Gravehopping and Finding My Way Home

My favorite song about home is “Can’t Find My Way Home” by Blind Faith. The summer of 1989 my life-long group of high school friends and I saw Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young at Alpine Valley. 

We started the aimless trudge through the parking lot on the hunt for Eric’s Ford Escort, when Rolf called “Shotgun!” When we found the car, 45 minutes later, by parking lot etiquette, Rolf sat in the passenger seat and I sat in the back seat of what was really, quite a teeny, tiny little car. 

That Blind Faith song was on a “mix tape” stuck in Eric’s cassette player. I swear to god we heard that song two dozen times. I fell asleep at one point so that may be a low-ball estimate.

We were driving to Madison without a map, just some sketchy directions and a lot of pot. Did I mention we were all totally high the entire night? That probably explains why we shrieked like Howler Monkeys when we finally got to someone’s brother’s cousin’s house we’d been searching for in Madison.

“Home” has had multiple locations and connotations throughout my life. Geographically “home” has included Appleton, Boston, Neenah, Menasha, Milwaukee, Green Bay, Oconomowoc, and Shawano. The consistent location of home has always been Shawano. My maternal grandparents spent their entire lives there, or within the “suburbs” of Wescott and Richmond. My grandma grew up on what was or would become the Menominee Rez. My parents met and married there. I was baptized three weeks after being born there because my father was shipping out to Basic Training before deploying to Vietnam. While he was in country my mother and I lived with her parents, my Grandpa and Grandma Krause. 

We moved to Appleton within weeks of my second birthday, but still, Shawano was Home. When we were leaving after a weekend there, Grandma would kiss us gently on both cheeks and say, “Now you come home again soon.” Her cheeks were soft like powered pillows. I cannot remember a single time when leaving that house without hearing her speak those words.

Sometime in early 2003 my sister and I discovered that on Saturdays of Memorial Day Weekends, our grandparents and our grandma’s two sisters and their husbands, our great-aunts and great-uncles, spent the day driving to the graves of our ancestors. They cleaned off the headstones, pulled out the fake, faded flowers from last Memorial Day Weekend and stuck in a bouquet of new, brighter fake flowers, and shared stories on the drive to the three cemeteries they visited. With their tasks complete, they stopped at a tavern in Red River, another Shawano suburb. In this part of Wisconsin there are no “bars” – far too “big city.” These were taverns. They had supper at one of dozens of supper clubs they could choose from. Places we went to when I was kid and thought eating frog legs made me “exotic” and “sophisticated.” I was eight years old.

Saturday of Memorial Day Weekend 2003 my sister and I tailed along with our grandparents, great-aunt Margaret and great-uncle Dave, great-aunt Shirley and great-Uncle Butch. Butch and Shirley had an enormous Suburban with a back row tiny enough to rival the back seat of my friend Eric’s Ford Escort, which is where my sister and I sat. I swear to god every time we stopped at a cemetery, tavern or the supper club, Margaret would forget my sister and I in that cocoon and shut the door without letting us out of the car. That was the only way we could get out and every stinkin’ time she forgot, we knocked on the window looking forlorn and pissed off at the same time.

Every year at her grandmother’s grave, a woman I never met yet lives inside of me, my grandma said, “There was never a better grandma than her.” Every year I said, “She has a run for her money because you’re the best grandma there ever is.” She held me a little closer and said, “I can only hope so, Dolly.” She called all five of her granddaughters “Dolly”.

It didn’t take long before my maternal aunts and cousins filtered in to Gravehopping with us on the Saturday of Memorial Day Weekends. The more we gained, the more we lost. We all lose those we love to the inevitable unknown of Death. It may come fast or slow, tragically or peacefully, but still, it comes. There can be no other way. Margaret was the first of “the Golden Girls”, as we referred to them, to pass in 2010. Then it was Grandma in 2016 and finally Shirley in 2018.

