The Art of Being Conflicted

Rip Van Wrinkle

noreply@blogger.com (Cperz) — Wed, 26 Jul 2017 15:54:00 +0000

I am sure many of you have considered the possibility that you missed my "services". Truth be told, my obituary is still forthcoming. Thankfully so. Hopefully, that gives me time to do something interesting enough so that my final bio isn't a total snooze-fest relating to it's limited content. Don't let anyone tell you that it's quantity over quality as far as obituaries go. I have already lived a lot of years and can't come up with any entertaining synopsis that would entertain those of you that read the obits for fun.

I could just fall on the general excuse "I've been busy." as to my ongoing neglect of my poor blog and that's not necessarily a lie. I seem to blow through the hours of the day about as fast as e-coli laced chicken travels through intestines but that isn't to say that those hours are made up of fascinating or fun events that I can expect anyone to be entertained or amused by.

I have come to the realization that this period of my life that is currently lingering between my calling my current employment status as being retired, being unemployed or being a slug isn't eliciting a plethora of fun anecdotes that I can share with you. Of course, I could be selling it short on how much you want to hear about how hot Kansas is this year.

Anyway, as I was saying...I am trying to find balance in my life just as all generations struggle to do. Being in charge of all my time sans the dictates of a job leaves a lot of wandering around aimlessly while figuring out how to keep busy and simultaneously adding things that are productive, fulfilling, engaging, life affirming etc. into the mix along side of all the mundane chores that have to be done. Sadly all those pesky things like hygiene, sleep, nourishment, taking care of our homes, etc. don't seem to go away. Also, we don't get to retire from the obligations. Now there is a big time suck of a word...obligation. Another O word might come into play as well that is the word obstacles. Yeah, just when things appear to be smooth sailing some drama-laced crap storm blows in to humble you into realizing you really don't have control of your time at all.

For example....Within days of my last post I was temporarily sidetracked by finding my 17 year old cat laying sprawled on the kitchen floor appearing lifeless. As it's not typical for cats to play dead, I was pretty sure that something was "off". (NOTE: I totally recognize for you folks out there that aren't "cat people" this doesn't sound like a bad thing but for us "OMG cats are the BEST" seeing a cat potentially lifeless is a bad thing.)

Anyway...After my initial hysteria, I scooped up my baby and took her to the local vet hospital and she was put into intensive care. Seriously, I know some of you aren't even believing that is a real thing, but I assure you it is real. There are veterinary ICU units. Not only are they real but I now realize that this is the most ingenious way to make a living. Face it...the second a vet tells you that your sweet animal can make a full recovery if given IV's, antibiotics, and maybe some dialysis (ka-ching) are you really going to say "NO, let's just watch my kitty die." Well...OK some of you are will say that but the rest of us aren't prepared to pull the plug.

My Chantel is back to being her pretty self if only in looks. She is not a people person outside of her family.

Needless to say, after my sweet baby got out of the ICU, she required private nursing care provided by "moi" for a couple of weeks and she did get back to her feisty self. In fact, she was pretty much back to her usual nastiness (as it applies to any person in our house that she doesn't know and/or approve of), by the time that we were getting ready to start yet another remodeling project.

Yes, you read that correctly. We are flawed human beings that just can't leave well enough alone. We invite obstacles into our house and serve them milk and cookies. We know in our heart of hearts that there has never been a problem-free renovation project in the entire span of human existence but still we decide to "just get a quote" to find out what it would take to tear out the old and put in something shiny and new.

Needless to say that that quote manifested into an actual project...well projects really. Over the last few months, we have continued our quest to never be able to recoup the amount of money we have poured into our house. Had I really died during my absence of blogging, I can only hope that my husband and children would of turned our freshly updated abode into a mausoleum so I could have continued to stay here long enough to feel secure in that I got my money's worth out of the new bathrooms and kitchen redo. I am pretty sure that time span would broach eternity, so perhaps I should, in fact, find out what the zoning rules are to get a conditional use permit for changing our residence into our final resting place.

I always try to remember that any and all home projects are NEVER going to be without headaches but just as in childbirth, you try to tell yourself somewhere in the future that it wasn't really all that bad and it was so worth the pain.

For future reference I will do my best to remember some profound truths.

A. No matter how good the reviews are for a company, assume the company owners paid random family members to be their references.

B. Realize that at least a half of the workers probably have no actual talent or knowledge of the job you are having done but the person in charge hired them off the street corner an hour before they strapped on that tool belt and showed up at your door. I am convinced that anyone can look professional given a great tool belt with DeWalt logos within view. Sadly, looking like a tradesman isn't the same as being a tradesman.

C. When the company you hire says all the right things, makes endless promises and gives you a speedy time line, assume that they are telling you a fairy tale. It's so beautiful when there is a "happily ever after" at the end of the story but it is becoming my experience that the endings usually seem to be similar to a Tim Burton script. We may hope that we are going to deal with a Prince Charming but you might have to deal with someone like Beetlejuice or Edward Scissorhands.

It's not that I don't like the finished product as it pertains to my kitchen, but I am not entirely convinced the juice is worth the squeeze. After every promised timeline that came and went unfinished, I became a little more agitated. THEN, when it finally looked like the kitchen was nearing completion, one of the workers dropped a saw that damaged two cabinet doors necessitating that they go back to the shop to be sanded down and re-finished. Weeks later, after begging and pleading for my cabinet doors to be returned, I was starting to wonder if the doors were never to be seen again. It's not that I had a particular attachment to those specific doors but the idea of trying to get yet another company that could match them seemed like a big pain in the butt. Not to mention, by this time I had already paid for the cabinets to the company that semi-completed the work and currently seemed OK with keeping both my money and my doors.

Up to that point I had been relying on using tact and politeness as my weapons. Clearly that wasn't working. So I toyed with other options.

Option 1 ... Go to the company's listed address and take back what is mine. I decided against this tactic as I realize stealing back what is yours (allegedly) might land you in jail for 9 years before parole comes to your rescue. Jail is for real and we have already talked about this in prior posts. I am not equipped to use a toilet in front of other people. It's what keeps me honest.

Option 2 ... Start getting more forceful with my many, MANY text messages. The last one that I ultimately did NOT send read, "Who must I f*** to get my cabinet doors back?" I hesitated to send this particular message as I was a little on the fence whether a few of those workers might be into that idea. Frankly, at least a couple of them didn't appear like they would to be all that fussy who they might "do".

Finally, I decided to let Hubby take up the gauntlet. He had been working out of town during the whole kitchen redo debacle so I figured he hadn't become as jaded as I was.

Basically, I think he made ONE phone call and demanded that they get off their asses and bring my cabinet doors over ASAP. Had I known it was just a matter of siccing Hubby on them, I would of done that weeks ago.

So, now I am temporarily back to having some control over my time and my activities before the next obstacle comes my way or before I lose my mind and figure out another activity that will stress and annoy me.

BTW...to all the bloggers that I have let down by not keeping up with you. I am going to get to yours sites and see how your doing. Hope all is well and obstacle free.

Nesters and Investors

noreply@blogger.com (Cperz) — Sun, 02 Apr 2017 20:51:00 +0000

A couple of weeks ago, I read a book with the title, House written my Michael Ruhlman. Not a nail-biting-page-turner-can't-put-it-down kind of book for the masses, I suspect. I, however found it very interesting. As I was saying in my previous post, it is the love of houses that keeps me semi-attached to my job as a Realtor. Conversely, it is the dislike of working with crazed buyers and sellers that is accounting for the semi-disconnection to my job. It would make sense for me to put my real estate licenses on hold in the various states to which I am professionally bound, if for no other reason than not having to deal with their yearly renewal processes. BUT, the thing is I continue to love to research the market, see all that is for sale and visit homes. Now you might just think this is me being nosy but it's more than that. I am fascinated with all things dealing with houses and how people connect with them.

Was there a time that bad floor plans redefined cultures?

In the case of Mr. Ruhlman, he tells the story of why he moved back to his hometown of Cleveland from New York City to buy a 100 year old fixer-upper. The book basically is a memoir of how he, his wife, along with their two small children searched for an historic home, lived in the attic for the better part of a year during renovations and the reasons he yearned to do this and why his wife didn't. He admits that he felt something akin to a fish swimming upriver to it's native spawning grounds to get back to the place he grew up in.

Michael had grown up in one home for the 18 years before going off to school, while his wife had moved numerous times with her parents growing up. She hadn't really connected to a place that she considered as "her home town". Clearly these two have different visions of what constitutes a home. In their case, he yearned for a feeling of inclusion to a community. He needed to know the neighbors, be near extended family, and be part of the continuum of his history into the future. His wife wanted a decent house that met their needs and she would of preferred it to be in New York City. She conceded that Cleveland would be a good place to raise their kids.

There often seems to be a huge divide between how people connect to a residence. Some people depend on their home to be their sanctuary, while others merely consider it a stop gap from being caught in the rain. Being emotionally invested to a home is inherently different that residing in house where the scope of your commitment is calling it your "current address".

Often, I can get a sense of how emotionally connected a buyer or seller is to their home within a very short span of time. There are times, however, that people are hard pressed to separate the nostalgia and sentiment of their house from the financial and the investment potential. Most buyers and sellers can claim they are being objective but nearly every sales/purchase transaction has at least some emotional component causing someone to emotionally implode.

Removing outwardly signs of emotional attachments from peoples homes seems to be a trend. When I started real estate, for example, people cleaned their homes, put away the clutter, made some repairs and such to get their home ready to market. Then a couple of decades ago, STAGING happened. At that point people started redecorating their homes prior to selling them so they could get top dollar. To accomplish this they were more concerned with the aesthetics of their house than either the functionality or the preventative maintenance. At that point the flow of the floor plan garnered the same amount of value at the quality of the countertops or the size of the master closet. This process of making homes more impersonal added the extra level of removing personal belonging and any type of personal memorabilia. Photos became verboten.

Yes..the pendulum swung even farther. Now homes are being stripped down to the bones prior to sale because there is a trend that says that buyers need to imagine their own things in a home so the seller must clear out any sign of personalize. Pictures on the wall...heaven forbid! Rooms painted anything other that subtle, trendy colors, don't even think about it! Even furnishings are being sent to storage to make "rooms appear bigger". All of this, of course, is subjective.

Beyond the point of buying or selling though...there seems to be the nesters, investors, and dissenters
, . Sometimes people are both. The nesters of the world, love their homes and continually make them "their own". Now "making them their own" is unique to every person. To a minimalist it may be barren looking to most of us or to a hoarder it may be suffocating to most of us but then it's not really OUR home is it? They don't care if their home appeals to the masses. The investors are more cautious and want their home to appeal to the majority of potential buyers. They make improvements based on possible future buyers than doing whatever they REALLY would love to do to their home. The dissenters don't care about whether their house is their sanctuary nor do they care what someone else thinks of their house either.

Of course, it really doesn't matter how emotionally invested or detached a person is to their residence unless it is colliding with the point of view of the other people that reside in that same residence. OR if they need a Realtor to help them buy or sell their house. In that case. let's try our best to start behaving like investors.

So, my readers...are you a nester, an investor, a dissenter or a combination of two or more of those. Do you love and cherish your home or is it a place to lay your head for now?

Is That Your Home or Is That Your House?

noreply@blogger.com (Cperz) — Sat, 25 Mar 2017 16:43:00 +0000

Shall I bore you with shop talk today? I have been working on a few real estate transactions as of late. As most of my regular readers know, I have been a Realtor for a very long time. In fact, I have all but retired from it at this point. However, every once in awhile, I get a call and can't force myself to say NO. I can only attribute this to, perhaps, the first signs of senility.

Every time I dip my toe into a real estate transaction, it reminds me why people should retire at some point from their jobs. For me it's the blatant reminder how "unfun" the process of dealing with anything linked to banks, large amounts of money and people can be. It could be said that for most people the process of spending or trying to recoup large amounts of money doesn't bring out the best in their personalities.

Plus, a lot of things have changed since I got my first real estate agent's license in the mid-1980s. Most of it "not for the better" as it relates to working in the real estate industry. BUT, I have to say, I still find the topic of homes and how people live in them fairly interesting. I am a sucker for those in our society that still put value in their home for it's sense of well being and security as opposed to just four walls and a roof. After 35 years of doing this, I can quickly size up the "nesters" versus the "residers". How these groups buy and sell homes is decidedly different. (More about that later...just a spoiler alert that will be another post)

Anyway, circling back to my current tasks in real estate, some dear friends are retiring and needed to sell their house to "downsize". This deal was easy-peasy because our friends are sane. I know one shouldn't have to make that distinction but given that most people lose their minds when selling or buying a house, the fact these folks didn't needs to garner your respect and admiration for them. They priced their house well, it was spotlessly clean and they were agreeable, friendly people during the negotiations. Hallelujah!

In one of the other deals in play, the other agent involved called the sellers "salty dogs". Does that give you an indicator how well that is going? But this is the new normal, now. In most deals there is a contentious environment. It's the buyers versus the sellers versus the agents versus the bankers. With all that being said, there are sometimes ineffective real estate agents, (load of them, in fact!) crummy mortgage lenders, dishonest sellers, and naive buyers. There are valid reasons for real estate transactions to be volatile.

As for all of the unnecessary animosity being so common today, it seems to be where society has landed in so many scenarios. Negotiating just seems to have gotten more difficult for people over the years. A common theme seems to be that expectations are set high and willingness to compromise is set low. That seems to be the current trend.

In the dark ages when I began working in real estate, people buying homes were evaluating the "bones" of a house. Prospective buyers would walk through a house and look past any of the decor and contemplate things like the floor plan, number of bedrooms and bathrooms and (most importantly) if the price of the house reflected the quality and condition of the home. There was less emphasis on everything being exactly fine-tuned to the buyer's tastes. Buyers weren't so quick to assume that they were being cheated and seller's didn't seem to be so fixated on getting more than the neighbor down the street because that house didn't have the beautiful custom mural of Augusta National Golf Course in the den. Who wouldn't love that?

Sure there are still some buyers that are willing to take on a fixer upper for the right price. (thank you Chip and Joanna Gains and/or the Property Bros.) but for the most part people want what they want. What they want currently is for everything to be perfect and it probably should include hardwood floors, granite, and stainless steel....oh and they want the house to be a steal of a deal.

Yes, there certainly been a lot of changes in the industry in the 30+ years that I have been involved, Probably two of the greatest impacts would be the Internet and HGTV. It's changed people's expectations on how buying or selling a house should look and feel. It's not quite as fun and entertaining as the house hunting TV shows might imply.

