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 |  Where am I going, and why am I in this handbasket? |
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Fair Warning: I've upped the rating on this blog. It is now set at GC. |
| What is your most treasured possession? If you had to pack up and leave your home, never to return what would you take with you? What if you were going to be flying and had a limit of two checked bags? What would you take? I ask because I met two people today who were in this exact situation. These two folks are married. They both have developmental disabilities, and they had been living quite well out in San Diego where they had the friends and some staff to help them with some of the day to day stuff like paying bills, and balancing the checkbook. Unfortunately, the woman had some unscrupulous relatives who invited them to move out to Pennsylvania. The offer sounded genuine enough. They would be close to family, and the family would take care of them. What the family did was steal from them and swindle them. They became the representative payee for the social security, and handled the money. While acting as their fiscal representative, the brother-in-law brokered real estate deal that allowed the couple to become homeowners. Unfortunately for them, it was one of these sub-prime mortgage deals, so they got screwed. The house was buried back in the bowels of a crappy, crime ridden, housing development. It was nowhere near a bus line, or a grocery store, or a pharmacy. Predictably, the family that promised to take care of them started backing out of the picture, and they called social security to cancel the rep. payeeship. Well, since the couple had been deemed unable to handle their own money, and since no one else volunteered to do it, Social Security decided to stop payments. So, one very cold day back in February, I got a call from a caseworker out in San Diego who used to work with this couple. She tells me that she got a call from them and things do not seem to be going well, and she'd like us to intervene. I sent two caseworkers out to the house to assess the situation. They had very little food, no medication, and shut off notices for both water and power (meaning no heat in February). Although they had some money in the bank, they had no access to it, and without their monthly social security checks, they had no income. For the last four months, an unbelievable number of hours have been poured in to meeting the needs of this couple just to make sure they had their basic needs met. The police are involved and are investigating and building a criminal case against the sister and brother-in-law. There was no saving the house. The value of the mortgage was well above the value of the house. Foreclosure was inevitable. As for the couple, all they wanted was to return to San Diego. Today they went to Newark Airport and flew back to San Diego. All the arrangements are in place for them to be taken care of on the other end. So happens that we are coming up on the end of the fiscal year. It is the magical time of year when money must be "spent-down" or it simply vanishes into thin air. So we bought plane tickets and luggage and so on and so on. By "we," I don't mean me! I take no credit for executing this. It was not my hard work. I took the original call and set things in motion, but since then I've been a spectator. I didn't even meet the couple until today when they were on their way to the airport. They each had their two suitcases packed with all the things that were most important to them. We will try to pack and ship the rest, but chances are the sister and brother-in-law will clean them out before arrangements can be made. The caseworker who helped them pack told me that they were very insistent upon finding room in the suitcase for their porn collection!  I hope San Diego treats them well. |
| I had a rather nice moment with the neighbor kids today. I couldn't be more shocked to be typing those words. These are the children I've been referring to as "the spawn of Satan." The children who created a fireball using their Grandma's hibachi. Tonight I noticed them hanging by the creek which isn't really a creek at all. Creek is too glorious a term for what is really a drainage ditch. The ditch was slated for some improvements by the water authority, but after digging out a few yards from the roadway, operations screeched to a halt as folks up the line began contesting property rights. So, there is a substantial water hole dug out along the creek. I've been highly annoyed with the scuzzy-watered stagnant pool because it is a breeding ground for mosquitoes. When I noticed the kids playing along the creek, I assumed they were cooking up trouble. I walked over to them as non-threateningly as I could manage. "Whatch doin'?" I asked. "We're trying to catch a frog." "Really? I've been hearing the frogs, but I haven't seen them." I was instantly worried about what they might do to a frog if they caught one. "There are turtles in there too, and snakes even!" "I know about the snakes." "And lots of snails, and little crabs too." "Those must be crayfish," I said and peered down at the water. Somehow I had managed to overlook the thriving little microcosm it had become. "You want to see the frog?" they asked. How could I say no to that. They brought out a tiny little green frog. The boy opened his grubby, cupped hands to show me the frog and it leaped away. They scrambled to recapture it treating it with great care. They wanted to know my dog's name, and I introduced the children to Carter. He was