My husband and I moved to Green Bay in August 2019 for my new job. With the help of Siri, Irish accent version, I can now find more places than the casino, the airport and the stadium which was the extent of my geographical knowledge of this town until moving here.

As Memorial Day Weekend closed in around me this spring, plans for Gravehopping were made. As I was writing down ingredients for Cucumber Salad, my signature dish and meal contribution since Grandma died, I stood in my kitchen and suddenly dropped my pencil, my notepad, and I couldn’t shut the cupboard door because I was literally paralyzed. I didn’t blink, I don’t remember breathing although obviously I was, I stood there with one thought banging inside of my skull: From where I stood, I didn’t know how to find my way Home.

Shawano has been my true north since conception. Not knowing exactly how to get there is akin to fate shaking me like a snow globe only when I land, the earth is sand, the air is stiffening fog and I have no voice.

Just like so many decades before when trying to reach Madison without a map made driving monotonous and pointless, I felt that way about driving up to Shawano. For the first time in my life I couldn’t find my way Home. 

Of course, Irish Siri got me to my aunt’s house easily. Gravehopping was accomplished and is in the books for another year. However, if I had to get in my car right now and drive to Shawano, I couldn’t do it...without GPS. In the genuine sense of the lyric, “I can’t find my way home.”

Where Do I Begin?

First of all, there's got to be more font options than the seven shown to me, in addition to "Default." What the hell is "default"? Rhetorical. No comments or instructions please. 

06/14/2020 was the one year anniversary of me leaving my employer of roughly eight or nine years. Here's a secret I'll share if you promise not to tell anyone: Theirs is a name I do not speak (or type) for fear of getting myself in more trouble with the higher-ups than my big mouth/opinionated, free-thinking brain/First Amendment rights have already gotten me into.

By experience of leaving this employer once before, maybe I should have expected the shit-show my life has been for the past year. I left for approximately six months approximately eight years ago and got into trouble for expressing myself via this same blog at that new employer. I guess unless I choose a nom de plume, I'm always at risk of being reported to the higher ups, which is something I continue to struggle to wrap my brain around. I'm too afraid to say anything more than that in this medium.

I've previously posted about the nightmare moving to Green Bay was logistically, fuck ups with the cable company, the moving company, the utility company. I'm sure sometime after 06/14/2019 I posted about the stress commuting from Menasha to Waupaca, then suddenly commuting from Menasha to Green Bay two days a week (of course not consecutive days because that would've made too much fucking common sense) and continuing to commute to Waupaca on three non-consecutive days a week.

I absolutely loved working at King. Don't confuse that with I loved the work I did at King. I started working there full time on 06/17/19 and was told on 06/21/19 that the King program was closing by 09/03/19 and the focus of all staff was on successfully moving 26 veterans into stable housing. As a therapist that task wasn't in my wheelhouse. 

What I loved about working at the Wisconsin Veteran's Home at King includes the following:

1) A family connection: My Grandpa Porath (paternal grandpa) spent the last years of his life at King & when we visited he'd take us to the three lane bowling alley, show us where the local water skiing group performed on the lake weekly for the veterans during the summer, and the quaint whitewashed cottages where  married couples lived (currently these cottages stand vacant, however the last I heard was that they couldn't be demolished because of their lead paint or asbestos level so they were going to be refurbished for safe habitation). This is the place where my Grandpa Porath died.

2) Watching the veterans fish: Veterans from our Program and other veterans spent hours each day at the designated fishing  docks located behind the building that housed the Post Office, the volunteer office, and the KX. I can't remember the name of the building and don't want to Google it just for the sake of naming it in a rather unremarkable blog.

3) Although trying to find a parking spot close to the building any employee actually worked in was a challenge of strategy and patience, driving around the campus was beautiful. The Veterans Home at King somewhat resembles a small, mid-western or east coast college campus. You need to look beyond the institutional buildings to see the mini golf course, the gazebos, the pure and clear lake-shoreline, the grand Commandants House, the flower window boxes on the cottages, the bell chiming from the Pilgrim-like white steepeled church. Sounds remarkably like Amherst or Holyoke, Mass to me.