Ultimately, even removing my cynicism and the constant drip of nostalgia that reminds me of an easier time, I do LOVE when people find a home. Not a HOUSE, mind you....but a home. These are two very different things.

To Be Continued....

It Wasn't Curiosity that Killed the Cat

noreply@blogger.com (Cperz) — Tue, 07 Mar 2017 23:21:00 +0000

Brace yourselves! I don't want the shock of seeing a new post from me to cause any cardiac events. Honestly, steady yourselves because with healthcare insurance in a flux, you may or may not be covered.

After a non-stop deluge of activity around here (and none of it particularly exciting) I have a bit of time to chat.

Just to catch you up a bit....we have been on a never ending "remodel" of our house. What started out with the intention of remodeling one bathroom but that quickly morphed into multiple rooms getting a major "redo". Clearly, we are insane.

If my mind and house weren't in enough chaos, we had out-of-town guests for a few days last week. Now...don't misunderstand me! I love having guests. Truly, I do! Just come and visit me and I will prove it to you. BUT...and this is a fairly hefty BUT....it is often hard to entertain people that are very different in their interests and/or tastes than you are. No criticism, you understand. It's just a case of different strokes for different folks.

This became painfully clear last week while trying to entertain people that live very differently in every aspect than we do. That is not to say that their life is any better or worse than ours... but just different than ours. Living in a large metropolitan city of over 3 million people is not everyone's lifestyle choice. I get it!! Traffic, congestion, lack of personal space seems to make people crazy if they are used to rural living. I totally understand that. I have lived in rural areas and small towns and find the peaceful, wide-open spaces wonderful. Unfortunately, if you are staying in my guest room, I can't remove it from the geographical area of Kansas City.

Which is leading me to today's subject. If you were in a new location (even if it was for a few days) aren't you even a least bit curious about "what's things are interesting?", "what is there to do?" or "what is there to eat?" Are you a curious person????

Hubby and I are both major players on team "curiosity". We are the type of people that drive the back roads to wherever we go, pull off the road to read historical markers, and visit museums that no one would actually consider to be a "real" museum. In cities that we are unfamiliar with, we seek out the local points of interest with the same fervor that the FBI tracks down one of the most wanted.

The subject of how different people's level of participation in "things to do and see" became evident recently when we were visiting a local museum here in KC in the River Market part of town. There is a museum here that houses a pre-Civil War steamboat, paddle wheeler (Steamboat Arabia) that was dug up from 45 foot under the Missouri River. It sunk in 1856 while hauling 222 TONS of pre-Civil War goods to towns along the Missouri River. Thanks to the glorious mud that sealed off all manner of air and light, the cargo came up not showing a bit of wear and tear. Well...except for a mule that went down with the ship....he doesn't look quite as good as he did when the boat sank.

Anyhow...as I was saying about people with regards to their level of curiosity...there were a couple of people from New York in the tour that were totally fascinated by the artifacts and asked a lot of questions. (LOVED THEM!) and they mentioned that they had dragged their Kansas City relatives whom they were visiting to see the museum. The Kansas kin folk had never visited the museum and it was apparent to me and anyone that saw them there was a definite lack of enthusiasm on their part for the sight of an enormous paddlewheel that was hauled out of the muck of the Missouri River.

Two days later while we continued to force-feed our guests more KC tourist attractions, we signed up for the Boulevard Brewery tour. AGAIN... I see different levels of enthusiasm among the crowd for drinking free beer. OK...even if Boulevard Wheat or Pale Ale isn't your alcoholic cup of tea...IT's FREE!!! Let's show some enthusiasm, folks.

I realize this need to see all that is to be seen stems from a long line of curious kin folk. You might remember in long ago written posts, that even as a small child riding around on the rear deck of my dad's old car (safety be damned in the 50's and 60's) we stopped to see every Civil War site, haunted house, cave, or "odd" museum that was in the continental U.S. If there was a point of interest to be seen off of some random state highway, it beckoned us to stop and savor it's greatness. There hardly exists a state that I haven't traveled the back roads to see some funky and unusual "claim to fame".

So, my blogger friends...I invite you to come to visit any ole time you want but beware that you will be wrangled into eating at old dive barbecue joints, visit random museums, traipse around Country Club Plaza and you may possibly be forced to drink free beer. Don't say I haven't warned you. I hope you like adventures.

Valentine's Day

noreply@blogger.com (Cperz) — Tue, 14 Feb 2017 17:28:00 +0000

I am a big fan of romance. I swoon over tales of true love and adore tales of happy endings. I delight in hearing people's stories of how they found each other and formed a mutual love. (Sadly...I am also pragmatic and realize that some of those anticipated happy endings didn't always come out the way one would of hoped.) Still....I tend to be a sap for stories of love.

I find it fascinating how miraculous it is that among the thousands of people we have met (or will meet) that we manage to find a person to love and be lucky enough to have them love us back. To be fair, I guess it's not so much luck as it is choosing well. Of course, there might be a bit of luck needed to recognize the person we are choosing, for who they really are.

This morning I was driving to the gym and heard the radio announcer proclaim that today was the most romantic day of the year. Yes, today.... February 14th, ....the pressure is on. We are to dig deep into our hearts (and possibly our wallets) to express our devotion for our mate, partner, husband, wife ....someone???...anyone??????

If you follow all the advertising and marketing...today is the day for a grand gesture. Flowers, candy, jewelry seemingly is the way we are supposed to recognize the amount we are loved. One jewelry store chain comes right out and says that the quality of a diamond is an indicator of your level of devotion. Forty-six (ish) years ago when I chose my engagement ring I was going for beautiful while being "affordable" more than a measuring tool but I might of not been enlighten to how that was supposed to work. My then boyfriend now husband, who was home on leave from the Army probably would of sprung for whatever I chose as his mood was pretty happy to be "home on leave."
Even then, I just wasn't into needing grand gestures.

As with all things.. some of this leaves me a bit conflicted about Valentine's Day. (I'll bet you sensed that already, right???) The romantic side of me likes to think that loving gestures of the "non-purchased" kind are exchanged within couples 365 days a year and that not too much emphasis is put on a person to come up with a "purchased" gesture for a single day.

Not that an occasional grand gesture isn't a great thing but for me when I tell hubby that it really isn't necessary to buy me flowers, (which he is prone to do) candy, gifts or any token of affection...I MEAN it. Seriously, I am not one of those people that say don't and then get pissy because "someone" didn't.

On the subject of Valentine's Day....there is an anti-Valentine's Day contest going on over at Life By Chocolate: Robyn Alana Engel's Blog. It appears that I am not the only one that has some alternative/conflicting thoughts about this holiday. I entered a few cartoons that leaned towards the lesser romantic leanings of the holiday.

Crabby is trying to cut down on her use of bad words.

Soooo...my wonderful readers, I hope you have someone that is worthy of doing a grand gesture for EVEN if it isn't needed or expected. Have a great Valentine's Day.

This is how my other house mate would convey a sweet sentiment.

It's Kind of a Big Deal

noreply@blogger.com (Cperz) — Sun, 29 Jan 2017 17:45:00 +0000

A few weeks ago I was reading an article in USA Today about a survey conducted by the Sesame Street Workshop organization. As I have a vested interest in Sesame Street by the virtue of parking my two children in front of their program pretty much non-stop for the bulk of their pre-school years. (Don't judge me). In my defense, moms in the 1970's were brainwashed into thinking that Mr. Rogers, the Electric Company crew and the cast of Sesame Street would turn our uneducated 3 year olds into reading and spelling prodigies. Who knows??... Maybe my children's later successes are in large part due to the efforts of Big Bird. Sadly, I never sent him a thank you note. Bad manners on my part I suspect. Regret is an evil emotion.

Well...Back to the subject of the survey. Sesame Street is now in it's 47th year and tackling the subject of kindness with an emphasis on empathy. According to the article both teachers and parents are worried that today's kids are growing up in an unkind, unempathetic world. Sesame Street creators are going to try to enlighten the little heathens among us by teaching them how to recognize kindness, emulate it and how they might look at something from another person's point of view.

I have to think that this is a complicated mission. The survey included the opinions of 2000 parents and 500 teachers and there seemed to be a lot of confusion between those surveyed as to what is constitutes kindness. Kindness means different things to different people. There is a lot of gray area between using good manners and truly possessing a generous spirit toward others. If this murky, undefined concept of "what exactly constitutes kindness?" wasn't enough of a hurdle for their survey, there were many that questioned "what is the difference between empathy and sympathy?"

After the survey result were in, Jeffery D. Dunn, the CEO of Sesame Workshop said "This survey confirms our concerns. It is time for a national conversation about kindness."

Jennifer Kotler Clark, a researcher at Sesame Workshop said both parents and teachers overwhelmingly felt that being kind was more important than being academically successful. (Note: Hey kids...try using that line on your parents when you get a bad grade. "Sure I got a D in Algebra but I sure treat my fellow classmates with the utmost respect.")

Kotler Clark went on to say that during the survey they substituted words to represent kindness including empathy, helpfulness, thoughtfulness, politeness, and manners. When asked which is more important manners or empathy, 58 percent of the parents said manners. Katler Clark suggested that maybe parents assume if a child is mannerly that they are also empathetic. Not so fast, she cautioned. Bullies are great at using good manners around adults.

While the parents thought that manners were more important than empathy, 63 percent of the teachers ranked empathy as more important than manners. Only 30 percent of the teachers said that parents are raising their children with values consistent with their teachers. OUCH!! Fifty percent of the teachers surveyed said they felt that being kind is not a top priority. (Did they mean from the perspective of the children, the parents or themselves? Hey teachers!...use complete sentences.)

According to the article, research has proven that self-regulation, and pro-social behaviors in children are a predictor for future health, financial stability, and academic success. Supposedly, kids not only need to see and recognize examples of these types of behaviors but they need to practice them.

Rosemary Truglio said that this year Sesame Street is making kindness a top priority. She said they want to make it more explicit. (I am assuming she means that in a good way.) The show wants to get beyond the niceness of manners. (Although....let's not gloss over that too much...manners matter.)

So what's your thoughts, readers? Is empathy being taken over by narcissism? Are children not seeing and recognizing behaviors that teach them to be kind? Collectively, are we becoming a civilization of people that choose not to care how others feel?

Off to a Slow Start

noreply@blogger.com (Cperz) — Tue, 10 Jan 2017 23:25:00 +0000

New Years Day has come and gone and I have yet to scream and shout at the top of my lungs...how much I want you all to have the BEST YEAR EVER!!!!

So let me do it now. I am screaming it out at this very minute. Can you hear me????

I know a few of my regular readers have mentioned various illnesses, broken bones, ongoing hangovers, incarceration (OK...I might not be entirely clear on that person's excuse).... but all in all... other bloggers seem to have really valid reasons why they haven't posted or read blogs as of late. I, on the other hand, will go with the general "catch all" excuse of being busy. I realize that it's rather vague, unimaginative, and lacking of any detail but it also sounds far better than the words lazy and preoccupied.

Our last house guest left 3 days ago and I no longer get to sit around and talk someone's ear off, ply them with baked goods and haul them around Kansas City in search of the best barbecue joints therefore, I should be getting caught up soon...real soon.

As I am now left to my solo endeavors in a amazingly empty house, I could/should get crackin' on my list of things I resolve to accomplish this year.

I am not a resolution maker per se. BUT....every January I feel the need to reevaluate, reorganize, and continue my quest to find balance in my life and home. Oh yeah.. and let's not forget the all but obligatory.....I resolve to eat healthier and exercise more just like 99 percent of the population will resolve to do.

I don't know why but every New Year I feel a pull within my soul to clean every closet and drawer within the confines of this house and decide what can stay and what must go. It is only after the local charity drop off facility bans me from returning due to their space constraints that I start to feel like I am accomplishing something. Somewhere in my subconscious, it seems, requires that having things tidy at the start of the year gives me a boost for getting the year off to a strong start. I have no proof that it matters but still,.... we annually spend the necessary time to get everything clean and organized in January.

I wish that I could clean up the other messes of the world as easily as a person can clean out a closet and divest it of the old and worn items. I am wanting generous amounts of "shiny and bright" to be infused in all things this year. Did any one else feel like 2016 was lack luster?

Here's hoping for a New Year that has more civility, less violence, more consideration and less contentiousness.

Hope your year is off to a wonderful start! I wish for you shiny and bright!

Maybe Santa Wasn't Watching

noreply@blogger.com (Cperz) — Thu, 22 Dec 2016 15:25:00 +0000

Considering the Christmas season now starts about the time Halloween rolls around, you would think that I have had time to get ready for it, wouldn't you? This point was hit home yesterday when I was talking to a person on the treadmill next to me at the gym. She innocently asked if I was finished getting ready for Christmas. Then she said she was finished in October. In the moment I sort of hated her.

It's not that I haven't been in a flurry of activity for most of November and December but I still have a few things to accomplish. This is the part where I could give you lame excuses about my continued absences of posting to TAOBC. I will spare you the long version and just say that the halls have been decked and the stockings have been hung at this point. It pretty much resembles an explosion of Christmas around here in anticipation of the big day. All but a few gifts are ready and waiting. There will be a mad dash for gift cards for the couple of people that I just can't think of ANYTHING to get them. NOTHING IS COMING TO MIND! For all of you that are judging me harshly, I can live with your scorn.

Aside from my struggles with buying the "perfect" gift, there have been a couple other setbacks. Is anyone else on the verge of a diabetic coma without the component of actually being diabetic? I have been baking up a storm of goodies and have pretty much eaten my weight in English toffee. This is not a good thing. Luckily for everyone involved, family members are due to start arriving tomorrow so I will have to start sharing.

Despite some of the problems, I have made strides this year as far as shopping goes. I have been out and about in the shopping centers and have actually (for the most part) enjoyed it. You might recall that in years past my inner Crabby Pants didn't find the crowds to be one of the great joys of my life.

You long time readers might remember a poem from a couple of years ago that sums up my joy of mall shopping during the holidays. (Isn't nostalgia heartwarming?)

If you are unable to read the print, you should be able to enlarge it by clicking on it.

AND another nice thing that I have noticed. Could it be that this year more people are shopping on line? At least in our area, the traffic is just "medium" crazy not "over the top" crazy. While there is certainly more traffic than usual the closest I have come to a problem is that I about killed Santa Claus. Yes, Santa ran a four way stop in front of me yesterday. He looked to be the real one so I am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt that he has a lot on his mind. The fact that he is driving a little smart car made me kind of feel sorry for him. He looked fairly jolly given the fact he looked "stuffed" into the vehicle. Still...I would hate to have to been the responsible party for running over Santa 4 days before Christmas. I suspect that would really put me on the naughty list.

