Dad shared a bit of news with me just now - he gets the local/city paper and there was a prominent article regarding our mayor . . . who has the same last name and has a business in auto repair just like my family . . .

www.presspubs.com/articles/2009/07/09/white_bear_press/news/doc4a4a443707e17678425728.txt

The short version: he's been shut down by the IRS for back taxes. His comment: he's "just an auto mechanic and a small town mayor."

I laughed at that. Not giggled. Not chuckled. Laughed.

First of all, this is a "town" of roughly 30,000 - that is NOT small. Yes, by comparison to Minneapolis and/or St. Paul, we are "small," but not in comparison to the thousands of other towns in MN that are small. There is no "small town feel" to this place - we are a suburb of St. Paul, a place to pass through as you head north to the cabin.

Second, both Dad and I, for various, nitpicky reasons, have been hounded by him and the city over simple/stupid issues that have no sense being the city's concern OR the city's trying to enforce regs on Dad, but not on everyone else in the city, only him.

Example: A chain-link fence with dark-colored privacy strips included (so you can't see the cars that are parked behind it) that was put up roughly 15-20 years ago (I was a child at the time, I remember that much) at their direction at that time on the business property no longer meets their requirements for a privacy fence and needs to be replaced with a specific-sized wooden one . . . why does it need to be replaced? Well, we asked for the city's permission to change the property boundaries between the business property (that Dad owns) and the empty parcel next door (that I "own") - specifically to take 15 feet from mine and put it with his. The kicker: the fence in question isn't even near my parcel - it's on the complete opposite end of his property.

Another example: city ordinance says you cannot park a vehicle on grass (i.e. your lawn). That same privacy fence is on its own empty lot, complete with curb cut-out for a driveway that goes right into that fenced area. It's not paved - it's barely "graveled" at this point because the weeds have taken over. The city tried telling Dad he couldn't park cars there because they're on the grass. (They shut up once he pointed out that it was an actual lot with a driveway - nothing against that.) 

Even better: The city (remember now, the mayor is an auto mechanic with his own business) told Dad he could only have 2 cars parked in the driveway at the business at any time. Now, yes, the business is in a residential area - it's been there for over 50 years (as long as my grandparents have lived in the house there) - but the driveway can hold 5-6 vehicles at a time and it goes along side and curves around to the back, so things are pretty hidden. Still . . . only 2 cars? That's all an auto repair business is allowed to have at any given time?

Okay . . . anyway . . . so yeah, I smiled and chuckled. The city (the mayor included) has been "breathing down our necks" - wonder how he likes it now that it's happening to him.

. . . and soon to be gone . . . . in 3 months, that is . . . but I know that time will fly.

The house - the family home - the place where I was raised - will be in foreclosure by this fall. Dad just shared this information with me. He's not making the mortgage payments effective immediately.

As frustrating and difficult as things have been as of late . . . this only makes it worse. I just want my own place - a place where I felt at home, felt comfortable. A place where I didn't have to check my feet to make sure I wasn't stepping on a cat. A place where I could be comfortable. A place where I knew my things would be left alone.

I don't know where I'll be in 3 months . . . that really throws a big monkeywrench in everything . . .

The panic will come later . . . right now, I'm just . . . numb.

Seriously.

I've been told to slow down. Again. I'm already equating myself with a snail.

I'm reading the written work of 4th graders. I've already kept myself in check by reading each 1-5 page document 3 times, even to the point of purposefully looking at the blank pages for 5 seconds. My daily stats have been where they want them and put me in the middle of the 30 or so people who are reading the same stuff.

Today, the supervisors approached people (so at least I wasn't the only) to tell us to slow down, though that's not an "official" statement from anyone in the company. The project is supposed to go until next Wednesday and they don't want our room (that's 1 of 3) that's on schedule and has always been on schedule to finish before the other two rooms who are signficantly behind schedule and have always been behind schedule. Why? Well, people will be upset then that others are still working and they're not.

On one hand, yes, I want to work as long as possible and earn as much as I can, knowing that this project ends next week and there's nothing more for this year. Yes, I understand: reading fast means you get done quicker. I get that concept. I'm well aware that I read fast. No, I don't want to be the cause of why people don't have work - who does?

Also, this work is TEMPORARY - that is clearly articulated and very apparent, more so this year than last year, but still very apparent. It's a temporary paycheck. Nothing more.

