Concrete Jungle

This is Florida where there are new housing developments popping up all over.  One day you are driving down a country road enjoying the view and thinking, “Hey, Florida is actually pretty out here in the country.”  The next day you are shocked to see that all the trees have been felled and a new development is being built.  The land is lost and will never be the country again.  The natural world is replaced by suburban gated communities with restrictive Home Owners Associations telling everyone how many animals they can have, what color they can paint their houses, and what kind of plants they can plant on their property.  All the houses look alike.  I thought Floridians were mostly conservative Republicans?  I thought conservative Republicans were against oppressive big government?   Why do they choose to live like this, without personal freedoms?  Where are the rugged individualists?   Or have the rugged individualists all become Libertarians?  These are the things I wonder now that I have been retired for six full months!

And now a few words about our current living situation: The Concrete Jungle, aka RV Vacation Resort.  In truth, it is quiet and pleasant to be here.  There is a total vacation vibe.  Everyone is taking it easy.  The RV’s and trailers are parked herringbone style, fairly close to each other.  This is a large park with a lot of units, and across from us is a row of small, prefab houses that are referred to as cottages.  The cottages were once rentals.  The resort is slowly selling them off.  A few of the owners may or may not live in their cottages year round.  When we first moved in (early April) there were a lot more RV’s parked in unit spaces.  By May 1^st, about half have moved out – theoretically to go back north?  Some have left, but continue to rent the unit space and leave their RV parked here.  I am not sure what the draw is about this place.  It is backed up against a Publix grocery store and strip mall on one side.  The other sides are surrounded by the ubiquitous new housing developments.

There is a clubhouse, pool, and administrative complex in the middle of the park.  The office manager is British.  She is kick-ass efficient and keeps everything running smoothly.  She is also da boss.  I so wanted to like her.  But, we pissed her off right away when we first arrived because we tried to get both cars in under only one gate opening.  My husband loves the challenge.  We managed, but it really made her angry.  She wanted us to be punished.  She scolded us soundly.  I think she might have waved her finger at us, too.  I felt rebuked and ashamed for our transgression.  My husband, T, being a former lost boy and all, thought it was funny and wanted to do it again.  He was not sufficiently obsequious or sorry.  She knew.  She can tell when you are bad to the bone.  Other residents seem to have an electronic pass that opens the gate.  We did not receive one.  I can only imagine why.  We have to punch the *&^%$! code in each and every time.  I have seen her flirt with some of the old men who come in to hang out with her or to pick up their mail.  “Here comes trouble!” she will say in her slightly higher and more feminine “nice voice.”  I have never seen her pal around or joke with a woman.  I tried to be funny with her once, but only ended up laughing at my own joke a little too shrill as she stared a hole through me.  I might have even displayed some facial heaves as the air became thicker...very awkward. She reminds me of a couple of office professionals I have worked with over the years.  She controls the atmosphere within her sphere and only dispenses good vibes on her favorites – the ones who suck up to her regularly.  The rest of us are beneath her notice.  Thank you, God, for not making me her supervisor.

Still Waiting, Dammit!

Ok, now it is beyond waiting. It is about control. I have none. I want some. What is a woman to do? I am afraid the answer to that is “get cranky.”

I like to do things on the spur of the moment; the lack of planning makes everything more fun. Yesterday at 2:45 pm I came up with the brilliant idea of driving into town, picking up E (who I happened to know was home from school faking illness) and going to the theater to see the new Spiderman movie at 3:45. It takes 35 minutes to get from our trailer to their house, then 15 minutes to get from M&MV&E&N’s house to the theater. We could do it! I had faith in us.

My husband, T, agreed and we jumped in the car and headed to pick up E.  Unfortunately, T must have been on slow motion drugs yesterday afternoon because he consistently drove under the speed limit. We have a GPS and it tells us what the speed limit is, and what speed we were going. I could not believe it. He must have known how important it was to get there on time. I felt the need to shout out the speed limit to him so that he would know. As you can imagine, he REALLY seemed to like my help in that regard. The other drivers on the road were purposely driving slow, too. Bastards!  I cursed them roundly, and not quietly.  I screamed: “I hate your guts!” to a school bus filled with children.

I messaged ahead to give M instructions to have E come out as soon as we drove up so we would not have to go inside. I did not want baby N to know we were there because 1. It would break his heart when we left right away, and 2. It would slow us down to interact with him. I called again when we were punching in the access code at the gate for their housing development. Why, oh why do so many Floridians live in gated communities? Coming to a stop and punching in the numbers and then waiting forever for the hateful gate to slowly swing open cost us at least 20 seconds. E did not come out immediately when we drove up 20 seconds later. So I called again. M messaged that E was going to the bathroom. Fine. I guess they do not plan ahead either.

It took forever to get from E’s house to the theater. OK, maybe because I insisted T take a new “short-cut,” and I miscalculated how short the cut was, whatever. We arrived at the theater at 3:50. I ran to the ticket counter, E and T trailing behind. What is it with slow motion drugs, I wondered? Don’t they know how to run?

Previews were being shown and there were only seats left up front, so the ticket person suggested we pay a bit more and go to the 4:00 3D showing. I glanced at E&T to see if they wanted to go to the 3:45 non 3D (as planned) or the 4:00 3D showing. I sincerely thought I heard them say, “No, we want to stick with the plan – go to the 3:45 show.” I paid for the 3:45 tickets. When we got in they stupidly were trying to veer into the 3D cinema entrance. I yelled at them that it was not the one we were going to. I could not believe they were wasting more TIME. With what I can only call shock they informed me that they both had told me at the ticket counter that they wanted to go to the 4:00 3D movie instead. Sheesh.

