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Archive for September, 2009

Finding the heart of a home…

Wednesday, September 30th, 2009

heart of home There is a lovely contest sponsored by Samsung right now where bloggers can post about where the heart of their home is. Then they are to encourage comments on their post to win a new washer and dryer. Well, I’m good right now in the washer and dryer department. And since I already won a laptop this month, trying for appliances I didn’t really need just seemed greedy.

At the same time, I loved the topic. It made me think. A lot. And I wondered how I would respond to the question. See, I’m in a wonderful position right now. We’re fitting together really well, all of us.

S compliments me regularly on the way I make his friends and family feel welcome. He truly appreciates my efforts. I make big meals. I bake cookies and other desserts…when I have an oven. I keep the place clean, despite the kids and puppy-cow’s best efforts. All of that goes a long way to making people feel good about being someplace.

So, I tried to break it down to just one room, one spot that screamed ‘heart of the home.’ See, S and I have been remodeling the place one room, one project at a time. We’ve turned a house into a home. And he loves that it feels so warm and inviting. (We’re not done yet!)

Which leaves me to wonder…could the heart of the home be the study where we work on our computers at the end of the day, he invoices while I write? We’re surrounded by my beloved books and our treasured memories. We have our pictures and souvenirs from trips, my beach debris. It’s so cozy and soothing in there. Last night, while I wrote, S laid on Bishop on the floor next to me, watching me and visiting. It was damn near perfect.

Or maybe it’s in the kitchen where we cook our big Sunday morning breakfasts together. S will man one frying pan cooking sausage and egg pancake while I man the other to cook bacon and then French toast. The kids pop in occasionally, only to be shooed out when their little not so stealthy selves try to snag some food. There’s much laughter and joking and food. Is that what has it in contention for heart of the home?

Or what about our screen porch which houses the hot tub? Never was a room decorated with more love. We have the fountain we built last summer which now houses our koi. We had planned a naming ceremony for the fish, but we tend to only name them pre-burial at sea. (Hence our two fancy tailed goldfish: Belly-up and Floater.) And I love the candle I made from collected stones and sea glass that sits on one of the end tables we received from his sister. We have so many happy memories in that room. It’s the room where he told me he had waited his entire life for me. It’s the room he asked me out in. It’s the room where just last night he told me I was the best thing that ever happened to him. It’s the place where he holds me and sings with me and unwinds with me at the end of a long day. Ahhh.

Or could it be that the great room with its floor to ceiling stone fireplace and cathedral ceilings, the place where everyone gathers to watch television and eat and share their day has become the heart of our home? We do spend a great deal of quality time there. We gather around the coffee table to eat most of our meals. We play with Bishop in that room. We entertain our friends and neighbors there, most of the time. And that is where we hunker down, turn out all the lights, and snuggle in for family movie night with lots of snacks. Keenan makes a mean garlic popcorn. And Rachel can turn a trough into a sundae lickety split. No wonder that room is in contention.

And then I remember the man cave, the former garage that we painted with entertaining in mind. It was decorated to resemble one of S’s favorite old hang outs: Midtown Sundries. The ceiling is black, the walls a deep sage green and chocolate. There’s a Panther pool table that we spent the better part of a Sunday last fall choosing. And there’s the spare fridge and a few couches. We have our favorite wall out there, the wall that we record everything on. We have our garage monkey’s rules. (PS. Our garage monkey moved out Labor Day, but he still visits.) And we measure the kids’ growth, and now Bishop’s. This is the popular late night hang out. We don’t advertise, merely put up the garage door and turn on the lights over the pool table. Suddenly neighbors come in droves. The stereo adds a delightful bit of authenticity to the atmosphere.

All of this podering, reflecting on my life has me more confused than ever. Maybe there is no one place that is the heart of the home. Maybe the heart is where we are at the moment, for where we are there is love. Maybe that’s the true secret to a happy home: loving who you are with where you are every moment you can. Maybe the heart of the home isn’t so much about a place as a feeling. And I feel blessed to have these incredible kids and such an incredible man in my life. I’m blessed to share what I have with great neighbors and great friends. So as far as I’m concerned, more than the color palette on the walls, the covering on the floor, the decor style, it’s the warmth emanating from within that makes the heart of a home.

Posted in Reflections | 4 Comments »

Next time, I’m taking valium first…

Tuesday, September 29th, 2009

injections So, I knew to an extent what I was in for. I mean, Rachel has never been particularly fond of physicians. And with age and the growing testing, her opinion on that subject has not exactly improved. Worse, ever since the photography incident of ‘99, she has grown ever increasingly power hungry.

See, Rachel, who loves to make this horrible smile when she’s faking it, a folding back her lips over her teeth kind of smile, convinced the photographer that I was making her nervous and had me removed from the room. Yup. That was Rachel at age five. And, it hasn’t much improved.

