The Chaos Theory Hits Home

I knew Tuesday would be a wild day, because I had so many calls to follow up on from Friday.  Then Monday night my farrier phoned and said he wanted to trim the horses' hooves Tuesday morning.  I agreed, thinking I could squeeze it in, but my gut instinct kept telling me to call him back and switch to a different day.  But you know me...  I like to get everything done A.S.A.P. with the belief that sometime in the future my schedule will clear and I'll be able to do something fun.

Tuesday morning the wind for our next storm arrived early.  The gusts were pretty intense, rattling the aluminum roof and snapping the hay tarp around.  Little whirlwinds were swirling the dirt around my horses' legs and under their bellies as the farrier was working on them.  I stroked their faces to keep them calm.

Instinct told me to trim Gabbrielle first since she's usually the most difficult, being the youngest.  Usually, when a storm is moving in, the wind gusts get stronger and more violent as time progresses.  Just a few seconds into her trim, Gabbrielle raised her head up high and stared past me over my shoulder.  I turned to find my neighbor standing in the goat pen just a few feet behind me.  She normally feeds the goats at 8:30 AM, and this was an hour later.  She probably saw me opening my gate and moving my truck out of the way and knew I was having company, so she postponed feeding time until my company arrived, giving her the perfect cover for getting in close to eavesdrop.

She dawdled in that goat pen, dragging feed troughs around, picking up and dropping things, basically making as many sudden, loud noises as possible for a good 20 minutes, and I wanted to spin around and ask her how long it takes to feed some goats.  There were some things I wanted to talk with my farrier about, but only when my neighbor was out of earshot.  She suddenly started yelling at the goats, because they were eating the rabbits' feed.  She put so much energy into chasing them around and yelling at them that I wondered why she didn't just separate the goats and rabbits into different pens.

Gabbrielle was all excited, neck and tail arched, while she watched the commotion in the goat pen.  My farrier was getting nervous, because he could feel my horse's tenseness.  You never want to be under the belly of a thousand-pound animal when it is excited.  He quickly finished with Gabbrielle and told me to bring Bombay out for his trim.

Bombay was fairly relaxed, ignoring the wind and the woman running around screaming in the goat pen as best as he could.  By the time my farrier started on Bombay's back feet, Bombay went on full alert, head so high he could have konked it on the overhang.  I looked off in the direction he was looking and saw the my neighbor cut her horses loose.  I said, "Oh no!  My neighbor let her horses out, so now my horses are going to get all riled up."

My farrier stood up to look around and said, "She always seems to be doing something disruptive to spook and distract your horses, doesn't she?"

I said, "Yes, she is the stupidest woman in the world."  I turned around and saw her standing right behind me pretending to water some weeds.  I didn't even care that she heard that.  Anybody who eavesdrops as much as she does deserves whatever her ears can take in.

My farrier and I had been talking about the EHV-1 virus and I told him that I hate it when she lets her horses loose to co-mingle with mine over the fence.  The people who own the horses are still trailering and riding them out off the property.  I said I would have to relocate my horses into stalls and pens where my neighbor's horses can't touch them over the fence.  He said we do have one confirmed local case of the virus, so I should keep my horses in quarantine.

Bombay got so excited about the horses next door being out that he forgot he was having his pedicure and he started to run right past me to greet the horses at the fence.  I corrected him, backed him up and made him stand for the farrier, who now felt rushed because the woman next door was running around with a tree branch chasing the horses away from the goat and rabbit feed.  Apparently, she didn't know they got out, so she had to close the front gate before the horses escaped down the road.

Her horses were galloping in circles around her house and my horses were galloping in circles wherever they could.  When it was time to switch out Bombay with Lostine, Gabbrielle made a run for it and busted through the gate in order to run up to the fence to rub noses with the horses next door.  I tried herding her back into the round pen, but she wasn't cooperating.  I didn't want to take up too much of my farrier's time, so I held Lostine for him to trim and kept and eye on Gabbrielle to make sure she didn't get too close to the other horses.

