Monday Medley #3: drop off, room deposit, "Well-timed, Mini", blogger meetup, & cracking the code on password storage edition

Her bed. She added more pictures later.
She loves Spidey. He weighs a ton.

I know I have a few posts that are backing up over here. I started prepping the abroad stories part deux, but switched gears to share a few current situations.

1. Curly drop off: After we moved her in Wednesday, we had dinner with the other parents and their daughters (Curly's roomies). All three girls are from the Midwest. The girl she shares a bedroom with lives about 35 minutes from us. They hung out a few times over the summer, hit it off, and voted to be roommates. 

What's a college dorm room
without a cute tiger bath rug?

A nice looking outdoor b-ball
 court outside her dorm.
There's also an outdoor pool. 
Curly pushing the cart back
to the car, probably
 to college another 25
hoodies. What even?

There are 4 freshmen teammates in their room, 2 each to a bedroom in an apt style dorm with a full kitchen, a common room, and essentially 2 bathrooms (a shared sink, but it's a double sink). The 4th roomie did orientation earlier in the summer, because she lives nearby. She moved in Saturday, so we haven't met her yet. 

On the way back from dinner Wed night, Curly said:  I love my room, I love my roommates. 

Coach and I ditched one session or Thursday's orientation so he could see the convocation center where Curly will play basketball. It's a newer building, and so impressive. 

We said good-bye at 3:00 Thursday - leaving her to attend to the 'tie up loose ends' portion of orientation on her own. We high tailed it up to grab Kay and Rae from Uncle's house and get on the road. 

The cute downtown area.
SC - why so hot?

The good-bye: not a tear was shed. Not Curly. Not me. She's ready. She's happy. It's gonna be great. (Did I have a mild panicky feeling as we drove home . . . remembering just how far away she is? Well, yes- but I'll fly down to watch her play. The drive is brutal). 

2. If the weather gives you time to clean your room, do THAT:  Reg texted us while we were in SC. Another tornado. More severe storms. The golf course was closed for 2 days. He'd hoped to rake in more caddy money in the home stretch.

The woman, aka ME, whose daycare starts up tomorrow:  Clean your room!

I hopped on FB to alert the area that my college kid was available for hire to weed, do lawns, lift heavy items, run errands. He scored a weeding job from someone and one of Tank (and now Kay's) regular customers hired him to paint. So he earned some dough, but since I've spent most of Sunday, my last day of summer, cleaning his room, and clearing the clutter - mostly clothes . . . he will be losing his room deposit. *I've said before that I'd fine them, and I wish I'd outlined that - put it in writing, because C'MON NOW. I'm next level angry, but will let him settle into school for a few days before I share my frustration with him. 

Reg earned over 17k this summer. Crazy, right? He tracked how many loops he had. 80. After adding up the miles he walked while carrying bags, he calculated that he could've walked to Omaha from our home and half way home. 

Because the derby horses winter in Aiken,
there's horse statues everywhere.
Outside the convocation center. 

In other words:  he can afford to pay for my cleaning services. 

3.  Blogger meet up:  As I draft this Sunday afternoon, I'm excited that in a few hours I'll be meeting not 1, but 2 bloggers. Stay tuned for details. 

4.  Timing:  Mini stayed downtown Friday night after work with college friends. She plans to move downtown with a roomie/friend from ND eventually. Both girls are living at home in their respective burbs, commuting to the city for work. 

I was filling her in on the details of Curly's move in on Saturday, when she said:  

SO I THINK I'LL PROBABLY MOVE OUT IN NOVEMBER. 

November? So soon? Now hang on. Curly and Reg both just left and this is when you drop the upcoming date of sadness on me? It's fine. I'm grateful she didn't land in NYC. 

Note to self:  draw up the room deposit requirement now. The messy-trail-leaving issue is strong with this one (said in a Yoda voice). 

What is even happening here?
He keeps it next to his
recliner chair in the
 family room. Wedged in there.