4) The other veterans I didn't work with. One thing I quickly learned working on the King campus is that the vast majority of veterans I would encounter showed me gentlemanly respect by letting me cross a threshold before they did, enter and exit an elevator before they did, and greet me with "Good morning" or "Have a nice weekend" before I did. There was a veteran who often spent time on a bench swing right around the time I left work. Minimally I sat down with him once a week and we chatted. He talked about his wife and son who were both "gone with God" and he'd tell me about his wife's funeral right at the chapel across the green space from where we were lightly swinging. Every time I sat down to talk with him he told me the exact same stories. As the time of my transfer to Green Bay drew closer and closer, I told him I was going to miss talking with him after work. His response: "Well, you just think of me here on this swing young lady and I'll tell you about my wife and son someday. My wife's funeral was right here at that chapel" (he was pointing across the green space to the small steepeled church where the bells toll every hour) and I thanked him for his generosity for sharing his stories with me. 
Since I no longer needed to carry a small suitcase on wheels to and from work, I began carrying a large-ish, gray twill shoulder bag with my initials embroidered in burgundy on one side. About twice a week one particular veteran would be sitting outside when I left the building where I worked while I headed to my car. With my initials facing the outside of my bag, he'd call to me, "Have a good evening KS!" I'd wave and call back to him, "You too sir!"  I never learned his name, but I hope that if Grandpa Porath ever offered good night wishes to someone, that person would've sent the same wish back to him. (I have to admit that Rog takes after Grandpa Porath in his stoicism and I really can't imagine my paternal grandfather or my father just calling out well wishes to a complete stranger, but who knows? This scenario is my fantasy.)

That's the best way I can express the blanket of depression I've been wrapped in for the past year. Sometimes it feels as light as a high thread count sheet and at other times it feels as heavy as a lead radiology cover.

So I've begun sharing about work, to the best of my ability while fearing I may lose my job or get officially written up and placed on a corrective action plan which would totally fucking suck.

Anyone know the phone number to the local ACLU office? 😳😳😳

Moving: A nightmare in Seven Acts

My last post specifically addressed the run-around about setting up new cable and internet services at the house we moved into in Green Bay.

There is a general check-list of tasks that are required to complete when moving. I swear to God most of those tasks were fucked up by human error almost from the very moment I decided to take a new job with a non-profit, grant funded foundation, Veterans Assistance Foundation (VAF) who is my actual employer. We (VAF) implements several USDVA (US Dept of Veterans Affairs) and WDVA (WI Dept of Veterans Affairs) grants known as the Veterans Housing and Recovery Program. 

I started working full time for the VHRP located at the WI Veterans Home in King. It's the 2nd largest veterans home in the country and the oldest veterans home in the US. My paternal grandfather spent the last years of his life at King. It's a beautiful campus full of trees along the banks of the Chain O' Lakes, has historical buildings such as the Commandants House, many cottages where couples who didn't need  24/7 nursing care once lived, and a church that tolls the bells at the start of each hour. There's a three lane bowling alley, fishing docks, and the local water skiing group provides free performances for all of the veterans throughout the summer.

My first day of full time employment as the Clinical Case Manager was Monday June 17, 2019. I didn't apply for this job. The VAF Executive Director found my resume on the Wisconsin Job Site and although King was 15 miles outside of my preferred work location, something in my resume struck her to contact me and schedule an interview. I was offered a full time position in King on my birthday, May 14, 2019. 

On Friday, June 21, 2019. the last day of my first week of full time work all of the staff were told that the grant funding all of our services and salaries was ending on Monday, September 30, 2019. The day before, Thursday June 20th, I toured an awesome townhouse in Waupaca that Mark, Apollo, and I would love to live in. I told the realtor that we'd be back on Saturday to complete the applications. Before I left for home in Menasha on Friday, I called her and said why we are no longer interested.