On the other hand . . .  I like being productive - I am not someone who can sit around and twiddle my thumbs. My mind is in constant motion of thoughts and the body isn't too far behind. Having to slow down has not been enjoyable. Having to slow down even more will be painful.

Add to that "slowing down" means that theoretically, they're "okay" with you taking frequent bathroom breaks or refilling your water bottle or getting another cup of coffee at a non-regulated break time . . . but they also don't want you doing that too frequently because then that looks suspicious.

I just can't win. I give up.

*silently screams*

. . . but could the temperatures at least even out?

Last week was boiling hot - 90-plus degrees, bright sun and the humidity to match. Miserable weather for anything without air conditioning, such as my car. The kind of weather that requires the least amount of clothing. Even the momentary relief brought on by a thunderstorm or two was too short for my tastes.

This week . . . we've dropped 30-40 degrees in temperature with the clouds to match and occassional bursts of rain. Now I'm having to dig out the jeans and long-sleeved shirts and layers again, only to have to go back to the shorts this weekend.

I hate being too hot. I hate being too cold. Can't things balance out?!

Sunday afternoon . . . not too bad outside - hot, yes; windy, yes; still not too bad . . . .

And I'm inside the Mall of America . . . . torturing myself with that dreaded task called shopping.

My one and only pair of tennis shoes are falling apart quite badly . . . my sandals will be next. I'll have to get a new pair of dress boots this fall, too.

*sighs*

Wish someone would relieve me of this . . . but I will muddle through.

Edit: If your toddler-aged kid is screaming their head off, using a nice high pitch that has others wincing, how about GETTING OUT OF THE MALL!!! Ignoring them isn't helping any, neither is just pulling the stroller behind you . . . and you're only letting them know they can behave like that whenever they want. Good grief . .. I would've been thrown over a shoulder to be hauled out of the place and had a good reminder on my butt of what is acceptable behavior out in public.

There should be a law written somewhere limiting the number of times a written document can use the word "and" in a sentence.

I read a document today that was 4 pages long (handwritten), contained 3 sentences that started with capital letters and ended with periods as well as had all words spelled correctly. However, it also contained 32 uses of the word "and" to join together in one giant run-on sentence.

Okay, granted the document was written by a 4th grade student and they have not mastered the concept of a "run-on sentence," so the state's rules are that I'm supposed to ignore them as I score this paper . . . but 32 of them!?!

Ugh.

Today is just one of those days where I feel like pounding a brick wall with something.

Part of my days are spent repeating the same information: there is an option/program through some private lenders where publicly traded stock is used as collateral. Emphasize publicly traded STOCK. I have a few contacts who are well aware of this program and occassionally get in touch with me about it, particularly to see if a loan can be done. They are financial professionals in their own rights, so you'd think they'd know what "publicly traded stock" means.

Apparently, I'm mistaken in thinking that.

With one contact, I have repeatedly said that the loan program he's interested in for his client deals with publicly traded stock. I lost count of how many conversations occurred and how many times that information was repeated, with emphasis on the phrase "publicly traded stock" and the 4 pieces of basic information that I needed to start to process.

After technical difficulties involving fax machines, I finally get information from him today, supposedly to start the process . . .  it's not stock that the client has. It's bonds.

*insert strangled scream*

STOCKS ARE NOT THE SAME AS BONDS!!!

So I get in touch and I say once again, the loan program deals with publicly traded stock. His response: "Oh. So you cannot do anything (to use the information to get a loan for the client)?"  

The professional I am, I refrain from reaching through the phone line and strangling him, saying instead that I will check with my contacts and get back to him. Bonds are their own separate entities, which I'm still working on learning. What I do know is they are different than stocks and therefore, lead to a different route of phone calls.

From wikipedia: Bonds and stocks are both securities, but the major difference between the two is that stockholders have an equity stake in the company (i.e., they are owners), whereas bondholders have a creditor stake in the company (i.e., they are lenders). Another difference is that bonds usually have a defined term, or maturity, after which the bond is redeemed, whereas stocks may be outstanding indefinitely. 
 
*takes deep breath*

I'm done now. I'll return back to work.

*screams silently*

Words cannot express how much I want out.

Out of the house.

Out of the area.

Out of the state.

RIGHT NOW!!!

*fights against the tears*

*sighs*

It will happen - I have absolutely no doubt about it.

I will move to where I - emphasis there - I want to be.

And it will be away from here.

Far away.

Heat.

Headache.

