Category Archives: Writer

The things our children’s father did that pissed me off

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Happy Fathers Day, PawPaw xx

Happy Fathers Day, PawPaw xx

I’m trying to use some humor here. I loved my kid’s Dad with all my heart, even his faults. It made up all the pieces of his gracious heart and loving disposition. We laughed a lot.

The things our children’s father did that pissed me off:

Lover would take apart the boat, the jeep and parts of the house to remodel, restore and to repair, all at the same time. He was excellent at tearing stuff apart. His schedule to put things back together was not the same as my schedule.

Lover refused to call a contractor to make a household repair. In his defense, they always did a half assed job and he would end up doing it over himself. A fine example is the Hurricane Ike damage to the dining room ceiling that started to disintegrate on Christmas Eve.Hours before we had invited guests to arrive, a great talent, Lover artistically cut the mess out and restored it perfectly. That said, it took 9 months to finish laying the ceramic tile flooring through out the entire house.

Lover never took time to find something. He would just go out and purchase 10+ more! I am now the proud owner of 8 coolers, a guzillion grinding wheels, countless cans of spray paint (lots of the same colors), dozens of pairs of work gloves, tons of nails and screws and every girl’s dream – multiple gas cans and containers.

More is so much better than less. If Lover was sent to the grocery store with a short list, you can bet the farm he would return with 15 bags of salami’s, cheese, beer, hot peppers and a piece of meat I’d never heard of . When I’d ask where the list items were, he would tell me pastrami cost $7.95/pound and he forgot the list in the truck!

Though his pagers, cell phones, Bluetooth, etc., were usually attached to him with some kind of case or clip, Lover always failed to be able to locate them at 5:30am each morning when exiting the house. They were usually found underneath the seat in his truck. The truck keys were usually on the lost list when the panic attack started. One time the entire truck was stolen from a work site with the personal cell phone, checkbook, wallet with credit cards, pager, a very expensive loaded toolbox, 15 pair of Levi’s that had just been picked up from the cleaners and his Whataburger lunch. That was the last time I told him to keep all of his things in the truck where he could find them!

Lover was extremely experienced at driving on the Houston freeways, during rush hour, while talking on the phone, taking notes on his famous steno pad, smoking a cigarette, drinking coffee and steering with his knees as he swore out the window at some moron who had just cut him off. I sometimes was the witness to the “moron holler”. The kids wonder why I’m high strung and nervous!

Lover was very particular how his Levi 501’s had to be creased. When holding the jeans upside down, the side seams are matched from top to bottom with the pockets equal distance apart  from the center creases. I screwed up, before we were married, and didn’t fold and press the Levi’s to spec. I did it once. For over twenty years, Violet, at the dry cleaners on Eldridge Road, Sugar Land, Texas, became Lover’s Levi angel. She had those Levi’s starched, pressed and hanger folded to Lover’s exact requirements.

When the Sunday Houston Chronicle was left all over the ceramic tile floor, the room became a slippery health hazard

Too many times, one of the pickup trucks were overloaded. I’d be told, “Don’t worry about it. It will be okay. You worry too much”. We, at times, resembled the Beverly Hillbillies.

I worked from home during the majority of our marriage. If he was home, the rule was not to swear at the dogs while I was on a conference call. Harley, our dachshund, never failed to pee on the floor when Lover was home. He would step in it and proceed to swear in his beautiful booming voice as I was trying to wind down a million dollar commitment with 7 programmers on the speakerphone in my home office.

The boat was always a bone of contention. It was like Lover’s lover. It always needed something that cost bucks. It had to have pricey accommodations. If there was a weather alert, extreme strides were taken to go to the beach and bring it to our primary residence. The HOA would be typing the violation letter as it was being parked in front of the house. The motor, boat and trailer had to have registrations at three different state agencies. “Someone” was always taking it through an oyster bed or trying to sink it off the Gulf Coast. (You’re supposed to put the plugs back in it before it is launched!) God only knows how much he enjoyed being out to sea and running out of gas as a Carnival Cruise ship was coming straight at us! Taking that walk on the wild side.