5.  Can you find that password for me? I don't know, can I? While Coach drove Reg back to Omaha Sat. at 11:30 am (less than 24 hours after the SC road trip), he called me and asked me to look up the password, so he could pay Reg's tuition. I'm sharing a photo here of my husband's intricate password protection system. Don't try this at home. It's so challenging to read his chicken scratch on this falling-apart file, that I'm not the least bit worried that one of you will hack into our kids' colleges and . . . try to pay their tuition? 

*****

After clearing the boys' room of 'stuff', I've come up with a new idea for another post. I'm adding 'look what I found'  - a photo journal of things unearthed in their room to my queue of posts. Get excited. Do you know someone who writes stuff on a folder - like in all different direction, with arrows, and scratch outs, etc.?  Anyone live close enough to Aiken, SC that they might wanna go see a game? I'm laughing at myself - thinking it would be faster to write up this post vs. take 10 min to edit a draft. I'm def procrastinating/not accepting that Monday morning, when you read this - I'll be back in the swing of my daycare. 

Quality Inn Anniversary and more adventures

Coach and the three youngest girls and I stopped midway to Rock Hill (where his brother's family lives) on Monday night. We were in Chillicothe, OH. I was driving, so he was in charge of finding a hotel for the night. 

Weird thing:  GPS offered us two routes when we left home. 'Suggested route' and 'fastest route'. We chose the main road route (which I think was fastest) through Indianapolis and following 75 south. The other route looked like it was thru the middle of nowhere. No Thanks. At some point, we ended up on the off-the-beaten-path route. We still aren't sure how that happened. 

*****

Before GPS, I grew up with a dad who carried a green, leather bound road atlas under one arm when he walked to the car for a fam road trip. He always poured over the map for days leading up to our travels, noting the desired route on a yellow lined notepad. 

Is it me, or does that sound barbaric now? I don't think I could've ever left my home if not for GPS. Am I alone? 

*****

Our minivan with a luggage
carrier bag thing on
top - this helped get Curly's stuff to college,
 but it whistled most of the way here and
 we are thrilled we won't need it on
 the way home. And my dessert treat.

Anyway, we were shocked that most of the name-brand hotels like Fairfield and Marriott this or that were booked in Chillicothe, Ohio. On a Monday night. Huh? We ended up at a Quality Inn. I was underwhelmed. 

Coach:  Well, it has 2 double beds and a couch.

Me (while I drove):  Does the couch pullout?

Coach:  I dunno. 

I don't think I've ever seen so many 'no smoking' signs, and yet the whole place wreaked of cigarette smoke. Our room had the two double beds, and two couches - both pulled out into full size beds. Curly, Rae, and Kay all got their own full size bed and Coach and I got to share a full size bed. 

Me (in the fam group chat):  Nothing screams 'we've been married for 30 years' like me being jealous of the 3 girls with their own bed as 6'4" Coach and 5'9" me crammed into the remaining double bed on this, our 30th anniversary. 

After getting settled at 10:30 pm, we said good-night to the girls. Then Coach and I went to the hotel bar for one drink. This local watering hole was named Patrick's Pub, so how could we not? On the way, we passed the car. Coach unlocked it and pulled out a surprise GF Bundt Cake for me. True love. 

*****

As I type this, I realize I have a few posts to share:  the story behind the fam heirloom. More about my year abroad in Ireland. Judging by the comments, that topic doesn't stir up much interest, but I'll subject you to it anyway. Get excited. 

Would you be able to travel without GPS? Would you keep driving if the hotel options were icky?

Happy 30th Anniversary to us & the Last word for the win

Recap:  Last week, I was upset that my dad switched gears, deciding that my published story was mean. 

Dad:  You hurt those kids.  

'Kids?' My sisters are over 58. Ann is barely mentioned in the story. Dad told me a few months prior that it was a funny story. What changed? (I suspect Marie told him what she didn't like about it). Then when I told him that referring to Niece as 'a Nut' was mean, he agreed. 

