Mini-Crisis at Star Cottage

Life’s like a yo-yo.  It goes up, comes down, goes up, etc.  It was “up” when my Bad Neighbor moved to Arizona.  Then came last Friday…

Picture this.  I’m sitting reading the newspaper at my dining room table when the doorbell rings.  It’s the neighbor on the other side of the neighbor who moved out of state.  (Four town homes are attached.) Anyway, he’s in a highly excited state.  It seems when he was backing out to go to work, he noticed that the empty townhouse between ours had its garage door open and water was pouring out!  Not good.  He urged me outside to look in the front window.  Even worse!  I could see that a portion of their living room ceiling had come down! After getting permission from the Realtor, he and I got into the house through the garage to look for the source of the water, which we could hear running..  Entering the basement bedroom was like entering a rain forest, water dripping down and our feet squishing in the carpet.  We ran upstairs, past the first floor, which had ceiling stuff all over the floor and parts of the ceiling still coming down.  Zipped up to the upstairs hall bathroom – nothing.  Checked the master bath, where it sounded like the shower was on.  It wasn’t.  The stool hadn’t overflowed either.  Just to be doing something, the neighbor turned off the valve to the toilet, and the water STOPPED.  Total quiet except for the existing dripping.

Leaving the place was like wandering through a disaster movie.  As I mentioned before, they had left all their furniture until the house sold.  When we were looking for the main water shutoff in the basement, we discovered they left clothes in the closet, as well.  Everything was a sodden mess.  We went over to check my place, because it was my shared wall, but my living room and bedrooms on that wall all seemed dry.  That was an “Up.”

When I was leaving for an appointment about twenty minutes later, I entered my garage, only to discover that the corner of my garage ceiling was soaking wet and had run down the wall.  Definitely a “Down.”

The Realtor got a water restoration company right out, and they, too, checked my upstairs and found it fine.  They said, the garage needed to be taken care of immediately, because the insulation was most likely wet and could cause mold.  They could get started on it right away.  I only needed to sign a little document.. Of course, you already know what the document said.  It was agreeing that I would pay for anything insurance didn’t cover.  When I asked how much that would be, they couldn’t say.  Instead I put a fan on it and waited.  The Realtor said she would have the Bad Neighbor in Arizona ask her insurance guy about this.  Judging from the woman’s behavior in the past, I seriously doubted she’d bend over backwards to make things right.  On the other hand, I wasn’t about to make a claim with MY insurance and pay a deductible for something I didn’t cause.  Definitely another “down.”

Here I’m going to compress the story a bit.  Finally the Realtor, who is really a nice lady who is being used by the Bad Neighbor to do all the dirty work, left a message for me with the claim number and the insurance company’s telephone number.  I called to determine the protocol of these things, and talked to a really nice man who was going to report my claim to the liability department.  Before he did, however, he explained to me the law in my state regarding situations like this.  What an eyeopener!  In Missouri, if water from your house damages an adjoining structure, you are not responsible for that damage unless it can be proven that you were somehow negligent.  How fair is that? In other words, if you forget that you were running bath water, leave the house and it causes damage to your neighbor, you are responsible.  But, as in this case, if a pipe just spontaneously bursts, causing harm to your neighbor’s structure – no worries!  For them.  Worries for me.  Another “down.”

Rather than call their liability department, I called the woman who headed the water restoration team to tell her I wouldn’t be using their services, but thanked her for her concern.  And she DID seemed concerned, but understood what a crappy position I was in.  She said she’d be over in twenty minutes because she wanted to check the moisture levels in my ceiling again to see if they had dried a bit.  She and a colleague checked, and the moisture meter practically screamed in a section one foot wide by six feet long.  She suggested that I get a handy man to cut that part of the drywall ceiling out so that the wet insulation could be removed.  She said they could do it, but that they were really expensive.  I asked if they would mark it for me, which they did.  They were totally nice and absolutely not pushy.  When I thanked her for this extra effort, she said, “Well, I could tell you were ‘good people.'”  Wow.  An “up!”

So here I was, needing to find someone who could do this work immediately, someone honest who wasn’t afraid of hard work or getting dirty.  I needed someone who could cut through that ceiling, which wouldn’t be easy, and pull out that soaked insulation, which would be nasty.  Someone I could rely on.  Fortunately, I knew just the person!  I went upstairs to change into my “Workman Star” uniform. 

Not a bad job for an amateur, huh?  When I finished, I was hot and dirty and tired, but I was also proud.

You might be wondering why I didn’t decide to fight with her insurance company…Well, first of all, even if I eventually got them to pay for it, which I probably wouldn’t have, it would have been too late.  Even when I pulled out that insulation three days later, it was starting to smell.  And second of all, I’m at a phase in my life when I choose my battles carefully.  If it had been something bigger – maybe.  I just decided to opt out of the stress.

