In the Greenwood Circle/Monte Vista neighborhood

I walked around my neighborhood this morning, chatted with the guy who has the diesel truck, 1996 Ford. I had thought he had that truck when they built their house, about a year after we built ours. But he said he had a Dodge then, I think. Not important, I know. But I hear his diesel truck in the mornings and thought I had heard it all these twenty-some years.

I am not sure if they had/have two daughters or two daughters and a son. I met their family when they had just moved in. You know, being a friendly neighbor. Twenty years has likely taken any and all of their children out of the house now. I told him I liked his house, the new paint, the colors. He said he has to re-roof, get rid of the cedar shakes and said he'd have to ask the name of my roofer. I told him, Scott Myers.

And I told him I hear his diesel truck in the mornings. Two things I didn't tell him. 1. I don't hear it every morning any more. Maybe he's retired or just doesn't go in to work every day. Or maybe I'm gone or whatever. 2. The sound of the truck does not disturb me. I find it comforting. You know, the comfort we find in things staying the same.

Yesterday a man and a woman were power washing the empty house behind me, and so I wonder: Are they the owners come to make the house suitable for renters? Are they painters? Or are they renting it now, soon to be moving in?

The house next door to that one, the house on the corner, has a new owner, about a year now. I learned this morning that her name is Julie. Apparently, she lives there alone. She has had a sun roof/deck built on the back of the house. I introduced myself to her when she was moving in. Maybe I need to stop by again. Maybe.

And the turquoise and white house has folks in it, as I've mentioned before.

I suppose anyone in a neighborhood like mine would be concerned about who buys into it, who moves in. When I was young, very young, I did not understand such things. I do now. This is a good neighborhood, kind people, helpful. And, as my painters noticed, it's quiet back in here. Who wouldn't want it to stay that way?

Just giving thanks

This is a good house in a good neighborhood.

I mention it because the painters have been here--Friday, Saturday, Monday, Tuesday, which is today, and I hope they can finish today. They have told me they like the house, well Ed did, and they have remarked on how quiet it is back in this little place where I live.

My house looks good. New roof, new paint. Things repaired and kept up. I think Wayne should be proud, if such things matter at all anymore.

I think we're all pretty independent in the neighborhood, and yet I can count on help from at least three of my neighbors. And I know they're honest, good people.

The house is too big for me, say others, and perhaps I might agree, but I own it. And it's a good house.

So far, I'm staying.

Out of the past

About a year after Wayne died I bought long-term care insurance. The reason: I was scared, and I knew for sure that anything can happen. I have since wished I did not buy it but haven't had the guts to cancel it.

It provides $100 per day to whoever is caring for me, if and when such care becomes necessary, which I hope is never. So I have been paying a whopping premium every year for 10 years.

The guy who sold it to me was Blaine Grow. The company was GE, but the policy is now held by Genworth Financial.

Last week I got a note from Blaine, and his business card was stuck in the note. But in large handwriting was a note from Carolyn Baum Buttorf, telling me my benefit has increased and explaining how to access that benefit and assuring me that Blaine or she can help if I need. Then she includes a personal note of good wishes to me and my family.

So. She is affiliated with Genworth Financial and/or Blaine.

We knew her--and her husband, Mark--in Caldwell. She is tall and, I suppose, a go-getter. She served a mission and then came home to wait for Mark to finish his mission. I don't know where he served or where he was from or where they met (probably on the mission), but they married and have one son.

She was in choirs I directed, where her alto voice was . . . nevermind.

There.