Me:  Her family (sibs and parents, esp her mom - my sister Marie) have never been nice to her. 

Dad:  She didn't deserve it. 

What about his strong Catholic faith? I wasn't having it. Particularly because I identify with Niece. Unlike her, I wasn't an extreme nonconformist growing up, but I was the odd man out, the one who didn't quite fit, the kid the other sibs locked out of the house for hours when our parents left for the day. It brought back all the feelings from the home where favoritism was The System. I didn't matter. 

Regrouping:  I met with our fam therapist, created a list of talking points. My overall message:  I love you. This has been hurtful. My sisters hung up on me, when I called to ask what they thought about the story. I wasn't given the chance to say SORRY. THIS WASN'T INTENDED TO BE HURTFUL. IT WAS OVER 40 YEARS AGO, AND I BELIEVED IT WOULD TICKLE THE FUNNY BONE - NOT MEANT TO INSULT. And my sisters can be hurt or mad at me, and two - that doesn't need to impact our ability to communicate about our aging parents' health.

Go time (I felt sick to my stomach):  Coach and I went to my folks' house Friday evening. 

For each point I made, my dad disagreed, claimed he'd always treated his kids the same. I pointed out how he had stopped donating to ND because Pat's daughter, "O" didn't get in (TBH we all believed she'd get in ahead of Mini. Her dad went there. She's brilliant. I don't think she was involved in as much as Mini, but who knows why she didn't get in). At the same time, Mini DID get in, and what if he celebrated THAT and chose to continue to donate to his alma mater? What if he shared his football tickets/parking passes with Coach and I, since he'd have a better lottery number as an alum? 

It was just my kid though, so it didn't matter. 

To this, Dad said the reason Pat's daughter didn't get in, BRACE YOURSELVES, . . . and I knew what he was gonna say, because I'd heard it before and I begged him not to voice the ridiculous, absurd thought, but he insisted:

"O" DIDN'T GET IN, BECAUSE PAT MAKES TOO MUCH MONEY. 

Friends, my brother makes great money, but Mini knew people at ND who had literal mountains of money, houses everywhere, yachts, all.of.it. Pat's income is not in the same ballpark. *sigh* And that's besides the point. Mini did get in - why not be excited about that and continue to donate for the underdog grandkid who beat the odds and got in?

I had pages of points to make. I got thru most of it. 

I asked him where in the bible it states that when someone is not like everyone else, like Niece, that they don't deserve to be treated with respect and kindness. (He didn't argue this point).

The exit:  Finally I said the piece about how my sisters could be mad, but they should still communicate. Said I loved them, and that this was a system they'd put in place and that they couldn't fix it, but moving forward they could try not to play favorites (I've cut the Great Furniture Giveaway example - I'll share it soon). I informed him that I'm praying for my sisters, because I think they're struggling.

Coach said in the car after we left:  I WANTED TO SAY THAT ERNIE JUST LISTED HOW SHE'S BEEN HURT, BUT SHE STILL SHOWS KINDNESS, IS SUPPORTIVE, WISHES PEOPLE HAPPY BIRTHDAY, COMMUNICATES. UNLIKE HER SISTERS, SHE'S NOT INTIMIDATING NIECES AND NEPHEWS OR REFUSING TO TEXT IN A GROUP CHAT. 

Me:  Turn the car around. Please, go in there and say that!

And we did. And my dad, who had behaved as if everything I said was inaccurate or inconsequential, got very quiet when Coach spoke. Dad raised his eyebrows, pursed his lips, and he seemed to listen. 

I FEEL SO MUCH BETTER. Even though he refused to embrace what I was saying. I got it off my chest. Cleared the air. And, on this our 30th anniversary, I get to share with you that Coach seemed to get through to him. 

On my next visit to my folks', my dad gave me this:  

A family heirloom. More later . . .

Thursday: this & that (ie: ef-ups)

I'm pausing my continued Ireland abroad post to share timely bits:

THIS: 

WHAT BOOK SHOULD I LISTEN TO DURING . . . 