It's going to be a long week. Mr. Weather-Forecaster-Person is predicting a week of 90-95 degrees, bright and sunny. Granted, I don't trust the weather people to be accurate any farther than a few hours, but that makes it officially summer. So . . .

lots of heat = headaches

I like to keep myself at a fairly even temperature . . . not boiling hot while outside then freeze when I step into an air-conditioned building. The current vehicle lacks AC completely - doesn't even have the parts for it! - and one window is broken, thus reducing air circulation. Even a 5-minute drive to the gym is going to roast me.

The sunshine alone is cause enough for headaches as it is . . . ever since my college days of working the open-air lot of a car rental agency (think of your large-size dealership lot), I can guarantee a nice, throbbing headache if I forget my sunglasses on any day that is even partly (let alone completely/fully) sunny.

*sighs*

I'll survive . . . better make sure I have an ice pack at home . . . and maybe some ibuprofen . . .

I really do not need the aggravation . . . or the headaches . . . or the difficulty sleeping . . .

I do not need to be reminded that I am a fast reader - I know it, so how about working with me here and NOT freak out because I was 10% over the high end - is 15 papers really that big of a deal in the grand scheme of over 50,000?

I do not need to be put down, belittled or degraded because I'm doing what I'm doing. I've heard it all. It doesn't change anything.

I do not need more annoyance or irritation - I have enough as it is.

I am stressed out enough just managing day to day. More does not help.

*crawls back to her cave*

***WARNING: There are needles ahead! I know of at least one on my f-list who has issues with needles. Nothing overtly graphic, but if reading about needles provokes images that are unpleasant, skip this entry. (There's nothing important anyway. Just my grumbling.)


Okay . . . this is sounding really pathetic to me . . . but it dawned on me that the most "relaxing" time of the past couple of weeks has been the 30 minutes or so while I'm lying in a very quiet room with acupuncture needles in me. Yes, my mind is going full-tilt in ten different directions - attempting to organize my thoughts, mentally write any of the things that need to be written, prioritize the never-ending "to-do" list - but I'm stuck there with nothing else BUT my mind.

I'm laying on a table, various body parts exposed. Very soft music in the background. Dim lighting. Even, deep breathing. Eyes closed. Perfectly relaxing environment . . . just add the needles.

Needles do not bother me, nor do I really notice any pain associated with them. I've donated blood via apheresis which requires a needle in each arm for close to two hours. I had countless allergy shots as a child. I grew up with hypodermics in the house because of Mom and knowing how to handle/use them thanks to Dad's work as a paramedic. Even the accidental stabbings of myself with the pins and needles I use for sewing do not affect me.
 
*sighs* Yep. That's me.

*sighs* . . . I don't quite know how to describe things right now . . . dead? . . . blah? . . . stagnant? . . . even? . . .

I think "okay," as generic as that word is, covers it. Every day is a struggle, but I'm used to that - if there wasn't a struggle in regards to something, I'd be suspicious as to what's hiding/waiting to catch me by surprise. There's always something to be done, but I don't always feel like I'm being productive, that there's progress, but I'm not falling behind, either.

It's not necessarily a bad thing, but it's not necessarily a good thing, either, especially with my mind flashing back to days where things were much worse . . . like having Dad put a tank of gas in my car just so I could drive to Rochester and work overnights at a hotel . . . like commuting 90 minutes each way for $10/hour . . . like seeing a 5-figure digit of debt that was in my name, but got there because of other people . . . *shudders*

The weekend is bringing the family reunion for Mom's side of the family - they wanted to do it near her birthday (which was yesterday), so it ended up on Saturday. I'm bringing the collection of photos for people to sort through and tell me what they mean - there's all sorts of photos of her childhood that I have no clue about and I'd like to at least put them into a scrapbook with some sort of idea of who/what/when/where/why. I don't plan on hanging around longer than necessary - I don't need the aggravation and annoyance that comes with dealing with them.

A slightly more positive note: it appears I will eventually be upgrading my vehicle . . . there's a 1999 Chevy Malibu sitting over at Dad's shop. Yes, like all the other vehicles that come into the family, it is currently broken and needs to be fixed - my only exception to that statement was my 1996 Taurus that was purchased from a dealership in full working condition (though Dad did end up working on it later). I know, it's an inanimate object, a hunk of metals and plastic, but it's mine and it's a step better than what I currently have - that's important to me. It's the "little" things that will mean a lot to me - like having A/C in the car . . . a radio with more than 4 programmable radio stations . . . electric windows/doors/etc. . . . yes, that'll be nice . . . .