We walked in and took seats in the 3D theater. We had about 7 minutes to kill. I immediately began to relax. T went to get snacks for all of us. You can drink beer and wine in this theater, plus they sell fries with cheese sauce. So, snacks are pretty great here. Then sweet E turned to me with frightened eyes and asked what we would do if we got arrested for going into the wrong theater? Ouch, the heady responsibility of being a grandparent!  I reassured her I would go out and tell the authorities we were in the 3D theater, and I would pay the additional $6 cost. Good thing, too, because we did not have 3D glasses…

I walked up to the nearest authority (a tall, skinny, pimply faced 16 year old boy) and confessed our sins. He shook his head at me sadly and told me that was not the way we were supposed to do this. My eyes glazed over as I successfully managed not to punch him in the head. Over the right ear would have been good, I thought. He gave me 3 pairs of 3D glasses and I returned to my seat.

T then came back with a tray full of food and drink. E had fries with cheese sauce, a humongous box of cookie dough candy, and a Sierra Mist that was at least a foot tall. T got fries and a glass of white wine. I am on a life-long diet so naturally I only got wine. As he went to sit down the tray tipped and HIS glass of white wine spilled over and onto him, the tray, and the floor. We moved up to the next row, cleaning up as best we could. The floor, however, remained sticky.

Spiderman was great! It was fast paced, and included lots of fighting, lots of crashing and plenty of yelling. Just what the doctor ordered. I was refreshed. I worked out a lot of anger issues watching Electro get his butt kicked by Spidey.  Although I felt kind of sorry for Electro because it was not really his fault that he turned bad. Sigh. My nerves are shot. I may need to go see the Captain America movie today. Alone.

The Waiting Game

It is hard to wait.  It provokes a variety of emotions including boredom, annoyance, depression, anger, and frustration.  Waiting demands surrender.  If you are waiting, it is because the situation is outside of your control.  Consequently, waiting is one of those few real-life situations where surrender seems appropriate.   Sometimes to fight is to lose.  Hard thing, though...surrender. 

Like most people, I hate to wait.  I am impulsive, short-tempered, and quick thinking.  I remember when I was in the early grades at school and I would get in trouble during those group read-out-loud projects where everyone in class had to take a turn reading out loud.  We were expected to patiently wait our turn and follow the other readers in the book.  That was problematic for me.  I could not wait.  I would read ahead while others struggled with the words.  Then I would lose my place when it was once again my turn to read out loud. I would have no idea where everyone else was reading. That would infuriate the nuns.  Busted. Waiting seemed counterintuitive to me then and it still does, but there are times when it is unavoidable.  My Catholic parents might have told me hard times are good for my immortal soul.  Buddhism would support that idea. It is the hard times that test you, challenge you, enable you to withstand more than you thought you could.  Blah, blah, blah…  I’m sick of waiting. 

We waited for inspections (general house, termite, pool) and subsequent reports the past couple of weeks.  They found some stuff wrong with the house and the pool; fixable things, but pricey.  Now we are waiting for negotiations with the bank to take place to either get them to either lower the price or fix the problems.  That means we are also waiting to know if we need to rescind our offer and move on and start all over again.  Oh, and the wifi in the vacation resort is awful - unreliable and as slow as dial-up sometimes.  We are always waiting on internet connections, or we just give up and wait until we go to M's house to catch up on Facebook or answer emails.  We are staying about 35 minutes from M and her family, so the drive there and back is all about waiting to get someplace.  We waited two days for the resort people to fix a minor plumbing issue.   A lot of our mail is still being forwarded, so we wait and wait for mail which we have to drive 35 minutes to pick up at our PO Box. We had to wait for over a week for new checks to arrive from our new bank.  Moving is rife with waiting opportunities.  Buying a house, too.  I could go on and on.  Aren't you glad I am going to stop now?

On that damn bright side, it is warm enough to swim in a pool now.  We have already been in M & MV's pool with the kids.  It is so much fun.  N is 2 years old and just as cute as can be.  He wears a little swimming tube that looks like a yellow tutu.  SOOOO hilarious and darling.  E is 10 and is growing and maturing in leaps and bounds.  Occasionally she forgets she is a complicated, negative, goth-queen tween and manages to laugh out loud at something ridiculous and uncool.  That warms my heart.  I hate the waiting game, but it is worth it to be with my family.  It is worth it to play with our grandchildren.  Neither T nor I are particularly mature; we splash around and misbehave like crazy with the kids in the pool.  They love it.  We do, too.   In fact, we are waiting now to go there and play in the pool today.  I can't wait.

Inspection

The general house inspection and termite/pest inspection both took place on Thursday of this past week.   Once again, it is a foreclosure.  However, it is not a Fannie Mae owned property like house #1 was.  House #2 is owned by a bank.  As with so many houses for sale down here, it has been sitting vacant for a couple of years while the bank forecloses on the poor unfortunate prior owners who bought the place during the housing bubble and then lost it when the economy bottomed out, they lost their jobs, and the banks refused to work with them to keep their house.   Consequently, you will find the disgruntled prior owners often do some cosmetic damage throughout the house before they leave.   They might punch in a closet wall, or put hand prints on the walls.   They will pull pictures off the walls without caring that part of the wall comes with it; angry and obvious things like that.   I imagine they think they are sticking the bank with repairs.   However, the banks do not care enough about the properties to repair them. 

