A glimpse of the other side of PSM

Last Sunday I hit the Enter button to send my reservations for the May Tulip Time Festival in Holland, Michigan. I booked a $200 Holiday Inn executive suite for three days, hoping for quiet, cleanliness, and a little extra. I haven’t been anywhere in ages, except for two trips to Memphis last year to attend a wedding and to prep a house for sale, so I’m looking forward to an excursion to any place by the water (a Cancer must!).

I did ask my son to go with me, but he declined, of course. This time was different for me, though: I knew the answer (or, in this case, just the look) that I would get before I asked, so I really just posed the question out of habit. That was new. I've always wanted him to go everywhere with me. Maybe I'm growing up?

I have visions of my taking leisurely strolls on the downtown streets, walking the beach at Lake Michigan, and, of course, tiptoeing through the tulips! We’ll see. I noticed an organ concert at a local Gothic-style church one night that I’m planning to attend. I tend to talk myself out of things like that, but I really do hope I do it.

These are baby steps, I know. They are things that most people do every day. But for someone who hasn’t thought along these lines for almost two decades, it’s a giant leap for Post Single Motherhood and ME.

Public Campaign Financing and the $3 Box

I have never completely understood the little $3 donation to the Presidential Election box on the 1040 tax form. Nor did I understand its true relation to public campaign financing. Come to find out from everything I’ve just read, neither do most Americans.

Whenever surveyed or polled or asked to comment, people either say they don’t really understand the program or that they don’t think the government needs any more of their money. I’ve said both.

The intent vs. where we are today should make anyone question the program. As it says on the IRS’ 1040 form, it was designed to “reduce candidates’ dependence on large contributions from individuals and groups and places candidates on an equal financial footing in the general election.” The idea started with Teddy Roosevelt in 1907 to curb corruption and it’s been a battle ever since its first official years of operation in the 1970’s. (It got a big boost from Nixon's election and subsequent Watergate scandal.)

But I don’t quite understand how this fund reduces dependence on private money. So much money comes from corporate and fellow millionaire fundraising, why would a candidate use this fund at all? From what I see from some contestants (I use the word purposefully), most like depending on the big money donors, because it makes their races easier and their political lives much more comfy. Besides, the spending limit is currently set at $150 million (actually it’s less, it can just be upped to this amount) and I think the going rate for presidential elections is $500 million. What candidate would go for it?

Come to find out, every President since 1976 has used the fund. If I understand correctly, they just haven’t limited themselves to the public funds.

Just last month, Barack Obama announced that, should he win the Democratic primary battle, he would participate in the public funding system to finance his general election race if the Republican nominee followed suit. Hillary, of course, has declined public funding altogether. She knows she can raise much more money privately. (I digress, but God help us! She can’t remember what she thinks now!!)

I guess I never completely grasped that all nominees in a race would have to agree to use public funding and only public funding for it to be fair. And we taxpayers would have to check that box knowing that the money is all in one fund divided among the contestant. So, despite my feelings about Hillary, I might have to say I would fund a gallon of gas for her bus (as if).

Can I live with that? I think so. I already fund most of her and her husband's life anyway just through the ex-President program. But I digress again. Back to public funding. Isn’t it fair? Doesn’t it provide me with more choices and more people to choose from? Would it possibly result in a better selection of decent people, a better class of folks than the money hungry, greedy ones of late? Wouldn’t it decrease the corporate role in politics just a bit? Baby steps, after all.

People tend to be more concerned with health care, education, privacy, defense, and so on. The list is never-ending. We are distracted with the little battles, while they rob us blind – of our rights, our money, and our democracy. We need to  focus and make the point over and over that we can’t get anywhere on any other issue until we fix legalized bribery. No issue is as important as getting money out of politics. We can’t solve any issue fairly and logically as long as corporate allegiance is present.

Every time public campaign financing has been on a ballet it has won. The more states that try this, the more experience we have with it and the better we can make it work.

I could go on and on about facts I’ve learned during my recent quest for public funding knowledge, but I’ll just provide links here. I can’t put it any better, that’s for sure.

http://www.citizen.org/congress/campaign/issues/pub_fin/articles.cfm?ID=10642

http://www.opensecrets.org/2000elect/other/presfund/CRS_s95-824.htm

http://www.democracy21.org/index.asp?Type=B_PR&SEC=%7BFD714569-5FB3-45D6-82D4-A3098EE124BA%7D&DE=%7B36F899B5-FEA3-4B94-ADC7-C99FB2D0AC82%7D

http://www.capitaleye.org/inside.asp?ID=249

http://www.just6dollars.org/

http://www.publicampaign.org/

Public campaign financing is not a Bush issue. It’s not a presidential issue. It’s not a party issue. And it’s not a new issue. But it has become a survival of this country issue. And it is our duty to understand it.

John Adams said long ago, “Liberty cannot be preserved without a general knowledge among the people.” You can’t have a democracy without the knowledge of the people. Won’t work. Ever.

I am a worried woman.