Now imagine us today. Ten years later. She’s fifteen. And she’s really good at it. Before leaving the house she’s swearing she refuses to have any shots. And I’m swearing that if she needs them, she’ll take them.

I did everything I could think of to joke with her and break the ice.

me: Now if you’re a good girl, after the doctor, I’ll give you a Tic Tac.

Well, we arrive and the attitude starts IMMEDIATELY. She refuses to let me sit near her. I tend to pick my battles, so I sat…as close as I dared…a few seats over.

me: (upon seeing a teenage boy enter with his father) I bet they sit together.

Rachel: Well, if they do, it’s because his father is way cooler than you.

me: Naturally.

And then I spot this young child who is there for an appointment. She seems to be doing well. She’s sitting with her mother and playing around and everything. For a moment, I pondered having her talk to Rachel, with the old ‘look how young she is and she’s not scared’ routine. Then, I realized that given Rachel’s powers of persuasion, that could go horribly wrong and soon we’d have two scared kids.

Finally it was our turn. And Rachel is actually crying as we enter the hall. She doesn’t want to stand on the scale.

me: Yeah. Take off the Berks. We wouldn’t want the extra weight.

Rachel: Thanks for the chicken, mom.

me: You’re welcome.

Then it’s on to the height.

me: Keep those Berks off. We want an accurate height.

(She’s still five inches taller than me.)

me: Huh. You’d think that it would take a bigger body to contain all that ‘tude.

Rachel just growled. By now she was having her temperature taken.

Nurse: She’s normal.

Rachel and I stare at each other.

me: Hah! That’s what you think.

That’s about where we peaked. Soon, she was trying to get me kicked out of the room while she talked to the doctor. Oh, my power hungry teen. And then the doctor told me I could go back in.

me: Do I have to?

The shot was next. It was the gardisil. I know it isn’t mandatory, but if I could have taken a shot to prevent a horrible disease like cervical cancer, I would have taken it. Alas, the cut off is age twenty-five. I just missed it.

And this was where I was ready to KILL her. She wouldn’t sit still. I’ve heard of dry heaves, but I was witnessing dry sobs. She was shaking and shuddering and pulling away. (And we have to go back in November and March to get the follow up shots in the series. Can’t wait.)

Nurse: I’m going to have to call enforcement to hold her down.

me: Seriously? Rachel you’re fifteen!

Finally, the camouflage bandaid won her over and the shot was completed, but I was spent. And now we had to get her eyes checked, and train her to poke contacts into her eyes. I didn’t know if I had it in me.

Well, the eye doctor went better than I expected. Her humor had returned. She was psyched for the contacts.

But the bottom line…before I take Rachel to get another shot…somebody better slip me a Valium.

Posted in Parenting | 10 Comments »

Some different kind of goals…

Monday, September 28th, 2009

soccer goal I know that I have shied away from my typical Monday morning goal assessment lately. And it’s certainly easy enough to understand why. There have been so many changes lately, so many other things going on that I haven’t been able to take some of my goals as seriously, and other goals have cropped up that take the focus away from where it should be…improving me.

So…yeah, other than the fact that I walk my fat happy ass down the road every weekday morning rain or shine (make that rain or dark), I haven’t stepped on a scale in weeks. Don’t get me wrong, I have my suspicions. And I doubt that what I’ve been eating has helped me in the weight loss department. Oh, but the pizza, chicken wings, and Chinese food have tasted oh so good. And, as always, I have an excuse. Ready. It’s a good one. I still don’t have an oven and my grill ran out of propane. Don’t worry. S is on the propane. He has promised to get me a new tank…maybe even today! And as soon as the squatters leave, we are taking my stove so I can cook again.

I’m really looking forward to the cooking. I’ve promised lots of good food, like homemade mac and cheese and lasagna and cookies. (I bake chocolate chip cookies from scratch. It’s a dying art form.) I know, lots of diet meals mentioned there, right?

Anyway…as for my other goals…

The kids still love me. I still love and like them. It works out very nicely.
Bishop is still mostly potty trained with the occasional accident that stems from me not watching him EVERY second. He will just wander off and take a poo in Rachel’s room if we’re not watching. I don’t know why it’s always her room. And we probably shouldn’t tell her. Shhhh. (I mean it’s not like she reads the blog every day, right? )
S and I still have our ups and downs. He still has his freak outs. And I still talk him off the ledge. We had a lovely weekend, for the most part. (Bivens, be warned. I’m going to be speaking to you about these emergency calls, what constitutes and emergency call, and the standard operating procedure for payment and completion of said calls. Be ready!)
Now, my happy place, the blog. I had hoped to have 750 uniques for this month. So far, I have 713 with a few days to go. I’m so close! And I’m working on finding a blogging job that will increase/supplement my income. So, I’ve started applying to various ads. With any luck, I’m getting closer and closer to what I really want to do and the kind of career/life I really want to have. Wish me luck!