• Monday, 8/10th (our 30th anniversary) Coach, Rae, Kay, Curly, and I drive party of the way to take Curly to college. 
• Tuesday:  We'll arrive at Coach's brother's house in Rock Hill. 
• Wednesday:  we'll leave Kay and Rae to hang out with cousins (Coach's brother has 9 kids, lots of girls. They love it there) when we drive under 2 hrs to Aiken. We move her in that afternoon. 
• Thursday:  Coach, Curly, and I attend orientation. When it's over, we (*sob*) leave our baby in Aiken. Coach and I drive back to Rock Hill to get the girls. 
• Friday:  (or maybe we start Thursday night, which is my preference, but will depend on time) we drive home, 12 hours. 
• Saturday: either Coach or myself will drive Reg 6.5 hours to Omaha. 
• Sunday:  whichever of us drew the short straw, will drive 6.5 hours home. 
• Monday:  Day 1 of year #12 of my daycare. 

What audio book do you recommend? Maybe 2 audio books? I will have my laptop, so I can get some writing done while Coach drives. There will also be naps, as I get very sleepy in long car rides. 

THAT (ef-ups):  

CURLY'S WEDDING DEBACLE (to be clear, she's not getting married) . . .  

Curly found a dress for Cousin's KC wedding end of Sept. I researched flights for the kid who doesn't like to fly, aiming for as seamless as possible. My deep dive included taking notes on various airlines, various airports, direct vs connections, etc. I was learning how to best fly there to watch her play during her season, and how to get her home at Christmas (she only gets one week off at Christmas, such is the life of a b-ball player).

Last week, Curly shared the wedding date and her travel plans with her head coach. Uh, the coach informed her that she cannot go. Um, huh? I was under the impression that Curly had cleared the dates. When we were there on our visit, she'd mentioned it to the assistant coach. He said preseason was pretty flexible, should be fine. She'd not asked the coach, because she feared she was bothering her/had asked her so many things, plus she thought the asst. coach's 'we're flexible' counted as permission. Apparently, she cannot miss preseason practice, and they planned a community service event for that weekend.

The flights can be cancelled for vouchers. Curly cried a little. Those tears stem from not wanting to get on the coach's bad side and feeling guilty that I'd spent hours researching a smoothest travel itinerary vs. actually missing the wedding. 

I'm bummed, because in my mind dropping her off in August would be easier, knowing we'd see her in late Sept. You know? *sigh* The dress we bought for the wedding was from a thrift store and she'll wear it at some point. Black/timeless, etc. 

MINI'S FIRST DAY, A NEAR MISS. . . 

Before she got a job, Mini booked flights to visit a few college friends in Philadelphia first weekend in August. She switched her return trip to Sunday night vs Monday to accommodate her start date. 

The weather sucked. Her flights: booked on Frontier. (NEVER AGAIN) She believes that they were waiting to take off, but were in the 'wrong spot'. By the time they moved the plane, the weather was bad. 

Bottom line:  she landed almost 5 hours late. I stayed up, chatting with her while she sat on the runway, crying - worried she'd miss her first day. I insisted there was nothing she could do. Once they finally took off, I went to bed. Reg had agreed to pick her up. I think they got home around 1 am. Then she needed to shower. She didn't sleep well, not surprised. 

We were zombified-Shenanigans that Monday. She had to uber to the city, because there was an issue with the trains that morning. Then I got this text from her:   

*****

All the kids came home Wednesday evening for a family meal and (weather permitting) family volleyball game in the yard - Curly's family sendoff. It took an act of God to get a date that worked for all of us. 

Any first day of work nightmare stories? If memory serves, I believe I got a speeding ticket on my way to a new job a few years after college. Given my lead foot, that tracks. Have you had to miss a family wedding? AUDIO BOOKS SUGGESTIONS?

Blast to the past: my year abroad (part 1)

I thought this would be a two paragraph explanation for 'why didn't you go to class while abroad' along with a description of what I did with my time when I studied abroad in Ireland my junior year, '91-'92. Well, two paragraphs weren't enough. 

