The Money Bowl

How much attention do you give to the coins in your pockets? For years, my wife and I have emptied our pockets at the end of the day and tossed coins into a wooden gourd that rests near the front door.

We do this because somewhere along the line, we heard that keeping such a bowl was good luck and would bring money into the house. However, we didn't bother to research the details. Year after year, we tossed loose change into the wooden gourd, and at least once a year, we'd roll the coins and bring home some bills that we earmarked for vacation spending treats.

Now, decades later, I did some research about this particular superstition, and from what I could find online, except for the wood gourd, we've been doing it wrong. According to superstition, the container – a money bowl – should hold objects that indicate wealth, like jewelry, crystals, gold or shiny objects, and glass beads. Proper feng shui suggests placing the money bowl in the furthest left corner of the house. Adding a mixture of rice and spices that can be purchased online as a 'money bowl starter kit' is also recommended. Instructions for casting a money bowl spell are also available online. Our habit of tossing pocket change into a wooden gourd is questionable as to its significance in bringing money into the house. But is it?

Since retirement, we've been using credit cards for practically all purchases – to earn points applicable to entertainment, dinner out, or travel. And because of that, the gourd has been on the not-too-full side, and we haven't rolled coins in some time.

But now, here comes the story: Not too long ago, I needed to purchase three lower-priced items (each at a different store), so I headed out with a twenty-dollar bill in my pocket.

The first purchase was eight dollars and change, the second was seven dollars and change, and the third was a dollar and change. When I returned home, I emptied what I expected to be four quarters, a couple of dimes and nickles, and a few pennies from my pocket.

Except three quarters weren't twenty-five cent pieces – they were Susan B. Anthony dollar coins!

I do not know which merchant made the error since I didn't take receipts for these minimal cash purchases. If the merchant started the day with these coins counted as quarters, the error most likely wouldn't have made the register unbalanced at the end of the day. I didn't feel obligated to retrace my steps. Still to myself, I smiled and thought SCORE!

When sharing this story with a friend, she told me she recently broke open a roll of quarters to find that more than half were Susan B. Anthonies. Now, that's a SCORE!

I went back to my computer and googled the Susan B. Anthony dollar. To my surprise, some Anthonies are worth a LOT MORE than a dollar. In 1979, some Anthonies arrived in circulation with flaws, like the date extending too far to the rim, making them worth much more than their face value. I learned that off-center errors occur when a coin is struck off-center. The punched die is not in the coin's center but closer to the edge. The greater the off-center strike, the scarcer and more valuable the coin becomes. I pulled out my magnifying glass and studied the Anthonies in my possession. It is sad to report that none of the 1979 coins were flawed, and none with the P for Philadelphia mint—all are Ds---Denver mint and are worth no more than one dollar.

The next time you receive a handful of coins, look closely! And it might be a good idea to keep your coin dealer's phone number handy.

Cheers!

Judy

Dad's Chair

Memories of Dad's chair have a special place in my heart. The armchair with mahogany legs and handrests and brass upholstery tacks was never moved to other spots in our Walnut Street house. The chair and matching footstool --- invisibly bolted to the oak flooring for 56 years --- were reupholstered twice, as far as I can recall.

Dad's chair transported me to my youth and evenings watching television together. Dad and I chatted about the weather, sports, and whatever made the headlines that evening. Our favorite shows were 'anything cowboy,' especially Bonanza and The Rifleman. Another favorite was Red Skelton and I especially remember my dad's hearty laugh during that show. I felt special perched on the chair's matching footstool as Dad teased me by putting his bare feet on my back. He'd nudge me at the top of the hour—I'd get up, walk over to the television, and change the channel to one of the three choices available in the early 1960s. When Dad began to snore, I'd gently tap his foot, and if Mom witnessed this act, she'd scold, "Let your father rest."

Decades later, after Dad died and Mom moved into a memory care unit, my sisters and I went about emptying the family home and preparing it for sale. My parents didn't own material things of value. Although well cared for, most of their possessions were not worth much. The exceptions were the antique and pristine bedroom furniture. Those pieces stayed in the family.

However, I couldn't stand to let Dad's chair go to another family or worse yet, the dump! I paid to move the chair from Pennsylvania to Washington State and set it in the corner of the bedroom. I added a suitable end table and the perfect reading lamp. 'A fine reading nook,' I told myself happily, envisioning hours tucked away with a book.

It was the most uncomfortable chair in my house. I placed plywood under the seat cushion and propped bed pillows around me. I wasn't about to give it up. I sat in it maybe twice in three years.

With a heavy heart, I contemplated selling the chair. My son suggested photographing it, so it's not forgotten. The following summer, I posted the chair and footstool for sale on a local swap site and may have gotten back 1/10 of what it cost to ship it three years earlier.

Not long after I sold the chair, I got to thinking and realized that for the last decade or so of his life, Dad sat in a recliner -- not this chair that I was attached to. But I wasn't living with him when he purchased the recliner. The reality is that the chair and its footstool were uncomfortable for Dad in his senior years--now, my senior years.

I smile every time I see the photo. This winter, I think I'll watch some Bonanza and Red Skelton episodes. I'm sure they'll be available through one of many television streaming channels.

Time to Let it Go

Each doctor had a different acronym. The third appointment told me what I feared: 'It was time.'

She explained, "You've invested money and significant care. You've done your best. You did everything right. Fifty-some years is a long time. It's time to let it go." The theme from Disney's Frozen played in my head.

She told me the procedure would take about a half hour, and I’d remember nothing.

So, on July 1st, I bid a sad farewell to tooth number 30.

For the procedure, I opted for an intravenous anesthetic because I didn't want to hear or feel anything. Some are braver and don't mind hearing the snapping, cracking, or popping (this is where the Rice Krispies jingle plays in my mind).

If there were causes for drilling, I didn’t want to know. Tell me about it afterward or not at all.

Other patients don't mind listening to the chatter and instructions during a procedure. For them, numbing the area is enough. As for me, I treat all procedures like a colonoscopy. I don't want to hear anyone say "Oops." The surgeon's assistant told me they avoided saying that word. Still, I didn't risk it.

And, I didn't want to feel the pressure of the surgeon leaning against me as she steadied the forceps and yanked. Not me. The less I know the better I will feel afterward.

The oral surgeon was right. I don't remember anything. The gauze, swollen cheek, and sore jaw were the only reminders of the extraction. The gauze lasted an hour, the swelling is still there, and the jawbone will take several weeks to heal completely. A slight bruise appeared this morning.

I've begun my two-week menu of soft foods: cottage cheese, applesauce, mashed potatoes with melted sharp cheddar, chicken broth with noodles, eggs with lightly toasted plain bread, and chocolate pudding. My wife makes a mean protein smoothie, too. A half flat of Spooner's raspberries sits on the kitchen counter. I'll freeze them to enjoy later in the month; for now, I must stay clear of tiny seeds.

Our dog, Suzy, sensed something was amiss. Suzy isn’t a cuddler unless she’s frightened and then can’t get close enough. When I returned home after the extraction, Suzy sat next to me. I imagined she knew how I felt because she’s missing a few teeth!

So, dear readers, that’s all I have for this month. Check out my website for prior postings and some other fun stuff. www.judykiehart.com

If you’ve read Calico Lane, thank you! Please consider posting a few words as a review on www.Amazon.com/dp/0578340836

And remember to floss only the teeth you want to save!

Cheers!