Besides...I really have to try to be nice to Santa. Leaving him in a smooshed smart car probably isn't the most expedient way to get the things I have asked for this year. (Coordination, increased optimism and the ability to eat non-stop without ever gaining weight are a few of my requests.) I am working very hard to be a more positive person in 2017.

Hope you all are getting close to being ready for whatever festivities you are planning for. OR were you ready in October?

That Time of Year

noreply@blogger.com (Cperz) — Tue, 29 Nov 2016 20:05:00 +0000

Has it really been 3 weeks since I last posted? Shame on me. All I can say for myself is that it is "that time of year".

You know the time of which I speak. In theory it seems that everything should be slowing down a bit as the weather gets colder and the days get shorter. Of course, that is not reality. The reality is that while the days may, indeed, be getting shorter as in "less daylight" but the demands on our time seem to remain ever vigilant. PLUS...holiday preparation rears it's demanding little head, nagging us to be strategically planning for Thanksgiving/Christmas/Hanuka/Kwanzaa and/or whatever holidays you have going for you.

Currently I am sporting a bit of a cynical attitude. ( I know...shocking isn't it?) I am feeling a bit saddened that Thanksgiving got over shadowed by Christmas decorations and the anticipation of Black Friday and Cyber Monday. While this has been going on for several years, it appeared to me that Black Friday is now usurping the whole meaning of Thanksgiving and hogging the month with weeks and weeks of PRE-Black Friday deals and steals.

With all that being said, I am clearly in the minority here with my negativity on the subject. A early analysis of the numbers tells us that 154 million people were out shopping over the weekend. The fact that since all the pre-black Friday advertising began (supposedly) people have spent around 36 Billion (yea...billion with a B) dollars.

I have to think that perhaps I am not alone in my inner conflicts. It seems to me that the whole country talks about the season of love and thankfulness in the same breath as they are spending hours scrutinizing the Internet and paper ads looking for the big bargains that they are hoping to get on more STUFF.

Not to be a total party-pooper, I typically find my holiday spirit in holiday baking, Christmas music, and all the pretty holiday decorations. OH and I do love a lot of the Hallmark Christmas movies. Sure you can say they are sappy, but I think they are sweet. I am prepared to immerse myself into holiday movies to remind me that everything about the holidays is about love and joy and has the added bonus of a happy ending. Not reality you say???

Reality is a thing of the past according to the rise of virtual reality head gear. I was reading an article about the newest techy devices on the market to stream VR programming. Let me be the first to say that I would totally embrace a virtual world where children are awestruck by the lights and sounds of the holidays. I suspect though that just as with many other things, young children are so inundated with the commercialism of Christmas that they no longer even notice how special the decorations are let alone the meaning of it all. The added component of decorations coming out in August (or is it now July?) doesn't help foster awe.

I know this picture is grainy as it is 60 plus years old but this is a picture taken in Kankakee, Illinois. It was, in fact, taken nearly a year prior to my birth but Schuyler Avenue remained pretty much the same through my childhood. I LOVED going Christmas shopping and seeing all the Christmas lights. Sadly, the wreaths that were put on every light pole are not terribly pretty in a black and white photo but to my little child eyes they were magical. It was looking not so differently 17 years later when I got my engagement ring at Edward's Jewelry...also at Christmas time.

Anyway as I was saying...where is the magic? If we now require head gear to live in alternate, virtual reality shouldn't THAT be magical and wonderful???

In the same paper that was talking about the choices we now have for virtual reality head gear there was a separate article about a virtual reality program that allows you to actually feel what it is like to die in a traffic accident. Yeah, how much fun is that? I can hardly wait to ask Santa for some of that escapism....well that is if I can't find it online in a POST Black Friday give away.

The placement of Black Friday being the day after Thanksgiving seems questionable.

Hope you all had a lovely Thanksgiving and have plenty to be grateful for.

Don't Scratch That Itch

noreply@blogger.com (Cperz) — Tue, 08 Nov 2016 00:36:00 +0000

I was reading the USA Today and it said that 52 percent of the US population is experiencing stress related to the election. Really? Only 52 percent? I would of guessed more but then they didn't ask me my opinion. Will anyone other than me, be glad when the election is over?

Although...if I weren't being irritated by the landslide of political ads, articles and junk mail telling me why or why not I should vote for or against someone or something, I don't know what I would fill my time with. I am currently playing on a pretty flat field of "boring". Autumn lull, I guess. I am sure that this post will reflect on just how little is going on in my life right now. Yes, I defy anyone to ask me what I am currently doing for fun and expect an answer anytime soon. If being dull was classified a sport, I am good for the gold.

Autumn around here usually has me working out in the garden getting things pruned, mulched and prepared for the cold weather. The first "freeze" usually arrives around late October. This year, however, the cold isn't anywhere to be seen or felt, as the case may be. Despite the fact, it has been feeling a lot more like summer than fall, the leaves are doing what leaves do this time of year. They are falling by the bushel into never ending piles that regenerate as quickly as I rake them up. In years past, I might say that I enjoy tending to my gardens in the Fall and find a measure of serenity in tidying things up for the winter but this year there is a rub. Actually, it's an itch. A beyond human endurance kind of itch thanks to an infestation of a nasty pests that go by the name oak leaf mites. Often they are called itch mites for obvious reasons.

Over the years, I have come to a certain understanding that Kansas is intent on driving gardeners mad in a number of ways. There are four seasons that are respectively: tornado, flood, drought and blizzard that make growing things a bid tricky here but on top of that, we have a climate where cool weather grasses can't take the summers and the warm weather grasses can't stand the winters. Are you starting to see a bit of a problem with gardening here yet?

Well...there's more. Just when good gardeners have done all they can to to add cubic yards of compost to the clay so they might be able to break ground without the aid of a jackhammer and backhoe, and have planted the short list of plants that can survive, we now are the recipients of an unexpected (and dare I say?...unwelcome) guest....the aforementioned oak leaf mite.

Daily...and I do mean daily..there are articles in the local papers talking about the infestation of these microscopic pests that float through the air and land on people without their knowledge. Four or more hours later the person (or landing strip if you prefer), will find a lot of blistery welts that itch like a mosquito bite times a billion. Yeah, like that.

According to the articles we should cover up our arms and legs, limit our time outdoors, use DEET products liberally and shower immediately after coming indoors. As much fun as all that sounds, none of it is working all that spectacularly. Of course, it's hard to say if the numerous bites that made their way onto our spot-riddled, itchy hides are just from mites or is it a combo pack of chigger bites, mosquito bites and the oak tree mites. They all seem to have had a banner year here.

SOOO..with all that being said, these pests are sucking the joy (and body fluids) out of gardening. The up-tick is that the first hard freeze is supposedly going to take care of them. Should I be happy about their impending demise? Maybe that makes me heartless. It most assuredly makes me less itchy though.

Hope you all are itch free and having fun.

Conversation, May You Rest In Peace

noreply@blogger.com (Cperz) — Fri, 21 Oct 2016 21:20:00 +0000

There seems to be an abundance of talking, texting, and tweeting going on as of late but I can't help but notice how little conversation there is. Frankly, I find it troubling.

As a little girl I spent a lot of time with my paternal grandparents who resided in the South. It was an era when the men would gather at the "filling" station to sit on the bench, drink their Yoohoos and Dr. Peppers and visit...at length. Their conversations were usually pleasant with a lot of head nodding but even when they disagreed, it all seemed friendly enough. Their chats consisted of stories of the past as well as all the current local news. These men stayed friends for life. Maybe all that sharing bonded them in some way. Those that were still living shuffled their way into his funeral.

The act of getting together to visit wasn't solely a male activity back then. This was true for the women as well. Women in that area met for "quilting bees" which was done around a big wooden frame while women hand stitched quilt blocks onto fabric but as they worked they were catching up on all the local stories. I learned a lot about life listening to the chatter.

For example: At one point when I was eavesdropping the conversation was about a lady named Sally that lived down the road. Sally had started a little side business "visiting" with men during the day when her husband was working out in the fields. From the tone of the conversation, I gathered that the women weren't enthusiastically supporting Sally's entrepreneurial exploits. I later asked my grandma why men would want to visit with Miss Sally as she was really scary looking and was minus a lot of her teeth. My grandma assured me that the men weren't paying to look at her face.

Anyway....I come from a long line of people that enjoy just sitting around talking. That would be the long-winded, storytelling, killing time, kind of talking. I am saddened that it is disappearing.

Every now and then I see glimpses of this style of conversation but it's becoming rarer. Usually, I find that conversation, even when spoken out loud as opposed to communicating via devices, it tends to be more likened to a volleying of quips. Not so much expounding on facts or ideas as much as pitching short thoughts at someone while they try to punt their ideas back at you, often while you are still talking.

If you ever have watched the television program, The View, you know what I mean. OR if you watched any of the current political debates, you can see what I am talking about. Basically, it's an auditory assault more than a two way conversation.

Last week was a busy week for me as I had to spend some extra time preparing for the computer class I teach to "senior" seniors. We are currently working on how to use our smartphones and tablets. Part of the struggle of teaching 80 and 90 year olds about this type of technology is trying to explain "why" at their age any of this technology is even worth the effort to learn.

The reason they want to learn it is to stay connected to their families. One gentleman in the class was saying about the time he had developed a great way to communicate with his grandson through emails, his grandson had moved onto texting. The boy now has stated he would prefer chat via text messaging. So Chuck (name changed as he may not want me talking about him) bought an iPhone and now is eager to learn the ins and outs of texting.

My heart breaks. I suggested he trade in his grandson but he seems very attached to the one he has and is willing to become a proficient texter. I asked him the age of this particular grandson and he replied the child is now 18. I hope against hope that this child will grow into a man and sit down with his grandfather to talk. I, of course want for them to have REAL lengthy conversations that grandson can reflect on when he is in his 80s. Is that too much to ask?

Frankly, I am tired of the art of talking being reduced to status updates. I am prepared to blame both Facebook and Twitter for their part in turning the tide on the old relaxed give-and-take style of talking to this "one sided" launching of words into the territory of someone else's "one side" launching of words. One could always hope that at some point the ideas land together in some meaningful way to form a conversation.

BUT...technology conspires against those of us that long for lengthy, wordy, descriptive talk fests. Just as Chuck's grandson many people have embraced a text only lifestyle that is reduced to shorthand, abbreviated words or even worse.... communicating with emojis. Take for example: Recently a car company conducted a customer satisfaction survey but asked the participants to answer only in emojis. They have a commercial that shows a portion of this survey as well. Visualize me having a sad face.

If I wasn't already a bit peeved at the current lack of expansive and civil conversation, yesterday I received an email from Twitter. It asked me if I know how to Tweet. I could think that their comment sounded a bit accusatory but they aren't entirely wrong. While I am surprised that they have missed seeing my tweets among their millions of users, they seem to have grasped part of the problem with me and Twitter. I just don't "get" it.

I must not be alone in this, though, because I was just reading an article that said 60 percent of people that signed up for Twitter never used it past trying a tweet or two. I initially thought I would be great at Twitter as I am somewhat a twit but it didn't take me long to realize that I am not great a keeping within the bounds of 140 characters. Nor am I particularly great at coming up with hilarious one liners at a moment's notice. I am failing at Twitter. I may never actually accomplish a Twoosh (a perfect 140 character Tweet but remain secure in my belief that it doesn't make me less of a person.)
I am willing to confess that I am challenged to say what I want to say when given a mandated character count.

A Twoosh is a Tweet that is exactly 140 characters long.

But that brings me back to my class of seniors that want to board the Facebook and Twitter train thinking that it's taking them someplace fun and relevant. In my heart of hearts, I think that they have far more to teach the techies than the techies have to teach them.

I hold out hope that lengthy conversations where people share thoughts without getting indignant, offended or feel the need to over-talk each other makes a comeback. Imagine my happy face.

I Feel Your Pain

noreply@blogger.com (Cperz) — Wed, 12 Oct 2016 18:55:00 +0000

Last week I was meeting a friend for breakfast and we got into a conversation about what situations we deem as our idea of hell. No, we weren't talking about LITERAL hell but we were talking FIGURATIVE hell. So just to be clear...for purposes of this post, I am not thinking that our afterlife or lack thereof, is based on my rantings over an egg white and veggie omelet at the First Watch restaurant.

How we meandered into the HELL conversation was due to the fact that I mentioned that I had gone to the Department of Motor Vehicles earlier in the week. My breakfast buddy didn't seem to think this was the most fun a person could have on any given day. As "fun" goes it probably doesn't make most peoples top 10 or even 50 but for me, it's not the worst way to spend the day.

I have become fairly proficient (if I do say so myself) maneuvering most of the bureaucracy that plagues our everyday existence. I have to admit that probably the 21 corporate moves has provided me with abundant learning opportunities for dealing with all the obligatory things required to "settle in" into any state, county, municipality, or city. I have on numerous occasions walked through the maze of required paperwork required of me to sign in, sign up, pay up, register, join and generally be accountable to all the parties that seem to need me in their databases. This is never a short list.

Well...it appears that maybe in this one current incident my proficiency level dipped a bit.

Remember last month...we were talking about me getting a new vehicle. Now I know that most of us probably don't remember the un-fun components that go with buying a car because we are so intoxicated with the "new car smell" and the shiny, pre-dinged doors. It's only after the fact when you get the papers in the mail that require you to haul ass down to the DMV to pay your various taxes, transfer your plates, and get the title work done. These are the things that would keep 99 percent of the population from even considering buying a new car if only we remembered how brutal the paperwork part of the car buying process is. This might be more true for those of us that live in states that pay Personal Property taxes on our vehicles.

The fault of my being less than efficient on this particular go round of bureaucracy though, isn't 100 percent my fault. Since I last had to go to the DMV it has moved from one building into 2 separate buildings. It's kind of like those stupid department stores that have a women's store and a men's store...only this time I couldn't easily tell the difference between the two "stores" so to speak. Without a he or she shoe store to scream out that I am in the wrong store..really who can tell?

As I figured I had a 50/50 shot...I went to the closest Dept. of Motor Vehicles and was told after waiting in line for quite awhile that I was in the wrong building and needed to drive 4 miles on down the road. They did suggest in a very pleasant helpful tone (NOT) that I should call ahead and get a place in the queue. As I am a model for "follow the rules" type of human being, I called only to be told that the queue was full for the day and to call back when it was convenient. There were no places left in line for me, it appeared.