Happy Fathers Day, Lover

The father of my children has been gone for two Fathers Days. Last Fathers Day, I didn’t even know what was going on. I was lost and it was the first day I was totally alone since his death on June 1. I transplanted a tree in the backyard. It quickly died within weeks. I took it as a sign that there was no hope in the world. Through a lot of trials and tribulations this past year, a grip on my life, as it is now, has taken a lot of turns.

I miss my husband. Our kids miss their father.

What I would give for him to leave his dirty socks on the living room floor or empty beer cans on the table on the back porch. It would thrill me to see a broken carburetor on the glass top dining room table or to hear him singing a George Jones song from the garage.

Hold your Dads close. Tell them now how much you love them and appreciate them – everyday. We did.

 

Monuments, wedding bands, grave markers & everlasting love

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- Mik Everett

– Mik Everett

I have been postponing the purchase, creation and permanence of a monument for my precious husband’s grave. It is funny how your mind doesn’t work properly when half of you is missing. I have a fear of not being able to find his grave. I have a fear of being sorry I made the wrong choices. He wouldn’t approve of anything other than the marker provided by the VA. I heard many times, over many years, ” put me in a wooden box and throw me in the ocean when I die. Don’t be spending all that money on stuff that doesn’t matter.” I would then inform him, “Don’t worry about it. I need to die first because I wouldn’t be able to live without you.” Sad fact, I am existing without him.

There is a deja vu in making choices for things you will have hanging around for decades. It took me the better part of a year to say yes to my husbands wedding proposal. He didn’t actually propose. He told every human being he came in contact with that we were getting married. Choosing wedding bands summed up the same mind dilemma I am having now with the grave monument. It had nothing to do with how I felt about my future. Married or not, I was going to be with the love of my life till “death do us part.” Those words really had no meaning to me until the “death do us part” actually and unexpectedly happened. Wedding rings are something you have to live with day in and day out. They had to be just right. Not too wide and not to gaudy with a reflection of who we actually are. They’re a proclamation to society. That part always bothered me because I picture a cave man dragging his cave woman by the hair and screaming to the other cave people, “this is my cave woman!”

Always marching to the beat of a different drummer, it was important to us to know we were together forever with everlasting love. The wedding rings were part of the permanence. It made for memorable events. We learned a lot about each other in the transaction of choosing styles and price. It was a surprise to know what was truly important to him. A diamond engagement ring was included in the ring round-up of dancing from jeweler to gold and diamond retailer. I came to know my happiness superseded finance, though my taste was simple. Joy and being proud of the achievement radiated from my prospective husband. It was as though the “deal was sealed”. I was elated in sharing the symbolic time with him. Writing about this remembrance in our lives has evoked a moment of happiness in me.

The grave monument will be the “forever” in my life time. It is evoking a similar correlation to the purchase of the wedding rings except I am doing it alone. I say, I am doing it alone but his voice is in my head. His feelings are in my heart. I still feel him walking beside me but then reality kicks in. Learning to be just me again has not been an easy endeavor. It’s a good thing my preferences are usually simple and minimalist in nature. Preliminary research has presented some examples of extreme grief exhibited in multiple ways and means. It is not my intention to leave all of my feelings and price tag hanging from an over-extravagant exhibition at the graveyard. My precious husband would surely be “rolling over in his grave.”

We never discussed epitaphs except the famous one, probably presented from a Facebook passage, that said, “I told you I was sick.” My husband was an award winning writer. It creates a need to put a poignant phrase on the granite. Do I write something myself? Do I put a quote on it from a song? His most famous saying was, “Now, here’s the deal” which was used many a time for problem solving purposes and to teach life lessons to our kids. In fact, our oldest daughter created a sign with that verse on it as a remembrance for her Dad.

It has been a compromise to appease the rest of the family during this turbulent and trying expedition. He was a part of their lives, but he was my world. I will not be asking advice or opinion for this decision. It may rock some hemispheres if a quote from a Led Zeppelin song appears on the marker on the Oklahoma prairie. This resolution is personal and mine. Just like the wedding bands, the grave monument will be there a long time. It’s a symbol of everlasting love.

