Hey, not dead yet!

So, we made the move.  It was rough.  The puffed up pile of "used car sales wouldn't have him" real estate agent said we'll get our entire deposit back.  Said we left the place better than we found it.  Which we did.

It's been 48 days, still no deposit.  This is the guy who, at the first "landlord is selling" get-together, insisted that state law requires a deposit be returned within TEN days.  Luckily, we knew he was lying even as it rolled off his tongue, so we're not too panicked yet.  Yeah, he said that to keep us from making any "we won't leave" noises.

What an asshole.

While the law seems to say we should have had the deposit back within 45 days, the renter protection laws here only speak to landlords with more than a certain number of properties (I believe it's five). We emailed the landlord last week, and he has--can you guess?  That's right, not answered.  Because that's what Scott does.  He doesn't answer.  For weeks.  My money is on this--he didn't keep the $1950 deposit set aside for refund.  He threw it in with his cash and is now near-bankrupt and doesn't have it.  The old place STILL hasn't sold.  Remember how they told us we couldn't stay until it sold because "houses in this neighborhood don't last a week in this market?"  Yeah, my ass.  I knew that was a lie then.  Not only is our old place still on the  market (it went on the market July 1st--you do the math), but remember how they tried to palm it off on us?  For "low 300s?"

The price has been reduced a number of times now.  They're now asking 249K.  In other words, they tried to rip us off for over fifty grand.

Next step is, I guess, to send a demand for our deposit via certified mail.  And then, I guess, small claims.  Which is incredibly scary because there is the chance that, even though we have the pristine walk-through in writing, even though the time period allowable for submitting deductions from the deposit is well gone by, we could wind up with a judge who decided he likes landlords more than he likes tenants.  We could wind up with a judge who is an old golfing buddy of Scott's.  He has a lot of them around here.

It is so unfair that he would do this to us.  By his own reckoning, we were "the best tenants ever."  By his agent's reckoning, we "left the place in better shape than it was at move-in."

Way to reinforce the "scuzzbucket slumlord/all landlords are thieves" stereotype, Scott.

==============================

So, other things have changed.  Pretty big changes.  Our boy, who has been homeschooled since day one, announced that he wanted to go to school.  Understand, this is an abrupt about-face--every time I've suggested it, even as recently as last spring, he's shut me down with pleas to not make him.  He sprung this on me a mere two weeks before the start of school, and made it clear how important it was to him.  At first, I demurred, and he became very despondent, saying he understood, it was a stupid idea.  Broke my heart.  Understand, I have NO experience with the public school system, other than my own 30+ years ago.  I scrambled, I hoop-jumped, and I got it done.

We decided on part-time, just a couple of classes.  That way, if it turns out it's horrid and he hates it, it's not a huge deal.  So it's a sort of "getting his feet wet" thing.  He's got Guitar Ensemble and French.  He seems to be enjoying it, and he's making friends.  He joined the Gamer's Club, Drama Club, and the Planning Committee.  Has get-togethers at a local burger joint and a sleep-over this weekend.  He gets to have his picture in the yearbook, and was even issued a laptop.

He's excited.  So are we.  I hope it turns out to be all that he wants.  

Silly as it will sound, the lack of yearbooks has always troubled me.  Hubby and I both have all our yearbooks, and I've always been sad that our boy wouldn't have that.  Now he will.

==============================

Haven't been to a doctor since January.  I'm having a terrible time with my weight, and I just can't bring myself to deal with the constant, devastating disapproval from doctors.  It's hit the point where I am just so humiliated and so completely overwhelmed with anxiety that not going is the only option I see.  I know how stupid that is, I do.  But I just can't.  Walk in, first thing they do is throw you on the scale and an eyebrow cocks just a little.  Stress so bad by the time they take the blood pressure that it feels like a full-blown anxiety attack is in the offing.  Doctor finally comes in, and the disapproval is palpable.  Is that disdain in her exotic eyes?  Doesn't matter, because it feels like it.  I'm almost in tears just typing this.  So I don't go.  

