My birthday was Nov. 24th. I went out to eat with Susan, John, Bob and Bev. Then we had cake at Bob and Bev's house. John bought me a decorated cake. That was nice. It was nice of everybody to try and make it a special day for me. Still, it was strange not seeing Mom and Dad on this day. Just another one of those days that just won't ever be quite the same again.

I haven't written for a while. A lot of things have happened since I wrote last--mainly, Susan and I finally moved into Mom and Dad's house on I Street. Moving Day was November 27th. We moved Susan's couch, a reclinder, her bookcases, my bookcase, my dresser and chest of drawers, a TV, a table, some storage cabinets, end tables and some boxes of stuff. We still have some odds and ends there to pick up. Some stuff we are leaving to sell later. We moved on Tuesday and Friday I got sick and was sick all that weekend. Some flu/stomach thing. We have both been under the weather. So, needless to say, there are still boxes everywhere. But we're in. Fritzi and Greta don't seem to mind at all. They just want to be where we are.

I have mixed feelings about the house. Oh, I definitely love the house--always have. It is "my" house. I grew up there. But it is strange being there and living there without them there. It almost feels like I'm house sitting while they are on vacation and they'll be back any minute. I still have not dealt with Mom's stuff in the bathroom. This is her rollers, hairpins, etc. The rollers are in this little oval shaped plastic white container she has had this thing for years. Sometimes I just pick it up and rattle it and it reminds me of her. This was her nightly ritual. When I hear that cabinet door under the sink, I automatically think of her going in there every night to roll her hair. She'd stand there with the water running and roll her hair up. I guess she had to get it wet or something. She'd be in her robe and "scuffs". She may not roll it all at once--if there was a TV show on she was watching, she would do it during commercial breaks. Mom's hair was a big deal to her. She was always combing it and messing with it. So I need to do something with her hair stuff. Either get rid of it or save it, but it needs to be moved so we can put our stuff in there.

We turned their old bedroom into a Family Room. It is working out OK. Kind of small, but there's enough room in there for a couch and chair and TV, two people and two Dachshunds. It's kind of our "hang out" room. We'll see how it works out. Mom had just had it painted blue. Probably not the color we'd pick for a Family Room, but it's OK. No need to paint it again so soon. There's a little heater thing plugged into the outlet right by the basement door that Mom had forever. When it comes on, I think of her in her chair and me sitting on the floor or on her bed watching TV or talking. Another one of those "sounds" that reminds of me Mom or just being in that room.

We had our lawn guy do the leaves and gutters. Last year was the first year Dad had not climbed on the ladder and done the gutters himself. It is not easy to do on this house. I'm glad he didn't do it last year. We'll probably never do the gutters ourselves, but hopefully next year we can do the leaves. Mom and Dad always raked their leaves and Dad would burn them even though it is against city regulations to do so anymore. He'd just burn small piles at a time instead of the huge massive pile we used to burn when I was a kid. This was so Dad. Nobody was going to tell him he couldn't burn leaves on his property if he wanted to! Besides, I think he liked doing it. Maybe that's where I get my pyromania tendencies from.

Now when I take Greta out for a walk at night over there I think of Dad walking those streets every night saying his rosary. He would always disappear at some point at night for a little while and I did not until later he was saying the rosary. Last year about this time, he fell up by the church one night and busted his lip. He said he blacked out and/or tripped on the curb. We talked about him not walking after dark anymore and agreed he shouldn't. Ironically, on that same day, Mom had tripped over a curb at the library and fallen. That's when she broke her finger. She had just been in to see me about something and Dad was waiting for her in the car. They both fell on the same day. I remember joking with them and telling them I wasn't going to let them leave the house anymore.

Again, back to the mixed feelings. I want so much to love this house and be happy here. But I'm also having feelings like maybe I'll never be able to move on if I have constant, daily reminders of them. It will get better I hope. After all, it has only been a little over a week.

But, I am proud to once again be living at 1908 I Street.

Love you, Mom and Dad.

Susie