overjoyed to make their acquaintance and they threw his ball tirelessly. I only had to tell them once that they mustn't tease the dog. When the two older brothers came over, it was the children who told them not to tease. The little girl told me that she liked my yard best because of all the flowers. I took her on a smelling tour of the garden. We smelled them all, Iris, Roses, Sweet Rocket, Pinks, and Heliotrope. She asked if she could pick some flowers, and of course I gave her permission to pick some. She asked each time before picking. She wanted to know the names of each flower she picked. Even her brothers wanted to smell and pick the flowers. There was only one instance of snatching a flower without asking. When I corrected the culprit, the other kids looked very disapproving of him. It is such a little thing, and I know that these children have been allowed to run wild and undisciplined. I've seen them defying their mother and Grandmother. They are quite legitimately brats. Still, they responded favorable to my rules, and they showed a very genuine appreciation for the critters in the creek, and the flowers in the garden, and so I think maybe they aren't so bad after all. Maybe. I haven't forgotten the fireball episode though.  |
| Once upon a time ago, I was out with a friend and her son. At the time, he was all of four years old. I did one of those incredibly slick moves in which I managed to slam my finger in the car door. Damn it hurt! So the little boy Aidan looks up at me with big brown eyes full of sympathy and tells me gravely "summbitch. My Mommy would say summbitch." No point to that story except that every now and then when things go bad I think "My Mommy would say summbitch." Fortunately I only muttered it a couple times today.  Long story short. Tony's home . . . at least for a few days, and the ceiling is down. And when Tony came to find me at 5:00 to tell me he was hungry, I asked him what he was gonna do about it. So, take-out it was! |
| It's a wonderful think when your kids get old enough to truly be helpful. Especially if they are still young enough to be willing. I guess my daughter was pretty motivated because all the work was centered on her room. We assembled her new dresser. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Then we assembled the bookcase. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I kind of lost her after the bookcase though because she was very interested in organizing all her books and crap. I made up her bed while she did that. She has way too many stuffed animals and pillows and crap on her bed, but it does make it comfy. Here she is relaxing on the bed. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** She's at the movies with friends tonight, so Zack and I went out to dinner. Remember the restaurant with the roving magician? I didn't! But there he was. Mr. Mysterio was working the restaurant. After a large strawberry margarita, he was even starting to look good there's really something about a man who can pull off a purple sports coat and, uh . . .blouse? Whatever the case, he entertained Zack and flirted with me. He's pretty quick with those hands, makes me wonder how he'd do with an Allen Wrench. Oh, and he made Zack a balloon poodle dog which popped in the car on our way home and took a good 5 years off my life.  |
| Tony called me last night from Toronto to tell me that the Air conditioning guys will be here at 7AM on Monday morning to start installing the ductwork. We are getting a heat pump. We'll have central heat and air! No more crappy, rusted baseboard heaters. But 7 AM? On Monday? Uh, Tony doesn't get back until Sunday, and the entire drop ceiling in the basement has to come down before the ductwork can go up, and guess who was gonna do that? Yep, they gave us a break on the installation price because Tony said he'd take out the ceiling. Yes, I'm sure I'm perfectly capable of doing this job, but their are mitigating factors involved. 1. It's a drop ceiling in the basement. That means there is space above it that I'd be exposing. 2. I have mice in my basement and mice are known to inhabit small enclosed spaces. If freed suddenly, they might even fall on me! 3. I'm freakin' terrified of all things rodent. Bring me your spiders, your bugs (except for earwigs which I hate), your reptilian masses yearning to be free, but keep the damn mice away. In my opinion, the most redeeming thing about snakes is that they eat mice. Ceiling aside, there's also the not so small matter of the truckload of recently delivered furniture that is currently occupying the garage where they'll need to be working. Yeah, furniture that I hadn't intended to do anything with until I painted the girls room. Shit! I knew the AC people were coming in early June, but I wasn't expecting 7 AM on Monday morning! Contractors are always running behind, dammit. So I'm in a panic. I'm trying to work it into something more productive like perhaps a frenzy. A frenzy would be good. Of course all of this is leaving me bitchy and grumbling about the good for nothing man who left me hanging with all of this. But, since bitching isn't going to get anything done, I'm signing off. I'll return when either my good humor is restored or I drop from exhaustion.  |
