Sunday, January 31, 2016


Someone explained to my husband that they had gotten a reverse mortgage on their home. We've heard about them, of course, but talking to his friend, Tim got a little alarmed. 

This 'mortgage company' pays  60% of the value of the home. That's all. They own it, but the previous owner can continue to live in his or her own home. Except that the mortgage company can inspect the house and tell their 'tenant' that this has got to be fixed, or that the house needs painted, or that they want new carpet, etc. etc. If the 'tenant' does not comply, eviction proceedings are started. 

Tim was horrified. 

Why does anyone think this is a good idea? We discussed it as I got ready for work. I mused, "We've spent our whole life together trying to establish financial freedom. He has sold himself back into financial bondage."

I cannot help but wonder why this sort of thing is even legal. It seems like it is preying on the elderly. 

Wednesday, January 27, 2016


It seems like I fit into this world in a tentative sort of way. 

Like, maybe, I have lost my voice. 

I wasn't always like this. My kids were telling of their adventures at Christmas, and I listened to them laughing, amazed at their audacity. Dylan reminded me that I had my own streak of audacity, once upon a time. I knew right away that it was true. 

When happened? Why did it happen? I've been thinking a lot about this since then. 

A couple of weeks later, Andrew asked to speak with me after the service. He stood in front of me, and he said, "We were all talking the other day, and your name came up, and we think that we would like you to join us. You would be a good fit." And he stood there with his gentle Andrew face, waiting for my answer. 

Immediately, the reasons why I shouldn't, why I couldn't, why he was wrong, why I didn't fit at all, came pushing to the front of my mind. 

I struggled for a moment, but I remembered a time when I used to be audacious, and there arose in me such a hunger...

...that this time, I said yes. 

And all those thoughts and excuses that had pushed to the front of my mind stood transfixed at the sound of my voice. 

Tuesday, January 26, 2016


Did I tell you that we sold a house?


We did.

And did I tell you that we bought another?


We did.

We are in the middle of another rehab, and this one is mine. It is a very nice ranch style home. The appliances are delivered, and so are the kitchen cabinets. We have gutted two bathrooms with one more waiting for us.

I think about the people who will live there some day as I am working on it, and it makes me happy.

Monday, January 25, 2016

Mothers and their Daughters

I was reading a friend's post. She lost her mother last year, and although they were not close, she grieved.

I understood.

My own mother is gone, and any chance that we had to see things a new way went to her grave with her.

You make your peace with that, and you do it the best you can.

On the second floor, tucked way in a little corner at the entrance of the third floor, I have a little nook. There are shelves with books. There is a desk. On that desk sits my mother's Smith-Corona typewriter, something that she got when she was in high school 60 years ago. Scattered about the space are things that remind me of her, or things that are hers, and they are mingled in with things that I love.

It is a quiet room, and when I go up to water the plants, it is nice to take a moment to sit on the wicker settee. There is no sound but the soft ticking of an old clock.

It seems appropriate.