So yes, the yo-yo had some downs.  But look at all the “ups.”  (1) It could have been so much worse.  (2) I met some really nice people who bent over backwards to help me just because they cared.  And, (3) I proved to myself once again that I’m pretty darned self-sufficient.  Everything is dried out now and ready for some nice new fresh insulation.

So even though this situation might have been shocking, unfair, and a bit frustrating, I’m going to choose to declare it a win – for ME.

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A Yucca Tale

Once upon a time, there were two lovely yucca plants, planted in a driveway divider.  Even though they were born in Kentucky and endured an eBay transaction and the stresses of shipment, they embraced their new home, even in the Autumn.

They grew strong and tall and were happy, happy, happy…until THE DOG moved in. The dog, himself was probably not inherently EVIL, but he had a nasty, nasty little habit of PEEING on Biggie and Baby Yucca.  Now, this happened not just now and then, but every time his owners, THE EVIL NEIGHBORS, took him out.

Naturally, as no one can take being urinated on forever, the yuccas sickened and grew weak.  (Sob!)  Their sweet, loving Mistress, removed them from that dreaded “peeing field” and placed them in Intensive Care, but ALAS… Biggie, who suffered the most “splatters,” finally succumbed to his injuries.  (His family has requested that he not be buried again, but rather disposed of in a manner in which he will be forever free from the dangers presented by poor canine bladder control.)

So, now that leaves Baby, which has been renamed “Lolita.”

For you see, when her Mistress went to replant her, what should she find, but that Baby had had A BABY!

So all’s well that ends well.  For now.

I suppose the moral of this story could be: One man’s pee is another man’s poison. Or, as Baby said to Biggie:  “Don’t look up.  That’s not rain!” If you can come up with a better one, feel free  to comment!  I dare ya!

Later!

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The Beginning of Something Good?

Let me be clear, I’ve always enjoyed smoking, not because I’m a “slave” to nicotine, but rather because I take pleasure in the “ritual” of lighting up, inhaling, and holding a cigarette.  It calms me, always has.  And yes, I know it’s bad for me, but we each choose our vices.  Some are addicted to drugs.  Some eat themselves to death.  Others become alcoholics.  I do none of those things.  So I’ve always believed, “judge not, that ye be not judged.”  And I’m damned tired of people judging smokers!

But then I read this post on Grandad’s blog, “Head Rambles,” about him trying an electronic pipe and liking it.  I was intrigued.  I began to research “electronic cigarettes,” only to find hundreds of dealers and endless lists of people who had made the transition from tobacco.  An “e-cig” looks, feels and smokes just like a real cigarette only without any of the over 4,000 poisonous substances and harmful chemicals found in real cigarettes, such as tar, carbon monoxide, acetone, sulfuric acid, etc.  It operates on a battery (which looks like the body of the cigarette.)  The tip lights up, but produces no fire.  The “smoke” one inhales and exhales is actually water vapor.  (Ah!  No one whining about second hand smoke!)

After you buy a starter kit with batteries, atomizer, filters and recharger, all that’s left to buy are filter cartridges flavored to your tobacco choice.  Or, you also have the option to buy “blank” filter cartridges and fill them with several drops of “E-liquid.”  These come in a multitude of flavors, from menthol and Marlboro to vanilla, coffee, cherry, clove, chocolate – you name it!

I didn’t want to stop smoking.  BUT, if I could have the experience of smoking without the cancer-causing chemicals, additives and tar of regular cigarettes, didn’t it make sense to at least try it?  I decided it did.  I ended up getting two different types of e-cigs, one that looks like a cigarette and one “pen style” which is black.

When they arrived, the first thing I had to do was charge the batteries eight hours.  Fortunately, they include battery chargers into which you just screw the “cigarette” battery.

As I read the literature that came with the two different sets, I wondered if this would really work for me.  One suggested that you occasionally smoke a real cigarette as you wean yourself away, and promised that, eventually you’d find the real ones tasting more like crap. (That’s exactly what it said!)

So, a couple of days ago, I began my experiment.  My first impression was that the white cigarette felt a lot heavier than the real thing.  Also, I had chosen “light” menthol, not realizing that I would have to draw harder on the e-cig to taste it.  The black e-cig was thinner and longer, and has a mouthpiece which I like.  The first day it was touch-and-go.  I thought, “this isn’t like a real cigarette.” But, the second day I tried dropping several drops of vanilla e-liquid into the filter…and it was a whole different experience! My first thought was “Maybe I CAN get used to this.” It tasted nice.  I was smoking, but there was no real smoke.  I kept tapping the thing over an ashtray before I realized there was no ash because there was no fire.  This was a cigarette that wouldn’t burn away if I went into another room to grab something. When I was doing something else, I could just put it into my pocket.  The “pros” started piling up.

Of course, now the FDA is trying to get them blocked so that they can test the long-term effects, which is ironic since tobacco cigarettes are legal and we know the long term effects of them!  But since when didn’t the government try to get authority over everything?

