The Transition Times

Finally heard from the DMV this week about my driver’s license.  They approved of my hoop jumping.

Seen three doctors in the last two weeks.  No problem — just catching up on stuff I’ve put off.  None of them have heard from Social Security about my disability application.  My primary care doc said my blood work “looks remarkably good.”  The rest were equally positive.  Got one more doc to see this week.

I finally remembered to call about Lew’s pension checks.  Had to pay back two months worth.  Lew was really bad about financial planning.  He had set up his pension so that it would stop after his death.  When I left the voice mail message for the woman in Human Resources to call me back, I didn’t recognize her name.  Still don’t.  When we were talking, she asked for Lew’s social security number.  Pause. She said, “I know him!  I used to work with him!”  I don’t know why, but I started apologizing for breaking it to her so abruptly.

Lew’s clothes have gone to the Crisis Assistance “store.”  I decided to keep his Habitat shirts for the time being.  His bike clothes are still in the closet.  They’ll be going to a friend Lew was very fond of (Sorry, “Sweetie,” it ain’t you!)

Been going through the rest of the stuff in the closet.  Found his “state of the art” notebook computer that he bought for when he traveled.  Man, have computers changed!  It has a small screen, weighs a ton, and doesn’t have a USB port. Its got something wrong with the hard drive.  I’ve got to decide if its worth spending the time trying to fix it or if I should go ahead and destroy it.  Nope, I can’t sell it or give it away.  There’s “secret” stuff on there!  (Customer info, software, etc.)

A couple months before Lew died, while he was still active, I asked him if there was anything he wanted to get rid of before he died.  I reminded him a couple of weeks later.  I asked about the journal he kept while we were having marriage problems.  He said it wasn’t important.  I found it next to his laptop.  Its back on the shelf where it was while I decide if I want to read it.  Would it be painful?  Or, would it be a learning experience?  Would it make me miss him more?

I’m beginning to question my judgment.  I heard that! A neighbor we’ve just waved at asked if I’d take care of their dog while they are out of town (she usually stays with Sammy).  Well, Benny invited Errie to sleep over Thursday night.  We enjoyed her company.  She’s very curious and very bright (She’s just about got the dog door thing down.).  And she kept trying to get into my van so I could take her home.  She’s going to have a rough time without her mommy.

Errie is about nine years old (if I remember correctly) so I won’t have to worry about keeping up with puppy antics.  She’s a well mannered Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, so she’s small enough that I could pick her up if I had to.  But, one thing I hadn’t thought about — she doesn’t know to stay out from under my wheels.  And she doesn’t know “Excuse me” or “Move” or not to sleep in the bathroom doorway.

So, anyway, new dog adventures in a couple of weeks.

I was so embarrassed at the library today.  Not only had I not read the books, I had forgotten I had them.  At least the fine didn’t break the bank.

So I’m sitting at the counter paying my fine . . . Two young girls get in the line to my left.  After a moment, I realize that I hadn’t checked on Benny.  Looking down to see how he’s behaving . . .  He was sitting tall in the perfect spot, chest puffed out, telling the world, “I know how to behave in the library!”

I was so proud!

Short takes –

Sold the PT Cruiser on Saturday.  Was very thankful that I then had to rush out of the house to meet a former neighbor for lunch.  Took my mind off of selling off a piece of Lew.

Sunday, we went to the dog trainer’s get together.  Benny did very well, considering that Shelley’s mom was sitting behind me.  Its been quite a while since he’d last seen her so I was surprised that he remembered her.  (If you’ve forgotten Shelley’s story, its here.)  And he remembered the group’s “Alpha Dog.”  Fortunately, she wasn’t a pet-er-file.

Part of the program Sunday was a report from one of our members who had been to the six week training course for Service Dog trainers in California.  I sooo much want to go!  But she confirmed my suspicions — I’d never survive the grueling schedule.

I spent a lot of time last night fighting with myself.  Was I really ready to sell Lew’s PT Cruiser?  And did I really want to sell it to someone I know?  I had decided that I was going to tell them that I had changed my mind.