CLASSES:  Our American academic system is structured differently from theirs. We were labelled occasional students. The Irish students sat exams at the end of each year of college to see if they'd pass to the next year. When we asked what year are you, it was common to hear:  First year, 2nd time repeating. Or Second year, 3rd time repeating. There were also clerics, because part of the school was a seminary. 

***As an aside:  In my journal:  'I bumped into Derek the cleric . . .' I dated an Irish guy named Derek, so attaching 'the cleric' to the other Derek's name cleared up any confusion. Neither, believe it or not, was a saint. ***

Bringing the coal
 in from the bin.

Many of my classes were big lectures. I might be asked to write an additional paper, but we weren't sitting the cumulative exams in May- so academics felt a bit more relaxed. I had small tutorials that I rarely, or never missed. I def did go to the big lectures often, but I didn't sweat missing a class if I wanted to hitch hike across the country and missing a class made that easier. While at school in South Bend, I never missed a class unless I was ill. 

Classes were small, so I suspect my letters about skipping classes was partly because it was the beginning of the school year and I was like, I'M DIGGING THIS LOW PRESSURE SYSTEM. 

We also had an Irish Culture class that was just for the 21 Notre Dame/Saint Mary's students on our program. That was Tuesday evenings, and we all attended that - somewhat mandatory. Our program director taught it, and it was sort of her way of checking up on us, giving us updates on class trips, etc. We had no email. No phones. No television (not that we would communicate through the television, but as an example of what life was like). We had to start a fire in the fireplace to warm our house. I shared my house with 3 other SMC girls. 

THE BEST OF TIMES:  I rank my year abroad as one of the greatest

I'm not in this one - I took the pic.

experiences of my life. Most of what I learned took place outside the classroom. In my spare time (might've been doing some of the following if I missed a big lecture), I wrote a million letters to friends, family, and the moms I babysat for. I wrote in my journal daily. I prepared my own food, which was nothing amazing. We're talking cup of soup or mince meat (the Irish refer to ground beef) and pasta. 

Based on journal entries, I also slept a lot . . . after being out very late, or staying up half the night chatting with friends or boyfriends in my house or theirs. The pub closed early, at like 10. Imagine my shock the first time the barkeep started flipping the stools onto the table tops, calling:  RIGHT THERE NOW LADIES AND GENTS, LAST CALL FOR ALCOHOL. Supposedly the early closing time is because no one would go to work if the pub was open later. 

Photo of me hitching. From my photo album -
I put newspaper headlines in my
 photo album. I love looking back at it.

We attended bar extensions on campus at the student union. Legal permission was needed to keep the bar open. Those were about once a month on a Wednesday. Many students went home on the weekend to help on the farm, or save money, or eat meals at home, etc. Wednesday bar extensions were the highlight of our social lives, where the blaring disco music vibrated in my bones. 

I traveled - hitched everywhere (no longer safe). I hung out with my roomies, who were from the States, and I became very tight with a group of girls from Ireland. I stayed up late hanging out with them. One was a bridesmaid in our wedding. We're still in touch. I saw her for the first time in 20 years when Tank studied in Limerick.

Every night, almost without fail, we walked to the pub, The Roost. It was about a 30  minute walk from our house. Everyone went to the pub at night, not just students. It was the socially the thing to do. Who needs tv when you can sit at the pub surrounded by friends and 'share the news.' 

I didn't want to come home. 

As with all great experiences, there's more to share. Till next time. 

*****

Did you ever study abroad, or live in a different culture? How did you keep friends with the same name straight? Did you or would you ditch large letcures?

Calling a spade a spade & how it feels not to matter

I apologize for the length. I'm really struggling. 

As far as the strain, or dissolution, of the relationship with my sisters - nothing has changed. Forever:  they've mistreated me, judged me, pouted when they can't control me. 