Anyway, as for me, I’m cautiously optimistic.  I’m finding my need for “real” cigarettes slowly diminishing.  Today I only had three.  This could really be a life-changing decision for me.  Maybe even a life-saving one.  We’ll see.

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Name This Bird!

I’m in the middle of writing an important (to me) post, which I hope to publish tomorrow, but, in the meantime, I discovered a new bird in my own personal “Star Bird Sanctuary,” i.e., the tree right in front of my balcony.  Since my balcony’s up on the second floor, I’m often privileged to get a bird’s eye view.

Having said that, I captured these shots of him (or her) on the ground with my zoom.  This is a much bigger bird than I’ve seen hanging out here and is absolutely gorgeous!  There is a lot of blue in the feathers.  Here’s a shot from the back.And finally, one from the front.  I just love the markings on the feathers!  And look how big the feet are. 

And, for extra credit, here is a bird which I think is a friend of the first one.  The picture’s not sharp because I was on the phone when I took it and was shooting through the screen.

Okay, you bird experts!  Tell me what kind of birds I’m looking at here.  I’m fully aware of my bird-ignorance and am anticipating that you’ll probably say something like “Star!  You ignoramus!  Those are common pigeons!”

Well, they may well be pigeons, for all I know…but, to me, they’ll never be common!

Awaiting your comments,

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“Daddyisms”

My daddy passed away fifteen years ago, but hardly a day goes by that I don’t think about something he did or said.  Just yesterday I was leaning on my balcony rail, staring at the trees, and remembered how flustered he’d get, trying to get his whole family into the car to go somewhere.  He had five daughters and a wife and felt very much in the minority as the only male.  When the last one of us was ready and in the car, he always, and I mean always, said, “Well, we’re off like a herd of turtles!” The phrase was so much of part of him that I never, until now, thought about how funny it was.

He was just full of little adages.  Whenever I expressed doubt as to whether or not I could do something, his favorite one was “Can’t never did do anything!” Whenever he was leaving the room to use the restroom, it was always, “Excuse me, ladies.  I’m going to see a man about a dog,” in sort of a snooty Jeeves-the- butler sort of accent.  If I worried that I was too chubby, he’d frown and say, “Bah!  You’re so skinny you’d  have to stand up twice to make a shadow!” Of course Daddy’s taste was women “who have something to grab onto!” To which I always replied, “Gross!”

And this language wasn’t just reserved for family.  One time I was eavesdropping as he and a friend were drinking beer out on the screened-in porch.  I don’t know who they were talking about, but apparently my daddy didn’t care for him.  I heard him say, “He’s so crooked that when he dies, they’ll have to screw him into the ground!” Such an image!  No wonder I grew up creative.

I figure a big influence on his language was his mother, my Grammy.  She, too, had her own way of expressing herself.  She was always “up with the chickens,” and my cousin and I were usually  “full of piss and vinegar,” an expression I’ve found myself using more than once.  She never “intended,” she “fixed.”  “I’m fixin’ to make some pies.” “I’m fixin’ to go to town.” To her I was “no bigger than a minute.” And the useless bum that lived across the street?  He was “uglier than homemade sin.” For some odd reason, that’s another one that has stuck with me, although I’m not truly sure I know exactly what it means.

So I obviously come from a background of very colorful and creative language.  But, looking back, I do have a favorite.  My dad was a policeman and was a sergeant throughout most of his career.  Whenever he’d stretch out on the sofa for a nap, he’d cover his eyes with his arm and murmur, “Wake me up when I make Chief!”

I’m smiling even as I write that.  It seems to exemplify the man my dad was – funny, hopeful, down to earth.  And yes, one day he did make chief…albeit of a smaller police force, so maybe there was a little magic in those words.  At any rate, much of who I am today can be attributed to the lessons I learned from my daddy.

And I miss him.  And I guess I always will.

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On Cloud Patrol – Episode 4

As usual, I’ve been collecting clouds, which is a nice inexpensive hobby, if I do say so myself…and I do.  And so, without further ado (and hopefully, no more cliches) I present you with my first four clouds of June.

The first is of a magnificent cloud dragon.  Okay, it’s really just his big snout and the suggestion of wings, but cool nonetheless!The next shot is of a baby bear flying a kite. The kite is on the middle left and you can see the baby bear’s head, ears and nose.  See him?The third is Mickey Mouse with some ear shrinkage. (I can only assume it’s cold up there in the clouds!) And last, but certainly not least, is my big dramatic finish cloud.  It’s the fight of the monsters! This might take some work, but it is totally worth it…  On the middle left is a piranha fish yelling at the Loch Ness Monster on the right.  Then, above them is the gigantic Japanese monster Rodan swooping in to join the fight.  His head is above the Loch Ness Monster’s head and his wings are totally extended.  Exciting, no?

And so, I bring this episode to a chilling close with this reminder – there’s a heck of a lot of stuff going on right above your head, so keep your eyes on the skies!

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