Anyway...I was not to be deterred. I figured I had a good book in the car that I was planning on reading during my visit to the DMV when I was still naive enough to think I would have a place in line, so I was prepared to act stupid and do a walk in. Why not, I say to myself? Surely not everyone in Johnson County Kansas knows that you have to call in to get your place in line.

So I just high tail it over to the 2nd DMV and walk in. There before me is a "take a ticket" machine. I don't know about the rest of the world but I take that as an implied promise that I will get waited on eventually. Surely they wouldn't give me a ticket if they were never going to call the number. Am I right???

At this point it is around 10 AM and I figure that I can hang out all day if necessary.But...judging from the board I should be out of here by mid-afternoon. Really, how long can it take to wait on 224 people before its my turn.

At that point in time, I was still feeling pretty optimistic that I was just a mere 4-ish hours from being 100 percent in compliance with all things DMV related on my new car. In fact, I was rather pleased at how things seemed to be going. Take that, electronic queue placer!

The thing about me and lines is that I don't mind them at all because I am the kind of person that mysteriously draws people to tell me their life stories. I am not exaggerating this "talent" of mine in the slightest. People love to tell me everything about their personal lives.

I no sooner sat down than a man sat next to me asking about how much longer till my number was going to be called. Of course, upon hearing 4+ hours, he realized he had plenty of time to tell me his entire life story. He's been married to his high school sweetheart for 26 years, got her pregnant when she was 15, married her when she turned 18, they now have 6 children and 3 grandchildren, he owns several boats, lives on acreage, owns his own construction company.....and on and on. You get the picture.

I often think the reason that people tell me EVERYTHING isn't so much as I am a great listener (although that is totally true) it's because I am a super great commiserater. (which may or may not be a real word...but stick with the idea here) I can empathize, console, support, "feel your pain" and short of me being able to absolve you from any wrong doing, I am here for you.

If you really need to unburden yourself from all your bad life choices and rejoice in all the things you have done right...I am your person. Whether you choose to do this at the DMV, that's up to you but I am available there occasionally for considerable time periods.

OH and BTW...I got waited on at 4:35. Done and done. Some of the time persistence is the clear winner.

Moving Forward

noreply@blogger.com (Cperz) — Tue, 04 Oct 2016 19:12:00 +0000

I was driving to the gym the other morning and heard the last part of a radio talk show that was discussing a recent study about the differences between men and women drivers. Unfortunately, I missed the beginning of the program where someone might have told me who, in particular, conducted this study. As many of my longer-term readers have concluded, I have become a tad (or profusely, you be the judge) cynical over the years and have come to the opinion that studies are rarely believable. I think my mistrust of various polls, surveys, and studies took a real hit when the Gallop Poll people got routinely replaced by Survey Monkeys. I just really have a hard time believing statistics brought about by something (at least in my mind) as being conducted by pollster monkeys as being all that accurate.

Anyway...this study supposedly said that women were generally safer drivers than men. That isn't exactly news as most studies say that. It's just most MEN don't say that. Statistically, men get more tickets and cause more accidents than the stereotypical "bad" women driver. Hey, guys...I'm just the messenger here. Take it up with the researchers. (NOTE: There are a few polls that say women drivers are far worse but the ones that determine insurance rates beg to differ.)

But, I digress...the study the radio host was talking about did point out a couple of interesting facts.
That while men are more aggressive drivers and take more chances resulting in them not faring optimally in terms of tickets and crashes they do better in other categories. In particular the study says that men are more PROFICIENT drivers when it comes to actually maneuvering a vehicle.

In this study it showed that women are very poor parallel parkers. Turns out that male drivers (allegedly) have better spacial perception than women do. Actually, I don't know about other women in general but this SO applies to me.

I don't know where it all went wrong...there was a time that I could parallel park a car in uncannily small spaces. My first car was a Chevrolet Nova and I could park that car with just inches of dead space in front and behind other cars and do it quicker than the person behind me had time to mouth any disparaging "women driver" comments. Sadly, those days are long gone.

I don't really know what happened. Perhaps the infrequency of having to parallel park caused me to lose my mojo or maybe the fact I have been driving SUVs for a number of years and no longer have any notion of where my back end is. The fact is, I consider myself a pretty respectable driver as long as my transmission is in D. The R is a little more problematic for me.

Which in a round about way is where I am driving to.... topic wise. I decided I needed a vehicle with a rear-view camera in it.

A few weeks ago, I went in to get an oil change. For most families this is a routine task that rolls around every 3000-6000 miles or so depending on your vehicle, I guess. On our vehicles it's 3000. The maker of our cars is one that provides free oil changes and routine maintenance for 10 years so I am pretty diligent to go in and take advantage of their generosity.

In my case, however, I have now on four occasions over a number of years taken my car in for it's maintenance and came home driving a new car. Don't get me wrong, I don't trade cars all that often but when I do it seems to always be when I am sitting in the customer service lounge at our car's dealership, while my car is getting it's multi-point lube and tire rotation.

Last week, while my now ex-car was in spending part of it's afternoon on a hoist getting whatever it needed, I was drooling over the new model of my SUV and was thinking that the back up camera was nearly worth the price of the car. As you might imagine, the salesman who knows me by my first name (and at this point, probably the birth dates of my children) came over with visions of a commission check floating in his head, said something to the effect of there being "incentives" to buy NOW.

Clearly, I am a salesperson in my own right so I am immune to most of the sales jargon but that computer screen in the dash and alloy wheels were throwing me off my game.

After a little of the salesman doing the dance and me doing the counter-dance, I drove the car home to show it to hubby.

Have I mentioned lately that NOTHING I do surprises or for that matter, upsets hubby. The man has ice water running through his veins in term of remaining cool and calm. Totally unphased by my antics. BUT he does have reasons to be on his toes when it comes to me bringing vehicles home.

Prior to this most recent purchase, the last SUV that I bought while getting an oil change was a "present" for him. Hubby was out of town and I was sitting waiting on my car to come down off the lift when an "older" women brought back her SUV claiming it was just too big and she wanted something smaller. She had put 88 miles on it but now the dealership was going to have call it a "pre-owned" car. I smelled a deal.   Like a shark smelling chum, I asked the sales guy how much would come off the list price

Now you all know that the first words out of any car salesman's mouth is the classic "I have to go talk to the manager." Total crap...he knows what his margin of profit has to be and how desperate he is to meet his quota that day but I'll dance the dance. So while he is probably in the back room talking about how the Royals are doing, I am calling husband asking what he thinks the lowest possible number would be to get a super sweet deal. on a current year SUV with 88 miles on it. Between us we came up with the most insulting offer two people could possibly devise.

Salesman comes back with "the manager's best-he-can-do" offer...which isn't nearly the best I am willing to do, so I shoot the sales guy the really horrible "are you kidding me?" offer that hubby and I came up with. His eyes rolled back into the sockets of his head, so I was pretty sure that one wasn't going to happen. Well...after numerous trips back to talk to his manager along with various accusations that I was probably going to cost him his job....I did buy the car.
Here's the problem though! It was a really rainy, cloudy day in Kansas that day. AND I swear to you that that SUV was a SILVER color. BUT when I got it home it had a tinge ...OK, OK maybe a bit more than a tinge, of blue to it. Now that isn't the worst thing in the world, I suspect .....but I had told my out-of-town hubby over the phone that his new vehicle was silver...no mention of blue. I knew that he was going to be less than enthusiastic about a light-ish blue-ish silver kind of SUV. As it turned out he was totally unphased. It could be that he drove it mostly on cloudy days but I can't say for certain. Luckily for him, we have long cloudy winters here.

Back to the current situation. After coming home with the "might be ours" car which was also a silvery kind of color, I probably shouldn't of been surprised that hubby wasn't overly excited. I am thinking he was beyond taking another chance that the sun would come out and we would have another light blue car. So we both went back and picked out a color called White Pearl with a lovely back up camera built into a lovely little computer screen so that in the future I might know where my back end is. That is a wonderful thing.

To be continued ....HELL at the DMV

Luck, Chance or Happenstance

noreply@blogger.com (Cperz) — Wed, 28 Sep 2016 16:10:00 +0000

As luck would have it...I'm back.

Things have quieted down a bit since I last posted. The remodel (as previously discussed in Closed for Renovation) is now completed and allowing a much quieter atmosphere in which I can think....for now. As is always the case, one improvement has led to us thinking another few remodeling "tweaks" need to happen. There is no end to the madness.

ALSO, since you and I last spoke...hubby and I celebrated our 45th wedding anniversary. Yeah!!! Crazy!! Who says that teenage marriages are a bad idea? OK...possibly everyone. I see that.

Which brings me to the subject for the day. LUCK...is it real? Given my past post, If You Knew My Story, you wouldn't probably think of me as a lucky person. I, however, do feel extremely lucky and I am not alone in this. According to a recent poll done by CBS News, 71% of people polled consider themselves lucky as well.

BUT..as with pretty much EVERYTHING...I am conflicted about what parts of my (or your) life are a result of luck as opposed to fate, or destiny or the result of our actions and efforts. How much of our life's outcome is just a result of being in a particular place at a particular time? Even then you would have to question, how did you come to be in that place at that time? Was it chance, or luck or destiny?

I was recently watching a segment of CBS Sunday morning that was about the "science" of luck. Susan Spencer interviewed 4 people that have various takes on "random luck" versus "taking control of one's life". Three of the four interviewed guests talked about "controlling" your luck in various forms. One alluded to the use of "lucky charms" or superstitions such as "See a penny, pick it up, all the day, you'll have good luck.". Another discussed how he creates algorithms to insure positive outcomes and yet another talked about having a optimistic attitude" as a sure-fire way to bring about good luck. The 4th person interviewed, however, said life is all intrinsically arbitrary.

On the CBS program Dr. Mazur pointed out that the sometimes a random act by one person defines the luck of another. He gave an example of a book, Fieldwork, that was written by Mischa Berlinski that was doing OK (not great) when Stephen King (yes, that Stephen King!) picked it up in a Barnes and Noble and was quoted in Entertainment Weekly saying "This is the great American novel." The book ended up being a finalist in the National Book Award. This same set of circumstances could be attributed to every author the Oprah touted as being the "must read". How lucky for them for her to touch them with her magic success wand. Well...Maybe not so much James Frey. She did, in fact, touch his "A Million Little Pieces" book with her success wand but then beat him over the head with it on national TV for taking creative liberties with his memoir. I guess that is "good" luck that goes "bad".

Of course, there are theories that nothing is "luck". It's more about each of us sending out positive energy into the universe with our optimism. According to Rhonda Byrnes, the author of The Secret,
our luck..good or bad...is on us. According to her, we just have to concentrate, visualize and remain positive in our goals and they will come.

I have to tell you that when I was forced to watch the movie along with nearly every other corporate worker whose employer felt the need to shovel positivity down our throats, I thought I potentially would be fired due to my involuntary gasps of "are you shi**** me?" during it's run. I seriously considered asking for workman's compensation for the eye strain resulting from the excessive need to roll my eyes when the part of the movie showing a guy sitting in the Bark-o-lounger who was conjuring up his expensive new sports car.

I realize I am not the most "positive" minded person in the world but perhaps my pragmatism counters that a bit.

Clearly, I don't believe my good fortune is product of my sending positive thoughts out into the universe but I appreciate all those that look at life as one big hugfest singing Kumbaya around their metaphorical campfire. Probably can't hurt, right?

Still...there is no way to know why things happen as they do. What's your thoughts? Do you consider yourself lucky? Or is your good fortune due to your good choices or hard work? Is fate predetermined and out of our control? Does your free-will alter the outcome?

The Positive Side ot Obsolescence

noreply@blogger.com (Cperz) — Tue, 20 Sep 2016 14:02:00 +0000

I was reading an article this morning in the USA Today about all the ageism problems in Silicon Valley. According to the article, while the median age of working Americans is 42, the median age over at Facebook is 29, at Google and Amazon it's 30, at Apple it's 31 and at Microsoft it's 33. It might not surprise you to know that since 2008 150 of the top tech companies have been sued 226 times in age-related discrimination lawsuits.

In the article, there is a comparison of modern employment opportunities for anyone over 30 to Logan's Run, a sci-fi movie about a futuristic society in which life ends at 30. That idea was underscored in 2007 when Mark Zuckerberg at 22 told an audience at Stanford University the "Younger people are just smarter...why are all chess masters under 30?"

WHOA!!! That surely wasn't the most intelligent thing to say and I have to assume he is even less intelligent today at 32 (according to his wisdom).

Why should I care, you ask? What does it matter that Google or Microsoft muckity-mucks consider me to be a dinosaur? It's not that I was planning on job hunting anytime soon as I discussed in a previous post The Tough Questions. I happen to be quite content with my current state of flux between unemployment and pseudo-retirement. That pesky problem of not knowing which box to check on questionnaires as to my state of employment isn't going to be solved until survey creators add a box marked "uninspired" or "unmotivated".

But still... articles like that one in USA Today make my aging brain think maybe I should be checking Consumer Reports on the "recommended" walker that I surely will need sooner rather than later. (Yes, for those of you keeping track, that is the same brain that has taken up swearing.)

As it happens, a lot of things have been cropping up lately to reinforce in a rather nasty way, that I am getting (or have gotten) old. I guess the verb tense would be dependent on my level of pragmatism any given day.

BUT there seems to be an upside to going over the hill. Free or discounted stuff! Yes, who knew that there was a financial boost to becoming old? For the last couple of years there isn't a day that goes by, that we don't get some offer in the mail, or some "unknown caller" type of phone call and even a random e-mail (or 6) offering us some type of product or service that makes promises to us that our golden years can be blissful and worry free if we would only buy their product or service. AND if old age related bliss weren't enough.... through their extreme generosity they will provide us a complimentary meal. After which, we get to hear a spiel about the aforementioned bliss inducing product or service. No pressure...just like any other date where there is an expensive dinner involved. (What? Not even a kiss???)

All of this has me wondering, though. How is it that all these companies know our ages? Is there some mass mailing sent out by the Social Security dept. that gives the name and phone number of every poor slob in America that is turning 62? That surely is the case because there seems to be a lot of eager people trying to get my attention as of late. I have to assume it isn't my winning personality that is causing them to reach out to me.

DAILY..and I am not exaggerating here...I get offers of free dinners at local restaurants (for two) for coming in and learning more about estate planning, drawing social security, or learning more about my medicare options. I find that very interesting (ironically so) that while I seemingly can RSVP to eat my supper gratis at the Cheesecake Factory and learn all about Social Security...I can't actually make an appointment at the Social Security office. They don't seem nearly as eager to share my company as ABC Financial Planners are.

