Strange Days...

 

We've had a tarp over the porch roof for a week now,

 because we had to special order a part of the metal roof.

 

In the meantime,

Terry cut all of the pieces he had,

 and they are ready to go...

 

He also continues his waterproofing mission

 around the basement foundation.

 

Here, he has dug out around the base,

 and put down plastic,

caulked to the brick...

 

Laid down lots more dirt,

 and covered with mulch.

 

I keep calling him "nuts",

but it is working.

 

The basement is not leaking.

 

Here's our garage filled with all of the crap from his brother's house.

I don't even know what we're going to do with all of this stuff.

 

Endless amounts of tools, and tools, and tools.

 

Four "Shop-Vacs", 59 flashlights,

and buckets and buckets of stuff.

 

Yesterday,  we went to pick up our special order roof part for the back porch,

 and we decided to stop in at the Jeep dealership,

because my lease was ending soon,

and we wanted to test drive a Renegade.

 

I've had a Chevy Malibu for six years now,

 and I was sick of it, so I really wanted to go outside of my comfort zone...

 

Well, a couple hours later,

and the deal was done.

 

Goodbye Malibu.

 

Hello Jeep Renegade.

 

Here we are going out to get our new car.

 

Mike Paparelli from Jim Riehl's Jeep,

was a really nice guy.

 

There she is...

Soo excited...

 

until Terry's brother called while we were

still in the lot.

 

He was evicted and needed us to take him to a shelter.

 

We took the new car home,

 and climbed into Terry's car and went to get him.

 

It is very sad to watch a person's life spiral out of control

 and not be able to stop it.

 This has been coming for a year now.

 We have been hanging in the background,

 helping when we could, and helpless when we couldn't.

 

Tim made it very difficult to help,

 as he was quite sound of mind, and refused to be

guided.

He squandered his life savings on drugs and alcohol,

and lost his home,

 and we stood by with no recourse to stop what we knew was happening.

 

 At one point we actually went to the police

 and signed an order to have him committed,

 and the police escorted him to the hospital,

 but the hospital let him walk out.

 

A year later, here we are.

He has lost everything.

 

If I could figure out a way to fit him into our home,

 I would,

 but I just can't.

 

We dropped him off at a shelter

 with no money in his pocket,

and not even a cigarette to smoke.

 

Terry is crushed,

 and my head is whirling with "how can I fix this?"

 

The only shelter that would take him

 was at Martin Luther King and Third Street

 in the bowels of Detroit.

 

He's going to last one day,

and be calling us to come and get him,

and then we have no idea what we're going to do.

 

So we drove home in silence,

or in shock,

not sure which,

 

but I knew I had a daughter

 who was waiting to drive the new car with me.

 So we went out for a drive and got accustomed to the new ride.

 

There's the face of innocence.