Bfth's Boring Blog

Does this feel familiar?  Haven't we done this before?  It was just a little over a year ago that many of us were in this same place, mourning the loss of my mother.  Getting my father into this church was a chore but done thanks to Rev. Brooks Hundley.  He sat in a wheelchair right there.  And now here we are again.  As each of you here know, my dad could be a difficult man.  One of the reasons I believe he was so "difficult was that when he committed to something; he was resolute. Those things that he was passionate about, he was fully dedicated to.  He did NOT do anything halfway.  When he was in, he was IN.  That goes for when I married Steve and he made sure every detail was taken care of at the yacht club that evening, including blocking out a special parking spot just for our car.  It goes for when we decided to adopt James and at the very last minute (just days after he was born and before we could return home) we needed extra funds, he got them to us without hesitatio

Thank you to all of you who are committed to the BBYRA and Sanderlings, and those NBYC members who continue to make this annual regatta a possibility in its 47th year and hopefully for another 47 or more.   My parents were dedicated to sailing on Barnegat Bay.  For DECADES they ran this regatta, meticulously planning every detail to make sure that this day ran smoothly.  It was important to them. YOU and your experience were important to them.   Last year, after my mother passed away, this day was renamed in their honor.  It officially became the Steve & Betsy Foster Sanderling Regatta. My dad, who had mobility challenges, was able to attend this event last year and I believe this was the last time he was able to partake in a social outing.  To all of you who were there that day, Thank You for making it so special.   My dad passed away on July 1st, 357 days after my mom.  You honor them both by coming here today and sailing.  You honor them every time you sail on the bay.  Becaus

For the second time in a week, I visited my town's new bookstore.  Yes, my little town (less than four square miles) now has in addition to its multitude of nail salons and pizza places, a cozy bookstore.  Its right next to one of three coffee shops that are in the town limits and it's a lovely little place.  It's exactly what a neighborhood bookstore SHOULD.  Barnes and Noble overwhelms me, this shop comforts me. I'm of an age when I miss bookstores, record shops, and pharmacies.  All of these things used to be in my town, but until this new bookstore opened last week, had gone by the wayside.   I'm feeling a little nostalgic.  I wonder how many people remember that there WAS a bookstore in town in the 1970s.  I don't recall the name of the store, but I do remember its location, about half a mile (or less) from the new store.  On the same main "drag" but the opposite side of the street.  The building, as I remember it, was small.  It was down and acro

I'm back at my workstation, on the 4th floor of a building in Newark.  I can't remember the exact last time I was here.  It was probably mid-June.  But the last time I was here my son was not yet a high school graduate; my father was still alive.  So it's a bit weird to be sitting here in the dim light (the way I like it; until my co-worker comes in and turns on the light to full glare) looking out at the haze that sits over the city.  I don't want to be here (even though it is cooler than working in my home office, though soon I suppose I will be freezing and having to put on my company fleece over my sleeveless sundress which is the right thing to wear when it is going to be over 90 outside).  I've been working remotely from one of my two homes.  (How awkward is it to say that?  It sounds like I have a lot of money, when I don't.  I do have more money than I've had before and once upon a time I would have considered myself well off, but the bar on that has

 We are more than mid-way through the month of July and summer is quickly going.  Too quickly!  As usual, I'm not sure where the time is going, but the reality of what's coming is slapping me in the face. Yesterday my son got his room assignment and the name of his roommate.  In all honesty, the reason WE knew is because my husband and I attended a college webinar (my son DID NOT, but should have, and he WILL be attending next Wednesday nights which focuses on living on campus) and they mentioned that students had been emailed their room assignments.  So, when he got home from his "date" with his girlfriend, we had him check his email and there it was! So the exciting news is that he will be living on the 13th floor of the dorm that houses (mostly) freshman (I believe) and that his room SHOULD have a harbor view.  (As someone pointed out the view from across the river is better than the view you get from NYC.  You are LOOKING at the city. Or maybe you're looki

 With the death certificates in (how is that for a sentence starter?), it was time to go to Surrogate Court to start the probate process. (NJ is a state where you must do this.)  I did this last year for my mom, so you'd think that it would be easy for me, but I'll admit that I seem to have forgotten most of what I'd done last year. I did remember that I had to go to the county in which my dad had resided to do this.  I'm really happy that he (and my mom) DIDN'T live in Essex County, NJ.  My experience (both times) with the Ocean County Surrogate's office in Tom's River was very positive.  Last year, it took a bit longer (as I had to have my dad sign off on being unable to be executor of my mom's estate, which required a trip to the attorney's office), but this year was a breeze.   The office does not take appointments and you CAN mail in your forms, but I prefer to do this in person. I left the house around 6:30 and the most complicated thing was ge

 But maybe tired isn't the right word.  I'm worn.  I'm sluggish.  I'm unfocused.  So exhausted that I couldn't even begin to write this  for several hours even though I wanted to.  Wait, maybe tired IS the right word! It's been a long week and while I feel as if I haven't gotten much accomplished, I know that I have gotten SOME things accomplished.  I need to remember Bishop Desmond Tutu's sage advice:   This week has been full of small bites, just not necessarily the bites that I wanted to take. There is so much that I NEED to do and that I (unjustly) feel that I MUST do NOW.  I've forgotten that things take time.  (Or to quote Ringo:  "Time takes time.")  So rather than focus on what I DIDN'T do (call the plumber, gas up the car, go to the ATM) or things that I COULDN'T do yet (close out my dad's bank account, get the will into probate), I should think about what I DID do.  Let me think about the small bites of elephant that I