===============================

The new place, btw.  You know all those horrendous, petty, obstructionist, self-righteous nightmare stories you've ever heard about home owners associations?

Yeah.  First thing, first day, we ask the real estate agent if we can put in a gate so our dog doesn't run away.  Yeah, fenced yard, no gate.  He says we can't, HOA won't allow it.  Yet we've driven around and some folks have gates.  Some are nice matching gates, some are cheap, fake wrought iron that don't match at all, some are plastic baby gates, and some, like our next-door-neighbor's, are crappy white latticework leaned against the gate posts.  So we took two solid boards, put them together, painted them to match the fence, and attached magnets to lightly keep the thing in place without it actually being attached.  It took ONE day for a note to be taped to it, telling us that it's not approved, and giving us an application to the design board.  Problem is, the design board application requires permission of all neighbors/OWNERS whose properties adjoin OR who can SEE the "addition."   Yeah, not likely; these are all rentals, none of the OWNERS actually live here.  Plus, plans, photos, proposed paint colors, and cost/construction proposals must be submitted in advance.  

For a damned barrier to keep the dog in.

So we figured maybe it was too tall.  So we disassembled it, removed the magnets, and just leaned it like the folks next door with the cheap, ugly latticework.  We were taking it up when the dog came back in, but one evening we forgot.  By 7 am the next morning, another note, nastier, telling us that the "partial barrier is unapproved."  Again telling us we must submit an application.   And then another nasty note, telling us that we cannot have bird feeders in any form.  Which means I'm stuck for at least two years with no birds.  Bastards.   I cried while taking them down.

I was very upset, made my way to the website to read the HOA guidelines and there was no mention of bird feeders (though there was mention of bird baths, which was scary).  But then I dug deeper, and discovered we're not in that particular HOA--we're in a SUB-HOA specifically for Condos.  And it doesn't allow gates AT ALL.  Because our front yards are considered part of the "open area."  That's right--our front lawn is actually part of their open space.  No wonder they MOW it.  

So, in other words, their nosy-assed neighborhood narc is handing out design applications that will not be approved because we're in the Condo area.

Thanks, folks.

==========================

Here are some pics of the new place--it's not as nice as the old, but it's also not awful.  The carpet is a cheap Berber, which concerns me on the vacuuming front, and the master bedroom is a giant (19x19) loft-type set-up with no door.  The stairs are murder on my knees (four flights of 8 stairs a pop to get to the bedroom), and the kitchen is minuscule (we had to leave most of our cooking stuff packed because there's just no room).  But the blinds are nice, and the front yard is nice (even if we can't have a damned gate), and the stove is gas.  The tubs are slightly larger, and being two floors up keeps the TV from driving me nutty at night.  We don't know much about the neighbors (other than the chain-smokers across the way who throw loud parties and beat each other up), but those awful rat-children are no longer our neighbors, and that is everything.  I can let our boy walk to school or Hapkido without worrying that those kids are going to ambush him.

So, all in all, it works out slightly to the better.  And I will take that any day.

And finally?  If you're reading this and you see an Amazon.com shopping spree for Christmas in your future, please consider using my Amazon link, which is the search widget below.  This public school thing, with yearbooks, ensemble uniforms, daily lunches, etc., is pretty pricey.  Christmas is coming, and every bit helps, especially with the landlord tugging us about on the deposit.

Smart Women, Stupid Women, Marriage Equality and Your Right to Remain Silent

First off, right off the bat, WENDY!

That's right, Wendy Davis--holy cow, what an amazing person, huh?  Wendy for Governor, Wendy for Senate, Wendy for President!  Thank you, Wendy, for putting yourself out there for women.  I hope you can turn Texas BLUE!

