Strolling Down Memory Lane

There is probably no better means of reminiscing than to spend 5-6 hours shredding old documents, as I recently did. We all know the conventional wisdom that tells us to retain tax records for seven years (or forever if you want to cover all your bases), but according to several reputable financial websites, you may safely discard bank statements more than a year old. For reasons defying explanation, Randy had a very neat, tidy box of bank statements down in the basement dating back to 1989. No, your eyes do not deceive you; you read that right.

Now, these same financial institutions encourage you to keep any checks related to your home mortgage, tax payments, etc., so I dutifully went through each and every statement, separating the returned checks, pulling out the important ones, and shredding the rest.

Did you know that you can learn a lot just by reading your bank statements? Here are twenty things I learned over the past two days, in no particular order:

1. I get a LOT of haircuts.
2. I've paid a shocking amount of money to LTD Commodities over the past 15 years.
3. Between 1997 and 2004 I changed check designs EIGHT times.
4. I used to write checks for items I would never dream of paying by check for today.
5. I do NOT miss having a car payment.
6. I can't believe how expensive stamps have become.
7. I remember the names of lots of the payees to whom I wrote checks, but have NO IDEA who they are/were.
8. I'm a sucker for "special offers."
9. I'd barely finished paying for Darcy's delivery when I started having to pay for prenatal care all over again.
10. It apparently used to be much harder for me to say no to magazine subscription salesmen (before there were six mouths to feed) than it is now.
11. My first obstetrician supported me through three miscarriages, yet didn't even get to see the product of my first successful delivery because we moved to Ohio three weeks before Tyler was born.
12. Prenatal care was a LOT cheaper in Tennessee.
13. I can't seem to pass up cookbook sales.
14. I've blown a ton of money on chiropractors and still have a bad back.
15. I can track Randy's pay raises by the increase in our weekly contribution to the church.
16. We're loyal customers of State Farm.
17. We have a knack for finding good Chinese food wherever we live.
18. Randy and I ate more pizza before we had kids than we have in the 11 years since.
19. I made regular payments to people who I have no recollection of now. How is that possible?
20. When friends try to sell me something, I have a hard time saying no. (Note to new Arlington friends: please don't use that information against me!)
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Changing the subject, the big Canada trip began today so Randy, Tyler and Darcy hit the road at about 7:00 this morning. You're rubbing your eyes again, aren't you? Yes, I said DARCY went to Canada. Total spur of the moment thing. I was sad to see her go because she is really good to keep me company when Randy is out of town, but I'm glad that Tyler will have her company since a lot of their time (when they're not at the gospel meeting each night) might be spent sitting around and visiting with the folks from the church there.

Peyton, Sawyer and I have had a great day together--we got some packing and rearranging done this morning, did a little grocery shopping, stopped in at the library, and now Andy, our neighbor's grandson, is here playing. His mother said he has been begging and begging to play with the kids because he knows our move is imminent. I half expected him to turn around and walk home when he realized that Tyler wasn't here, but he and Peyton get along quite well.

Andy doesn't realize it, but he totally made my day no sooner than he'd parked himself in the living room. There were boxes everywhere, there was popcorn on the floor (oh yeah, Peyton and Sawyer watched a movie while I worked in the basement), laundry was stacked on the floor--you get the picture. I have to say that I no longer feel any embarrassment for the state of my house--if moving isn't a good excuse, then I don't know what is--but I still feel obliged to say to newcomers, "You'll have to pardon all the boxes." So when Andy walked in and threw himself on the floor I sort of waved my hand toward the chaos and said, "Sorry the house is a mess." Andy looked at me and said, "No it's not." I said, "Really? You don't think so?" He replied, "No, this is NOTHING compared to my house!" Okay, his house could be a pig sty and nothing to set a standard by, but all I heard was, "Your house is not a mess." So Andy's only eight . . . still, eight-year-olds can have very discriminating taste.

That's what I keep telling myself, anyway.

It helps me sleep better at night.