In addition to cosmetic patching, painting, and replacing carpeting,  the house needs a new roof and the air conditioning/heating no longer works.   The bank either does not know or is remaining silent on these two big ticket issues.  Foolish if the latter, because no potential buyers will be able to get insurance or financing for a house with these particular problems.  These important bargaining issues need to be resolved during this inspection period when we have the ability to rescind the offer and walk away if need be.  If the bank will come down to our satisfaction to fully address those issues we will pursue buying house #2.   If not, we will move on and start again.   Depressing, because the house has great potential and we love the area it is in, but we no longer have time to play games.   We want to be in a house before hurricane season starts...

I enjoyed the house inspector.  He was a big guy, sweet and chatty.  Just before I met him I overheard him talking to his "Momma" on the cell phone, telling her that he loved her.   When I shook his hand, I said "I am always happy to meet a man who loves his mother."   He replied in earnest, "Well, you know they need a lot of love." 

Closure

The NYS house closed on Thursday.  It was a bit anticlimactic since it was two long weeks later than originally predicted; however, beggars can’t be choosers.  We are happy this major hurdle is behind us now.  I try to imagine the new family taking the bundle of keys and manuals they received at closing to the empty house to explore their new home.  I hope they are falling in love with the old house, the 1.6 acres of land, and with themselves.  I hope that is what happened.   However, my bruised, anxiety laden psyche taunts me, whispering they are inside the house raving about the carpet being dirty, the lack of closet space, the inadequate lighting. Worse, I imagine the snow is now melted and the land out back is flooded, as it often is at this time of the year. With all the snow cover they could only imagine what the land was like.  Now for the first time they will see the ridiculous number of perennial garden beds we created.  Sure, those beds will be beautiful in a month or two, but in April they are wet and covered with leaves and sticks and weeds that need to be pulled.  All the beds need to be edged.  They need to figure out how to take the snowplow off the mower and put the mowing blade back on.  I cannot help but imagine they think, “What the hell?  What have we got ourselves into?  What is a weed and what is a flower? 

OK, OK, I realize we knew nothing when we were a young family and first moved in there.  We learned everything from books, trial and error, and hard work, and it was our pleasure for many years.  Working on the house and gardens was a joyful hobby.  It provided an escape from the work-a-day world and gave us a chance to build our homeowner skills and confidence. We reveled in the privacy of the setting, and communed with nature.  Every task was filled with hope for the future.  We were building the future.  It was great.   It was great when we were young like these new owners are young.  They will be fine. That particular “future” has become my past.  It is a part of my life that is over with the sale of that house and those garden beds.  I do not yearn for it yet.  I expect I will at some point, though.  For now I rarely think about it except to worry that the weeds are taking over.  

Last night we heard that we have a signed contract for the new house in Florida.   Next week we will have house, pool, and termite inspections done.  That will tell us if this house is in the cards for us.   If so, then we can start building a new future.   It needs some work, especially outside.  I have some ideas for really beautiful perennial beds.   And you should see the crazy flowers they grow around here.  Exciting.

Living Large

We have moved up in the world from the "Crack" hotel, as T likes to call the (actually reasonably nice) motel room experience we had the first week and a half we were here.  Our small travel trailer now feels like a mansion to us. The whole trailer rocks from side to side when one of us walks inside it. The first time I felt it I thought there was a minor earthquake happening. 

Some more good news: we just heard that the closing on our NYS house is scheduled for Thursday afternoon of this week.   We will be so relieved when that is behind us.

Some Good News at Last!

The movers came yesterday and brought all our household stuff and furniture to the storage unit.  All went well!  You should have seen that monster moving van make the 90 degree turn.  Terrifying.  Well, I actually kept my eyes closed, but T was enjoying it.  I have been filled with anxiety for a week fearing that truck would not make the turn and then we would have to deal with finding another unit that could accommodate a 75 foot moving van while the movers waited on the highway.  T kept trying to get me to look, but I was on the verge of hyperventilating and just could not watch.   I did watch it back up, turn around, and make that turn onto the highway again when all was done and they were leaving the lot.  Those guys are amazing drivers and hard working souls.  Of course, then T wanted me to stop watching the van so we could leave.  I have learned that you just cannot make a man happy! 

I am glad to have that behind us and to know where all our "stuff" is.  It is in a climate controlled unit inside a large secured building, so we do not have to worry about everything melting in the Florida heat.  Oh yeah, no one told us that they expected a certified check upon delivery.   After a few tense moments they agreed to take our credit card.   Just another stressed out moment we did not see coming.  We are learning to take it on the chin, get back up before the count of 10, and live to fight another round.  Luckily, boxing is our favorite sport.   In fact, I would love to beat someone up right now with a whole room full of people watching and get paid for it.   I could'a been a contender.   

Yesterday the bank accepted our offer on the house we now want to buy.  Now we have to start scrambling for lender approval on that.  We also have to quickly get the house and pool inspected because we are shooting for a closing at the end of April.

We are moving from the Red Roof Inn to a travel trailer in a RV vacation resort today.  Should be there for up to 2 months, depending on when our house closing is and what work we have to do to the house before we move in.  Most of the other people who are staying at the resort are on vacation, so I think maybe we will pretend we are, too.  They gave us a great deal and they were the only place we found to rent to us month by month, so we pretty much had to take it.   The monthly rent is 1/4 of what we are paying at the motel.  That makes me so happy.  The travel trailer seems GREAT in comparison to the motel room.  Although, the Red Roof Inn was not as bad as you might think.  Anyway, we are now off to live in sunny, concrete vacation land. 