It's a Sunday afternoon . . . . they always seem to sneak up on me. There's the usual stuff to do - get the trash out, check the adverts for this week's "must purchase" items because they're on sale at a good price, check the week ahead for what's important to remember because the days are just blurring together too quickly . . . . and then, there's the never-ending battle of the house. I'm living in a virtual demo/remodel project - the kind that's done on a very tight shoestring of a budget with complete amateurs at work.  



The sun is outside, shining brightly . . . .

nicely warm compared to yesterday's freezing (literally!) temps.

I'm inside, amid a sea of papers, emails and "to do" lists . . . .

wishing I had that magic wand to take care of everything.

My iTunes blaring into my ears, songs shuffling through the variety that I have . . . .

drowning out all possible thoughts of fun - for the moment, at least.


Everyone else having a good weekend? 

The answers:

1. This is done in the air: ghlie = fly

2.This is a state in the US: Elenoine = Illinois

3. This is a breed of dog: shiteshoe = Shitzhu

4. This word is actually a contraction: comedint = couldn't

5. This something created after it rains: potol = puddle

6. This is also someone's signature: atergraf = autograph

7. This is a tactic used to surprise someone: andbosh = ambush

And for a bonus . . . I can't think of a clue for this one: hipo-alerjenct = hypo-allergenic - and this one wins the award for the most creative use as well - it was used in a sentence referring to a cat!

All right . . . pull out your imagination and phonics skills . . . . can you figure out the misspelled words? I'll be nice and give some context or clue.

1. This is done in the air: ghlie

2.This is a state in the US: Elenoine

3. This is a breed of dog: shiteshoe

4. This word is actually a contraction: comedint

5. This something created after it rains: potol

6. This is also someone's signature: atergraf

7. This is a tactic used to surprise someone: andbosh

And for a bonus . . . I can't think of a clue for this one: hipo-alerjenct

Enjoy! (I did when I came across them!)

Yes, it's another Sunday night . . . somehow, time just slides by me. I'm never ready for Monday morning.

I can barely think straight - barely keep things going in my mind, let alone on paper, but yet, somehow I manage.

Don't ask me how. I think chaos is normal.

Yes, another Sunday night has rolled around.

Even more joyous: I'm working on a shopping list for tomorrow - remember, I hate shopping. Even grocery shopping.

Which is what I'm doing now.

*sighs*

I'm shopping for food for one - just me. That's tough to do. Many things will spoil long before I'll eat all of it - fresh fruits and veggies come to mind. A loaf of bread could last me a few weeks, but it won't stay fresh for that long - and there's only so many ways I could use it. It also means I need to do some menu-planning for the week ahead as well as stay within the limited freezer and fridge space I have commandeered. It really does get boring to eat the same thing every day . . . .

I'm shopping to be more health-conscious than before - more fresh fruits and veggies. I'm proud of the weight I've lost thus far, but there' s still more to go. I'm sharing a house with a woman who has no concept of what is a serving size for adults (not that she'd need it anyway), but I'm not touching anything of hers in the fridge/freezer unless I absolutely have to - not even the leftovers. I still have my weaknesses for potatoes, pasta and breads and while they're not totally eliminated, they are curtailed. The sweets are also gone, something which Aunt J can't understand because that's what she likes to cook. 

I'm shopping also to be budget-friendly - who's got the best deals for this week. I'm not tied to a particular store or chain, but I will say that I do like quality and taste - that's a hold-over from my Boston days. I don't want to waste my money on food that'll spoil or not get eaten, either.

I really do hate shopping.

. . . as it's simply the quote running through my head.

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.

*sighs*

When does this act end? Soon? Please? The next act MUST be better than this . . . ugh!

Well, auberus  hasn't said anything, so I'll say it:

Thanks to the test-scoring place, this poem is in my head . . . because I'm finding out just how well 10th graders are able to read and comprehend it. All I can say . . . UGH!
( Poetry is rarely understood . . .  )

 

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Eric Hutchinson apparently has a song out titled "Okay is fine by me" (or something close to that) - I caught it on Cities 97, a local radio station as I got into my car a couple of hours ago. I felt like laughing and crying at the same time just hearing the last few words of the song.

( Just in case you don't want to hear about my day . . .  )

So . . . yeah . . . getting to "okay is allright by me" . . . that'll take a bit of work.