 

 

Fascinated by home seller presentations

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When my siblings and I were teenagers and ready to sell our first cars, Dad taught us a clean car sells fast. I’m not talking about running it through the $1.98 car wash. Cotton swab, white glove inspection clean to be specific. The engines were steam cleaned. The inside of the bumpers were spotless, graduation tassels removed and all Exxon tiger tails retired. There was enough Rain Dance and Armor All used to buff a Carnival Cruise Liner. The vehicles always sold fast and for the asking price.

The same can be said about listing a home for sale. I am presently searching for a home along the Texas gulf coast. The houses I’ve viewed have kept me awake and freaked out at night. A prospective buyer does not want to see cabinet doors hanging from bent hinges or your foundation garments hanging from a door knob. At least hang the pretty bras out – not the dingy ones. If you don’t own a vacuum cleaner, it would be wise to borrow, rent or steal one. Improvement would be evident if some of the carpets were swept with a broom.

Depersonalizing the home is as integral to cleanliness. Walls of family photos are important to the owners but not to potential buyers. I am haunted by a professional photograph of an older woman with a crown, like Queen Elizabeth’s, on her head. She may be some type of royalty but the home was no castle. I would rather see the hideous red velvet wallpaper than a wall full of hundreds of family photos. Yes, the dog is cute and the babies are adorable but I want to see what type of dynamite it is going to take to remodel the room.

Knickknacks, tchotchkes, trinkets, miniatures, collections and doodads all need to be put in a box and removed from the home. Statues, glass collections, paper weights, CD/DVDs, magazines, newspapers minimize the size of a room. I was afraid to turn around, with my handbag on my shoulder, for fear of knocking something off of a side table. By the way, there were multitudes of small tables in a few homes.  There were enough ducks, geese, eagles and cardinals displayed to represent the Audubon Society. Dead wildlife suspended above every doorway, fireplace and portal are, especially in the wild west, trophies of achievement to a specific fan club. Your prospective buyer may be a member of PETA. A neutral environment will enable a buyer to picture themselves living in your house. A Disney theme with Mickey, Goofy and “It’s a small world” piped in throughout the casa will not cut it.

As a home buyer, when I exit your home, I should have zero knowledge of your:

  • College affiliation
  • Religion
  • Pet preference – unless you have a built in wall aquarium or a farm/ranch property
  • Political views
  • Hoarding
  • Collection passion – e.g.: antique dolls, weapons, porn anything, dead plants, etc.
  • Smoking

“Know your selling audience” is an understatement. Your private abode will become a public forum when your home is listed. Remember, photos tell all. Understand your communities tolerance for stripper poles, trophies from the Swingers Club, bondage equipment, etc. If applicable, it would be best to put all of your toys away!

Less really is best. Fewer pieces of furniture and a minimum number of items displayed allow the seller/home owner to maintain a super clean environment with ease. It is an arduous task to ready a home, you and your family are currently living in, for a real estate viewing.

You probably don’t live in a model home. Model homes are staged environments. There isn’t anyone dropping butter bread on the carpet or leaving wet towels on the floors. Trash is virtually non-existent. Mold will not grow on a shower curtain or glass door if the home is uninhabited. Real folks live in resale homes. Develop a routine when the house is posted to the MLS.

Instead of frying fish and cabbage, keep the food smells to an infinitesimal amount. Cereal and salad usually have no smell. If you need more than two hours notice to take Barkinowski and Miss Kitty Lion for an outing and remove all pet hair in the process, pet accommodation can be included with Agent Remarks for the listing. My dog was sent on sabbatical to a relative’s home to sell our residence. Our home had multiple contracts within seven days. Alleviate any circumstance for a potential buyer to say, “no”.

Bribe the kids. Cajole your spouse/partner/roommate/other half/better half/significant other/soul mate/lover into being on your team. Be detail oriented. Mow and edge the lawn.