STILL haven't closed on our house up in New York.    Getting nervous about that.  

Settle Down!

The people who live next door to our daughter's family have odd ideas about reality.  Of more concern is that since M&MV&E&N moved in last summer, these neighbors have been displaying "big nutball" behavior towards our granddaughter, E.

They have two daughters who E plays with and their parents often judge E harshly because she does not go to church, and they try to make her feel bad about herself and her family.  And the reason they know she does not attend a church is because they quizzed her about it the very first time she was in their house, alone, without her parents.  They NEVER talk to E's parents about these things, by the way.

E is very imaginative and created a "game" all the neighborhood kids are now playing involving wizards turning kids into animals.  Fun stuff if you remember what it was like to be a kid.  The neighbors told them to stop playing wizards because it was "demonic" and then made my granddaughter go home.

These same neighbors called the police on M&MV when M&MV first moved in because they had a moving pod parked in front of the house over a weekend...waiting to be picked up.  They have been telling other neighbors that M&MV are Satanists because M&MV have a collection of Mexican Alebrije (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alebrije) and also Day-of-The-Dead painted skeletons.  (These are actually Mexican Catholic religious icons "The meaning of the Dias de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead figures in Mexico is to honor those who have died. The figurines are often colorful and playful. They are meant to represent the individuals who have passed away."  see http://www.ask.com/question/what-is-the-meaning-of-the-day-of-the-dead-dolls-in-mexico).  Well, apparently to fearful and narrow minded people these kitschy decorations appear to be proof of devil worship.   Seriously.   It boggles the mind.

This constant judgment, criticism, and general meanness of spirit directed towards 10 year old E has been heartbreaking and confusing for her.  Last night she was at their house playing, was scolded and sent home. You can imagine how upset she was.  Her father, MV, went over to talk with the mother and I tagged along.  Not one of my best ideas.  I told the neighbor lady to leave my granddaughter alone (and maybe some other stuff) 😜 and then she ordered me off her property.  OK, I might have then said something along the lines of: "Fine!  I'll just walk over to their property line and stand THERE and yell at you."  Hopefully MV had a more productive discussion with her after I was "sent home" (seemingly a common theme for visitors at their house).  I know I misbehaved, but I could not help myself.   Sigh....  I hope they do not try to burn me at the stake.

Moving

The movers came and packed everything up on Monday morning.  We cleaned and then left the house mid-afternoon.  That was very stressful but went well.  It was also all consuming, which was probably for the best.  We did not even notice we were leaving the house for the last time when we drove away because we were too busy fighting about which direction to go in.  Typical “us.”  We decided to let the GPS make the final decision, and the damn thing chose T’s route.  That was annoying.  Consequently, the fact that we had left our home of 24 years for the last time did not hit me for about 20 miles.  Truthfully, it was much easier that way.

We drove about 8 hours and stopped for the night in Staunton, Virginia at a Comfort Inn.   Buddy was zonked on cat downers and was remarkably good.  

The next day we stopped at a rest stop outside of Savanna and noticed that the Stella d'Ora day lilies were just about ready to bloom.  I was so happy and then I remembered that I no longer have any flowers.  Sigh.  Hope the next few weeks are happily productive.  It is a strange time. Still I am excited.

Oh yeah, the Florida house fell through.   The realtor called us in tears two days before we left and she let us know Fannie Mae was canceling the sale because they couldn't get the deed in lieu of foreclosure from the previous owners.  That means the previous owners still own it and Fannie Mae will have to go through the foreclosure process to get clear title to the house. It will take months and then they will have to open it up for offers again.  They said we could bid on it when that happens, but obviously we are done. So we are going to have to start over.  Unbelievable.  We are in good humor, though, and are determined to make the best of this chaotic transition without losing our minds.   There is no acceptable alternative.  

Sheesh

Well, I am not sure how to say this without sounding overly dramatic or even pathetic - but we are moving on Monday, March 24 and when we get down to Florida we will be checking into the Red Roof Inn for God knows how long with our cat, Buddy in tow.  We may be there for a couple of months.  Homeless.  Can you believe it?  

The movers will move all our earthly belongings into a rented storage unit in our new “Florida home town without a home.”  We are absolutely at the mercy of Fannie Mae, and they could not care less. They refuse to let us rent until they resolve the damn "deed-in-lieu of foreclosure" issue.  They cannot give us any indication whatsoever about when the closing will be except that "It could be this week, it could be 2 months from now."  Unless we want to cancel the offer the next time they ask for an extension, we have no choice but to wait. We have no choice, no control, just seething anger and dismay.  The feisty old dame in me wants to tell them to shove it (with great force); however, cancelling the offer means we will have to start the house hunting process all over again, which would also take a couple of months. We really like the house and have painfully negotiated a good deal.   Call it denial, desperation, bad decision, but we are not ready to cancel and are going to wait it out at least for another month.  In Florida, in a motel room with T, cat Buddy, and me.  I can hardly convey this information without laughing hysterically.  I feel that instead of writing a blog, I should be writing a screenplay about our life.  Or a pilot for a situation comedy.  And the TV show could easily be called The Aging Female Baby Boomer, because I am aging REALLY fast these days.