While I haven't taken advantage of cashing in on any of these offers of free meals, theater tickets, or assorted "exclusive offers just for me!" enticements... I am considering my options. A good friend of mine and I have been talking about having a free evening out every week from here till death and calling it part of our retirement plan. But, sadly as I am still very wishy-washy about if I am retired, unemployed or just pathetically lazy, I haven't started my free meal plan quite yet.

I did however, come to the point after I turned 62 when I thought I might go in to talk to someone and ask some questions about when I might want to start drawing my social security. After a 4 month wait, I did manage to get an appointment. Of course, that turned out to be a bit of a tricky situation because the man wanted to know if I was retired. Not that a person needs to be retired to draw their Social Security but you do have to limit your earnings. Again, the problem for me is explaining myself. When I say things like "When you say "retired" do you mean "figuratively" or "literally?" That response just seems to confuse people.

Anyhow...a year ago hubby and I thought we would get a head start learning about our options for Medicare as hubby was approaching the time that he could unload his pricey individual medical insurance and take advantage of Medicare. While Medicare isn't free it's about 1/10th the cost of individual insurance. Kaching, Kaching!! With this in mind, we decided we would make an appointment to go in to ask about our future Medicare options. But to our shock and awe.... NO APPOINTMENTS AVAILABLE...none....ever.

When I mentioned this to a neighbor that is a couple of years older than me, she said she started a year in advance in setting up a face-to-face appointment as someone told her it's like planning a wedding. If you want to book the venue (and in this case, I am talking about a chair in front of a Social Security clerk) you have to start early and be diligent. Since I had only allowed 4 months, I was SOL on actually securing my spot. Even my numerous tries calling into the 800 number to gain a coveted chair to talk to a real person were met with failure. They did mention numerous times that I could sign up online which is obviously the way to go. It's not like you get a choice so there is that way .....or yeah...that way. Really, it's not difficult to sign up of Medicare online but gawd forbid if you aren't clear on the A,B, C, D,'s of it all.

I figure by the time I am actually eligible for Medicare, I will have it figured out. How hard can it be?

Again with the mail, phone calls and emails offering us free information. This time, however, there was an added element. We started receiving envelopes and cards that looked "official". Mail started arriving in envelopes that appeared to come from the Federal Government with documents to fill out that looked amazingly "important". Luckily for me, I have super powers.

I also can read amazingly small print that says "this is not affiliated to the government"

So....while most days I feel like I am a 30ish year old caught up in an older body, I only have to go to my mailbox for a clear reminder that I won't ever get a chance to work in Silicon Valley....but at least my disappointment will be offset by a free meal at Outback while some Long Term Health Care specialist tells me how blissful my old age is going to be.

Still... I can only hope I live long enough for Zuckerberg to have to try to make an appointment to find out about his Medicare...or Mdca.

(Note to my Canadian, UK and any International readers...Hope I didn't lose you on the Social Security or Medicare discussion. Do you have some bureaucratic equivalent that you need to take care of at retirement age?)

A Swear Jar Would Bankrupt Me

noreply@blogger.com (Cperz) — Sun, 11 Sep 2016 19:41:00 +0000

OK...maybe that title is a bit of a stretch because I don't actually go around the house swearing non-stop or anything.... BUT...I certainly have lowered my standards as far as NEVER saying bad words to being very liberal in both thought and deed.

I don't think I am alone in my increasing liberal attitude toward swearing. As a culture that first heard the F word used in a mainstream movie in 1971 (M.A.S.H.) we have progressed (maybe progress isn't the right term) to the current likelihood of watching any cable television show that has at least one "four letter" word inserted pretty much in every sentence. It appears that the general public has collectively become more tolerant of naughty words.

So, while I don't presently have a swear jar, if my attitude keeps on it's current trajectory from tentative tolerance to active acceptance, and now heading into the realm of enthusiastic participant...one might say the future is going to require some measure of self-control on my part.

As I see it, this propensity of mine for getting more comfortable with being a potty mouth might, in fact, require a swear jar. With my ever optimistic attitude, I can always tell myself that while my decorum is going downhill, it may in fact allow for a nice vacation sometime in my future. OR... I could use my jar as a Christmas Club Account and have my holiday fully funded by Thanksgiving. (Given the fact, there is a major election between now and then, I really need to have a plethora of loose change around to fund my jar.)

If I am being honest, though...currently it's not so much as I SAY all that many bad words out loud as much as I think them. My brain, it seems, is getting more and more short tempered on a myriad of subjects but my mouth seems to mostly remain aware of it's surroundings. In most cases, as a matter of respect to those around me, I try not to appear as if I have Tourette Syndrome as this would be blatantly unfair to those that actually have that disorder. There is the nagging reality, that I should be able to control my language.

I will confess that the National Nightly News is just bringing the worst out in both my brain and my mouth. Hardly an evening goes by without me hemorrhaging four letter words in retaliation for the idiocy of our assorted leaders, or would-be-leaders, or people in leadership roles that can't lead....or just people in the news that generally piss me off.

Of course, I can, justify some of my brain's use of bad language. I was recently reading a couple of book reviews. !n Pr@ise *f Pr#fanity, by Michael Adams and What The F, What Swearing Reveals About Our Language, Our Brains and Ourselves, by Benjamin K. Bergen. Both authors seem to be very "pro obscenity". After reading excerpts from both books, I am (according to them) doing my body a real service by swearing. Of course, it really doesn't address the "thinking" bad words versus "saying" bad words but I am prepared to take any and all of the perceived positive effects and call it good. Both authors point out the cathartic nature of swearing, so I am, in essence, by swearing striving for total calm in my life.

I am sure you have heard people say that swearing is the lowest form of communication and only those with limited vocabulary feel compelled to use foul language. I believe neither of those statements to be true. (My brain just said, "F*** them.") I believe the real reason that swearing became popular was while there is an unlimited supply of words to convey information, there needed to be words that would convey EMOTION. Of course, that doesn't necessarily hold true in today's use of swear words. Now it seems we swear just...well...just because mostly everybody does. A lot of once taboo words have become "conversational" as opposed to "controversial". Really...when you think about it...a word is only considered bad if the person hearing it, is offended by it. SO...if I swear with words you are comfortable with, we are just two people talking. If I say words that offend you then you will deem me as "foul mouthed". It boils down to everyone having to size up their audience.

Take for example: Yesterday, I was having lunch with a good friend. My friend is older than I am (I think she is in her late 70s) and I have for the most part curbed my use of colorful language around her because I sensed that she wasn't the type of person that would be open to me or my brain tossing 4 letter words randomly into our conversations. As for this particular friend, she is very political which is tricky for me NOT to throw in a lot of obscene words while talking about either of the current candidates for President.

Anyway, my friend was telling me that she was having some problems with the new car that she bought about a week ago. The car comes with a built in navigation system. Upon driving the new car, she realized that the "GPS girl" wasn't talking so she called OnStar to find out if there was a setting to turn on the sound. I gather that the OnStar person could do that from afar but the problem was that once it was turned on, the "GPS girl" talks REALLY, REALLY loud and my friend couldn't figure out how to turn the volume down. So she called back to get help in a hurry before her eardrums exploded. After several minutes of trying to explain to the OnStar rep what the problem was she finally resorted to saying, "Can you get this bitch in the box to shut the hell up?"

If you think about it, (and I am sure this is keeping you up at night) vulgar words always were comprised by four categories, A. Sexual activities or sexual organs B. Religious concepts C. Bodily Functions and D. Denigrating social or ethnic groups. In many instances the words associated with the first 3 categories have been reduced to fairly commonplace while the 4th category has probably become even more offensive over time. (Thankfully...we aren't heathens after all....at least most of us.)

I did find a few interesting facts when I was reading various articles about the evolution of swearing in preparation to this post. That there was a time when swearing was a sign of social stature and power. Makes sense that people in power positions can get by with being profane while lower classes or people in vulnerable positions have to mind their p's and q's. Take for example: I doubt that any of King Henry VIII's wives told him to F*** off but he probably deserved that and worse. (I assume this is the case for at least for Catherine, Jane, Anne of Cleves, and Katherine got to keep their heads...intact.)

Henry the VIII deserved some outbursts but perhaps didn't get them.

So, do YOU ever swear? Are you more tolerant of others that do, as it becomes more prevalent in our society?

Closed for Renovation

noreply@blogger.com (Cperz) — Thu, 01 Sep 2016 18:17:00 +0000

Have you noticed that my timeliness for posting over the weekend has gone off the tracks? (If you said no, consider me offended that you hadn't missed me but moving on...) I do have excuses and the major one is that I have lost my mind along with the capacity to articulate rational thoughts or ideas. (AND...if you said to yourself "didn't she always have trouble articulating rational thoughts and ideas?...again I am offended.)

For the last couple of weeks, I just can't seem to get my act together.
Here's the thing about me....When everything is going really well and life seems to be smoothly humming along, I (apparently) feel the need to park a truck full of chickens on the train track of my life just to watch chicken poop fly about when the train hits it. I am currently mired in metaphorical chicken poop.

Last week, when I was talking about my long term love/hate relationship of my job as a Realtor, I failed to mention that when it comes to buying houses, I am, in fact, the world's worst customer and consumer. Fussiest person ever as far as picking out a house and invariably, whatever house I choose will become a money pit. I have proved this tenancy numerous times. The very house that had me ooohhhing and aahhhing at first sight, will mysteriously need a complete remodel the minute I move into it.

While I have proven this over and over again during our 21 moves, the most recent example started about 12 years ago, while living in Dallas, Texas. During that time, our daughter was planning her wedding and hubby and I were routinely making the 8.5 hour trip between Dallas and Kansas City for various wedding and daughter related events. While I don't specifically remember how the conversation of "Let's move to Kansas City!" came about it probably went something like this.

Well...besides the pleading being done by our yet-to-be-born grandsons, we were possibly feeling rather vulnerable at both the prospect of our little girl being all grown up and about to be married and the evaporation of our checking account due to the impending nuptials. Somewhere in our fuzzy brains we actively began a plan of relocation. We, of course, didn't ask our son-in-law-to-be his opinion on this matter as he might of reconsidered the whole idea of marrying our daughter. Who knows if hubby and I might be his "deal breaker" and didn't want to put it to a test as we had already paid for the wedding venue. Anyway...We just forged ahead and found a Kansas City Realtor to start looking around for a house that would "work" for us.

As a Realtor, I recognize these "dipping their toes in the water just to test the temperature" types are a colossal pain in the ass for real estate agents, however I was committed to be exactly that for some unfortunate soul that had the misfortune to pick up the phone when I called into a real estate agency.

From that point onward, every trip we made to KC, we asked to see several homes in various neighborhoods to get a "feel" for where we wanted to live. Now, I am sure you can imagine how well this plays out for some agent to have numerous (and by that I mean too many to count) weekends taken up while someone is using them for a chauffeur and sounding board for a future move that may or may not happen any time soon...and agents get to do this for free because they work solely on commission. Yeah, sounds like a perfect job, right???

Well..our agent, Debra started out fairly agreeable only to be worn down little by little over the course of mid 2004 into early 2005. We weren't purposefully trying to be difficult (it comes pretty natural for us without trying) but it was such a hot seller's market at the time, that by the time something came on the market and we drove 8.5 hours to see the house, invariably it had already sold. The ones that didn't sell the minute they were listed had a REASON they hadn't sold.

Finally in early 2005 we happened upon a house that had some things going for it. It was on the market only 1 day, was amazingly clean, and was the size and price that was in our wheelhouse.

Debra who by this time could nearly smell the money of her commission finally wafting in her general direction thought that her payday was close at hand. Not so fast, Debra. After putting in a full price offer, the sellers decided perhaps they had listed too low. I mean...really...if there were buyers that would pay full price for it after one day, surely the sellers could of gotten more. So...these sellers being sellers, AKA greedy, countered the offer for MORE than the asking price. Me...being me, AKA stubborn...and being a real estate agent myself, didn't take this laying down. I said NO. My thought was that there was no way in hell that I was willing to pay more than asking price with no other offers on the table. I figured in a city of 2.5 million people there had to be at least one other house that I would like, even if it took another year to track down. Of course, when I mentioned this out loud, Debra turned an odd shade of green and actually swayed a little bit. I thought she was going to faint but as luck would have it, the sellers conceded to sell for their original price.

Back to my theory that homes are only perfect until you own them....In the last 10 years, every single year we have done a MAJOR renovation and/or improvement of some type. I don't think I am alone in this phenomenon but it appears that the same buyer that claims any house to be PERFECT when initially looking at a prospective home will, in fact, need to change EVERYTHING about it once the closing documents get signed.

Walls have been removed, floors have been replaced, rooms have been gutted and reborn in somewhat the same manner as a Phoenix but in our case the new Phoenix is rising from the ashes of our money.

As for our current craziness...a couple of weeks ago I had this utterly brilliant idea that one of the bathrooms needed freshened up with some new flooring and paint. ANY one that knows me at all, of course, knows that the words "freshened up" is code for "take this sucka down to the studs".

One advantage (and maybe the ONLY advantage) of being a real estate agent is that we know a lot of contractors, plumbers and electricians. This expedites the time it takes from "brilliant idea" to "let's get crackin'"

One of the guys that has done previous work on our mission of tearing down and rebuilding our house bit by bit, had mentioned he had a window of availability in late August, early September to do this project. I am fairly secure in telling you that 5 days into this remodel, he is fervently wishing he had never EVER met me.

Why, you ask? Because hubby and I are total nut jobs when it comes to these renovation projects. Poor, Kyle the general contractor of this "freshening up" project is learning fairly quickly that whatever he listed on the quote needs to be tweaked a bit.... AND by a bit I mean changed in it's entirety.

Now that we have added a few (OK maybe more than a few) items to the "to do" list, Kyle realizes that he vastly underestimated both the amount of time and money that he needs to allow for. I recognize the poor guy is exhausted at this point but I just can't seem to help myself from adding or changing the scope of the project daily. Honestly, he should appreciate that he wasn't here for the master bathroom remodel. On that one, my husband decided to have the contractor remove a wall that opened up into attic space so the walk-in shower could be enlarged. I am not at all sure that Kyle can appreciate the fact that I have not asked him to tear down any walls...yet.