| A while back, my friends and I went to a bar to listen to a band. One of the guys from work is the guitarist in the band, so a lot of people from the office showed up. The bar was right on the lake. I think the back end of the place was up on pilings and the lake was lapping the shore below. It was a great setting, and that was the only positive thing I could say about the place. It was the sort of place where they look at ya funny if you ask for a glass. The sort of place with a lot of regulars, and the regulars were all locals. Not the I-moved-here-10-years-ago-from-New Jersey locals. Nah, these folks were the real deal. They were the I-was-conceived-right-there-on-the-storeroom-floor type locals. Around here, these folks are what we call Cunnerman. Cunnerman is a corruption of the common local surname Counterman. The Poconos have Countermans like Hyannis Port has Kennedys. Cunnerman is a term that is synonymous with Rednecks, Hicks, Bubbas, Bumpkins, or whatever the hell you call these folks in your part of the world. So, there we are having drinks and listening to the band. I'll never blend with this crowd, but then I don't blend with the New York crowd either. My strategy has always been to avoid pissing people off. Unfortunately, two of the women I was with were New Yorkers, and they are all about pissing people off. The low profile thing was going right out the window. The bar was packed, and getting stuffy, and after much complaining by the NY contingent, the waitress suggested we open the windows and enjoy the nice breeze off the lake. Opening the windows helped, and the breeze was very nice. We were all drawn to the window then, sucking in the lake breeze before it acquired the tang of ashtray and stale beer. At some point Denise set her purse on the window sill. When she reached for it again, she bumped it forward. Only then did she notice that the screen was just hanging loose in the window frame like a curtain. It wasn't attached along the sides or the bottom at all. Her purse fell out the window, and right into the lake. Her car keys, her money, her cell phone . . . everything was in the purse. Denise, with her thick Queens accent starts ranting about crappy bars where you can't get a glass and where they don't have real screens in the window. I thought the crowd was gonna turn ugly (uglier anyway), but they all seemed to be enjoying themselves a little too much. Since I was drunk, I did a lot of laughing while thinking up ways to retrieve the purse, most of which required a basic knowledge of fly fishing. The waitress finally got to feeling obliged to help when she realized her tip money was somewhere at the bottom of the lake. In the end, it was my own heroic hubby who used a flashlight and a fishing net procured by the waitress to rescue the purse. Turns out that Karma's a real bitch though. That Monday, Denise dropped her car keys while getting out of her car. She'd parked by the storm drain and her keys fell right in. |
| So last night the kids and I were playing games on the new Wii. I love the bowling game, but something seemed to be wrong with my wii remote. No matter how hard I swung my arm, the ball rolled very slowly toward the pins. And this was seriously annoying because I couldn't get sufficient pin action for a strike. . "Here, let me try it," my daughter offered. "It isn't the way I'm doing it!" I insisted. "I'm doing it right, it's just not working." "Let me just try," she said and I reluctantly handed over the remote. It didn't work right for her either.  It got me thinking though. This happens all the time. If something doesn't work, there is always someone saying "let me try it;" or, if it can't be found, "let me look." Although it sounds like the person is trying to be helpful, what they are really saying is "move your incompetent ass out of the way, and let me show ya how it's done." In other news, I am waiting for a phone call about furniture delivery. This might not go all that smoothly though. <cue mission impossible theme music> I am now 46 minutes into the 4 hour window I was given by the delivery company. I am supposed to get a phone call when the driver is 30 minutes away. My window doesn't close until 5. I have to pick my daughter up at the school at 4:15. I also have to get my son off the bus at 4:00. My bet is that I will get a call at approximately 3:40 telling me they'll be here in a half hour or so. Wish me luck. <stop music> And for those of you who commented on how much you love to text, good for you! Sadly, if I start texting, it probably won't be for the purpose of communicating important information. No, It'd be like instant messaging and I'd mostly use it for snarky, running commentary. My daughter is a texting fiend. I have no idea what all the back and forth is about, but I suspect a lot of snarky running commentary. She can text with her left hand while playing a video game with her wii remote in the right. It scares the crap out of me. Assuming that we are still evolving, it has to make you pause and wonder what we're going to be evolving into. I think maybe our fingers will grow eyes and tiny little fingers of their own. Katie's seventh grade class trip is today, hence the need to pick her up at the school. They are at an amusement park. I was teasing her this morning that she'll probably be texting while on the rollercoasters. "Omg! omg! big hill! at top. Ahhhhhh!" I hope the phone survives the day! |