As indicated in an earlier post, this sloppiness and continued requests for delayed closing is all too common with Fannie Mae foreclosures since the housing crisis started a few years ago.   It is, as my Mother would say, “A sin and a shame.” 

Stay tuned for the continuing adventures of T, C, and Buddy makes 3.   We are determined to both maintain our sanity and have a good time, assuming our marriage lasts.  Buddy is going to be miserable.   Bless his heart.  

More of the Same

New York house:
We talked to the lawyer yesterday and he is fairly confident the closing will be in the last week of March.   So far all "seems" well with that closing.  Of course, anything could happen at any minute.  I am vigilant and prepared, positively dripping with anxiety.  I have not closed my eyes or turned my back for weeks.  I SO want to leave this old house before the snow melts so I will not be reminded about the perennial beds we are leaving, nor be tempted to start weeding and mulching.   We threw away our wheelbarrow, so would not be able to start mulching anyway.   I am not sure what I think about living a life without a wheelbarrow, by the way.  It is disconcerting.  It will be one of our first purchases in Florida.

Florida house:

Talk about annoying... Fannie Mae does not seem to care about the house or our predicament.  As I mentioned in an earlier post, it seems they "misplaced" the deed-in-lieu of foreclosure from the previous owners and now have to track them down and get it.  In the meantime, we are at their mercy.  Because they are a mindless government bureaucracy, they will NOT let us move in and rent before the closing can take place. "Not their policy." It is like talking to a machine. Our Florida realtor has been valiant and proactive trying to get information and push them along.  So has our lender's agent.  I now have close personal relationships with both those women!  I love the Southern girls.  They are kind and friendly and hardworking.  However, if my realtor tells me "Everything happens for a reason" one more time I may say something I will most certainly regret. 

Moving:

We have rescheduled our move date with our movers three times...   It is embarrassing, and if the closing on this house is March 28th, then we really need to get out of town soon. Yesterday we made the decision to have the movers come early on the last week of March.  We will then hit the road (with our cat Buddy) later that week - depending on how the cleaning goes.  We found a pet friendly motel in Rocky Mount, NC.  If we have not closed on the Florida house by the time we arrive we may have to put poor Buddy in a kennel until we find a place to stay.  We are asking the movers to wait until after the 28th to deliver our stuff in Florida in hopes that we can take possession of the house by then (we live in hope).  If we have not closed and there is still indeterminate bullshit going on with the closing we will have the movers put all our earthly belongings in storage down there. We will then find a place to rent on a short term basis that allows pets and rent month by month until either we close on the house we want, or we find another place to buy.  Un*&^$@!#believable! We probably could negotiate with the new owners to rent back our current home for another month, but we decided not to.  We are tired of waiting. We want to leave before the spring gardening season hits.  And if all falls through and we are forced to start looking for a new Florida house, then we want to be down there to do it.  In the meantime, the key word is "adventure." 

We are still packing, still hauling junk to the curb, still taking bits and pieces to the Salvation Army. 

This is not fun.

That Nagging Bright Side Thing:
However, in spite of everything, I must admit there is still this spark deep inside me that promises everything.  It is the same spark that used to ignite when I skipped school in high school.  It is that "run away" spark that promises escape, excitement, and fun.  It keeps me going.  That, and knowing I will soon be playing with my grandchildren on a regular basis.  Playing can be done whether we are in a house with a pool or stuck in a seedy motel.  Of course, their parents probably won't let them come to the seedy motel.   Not to worry, they have a house with a pool.  Darn it Bright Side, you think of everything!

Once this buy/move/sell thing is behind me I really have to write about the joys of skipping school.   

Glitches Galore

The process of selling the house in NYS is moving along fairly well.  The closing date is tentatively March 29th.  But as we have learned, and we have learned a lot recently, nothing is set in stone.  We have a few things to do/repair as a result of the inspection.  It is not surprising that we have to spend some money to sell this place, it being an old house and all that.  We just want it all to work out and be done with it.   We want to move.

We will not be leaving NYS on March 7th after all.  In fact, we probably will not move until towards the end of the month.  We are still having problems closing on the Florida house.  That house, like so many Florida houses, is a foreclosure and is being sold by Fannie Mae - a notoriously difficult proposition. Apparently (and unbeknownst to us until recently) the original owners had offered to give Fannie Mae a "deed in lieu," which essentially turns the house over without having to go through the expense and ordeal of foreclosure. 

Well, Fannie Mae either did not actually get that deed in lieu or cannot find it.  It is not clear which.  As the February 21st closing date approached they became aware that they did not have it and so could not meet that deadline.  They asked for a week's extension to Feb 28th, which we signed off on, even though we had driven down to Florida for the Feb 21st closing.  On Feb 28th they still had not received it so they then asked for a new extension pushing the closing to March 28th. Silly us thought it was a "request." We gave them a March 20th extension thinking it would keep the pressure on them to find the damn paperwork.   Then we rescheduled our movers.  Yesterday we got notification from Fannie Mae (via our FL realtor) that they were not messing around on the March 28th date and if we did not sign a new agreement pushing the closing date to March 28th they would cancel the contract and we would be without a house.  As you can imagine we complied.  Lesson learned. 

Fannie Mae is in now charge of our lives.  Good to know.  Currently the tentative closing is March 28th.  Of course this is cutting it kind of close and we are hoping we do not have to reschedule the movers a third time.  Fannie Mae could still get that deed in lieu any day and the closing then could happen ASAP.  One never knows what will happen next and occasionally something good happens.  It is (not so) simple math.  Probability or something like that.  After all this trauma with buying and selling, when something good does happens it always feels so gloriously good.   Like Christmas.  Like the Cavalry arriving.  Like Mighty Mouse swooping down from the sky ("Here he comes to save the DAYYYYY!").  

