job once a week. After all, I wasn’t the one that “dripped” on the toilet and floor.

As boys grew up and matured, they became less close…ten years does make a difference at some point. AJ was out of school, going to college and Thor was just beginning middle school. AJ found the woman he married, and Thor wasn’t yet sure if he needed a girl/woman in his life. AJ accepted permanent employment with the Seattle Parks Department from which he’ll eventually retire. Thor had some medical issues which sidetracked him from his chosen career of diesel mechanic to working for his father’s company, and then on to several completely different in every way jobs.

Now, at 50 later this year and 40 today, I believe they are supportive of each other. I absolutely love the way they relive old times, share new experiences and laugh together. AJ gave us our granddaughter 18+ years ago. Thor gave us our grandson 5+ years ago, plus an additional two grandchildren that were gifted by his wife who call me Nana and called John Grandpa.

So, today, we’ll celebrate Thor’s 40^th. There will be smiles, laughter, tales told about other birthdays and events. I’ll make sure John’s ball is lighted and know that while his voice will not join with ours today, he’ll still be there in each and every single memory of each and every single birthday celebration we’ve previously held for Thor.

I thought that last paragraph was the last one, but suddenly my eyes are filling and all the memories that have crowded my mind as I looked up old polaroids and photos and wrote this are causing me both pleasure and pain. The pleasure comes from the wonderful memories I have of parenting Thor with John. The pain comes from knowing those memories became finite last August. I’m glad I was numb last September for AJ’s birthday because this happy occasion simply, and unexpectedly, hurts.