I've exposed the reality that I've lived with for so long. They may have 'spoken' words to me when I hosted my entire side for Christmas, but they haven't spoken to me from a place of 'I care about you' for a long, long time. Now that I've said, 'I think your behavior is unacceptable', they've spiraled. 

Unrelated, or is it? I saw this
 on a car and it made me laugh. 

So be it. Long time coming, etc.

My theories:  

1. LACK OF FAMILY SYSTEM:  I think my sisters never created their own family system. They rely on my parents' guidance and 'word' before they make a move. 

    Exhibit A:  Marie took her kid to 15 colleges back when she was a senior in HS under the premise of, You can choose one. In the 11th hour, Marie told said kid You can only go to this school or that school. Her kid was furious. (this was not a case of THIS SCHOOL HAS OFFERED YOU MORE MONEY, etc.). That all happened, because Nana (my mom) told Marie that she thought said kid should go to x school. 

    Exhibit B:  Years ago when my nephews were like 6th & 4th grade (they're now 31 and 29), Ann took them for haircuts. The hairdresser spiked the front of their hair. Ann brought them to show my folks their new style. Nana didn't like it spiked. The next day was picture day at school. The boys had been excited to spike their hair for pictures. Ann changed her mind - wouldn't let them, because Nana didn't like it. Her boys flipped out. 

    Meanwhile:  YEARS AGO . . . Dad decided to come and sit at my dinner table. Coach worked late. Dad thought my kids were unruly because they needed a male at the table. Initially I welcomed the 'help', but to be clear - my kids are full of personality and loud and dinners were nuts, but rarely totally out of control. 

Dad insisted the kids speak in quiet tones, one at a time. Ordered them to stay in chairs, etc. It was mostly in fun, like he wasn't screaming at them. I was embracing it, thinking I'd scored extra time with my dad. A rarity. 

During one of these dinners, Dad turned to Ed and said, "Why are you so skinny?" Then he turned to Lad, "And why are you so fat?" Lad was probably in 6th grade. I about died.

The next day, I called and told my dad I was changing the code to the garage door and that he was not welcome at our dinner table, because of the mean comment he made to Lad. 100% Dad didn't 'think' his comment was mean. He thought he was being playful/funny. 

My parents also called me once - maybe a year later. They hopped on two extensions. Their message was that Lad was getting too big, and they suggested I make him start walking or running around the block x number of times. Lad was involved in a ton of sports. He was about to have a growth spurt. I was like I'm not doing that. 

The point - if I was like my sisters, I would've accepted their 'you're kid is fat' comment as truth. Fortunately, I did create my own family system. People are held accountable. Each kid is celebrated for their uniqueness. 

    Now that my folks are failing, my sisters are struggling - feeling unmoored. 

2. INABLITIY TO RESOLVE CONFLICT:  When I called them up in '22 and said SO, WHAT'D YA THINK ABOUT MY PUBLISHED STORY? both my sisters hung up on me. They refused to converse or express feelings, never giving me a chance to say MY INTENTION WAS NOT TO HURT YOU WHEN I TOLD THIS FUNNY STORY. 

   

My sisters have always turned to Nana to complain. Nana has always validated their grievances and rallied to console them, sided with them, attempted to fix things, or something. Now that Nana has Alzheimer's, they've lost their go-to when conflict arises. 

So, when I called B.S. on their crap Dec. 26th, they couldn't cope. They only know how to talk smack behind my back, to one another, to Mom (no longer an audience). Voicing issues or addressing situations cripples them. 

I think my sisters don't like how our folks have embraced the adoption. My folks' parenting style is favoritism based. TBH I feared Dad would say "What? You can't adopt kids - how will you afford that?" Gaining his praise was not a motivator in the adoption equation, but he's showered us with praise. 

My dad has said "You're sisters are just jealous." Really? Of what? I could strip naked and run around the block and get more attention with less stress than my current situation. In reality, they prob fear that I might infringe on their rank. As if. I'm not moving off of the bottom rung and that's fine with me.  