We "took the weekend off" by going into deep denial mode, a mental vacation of sorts.  It helped.   Feeling a bit better today.   Almost time for a repair man to arrive.   Gotta go.

Stress

Friday was a huge stress day.  It was the first showing of our NYS house to prospective buyers.  Saturday there were two more!  We are happy that there is interest. We have cleaned and cleaned, organized, packed, de-cluttered, and hidden things away in the closets and pantry.  I am driving T crazy with my frenetic anxiety.  I made him wait while we were about to leave before the first viewing so I could quickly clean the toaster oven on our way out.  It caught my eye and begged to be cleaned.  You would have done the same thing if you saw how dirty it was.  Unless, of course, you are a man with your coat on and one foot already out of the door.  Anyone who has sold a house knows how disruptive this process is.  First of all, you have to leave the house and find someplace to go during the showing, all the while struggling to forget that strangers are back at your house judging your furniture and commenting on the ridiculous colors you painted the bedrooms.  Even when no showings are scheduled you cannot relax into comfortable self-indulgence because the house needs to stay clean.  I am trying to just let go and not care.  It is what it is. 

We have extensive flower gardens and the 1.6 acres are lovely in spring, summer, and fall.  They would be a big plus in selling this place if only people knew they were there.  Currently they are covered in at least a foot of snow and everything out back is gray and frozen.  My sister, ERB, suggested I leave out photos of the yard and flowers so prospective buyers can get some idea of the yard.  Thanks ERB.  It was fun putting a photo board together of the yard.  It felt like I was staging a wake for the gardens.  I guess I am, for me and mine.  Truthfully, it is easier for us to let go of this place in the winter because we cannot see what we are giving up.   As much as I will miss the Zone 5 flowers, I have to remind myself that the thrill of extreme gardening has been gone for a few years now.   We did that, and it is time to do something else.   Like figure out what can grow and thrive in Zone 9. 

Then we got a call from our Florida realtor telling us that the title company is having trouble with the deed on the house we are buying.  It will be resolved but they cannot guarantee it will be resolved by our scheduled closing date – which means it may have to be rescheduled.  We have already booked non-refundable air tickets to go down for the closing we have been expecting.  AND, we have booked the movers to move our stuff down two weeks after the originally scheduled closing.  Plus, our closing date was the absolute last day that the bank (the seller) was allowing.   What the hell?  

I am not a “go with the flow” kind of person.   I want to know exactly what is going to happen next.  OK – taking a deep breath now.   This, too, shall pass.

Still looking for that damn bright side…  Maybe living through this will enable me to reduce my time in Purgatory by a couple of days?  Maybe things will work out quickly and easily?  Stay tuned.

An Adventure in Time and Space

I am back home.  I spent a night stranded in the Detroit airport.  I never made it to Indiana because of multi-day, weather-related flight cancellations.  My Mom is doing better and has started eating.  She has left the hospital and returned to the nursing home.  You can stop reading right now if you do not want to hear the gory details. 

The Gory Details:

I flew to Detroit at 3:32 pm Monday afternoon, totally expecting to connect with my 8:05 pm flight to see my Mom.  Before I left, my sister called to tell me 1. There was a blizzard there with extreme, record breaking cold, and 2. My mom was eating, talking, and generally bouncing back well enough that they were moving her out of the hospital and back to the nursing home.  In retrospect, I should have cancelled then; but nonrefundable tickets being what they are, I figured I would take my chances and at worst spend a night in the hotel.  I am currently trying to change my life for the better by being more positive and trying to look on the bright side.   Plus, I really, really wanted to see my mother and my extended family.  

My destination is in Northern Indiana near Chicago.  When I checked in to start my trip on Monday afternoon I was told I had two options once I arrived in Detroit; I could either get a 5:45 pm flight out (for which I was on standby) or an 8:05 pm flight (the flight I originally booked).  I was thrilled to have two options – it gave me false hope that the weather in the Midwest was getting better, and as a control freak I like options a lot.  I was happy.  Once I boarded the plane, the stewardess came to tell me that the 8:05 pm flight was cancelled, so I should try to get on the 5:45 pm flight.  I was immediately less happy.  I was also little worried about making it because there was so little time between the landing of my plane and the boarding of the 5:45 plane. Endless games of solitaire on my iPad and a strong family tradition of denial helped me achieve a state of perfect calm.  Once we arrived in Detroit I ran to the nearest Delta information desk only to discover that all flights that day (Monday) were now cancelled.  I was not happy at all.  She sent me to “Gate 43” where all rescheduling was done.   I scurried to Gate 43, dragging my luggage with me.  It was quite the classic airport scene as people at the gate were told they were now stuck in Detroit overnight.   After waiting in line, a very sweet Delta airlines representative (I will call her Delta Lady #1) told me she could put me on a flight at 8:05 p.m. on Tuesday night.  I snapped at her and immediately apologized, saying I was sorry, but I was just angry.  She looked me in the eye with the liquid promise of loving salvation and said “Oh, don’t get angry!  Everything happens for a reason.”   In my mind my eyes were rolling towards the back of my head.   Ok, maybe they were in reality, too.   But at that very moment, I knew that Delta Lady #1 was on to something and that I needed to relax and try to enjoy the experience, because truthfully the only alternative was trauma and fear.  I had a choice to make.  I needed to believe.  Then I told her that my mother was sick and I really had to get there sooner.  Yes, I actually used the sick mother card!  I have no shame.  ‘Cause, well, I really do have a sick mother and I really have no shame.  Delta Lady #1 was super kind and caring.  She was able to put me on an earlier flight to Indiana leaving at 8:46 am on Tuesday morning.  I was thrilled.   I was also ready to find that reason and experience the bright side.   Who knew, it was so crazy it might even work.   Perhaps this awful experience was going to change my life?   Yes, I was alone in the Detroit airport and I was stark raving mad.    