Curb appeal is as important as interior presentation when selling your home.

Curb appeal is as important as interior presentation when selling your home.

Pick up tripping hazards. Dust the ceiling fans and chandeliers – including the light bulbs. Keep laundry to an extreme minimum. There is no joy in dirty sock smells.  If you can pluck your eyebrows while peering intently into the kitchen sink faucet – you are on the right track.

(Please don’t steal a vacuum. This article was written with a hint of humor by an active Realtor®. Examples and experiences are real.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Is the Levoxyl recall really a recall?

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Levoxyl 01-2014When is Levoxyl going to be available? Will Levoxyl become available again? When trying to gain answers to a mystery – you start to question the sources of information when seeking answers to the conundrum.

Levoxyl, (levothyroxine sodium), previously manufactured by King Pharmaceuticals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Pfizer Inc, is no longer in production due to smells being emitted by some container situation. After some preliminary research due diligence, another reason production was halted may be due to a profit gain/loss decision to move the manufacturing to another facility.

When a company has to answer to shareholders, it is always a money decision. A recall has to ring adverse when presented to the public keeping consumers “informed” and investors “happy” in harmony. A voluntary recall is not the same tiger as a mandatory recall by the FDA. It would upset the public to hear a necessary prescription was out of production because it wasn’t keeping the money bags content. Shareholders want to be held in high regard when it comes to media output. A bad smell from a container almost conveys a sobersided directive of grievous content.

A quick, brief and analphabet review of the Pfizer board of directors reveals credentials conducive to profit over health ethics. I personally have been a director on multiple boards with members not having a business clue to the company mission, means or mechanics of the organization, with one being an exception. The Pfizer board does have a lot of fancy titles and upper echelon corporate titles.

The American Society of Health-System Pharmacists website claims, according to Pfizer, Levoxyl will become available March 2014. This may be more of a hypothesis than fact. As of the date of this post, I have been unable to verify any information in reference to a date Levoxyl will become available or if it will ever become available.

The repercussions of not having Levoxyl is pragmatic. Beside the fact many families are affected by plant closings – which is tragic and can take another bandwagon tour in itself, thyroid patients unable to get their hands on Levoxyl now have a diminished quality of life. I know because I am unable to fill my long term prescription for Levoxyl. Health care professionals uninterested or unknowingly think other drugs such as Synthroid or generics can be automatically substituted for Levoxyl. Patients know this is not true. It takes a true time commitment with qualified endocrinologists to know everyone reacts differently to different drugs.

Generics are not the same as name brands. Research for this post resulted in seeing a lot of formulary lists for health insurance providers. Health insurance companies are quick to say generics are sufficient. Their primary concern is not for your health. It is to watch profits soar. If your health was a primary mission, formulary lists would not be necessary.

I found out my Levoxyl prescription could not be filled the day after my beloved husband passed away. The nurse practitioner and pharmacists did not have an explanation as to why it was not available. I found the information myself and informed them. I am on my third substitute in 8 months. Blood tests have revealed the current substitutions are not the same. My thyroid levels communicate why my hair is falling out and clogging drains and snarling the vacuum cleaner. My skin is so dry my hands are cracking and snag leggings and fine fabrics. I am lethargic – sleeping twice as much as a normal human being. Intolerance to cold is unfavorable with frigid polar vortexes rampaging. The thermostat is cranked and I’m still wearing a coat around the house. It is best explained as feeling like you are walking through the bottom of a huge swimming pool. I am exhausted, fatigued and frustrated. Blood tests are a true gauge of physical limitations. I thought I was just severely heartbroken and grief stricken. It obviously is not a good time for a compounded predicament.

This is clearly an unscientific and non-professional opinion. It is purely personal.   If anyone has additional information in reference to new production or availability of Levoxyl, please share. Your opinions and thoughts are valued and valuable.