We should want our government to serve us, our elected officials to be indebted to us. Ahhh, utopia. Public funding is a step in the right direction. We should also register as Independents at all costs. Everyone, even the die-hard party folks should do this. Candidates should feel like they have to work for our votes, not just take them for granted.

Now, I’ll just make sure I check the little 1040 box from now on. And vote. There is that. Isn’t there?

Finds

CNN had a link to SixNewThings, www.sixnewthings.com, on its website today. Every month, the SixNewThings site highlights six new things in 70 cities and regions around North America.

I stumbled onto Loose Change, www.loosechange911.com, and, while I'm not sure what I think about it yet, I sure am grateful that people have independent thoughts like this and that we live in a country where we can question the actions of our government. God knows those folks need questioning. And have, long before George W. came to be in power.

Good blogs are hard to find, but Hope Clark of FundsForWriters, www.fundsforwriters.com, mentioned that one of her favorites is JA Konrath’s blog at http://jakonrath.blogspot.com/. He’s hilarious. Check out the captions in his picture galleries. He’s also helpful. I’m such a “late adopter”, I didn’t even know about StatCounter, www.statcounter.com, for which I just signed up to track another site (to come).

And for fun or otherwise, I've begun checking in at Creative Numerology, http://www.numerology.freesoul.com/, to see what my week and month are going to be like. It's usually on target, too.

Just one stamp

When did a trip to the post office become just like a visit to the used car lot?

“I want to mail this paper from here to there. I want it to arrive in a reasonable amount of time.”

After the hand-off, Screen 1 popped up with option after mailing option - the most expensive at the top, of course.

Then the auctioneer started (a new skill of the postal employee).

“We can get it there overnight for $10 or 2 day priority for $8 with free confirmation or 3 days and 2 nights in 12 years for $100 if there’s a full moon and a good tail wind or…”

A dumbfounded, “Just regular mail, please.”

She didn't like it, but clicked to Screen 2. “We have 5 days priority with confirmation for $5 or 5 days non-priority for $4 or 6 days in hell for….”

“Regular mail, please.”

She hesitated long enough for a glare and then loudly hit the keys to get to Screen 5 of my options, obviously disgusted with my choice of the postal cheap seats.

“$2 for regular mail. Do you need insurance or confirmation or receipt of...”

“Regular mail, PLEASE.”

“Fine, I'm sure you know best. $2.07, please. Do you need stamps or boxes or any other mailing materials or a car wash or a blow dry or paper or plastic or fries…”

The crickets are still chirping in my head. I hope my letter makes it from here to there in a reasonable amount of time.

Thanks a lot, Santa

Thanks a lot, Santa. I guess you were too busy to get my letter (previous post).

I woke this morning to Hillary’s announcement that she’s running. Shit, shit, shit. How is this happening? How is it that she and her husband are not hiding somewhere in shame? Collectively, we Americans are insane.

If Rosie O’Donnell is all over the news for loudly proclaiming on The View that Donald Trump is a poor “moral barometer”, how can we not spend some time and attention questioning the reasons that Hillary Freakin Clinton is even in a position to run? 

The fact is that Hillary Clinton has never said ANYTHING at all about ANYTHING, or done ANYTHING about ANYTHING. Her announcement says it all. From CNN: "After six years of George Bush, it is time to renew the promise of America," she said. "I grew up in a middle-class family in the middle of America, and we believed in that promise," the 59-year-old native of Chicago said. "I still do. I've spent my entire life trying to make good on it, whether it was fighting for women's basic rights or children's basic health care, protecting our social security or protecting our soldiers."

Is it me? What the hell is she even talking about?

But she can complete a thought to tout (and we seem to buy it - again, insanity) the success of her completely political marriage to a guy who has the self-control and respect and morals of a 2-year-old. These are the folks that are supposed to be serving us. And these are our choices. We should be outraged. We should all be embarrassed that this is someone we continue to allow in positions to represent us.

God bless America. And God bless money.

I’ll give them this: they are smart. They probably had several meetings to discuss how to change the Clinton chapter in the history books (although we seem to think Mr. Clinton hung the moon already – again with the insanity). But now, they’ll go down (ha) in history as the husband and wife presidential tag team. Where’s my vomit pail?

The next god-knows-how-many years having to look at her and listen to that voice are now ruined. Not to mention that she just ruined the AFC Championship Playoff weekend.

There is a coming soon message at www.anybodybuthillary.com. I may finally get involved in politics. At this point, anybody but her. If she wins, I give up on America. Seriously. Final straw.

 

**Although what really should have been my final straw was the day after Bush announced his "surge" plan in Iraq and the top story on all the Internet news sites was about David Spice-Boy Beckham going to LA. It's my fault - - expectations are too high.