The flights were cancelled due to “an act of nature” which is airline code for “the airlines will not pay for hotel rooms.”  However, they passed out discount tickets to motels surrounding the airport.  That, of course meant that one had to compete with the poor, unfortunate rescheduled masses and call one motel after the other until reservations could be made, arrange for a shuttle to pick you up, figure out how to get outside the airport to the right spot, and wait in the extreme cold until a shuttle has room to pick up up along with everyone else. All this is required to spend one fitful night in a seedy motel in the outskirts of DETROIT, for crying out loud.  I have had this “discount motel” experience before when flying through and getting stuck in Philly, thank you very much.   Back then, T and I ended up waiting outside in the cold for hours with many angry strangers until a shuttle actually stopped to pick us up.  It was beyond unpleasant.  I was younger then and with my husband, who is much more level-headed than me.  On Monday’s trip I was 62 years old, alone, and stark raving mad!  And considering this particular flying experience was in the midst of the 2014 Polar Vortex, I opted to stay in the airport’s Westin Hotel.   It is a lovely hotel inside the airport.  Way more money, but you know…I’m worth it, and all that crap.  

LOVED the hotel.  Maybe this was the bright side?  I settled into my lovely room at the safe and convenient Westin.   I was thinking how sinfully relaxing it was to be in a great room with millions of pillows and a huge bed all to myself when I got THE call from Automated Delta Man#1 - I was informed that my 8:46 am flight out was now cancelled and I would have to call a certain number to get another flight.   I sighed deeply and called, only to discover from Automated Delta Man #2 that there was an hour to an hour and a half wait just to get a call-back.  So I dialed my place in “line” and then waited for my call back.  An hour later I got the call and was helped by sweet, kind, compassionate Delta Lady #2.   These ladies are dynamite, by the way.  In truth, I congratulate their trainers because they simply ooze kindness.  By then I was ready to explode, so their kindness was the only thing keeping my bad temper in check.  I surrendered to their compassionate professionalism.  Delta Lady #2 softly and sadly informed me that the only remaining option was a Wednesday afternoon flight.   That meant I would have to spend two and a half days in the Detroit airport.   I said no, just send me back to NYS tomorrow.   She reassured me that she would but wanted to check into a few things concerning a refund for which she would put me on hold.  I waited for a long time (playing solitaire like crazy) and I was eventually disconnected.   I waited a few minutes but she did not call me back.  I called the same number and Automated Delta Man #3 put on the waiting list again for a call back.  This time it only took 45 minutes to be called back.  Delta Lady #3 was another treasure of grace and composure.   She confirmed that I was on a flight from Detroit to NYS at 10:00 am the next morning.   Yay!!!!   Delta Lady #2 had pulled it off.  Delta Lady #3 was happy that I was happy.   Happy?  By God, I was positively giddy.  I was going home.  I almost cried.   I tried to watch Swamp People on the History channel, but I was so exhausted that I had to just turn off the light and go to sleep.  

The next morning I got up and caught the flight home.   I only had to wait on the tarmac for an hour while they fussed with some mysterious mechanical problem.   I had my iPad and played solitaire.   I am only $750 poorer.   Sheesh.   This looking on the bright side stuff is really hard work. 

My Mom

My mother is 87 years old and is experiencing the advanced stages of Parkinson's Disease.  Consequently, she has recently moved into a nursing home.   

My parents always owned their own house.  When my father died in 1996, my mother continued to live alone in the family house for a number of years.  Eventually, it became too much for her, she sold the house and moved to an apartment. When it became clear that she was no longer safe living alone she moved again, this time into an assisted living community.  There she had her own private efficiency apartment within the larger setting.  She is a quiet, private person, shy even, but she seemed to enjoy assisted living.  At first it was hard for her to be in a setting with so many other people around.  However, she became accustomed to the apartment-based living arrangement and it felt like home to her.   She would use her walker to go down to the dining hall for lunch and dinner, but chose to have breakfast alone in her apartment.  In the last few years she chose to stay in her apartment more and more, and she no longer participated in the social events that were organized for the participants.  She lived a simple life, and she did not socialize much.  She has never been a very social person, so her gradual withdrawal seemed fairly normal to the family.