Each time I thought my neighbor had put the horses in the back paddock, they'd come galloping around again with her chasing them and yelling.  She had been trying to plant a garden and the horses kept stampeding through her garden and trying to snatch up whatever was growing, which made my neighbor scream even louder and start whacking horses on their rumps with her tree branch.  Then Gabbrielle and Bombay responded by galloping around in excitement again.  Lostine was the only horse that was well behaved, so my instinct was correct to do the difficult horses first.  I should have known that I could count on my neighbor to screw up my farrier appointment in addition to the high winds. 

No sooner did my farrier leave and the neighbor who fixes dragster engines started up.  I videotaped how loud it was inside the house as well as outside the house, and while I was filming, another neighbor drove into my driveway to ask me who was making that horrific noise.  We couldn't even hear each other talking.  I had to put my ear close to her mouth and vice versa.  I film these types of incidents to show to the county and perhaps the police if the noise pollution gets to be a habit.  The county can take away the neighbors' business license if the noise from his business extends beyond his property line, and in this case it extends for miles beyond his property line.  He always shuts down before the police can respond to a complaint, though, which is why it's important to get it on tape.

Holiday for the Horses

My veterans of a very long winter finally got to enjoy some non-canned food today.

I know, Bombay's got twiggy hair with that tree popping out of the top of his head.  Just think of it as the king's crown, and consider that blob of Xterra a beauty mark.

The neighbor across the highway is paving his driveway.  We had one neighbor do it last summer, so now all the other neighbors have to follow suit.  There's a lot of loud banging and engine noises, but the horses are so happy to be out at pasture that they don't even notice all the noise pollution.  This neighborhood used to consist of all dirt roads and dirt or gravel driveways, but the city people moving here insist on paving everything over.  They paved paradise and put up a parking lot.

Oh well, I lost my battle to keep the neighborhood rural as soon as Wal-Mart bought the farm down the road.  They are already installing a sewage system.  Though my property looks beautiful in pictures, the noise level is horrendous between the increased traffic on the highway and all the construction projects of my neighbors.  I wonder if I can move out of here before Wal-Mart opens.  That would be a dream come true.

The Sky is Falling

Even the horses are asking me, "Will it ever end?"

This was during one of many hail storms yesterday.  Those canopy overhangs on the barn come in handy when the horses want to avoid getting pelted by foreign objects falling from the sky, but don't want to have to listen to the loudness of it hitting the aluminum roof from inside the stalls.

One of the goats next door climbed under two pieces of wood propped up like a tee-pee that was placed there for the rabbits to stay out of the sun and get away from the goats.  The lost rabbit either was found or decided to return to its friends.  So, two goats and two rabbits had to sit outside getting pelted by hail while the other goat appeared to be stuck under the wood bleating non-stop. 

Now that it's Monday the sun it out and I don't detect any wind.  Let's hope it stays this way for a while.  We'll still be below 65 degrees for a week or so, but at least we're out of the various forms of precipitation.

We Interrupt the Regularly Scheduled Program for...

...pictures of what my Memorial Day weekend is shaping up to be.

I'll bet all those tourists who come to Nevada for their vacations will start heading for the tropics next summer.

Our side dish of broccoli intended for dinner last night. Have you ever eaten Halibut and Mahi Mahi without your veggies?

Sunday Stills: Weeds and Grasses

See more Sunday Stills participants here.

Comments, Cleaning, Irony and Entertainment

COMMENTS:
I wanted to thank everyone for their comments.  I don't always respond to comments with comments and admit I am bad about answering questions, but I do smile at your kind words, laugh at your jokes, and appreciate all the words that people take the time to type into my blog.  I also appreciate the emails you send to cheer me up or show your support.  Thank you.  My blog friends are all so good, sweet, kind, and caring.  How did I get so lucky to find you?


CLEANING:
I spent some time today organizing my own paperwork, because I really appreciated being able to find everything I needed in my mother's house neatly organized into folders.  My mother took a proactive approach to the fact that someday she would pass away and I would have to take over where she left off.  I, on the other hand, have been tossing receipts, statements, and random paperwork into grocery bags for way too many years.  It's time I shred what I don't need, file what I do need into folders, and go paperless on everything else.

