Burning the midnight oil !!

While watching–and listening–to TV Church, I was sorting family history paperworkand other “paper stuff.” I came across a story that I believe needed to be copied to the Internet. Here is a link to the story in my Ancestry.com  database: Supercentenarian celebrates her 111th birthday. Hopefully, the reader can access the story because I can’t test the link. (Ancestry recognizes me.) *

Here is a picture of “family history paperwork” that is more than three decades old. One… is dated 19 February 1987. All will go into the trash bin because it has no value. The information is well-documented in my Ancestry.com  database.


*Please “comment” if you cannot read the story.


“I’m not old…

…just mature.”

Today at the drug store the clerk was a gent
From my purchase, this chap took off ten percent.
I asked for the cause of a lesser amount;
And he answered, “Because of the Seniors Discount.”

I went to McDonald’s for a burger and fries;
And there, once again, got quite a surprise.
The clerk poured some coffee which he handed to me.
He said, “For you, Seniors, the coffee is free.”

Understand… I’m not old… I’m merely mature.
But some things are changing, temporarily, I’m sure.
The newspaper print gets smaller each day,
And people speak softer… can’t hear what they say.

My teeth are my own (I have the receipt),
And my glasses identify people I meet.
Oh, I’ve slowed down a bit … not a lot, I am sure.
You see, I’m not old… I’m only mature.

The gold in my hair has been bleached by the sun.
You should see all the damage that chlorine has done.
Washing my hair has turned it all white,
But don’t call it gray… saying “blond” is just right.

My car is all paid for… not a nickel is owed.
Yet a kid yells, “Old duffer… get off of the road!”
My car has no scratches… not even a dent.
Still I get all that guff from a punk who’s “Hell bent.”

My friends all get older… much faster than me.
They seem much more wrinkled, from what I can see.
I’ve got “character lines,” not wrinkles… for sure,
But don’t call me old… just call me mature.

The steps in the houses they’re building today
Are so high that they take … your breath all away;
And the streets are much steeper than ten years ago.
That should explain why my walking is slow.

But I’m keeping up on what’s hip and what’s new,
And I think I can still dance a mean boogaloo.
I’m still in the running… in this I’m secure,
I’m not really old… I’m only mature.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

While “downsizing,” I found this poem and knew I wanted to share it with my readers. ~~ I love the beautiful roses in my yard. ~~ Wishing you a blessed Lord’s Day!!


“People who live in glass houses…

…should not throw stones.”

Several days ago, I created this image (left) from an accurate image of careless documentation by a subscriber to Ancestry.com. I attached it to the individual hoping to encourage subscribers (readers) to double-check their records. To my chagrin, today I saw that I had a similar error in my tree.

Years ago, I earned my living as a “proofreader.” Errors have a way of “popping off the page” to me. Furthermore, I check and double-check each person before I move to siblings or parents. According to comments I attached to Phoebe Gaffield Watson, it has been five years since I last documented this family. Five years with this gross error. Shame, shame, Lorraine!!

Downsizing !!

Now (above) and then (below).

Disposal of one box with dozens of boxes destined for another location. Genealogy to the Brethren Heritage Center and miscellaneous to Thrift Shops.

Insane Lorraine (it rhymes)

“Best laid plans of mice and men” (yada, yada, yada). I was planning to shred “stuff” with names and addresses; I was going to box things up and send them to the Brethren Heritage Center. “No, I have to add this information to my Ancestry database.” So I hauled a lot more “stuff” into my trailer home!! At this rate (slow), I won’t make progress with my downsizing?!


Postscript at 4:15 PM: Time for an Aleve!!

Bit off more than I can chew ?!

Obviously, I had to wait for nice weather. Now it is “sweating hot” in the carport and storage. I rarely perspire but “perspire”  was profuse!! ~~ In good conscience, I cannot leave that stuff for my executor to dispose of.


<< The right side of storage and the left side of storage. >>



I had to stop; I needed an Aleve!! “Bit off more than I can chew”; “too much on my plate”?