A quest for a cause

I have come to the conclusion that I have too much time to concentrate on myself and my life and my stuff and my, my, my, me, me, me. My son barely needs me, I don’t have a demanding job, and I have a slightly less than bustling (ha) social life. I know the spiritual solution is to think outside myself and concentrate on what I can or could do for others. I have never really wanted to volunteer for my own gratification; it’s really just a feeling of wanting to be a participant and contributor in the world. To serve a purpose, to help, but, most importantly, just to be kind, which I know is the key to a happier world and a happier God. And, I admit, that does make a happier me.

However, this has resulted in quite the conundrum because my experiences with trying to contribute, in just the most recent years, have not been so good. Funny, maybe, looking back, but not good.

I’m a Big Sister here in Indianapolis. At the initial getting-to-know-you meeting with my first “Little”, she told me that her older sister’s “Big” bought her all kinds of stuff and asked me to take her to Wal-Mart so she could pick some things out for me to buy for her. And I did! I stuck with it for two more weeks, until her mother asked me to buy four tickets to a Lil Bow Wow concert for my “Little”, two of her cousins, and myself. When I questioned the expense, she said, and I quote, “Well, that’s what Big Sisters are for, isn’t it?”

My second “Little” was a pretty good experience until I started being asked to drive her to school each morning and to baby-sit while her Aunt went on vacations and to listen to and get involved in family dramas. The babysitting was the last straw. This 15-year-old actually wrote on my furniture and embarrassed me in public on several occasions. She seemed to love to run through grocery stores and Targets like a 5-year-old. Her Aunt called one night and abruptly interrupted the poor kid’s animated telling of something good that had happened at school. This had obviously hurt her feelings and she said only a few words the rest of their conversation. So, then, it was my turn. No hello, no how are things, no small talk, just an accusatory “She sounds homesick. Why would she be homesick?" I wanted to say, “Because you interrupted her story and didn’t listen to her? Because she’s not at home? Because you’re on a vacation?” But I didn’t.

I signed up to be a holiday volunteer with the Salvation Army here in Indianapolis. One of the activities my first holiday year was to deliver packages to shut-ins. I thought this would be a great activity for my son and myself. And how nice to send these people something nice for the holidays. We looked in one of the bags and found a pamphlet about the Salvation Army, a banana, an apple, and a stuffed animal. What the he…

For three years with the Salvation Army, I worked the holiday toy store application process. We took information from folks to qualify them for entrance to the store. The major qualification was proof of income. They had to have jobs (we directed them to other agencies that could be more beneficial if they had no jobs). Some didn’t, some lied, some probably made more money than I did. But I’d accept everybody I could. My last day doing this was the day another volunteer (who happens to be the lead elf in the city - she’s involved in 99.9% of the Salvation Army activities in town) yelled at me.

A woman came in with five children, three of which were babies. She barely spoke English and she had no proof of income or job. Another adult with her tried to explain that her husband worked for himself. I would’ve said okay and completed her application but Ol’ Lead Elf heard her and insisted that she have some sort of proof. I told her to have her husband sign something explaining the situation and come back. They lived just down the road and it was 11:50AM. Ol’ Lead Elf told her, “We close at 12. If you’re not back, we can’t help you.” I said, “Don’t worry. I’ll wait for you. Just try to come back as soon as you can”, to which Ol’ Lead Elf screamed at me in reply, “NO!! THE RULES ARE THAT WE CLOSE AT 12PM!!!” She started packing up our supplies and actually yanked a pencil from my dumbstricken hand.

To make a long story short, I got permission from the Captain to stay, I told the lady to go on and that I would wait, and I gave the Ol’ Lead Elf my best and most evil “you had better back off” look. Happy Friggen Holidays!! Those “Christian” volunteers are work!!

I did this again the next year with the stipulation that I be nowhere near her, but heard nothing but horror stories about people stealing from the toy store, the coat store, the kettles, etc. This year, I didn’t participate at all. I did send them some money, though, because I still do believe in the organization.

In 2005, I went through training with Indy Reads, an adult literacy program. The volunteers go through a month of training and are assigned a person who has asked for help to learn to read. After my training, I was assigned a mentally challenged, thirty-year-old girl who wanted to color every time we met. Fine, but not exactly the contribution I had hoped to make. This lasted a few months before the mother switched days on me and got perturbed when I had a commitment that didn’t allow me to make the change she needed. I called the Volunteer Coordinator to see if I could get a new customer, but he told me that they didn't have any right then. He'd put me on the list to contact, though. I suppose I'm still waiting?

Next, I wanted to work with the Library Express here in town. They deliver library books to people who are homebound. A great cause! But I tried for two months and never got anyone to return a call or email. I continue to try periodically.

I can’t count the things I’ve shown up for and been sent home from because they had too many volunteers. One time, I was a tour guide through houses that had been renovated for a community revitalization project downtown. We had more guides than tourists. It was a little embarrassing.

My son and I packed military gift packages on several occasions. On one occasion, we organized three rooms of a warehouse dedicated to particular items in an effort to make it easier for the packers who would come behind us. We were in charge of organizing the Ziploc baggie rooms (yes, three rooms of baggies) (soldiers need baggies to keep their things dry and protected) into small, medium, and large bags. Not the contribution I was hoping as an example of charity for my son, but it had to be done. After we finished, we were told that they had received too many and would probably end up trying to donate them to shelters in town, and if they didn’t need them, they’d probably have to be thrown away. A Scooby-Doo huh?

This year, I signed up to donate three care packages to soldiers in Iraq at www.anysoldier.com and was told by two of the soldiers that their units had more than they could ever use and not to bother. The third one just wanted a picture of me.

So, that was it. I give up. Well, almost.

I’m thinking the elderly might like me. I like them. I think they might be forgotten and need some things. People don’t want to visit their own elderly relatives in nursing homes, much less strangers. So, I’m going to start a phone campaign and call places from a Seniors Magazine I picked up at the grocery store yesterday. And I’ll be optimistic until I hear otherwise. Wish me luck!

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

I am a 43-year-old girl in Indianapolis. I have been very good this year. Well, except for one or two outbursts on the highway, but that’s not important.

I hope you and Mrs. Claus are fine and everyone at the North Pole is helping you get ready for your trip Sunday night.

There is only one thing I want for Christmas this year, Santa. Please, please, please don’t let Hillary Clinton run for President. I don’t think I can stand listening to her talk and talk and talk and continue to say nothing for the next two years. Haven’t we all had enough, Santa? Please make her go away. I just want to scream in her stupid, stupid face. I know that's not nice, but I can't help it. She's bad, Santa, just bad. Maybe you have a job at the North Pole she could do. Clean the elves' bathrooms or something? She’s not very good at individual thought, so anything mindless would be perfect. She'll pretend to demand health care and pesky things like that, but she'll never follow through, so don't worry about anything she says really even mattering. And she loves villages, so that’s a plus, too, Santa!

And, Santa, I know you’re busy and it is a lot to ask, so if you can’t do this, I’ll understand. But if she does run and win, can you please find me a hut in Tahiti to move to? I won’t live through it, I swear, Santa. Please, I beg of you.

Thank you, Santa. I love you. Do the right thing.

Your friend,

Karen

Annual Gratitude Exercise: 2006

I’ve been writing in a gratitude journal for six years now. I don’t know why, but I never wholeheartedly recognized, much less acknowledged, God moments in my life until a disastrous move to Memphis, Tennessee, in 1999.

I had two goals that year: get the heck out of the Atlanta area (nice place to grow up in the 70’s, but not a place I want to live now) and finish a degree. Memphis provided the means to accomplish both.

But things did not go well initially. Plans quickly fell apart and only God put them back together again. He led me through each stumbling block, and I left Memphis with my degree in 2002 and have only been a sporadic visitor to Atlanta since.

I would never want to negate the experience because so many good things came from it. While in Memphis, I worked for a crooked charity full of characters no one could invent, which resulted in perfect fodder for a story I should complete next year. And, when all was said and done, I think I turned a profit on my house there. The house also indirectly helped to realize my goal of becoming debt free this year. I met three extraordinary people who I hope will be in my life forever. And, most importantly, I became closer to my God, which resulted in the beginnings of genuine gratitude that I know will continue for a lifetime.

I write five things for which I am grateful every day, then write a summary each month, and then save my yearly collections in a special place so I can go back and have a little reminiscent visit with God from time to time. I’ve decided to start doing yearly summaries here, because it seems to be a good fit.

I can’t begin to record every personal blessing of 2006, because this has been a special year for our little family. But here is my 2006 tribute, specific to my little speck of a corner in this world, to the Universe:

  • Had freelance gigs to survive multiple mortgage payments
  • Sold a house in Mississippi
  • Received a phone call about a new job two days before I learned the current job was ending
  • Found and moved into a great house in Indy in the school district
  • Bought a car for my son and so far, have been able to afford the insurance!
  • Have a pretty good draft of the first half of a novel
  • Have a pretty good start on three other writing pieces I’ve wanted to do for a few years
  • Applied for a writing grant for a project I’ve wanted to do for a long time
  • Finished NaNoWriMo with 22,000 words (not quite half of the 50,000 goal, but that’s okay)
  • Got closer to true friends and got rid of a drain or two
  • Recognize that my son is still making great grades, is involved in several activities at school, is driving responsibly, calls when he’s late or has a change in plans and is healthy and well-adjusted
  • Had a dental health scare that turned out to be minimal
  • Bought some new furniture
  • Became debt free
  • Saw friends get married and some stay married :)
  • Saw one friend get closer to her purpose and passion in life
  • Saw another friend come into a new freedom she's really never known!
  • Saw other friends remain healthy and employed
  • Was able to donate some things and some money
  • Crossed a couple things off my Life List
  • Discovered the cannoli at Nothing But Noodles (and I've never been a big cannoli fan)
  • Acknowledge that I’m safe, content, healthy, warm, clothed, fed, alive, spiritual, wiser with age, calm and at peace, and grateful to be grateful
  • And I didn’t gain one pound. I didn’t lose any, but I didn’t gain any. Always a check for the gratitude column.

Life Lists

I love the Ellen Degeneres show. This year, she has added a new theme. People are supposed to develop "life lists" of things they'd love to do in their lifetimes. I've fallen for it and here's mine. Or at least this is the one I have today. It may change tomorrow.

Karen’s Life List

1. See Tom Jones with my son (he loves him too) before he won’t want to go anywhere with me (saw Tom, but missed the window on the son going)
2. Move to Maine or New Hampshire and live in a little cottage for the rest of my days, after getting my son’s college paid
3. Finish one of my books/ideas and try to see if it’s worthy of being published
4. Put my son through college in one year (not quite a year, but I done good)
5. Have enough money to spend a year recording stories of people in a nursing home, keeping them company and publishing their stories
6. Go on a missionary trip
7. Take a trip on the Oslo-Bergen railway
8. Visit Prague
9. Spend a month writing in Florence, Italy
10. Forgive people/stop judging people so quickly
11. Finish blanket I started for my son when he was a baby
12. Sell my house in Mississippi
13. Make a new friend
14. Fall in love
15. Write a short little book of gratitude for the people I have known
16. Stop watching so much television (getting there)
17. Stop being scared of people and life
18. See Vancouver
19. See Alaska
20. Find a church or philosophy that suits me
21. Get a Master’s in English so I can teach (maybe)
22. Drive the Pacific Coast Highway
23. Have an article published in a magazine
24. Invest in a silent retreat in the winter
25. Learn Italian
26. Take an algebra class because I loved it in school
27. Raise some money for a good cause where 100% of the funds go to the cause
28. Get involved in campaign funding reform (www.just6dollars.org)
29. Do or say something kind every day
30. Learn about a different religion or two
31. Spend Christmas in Lake Louise or Quebec City
32. Buy a car that doesn’t use traditional gasoline
33. Help an elderly neighbor rake leaves or do a chore
34. Fly in a small plane over New England in the fall or Hawaii or both
35. Work in a bookstore or a café
36. Try a fancy recipe with a friend
37. Dine alone in public and be comfortable doing it
38. Dress up and have a romantic, fancy, leisurely, candlelit dinner with someone I love someday
39. Go back to Chicago and stay at the Palmer House or NYC and stay at The Plaza
40. Take a bubble bath
41. Lose some weight to feel a bit more healthy (work in progress, but healthy yay)
42. Buy new living room furniture
43. Changed to: Library Express volunteer sign-up and use for interviewing, collecting too
44. Go to a play by myself
45. Own and use a treadmill/elliptical
46. Smile at strangers more (ongoing)
47. Work on a screenplay or get to watch the writing process of turning a novel into a movie or play
48. Figure out what to do with myself since my 16-year-old son is all of a sudden never home
49. Help a single mom who is helping herself
50. Learn how to take great pictures

There is a Happy Ending

As I sit here at my new farmhouse-fashioned office desk by an open window, I can hear the little boy across the street screaming at the top of his lungs, “TREATS FOR CHARITY! 25 CENTS EACH!” And I just realized that I never finished my house-hunting saga with the happy ending that came to be.

After almost four years in the apartment, we have moved into our house now. I suppose, for most, it’s a relatively small thing that normally would be taken for granted, but I will never forget the synchronicity of the experience and the people God put in place who made it all happen.

My son came home from Japan on June 30th. I told him about the fiasco with the crazy lady, so we checked the Sunday newspaper for more rental ads. We drove by a few that listed addresses and found one that he and I both really liked. It took five days of phone tag with the owners to finally connect, but once we did, it felt guided by a higher power. We got along perfectly and learned that we had a lot in common. There was quite a bit of competition for the house, though, because it’s in an extremely desirable area of Indianapolis and was really reasonably priced. I was nervous all weekend wondering who they'd choose. A house like this is so rare and I knew it. Plus, the thought of more crazies and more days and nights with pool-boy were making me have odd thoughts involving hexes and voodoo dolls and such.

Needless to say, the call came and everything went perfectly. I turned in the required 30-day notice to the apartments, paid all the necessary fees and deposits, scheduled movers, and lost my job. BUT before my agency even notified me that this contract was ending, I had received a call about, interviewed for, and accepted a new opportunity two days before that would start at the end of the month. See? Synchronicity? Higher power!

My son plays his electric guitar at night. He turns up his stereo when he’s in the shower. He has friends over. He washes his truck in the driveway. He likes to get the mail and take the trash to the street. He likes to do stuff in the garage. And the dog. The dog’s never been happier. The house has a long hall perfect for throwing the squeaky ball. She sits outside in the yard for hours and falls asleep in the sun.

I read the newspaper every Sunday morning in my rocker on the screened-in porch. I sleep better and dream more than I ever remember. I decorated the door for Halloween for the first time in five years. I take the trash out in my pajamas. I only walk the dog if I want to.

I can hear the bells ring from the Indiana School for the Blind from my living room. I hear children playing in their yards. I hear lawnmowers. I hear dogs barking sometimes. I hear a macaw every once in a while who screams like it’s being tortured, but it’s always followed up with a distant “shut up!” that silences it and never fails to cracks me up. I hear the wind in the trees and I hear nothing.

I see full, green trees and waving green grass. I see walkers and bike riders and skaters. I wave or they wave and I smile to myself each time. It’s a neighborhood and we're home…….for now.

The problem with Honda Odysseys

DETROIT (Reuters) - Honda Motor Co. Ltd. is recalling 985,154 Odyssey minivans in the United States to fix a long suspected problem of brain-stealing, federal safety regulators said on Wednesday.

The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration said the problem was brought to their attention by a plethora of people around the country noticing common behavior among, well, the truly stupid. They were all Honda Odyssey owners.

"We've received thousands of letters of legitimate concern and felt a responsibility to investigate,” said a spokesperson for the NHTSA. The problem has apparently been affecting Honda Odyssey minivan owners from the vehicle's inception. It seems that the remote controls in the steering wheels have intelligence-stealing microchips, that, when touched, emit transmissions that kill any matter in the brain responsible for sound judgement and rationality.

Honda added that they had already dedicated a team of people to figuring out a way to notify these idiots about the trouble with their vans. “We want to help them as fast as we can, but making them understand is our first hurdle,” Honda Motors told us earlier today.

The Honda recall is expected to begin immediately, but the process could be prolonged because of the general stupidity amongst the owners. "We can waste no time, knowing Odyssey minivan drivers are on the roads", NHTSA said.

Honda added, "We'll get to everyone eventually, it may just take us a little longer than usual. The poor things."

Humble Book Review

I read Dan Miller’s 48 Days to the Work You Love this weekend. I expected a schedule, a calendar and step-by-step instructions as the title implies, but I didn’t find that. I have an e-mail in to find out where I went wrong as a reader, but haven’t received a reply yet.

I subscribe to Dan’s e-newsletter and love his site. He’s very inspirational and positive - much like Dave Ramsey is about money management. So, I did find the book to be the same. It was full of motivating quotes and statistics, uplifting anecdotes and self-help questions. But there was no schedule to follow. He explained why he picked 48 days (biblical reference, plus 8 extra days), but had no indication of what to do when.

I hope to amend this post when I hear from him or his “people”. I think there is a workbook that accompanies the book. Maybe that has the schedule, but, for now, I’m not sure I’d spend the money without knowing.

 

**UPDATE: Sure enough, there's a workbook that you can purchase to accompany the book that contains a detailed plan for the reader. I should've known this. :)

The Beginning

I will start at the beginning. Lucky for you! When we moved to Indianapolis in 2002, I signed a one-year lease on an apartment in the school district recommended to us. The idea was to find a house to rent by the end of that first lease. While I was delighted with my son’s school district, to this day, I have not found a house in which I’d let my dog live. The township is inside the city limits and consists of 1960’s ranch-style homes, one newly developed middle-class subdivision full of homeowners, million dollar homes around the governor’s mansion, and the ghetto.

Being a single mother without the benefit (and, in my eyes, aggravation - but that’s another thread entirely) of dual incomes in one household, I am limited to the 1960’s ranch homes and the ghetto. There are usually several 1960’s ranch homes available for rent at any given time, but if you want things like indoor plumbing, you pay a hefty price. Seriously, it’s actually $300 to $500 more money for more than one bathroom. Or for a bathroom post hippie-era. A 3-bedroom, 1-bath, never remodeled, never re-carpeted home can rent for $1500 per month easily.

Why don’t I just buy a house, then, you ask? After all, the tax savings alone…

To which I reply that I already have a house. I moved here in 10 days after living in my home for only three years, so instead of losing money I didn’t have, I put it up for rent. And, I don’t plan on staying in Indianapolis for too much longer, depending on my son’s college choice. My house is also currently up for sale, so I am now paying its mortgage each month as well.

So, I want to rent. I want to call a landlord to come replace a light bulb. I know I’m in the minority, but I sincerely don’t want to be a homeowner again for a while and not in Indianapolis.

Every time my apartment lease came to an end, we would diligently look for a rental house in the school district, but never had any luck. The houses I could (or wanted to) afford were embarrassing. I couldn’t imagine sitting on a toilet in one of these places. They never failed to disappoint, and most of the time, disgust me.

Therefore, I’ve renewed my lease and renewed and renewed and renewed. We can move anywhere (out of the school district) after the first semester of my son’s junior year in school (due to senior rights and not forcing a child out of the school mid-year), which occurs in December 2006. This opens doors to us – suburb doors and long-drive-to-school doors - but affordable and livable doors.

Kink in the plan, though: On June 10th, 2006, we arrived back at home after a 10-day trip to Mississippi to ready my house for sale and were welcomed by new neighbors downstairs. Boy neighbors. Two or three or four of them. At least. Noisy, pool-partying, up-all-night, smoking, apparently no-job-having boys. In the first week, their smoke detector went off three times. I can hear it among every other noise they make. (Two families of three, each with newborn babies, lived downstairs prior and I never heard one noise.) I now sleep with a fan on its highest level, a radio, and, as of this past weekend, am up to 3 Benadryl a night (apparently developing a tolerance).

Three days after our return, I discussed the situation with the property manager and discovered that I can move any time with no early termination of lease penalty since I’ve been there so long. Great news, but it is the summer before my son’s junior year, technically limiting our search to houses in his school district again. But given the choice between unreasonable rent and boy noise, I’m opting for the extra rent.

Now, you have the background. Next, a tour through the entertaining freaks and misfits met, thus far (because we still haven’t found a house), along the journey.

 

First Misfit Encounter

I spent a week listening to the boy noises downstairs, because my son was leaving for a long-anticipated trip to Japan, and I was preoccupied with sending him off. But the following Monday, I vowed to start making calls, which I did. I remember calling three or four numbers from the newspaper and signs I had seen driving to and from work, hearing the rent amount and the number of bedrooms and bathrooms and feeling discouraged. I dialed one more, sure that it wouldn’t be a good fit either. A lady answered the phone and we talked for a minute or two about her 3-bedroom, 2-bathroom, fenced yard, $995 per month house in the school district, when I stopped her to ask about pets.

“Oh, I have never accepted pets before, but what kind do you have?”

I explained about Sabrina. The lady didn’t seem deterred, gave me the address to drive by and take a look. I did and called to meet her at the house the next night to see the inside.

It was perfect (compared to what I had seen in the past and what I knew was available). It had big closets, an updated kitchen, big rooms, it suited us fine. I knew I wanted the house! I filled out the application that night and we arranged for me to drop it off in the house’s mailbox the next day so she could pick it up.

Then, the nightmare began. I must say that I already didn’t like this woman. She was a paranoid (perfectly suited for being a landlord!), home-schooling (I should’ve run like I normally try to do from these people), stay-at-home, 47-year-old mother of two small children who had opinions about everything, including me, my son, my dog, my life, and, actually, every word out of my mouth. But I thought to myself that she would go away! After all, she was only temporary during the pre-move-in process. Ha.

When I called the next morning to let her know that I had completed the paperwork and would drop it in the mailbox on my way home from work, she said, “Well, I’m going to be in your area running errands this evening, so why don’t I just drop by your apartment?” I panicked. Nobody comes to the apartment. It’s just not a place I like to have company. “What’s wrong? Why is this a problem for you?” (ACK!) “No, it’s not a problem at all, I’ll call you on my way home from a 4pm meeting at a client’s office.”

Without knowing the details about the woman, a friend assured me that she probably just wanted to check for dog odors, which was completely understandable. I was convinced, after the minimal conversations with the woman that she really wanted to see how I lived! Still thinking that I should go overboard to get this house, I went home and cleaned like a mad woman.

And she never came over. We met at a bank half-way between our houses because she was too tired after her long day to run any errands. At her request, I brought my freshly bathed dog, so she could determine her acceptability.

And so, she interviewed the dog. She didn’t like the length of her nails and wasn’t reassured by the looks of her propensity to shed. “You really should cut her nails more often,” were the exact words, I believe. (She’ll go away soon, she’ll go away soon.)

She called the next day with several words of wisdom about my application. It seemed that the events of my life weren’t quite up to her expectations. “Why did you work there less than a year?” (I’m a contractor, you loon. I’ve told you that repeatedly.)  “You really should pay this bill that your ex-husband owed, so it won’t be on your credit.” (One more “should” and I’m coming over there.)

The next day, she called because she needed proof from my apartment that I could early terminate the lease with no penalty. She had received a fax back from them verifying residency that showed that my lease didn’t expire until December. (We have discussed this, you whack job.) I agreed to drop off a copy of the lease clause in the house’s mailbox that afternoon and call her to tell her it was there for her to pick up.

I should’ve recognized clue #999 when for the second time, I found her in the driveway of the house. (The current tenants had not moved out yet!) I handed her the paper, to which she said, “This is just not normal. Nobody does this. We certainly wouldn’t do this.” And added that she needed a recent pay stub for proof of income. “Do you have a cell phone?” (You freak.) “Yes, I do. Why?” “Well, you could’ve called me and I would’ve brought it to you rather than my having to drive back home to get it and bring it back here.” “Oh, well, then, if that’s a problem, you can fax it to me tomorrow. I’ll be in my home office all day doing paperwork anyway. I had just hoped to make a decision on the house today, so I wouldn’t pay for another weekend ad.” (And that’s my fault?)

The next day at Kinko’s, I copied the check stub because it was yellow and appeared dark to me, even after lightening it on the machine. I called her to tell her I was faxing (as she instructed me to do), but told her I’d stay on the line with her in case it was still too dark to read. “Well, there is a lighten button on any copier. You need to push that button until it is light enough to read.” (If I lighten you, will you disappear?)

After all that, she called Sunday night to offer me the Taj Maha…I mean, house. My happiness wasn’t what I thought it would be. I asked for a copy of the lease I would need to sign so I could have that before turning in my 30-day notice to the apartments. “Well, I have never done that before. I planned to meet you Tuesday night, because I am busy all day Monday, to sign everything. You shouldn’t give notice until the end of the month anyway.” (More should’s.) She argued with me about giving a 30-day notice to my apartment complex. She was sure that they wouldn’t accept any day other than the beginning or end of a month. I was sure that any day would suffice. If I gave notice on the 15th of a month, I would vacate on the 15th of the following month and pay only for that time period. (After discussing this with her real-estate-lawyer husband, she called me back to concede.)

But more importantly, she sent the lease via email and it confirmed every last suspicion I had. Not only was the tenant responsible for all appliance (including the garbage disposal) and plumbing repairs (using her plumber), and one of their definitions of default was not paying rent for 5 days at which time she could assume immediate possession and move the tenant’s possessions (while this isn’t pursuant with state law, the fact that she had put it in her lease was alarming), but there was a paragraph about “Owner Access” that screamed at me:

“Owner, Owner’s agents and Owner’s prospective lessees, purchasers or mortgagees shall be permitted to inspect and examine the Premises at all reasonable. The exercise of Owner’s reserved rights of access shall never be deemed to be a trespass or a constructive eviction of Tenant. Owner may conduct unannounced inspections of the Premises at any time and from time to time.”

I emailed back that I could not sign this lease. I also left her a voice mail specifying the reasons. She emailed an amended lease (note here that I did not ask her to). Nothing was changed except for a clause about frozen pipes only being the tenant’s responsibility if her plumber deemed that it was due to the heat being turned down in the house. (I didn’t understand it either.) She also volunteered to provide a reference for me (from whom I never heard).

Again, I emailed back that I could not sign, specifying the same reasons. I also said that, since the process had taken so long (which I saw as her delays), I would not be willing to move in as quickly, not wanting to pay a full month’s rent on the apartment now that we were 10 days into this process.

She emailed one final time with “a final amended lease”. It was a 4-page (when printed) rambling email about my failures in the application process.

“While I am willing to make clarifications and have spent a couple of hours doing so thus far, we do not negotiate Lease provisions with our residents.” (who asked ya, you mental case.)

“It would need to be understood up front that everything that ever arises (if anything does) is not open to several days of negotiation, and perhaps that IS understood, and I am merely getting an odd impression from the extensive nature of your inquiries up front.” (I know! How dare I question you!)

“The way it works is that we give you the use of our $150,000 (approx) home in a nice area for a period of time (Lease period, renewable at our mutual decision).  In return, you abide by our Lease provisions. Period! If this isn’t going to work for you, now is the time to tell me that.” (Done. Three days ago.)

“I will go ahead and further clarify and amend the Lease for the final time, and forward it to you.” (Uhhh, what about that “Period!” part?)

And upon opening the attached, supposedly amended lease, her final owner access clause stated:

“Owner, Owner’s agents and Owner’s prospective lessees, purchasers or mortgagees shall be permitted to inspect and examine the Premises at all reasonable times. The exercise of Owner’s reserved rights of access shall never be deemed to be a trespass or a constructive eviction of Tenant. Owner may conduct unannounced inspections of the Premises at any time and from time to time, should owner reasonably determine that unlawful activity or breaches of the Lease are being committed on the property.”

I wrote an insulting email to her, sent it to myself and cut my 10-day loss.

I ignored a voice mail from her previous tenant (the reference) that I received 5 days later. He sounded weirder than she was.

More Misfit Encounters

Second:

A property management company here in town listed a 3-bedroom, 2-bath house in the school district, renting for $1250 a month. We pulled into the driveway to turn around after seeing its pitifully run-down condition and were approached from the neighboring house on the left by what looked like a bum with a brown bag in his hand and, from the house on the right, a retarded man who, arms a’ flailing, barreled towards our car. Had it been two seconds later, his face would have been smooshed against my son’s window. He was laughing and waving as I sped away as fast as I could. The bum just stood there watching us and took another puff on his cigarette.

I, of course, gave up and went back to the apartment where at least all I had to worry about was the noise.

And the third:

I called a phone number from a yard sign. The man explained that he required $1600 a month for his 3-bedroom, 1-bath, 650-square-foot house. Then he asked, “Why in the world do you want to rent a house, anyway?” And for some idiotic reason, I went ahead with my 15-second superficial explanation. He continued, “I have a house up the street for sale for $179,000 that would suit you much better.” (he had known me for over a minute at this point, after all ) He gave me the address. I said I would drive by and call him back. (Duh)

And the fourth:

I contacted a property management company (not the bum/retard one) and asked if they had any properties matching my requirements. She said she didn’t at that time, but asked, “Why don’t you print our application from our website and send it in with the $50 application fee? That way we’ll have it on file, and you’ll be one step ahead of everyone else if we ever do have anything that meets your needs.” (It’s me, isn’t it?)