So, here’s my regular plea…share me, please! I’m going to make you proud, I promise. I’ll be clever, and witty, and at times…sarcastic. (Probably a lot of the time. It can’t be helped.)

In other news…

Today is Happy Divorce Day to me. Sunday is the party. Yes, there will be cake, which means that Monday there will be another diet excuse and cake pictures. So much to look forward to!

And Friday…well, Friday is Happy Squatter Eviction Day. The sheriff will be calling me between 9 and 4pm to come with my lock. My phone tree is getting bigger and bigger. My neighbors are hoping it’s later in the day so that they can all justify being home and starting the weekend early. Oh, they’re a crazy bunch. So, you can expect on final squatter-gate update…unless they have to move the rest of their stuff out within the following ten days. In that case, there may be a second squatter story. But, the end is in sight. And it’s a big end, sort of like my rear end.

Speaking of…time to hike down the road. Have a lovely day. I’ll be thinking of ways to entertain you while I walk.

Posted in Goals | 5 Comments »

It’s Complicated…

Monday, September 28th, 2009

stardust It seems there are constantly statistics about divorce. And maybe because I’m about to be that statistic, the cause for the growing percentage of failed marriages, that I’m struggling to understand it. A big part of it, simply put, stems from the fact that love is such a crap shoot.

I mean…first you develop feelings for someone, right? And then you have to hope that they reciprocate those feelings. If not…UNREQUITED love. And that love just blows, leave you feeling empty, since you give and give but you never get replenished, nothing is coming back at you. Or it could happen the other way, where you’re the object of the unrequited love and you begin to feel like you’re being stalked. That’s uncomfortable.

I think Claire Danes said it best in Stardust:

You know when I said I knew little about love? That wasn’t true. I know a lot about love. I’ve seen it, centuries and centuries of it, and it was the only thing that made watching your world bearable. All those wars. Pain, lies, hate… It made me want to turn away and never look down again. But when I see the way that mankind loves… You could search to the furthest reaches of the universe and never find anything more beautiful. So yes, I know that love is unconditional. But I also know that it can be unpredictable, unexpected, uncontrollable, unbearable and strangely easy to mistake for loathing, and… What I’m trying to say, Tristan is… I think I love you. Is this love, Tristan? I never imagined I’d know it for myself. My heart… It feels like my chest can barely contain it. Like it’s trying to escape because it doesn’t belong to me any more. It belongs to you. And if you wanted it, I’d wish for nothing in exchange – no gifts. No goods. No demonstrations of devotion. Nothing but knowing you loved me too. Just your heart, in exchange for mine.

Or maybe that’s just my romantically idealized vision of it. I just know how I feel about S. And I know what I’ve learned through the years. You can’t make someone love you. And when someone thinks they love you, you can’t even make them love you the way you want to be loved. And worse, sometimes, when they claim they love you and it doesn’t feel like love, maybe they are loving you the best they can.

And then there are those who simply don’t recognize love, those who fear it, fear the word, fear all that it encompasses, fear what it means. Maybe it will mean a loss of freedom, a loss of self. Sometimes they don’t recognize all that they have to gain and therefor risk losing by not giving the love they hold onto.

So, now, as I celebrate Happy Divorce Day for me, I look back at the loves I’ve had and lost. I look at the love in my future. And I have to say, my future is looking pretty bright. Despite all the obstacles we have to overcome in our relationship, we have some fundamental building blocks that create a solid strong foundation.

No matter what, we want to be together. We have a deep mutual respect. We have trust. We are honest, even when it hurts. We communicate constantly. And the longer we’re together, the more history we create, the stronger our bond becomes. We’re off to a good start. This is just the beginning.

Posted in Reflections | No Comments »

The art of compromise…

Sunday, September 27th, 2009

tug of war Life is all about compromise. And learning how to truly compromise can determine the success, happiness, and general quality of life. What we have on our side during the struggle to find the balance is time and a learning curve. If you’re like me, you tend to not so much repeat the same mistake, but find so many new mistakes to make that it seems that you’re not making progress whatsoever.

Lately, my life has been all about compromise. See, adapting to life with S is a huge compromise on everyone’s part. He’s used to alone time, which is a rare commodity since he now has three extra people living in his house. And he claims he’s used to a more exciting life, getting to go lots of places and do lots of things. Well, in the year we dated before living together, I saw very little of this wild and crazy life he claims to have had. There were a few nights that he went out and partied, and I know that he misses that some, but at the same time there are aspects of that life that he’s starting to pick up on.

After a while the crowd of people his age going out partying every weekend thins. The only ones left are the complete slackers who have nothing going on in their life. He has a much bigger life than that. (And not just because he has me.) After a while, he will come to realize that it’s not as fun as he remembers it being. (He has already commented that I keep him grounded and out of a lot of the BS.) And after a while, he should start to realize a new life, a couple life, a family life.