From 06-21-19 until 09-04-19 I commuted from Menasha to King, or from Menasha to Green Bay. VHRP has a location in Bellevue and their Clinical Case Manager had submitted his resignation in mid-June. People from WDVA told the Executive Director of VAF and Site Director in Green Bay to "stand down" and not accept more resumes or interview candidates for their open position. Neither of them knew why until the week before I started at King.

So that wraps up the fucked up-ness of my work for while. There's more to come.

On Saturday 08-10-19 I spoke with "the movers" to confirm a move date of Friday 08-16-19. I called to confirm the date and time on Monday 08-12-19 and was told that "The order was written up but not confirmed for a move on August 16th." The next time they were available to move us was Thursday, 08-22-19. Well that fucked up my work plans and I spent that night in Menasha, sleeping on a twin bed we kept in our second bedroom that I moved into what had been our living room. During the time between 08-22 and 09-04 I was driving from Menasha to King, or from Green Bay to King so it made sense to stay at my parents' house in Appleton on most of those overnighters. God forbid I work consecutive days at one location. If I spent two or three days in King, I'd stay at my parents' house in Appleton. If I spent two or three days in Green Bay, I'd stay at my actual house.

When we moved on 08-22-19, around 2pm there was a screeching sound of car brakes that could shatter glass. It turns out that a female driver in her early to mid-20s and a male passenger about the same age came screaming up Douseman Avenue, drove up between the sidewalk and our yard, sheered off the bark of a tree and plowed into the front of an RV parked in our neighbors yard. The passenger got out of the vehicle without any physical injuries. The female driver was turning a bluish-gray color so I performed sternum rubs while yelling at her to wake up and come around back to us. Thank God there was a nurse there to end the "should we pull her out/should we keep her in the car" debate that raged in the background. The police, fire department and paramedics arrived all within minutes of each other and I stepped away to let them do their thing. The police wanted to talk with everyone who witnessed the erratic driving and the end result of the driver plowing into the RV. I spoke with the Team Leader of the movers and agreed that 2 hours would be deducted from the total hours of our move because really, how often do 3 of the movers have  to provide police statements??

During our move over Labor Day Weekend, we asked our neighbors in Menasha to help us pack up whatever was left from the professional movers. They totally agreed. On Saturday 08-31-19 Mark & I drove to Menasha and our neighbors were already at work, including a woman who our female neighbor said "Was a friend of mine who stopped by earlier and we just walked over." By the end of the day, I discovered that one of my prescriptions for ADHD was gone from where I stored my meds. The unknown chick had stolen them. Plus, after checking all of my other meds, she had taken a small handful, maybe 8 capsules, of an old, expired bottle of Gabapentin. Our neighbor provided all of the information she supposedly knew about her, as did I to the Menasha Police Dept. In order to get my shrink to re-order the Adderall before the refill date I had to file a police report which I had NO problem doing. One viewpoint, for those of you that know my experience with recovery, could be to pray/send out positive vibes to the Universe that she finally gets the help she needs. Another viewpoint, and the one I currently subscribe to, is I hope that fucking peroxide bottle-blond fat bitch gets exactly what she deserves and will soon be wearing orange smocks and pants for a long fucking time.

The last week of October it dawned on me that although I had set up our electrical and heating services with FSS, (the acronym has been changed to protect the guilty) on 09-02-19, we hadn't yet received a bill. I called FSS and spoke to a young woman who told me "Yes, I see here that you called on September second to have the account transferred into your name, but for some reason that order was not put through and your bill has been going to [insert our landlord's name here.]" The very next day we received our FSS bill from our landlord which totaled $300.

To be on the safe side I contacted the Water & Sewer Department just to double check that everything was in our name. The young woman I spoke to confirmed that the account was indeed all set up accurately, then told me that, although we had originally selected the "budget plan" which allows customers to pay the same amount each quarter, $156 for us. During the previous quarter the amount of water used was greater than the budgeted dollar amount so going forward  our quarterly budgeted dollar amount was now $189.