 

Realtors want you to call them

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Never think you are interrupting a Realtor when you call with a question. Believe it or not, they are waiting by the telephone like a crazed teenage girl waiting for some over-sexed teenage boy to call them. This is a true fact. A Realtor depends on each and every telephone call to make their living. Too bad, if your call comes in when the Ellen show is on or they’re waiting in the Escalade, in line in front of the elementary school. (Why they drive one block from their home to wait in a line of cars and SUV’s, an hour in advance, to drive their child home is beyond my comprehension. Do they know how to walk down there and walk back?)

No question is mundane. Even if you are just being nebby and want to know information on a neighbor’s listing, a Realtor always has time to speak with you. Each and every conversation leads to a networking opportunity and a means of marketing. If a Realtor does not return your call, almost immediately – Call another Realtor. Real estate agents conducting their business in a professional manner will have a high interest in speaking to anyone interested in listing or buying a property. If you are just “thinking” about listing your property, call an agent for a comparative market analysis. Most agents will create this report for you at no cost. If an agent wants to charge you for the initial CMA, call another agent!

Call a Realtor to ask them what needs arranged in your home for a quick sale. Ask a Realtor how fast homes are selling in an area you’re thinking of purchasing in. A Realtor can calculate the monthly payment for financing your future residence. A real estate agent will know the interior and exterior paint colors in your area which dominate most sales. Call a real estate agent and ask! No real estate professional ever starved to death because they answered their phone during lunch or dinner. We actually understand that not every customer works 9:00 am to 5:00 pm, Monday through Friday! Calls are expected before and beyond “standard business hours”.

A Realtor worth their paycheck will be forthright and up front when telling you to pack up the nick-knacks and paint the fluorescent orange den a neutral color. Factual information will be provided to assist you when making an offer on a future home. A real estate expert representing you will be working for you. Don’t apologize for calling them. They are waiting, with baited breath, for you to call them!

A casual conversation with a Realtor allows insight into new avenues when you will be ready to move. Rapid changes in the real estate vertical have created different tools, creative outlooks and economic turns which may be very different than the last real estate transaction you may have participated in. The world is spinning faster. Changes within the industry are constant.

The value gained by calling a real estate professional can make a difference in thousands of dollars in your pocket. Take advantage of their expertise.

 

Complaint-Lamar County Tax Assessor/Collector office

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Recently, I went to the Lamar County courthouse in Paris, Texas to conduct changes on vehicle titles. I also had a registration that had expired in November 2013. The reason this specific registration had not been updated was due to Haskell Maroney – I take it is the person as the named Lamar County Tax Assessor-Collector, returned my check to me because the bank or credit union does not appear on their list as being “local”.

I asked the “representative” behind the counter, what specifically constitutes a local bank. Said “representative” told me if the bank wasn’t on their list, they could not accept the check. I asked how this policy or rule got instituted. She informed me the county lawyer made the rule because he was unable to collect on bounced out-of-town checks.

I think an attorney who knows how to collect bounced out-of-town checks needs to replace an attorney who does not know how to collect on insufficient out-of-town checks. For pennies per item, the checks can also be validated at the counter from an out sourced system. So, to save this “attorney” from conducting due diligence, the citizens of this county are subjected to being treated like a deadbeat. The assumption is every check not written on a local bank is bad.

If you use a debit or credit card, you are charged an extra percentage above the transaction. Without being privy to their merchant agreements, I don’t know if this percentage exceeds the amount the financial institution is charging. There are not any disclosures displayed at the counters.

Your choices for paying for the vehicle registrations are:

1. Get back into your car, find an ATM and obtain cash to pay the registration transaction.

2. Use your debit or credit card and pay an additional fee.

3. Get back into your car and drive to a bank, listed as a “local bank”, open an account, drive back to the courthouse, and wait to see if the bank is still on the local list and your check is accepted.

I did #3. When the local check was presented for the registration, I was then asked how many tickets did I receive for driving a vehicle with an expired registration. I informed the “representative” that the vehicle had not been driven with an expired registration. I had just paid her for title changes on two other vehicles with current registrations. Again, being treated like a deadbeat.