UNHEART:  Pat texted in the family group chat last week that he's putting down a deposit on a memory care facility. My sisters will not be involved in a group chats that I'm included in. Ann 'loved the message'. Moments later she must've recognized that it was not the new group chat without me, so she 'unloved the message.' I died laughing. 

Earlier in the summer, Dad asked me for a copy of my published story. He read it and said he found it funny, and wasn't sure what Marie found mean. He admitted that he never read it when I sent him the link in 2022. Yesterday, I stopped by to visit my folks. He had the copy of the story with red marks on it. 

He asked me "What does the title 'Driving Bird Girl' have to do with running over the mailbox?" I told him it was creative writing. He told me that describing Marie flapping her arms when she was upset was mean. That mentioning her little kid hairstyle was mean. 

I told him not reading a story I had published back in '22 was mean. 

THE STORY OF MARIE RUNNING OVER THE MAILBOX WAS OVER 40 YEARS AGO - WHO CANNOT LAUGH AT HOW THEY WORE THEIR HAIR BACK THEN? Bottom line, he must've asked Marie to tell him what parts she found mean. Now he finds these parts mean. 

My dad is 86. He's in poor health. I could not believe that he would say this to me. That he would condone my sisters' behavior. Why, if this was an issue, could Marie not have this conversation with me when I asked? Since Dec. 26th, when I asked WHY IS THE ADOPTION POLARIZING FOR YOU? she cannot greet me or wish her goddaughter happy birthday, and has (laughably) unfollowed all of the Shenanigans on socials. But that's not mean?  

The problem:  I don't matter. Never have. Marie's perspective is gonna outrank mine.  Every time. Dad changed his opinion because she told him to. I had quite a few things to say to him. I was very upset. I will go back when I'm more calm, and I'll bring Coach with me. 

I just can't anymore. There's so much wrong here. I just can't. 

Sorry - maybe I should've split this in two posts. If you read the whole thing or skimmed it, thank you. 

Is it too late to submit this document from 1991?

I unearthed my journal from my year '91-'92 abroad a few months ago. Friends, it's un-put-down-able. So entertaining. I remember so much from that year, but I was surprised at how much I'd forgotten. 

The bin where my journal was stored was kept in the crawl space. The bin is in pretty bad shape, but I'm so grateful that the contents are mostly fine. It seems like there was a bit of damage - like something dripped in there at some point. 

In addition to a box with all of my childhood pairs of glasses and notebooks where I recorded my favorite baby names as a junior high kid, there were several gallon size bags of letters. I suspect that I have almost every letter that I received when I was in Ireland - and the other college years and some high school years. I didn't realize that I'd kept all of them. 

My dad wrote a letter to all of the kids away at college (all 5 of us attended college in South Bend). Whoever received the letter had to hand it off to the other kids. The year I studied in Ireland, my brother Pat was on the same program. Dad wrote letters to both of us. And I have so many of them (maybe all of them, but who knows). 

I've only read through a handful of them, but they are hilarious. In one of our first letters, Dad included a meal budget form. Presumably one for each of us. Uh, Pat's is not in the envelope - so maybe he filled it out and returned it, which was the expectation. Dad was an accountant.  

My meal budget plan is still in the envelope and not filled out. The columns include:  Cost of meal:  breakfast, lunch, dinner - with a list of 31 days.

The other funny letter was a few weeks after we arrived in Ireland. Dad says:

We understand Ernie doesn't go to class. We were at the Smiths' (neighbors) last Saturday and he said he got a letter in which Ernie says she doesn't go to class. So I asked Marie to send me copies of the letters she gets from Ernie, and she laughed and said no, because Ernie talks about not going to class. Ernie, what do you do with all your time? Go to the Roost (local pub)? Are the classes mostly lectures?  

*****

Do you keep letters? Did you keep a journal in your youth? Would you ever have kept a budget for meals in college and submitted it your parents?

Mini and Curly and I are in Wisconsin at our annual overnight.