I had been paying $1890 a month for COBRA coverage for me and Mark. An insane amount, I know but the American health care system truly has "one by the short hairs" if you don't have a plan with a third party payer. When I completed the insurance application for group coverage with VAF, I SO wished I had lied on the paperwork and stated that I was without coverage at the time I completed the application. Because I didn't, my new insurance carrier wouldn't provide us coverage until our current COBRA coverage ended. Well in theory I could carry COBRA for 18 months after my employment with LSS ended, which would be December 2020. In the end I chose to end our COBRA coverage on 10-31-19. I was assured by my Site Director that as of 11-01-19 Mark and I would have insurance coverage through VAF. Well, that didn't happen either. We received our insurance cards on Friday, 11-15-19. During the time from 11-01-19 to 11-15-19 I had an appointment with my shrink (which, God bless this man's heart he waived the fees for) and Mark and I both ran around greater Green Bay to get prescriptions refilled using GoodRx.

So, as a wrap up to the services we used while moving that were fucked up, include:
Cable & internet: Late, order for installation not put through by employee
Moving company: Late, order for move date pushed out because an employee didn't put the order through
Stable employment: Started at King on 06-17-19, was told on 06-21-19 that King program was closing and I'd need to work at both King & Green Bay while program closure happened; eventually began working in Green Bay full time on 09-06-19
Heat & Electricity: Late, contacted FSS on 09-02-19 but order to put bill in correct name was not completed  by staff until I called in early October & current bill due is $300
Water/Sewer: budget plan originally set up at $156 per quarter but because last quarter's use was greater than $156, new quarterly budget payment is $189.
Ended COBRA insurance and pharmacy coverage on 10-31-19 but new group insurance and pharmacy plan not available until 10-15-19
Police Report: Friend of neighbor helping us pack in Menasha, stole my stimulant medication and I needed to file police report to get medication refilled before due date, insurance wouldn't cover early refill so used Good Rx and paid $69 when medication cost was $20 with insurance
Car Accident Tues 11-12-19: the weather was horrible here the morning of 11-12-19. It was icy with blowing snow, the roads were covered with black ice. Most of the roadways here are highways or really long on and off ramps. On Tuesday morning around 9:15am I hit a spot of black ice and my poor Buick spun hard to the left, then whipped around to spin even harder to the right and as hard as I cranked on the steering wheel, I knew the back end of my car was going to "kiss" the concrete barrier on Hwy 172, where the speed limit is 70mph and I was going 40mph. And a "kiss" of this intensity costs $2000 to repair so that's going to have to wait for a while.

Moving: Nightmare 1: The Cable Company

**names of the guilty have been changed to prevent a law suit**

On 08-08-19 my husband Mark contacted our local cable company, **Sputum, to schedule installation of cable TV and Internet service at our new place in Green Bay. He received an email confirmation on 08-08-19 at 3:23pm from **Sputum for installation on Saturday, 08-17-19 between 2pm-3pm. The email confirmation had an account number and an order number.

We had not received a confirmation call on that Saturday so at 2:19pm I called the general customer service number and spoke with **Destiny for 34 minutes and 8 seconds. She informed me that the "installation was pending and not scheduled as of 08-08-19." The next available installation date and time was Sunday, 08-25-19 between 10am - 11am. I agreed to that date and time, but then **Destiny told me she "was unable to complete the confirmation for that time" and the next available time was on Sunday, 08-25-19 between 8am-9am. I begged her to confirm that date and time before our installation date was pushed out any further which she did.

**Destiny gave me an order number for the 08-25-19 installation time and told me that she'd contacted their Dispatch Office "who must return your call within 90 minutes" because they could review their schedule and likely have an earlier date and time for our installation. She gave me a "dispatch ticket number" and said I should expect a call from them between 2:35pm-4:05pm.