Here's a video from her last campaign, and I'm posting it because it segues into something else I wanted to discuss:



You see, just a couple of days ago, I saw a piece about what may possibly be the most ill-informed woman alive.

Jodie Laubenberg

Yes, that's a live link.

Now, Ms. Laubenberg, who has been stumping for an amazingly restrictive abortion law in, of course, where else, TEXAS, stated that (and I'm paraphrasing here) there's no reason to keep abortion safe, legal, and available, because women can just go to the emergency room and have a RAPE KIT performed.  Which, according to this silly person, "cleans women out."

I may scream myself to DEATH.  

I spent years working with rape and domestic abuse victims, mostly in the Emergency Room.  I'm wondering, Ma'am, precisely what part of a RAPE KIT "cleans a woman out?"  Is it the swabs for gathering DNA/semen samples from the victim's rectum, vagina, and/or mouth?  The baggies and vials into which those swabs are deposited?  Perhaps it's the DROP CLOTH the victim is required to stand on as she removes her clothing (meant to catch any evidence that may drop off as she disrobes).  Maybe it's the PUBIC COMB used to comb through the victims pubic hairs in search of any left behind by her attacker?  The fine-toothed comb used on her head for the purpose of finding her attacker's hairs?  Is it maybe the combing and sampling done to her loved ones and friends to eliminate their evidence from consideration?  Oh, wait, I know!  Duh!  It's the little "orange sticks" used to dig evidence out from under the victim's fingernails, isn't it?

You misinformed (and misinforming) woman.  You slow, dangerous creature.  It's bad enough when mean, cruel old men turn on women, but when one of our own does it, and does it in such a spectacularly Sarah Palin-ish way, it's particularly painful.

And enraging.

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So, this meme came across my wall yesterday.  Not the first time.  Heck, might not be the first time I've blogged about it.  But, as always, it got me going.

Okay, one, I almost never share anything that admonishes me to share.  It's just a thing.  Two?

I don't necessarily agree.  There are . . . issues.

First, when I shop ANYWHERE with employees who have kids, I'm helping with dance lessons, team jerseys, moms and dads putting food on the tables, paying mortgages, etc.  That goes without saying, and I find it disingenuous to suggest that those things are only true if I shop small and local. That said, I do NOT shop Walmart.  Why?   Well, because their business model offends me and their treatment of employees horrifies me. I shop Wegmans and Costco, both of which are known for their fair treatment of workers.

In addition, shopping small and local is, almost by definition, more expensive.  Some of us are able to make that financial leap.  For others?  Not so much.  Plus, shopping small and local often leaves us either unable to find products we need OR having to drive from place to place to shop rather than doing it all at one central location.

Which  brings us to the environmental impact of shopping small and local.  It can be a CO2 disaster.  It can be a pesticide and herbicide disaster.  It can be an irrigation disaster.  You see, when large operations produce large amounts of food, they tend to do it far more efficiently than small farms.  In addition, when foods are shipped en mass, it tends to produce a lot less CO2 per pound of food.  And finally, when we drive from market to market, store to store to find our locally grown foods and whatever-friendly products, we're pumping an astonishing amount of exhaust into the air and chewing through a breathtaking amount of fuel.  

I'm not arguing against locally grown or local businesses, but understand that there are trade-offs.  For the benefits (and there are benefits, to both individuals and communities as well as to any livestock involved), there are definite drawbacks.  Some smaller farms are pooling resources and combining harvests for more efficient shipping and distribution, which is wonderful.  Some are making weekly shipments to large, central distribution areas rather than having individual consumers drive dozens (or more) miles to make pick-ups.  Again, this is wonderful, and it helps address the above concerns.  Some small farmers are engaging in friendlier, more responsible, more conserving methods of irrigating, fertilizing, etc.  And, again, that's wonderful.  We should encourage that.  But the next time you gear up to go nuts on someone who shops at a larger grocery store, remember that YOUR way has it's own drawbacks and downsides.  