One of the title changes I requested was for an antique plate. The original antique plate registration was paid for in March 2013. This plate was good for 5 years. The “representative” told me it was expired. I informed her it was less than a year old and expires in 2018. She told me it was too late, she had already entered into the system to reissue a new one in my name only. The previous owner was my deceased husband. Because she read the expiration date as 2013 instead of 2018, it cost me more money to issue the new antique plate. When I questioned the transaction, I was immediately dismissed, again with “it’s too late, I already put it in the system”.Auto Registration 01-2014

There seemed to be little to no interest in looking at the insurance verification I presented at the window. It makes me wonder who is insured around here and who isn’t.

Word to the wise – don’t change the titles until the registration expires. Know who your elected officials are and what they won’t do when you go to the polls. Mail your “local bank check” to the Lamar County, Texas Tax Assessor/Collector so you don’t feel like a common thief, deadbeat, low life when doing it in person.

Customer service is non-existent when there is no competition. It takes training, common sense and effort to convey respect and “delight” to serve from behind the counter of a public office. Even if the policies were made by someone uneducated in the means to create fair and non-discriminating practices to the majority, the message could be relayed in a professional and positive manner. I’ve goggled this specific office and have found this situation is not new or recent. The solution to the problem is someone speaking up, providing the information necessary to rectify the adverse actions and implementing the personnel willing to practice the golden rule.

I have volunteered at a local food pantry. The clients utilizing the services of the food pantry are treated with higher regard and respect than at the courthouse where we pay all of the salaries.

 

Building a fire

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My resume does not include fire building as a high priority or emphasized line item. It is a good thing and bad thing, to know it takes some effort to create fire in a fireplace or wood burning stove.

If I didn’t want something to burn, it would catch in a second. Intentionally creating fire is an art to behold when needed. I have learned the equipment list and supplies are as important as the task.

Keep all junk newspaper items received from the United States Postal Service. If you have a newspaper subscription, keep them handy. You are going to use them. This is integral to getting an inferno blaring. Unless you are handy with a hatchet, chain saw, DeWalt saw, or are willing to walk your legs through the woods to pick up kindling that won’t infiltrate your chimney with scum – talk nice to your cousin-in-law who is kind enough to share his kindling with you.Those long handled butane lighters are important for spark so as not to burn your hands, arms, sleeves, eye lashes and hair. Those incidental necessities will catch fire immediately. It is a good idea to have a working fire extinguisher nearby. Knowing where it is and being able to see it could be a life saving measure.

A rack to stack tons of wood on will keep it off the ground outside. You still need easy access when it is snowing, pouring down rain or the outside temps are freezing. The backyard neighbors have seen it all when I engage in obtaining a new wood supply for inside by going outside in my leopard slippers, exotic night wear, knee length red and blue striped sweater, rust color ski jacket and wrapped in the blanket with the coffee latte’ motif on it. Try carrying a fourth of an oak tree while the wind is whipping your butt and the chill factor is filling your orifices.

Different size logs will determine the internal temperature of the inside the house environment! One skinny log, half a ton of kindling and the Sunday Houston Chronicle will maintain a temperature of approximately 62 degrees for a short period of time. That is, if the fire catches on. A split medium log, a skinny log and a weekday newspaper will get the ponderosa up to 70 degrees. A bunch of piping hot coals, left over from the initial fire starting attempts, a split medium log and 2 fat logs may get the temp up to a toasty 80 degrees. If you intend to keep warm throughout the night, as my friend Frances refers to it, a huge “night” log is necessary. Depending on the size of your stove or fireplace, you still may be getting your cold tired ass out of bed around 4:00 am to throw more logs on the fire. Important Note: make sure the log fits into the wood burning stove BEFORE shoving it into the fire storm. You certainly don’t want a burning log hanging outside of the stove door!Building a fire 01-2014 a

Designate tons of time to this activity unless you have a house boy named Sven to assist in taking care of your every comfort. Building a fire will lead to contentment and a coziness few electric heating units are able to replicate. Practice and patience will accomplish the task.

A life changing event

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Apology is extended for the lapse in time in posting to this blog.