We stayed in Green Bay until 4:05pm and then left for Menasha, where we currently live.

At 4:48pm I called Customer Service again because we hadn't heard from Dispatch to schedule an earlier installation date and time. I spoke with **Jeffrey who informed me Dispatch called me at 3:04pm to schedule an earlier date and time for our installation service. **Jeffrey read back the phone number Dispatch had called and there were two numbers transposed by **Destiny who entered my phone number for Dispatch to call.

Eventually I spoke with **Dan in Dispatch and scheduled our installation for Wednesday, 08-21-19 between 2pm-3pm. I had him read back to me the new address for installation and the phone number (my cell number) that was listed as the contact phone number for Wednesday's service.

After securing an actual installation date and time, Dispatch ticket number, **Sputum's order number and account number, I was steaming and ready to talk to management about error after error after error that their company caused us to keep making compromises to fit into their "fixed" dates and times.

At 5:40pm I spoke with **Shannon, part of the "Leadership Team". I relayed the errors that lead to me needing to speak with her, all of which were documented on **Sputum's part. She acknowledged that the original order confirmation on 08-08-19 shouldn't have been sent and because I provided her with the exact date and time Mark received that email, **Shannon assured me "a coaching session with that staff member" would take place to prevent something similar happening in the future.

**Shannon also confirmed that a "coaching opportunity with **Destiny's supervisor" would take place to assure phone numbers will be confirmed before being entered into "our system."

Then we came down to the brass tacks of it all: What was **Sputum going to offer me as reparations for my time and inconvenience? **Shannon waived the $49.99 connection fee in Green Bay and offered us a "Silver Package" of channels free for one year. I accepted that compromise offer and our cable bill will be reduced by $60 a month.

As a follow up, cable and Internet installation happened on Wednesday 08-21-19 without issue. At least moving nightmare 1 has been resolved.

Transitions and More Transitions

On my birthday this year, May 14, I was offered a full time position as a Clinical Case Manager at the Veterans Assistance Foundation, a non-profit organization that operates the Veterans Housing and Recovery Program at the Wisconsin Veterans Home at King, WI.
King holds a special place in my heart because my Grandpa Porath spent the last years of his life there. When we visited him, he would take us for a tour of the campus, which is extensive. He took us to the five lane bowling alley where they offered beer for sale, the viewing area for the water skiing group that offered free weekly performances for the veterans, and the museum to which he donated his "war trophies" of Swastika arm bands taken from Nazi soldiers that he had killed. He told us he had three of them, which I never doubted as he landed "D plus three", three days after D Day, June 9, 1944, when he landed in Normandy France from north Africa.
Working at King felt like honoring my Grandpa in a way that no one else in my family could. At 1800 hours the bells chime for 10 minutes. The cottages where married couples lived when Grandpa was there are no longer habitable due to asbestos and lead paint. They can't be torn down because of the asbestos exposure risk, so they are left to rot where they stand. I frequently drive past them looking for a parking spot, lace curtains and flower beds still there. It evokes such a sense of longing and sadness that prompts me to park in the field across the street rather than violate the memories of the couples who previously lived there.
My first week of full time work at VHRP (Veterans Home and Recovery Program) started on June 17, 2019. As with any new job, my first week was spent getting to know the veterans who would be on my clinical caseload, i.e., veterans with a mental health or AODA diagnoses. On Thursday, June 20, 2019 the Site Director was "walked out" from her position. This sent up red flags for the Case Manager I share an office with. On Friday, June 21st our Executive Director told the staff, (me, the Case Manager, Administrative Assistant, and Driver/Chef) to either be at the office or be available by telephone for a conference call held at Stordock Hall at 1600 hours. We were instructed to bring our personal items with us as we were directed not to return to the 2nd floor of MacArthur Hall where we worked.
That was when all of us were told that the second year of our program grant was revoked and our program was scheduled to end on September 30, 2019. There are A LOT of political reasons I can direct you to if you are interested in why the WDVA (Wisconsin Department of Veterans Affairs) stopped funding the grant we had received for 2 years (reapplication required by 09-29-20). Please contact me if you are interested in informing other veteran's organizations about our program closure. Regardless, I was offered a Clinical Case Manager position that happened to open up at the VHRP location in Green Bay. Needless to say I took that position and am in the process of dividing my time between King and Green Bay.
Thank God we didn't sign a lease for a totally kick ass townhouse in Waupaca. We have signed a lease for a side-by-side duplex in Green Bay and will spend the month of August moving from Menasha to Green Bay. We have scheduled movers for 08-16-19 and will spend that weekend arranging our new home in Green Bay.
I do, however, have a commitment to the program in King until 09-30-19, which happens to be our 14th wedding anniversary. I will be there until 2359 come hell or high water as I know my coworkers will be. We are currently working hard to ensure that every veteran in our King program will be placed in stable housing, whether that be in another program or supported independent housing.
For me, I will be traveling between our home in Menasha to King or from our home in Green Bay to the VHRP in Green Bay or from there to King.
King continues to feel like home to me. Part of Grandpa Porath's soul still lives there, despite years of being reunited with my Grandma Porath in Wausau. When a veteran arrives at King, likely to spend his last days, weeks, or years of his life surrounded by his brother veterans, the announcement of "another American hero has joined us us here at King" is made throughout every residence hall, including the second floor of MacArthur Hall. I can only hope that announcement was made when my grandfather arrived there, to spend his final years with his brother veterans.