Just before Christmas, she was moved into a nursing home.  She could no longer dress herself or go to the bathroom alone.  Walking with a walker had become increasingly problematic.  She needed more care than she could afford in assisted living, where each assisted task is charged on an individual basis.  Although her mind remains sharp, her body has been ravaged.   Parkinson’s is a progressive disease.  She now needs professional care round the clock.  It has become that time of her life we all knew would eventually come, but all tried not to think about it until we had to.   It sucks…

I cannot imagine any one wants to move into a nursing home.  The loss of privacy represents a loss of dignity.  We are a family of limited means.  For people like us once a parent’s money has been depleted, and if the children are not wealthy, nursing home care means a shared room and Medicaid.   In our capitalist society you get what you pay for.  I have no illusions about it being any different when I am old and infirm.  All of her social security and small pension now go the nursing home.  The difference between her fixed income and the total cost of nursing care and medication is paid for by Medicaid.  Theoretically she gets to keep a little over $50 per month from the income stream. Beyond that her children pay for her telephone, newspaper, and getting her hair done.  We try to pick up or send her cookies, pretzels, and hard candy for her room.  Her roommate does not even have a television, so my mother shares hers with the roommate.  It seems like a nice place in many ways, it is clean, the food is good, the aides are kindly, and the nurses are competent.  Still, the economics are such that places like this are routinely understaffed.  Waiting for help with basic needs is the norm.  Betty Davis once said “Growing old ain’t for sissies!”  Too true.  Under these circumstances elderly people are heroic, striving to derive pleasure and joy when they can.   If the food is prepared well and tastes good, they all talk about it.  If they watch sports and their team wins, they are thrilled.  If a family member or old friends comes to visit, they appreciate it.  A card in the mail screams “Someone cares about you!”  Every kindness is treasured.  

Apparently when the elderly get urinary tract infections (UTI) they can become confused and agitated, very much like dementia.  The confusion goes away after a few days of antibiotics.  It is apparently a common phenomenon in a nursing facility.  This happened to my sweet Mother last week, in the first month of her stay at the nursing home.   Mom has not displayed dementia previously, except for a short-term incident about 8 years ago related to and following major surgery.  So we were concerned last week when her caregiver, our sister ERB, stopped by to see her after work and found her to be a bit out of touch with reality.  Mom insisted certain things happened that did not happen and was seeing and talking to people who were not there.  When ERB reported it to the nurse, the nurse said it was likely a UTI and she would have the doctor check it out.  Sure enough, that is what she has.  However, today is day 4 of the antibiotic and she is still slipping in and out of reality.   Disturbing.  In the words of my sister ERB, “I want my Mom back.”  

Buying, Moving, and Selling

BUYING:
It is likely we will actually buy the house we have an offer on in Florida.  The offer has been accepted.  An actual closing date is being proposed.   We have been pre-approved for the loan.   Now the fun (NOT!) begins.

We are having some more problems with the Florida house re-inspection.  Sheesh.  I hate those *$#@! bankers.   They did a half-assed job of fixing something from the previous inspection (which resulted in us walking away from this house the first time around, back in November - and, by God, don't think we won't do it again!).  Now we have to fight nearly the same fight all over again.   The house is a foreclosure and unfortunately the owners are not in the picture.  It is Fannie Mae and the bankers are in charge.  They do not seem to care one bit about the house and the damage they will do to it if they do not fix things correctly.  Soul-less, limited vision, greedy, liars, cheaters, blah, blah, blah.   I really cannot get started on this right now.  Will get back to you with more on that later - too fresh to talk about without filling me with anxiety and provoking a full-on rant attack.  And it hasn't been resolved one way or another yet.   Hopefully tomorrow.   

I hate, hate, hate this stuff.  It reminds me too much of work but without the authority I was used to.  Work was not personal, so I could make decisions and play hardball and feel like it was a fun game that was mine to win.  This, however, is my life.  And I cannot just make all the decisions on my own.  I have to compromise and present a united front with my husband/partner, T.  If you have ever been in a relationship with another human being you know that rarely do two people ever agree on everything.  Or maybe anything.  But certainly never on how to direct a negotiation.  The inherent differences between two people's tolerance for risk are all too clear when they have to come together as one unit in the midst of an external negotiation process.  The struggle for two people to compromise in order to present a united front is mindboggling!  Seriously, it gets complicated.  It would probably be easier if one of us was a passive type.  But no, we cannot even slow dance together because I am unable to follow his lead.  I am not kidding.  We were both managers for many years and we are both used to being in charge at work.  This "buying a home" thing is good experience for us to learn to compromise and share power and authority in our old age.   Finally, after 42 1/2 years together!  We are making headway - mostly because HE is a rational person.  I will be so happy when buying, moving, and selling are all behind us and we can get back to settling into retirement.  

MOVING:

We want to interview a couple of realtors for selling our old house in NYS and get a few estimates from movers for moving our stuff down to Florida.   We had one well known moving company come and give us an estimate last week - really liked the estimator and we think we got a good quote.   Either this is going to be the easy part of the relocation, or it simply has not progressed to the part of the moving process that will drive me crazy.

SELLING:
We have been de-cluttering like crazy, and packing slowly but surely.   We are also painting some rooms, replacing things, cleaning, and generally trying to get the house to look good.  We finally met with a realtor the other day.  He is the son of a friend, fairly new to the game, but middle-aged and reinventing himself as a realtor after a successful career in the construction business.  I like his energy and enthusiasm (and sheer joy), but will also call a second, more experienced realtor and compare their services.  The more established realtor is someone our daughter used when she and MV lived up north.  I will confess to a worry about the more established of the two being motivated to sell a funky old house like ours out in the boondocks.  This place will not represent a lot of money for a realtor, and I worry the more established one is used to a different clientele and a higher profit.  The newer one seems "hungry" to make some sales and create a reputation.  He also grew up in this neck of the woods and understands the "rural life" and the people inhabiting the area.  If red flags are popping up in your mind, please do not worry.  We still have an open mind.  Really.   :)