 My alarm went off at the usual weekday morning time. (4:44; which you may think is too early, but it used to be 4:14.  I used to get up that early and REALLY walk.  That changed when I hurt my knee in December and while I do still walk, I'm definitely not as fast nor do I walk as far.  In some ways I've become a lazy blob; not getting enough exercise and eating too much crap.  This needs to change.  Any GENTLE support with that would be appreciated because I'm not ready to drastically change my life.  I've had WAY too much change over the past year.  I need gentle and kind change.)  I didn't want to get up.  I've been ignoring my alarm (and my walks) more and more because I'm just too tired. (Or I'm just too lazy...you make the call.)  But today, despite being up too late (at least for me), I got up.  (I'll have to admit that the alarm must have been going off for several minutes before my consciousness finally realized it.  It's a gentle-ish al

  Dear Dad, Today was your kind of day.  The street was bustling with trucks and noise as MB's house continues to grow.  You should have been here, sitting in "your chair" and watching out the window.  I know you would have had plenty of report back to MB, keeping her abreast of every move the multiple workers made.   There were MANY trucks and workers.  It was hard to pull onto the block this morning when I came down.  (Working from home for the first part of the morning and then driving down after I was convinced early morning traffic was cleared.)  I didn't make it in record time.  (I'm not stupid; I know the cops are out there waiting.)  However, I did make good time and was able to set up my work laptop in the back den (aka your room).  I opened almost all the windows and got to work.  There was a great breeze and plenty of noise from the construction and the trucks coming in and out.  There was even work being done next door (south side, not north) which was

 Dear Mom, Well it's been one year.  I remember this day very well, although I prefer to recall the day before when you made your extraordinary phone calls to friends to say good bye. ( https://bfthsboringblog.blogspot.com/2022/07/making-phone-calls.html ).  It was this day, one year ago, that I held your hand and you took your last breath.  (I have to be honest here; your breathing was really strange at the end.  You'd stop and I'd think, "this is it" and I'd wait.  Then you'd take another breath after what seemed like an eternity and I'd think "nope."  At the very end I stood there and waited and waited and waited; I think a good five minutes passed before I finally called a nurse.) I know you were looking for peace.  As your son-in-law pointed out you are probably annoyed (do souls get annoyed?), that you didn't even get a full year of peace, only 357 days until dad joined you.  As you said, "that man won't let me go anywhere

Having done this before, not quite a year ago, you would think this would get easier.  It does not.  Writing about my dad has been much more challenging than I anticipated and in putting these thoughts together, I sadly realized that I really didn't know all that much about my father.  This is my fault; this is his fault. He wasn't a big talker, at least not when it came to life stories. I wish I could change that, but I can't, so... In digging around the house this past week, I did find my father's senior yearbook and what was written under his senior photos proves my above point:  Steve's main interests are his two dogs which he often exhibits.  (How ironic that he married a woman who was allergic and had a daughter who just as allergic.) He likes all outdoor sports; especially hunting and fishing.  (I never saw him do either; although I do think there are photos of him fishing in the 1960s when we vacationed on Cape Cod.)  He has participated in various school at

 ...about the house.  (For clarity:  I am talking about the house that my parents lived in at the Jersey Shore.)  I realize that you mean well.  (Or at least most of you do...if you've read  https://bfthsboringblog.blogspot.com/2023/07/not-guilty.html  you know who I mean.) My mom died a year ago Sunday.  My dad died last Saturday.  I am NOT focused on the house right now.  I am working on organizing a memorial down at the shore later this month.  (Which is turning out to be a lot more complicated than I thought it would be and SHOULD be.)  I am thinking about the graveside service that is scheduled for tomorrow morning.  I planning for the people that might come back to our house afterwards.  (Have no idea how many; so I've ordered some food and have some beverages and think I have enough.  I probably have too much, but that's how I roll.)  I am fielding phone calls and messages from friends and relatives, which I appreciate (if you're reading this Amanda, Linda, Pat

It may be surprising but yesterday was a pretty good 4th of July. Is that callous?  Is that weird?  Is that unfeeling?  I'd say no to all of these and would say, it is good that it was good.  (How's that for a sentence?) In many ways it felt "normal."  It was almost (but obviously not quite) the holiday that I wanted.  In many ways it was typical.  Again that is something that I think I needed. My husband and I came down to the shore on Monday. Yes, we left the boy behind...he didn't want to come and I can't blame him.  Instead of dealing with sad (and in some ways disgusting) stuff, he was able to hang out with friends on Monday night and spend the 4th with his girlfriend (and her parents).  So I'm guessing that he had a pretty good July 4th too. Though the 3rd was a little rough, I woke up on the 4th hoping for a good day and I sort of got that.  Hubby and I went to get coffee at Wawa , a very typical thing for us to do when we are here.  It was crazy, e