He’s told me that he gives me more than he has any other girlfriend. Apparently none of the previous girls hung around his family or friends. They were a separate part of his life. Shocking that none of those relationships panned out. And I don’t know whether I get more because I deserve it, or because I demand it. I have expectations that should met, standards for relationships that I have set. So far, so good.

And don’t get me wrong. I’m compromising, too. I’m cooking differently and at different times. I’m cleaning a lot more. ( My mother would be so proud.) I’m working harder to get ahead than I ever have. And I’m more dedicated to losing weight than ever before. It’s different when I have someone holding me to my goals, forcing me to follow through. I’d never want to disappoint him. And because he doesn’t want to disappoint me, we work.

Now we’re working on a bigger compromise. We’re raising a dog together. Bishop is a bundle of energy, completely untrained. He went from living in a whelping box to living in a house with lots of people and pets. (The kitty-cows are eyeing him suspiciously, but not with complete disdain.) We’re finding our roles in the puppy rearing. We’re working together to tame this puppy-cow, train him in every respect.

Last night was torture. S sleeps very soundly. And though he has the best of intentions, the night potty runs were all on me. There was a lot of crying and whimpering. Bishop was unhappy, too. I almost gave in and let him sleep with us just so I could close my eyes for more than ten minutes. Instead, S did the daddy thing while asleep.

S: (using his daddy voice) Bishop! Go to sleep. Be a good puppy.

And that dog, that whimpering, pacing, puppy-cow finally laid right down and went to sleep.

me:(mumbled and feeling completely defeated) Thanks.

We’re a team. And I love it. S knows it.

S: You really like having me to support you don’t you?

me: Yes. Does it make me look weak?

S: No. I just think you haven’t had that before.

me: Sometimes it’s just nice that everything isn’t all on me.

S: Sometimes I wish you’d let me do more.

Huh. That I’m really not used to. Instead of me doing all the giving and him doing all the taking, I give and he gives right back. That’s the best compromise of all.

Posted in relationships | No Comments »

Not again!

Saturday, September 26th, 2009

ant hill Yup. Friday I peaked too soon. Bishop didn’t have any accidents. (Nor did he climb in the shower with me again! Big bonus!) And even though it wasn’t a pay week, I was in a good place at work…catching up, and a light patient load.

I was feeling pretty good about the way I was fulfilling my mommy duties. Rachel has two doctor’s appointments on Monday, a teacher work day, so she’s not missing school and I’m only missing a minimal amount of work.

In the girlfriend department, I was rocking, too. See, I had come home during lunch to walk Bishop and I managed to catch up some laundry. (Come on, I should get a standing O for my multi-tasking abilities alone!)

There was only one dark cloud looming over head, threatening to burst at any given moment. Freakin’ ex-husband. Yeah, he rained all over my day. After not seeing the kids since Labor Day, he had sent me a text message last night that told me…not asked…told me to drop off the kids. (Meaning he was working all night.)

Well, I had mixed feelings about that. On the one hand, it’s nice sometimes to have a quiet night alone and we haven’t had a quiet night alone in three weeks. In fact, we have been inundated with company and drama. And given that we are currently sitting around my phone waiting for it to ring like an expectant father, the drama and tension continue.

Oh, and about that other hand…we like the kids and enjoy having them around. Friday nights in The Bubble are particularly enjoyable. There are impromptu cookouts and unplanned fireworks and bonfires with s’mores and kids riding motorized…things. Good times. So, maybe I didn’t want to waste my gas and drive them half an hour away where they were going to sit home unsupervised and alone until the wee hours of the night/morning. Maybe I would just let their sperm donor father come pick them up in the morning.

Well, Fun Dad called.

FD: Why is Rachel seeing Dr. Jones and not Dr. Rachima?

me: Because she’s a fifteen year old girl. Next question.

That shut him up. For a minute.

FD: Are you dropping the kids off?

me: I hadn’t planned on it.

FD: (erupting) Blah blah blah stay up late. Blah blah blah movies. Blah blah be at your house at 6am!

And that’s when I started wishing Bishop was full grown. And that’s when I knew the first command I was going to teach him would be something to the effect of ’sic balls!’ (Sorry, Mom!) And that’s when I wished that the government would reconsider their stance on murder being a capital offense. I’m pretty sure that I could get off on temporary insanity right now. Grrr. Don’t worry. I’m not going to take any chances. And I certainly wouldn’t want to deprive my children of having such a great role model in their lives…

So, I hung up after caving and deciding to drop the kids off. And though I was still fuming, I managed to get some more work done. Until he called back. (I may need to get my number changed.)

FD: Did you know that Rachel got ISS suspended?

(Yes, he is that big a tard. He didn’t even understand what he was talking about?)

me: She told me about it last night…

FD: Well, she got in trouble today. Blah phone. Blah rules.

And I hung up as fast as possible because I still needed to call the school and verify what was actually going on. See, the facts were these:

The school has rules against cell phones in school. They cannot be seen or heard.
I have rules against cell phones in school. They shouldn’t leave the house during school hours.
Rachel broke two rules. She brought the phone to school. And she left the phone on so that it was heard. (Dead girl walking!)