But this morning, I asked myself, “If not now, when?”  They made me an offer this morning and I headed to the bank to get the title out of the safe deposit box.  In the vault, I glanced at the paperwork.  Then took a second, more careful look.  Scream! Lew had put the car in his name only!  I flipped the title over to see if I had to get my signature notarized (since I was at the bank . . .).  Yep.  I went through everything in the box looking to see if I had left a Power of Attorney in there.  Nope.

Back out in the lobby at the information desk . . . “Do I need to bring the Power of Attorney or is his Death Certificate better?”  Well . . . the Power of Attorney is no longer valid, it died when Lew died.  And as far as the car is concerned, it ain’t mine.  It belongs to Lew’s estate.  I had to get Lew’s Will probated and the car turned over to me as part of the “Widow’s Allowance.”  “Widow’s Allowance”???  Yep, there really is such a thing.  Its $10,000 annually for the widow and $2,000 for each of the minor children.  Oops!  I’m getting ahead of myself.

So, I left the bank.  Drove home.  Called the Clerk of Court’s office.  Got transferred twice, then put on hold for a while.  Made up a list of paperwork I had to take with me.  Fortunately, I already had it gathered together.  And, fortunately, I had enough cash to pay their fees “in cash.  We don’t take credit cards or checks,” so I didn’t have to go back to the bank.

Popped the address into my GPS.  I was very thankful for that thing.  I haven’t been downtown, er, uptown in many many years.  And off I went.  When I spotted the building I thought was the right one, I circled back around to the parking lot I had just passed.  “Maintenance vehicles only.”  Dang, I was on the wrong side of the street to get to the other parking deck.  I had to make a bigger circle to get back in the other direction.  “Law Enforcement only.”  Well, dang.  I hung a right and decided to beg for pity in the “Juror’s” parking lot.  Oh!  That was the entrance to the appropriate parking deck!  Great signage.

As usual, all the van spaces were filled with small cars (Yes, its legal.).  I circled the level.  One parking space, too small to fit into, let alone open the doors and deploy the ramp.  I circled again.  Finally!  A space on the end of a row!  Ewww! “Retail shopping only.  90 minute limit.  Towing enforced.”  Even though I was headed for a government office, I decided to take a chance that I would be done in 90 minutes.

Out on the street, a police officer was waiting for the light to change.  I asked where the wheelchair entrance was for the building.  I was headed to the wrong building.  Thank Goodness I asked! Benny and I crossed the other street.  A young man approached.  A neighbor.  We barely spoke, “I have paperwork to do,” as I hurried toward the entrance.

“That’s what I was here for, too!” he replied.  We separated, he staying outside.

I panicked!  I was in the courthouse!  Oh No! Guards!  Searches!  Benny!  I wasn’t prepared for that!  “Come on through, he’ll hand search you.”  Please, Benny, don’t bite a guard.  Behave.  Pleaassseee.

The guard poked into by side bag, then moved around to my other side.  He felt a bag hanging off the back.  It crinkled.  “What’s this?”

“That’s my dog’s poop bags.”  He dropped it instantly.  “The other bag is my camera.”

“Uh oh.  Cameras aren’t allowed in the court house.”

“May I leave it here with you and pick it up on my way out?”

“No, ma’am.  We’re not supposed to hold anything for you.  You’ll have to leave it in your car.”

I don’t know what happened.  I just started to loose it.  I turned away and then turned back to ask, “What about my camera phone?”  My eyes were starting to well up.  Back out on the street, tears began running.  I held my head down, hoping no one would notice.

Back at the van, I started dumping my bags in the “trunk” and wondered if I would make it back within the 90 minutes.  Then I realized how lucky I was.  I pulled out my Leatherman tool with its assorted knives.  I pulled out a hemostat (that could easily be taken for scissors).  And from the other side, I removed my laser pointer.  I sat a moment and tried to calm down.  Any other “weapons”?

Then it was back across the two streets.  By the time I was back with the same two guards, the tears were running again.  They apologized several times.  I’m sure they felt like total clods.  I had asked if I was in the right building, so they knew why I was there.  I guess I should be happy — they didn’t try to search Benny.