I have to say there is quite a lot of stress deciding on materials, colors and quality when it comes to bathroom and kitchen remodels. Hence the craziness on my part. While you might not be losing sleep at night thinking about the pressure of flush toilets or the depth of soaking tubs but believe me those are REAL concerns. Do not under estimate the difference between Cararra Marble counter tops and quartz that look like marble. Soft close drawers and non-slam toilet seats are a "thing" and it would appear that those are things I need.... OK, maybe need is a strong word...but Kyle can make those things happen.

Perhaps, some of you that have already taken on bathroom remodels might already know about "golf ball" flushing toilets but I was clueless until recently on this important feature. While shopping for new toilets, I realize that a whole line of toilets claim that they are capable of flushing an entire bucket of golf balls in a single flush. I know...I know...you might not ever NEED to flush golf balls but the fact that it is possible to do it if you wanted to with this toilet is impressive. Once I realized what a wonderful thing it is to have a golf ball flushing toilet, we ordered 4 of them. Our other 3 bathrooms do, in fact, currently have toilets but not any with super-toilet flushing powers so all 4 bathrooms are about to get "freshened up." Hope Kyle doesn't have plans for a personal life any time soon.

The Tough Questions

noreply@blogger.com (Cperz) — Mon, 22 Aug 2016 14:41:00 +0000

My "tough" questions have changed over my lifetime but there has never been a single decade that remained unscathed by some intrepid question-asker posing a question that I don't have a clear answer for.

My current "stumper" question is "Are you retired?" Well....Hmm...hard to say... Depends how strictly you interpret the word "retirement".

Here's the thing about that particular question that trips me up. Why do people feel the need to ask? Do I look so old that there would be an assumption that I should be out of the workforce? Are they fearful that I am going to be the one batshit crazy person that they might have to work with (because we all know that every office has at least one wackadoo co-worker in the mix) and they need know where NOT to apply? Do I look unproductive, unkempt, or unhinged?

Whatever prompts the question, I am a bit at a loss as how to answer it. Logically, it should be an easy YES or a NO answer but in my case, it's more like SORT OF.

To get to the bottom of if I am retired from the workforce, I have to go back to my work history. .Clearly one can't retire from something if one hasn't done something.

Way back in the the dark ages B.C. (before children) I did, in fact, regularly obtain paid employment. It was during this time that I worked in such glamorous jobs as accounts payable and keypunch operating. I am pretty sure that there are people out there ...even to this day.. that assume the only reason I ever had children was to get out of having to work in those types of fascinating industries. Well, that isn't entirely true. BUT as luck would have it, I ~~cheerfully~~ quit my job week #1 of my first pregnancy. Keypunch operating takes on a whole new level of difficulty when one is routinely vomiting. While I have worked in some offices that would just consider that multitasking, I was eager to get started enjoying a very extended duration of "ME" time so off I went.

For a few years, I could reasonably pull out the mommy card while avoiding what would be considered anything resembling a career. (NOTE: I LOVED being a stay home mom and not because it kept me out of the workforce...but because it is the best job EVER.)

As most of my long time readers know, we moved 21 times as my husband climbed the corporate ladder which resulted in me finding "my place" in 21 new cities. In most cases, upon arriving to a new city my first job was to set up our home, get the kids settled into schools and take care of all the business one takes care of to get assimilated to a new community. Those pesky things like finding doctors, dentists, dry cleaners and the DMV among all the other mundane connections one needs to live any given place. BUT once these checklist items are settled, there comes a point that the nagging question arises "Now what should I be doing?" Back in the 1970s, I could pretty much look in the classified ads in the newspaper and find a job. (Did I just lose you young ones? Just to clarify...in the days prior to the Internet, there was the non-digital approach to job hunting...available jobs were listed in the "Help Wanted" ads in the newspaper. Archaic, you say but it worked.)

I will tell you though, that while I was perfecting my skills of walking the tight rope between working and not working, I was lucky that there were still a number of women that didn't work outside the home. Sadly, as time progressed (in an totally non-progressive way) and there were less and less "stay-at-home" moms there came a point when asked if "I worked" anything less than an affirmative answer that had links to a paycheck, it was quickly becoming a very unpopular choice to stay at home. Yes, it turns out that there are a lot of really "judgey" women out there that were intent on making other women's life choices into a debatable causes.(NOTE: Again luckily for me, I married a superstar of a husband that seemed fine with me staying home and feathering our nest.)

Needless to say, there did come a time when the kids were a bit older that I really did need to go forth into the world of crazy bosses and malicious co-workers. Into my life there came a point, when I no longer could justify NOT having a J.O.B.... so back into the workforce, I W.E.N.T.

In the years between then and now, I have had a lot of jobs in a lot of cities. Depending on what was available at the time we arrived in whatever community...some of the jobs I held were managing a bank, managing an unemployment office, bought a franchise for 2 fast food chain restaurants, I started a corporate training company, I've been a 911 operator and for a couple of years I sold Hershey chocolate products to retail stores. ...but I have circled several times back to selling real estate.

The thing about my on-again-off-again career as a Realtor is that it was dependent on what state we were living in at any given time and the laws that dictated the level of difficulty getting a real estate license. I always went back into real estate when we lived in Kansas or Missouri as I carry licenses in those states already but I didn't in Iowa, Nebraska, Illinois or Texas because (A.) getting a license just seemed to be a bigger pain in the @ss than I felt like dealing with at the time....OR (B.) Something else presented itself that sounded interesting.

In my early years of real estate it was actually quite rewarding. Back then people depended more on real estate agents because they hadn't become experts in their own right by watching HGTV and looking around on the Internet (the Internet hadn't been born yet...just as some of you weren't.) Real estate listings were listed on sheets called "hot sheets" that were distributed to all the real estate offices in any given city. This worked out really slick for agents as the consumers had no way to access what was for sale without going to a real estate office. Ah the good old days when we were needed.

The other fun part of real estate is the "rolling the dice" if you were actually going to make any money. It was sort of like buying a lottery ticket and dreaming about what you would do with the money if you win. You hope for the big win while the economy is good and people are buying and selling homes because you know what goes around comes around. Great years are invariably followed by a couple of years that your expenses will eat up any wisp of a profit.

Just for sake of enlightening the uninformed, real estate agents work strictly on commission. You have to have a brokerage hold your license but you are considered self-employed. Even though you are self-employed, your brokerage firm charges you various fees to use their name and they tell you how to dress and what kind of car to drive. (They don't want you not to look less than successful while you go broke.) Brokers also take a percentage of any commission from a listing or a purchase. Most real estate commissions are divided 4 ways, buyer's agent, buyer's broker, seller's agent and seller's broker.

The money train doesn't stop there. There is continuing education to be completed, state registration fees, Real estate Board membership, E-key and keybox rentals, advertising, signs...and on and on and on.

This is where it gets tricky. I do all of that in two states and according to them I am considered employed. BUT here's the thing...a couple of years ago, I quit showing up at the office.

I have visions of my broker, waking up each morning thinking. "Will today be the day that Cheryl P. shows up for work?" Conversely, I worry, if I would actually come into the office, the poor man might have a heart attack. Considering the proximity of where my office is to the nearest Level One Trauma Center, I am additionally fearful that he wouldn't get life saving help before rigor sets in. Leaves me wondering if I shouldn't move to a brokerage firm closer to a good hospital. OR better yet, just let him continue wondering where I am. I am rather content "just phoning it in" when I occasionally do anything close to what could be called work.

Why did I lose my enthusiasm for a career that provided me with a decent income about every third year, you ask? WELL...the answer is that collectively home sellers and home buyers went NUTS.

You might think I am exaggerating but I assure you I am not. In the good old days when I first got my licenses, (mid 1980s) my big worry was worrying about whether a house I was listing or showing would smell like cigarette smoke or cat urine. Today, I need to preview every house because I want to make sure the bongs and sex toys are put away and out of sight. (Frankly, the buyers might want me to have those items included in the sale and it's just making more paperwork for me.) Plus if there is a meth lab in a house, I need to make sure that has been disclosed on the Condition of Property Disclosure Form Section 12 line 186 and 187 regarding methamphetamine and any controlled substances EVER being present, used or manufactured within the property at any time in the history of the house. Now while I am fairly certain (**cough, cough**) that anyone that has a meth lab will be totally truthful and do the right thing by filling in the disclosure so he/she can clue the would-be-buyer in on the fact they are going to have some serious health issues in their future, it might have just slipped their mind.

I hope you aren't jumping to the conclusion that homes that have drug paraphernalia, sex toys laying about, or evidence a meth lab are in some way relegated to lower end housing. Shame on you for being that narrow minded. The one and only house, that I ever showed that actually had a meth lab in it, had a very high-tech, scientific grade lab built in the finished lower level with a Viking range and granite counter tops. So while maybe the homeowners were lowlifes that is not to say they were low-income lowlifes.

So do you see my dilemma here? Technically, I am still working. I even go so far as to actually show property from time to time, if for no other reason than to substantiate the rental costs of my E-key but as far as going into the office to answer phones, or give anyone the illusion that I am interested in working full time (gawd forbid), don't think I am quite there yet. There might be a time that I will be inspired. That time will not be today.

Do you have any questions that are frequently asked that have no simple answer?

Olympics for Under-Achievers

noreply@blogger.com (Cperz) — Wed, 17 Aug 2016 18:03:00 +0000

Speaking of "under-achievers".... You may have noticed the lack of a post this week. I am actually working on it but (excuses, excuses) due to lack of time, lagging enthusiasm and absence of inspiration, I have not managed to finish it yet. Sooooo...with that being said...in honor of the Rio Olympics I am imagining what sporting events Crabby Pants would want to compete in. Let's imagine how our "less than fit" non-team player, would fare in non-traditional games. We are, of course, assuming that they aren't giving out medals for cynicism, skepticism or sarcasm. She would surely take the gold in those categories.


Crabby is dressed for the Carnivale

Not as easy as it looks but she hopes to take the gold.

And Last but not least...

I will be posting a "real" post in a few days...

Oh, Baby!

noreply@blogger.com (Cperz) — Mon, 08 Aug 2016 20:26:00 +0000

Last week I was reading some essays written by a woman that had her first child in 2002 when she was 46 years old. I, on the other hand had my first child in 1973 when I was 21 years old. AND...it seems a whole lot of things have changed. Doing the math, that mom is 5 whole years younger than me and for that, I might be a tad envious. She probably was thinking how much better she was prepared by waiting longer to have her child. No doubt she was. However, I see advantages to having children younger even if technology and the medical community didn't offer me all the advantages that are available today.

Just for starters, back then I got top billing. At no point did husbands in the early 1970s say, "WE are pregnant!" No, back in the old days, the person who had possession of the occupied uterus was the pregnant one and the other person was included as a secondary participant. OK, we might of said, "WE are expecting" as both of us were anticipating the arrival of a baby but we didn't say that we were both pregnant.

Hormonal emotional outbursts are still available.

Now for all of you dads out there that think I am being exclusionary, I am merely pointing out the word usage here. I am not underestimating your contribution to the end result: the baby. Yeah, you did your part but I am still thinking that the women do the heavy lifting part of this scenario.

Now I know some of your have acted appropriately empathetic while we vomited every morning, saw our body balloon into an odd configuration that eclipsed our feet, and required us to pee every 10 minutes but I do draw the line when men equate passing a kidney stone as probably the same type of pain as childbirth. Let me just say that unless that kidney stone was 8 and a half pounds you are full of s***.

As I was saying...Even leading up to the baby's arrival, things have changed. It used to be that the mommy-to-be had a couple of baby showers given by her friends and/or family. Typically, these consisted of all girls chatting over white sheet cake about baby names, nursery decor and how sore their nipples were. Lots of giggling over guessing if the baby would be a boy or a girl. (NOTE: Yes, back then we didn't get 3D pictures of our babies so we could see them sucking their thumbs and seeing their cute little faces.)

The debate rages on.

Fast forward to today...Couples baby showers evidently are a thing. I actually haven't attended a coed baby shower so I am not sure how successful these are but I think I like the idea of the men having to play those stupid games. Why should women-kind be the only one subjected to this type of punishment?

If it's any consolation, it is my understanding that adult beverages do get served at couples baby showers. Of course this would have to be the case. I can't imagine that grown up couples that have put aside an evening out for a celebration would be on board to not have access to a drink or two... or ten?
Of course, the pregnant couple is abstaining from drinking. Don't even think about it dad...if you are saying "WE are pregnant" then WE are both on the wagon, aren't we? But be aware.... You will be really be wanting some booze when the subject turns to "mucus plugs". Don't say I didn't warn you.

Another noticeable difference between then and now is the delivery room. Well, hell what am I saying? Today there aren't delivery rooms.... there are birthing suites.

I know this is going to sound like the maternity equivalent of me saying I walked 10 miles uphill in the snow to school...but back in the 70's, women in labor were placed in a curtained area similar to how most of today's outpatient surgery centers are set up. Labor was done in partitioned off areas and at the appropriate time we were wheeled to the delivery room. (NOTE: If you have had a colonoscopy anytime lately you might be familiar with a curtain between you and the next person getting "prepped". While it's all very clinical and impersonal, the job gets done.)

I don't remember if there was a TV in the corner but I was being thoroughly entertained by the lady on the other side of the curtain that was morphing between comments about how she was dying and how her husband would never get the opportunity to get near her again. As I recall, his comments and "toneage" implied that he was OK with that.

Fast forward to today. So compared to the old method of a separate labor area, then onto the delivery room, and then finally a hospital room, today there is a "birthing suite" that is a one stop shop. When my daughter had her babies, I got to visit her suite. Turns out that having babies can be a very spa like experience...well except for the labor pains part of it, I suppose. Moms have a room with a big flat screen TV, a recliner, Jacuzzi tub and a fold out sofa for the co-participants that want to sleep over. While the decor still is pretty "hospital chic" in style it is private and mommy and daddy can have the whole dang family involved if they choose to. I think everyone except the family dog is welcome and I wouldn't guarantee that Fido wouldn't be allowed under certain situations.

I personally was fine at not having a private suite but upon the occasion of my first baby hospital stay, I was disappointed that once I departed the delivery room, the private maternity rooms were all occupied. Yes, thoroughly bummed out as we had great insurance that was more than happy to accommodate me with a private room only to find out that August is a super busy month and that I would have a room mate. My room mate, however, provided me with tons of entertainment. She regularly called the "possible" 3 "daddies" and went on and on about how much the baby looked like each of them. Two of the daddies came visiting and to her immeasurable relief (I am guessing)...not at the same time. I might add that I sensed that at least those two dads weren't as happy as one might expect about being a new daddy.