Well, I called the school, pissed because this was the second call J had received before me and he isn’t even close to raising the kids. He doesn’t go to open houses or parent conferences or meetings of any kind. He hasn’t brought the kids to the doctor in ages. And he doesn’t miss work when they’re sick. So, I should be the top contact. Makes sense, right? And since S lives with them, I have him down as the second contact. And J, since I have no choice, is the third contact. (Although, I have to admit, there is a very responsible looking vagrant living under the overpass in a really nice cardboard box that might work out just as well. I’m sure he’d pay me at least as much child support as their actual father.)

Someone in authority finally answered at the school office late on a Friday afternoon. And the consensus was that I needed to bring in appropriate documentation to prove I am the custodial parent. No problem. Then the issue would be remedied. We shall see. They haven’t had our mailing address right in YEARS and I keep correcting them. Of course, the same is true of the doctor’s office. Rest assured, I will be dealing with them Monday afternoon.

Okay. I need one good thing to happen today. I hope the jewelry wasn’t it. Don’t get me wrong. It was a nice gesture. I mean when a man you’ve never met before gives you handmade glass jewelry… (And it’s nice!) That could, technically, qualify as my one good thing. I just need my one good thing to be bigger to balance out all the crappy little things.

Oh, and to add insult to injury, when I went to medicate at the vending machine…it all but screamed ‘fatty’ at me. How else can you explain that it refused to accept the nickel that would’ve let me get that 3 Musketeers bar? And then it wouldn’t give me back my dollar, so I had to buy something for a dollar. *gulp* I bought Cheddar Kettle Chips. And they could never be confused with chocolate fluffy goodness covered in a milk chocolate shell. *sniffle sniffle*

Oh, day of disappointments, will you never end?

Posted in Just Venting | 3 Comments »

Ten Truths

Friday, September 25th, 2009

truth I actually found this idea on Martini Mom. It’s supposed to be Ten Honest Things, but with my love of alliteration, I had to alter it. And then there’s the other part…I wasn’t officially tagged. I’m just smart enough to know that I can’t afford to wait for someone to discover my “bloggy brilliance.”

Here they are anyway.

I have a tattoo. Yeah, it was something of an impulse buy. One of my then very good friends and I decided to get the same one together before she left for college. Mine is on my hip, unless you ask my mother…in which case, it’s on my @$$. (I offered to pull out an anatomy and physiology text to prove my point. Instead, we made a scene at Dairy Queen that would rival any E.F. Hutton commercial because I could afford to get a tattoo, but I couldn’t buy my mother nuts for her sundae.) Fun times!
I have never broken a bone. I’ve come close. (Meaning, I thought I did once.) My mother was coming to visit and in an effort to have the place spotless before her arrival, I was doing extra cleaning after work each night until I was worn out. I fell asleep sitting up on the couch with my legs crossed, woke up at midnight after realizing I had forgotten to take the dog out, frantic at the thought of having to fit in a carpet cleaning, I bounded off the couch and rolled my ankle. (My foot had fallen asleep while I was.) So, I learned to work some crutches and limp and hop and ask for help. Good lesson.
I’m currently living in sin. And unless S changes his stance on the whole marriage thing, I will be living in sin indefinitely. I think about it. I wonder if it’s something that sets the wrong kind of example for the kids. And I wonder if it’s that big a deal for me, as in isn’t it more important that we’re happy and treat each other right than that we are legally bound to one another. If there’s anything I’ve noticed, it’s extremely easy to get married, it’s extremely challenging to make a marriage work, and damn near impossible to get divorced. It’s not just the legal separation, it’s the whole separating of the lives, the stuff, everything that entails.
I struggle to overcome my fears. I have issues with heights, so I try to face them in various situations. I’m getting better on a ladder. And I went para-sailing with S. As for my spider situation…I couldn’t even watch Arachnophobia, but I find myself killing spiders without screaming for S or shrieking in panic. I’m so big.
I have been the other woman. I’m not sure if it counts if I didn’t do it on purpose. He said they were separated. And once I found out they weren’t, I broke it off. So, decide whether I deserve a stoning. I beat myself up plenty.
I have had a near death experience. When Rachel was two and a half, I had to have surgery. In the week before it was scheduled, I came down with this horrible case of bronchitis. During the pre-surgery work-up, the anesthesiologist told me that if it were twenty years ago, they would have re-scheduled the surgery. (At this point, I expect him to tell me they’re proceeding because of all the advancements in medical technology…) Now, however, with all the scheduling difficulties, they decided to proceed. Well, I barely woke up from that procedure. Nothing inspires confidence like hearing the doctor say, “Whew. There she is.”
I lost a baby at 27 weeks. It still haunts me. And because it is such a long story and something of a cautionary tale, I think I need to save this for a post all its own. Just know that she would have been a year older than Rachel and probably even more fragile than Keenan, if she had survived. So, though it is a painful loss, I’m sure it worked out as it was intended.
I want a chance to do it right. All of it. (And I know this truth scares my mother more than anything. And I’m nost so sure that S is ready to hear this…) I want to get married and have a baby with someone who will be there for me and support me. I don’t know if any of that will ever happen. And for now, I’m good with where I am.
I let my relationship dictate my mood. It’s been that way my entire life. As long as all is well between me and the man I’m with, I can handle/weather anything life throws at me. If we are in a lousy place, it takes up far too much of my focus. Call it a character flaw.
I’m the worst dieter…ever. I like food. I love food. I love the tastes and presentation and textures. I love the intriguing combination. In fact, I love everything but the end results…the day later with the scales…or the months later after waking up from the food coma. Worse, I tend to be something of an emotional eater, and I also tend to be emotional. And I suppose until my relationship with food changes, my weight will always be an issue. Acknowledging the problem is the first step. (Now I just have to move on to step two…)