Here, a couple of links:

http://www.salon.com/2012/06/16/eating_local_hurts_the_planet/singleton/

http://www.freakonomics.com/2011/11/14/the-inefficiency-of-local-food/

CO2, wasted water, and chemicals aside, there's also the "opposing" side's issues of "factory farming" livestock, widespread mistreatment of animals, and the use of various substances to treat infections, encourage wowser growth, etc.  Oh, and we have the whole GMO thing going on with larger agribusiness.  So this is NOT an easy issue, and what's the TOP concern for me might not be for you.  You may have your own "thing."  It's been my experience that farmers who sell animal products at the Farmer's Market don't tend to box their animals up in small cages and treat them like hell.  That's not a guarantee, just an observation.  And that might be something that sways you.

All of that said, we shop at the Farmer's Market for specific products one day a week.  Our Farmer's Market is close (less than three miles) and the farmers who come there are, in fact, LOCAL.  They aren't driving 100 miles to sell a tiny bit of produce.  They are open about their growing practices, and those we patronize use water-saving, low-chemical methods of growing.  Still not as efficient or as clean (CO2 per pound of produce-wise) as huge agribusiness, but improving, and, for us, worth the trade-off because we're not driving from place to place and our food isn't being driven long distances in small amounts.  For us, it's worth the trade-off one day a week.  And that's what I'm talking about--I'm not condemning small growers (gosh, no!) or local businesses.  Instead, I'm saying we should all be aware of where our stuff comes from and how it gets to us rather than embracing dippy memes aimed at influencing without real information.

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An extremely mixed bag from the Supreme Court this past week or two.  On the bright side?  Well, the repeal of DOMA and the striking of Prop h8, of course, plus the decision that human genes cannot be patented.  On the not-at-all bright side?

Chewing away at the underpinnings of the Voting Rights Act.  It only took HOURS for various legislators from various "red" Southern states to start hatching plans to interfere with voters of certain "groups."  When Governor McDonnell said he was handing it over to Ken Cuccinelli, something cold grasped my heart.  Virginia is a state vulnerable to the effects of "redistricting."  Virginia is a state that has already seen interference at the poll, limited poll access, and interminable polling lines.  This can't get anything but worse.

Another not-good SCOTUS decision?  The attack on our "right to remain silent."  

If this doesn't scare the daylights out of you, it should.  Refraining from answering police questions now considered admissible evidence of guilt?  

Here, from the piece:  " . . . 

prosecutors argued that Salinas’ silence during a police interview prior to his arrest was a “very important piece of evidence” and that only a guilty person would have remained silent when questioned about his connection to a crime."

That is terrifying.  "Only a guilty person would have remained silent."  How breathtakingly McCarthyish.  How happy Edwin Meese must be right about now.

What a mess.

So, while I'm thrilled about DOMA and Prop 8 (and the gene patents), fact is, we lost a lot of ground to what has shaped up to be a conservative activist court.  The damage they do could last . . . forever.

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Boy, that was pure-D politics.  That's all I've got today.   Oh, except the Boy is 1/3 of the way through his annual exams, and seems to be doing quite well.  Love him like nobody's business, you know.

Just General Complaining

So, I got a letter Saturday.  From Farmers Auto Insurance.  Gosh, they want me.  They really want me.

It's not the first "come back to the dark side" letter I've gotten from them.  No, over the past ten years or so, they've really wasted a lot of wood pulp trying to draw me in.  

That, of course, will NEVER happen.

Why not?

Well, see, it all started back in 1993.  My husband and I had been insured through Farmers for a few years.  Really liked our agent, what a guy!  

And then I had an accident.

Understand, I wasn't driving.  I was, in fact, a passenger in my own car.  See, I'd had a beer, so I handed my keys over to a friend's roommate who hadn't been drinking.  And he wrapped my car around a tree going 60+ mph.  