| Hey folks, I was going to skip the blogging today, but I know some of you are worrying about me, and I didn't want to increase the level of concern by dropping off the map. I'm in pretty good spirits today. Seriously! I'm not bitter at all. Went out to lunch with a couple of my friends . . . vented . . . commiserated . . . plotted ways to kill Tony while having it appear to be the result of a freak accident. We watch a lot of CSI and Law and Order, so we've got down the basics of what not to do. 1. Don't take out a large insurance policy just prior to the "accident." Yeah, we all saw Double Indemnity. It's a great plan, but the cops have nothing on the insurance investigators. They are hard core. 2. Don't transfer large sums of money into off-shore accounts. Duh! 3. Don't fight in public. It establishes motive. 4. Don't take a lover until after the deed is done. 5. Don't leave a mess of emails and blogs that talk, no matter how ambiguously, about arrangement for "the accident," or about rearranging the living room once he's been "taken care of." DAMN! So far I've broken 3 & 5! I might have to scrap this idea. In the midst of "the fight," Tony said that I should tell him what my expectations of him are because he doesn't know anymore. Hmmm . . . I thought I'd been pretty straight forward.  So, I decided to give some thought to the expectations I have for a husband. If this marriage thing does go down the crapper, then at least I've got a jumping off point for throwing together a personal ad. 1. I expect the man to hold a job. I work. I also fantasize about handing in my resignation. I expect the man to work too. I don't expect you to love the job, but I do expect you to hang in there until you have another job lined up. It's called being a grown up. 2. I expect the man to be a parent and a partner. The partner thing is really important. Don't whine to me that you have to "ask permission" to go leave for days at a time when I haven't been able to go to a grocery store for the last thirteen years without making some kind of arrangements to ensure everyone's needs will be met in my absence. 3. I expect the man to mow the lawn and take care of getting the cars serviced. In return, I will wash and fold the laundry. Getting dirty laundry into the hamper, and clean laundry into the drawers is NOT part of my laundry duties. 4. I expect parity in the kitchen. Clean up after your own damn self, and I will do the same. Don't park you're ass in front of the TV and expect me to do all the clean-up just because you cooked. We all know you make a bigger mess cooking than I do! 5. I expect the man to be honest. Omissions are still lies. Enough said! Well, it's a start anyway. And . . . and . . . I'm not bitter! Oh yeah, in other random news, I sent my first text message today! Woohoo! Unfortunately, I couldn't figure out how to put spaces between the words. Soitlookedlikethis. I had to run to Walmart this evening. It was pouring rain when I got there and my jacket was in the trunk of the car. I popped the trunk open and quickly put the jacket on in the rain. Big, cold plopping rain drops. Anyway, when I got out of the store, I didn't have any trouble finding my car. It was the one with the trunk open. |
| First, some theme music. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5vXTpxUHdlM Just trying to keep a sense of humor. Yesterday I took the kids out to lunch, and then we went over to my mother's house for dinner. She had a new fire pit built in her backyard, and after dinner we went down and christened it with fire. The kids roasted marshmallows for s'mores. Okay, we ALL roasted marshmallows for s'mores.  ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Here are Zack, Katie, and my brother Russ toasting marshmallows. The fire pit was not quite as rustic as what I'd envisioned when she first mentioned the idea. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** In which Zack blows out a flaming marshmallow. He thought it was great fun to set the marshmallows on fire, but wouldn't eat the burnt ones. The evening was cool and it felt nice to sit around the fire out in the dark woods. It was smoky enough that the bugs left us alone. I love to watch a fire burn, and it pulled me out of my head and into the moment. Mesmerizing. Today I took Katie and her friend to see Narnia. Katie says it officially the most boring movie she's ever watched. Apparently the only reason they saw it was because her friend has to write a book report and hasn't read the book. Did you ever do that? I did it once. It was The Scarlet Letter. I just couldn't read the book. Oh wait! I did it twice. I had problems with Great Expectations as well. Thanks to everyone for your comments in yesterday's blog. I appreciate all the words of support and offers of drink.  |
| I drove Tony to the airport this morning. When we got in there we sat in the car poking each other with sharp pointy sticks trying to inflict as much damage as possible. Fortunately I got to keep both of the pointy sticks because he couldn't get his through airport security. Unfortunately, it's jammed pretty far into my back. He said I was scaring the hell out of him. Thought I was going to tell him I don't love anymore. If only it were that simple. I probably should have started being a lot scarier a lot sooner. Still, I said many of the things I've been needing to say, and heard a lot of stuff I never wanted to hear. It was easier to do knowing I don't have to see him or deal with him for a week. I was proud of myself for not calling airport security with an anonymous tip that might cause him to be subjected to unpleasant scrutiny. In reality though, I just came up with the idea too late.  He's definitely going to North Carolina next week after he gets back from Toronto. He'd set everything in motion before he ever brought it up to me. It was never negotiable. Also, it turns out that he doesn't actually want to be a psychologist anymore. He wants to be a Martial Arts instructor. This is not my best day ever. Anyone got any tequila? |
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