So, consider yourself tagged if you read this. And if you’re Meredith…consider yourself REALLY tagged. Leave me your ten truths. Or, if you use it as a post on your site, link it so that I can read it…and not feel so bad. (It’s actually refreshing getting much of this off my chest.) Can’t wait to read them…

PS. Meredith, you’re going to have to teach me how to link to you, girl. I’d love for people to be able to click through like they can from your blog, my bubble-worthy buddy.

Posted in Reflections | 1 Comment »

After all the build up…

Friday, September 25th, 2009

deflated balloons I have this feeling that the end of my squatter tales is going to be something of a let down. See, I have no idea when the sheriff is going to make that magic call, the call that means I have to drop what I’m doing and high tail it back to my house with a lock. And things are happening, changing every day.

In addition to the police coming to speak to Laura on Tuesday night, I heard this morning that they came last night. Apparently, one of my neighbors was setting off fireworks and disturbing the squatters…accidentally on purpose, of course. In the end, the squatters, who are quick to call for police back up, called for police back up. No one was hauled off. And no one was scared off. Grrr.

And even though they aren’t scared off, you’d think they might be able to be inconvenienced out. Last night, their water was turned off. I had nothing to do with it, I swear. The utility company shut them off for non-payment. (I’m sure you’re shocked to know they haven’t been paying their bills.) And since there is a lock on the water meter, there’s no way for them to hijack some water.

Initially, I was excited and convinced that since water is as necessary to life as say…air, that this might cause them to depart. Nope. Instead, they have actually had extra people around. Now, you know how I think. I’m wondering how they are doing simple things like…peeing. And I’m not sure I want to know. They may really be wrecking the joint. God help me!

So, my one hope is that the sheriff calls soon. When he does, I have been instructed to start The Bubble phone tree. Yes, in my neighborhood, tell one person something and everyone knows in record time. Apparently they are planning a party. There will be alcohol, but I doubt there will be cake. I’m a little disappointed. Okay. I’m a lot disappointed. If I’m changing a lock while the neighborhood and police watch, I need to know that I will be appropriately rewarded.

And if I get two hopes, I hope that the house is in decent condition so that I can get it ready for sale without having to lay out any more money that I don’t have.

And since I’m dreaming big, with three hopes, I want the house to sell quickly and painlessly the day after the squatters are evicted and forced to leave behind all their possessions and that one of the possessions they leave behind is a ginormous suitcase filled with money they forgot they had. Ahhh, to dream.

But really, Sheriff, call me!

Posted in Reflections | 2 Comments »

My terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day was…priceless

Thursday, September 24th, 2009

alexander As my day continued, yesterday. I was struck by how terrible it was. And I got a little nit-picky, noticing every little dark spot in my day. Suddenly, I decided to work with it. One of my all time favorite children’s books that I used to read to the children was Judith Viorst’s Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. If you’ve never read it, find a small child (or an indulgent boyfriend who will let you sit on his lap while you read it to him) and enjoy! Here’s my adult version.

It looked like it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. It looked that way because I woke up late and while I was trying to post Bishop pooed in Rachel’s room.

That’s right, it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day because when I called for the sheriff to evict the squatters I found out there was no way to avoid missing more work and having to go to the court house…again. And then when I got there, I found out the court house didn’t open until 9am and it was only 8am. It was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

It was a bad day because as I left the parking garage the sky opened up on me. Since I had no cash and that’s all they accepted in the court house I had to get money out of the ATM in the pouring rain. And then, even though I had already taken a shower, it looked as though I had taken a second one. And there was rain dripping down my scrubs and rain running through my hair and some got in my eye. It was a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day.