47: Good-bye, Farewell and Amen

Some people like to list what they've done within the past year on the cusp of turning another year older. I am not interested in listing such futile adventures. As I am within 24 hours of turning 48 years old, I'd like to list what I didn't do during the past year.
1) Still haven't watched It's A Wonderful Life: Almost a decade ago I declared that I'd never seen the feel-good, gratitude gushing Christmas movie It's A Wonderful Life. Despite receiving a DVD of the film as a gift 5 years ago, I still haven't watched it. I didn't do it when I was 47 and I don't foresee myself watching when I'm 48, but we'll see.
2) Haven't seen the Great Wall of China: This is one of those bucket list adventures. I didn't have a chance to travel to China when I was 47, so we'll see what happens when I'm 48. Who knows? Maybe I'll win the lottery.
3) Didn't win the lottery: There were several multi-million and at least one billion-dollar (if I'm remembering correctly, which at my age is questionable) lottery winning totals this year. I only buy a three line, quick pick ticket if the jackpot reaches the one hundred million dollar mark because, really, I pay enough money to the state of Wisconsin and it only seems fair that if I contribute money voluntarily, it should be significantly worth my wild to do so.
4) Haven't watched one minute of Game of Thrones: I have absolutely no idea what this HBO series is about. The theme now on my Wheel of Fortune app is Wheel of Thrones or Game of Wheel, I can't remember which, and I am purely guessing at puzzles with names of the characters, locations, pet-dragon names, whatever. Today I heard on a podcast I regularly listen to that in the most recent episode there was a Starbucks cup that made it into a broadcast-ed scene. Meh. I don't drink coffee either.
5) Still don't drink coffee: This appears to set me apart from most of the people I know or am related to. I maybe had one sip of coffee while in high school and hated it. It was way too hot and incredibly bitter. Blach. It's been suggested that I try iced-coffee or flavored coffee, coffee with cream and sugar, coffee with flavored cream (particularly "pumpkin spice" cream), a frappe or caramel macchiato. Forget it. I don't like the taste of coffee in any way, shape, form, temperature or flavor.
6) Didn't get the measles: I had the standard vaccinations during childhood and had to get an MMR (measles/mumps/rubella) booster as a requirement for attending college in Massachusetts in 1991. Two weeks ago I had a physical and my doctor ran a blood test to verify that I was immune to the measles. After having at least three vaccinations, she and I were pretty confident that I had developed immunity to measles. I work in public schools three days a week and the generation of my students are part of the anti-vaccination movement embraced by their parents. My measles immunity status was "inconclusive" according to the lab that ran my measles titre. WTF?? I've had one more vaccination compared to most people my age and yet my blood couldn't confirm immunity. I'm getting the first of two MMR vaccinations on Friday. I will receive the other 28 days later.
7) Still didn't have a kid: At 47 I would've been a super high risk pregnant woman. I'm not stupid and have never had unprotected sex before marrying my husband. Yes, really. When I started babysitting at 12 years old, I was like, "Oh hell no am I ever doing this." I made damn sure I did everything I could to prevent a pregnancy. The only exception to this was when Mark and I got married. We tried for 18 months to conceive. He had surgery to open up one of his one of his vas deferens; he was capable of producing children at some point because he has a daughter and a son from his first marriage. I had dye shot into my Fallopian tubes to verify they were functioning properly, which they were. Despite temperature taking and ovulation calendars, apparently it wasn't meant to happen, which, overall, we are ok with. Pregnancy is no longer an option because of my total hysterectomy in November 2018. Hot flashes be gone! And they are...mostly.
Those are at least seven things I didn't do when I was 47. Maybe I'll cross some of them off when I'm 48. Who knows?