I was injured (though, oddly, the guy behind the wheel wasn't).  Closed head injury, massive facial fractures, disk damage (again!), etc.  Pissed blood for a week from the lap belt hammering my bladder.  That was exciting.  

It's funny--I had no health insurance, and so, while in the ER, I refused the offer of a cosmetic surgeon to stitch up the gory hole where bone and cartilage from my nose had blasted out the front of my face upon meeting the dashboard.  Instead, I opted to have the ER physician do it because it was cheaper.  

Silly me.

My agent immediately told me not to file a claim for the car--he said that the adjusters would "total" it and that, as a result, I'd wind up owing more on the car than they would give me, which would leave me "in trouble" with the bank AND without insurance.  That sounded scary to me.  Being brain damaged, I deferred to his superior knowledge.  I didn't make a claim for the car.

When the medical adjuster came, she took one look at my face, said, "Ohhhh, honey--that's ten grand."  Nice, huh?  Then she said that the car looked perfect, was it a different 1973 Mustang we'd wrapped around a tree?"  I took her outside, showed her that the car only looked perfect from behind--the front end was demolished.  Bumper horseshoed, battery exploded, core support torn to bits, radiator gone, frame bent, fenders tweaked inward, water pump, alternator, all that fun stuff destroyed.  Oh, and the hood bent back like an accordion and the windshield shattered.  She asked when the auto adjuster was coming out, and I told her what my agent had said.

And oh, she was angry.  She said it was (and this is a direct quote) "self-serving bullshit."  She said that my agent was tugging me around in hopes of preserving his bottom-line, but that, fact was, Farmers was going to drop me like a bad habit no matter WHAT I did, so I should put in a claim for the car.  She called the adjuster, and that was that.

Turns out, she was absolutely right.  Auto adjuster came out, did everything he could to make sure I got enough for the car to either repair it or pay off the loan, plus cut me a check to buy a new car (when I say that, I mean a 2 grand check for a 1975 Camaro, lol) so I could keep my job (which I lost because my smashed up face was "scaring the customers"--thanks Ziad and Fahdi).  And then?

And then, my insurance company tripled my rates.  And when I complained?  They dropped me.  Told me I had two weeks to find another agency, because they were done with me.  

My first claim. 

In addition, they put the word out that I was a terrible risk--this according to the gentleman at Allstate who was willing to cover me (flat liability) for twice Farmers' pre-accident rates (full coverage, collision+comprehensive with towing and rental). 

Farmers smacked me so hard I bled for years.  It was years before I could get a decent rate for car insurance again.  They left me in the lurch when I was most vulnerable.  They promised to pay for my facial reconstructive surgery, but then, when my surgeon submitted the bill, they refused.  Said I had already settled and that wasn't part of the settlement because it hadn't been submitted in time. Even though they had told me clearly that the surgery would be covered.

Should I have gotten an attorney before settling?  Absolutely.  But, as they're trained to do, they patted me and hand-held me and made me feel like they really had my best interests at heart.  

Dang.

Farmers wants me?  They want my business?

When hell freezes over, kids.  Not one second before.

Not actually MY 'Stang, but an example of the year--imagine silver pre-accident, and deep green post.

So, my boy and I sort of tangled yesterday.  Or, to be more precise, he said something awful, and when I realized he wasn't joking, I cried.  

What happened?

Well, I was reading Deathly Hallows aloud to him when we got to the . . . oh, shoot, hang on.

SPOILER ALERT!

Seriously, if you haven't read the Harry Potter series in its entirety, turn back NOW.

Okay.  So we were reading Deathly Hallows, and we got to the part where Harry has just finished exploring Snape's memories in the penseive and learned that he is meant to die.  That he must die in order for the horcruxes to be destroyed and Voldemort to be mortal once more.  I paused, and said, "I don't know if I could do it.  I don't know if I could walk to my death like that--I might run the other way, I don't know."  My son said, with that adolescent moral certainty borne of almost zero life experience, "Some things are worth dying for."  I said, "True, and it's wonderful you think that, but in that situation, at that age, I don't know if I could do it--I might run."  And he said?  In a flat, condemning, disdainful tone?