Then I stood in a long line while only one of the four people working the judgment windows was actually working the judgment window, the rest were messing around with their computers. And the guy in front of me wanted to go on and on about how the man he was working with wasn’t like the man he normally worked with and while the man he worked with tried to convince him that he was just as good I sighed out loud, which was precisely what everyone else in line wanted to do, but was too polite to do. And people stared at me in shock. It was a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day.

That’s what it was since I needed two stamps and I had none. And I asked everyone I saw. I asked clerks and patrons and men and women. I asked people in business suits and some in jeans. And everyone said they didn’t have two stamps to sell me. So, I had to walk two blocks in the rain to get the stamps to file the writ to claim my house. And even though I had already had two showers, now I was getting a third and I was pretty tired of being wet and drip drying and my hair, which is almost looking like hair, curled up and frizzed up and looked messed up. It was a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day.

Sure enough, when I finally returned to the window where only one man worked, and turned in my papers, he sent me to another window with another line to pay some more money that I didn’t have and shouldn’t have to pay since I was right and they were wrong. The total was twice what I was quoted over the phone and it was purely a fluke that I had enough cash to cover that amount and it was all the cash I had. It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

Next thing you know, I have to stand at the ATM again so that I can pay to get out of the parking garage. And in my rush to get to work I forgot where I parked. And I rode the elevator the wrong direction, all the way up and then back down again causing further delays. It was promising to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

When I finally arrived at work, I found the big boss was there and my almost ex had called and it was way later than I anticipated. And I dropped my leftover Chinese food all over the floor so there was garlic sauce and rice to clean up but not so much to eat. It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

Then S called to tell me that while he worked on the computer, Bishop ate Keenan’s boxers and the rug. An hour later he called again. This time to tell me that the squatters had called code enforcement…on him. They wanted to discredit him, since he was the one who would be writing an invoice for the damage done to the house. It wasn’t a problem since his business was licensed and legal, but it was an inconvenience in an already terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

All day patients walked in without an appointment expecting to be seen. And I hate walk-ins. Everyone wanted to know when the sheriff was going to come evict the squatters and I didn’t have an answer. I hate not having an answer. I forgot to drop off the DHL. I didn’t have enough cash to tip the pizza guy. And when I took Bishop out to go potty I got bit by fire ants. It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

And some days are like that. So, I decided to think positively, think about something good. This is what I came up with…

1/4 tank of gas…………………………………………$7.38

Parking in the court house parking garage…….$3

Lost wages going to the court house…again……$22.88

Filing a Writ of Possession for squatter removal…$55

Book of stamps acquired after a two block walk in the rain in order to file writ……………………………$8.90

New locks at the ready for when the sheriff calls…………………….$30

Getting to see the look on the squatters’ face when the sheriff shows up to evict them………………………..Priceless!

Posted in Reflections | 8 Comments »

Squatter-gate…the saga continues

Wednesday, September 23rd, 2009

home security Well, Monday was supposed to be the last day for the squatters to be in The Bubble. I checked periodically while I was dealing with my ailing son. The longer I watched, the more frustrated I grew. It didn’t seem like any progress was being made…there was no truck, no moving van, no movement. In fact, I had yet to see them even leave the premises.

So, I was supposed to have been able to go to the court house yesterday morning to take care of whatever had to be done to scrape these…individuals…off the bottom of my shoe. Only, I was still home with a sick kid. And to make matters worse, the Internet went down and S needed it to get his work assignments to leave the house and I needed it to be able to work from home. Next thing you know, I’m dealing with three Time Warner Cable guys. It was noon before the situation was resolved.

S left to do some small jobs. I rushed to do what I needed to do. And we might have forgotten to check on the squatter status entirely if Tyler, my Realtor and S’s friend, hadn’t called to say there was a showing at four, let the squatters know. (Yes, he really did call them squatters. The term has caught on given its accuracy and bite.)

What ensued was a flurry of text messages. The gauntlet was thrown.

me: House showings tonight from 4 to 6:30pm. Just found out.

squatters: well i am packing and the house is a mess people wont really be able to get threw to look good

me: Clear a path. Ur supposed to be moved out already. Sheriff has been notified. (I know. When did I turn out to be such a liar? Desperate times have called for desperate measures…)

squatters: We appealed why have you not reseved papers

me: U have no grounds for appeal. Move on.

squatters: That’s not what our lawyer told us he said you have to evict us and give us 60 days read your lease

(Now at this point I’m fuming. These jerks can’t afford to pay me, but they can afford a lawyer? And that’s not what the lease said. They are supposed to give me 60 days notice before moving out. And we’ve already gone through the eviction proceeding. What they hell did they think that day in court was about?)

me: U broke the lease. It’s now void and in the hands of the court.

squatters: We both broke lease because u put the house on the market before the month was over that’s what our legal advisore told us

At this point I was shaking. S had come home about an hour before and had seen the entire exchange. He walked over to me and wrapped me in his arms.

S: Here baby, you just need a magic hug.

