Compulsive hoarding is a mental disorder that is just beginning to be understood. As a hoarder, I have acquired things over the years with a specific purpose in mind at the time of the acquisition, used some of those items for their intended purposes, forgotten the goal for different objects, but now that I find that they have outlived their purpose in my life I am struggling to rid myself of those same things.

You can read the start of my journey here.

Monday, October 10, 2011

October is a gypsy...

I'm still working on paperwork. I still haven't found the birth certificates nor the other social security card, but I'm still looking. Broke a tooth in my sleep while I was grinding away the other night. Dental appointment tomorrow.

In the meantime, I've come across a bunch of school papers from 39 years ago from when I was in the second grade. I didn't even remember who my second grade teacher was, and I'm not sure I ever would have, except one paper had her name on it. I can tell she was a tough teacher based on the number of red marks on my pages. 

It's been a bit odd seeing my middle name on some of my school work, because it's spelled wrong. In fact, it was spelled wrong until I was twenty. When I was born the nurse didn't think my parents had the right to spell my name the way they wanted to, so she corrected it to how she felt it should be spelled. Can you imagine anyone being so arrogant as to think they had the right to do something like that?

My parents had no idea how to fix it, or if it could be fixed. So I asked about it when I was at the courthouse so many years ago getting our marriage license. I found out that misspellings on birth certificates can be fixed at any time. Free of charge. So I surprised my folks and had it fixed. Granted, it was twenty years late, but they appreciated it. 

Even though it took awhile to get used to spelling it right, the way my parents intended all along, I am so very thankful I asked for it to be corrected. It felt right. It was right. Looking at my name spelled the way it was when I was little looks so...odd. So wrong. It's funny how it looked right for so many years, but now it no longer does. 

Oh well. 

I do have something that does look right. Right now, even. I came across this cute little poem about October in my school papers, and I thought I'd share it...

 Happy October


  1. I love that poem!

    And now I really want to know what your middle name is...

  2. I'm with Julianna... inquiring minds want to know. ;0)
    I'm leaning towards Gayle and the nurse spelled it Gail.

  3. Love the poem, too.

    You reminded me of a joke.

    A guy named Joe Butthole goes to court to get his name changed.

    And the judge is quite sympathetic..."I can certainly see why you'd like to change your name! What would you like to be called?"

    "Smith. Joe Smith. I'm sick of people saying 'whaddya know, Joe'?"

  4. Sweet poem! and what is your middle name ?

  5. Yes I want to know what your middle name is too!! I love your poem!

  6. Thanks guys, although I can say that I have no idea, if I wrote the poem or not. I've looked for the words online, and I haven't found anything that matches. I just thought it was a cute poem, so I had to post my 7 year old printing. :)

    The misspelling on my name? It is literally just the difference between an 'a' and an 'e', but it makes all the difference in the world with the way it feels. :)


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