Upstairs, I ducked into the ladies room to look for my composure and try to dry off a bit (my Kleenex was now in the back of the van).  But by the time I got to the receptionist’s desk, I was totally unglued.  All I could do was nod or shake my head in response to her questions.  “Did you come here by yourself?  You shouldn’t have come alone.”  Oh, that made me feel sooo much better!

She asked for my paperwork.  Instead of handing her the car title, CarMax quote, marriage license, death certificate, Will and my ID, I shoved the entire folder under the safety glass.  After going through and picking out what she needed, she said we didn’t need to do the Will thing.  Since the car was the only thing that wasn’t in both of our names, and since it was valued less than the “Widow’s Allowance” . . . the PT Cruiser is now mine.  Well, sort of.

Back at the van, junk loaded back in all my bags (but rather haphazardly), I suddenly felt calm.  No more tears.  No sense of dread.  So strange.

I decided to press my luck and hit the DMV on my way home.  Man, I HATE that parking lot.  Its rather short of curb cuts — I have to park at the grocery store just to be able to get onto the sidewalk.  The guy at the end of the line saw me coming and held the door.  I took one look and said, “I don’t think I’m going to come in.  Thanks anyway.”  He saw me coming because the end of the double line was at the door.

Back at home, I fell apart again.  I don’t know why today was so hard.  I hope tomorrow will be better.  Benny did a great job today.  And I must brag on him.  Yesterday, we met an MS staffer for lunch.  Benny has done well in restaurants in the past, so I wasn’t really worried.  While we sat and waited for our companion to arrive, the tables next to us began to fill.  On one side was a crying baby.  On the other side was a group of eight to ten very noisy youngsters.  All the ruckus bothered him at first, but after a while he calmed down.  I was delighted.

We have a challenge ahead of us this weekend.  The dog trainer’s group is meeting again.  I missed the last one, stayed home with Lew.  This is the first time I’ll be taking Benny with me.  Of course, I’m sure everyone will be judging my training skills.  And, of course, any faults will be Lew’s fault.

A neighbor emailed yesterday.

Our neighbors got a puppy Saturday afternoon. All last week they were tossing around names. The dad tossed out Louie and everyone (including me) really liked it … except for their daughter, the nine year old. She was adamant that the name would NOT be used – very strong negative reaction. When asked why she was so opposed, she said that it was too similar to Mr. Lew’s name.

As a family they prayed for Lew the last few years and ALWAYS enjoyed seeing him drive by with the beautiful white hair, friendly smile, and big wave. Their daughter did not want to think about Mr. Lew being gone every time they called their dog Louie.

The van company sent me to a really great repair place in Concord.  I didn’t have to wait for service.  They had Sugar in the bay within minutes.  They got her thoroughly soaked on the outside, tried to stick paper into every seam . . . They found a hole that was too small for the amount of water that got inside, patched it anyway.  They didn’t find the leak.  They did say that sometimes it happens and never happens again.  The owner told me that he lives only a couple of miles from here and that if I get water inside again, he’ll pick up my van so I don’t have to sit around there all day while they take my van apart.  I’m not thrilled with that possibility, but they struck me as people I could trust.

Lisa and I spent a while this morning looking for the battery charger for his circular saw.  I finally realized that we had been looking right at it and didn’t recognize it it.  (I haven’t installed my HAM radio in my van yet.  I was waiting for Lew to have a good day so he could cut a board to the right size for me.  Now that Lisa has put the saw horses and small saw where I can get to them, I don’t have an excuse.)  I’m looking for stuff a lot.  Maybe tomorrow I’ll recognize the card reader for his computer.

My next door neighbor went by the used car dealer downtown and asked about Lew’s PT Cruiser.  I was surprised by the small amount they’d pay for it.  Lisa took it to CarMax and they gave me a quote of $1,500 more.  And they don’t care that the windshield needs to be replaced (they can get it cheaper than I can).  So, if anyone out there wants a 2002 PT Cruiser with 50,000 miles, usable tires, almost new battery . . . speak up quick.  The CarMax quote is good for only seven days.

I don’t know how I’m going to handle clearing out his stuff.  Folding his clothing has been soothing — its going very slowly, but I find it a good thing to do when I can’t keep busy with other stuff.  I’m looking forward to getting his Porter Cable table saw out of MY garage.  As soon as I find all the attachments . . .