Actually, at that point I was thinking I needed an Uzi or an AK 47. I wanted a nice big Molotov cocktail and a lighter. I wanted some Bubble Justice. I pictured all of our neighbors rallying behind us, pitchforks in one hand, torches in the other singing, “Kill the beasts!”

So, I looked at him in utter frustration and burst into tears. It’s just too much. I don’t understand these people, their mentality. I don’t understand why they think they are entitled to stay somewhere they aren’t paying to live. I don’t understand why they think it’s okay to screw me over. I don’t get it. And they think they have grounds for an appeal? How about money? Do they have any of that? That is what started all of this to begin with.

But wait…there’s more.

The closer is came to 4pm, the more concerned I grew that they wouldn’t leave. I called Tyler and left him a warning message, S talked to him when he called back because I was crying and feeling sorry for myself. I hate when I feel like I can’t find a solution to a problem. It can be…overwhelming.

That’s when I decided that S and I needed to leave RIGHT NOW. I couldn’t stand around feeling helpless and frustrated. So, since Keenan was normal and Rachel was home, we prepared to leave The Bubble. And that’s when the ex called. (Because when it rains…) Now, I know he’s not my ex yet, but I’m practicing it’s only a few more days.

The ex wanted to swing by and leave me a drop in the bucket of the child support he owed. And I was so peeved already, it wasn’t a good idea. See, he has decided that he pays too much (make that…is supposed to pay too much) and so he went to Child Support Enforcement…before flying to NY to party for the weekend with his cousins…to fight it. (I swear I could just cold cock him.) So, we had to wait for his arrival before we could depart. I needed him to sign some papers for the bank anyway.

Finally, we left. The shopping went well, and too quickly. I stalled by dragging S into Cruise Masters so we could pick up some literature and plan our next cruise. (He spoils me when he can.) And we decided to order Chinese on the way home. My night was looking up. I was determined not to ruin a potentially good evening.

I should warn you, I’m something of a cookie fortune freak. I love them. I read them and save them. They are like little beacons of hope. Here’s what mine said last night:

Any rough times are now behind you.

I passed it to S and smiled. Then I opened the second.

You will soon be involved in many gatherings and parties.

That was encouraging, since I had ordered the Divorce Cake today. Yay! I felt better. What can I say, I’m easy.

So, we talked and tried not to dwell on all this. We even ended up going over to Ed and Laura’s with Bishop after the kids went to bed. And that’s when our evening heated up.

Laura: I would ask how you are, but I heard.

And so I vented. I told her everything. EVERYTHING. And this is why I love Laura. She grabs the phone.

Laura: I think it’s time to make a collection call. (The squatters owe Ed and Laura for lawn care services rendered.) You want to know who their lawyer is…I’ll find out.

She dials…

Laura: So, I hear you have a lawyer. I’d like his name so I can forward him the bill you owe.

It pretty much went downhill from there. They tried to barter with Laura, which is not unusual. We always do trades. I watch your kid, you mow my lawn. I buy you (insert alcoholic beverage of choice) and you mow my lawn. I think it’s more than fair. In fact, we had already come up with a barter for them to continue to maintain my lawn while it’s on the market.

Then the police showed up. Seriously. It is a known fact that I never (NEVER) have to make up any aspect of my life for it to be more colorful. I don’t have to use hyperbole. Really. This is my life.

Now you have to picture it. The four of us are hanging out in the driveway. Three of us have plastic chairs. Ed is on a cooler. We’re surrounded by lawn care equipment, industrial sized. There’s no light, since it’s eleven at night. Ed’s had a few beers. S has had a few shots. And I’m currently sucking down a ‘rita. (You didn’t think I was going to survive the night without a little help, did you?)

And the officer needs to speak to Laura. All four of us walk over. (because The Bubble runs deep) And even though everyone wants to talk, I take over. The officer explains that he’s there because Laura made a threatening phone call. I explained the situation. (And yes, I did use the word squatter.) I caught him up and tried to even find out my rights, since I’m convinced that I no longer have any.

It was a good talk. And would you believe that they told the officer that they are mowing that lawn? The only grass they’ve paid any attention to since they’ve moved in can be rolled in papers or smoked in a pipe, I assure you. While it threatened to turn into a case of ‘he said she said,’ I let him speak his peace and move on. He wasn’t going to do anything to any of us or them.

I went home smiling…wickedly. The gloves are off. They are scared and desperate. They haven’t been able to goad S into a fight so they can press assault charges and have this situation swept under the rug. They have no idea who they are dealing with. The four of us (me, S, Ed, and Laura) bring our special skill sets to the table. And we know how to handle things LEGALLY that will be almost as satisfying as if we could go all vigilante justice on their lying butts.

me: (as S and I talked in the screen porch after the incident) In what world could they ever have beaten us? They have been weighed, they have been measured, and they have been found wanting…

S: Go Heath.

But now I have a plan. And now I have hope. And if things go as I expect…I’ll have one heck of a post for you tomorrow.

Wish me well!