One more notable difference is the level of "full disclosure" on the part of moms today. I have talked to a fair amount of women that allowed photography during the birth of their children. I imagine all of that "memorabilia" made it's way to someones clever little scrapbook. I am rather curious who gets the pleasure of seeing the pictures. Is this something that comes out at Thanksgiving dinner?

Back in the day, I considered myself a "giver" to let the doctor and my husband be in the room. Had I thought my husband was capable of delivering our daughter, I wouldn't have allowed the doctor as much access as he had to my lady parts. As for photos...no way in hell. I am fairly safe in saying that from a photographic perspective, that definitely isn't my best angle.

Sooo...as for the lady that waited for her career and life to settle nicely into place for her and her hubby before having a baby at 46 and me being young and fairly naive at 21...I am thinking that I like my choice better. Sure that woman that wrote the article is 5 years younger than me but she has a 14 year old to deal with. I get to send my grandchildren back to their house at the end of the day.

Back to School Sales and Other Religious Holidays

noreply@blogger.com (Cperz) — Sun, 31 Jul 2016 18:17:00 +0000

Remember the line "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times"? Yeah..Tale of Two Cities. Ring a bell? While I am fairly certain that Charles Dickens wasn't speaking specifically about getting children back to school...he could of been.

Yes, it's that time of year. Where I live, we are 16 days away from the big "send off" for children to return to the classroom. OH...am I not being sensitive to all of you that are crying in your kid's Cheerios at the very thought of your precious spawn heading out the door? If that is you, I apologize for my insensitivity but I am fairly confident that you will not only "get over it" and at some point in the future you will be actually pushing your child out the door ten minutes early (more or less) while telling them that they are close to being late for the first bell.

(NOTE: Sending children off to school gets easier with subsequent children and time. Sending your first child to kindergarten might be gut wrenching but by the time the last one leaves for college you are pretty much resigned, smiling, perhaps giddy at the idea. Your level of joy depends on the "ease" of the child.)

I have always had a love/hate relationship with the beginning of the school year. When I was a little girl starting school, you might remember in a previous post (Whacks and Whackadoos) I didn't take an immediate "like" to school...but my love for it soon followed. However, the days leading up to my "less than stellar" start were fairly exciting. I remember the thrill of going "back to school" shopping. (I know I have said on numerous occasions how I despise shopping, but it was much more tolerable when someone else was paying for my stuff.) I loved, not only the avalanche of all new clothes and shoes but picking out my book bag crammed with assorted goodies like paste, crayons, #2 pencils and such. It all just made me so happy.

While I doubt that today's kids can relate to the euphoria of picking out their lunch box de jour (well..actually that would be something along the lines of sac pour l'année I suppose..), one's lunch box in the late 50s required the same decision making skills as choosing one's Halloween costume. I nearly feel sorry for the youth of today for not having the experience of picking out a metal tote with a theme. We had the glorious agony of deciding if Zorro, the Mouskateers, Dale Evans. Roy Rogers. Lone Ranger or Davy Crockett would be appear on our lunch box and thermos. Sadly the cheap plastic knock off version lunch box or the cute little Pottery Barn insulated bag might have their merits but it's just not the same. (Does anyone, anywhere still use brown lunch bags?)

Even with all the sweet nostalgia related to getting new school supplies in my youth, this time of year brings to mind the good and bad aspects associated to all the calendar school years that I have lived through as an adult, as a parent and (now) as a grandparent.

For the most part, I always looked forward to school starting when I was a student. I loved school and could hardly wait to get back at it each year. The first time I can say that I remember dreading that part of the year is the very year I got married. Back in those days, my hubby managed retail stores for what was an early version of the "big box" stores. I, as you long time readers, might remember, was a teenage bride-to-be and obviously not quite equipped with enough life experience to realize NOT to plan a big wedding during September. I am fairly sure I must of mentioned this to future hubby that the date was going to be the first Saturday in September but he might of not made the connection between "back to school" and "getting married" as a major conflict of interest. In fairness, he was working so hard for his then company he might of been mentally doing an inventory or some other boring task and not thought about the fact that his company was in NO WAY going to give him any time off during "BACK TO SCHOOL" season. It is, after all, a major retail holiday.

After some serious pleading and groveling that included us detailing that there was a church booked, a reception planned and money to be lost if they didn't at the very least give him Saturday off, we did manage to have our wedding. AND out of the goodness of their mercenary little hearts they gave him a little time off for a honeymoon as well.

Fast forward to around 7 years later...having to deal with "back to school" season as a parent. One minute you have a infant and the next you have a kindergartner. By the time our first born was ready to start school, I had developed a real hatred for this time of year thanks to my husband working for a retail company. He basically left for work on some random August morning and came home after Christmas. OK... maybe that is a slight exaggeration but if you ever managed a retail store, you would have to admit, I am not far from wrong.

Not only did going back to school take away my spouse thanks to the retail season of Back-to-School-Halloween-Thanksgiving-Christmas and Year End Clearance, but this time of year was now going to deprive me from my precious little children. Luckily for my kids they were far more grown-up than I was and seemed eager to ~~escape~~ go to school. Turns out that my little daughter who was only 4 days past turning 5, could barely wait to get out the door. I try not to take her enthusiasm as a personal assessment of my less than perfect parenting skills... but there is that possibility.

Anyway.... even though this time of year worked for my kiddos, my routine took a real hit once school was back in session every year. Getting kids up and out the door on time is one thing but all the requirements of being an involved parent is like taking on a second career. Back in those days, I seemed incapable of ever actually verbalizing the word NO. PTA president, sure no problem. Bake cakes and cupcakes for parties and fundraisers...sure...happy to help. Volunteer in the classroom because the class is larger than one would hope for this year....of course I can because the word NO escapes me.

So over the years, I did what I could as my own work schedules allowed and most of the time loved being part of all that went with the ins and outs of children heading back to the classroom. It was with some sadness when my children grew up, got into their cars and drove away to go to their assorted colleges. There is nothing quite like a child loading up their car and driving away to remind me what a wonderful time it was back when we got to pick out their lunchboxes and backpacks.

Today, I am somewhat removed from being in the fray of the shoppers looking for multi-packs of #2 pencils and craft glue. I suspect it has gotten so much harder than it used to be.

Every time I listen to my daughter discuss her "tasks" enrolling, participating or volunteering with her two sons' schools, I realize how easy I had it. Today my grandsons go to a school where everyone is assigned an iPad and all communications from the classroom come "home" on the computer. School menus are subdivided into meal choices, A, B, C, or bring your own. In today's schools if you want access you have to be "buzzed" in but only after you have your ID scanned and tell someone via the intercom who you are and what you want. I appreciate the reasons WHY things have evolved as they have but sad that the world required it to happen.

My sweet memories of chicken noodle soup and bologna sandwiches seem horribly outdated when my daughter was saying that her son, who likes PB&J sandwiches for lunch, has a little lunch buddy, who's mother makes her own hummus so her child can dip his kale chips into it. We are united in the idea that this child's mom would probably not want to be our BFF....
me, more so than her. At least my daughter would have provided some organic grapes with the PB&J. My own kids might of had a Hostess Cupcake. I like to think nutrition was optional when my own kids were in grade school. (If it wasn't an option, people had the good grace not to mention it to me.)

So here we are just 16 short days out before the first day of school. I feel the holiday cheer in the air as I move around town. I smile at the thought of being on the cusp of my gym's weight benches being clear of texting teens. Kansas families are planning their routes and lists in preparedness for Missouri's tax free weekend festivities (no sales tax on clothes, school supplies and electronics in the first weekend in August) that results in the mass migration of Kansans to pour into Missouri, and while I might be wrong ..probably means Hobby Lobby has to get their Christmas displays up. (or are they already out???).

Pokemon Stop

noreply@blogger.com (Cperz) — Fri, 22 Jul 2016 23:33:00 +0000

My version of "augmented" reality.

Did you think perhaps I accidentally walked off a cliff while trying to capture a Pokemon? Sadly, I am not nearly "cool" enough to be out joining the herds of people that are injuring themselves while trying to find the elusive 151 Pokemon characters.

As you might remember, I did a post a few months ago about the unfortunate folks that met their maker while taking selfies. (Thine Own Selfie Be True). Well, I am sure you will be happy to know that there is a new way to maim yourself by "device" if you are into that sort of thing. Maybe walking off a cliff would be an interesting spike in your day....or drop as the case may be.

While I might not be evolved enough to be a willing participant in this whole Pokemon GO game craze, it seems that by default I find myself being an unwilling participant. Yes... Recently I have found that on numerous occasions I have been surrounded by vigilant Pokemon hunters that are caught up in the Pokemon GO stampede.

While I am fairly certain that most of you have heard of the sudden popularity of the app named Pokemon GO. BUT, if you aren't up on your "useless" game knowledge, here is a short explanation.

Pokémon Go is a freemium location-based mobile game developed by Niantic for iOS and Android devices, containing some but not all aspects of an augmented reality game. It was released in most regions of the world in July 2016. Making use of GPS and the camera of compatible devices, the game allows players to capture, battle, and train virtual creatures, called Pokémon, who appear on device screens as though in the real world. The game is free-to-play, although it supports in-app purchases of additional gameplay items. An optional companion Bluetooth wearable device, the Pokémon Go Plus, is planned for future release and will alert users when Pokémon are nearby.
In the game's first week of release, Apple said the game set the record for most downloaded app in the App Store in one week

Last week, instead of being the diligent blog writer that strives to give you new material every week, Hubby and I decided to go on a road trip. We thought it might be a nice experience for our 8 year old grandson to see some "Americana" type destinations. Our itinerary was to start with a riverboat ride on the Mississippi starting in Hannibal, Missouri, then visit "all things" Mark Twain, (cave, museums, lake, lighthouse, boyhood home, etc.), then proceed to Springfield, Illinois, to take in "all things" Abraham Lincoln (New Salem, home, museum, library, tomb) and then finish off the trip by spending a day at the St. Louis zoo.

You might not have noticed that NO where in that itinerary did I carve out time to download the Pokemon GO app and spend time with my face firmly attached to a cell phone screen so that I might add some "augmented reality" into my real reality.

Of course, you might think it's just me being paranoid but seemingly where ever we went, we found ourselves surrounded by Pokemon hunters and presumably little monsters that have been "augmented" into the real world. I guess one can't have PokeStops, all around one and not expect that there would be dozens and dozens of Pokemons laying in wait to be captured. This must be true as EVERY WHERE we went we found ourselves surrounded by people playing this game.

I guess if I had bothered to read the directions provided on the app, it clearly points out that some of the Pokemon hang out near water and the Mississippi is full of that. They, also, seem to like historical places, historical markers, monuments, and landmarks. In other words, every place I intended to take my grandson was breeding ground for these bothersome little beasts and exceedingly more annoying...the hoards of real people chasing them.

To make matters even worse, some of the pesky Pokemon characters are to be found at night. A good friend of mine told me at the hospital where she works, they are having trouble keeping people off the emergency heliport during the night because people are "hunting" elusive Pokemon characters.

There are times that I see very clearly that I am an old fogy. (Can women be fogies? Is that gender specific????) Anyway...as I was saying....it became very apparent that no matter where we went over the last week, we found we were surrounded by people staring at their cell phones hunting for these fictional characters in the real world. At one point during a sea lion show at the zoo, one woman had her phone up in front of my face so she could get a clear shot of a Pokemon with a Pokeball. Evidently my sight line was a perfect shot for her.

Normally, I am fairly open to new technologies and often I am running out the door when new devices or technologies make their debut. I am troubled by this particular trend of "augmented reality". According to many of the articles this is just the first of many of these types of interactive games that are due to launch. Given the enormous popularity, at least in the short term, we are going to be inundated with pesky people running into us, walking into doors, tripping on curbs, falling off cliffs and driving into trees, crashing into police cars and other assorted inanimate but very real objects.

Still it has me questioning the sanity of people. Because the makers of this game have specifically targeted places such as monuments, historical markers, museums, water, and art installations... the very things that people should be LOOKING AT and LEARNING ABOUT, instead people's attention is being drawn away from those items in lieu of a game.

When did it happen that we felt the need to make reality less real by augmenting it? Isn't "keeping it real" good enough?

I am fairly sure the next "big thing" will cause this current "big thing" to lose it's
appeal. We tend to be fickle in our interests but will the next tide of "what's hip and happening" be equally distracting?

Rites of Passage

noreply@blogger.com (Cperz) — Mon, 11 Jul 2016 16:27:00 +0000

I don't remember exactly when I started reading the obituaries but somewhere in the last decade or so, I sporadically find myself reading about the lives of total strangers upon the event of their demise. This tendency to read obits might be a rite of passage as one becomes older. I think when I was younger, I was still going with the idea I was immortal.

Now, I suppose some of you are already thinking that I have crossed over into a subject that is too morbid for your blog reading enjoyment....but as it turns out that some people are getting very creative with their final farewell "notices" and dare I say, having some fun with it. (NOTE: I recognize I am using the word fun in the very broadest of definitions here.)

I think there was a time when obituaries were all rather dire sounding and gloomy by their very nature of being...well a death notice. BUT... Gone are the days when an impartial newspaper "obit person" is left to type some fact-filled synopsis of a person's life containing just the pertinent information of an individual's birth date, death date and where the funeral would be held. That approach is so old school and we don't want to leave this world being less then trendy, now do we?
More evolved..albeit deceased, people are creating their own personal essays that are more in the vein of mini-novellas about their lives and feelings.

I have, of course, found a couple of representative examples. Please note, I
have removed some of the personal information and condensed the content just to exemplify the creative ideas of these particular authors' (RIP) essays...er..obits. Just consider my two examples as the equivalent of Reader Digest Condensed versions of their final words. For full disclosure, though, these are real obits that I found. I am not making these up.

My first example, caught my attention because he manages to be somewhat humble while simultaneously dissing his siblings and their abilities as parents.

Excerpts from an obituary for James "Jim" G***

James "Jim" G. made his last wildly inappropriate and probably sarcastic comment on July 28th.

Jim was born and immediately dubbed "our favorite child" to John and Joan G. in March of 1963

He is survived by his wife of 25 years the recently wealthy and overly devoted Julie ...... Additionally he is survived by his much older sister Lisa D. of whythehelldoyoulivethere Rhode Island, and younger brother John...... Jim's demise will now allow them to emerge from his shadow. A variety of nieces and nephews with mediocre upbringing would complete the list of those left to embellish his memory.

His 30 plus years as a volunteer soccer coach from the kindergarten to High school level afforded hundreds of children and parents exposure to Jim's unique personality. Half a dozen or so of these folks might speak of him fondly if pressed.