Your normal self walks around with striking confidence, a cocky attitude, omnipotent disposition and wham – the earth falls out from under you. A life changing event is truly a “life changing” event. You are shocked. You are afraid. You have now become someone else. The crazy cloud surrounding you makes everything a daze. It is unkind but oddly protective.

Through my walks in life, I hear or know someone who has lost their partner or spouse. If it has never happened to you, and it will, you extend sympathy, condolences and prayers. Your expectation is for the person with affluent loss to bounce back into their own true selves. Everyone else is in their comfortable routine of work, kids, family, hobbies, activities and even the mundane of watching Lockdown at 1:00 am. It is understandable they do not grasp the internal panic the grief-stricken party is experiencing. We are not them or in their moment.

So we walk on eggshells and try to be sensitive to selective subjects. We don’t mention the precious conversational tidbit recently shared with our own spouse. Conscientious effort is made not to even mention a squabble. The lone surviving wife or husband views someone else’s fight as a cherished event they wish they could have had – always wishing for those “few more minutes”.

Extreme turnabout is the oblivious asses asking what you’re going to do with the partner’s personal possessions. It isn’t small talk or an extension to assist. They want the cowboy boots they saw on the back porch or the lace tablecloth that is on the table. It is self-serving and greedy. It is usually someone not in the inner circle with no ties to sentimental journey.  Concrete comparison is required to know the genuinely good from the classless bad.

When any of this, from either side, happens to you – keep in mind we are each human. There is no right or wrong. Unless someone has lost multiple spouses to death, they have no experience with what is happening to them. Losing a partner in your twenties may be very different from losing one when they are fifty. Life plans for the survivor instantaneously evaporate. A solitary passage of doing everything for one instead of two.

Please understand a smiling face, a gracious greeting and a brave face may be veiling extreme sadness and grief. Fill their lives with new experiences, fanciful flashes and be open to share a memory or two down the lane when that special door is open.

 

Building a dream house – Addressing the address

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Addresses equal your homestead and where you go each night to leave your shoes on a floor. It is your abode, castle and nest. It allows you to know where you live and wash dishes. As trivial and enlightening as it sounds, our future home became real when we received the 911 address the other day.

There are multiple addresses for properties, especially for those in rural areas. As the area turns and becomes populated, rural routes and post office boxes regurgitate into county road and farm market destinations. The government wants to know where to go when you have a fire or health emergency. Therefore, 911 address are created to be able to quickly assist your emergency need. This is a database not easily celebrated or embraced by “other” entities.

Confusion escalates when the utility companies, water, electric and gas, list the property address as it was initially presented. They appear to be unable to change it to the current or most recent label. It may even be an address unrecognizable to a current owner because the address they’ve been using for decades is different. We have actually purchased multiple properties with addresses to connect utilities were unknown to the current owner. They obviously used different information, previous account numbers, ESI ID numbers, etc to light up the house or flush a toilet. You are told when calling the utility to provide the “service address” as well as the “physical address” or the “911 address”!

To get the lights on at our current home, we had to call the previous owners, who had inherited the property and kindly ask them to search out a previous electric bill for an identification marker to get the lights on. This became the project of the week and a grand fiasco. Their search through a deceased member’s past, yielded an ESI ID. We relayed this info to the retail electric provider. Much to our chagrin and wonder, a security light in the back of the property became illuminated. The property had multiple ESI ID’s and the puzzle wasn’t complete until the one for the house was located.

To avoid mishaps like the previous, we worked diligently with the proper authorities to provide the “911 address” to use for hooking up temporary electric meters for construction purposes. The “911 address” was established by walking up and down the subdivision street and notating the current house number assignments. Obviously, where we will live has a “do it yourself” method for creating your new house number. You call the government agency assigning the 911 address and they ask you to provide the current house numbers. The rhyme and reason of next 4 digits did not apply to this application!

We are building a dream house

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Our decision to move from a major metropolis to east of Egypt has necessitated the building of a home. We knew this a few years ago when I began the optimistic search for a perfect love nest for our cohabitation. There are very few homes in Powderly, Texas from which to choose.