"Then you're a coward."

Wow.  Wow, sweetie.

Needless to say, it was the end of the reading session.  We talked at length later, and, if nothing else, he's taken away one lesson I hope he really takes to heart--think about the effect your words are going to have before you spit them out, because once you do, they're unrecallable.  Ballistic.  So next time, before you throw out a harsh condemnation over someone's musing over a fictional hypothetical set in a magical fantasy world, consider the possible effect your words will have.  

Because that was pretty devastating to me.

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Been watching a lot of documentaries lately, most on food and food production in the United States, but last night we watched one called "The Revisionaries," about those scary, stupid people down on the Texas School Board, and their sick and terrifying methods of editing text books and rewriting history to focus on (and forward) their own particular (and peculiar) political and religious leanings.  What on EARTH is a "young earth creationist" doing editing text books?  In a public school setting?  WHY on earth are people with no grasp of science deciding what science is taught and how it's taught?  Ew!  EW!  To hear these stupid people rail against "experts" is terrifying.  How do people who demonize scientists, experts, the scientifically literate, wind up in the position of determining what goes into science textbooks?

Reason 4,566 why we homeschool.  To keep those nutbags in Texas out of our child's mind and out of his science and social studies education.  

It was hard to refrain from throwing things.  

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Speaking of homeschooling, saw a bit in the paper this morning about Ogden City Schools--the district our boy would have attended, had we chosen that route.  It was a story about a girl who's been told she cannot walk across that stage to get her diploma unless her family coughs up hundreds of dollars to pay for "unexcused absences and 'U' Citizenship grades."

Okay, a few things.  

One?  If she has so many absences that it's negatively affected her ability to earn the required credits, then she can't graduate because she's short on credits.  If she managed to do the work required to graduate, then shut up about her attendance and let her walk with her class.  

And two?  "Citizenship" grades are a BS concept whose time had passed about the time the entire idea was dreamed up.  Subjective, without constructive usefulness, and often a tool for teachers to enforce a morality or express disapproval in a way that, apparently, damages the child in a very real way.  If the child is disruptive, if the child's behavior is such that it makes teaching impossible, send the child to the office for discipline rather than making a snotty little mark in a snotty little grudge book and then screwing that kid up down the road with FINES.

FINES!

This reeks of yet another way for bad, lazy school districts (and yes, there was a reason we homeschooled in the first place) to rake in a little cash and use a punishment/pain model to induce compliance.  If the kid earned the grades and the credits to receive a diploma (and that's not in question--this girl and others like here will receive their diplomas . . . in the mail), then you let that kid walk.  The pettiness of denying a child/young adult their walk across that stage because they can't pay the "citizenship" fines you've assessed?

Nasty!

And the district's assertion that assessing these fees is "legal" until someone takes them to court and successfully argues against the practice?  Well, that hardly seems like a good definition of "right."  

Remember--this is the same school district that just nuked its entire adult education program, plus fired all but two of its librarians in order to save itself paying out benefits to those employees.  The adult ed program has been replaced with . . . nothing.  Another school district is going to try to take up the slack.  And the librarians?  The two left will supervise a cadre of "part time media assistants" who won't be working enough hours to earn benefits.  

Yeah, it's like the Walmart model of employment.

Oh, and this is also the same district that just told over 250 part-time reading coaches that their positions have been eliminated BUT that they're free to reapply for the few "restructured" positions that will be announced down the line.

You know, it really does look like the district has been infiltrated by wingnuts, doesn't it?

Maybe they should keep assessing those "citizenship" fines.  Otherwise, how will they pay for . . . whatever it is they actually do down there?

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And here's something ugly because . . . well, because I think I could use more pictures in this one, liven things up: