The Ball Isn't Rolling After All

I jumped the gun Social Security-wise and we went in a month early for me to sign up, but the nice man answered all our questions and made an appointment for me to come in on June 4 to really, officially get the ball rolling.  We did learn that I will not only receive the SS I have earned but also a portion of Durwood's, not that he'll get less than he is now, I'll get some nebulous percentage of his theoretical full benefit.  (there's a chart)  I don't understand how that works but I'm happy to get an extra portion since I wasn't convinced it'd be there when I got this old anyway.  And Durwood's big question got answered too: if I start receiving a less-than-full benefit "early" at 62 will I still receive that percentage of the whole when he kicks the bucket?  The answer is an emphatic NO, when that day comes it's a whole new equation, so he's happy for me to start getting those little direct deposits from Uncle Sam.  Me too.  Like I said, I want to put half onto paying off the mortgage (we can barely see the light at the end of the tunnel but it is in sight) and save the other half for vacations.  Good plan, don't you think?

I thought this morning's clouds looked like a puffy quilt this morning and, LOOK!, buds on the trees.

The funeral was sad... and long.  It was a Mass which meant an hour of Catholic Aerobics.  You know what I mean--stand, sit, kneel, stand, kneel, sit... up, down, back and forth for an hour with only intermittent music.  (I can say that because I'm Catholic and have spent a lifetime doing that version of aerobics)  Most of the attendees were VFW pals of the 89-year-old deceased and, holy moly, were they old but so dignified and so respectful.  He was accorded full military honors, a pair of young airmen in full uniforms and white gloves solemnly marched to the casket, slowly folded the flag, then one went back out to fire the salute (it had to be a recording but was still moving) and play Taps, while the second one presented the flag to the widow at the last note.  I held it together pretty well through the solemn finality of it all until the first few notes of the song, then I just cried.  That song, so poignant and sweet, gets me every time.

 Then I went to get my nails done and buy some yarn.  (not in the same place, silly goose)  (Karen, Patti asked how you were when I stopped in for some wool wash and sweater buttons.  You too, Mary.  You should stop in if she's ever open, and we should get together someplace one of these Tuesday nights if you still do that.)  KZ asked me to knit her "bean" a baby sweater and I knew that Monterey had some bright yarn that I thought would be just right.  Of course they're going out of business so I felt like I couldn't delay picking up a couple skeins... and there were a few other skeins that had to come home with me.   (What yarn diet?  They were 30% off, I HAD to buy them.)  While I was out driving around town Durwood called to say that we'd forgotten to get any meat out to thaw for supper so I stopped at the grocery for some ground beef and ground pork, he fried up some onions and peppers to mix in the meat, and he made burgers that I grilled.  It was one of the best ideas we've had in a long time.  Yum, open faced on rye toast with cheddar, fresh tomatoes, lettuce, relish and catsup.  Oh yeah, with green beans (gotta have veggies) on the side.  Yum yum yum.

May 8--Egypt, Decorated Ware Jar Depicting Ungulates and Boats with Human Figures.  "Ungulates are cows, right?"  Mia was frowning and squinting over her book.  "Why can't they just say cows instead of being all 'ungulates' so they sound smart?"  She made air quotes every time she said ungulates.  Marshall snorted into his notebook.  "They say it because they're not sure it's cows but they're pretty sure it's some cow-like creature, maybe an ox."  "Don't snort," she told him, "you spray snot when you do and it's gross."  She bent over the illustrations again.  "And these are supposed to be boats? They look like fake eyelashes with a flea circus on them.  I think archaeologist are full of it.  They make stuff up just to keep their jobs."  Marshall put down his pen.  "I thought you said you wanted to be an archaeologist someday."  "I do," she said.  "I'm practicing my imagination.  It's like being a fiction writer, just making stuff up.  I figure if you say things with enough confidence you can convince anybody."  He shook his head at her.  "You might be right but just in case you're not, learn the stuff anyway."  She grumbled but she did.

Isn't ungulates a funny word?  I had to write about it and write it a bunch of times.  It amuses me.  I'd better shake a leg.  I have to do that whole working all day thing.  I balled up extra yarn last night just in case the store's an echoing wasteland yet again.  See ya bye.
--Barbara