I am an experienced real estate agent. I know how to research and find the flawless and elegant abode to meet any prospect’s heart’s desire. It really helps if you have more than a handful of choices. I know there are great homes here. It is evident the current owners wish to continue living in them! Our choices have resembled Elvis Presley flocked wallpaper decor, no hallway or privacy floor plan – you have to walk through each bedroom to get to the next bedroom (heard they designed the home themselves!), the 4 bedroom, 1 bath house and omg there is a “huge” built-in pool included with the listing! We’ve had a pool. No one had time in their schedule to clean it. Everyone swam in it the first 2 weeks and then it became this “thing” we had in the backyard to look at. I remember cleaning it, in the dark in my corporate blue suit and running all over town trying to find the correct size filters for the pump. If we ever have a home with a pool, it will include a guy named Sven, wearing a speedo. He will know how to mix a chilled Cosmopolitan and instinctively know when to turn the pages on my trashy magazine as I lay in a chaise lounge blabbing on my phone.

We came to the conclusion, we are going to have to have a home built. Is there nothing that will please me? I don’t need a horse stable or RV port. I am tired of remodeling and gutting the joint to the bricks to replace all plumbing and electricity. I’ve sucked up more sheet rock dust than a contractor. I am not in the mood to fix a slab foundation which is cracked in half. Weighing out the pros and cons, starting from scratch will at least be a different adventure.

Eight years ago, after sustaining damage from Hurricane Rita and a 21 hour car ride to escape her wrath, we purchased 8+ acres on a wooded lot, in a subdivision which includes a private lake, in Powderly.  It is beautiful. I have scoured countless websites and bought books with floor plans. The most difficult real estate agents are themselves. My husband was a commercial builder. I, actually worked for a residential builder for years. We think we are experts. The more we research, the less we know. We have agreed on the perfect set of plans, 3 times. Yesterday, we had to commit to the perfect floor plan and elevation so it could be presented to the man trying to plan the foundation work. The husband and I have agreed, after 2 fights, to be our own general contractors. We are building a dream house.We are building a dream house

My cousin-in-law asked me how many fights we have had over this decision. She is keeping track. I, initially, wanted to commit to a builder. Give them the plans and tell them to build the house. Challenges with this commitment occur when they insist on their own vendors. There are extreme limitations with cabinet, woodwork, tile, counters and window choices, to name a few. The husband does not want to put up with shoddy work, inferior product and the front door facing the wrong direction. We have talked to a lot of people with having their home built by the name brand contractors in the area. The majority were very pleased with the final project but admitted there are limitations.  I am a little picky. Personality plays a primary focus for the project. I would rather fight with my lover than a stranger. He is more handsome and I always win.

So, the project truly begins today – the floor plan is being dropped with the concrete man. He has already walked the property. We are calling the bulldozer guy, again, to clear additional trees and brush. The driveway was cut in last year, as was the initial clearing for the house.The survey was verified – to make sure the front yard is not on the guy’s lot next door! In fact, the house will sit almost exactly in the middle of the 8 acres. Trenching for utilities will chunk a huge bite of the budget but privacy does cost a few bucks.  Honestly, it was more important to want to sit half naked on a back porch eight years ago than it is now, but what the hell!

I know there is hope for this endeavor. In 2000, we purchased a home on Crystal Beach which was hand built by a retired couple. The neighbors conveyed stories of a menopausal woman, hammering shingles on the roof of a home which sat on 10 foot pilings. The beach house was literally created with this remarkable couple’s bare hands, in 1973. This little fortress withstood the wrath of Hurricane Alicia and Hurricane Rita with countless tropical depressions and storms in between. On September 13, 2008, Hurricane Ike came to shore with a direct hit to Bolivar Peninsula and wiped our dream house off the face of the earth. If a house, nailed with hand carried lumber and shingles can stand for 35 years with the coastal environmental challenges it faced from the Gulf of Mexico, we certainly can be our own general contractors without choking each other to death. I wonder what their fight count ended up being?