Jim died knowing that Monty Python and the Holy Grail was the best movie ever. Bruce Springsteen best recording artist, Clint Eastwood the baddest man on the planet, and that chicks dig El Caminos.

His regrets were few but include eating a rotisserie hot dog from a convenience store in the summer of 2002, not training his faithful dog Rita to detect cancer, and that no video evidence exists of his prowess on the soccer field or in the bedroom.

Although a less than average life span, Jim did not live an average life. He traveled where he wanted to travel, laughed inappropriately at every chance, learned what he wanted to learn, fix what he wanted to fix and loved who he wanted to love.

Cremation will take place at the family's convenience, and his ashes will be kept around as long as they match the décor.

Anyone wearing black will not be admitted to the memorial. "

More recently I came across a very lengthy obit, that I read and reread because at first I just didn't understand it. It turns out that a lot of it was excerpts from U2 songs and as I am not terribly knowable of all things U2 so I had a bit of trouble following it. Due to space constraints I will start somewhat in the middle
of it. Again, I am leaving a lot out in terms of content but the uptake here is that you can host a contest in your obituary if you are a creative sort. This woman had her friends vying for her collection of U2 memorabilia with totes included. I obviously would of lost the contest due to my complete lack of U2 knowledge.

Nancy D. (as in Dog) C********

............
It's a beautiful day, don't let it slip away, ceased to breathe, will no longer be singing songs that pop into her head, and can finally stay focused. She will no longer have to get up early, do laundry, clean, remember to get her dry cleaning, or do the dishes, .........
A reception will be held .....Yes, you will have to listen to some of the CD's she made of her most favorite songs during this time. . . (It will be more than U2, people.) .........
In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions may be made to our National Parks System,..... or your local liquor store. If by chance you know all the quoted U2 songs in this, check with Kevin and you will win Nancy's life time collection of all things U2 and the totes are included. Pick up only, sorry no delivery. .....
She loved the light-brite she got for Christmas but never got her Udo. Be thankful that she didn't, if she had all of you would have gotten a bunch of stupid silk screened crap from her. She hated gum smacking, when someone didn't use their turn signals while driving, male urinals, and cabinet doors being left open. She is preceded in death by Theodore Roosevelt, Alfred Hitchcock, Rod Sterling, Richard Nixon, Johnny Cash and anyone not breathing. Survivors include everyone still breathing; .......

(NOTE: I did like her putting in the "D is for Dog" in her name. I am somewhat disappointed that my middle initial is L. Nothing fun comes to mind starting with L. Suggestions encouraged.)

So, my friends, while I plan on being around for a very long time and don't spend an inordinate amount of time working to create the perfect final essay, I am gleaning some ideas on what I might want to say. I can assure you that it will be lengthy with a lot of "thank-yous" involved.

I think we can agree that all the grown-up stuff like wills, medical directives, TODs and such need to happen for the sake of being responsible and typically are pretty matter-of-factly written. All those legally prepared and mundane responsibilities leave leave little room for "creativity" but as for planning your final "words" you have some choices. I guess a little thought might be in order as you aren't going to be able to revise them after they are published.

But It Was a Bargain

noreply@blogger.com (Cperz) — Mon, 04 Jul 2016 00:33:00 +0000

I was recently watching the Today Show when they their "financial expert" Jean Chatzky told the viewers "If you wouldn't buy something at full price, you shouldn't buy it just because it's on sale." What???? Has this woman lost her mind???

While I have to say...even before she started talking that particular bit of nonsense, I didn't have a great deal of confidence in her ability to secure my financial future in any meaningful way. Actually, I remain confused as to what her "money" philosophy is exactly. In one breath she is telling millennials to charge more on their credit cards because they need to establish credit but than she turns around to tell them to get their student loans paid off. Is it just me or do those two things seem to be working against each other? Purposefully adding to your credit card debt while trying to pay off your student loan bills seem to be counter productive if one wants to do things like eat and live in an actual building as opposed setting up housekeeping under an overpass.

Anyway...back to the "not buying things solely on the fact it is on sale." While I think I understand what she is trying to convey, I don't think she necessarily is stating it correctly. If she is meaning that you shouldn't buy something you neither need nor want just because it's an unbelievable bargain, I guess that makes a certain amount of sense. If we all just bought tons of crap we didn't need, want or intend to use...we just become hoarders. However, if there are things you want but would never ever spend the amount of money required to obtain them because they just are too much to substantiate the cost AND then by some miracle, someone puts it at a price you can actually afford...the right answer is...shove your way to the front of the line, walk over whoever you have to walk over to get it. OK, maybe that is an over reach.

Maybe I wouldn't actually trample anyone for an unbelievable bargain but I probably would purchase something that I didn't necessary need if the price was tempting enough. For example if there was a deal on a pair of 2 carat diamond earrings between 4 AM and 5 AM (such as retailers tend to do on such festive days as Black Friday) for $5.00 but only 5 total pairs are available. Even given the fact, I am not particularly a jewelry kind of girl, I would probably haul my tired butt out of bed super early and hope for the best. (again..not actually walking over the backs of people unless they make some nasty crack about my pink baby doll pjs that I will be wearing due to the fact time was of the essence.) My point being, I don't need diamond earrings, not currently looking to buy diamond earrings but if someone is selling $1500 earrings for $5.00, I am on it. SO, as to Jean's misbegotten point, I would in fact, never ever pay full price for those earrings that I don't need but I am most definitely going to buy them if the price is right. NEED be damned because WANT reigns supreme in this example.

All of my regular readers know that I am not overly fond of shopping in general. I consider shopping a chore. There are rare instances that I get in the "mood" to shop but those instances are exceedingly infrequent. The one thing that might counter my negative shopping attitude is getting a super-duper bargain. I have occasionally scored some real "wins" on assorted things that I didn't think I needed prior to the realization that is was a screaming deal.

Most recently, I was in our local "big box" warehouse club shopping for boring things like lettuce and bananas when I was approached by a young man that had the most flawless porcelain skin, I have ever seen. I am not exaggerating here. His skin all but glowed.

Now typically, any of these pesky types that work in mall kiosks or big box
stores that ascend on me like vultures on fresh road kill, I try to shoo off with a "I don't have time today...sorry!" but this guy had my attention due to his aforementioned flawless skin.

Right out of the shoot, he asked me to share with him my current skin care regime. OH-OH, is this a trick question? Is he assuming I don't have a skin care regime? Do I look like a person that might need a skin care regime? BUT in fact, I do have a regime so I tell him my current line of miracle-working-wonder products that clearly aren't working all that well if he picked me out of the crowd.

Who can argue with "the more you spend the more you save?

(NOTE: I have a history of looking for the the fabled "fountain of youth". I have bins and buckets of elixirs that have promised me that my skin would cease to age. I have found some "nice" products but clearly none of these products have duped people into thinking I am in my 30s or even 40s. When I find that product, I am prepared to bath in it.)

Upon hearing my current product line, he deemed them to be just OK. I did notice his "OK" was said in the same tone as a person saying OK when finding out the doctor is advising aspirin instead of oxycodone...let's just say with less verve than one would hope for. According to him my products aren't nearly as GREAT as what he is selling. This if followed by him taking my hand and slathering it with some kind of goo. While the goo is supposedly working miracles on my hand, he is explaining that his products are far superior because they have the benefit of being made with water that has had it's atoms crushed into micro-atoms. According to man-child, that allows it to be absorbed into my aging hide more effectively. He, then, tissues off the goo and we are supposedly marveling at the beautiful skin now appearing on my hand. Sadly, I don't see any difference but it smells nice enough. I am hopeful at this point that my inability to see the miraculous transformation that he is seeing isn't due to my ageing eyesight. Although, I hadn't noticed any loss of vision prior to my hand transformation.

The man-child now tells me that the 4 piece bag containing an assortment of these crushed-water "miracle" products were on sale for that day ONLY.... at MORE THAN 95 percent off. That is a big 9 and a big 5 off, folks. AND WAIT FOR IT...if I buy it today I would get a leather case with 4 lip glosses.

It didn't really work out for Hannibal Lecter, did it?

Again...I am suspicious so I tell him I am going to think about it while I go get my lettuce. Of course, you know and I know that I am going to Google the hell out of micro-water miracle anti-aging potion because I want to see the real price and read some reviews. Turns out this is some expensive sh** with some seriously awesome reviews.

Circling back to Jean Chatzky warning me to not buy anything just because of the price. Jean can bite me, because I am about to get a bag of crushed water for $50.00 whereas the same great smelling goo sells on the Internet for $650.00. That's not even the best part. In the reviews the word "amazing" is used in the same frequency as Ben Affleck uses the word f*** when talking about Tom Brady's "Deflate-gate" struggles.

I know that some of you out there are tsking me again and saying something to the effect "There is a sucker born every minute." Maybe so... but this sucker is saving MORE than 95 percent and getting some lip gloss in the deal.

To be fair, I am not always so gullible or easily swayed to buy things. I understand the concept of marketing. Sales people are in the business of enticing other people to buy what they are selling. Salesmen selling SPAM make it sound like prime rib instead of the nasty hunk of pork parts shoved into a can. Pet rocks and Chia Pets didn't sell themselves. Smooth talking marketers do what they do. They market things. I get that. I have been in so many sales jobs it would take another blog post to list them. My current gig being a Realtor has often put me in the first row to watch bad decisions being made.

(NOTE: When a family of four tells me they are in the market for a "tiny" house and want no more than 300 square foot, that is not me marketing to them...that is them being stupid. When I agree with them that the little box on a trailer is cute and charming that is me being pleasant and agreeable...but unfortunately that is still them being stupid.)

The salesperson, porcelain skinned man-child, probably made an effort to stop all the women over the age of 50 that he could hunt down in the confines of the big box store and pepper them with assurances that his skin looks like it does because of the product he is hawking. Who are we to doubt that crushed water doesn't have the power to stop time from marching over our face?

So for now, I am having some fun imagining how much younger I appear today over yesterday thanks to these miracle products. I am going to enjoy it while I can because there is no way I would ever pay full price for smashed water.

Wow, even my youthful curls are back.

I'm Hot and Not in a Good Way

noreply@blogger.com (Cperz) — Mon, 27 Jun 2016 16:29:00 +0000

I'm taking a blog detour this morning. Yes, I was on a path to tell you about a little 5 day va-cay I took to Chicago last week. Not that you are missing anything of interest, really by me abandoning my original post.

A sign I noticed while walking in Chicago

(Brief synopsis) Hubby left Canada and had some business in Chicago, so I decided to take advantage of joining him so I could hang out in a company paid hotel and escape the heat wave currently hovering over Kansas. I have become a bit tired of and dare I say, "cranky" with the 100 degree temperatures that seem to be stuck over the plain states. OH, and let's not forget heat index of 110 degrees. Humidity is the devil.

It's never a good sign when a person such as myself is watching the dangerous rescue of the two scientists in Antarctica and thinking that they might want to rethink leaving depending on where they were being taken. Lack of empathy might be one of the symptoms of one's brain being "crock potted".

So instead of telling you 25 reasons why I think living in a one-bedroom king suite at Candlewood Suites is far superior to buying a "tiny house" or why walking in forest preserves in Chicago in 82 degrees is heaven-like compared to the current hell-like conditions in Kansas City, you will have to hear about the unpleasant turn of event upon my arrival home.

Now, if you haven't picked up on the subtle references thus far about me not liking to sweat, let's just let me state clearly...HEAT and HUMIDITY are not my friends.

Sooo...after 5 lovely days hanging around Chicago, we return to Kansas with the temperature hovering at 100 (YUCK) degrees. I normally wouldn't care so much but as luck (and I mean bad luck) would have it, after catching up with some chores like yard work and laundry, we realize that house isn't cooling down even though it appears our central air is running full tilt. This isn't a good sign.

No worries though...I am a sucker for "extend service warranties". I know, I know, you are all rolling your eyes and making tsking sounds at me. I don't blame you at this point. BUT STILL...yearly, I am enticed by my heating and air company's promise that I will be the first in line in the event of air conditioner or furnace failure. I have a lovely little certificate that comes in the mail after they receive my yearly payment that makes promises...lots and lots of promises.

I am still optimistic when I call them on a Friday night at 9:00 PM to explain that my upper floor is now registering 81 degrees and I would appreciate them honoring my GOLD STAR SERVICE WARRANTY PLAN for 24 hour emergency service on my AC unit.

The woman on the other end of the line, I think was laughing. I am not entirely sure as she may of been coughing, crying, eating, drinking, or choking but after she composed herself she explained that I shouldn't be expecting even a call back until TUESDAY.

The fact, my head didn't spin full 360 degree rotations while I scream "ARE YOU F****** KIDDING ME??? gives you some indication of my level of restraint. I am saving my rage for someone that is not the call center girl. I want to save my screaming for someone that has a position that counts.

Then.... much to my surprise, Sunday I did receive a call from the "liar, liar, pant's on fire (probably because their AC crapped out) company, to say they will send someone over on Tuesday to (hopefully) repair my AC. When I mentioned, that I was finding their GOLD STAR SERVICE WARRANTY more than lacking, I got a speech about this "unusual" weather pattern. Let's just again notice my super-power like restraint for not pointing out that every summer in Kansas is like this and she's a dumb bitch.

Here's the thing readers...it's not like I couldn't go get a hotel room for 3 nights but then WHY should I? I have more than the cost of 3 days in a hotel wrapped up in this stupid service plan. I prefer to I wait patiently and perfect my skill of sweating. By Saturday night, the upper floor is 86 degrees. (NOTE: Now, I will tell you that this house has a finished lower level that remains comfortably cool, so it could be said that I am being a super-duper, spoiled brat about this non-functioning air conditioner.)

I am not naive to the fact that for thousands of years people survived without central air.

Wonder if Cleopatra had trouble getting her service guys to show up.

BUT...IT'S THE PRINCIPLE OF THE THING. I paid hundreds of dollars for a service plan that seems to do the same thing as NOT having a service plan.

I recognize that it's always a pain when someone pulls out the "it's the principle" excuse for being stubborn and unyielding but in my current state of "wait", I am not being my sweetest self. Today, I am prepared to believe that my HVAC company uses the acronym for Hate and Venom All Consuming and they are seriously pissing me off.

Maybe by Tuesday...if and when someone...ANYONE...fixes my air conditioner, then maybe a well return to my cooler, calmer self.

Yes, let's hope that Tuesday cooler heads will prevail. If not you can safely assume that I will be even hotter...and not in a good way.