I'm glad you and Kara go things done, Connie. WRT to probate, (spoiler fonted just in case you don't want to see any of this yet) you should talk to an estate lawyer, but I suspect things will go smoothly. If all your assets are owned jointly, you can just have them put in your name. The same should be true for any assets where you are his named beneficiary. Also, there's no rush on any of it. You can turtle down for a bit if you want or need to. When you are ready to face it, it'll be there for you.

Thanks Burrell, that is good to know. The only bitch I can see are his cars, I can't find the title for his Rodeo, and then there's the '69 Mustang in the backyard I keep forgetting about (not one of the cool ones, doesn't run, needs lots of work, got to figure out how much I can reasonably expect for that--and can get).

Connie, I couldn't even deal with the funeral home stuff. One of our best friends, and his former business partner came to help me with it.

Rob didn't have a will either, and it still is a bitch to deal with. I just got a check from BoA today for him--refund of fees. The probate process without a will takes longer than with. And you will have to start the process in order to obtain duplicate titles for the vehicles. Get an estate lawyer. There will be claims against his estate from creditors, and you don't need to deal with the bullshit because they are merciless. And depending on Utah's intestate succession laws, Kara may be entitled to a portion of what was in his name only, and will have to sign off on you being executrix.

She's going to take his ashes, because I have a soul deep "can't cope" when it comes to remains. He was still my husband there in the hospital room, but the idea of handling a box of what used to be him makes me scream inside.

My outlaws have his ashes, at least those that were not scattered from the C-47 at the airshow. I could NOT deal with them. At all. I was freaked out enough about him dying in the house. To be honest, that's what he probably would have wanted anyway. I'm OK with that. I knew I was always second to his mom and dad.

If the process hasn't started, there are biodegradable urns that also contain seeds that eventually become a tree. That is something I've considered. [link]

There is nothing I can think of that is only in his name. All bank stuff was joint, and a lot of physical property was solely in my name, as I didn't have pesky student loan people after me, and they tried and failed years ago to con me into thinking I was responsible for those.

Maybe some legal aid place can help with this.

Graham crackers (which the cat likes, oddly enough)

Found on my hard drive, from a website of old letters. I found it soothing.

131 Mount Vernon St., Boston

July 28th (1883)

My dear Grace,

Before the sufferings of others I am always utterly powerless, and the letter you gave me reveals such depths of suffering that I hardly know what to say to you. This indeed is not my last word—but it must be my first. You are not isolated, verily, in such states of feeling as this—that is, in the sense that you appear to make all the misery of all mankind your own; only I have a terrible sense that you give all and receive nothing—that there is no reciprocity in your sympathy—that you have all the affliction of it and none of the returns. However—I am determined not to speak to you except with the voice of stoicism. I don't know why we live—the gift of life comes to us from I don't know what source or for what purpose; but I believe we can go on living for the reason that (always of course up to a certain point) life is the most valuable thing we know anything about and it is therefore presumptively a great mistake to surrender it while there is any yet left in the cup. In other words consciousness is an illimitable power, and though at times it may seem to be all consciousness of misery, yet in the way it propagates itself from wave to wave, so that we never cease to feel, though at moments we appear to, try to, pray to, there is something that holds one in one's place, makes it a standpoint in the universe which it is probably good not to forsake. You are right in your consciousness that we are all echoes and reverberations of the same, and you are noble when your interest and pity as to everything that surrounds you, appears to have a sustaining and harmonizing power. Only don't, I beseech you, generalize too much in these sympathies and tendernesses—remember that every life is a special problem which is not yours but another's, and content yourself with the terrible algebra of your own. Don't melt too much into the universe, but be as solid and dense and fixed as you can. We all live together, and those of us who love and know, live so most. We help each other—even unconsciously, each in our own effort, we lighten the effort of others, we contribute to the sum of success, make it possible for others to live. Sorrow comes in great waves—no one can know that better than you—but it rolls over us, and though it may almost smother us it leaves us on the spot and we know that if it is strong we are stronger, inasmuch as it passes and we remain. It wears us, uses us, but we wear it and use it in return; and it is blind, whereas we after a manner see. My dear Grace, you are passing through a darkness in which I myself in my ignorance see nothing but that you have been made wretchedly ill by it; but it is only a darkness, it is not an end, or the end. Don't think, don't feel, any more than you can help, don't conclude or decide—don't do anything but wait. Everything will pass, and serenity and accepted mysteries and disillusionments, and the tenderness of a few good people, and new opportunities and ever so much of life, in a word, will remain. You will do all sorts of things yet, and I will help you. The only thing is not to melt in the meanwhile. I insist upon the necessity of a sort of mechanical condensation—so that however fast the horse may run away there will, when he pulls up, be a somewhat agitated but perfectly identical G. N. left in the saddle. Try not to be ill—that is all; for in that there is a future. You are marked out for success, and you must not fail. You have my tenderest affection and all my confidence.

Ever your faithful friend—

Henry James

Sorry to interrupt, but I figured someone here might know -- I just hennaed my hair. It looks pretty good, I think. But, the water pressure in my shower isn't that good, and I can't get all of it rinsed out. I shampooed three times, but there's still a lot of henna grit stuck to my hair. Any suggestions?

Hil, do you have a tub you can fill up and dip your head into? Or would that be too hard on your joints?

I don't have a tub, just a stall shower.

A large buck you can fill with water?

A large buck you can fill with water?

The white-tailed deer of Pennsylvania object to that sort of thing. Your local deer may vary.