Is this Really the Christmas I've Been Wishing For??

So I've previously titled one on my posts, A Year of Loss, posted on 10-07-18, the day my last maternal great aunt passed away. My Grandma Krause passed on 02-16-18, her sister-in-law, my great-aunt Annabelle passed away in April 2018. Those were just family losses. My 19 year-old "girl kitty" Angel passed away on 10-29-18 and one of the neighborhood dad's from my childhood, Jerry Reinke passed away on 12-04-18. Ironically I would've been married to my first husband for 25 years on that Dec. 4th. At least Jerry's death provided an opportunity that distracted my family from the date which is a big BIG deal in my family because my mother has a memory along the lines of a steel trap:"Short fuse, long memory" I frequently use to describe her.
So my mom didn't attend either of her parents' funerals. She didn't attend her Uncle Arnie's funeral, although our Dad did, which was kind of  interesting in a truly authentic definition of the word. She did attend the funerals of both of her aunts, Annabelle and Shirley. And she even came to the luncheon afterward.
As my older second cousin would say, we're here as"second cousins, once removed." I can understand after a brief informational lesson. Although I don't write that on my Christmas cards; we know how we are related and through whom. We are NOT hoighty-toighty and pretend to be Native American Princesses or anything silly that like. I use the word "silly" in the context of female first cousins, my sister and myself as being eligible for such a thing, not for those members of my family who could really have a shot at it.
Because of all of this loss and my parents not showing up for my grandmother's funeral, but showing up for my two great-aunts funerals, Rog & Shirl are spending 12-24 through 12-26 at the casino in Wittenbergh. Cool for them, but that leaves me and Mark & our brother Chad lost in the lurch.

Jan & Ben's family will spend the holiday with his parents and siblings which is great for them! Mark has such a large family, his siblings spend the holidays with in-laws and his local cousins spend the holidays with their families. So that leaves us with nowhere to go on Christmas Day. Maybe it will be quiet and peaceful, something I've longed for for years.
I must admit that I will miss looking at my sister's face when she opens her gift this year. And I will miss watching the girls open their gifts too. Usually my parents get us a bunch of scratch-off lottery tickets and I will miss the tension palpable in the house as the tickets are scratched off, one of us certain we've got a multi-thousand winner, which never comes to pass.
Sometimes be very careful with what you wish for because you might get it and then have to live with the results.
Like what Mark, Apollo and I will be doing this Christmas day. Because of surgery I'm not up for cooking a full family meal. I'm sure Mark will go shopping for some dishes I can throw together with his help. Since I was 2 years old this is the very first time I won't be at 1415 N. Lynndale Dr. for Christmas. Time to grow up or time to concede to  my mother's expectations?