It occurred to me that if I passed away tomorrow, no one in my family would know what accounts are current.  We have paperwork for accounts that we closed back in the 1990's.  There's no reason to keep all that garbage around.  I suspect my paper shredder will break from all the shredding, because it usually does.  Then I spend hours pulling little clumps of shredded paper from the blades with tweezers.  I'm definitely keeping the tax paperwork on file for 7 years, though.


IRONY:
Life is so ironic.  I say that a lot, but every time I look at the items my mother left me, I just shake my head in disbelief.  First off, before she passed away, I was contemplating not wearing make-up anymore to save money.  Every time I had to buy more powder, foundation, blush or mascara, I felt guilty because it was so expensive.  Then, while going through my mother's things, I found enough make-up to last me the rest of my life.  She was a loyal customer of a certain store that often gave her bags filled with make-up samples each time she made a purchase, so she had tons of unopened make-up products.

Also, each morning I would put on jewelry and often found that I didn't have anything in my collection to match what I was wearing.  I remember in recent years I'd give my kids a list of colors I needed to be added to my fashion jewelry collection, and they'd buy me whatever they could find in those colors for Mother's Day, my birthday, and Christmas.  Every once in a while I'd lose an earring, and then need something to replace the pair in the same color.  I bought my daughter a beading set so that she could make earrings in the colors I needed, and she did a wonderful job.  Unfortunately, those loose hooks would work their way out of my earlobes when I sat on the back of a trotting horse, so I was losing the jewelry faster than she could make it.

Well, my mother had a fashion jewelry collection that rivals the immensity of her make-up collection.  I still haven't had the time to look at each item, but now I've got enough jewelry in every color of the rainbow to last me and the next six generations of girls in my family for our lifetimes.  Some of my mother's jewelry dates back to the 1940's and 50's.  It's really fun stuff, most of which I suspect she had forgotten about.  I found much of it buried in drawers and up high on shelves.

Another problem I've been having is finding a pair of reading glasses when I need them.  It seemed every time I had to read something, it resulted in a hunt around the house.  I had two pair of reading glasses, but wished I had a pair for each room of the house.  I especially needed one pair at my desk, one pair on my bedside table, and one pair for the kitchen.  I can't read the cooking instructions on boxes and cans without glasses.  Well, guess what?  I found enough pairs of reading glasses in my mother's house to allow me a pair for every room in my house.

Had I only asked, I'm sure she would have shared much of this stuff with me while she was living, but I didn't know she had it.


ENTERTAINMENT:
Here's a picture of Bombay's sarcoid finally starting to shrivel up under 8 coats of Xterra.

Also, I had an interesting experience with my neighbor this morning. I was shoveling manure along the fence line and did a double-take to see this rabbit lying stretched out beside the goats. One of the goats started getting agitated about something and began nipping at the rabbit, which in turn hopped away.

I looked up to see my neighbor slinking around a tree and realized that the goat knew it was feeding time and didn't want any competition for the food. I asked my neighbor if the goats eat the rabbit's food and she said they do. Then she told me that she lost the other rabbit, and the people who own the rabbits and goats are coming to pick up what's left of them soon.

I had noticed that something had been digging holes under my fence in various places.  I'm surprised Bombay didn't stomp on the little guy.  My neighbor then loitered by the goat pen for a really long time after feeding them and I wondered what she was doing.

It turned out she was trying to get up the nerve to go inside the goat pen. As soon as she opened the gate, the goat with the biggest horns charged her and butted her right in the crotch! I'm sure that must have hurt, but for once I got some entertainment watching what was going on in her yard instead of her and her husband watching me for their viewing pleasure.

As I was writing this post, I heard the sound of hammering banging through my bedroom wall.  I looked outside to see that my neighbor has her husband out there repairing the rabbit hutch that the goats destroyed.  I guess they are trying to cover up the evidence of their negligence before the animal boarders show up and see it.  Like I said, I don't know why anyone would let these people care for their animals or children.  But after getting head-butted in the crotch, I'm sure my neighbor won't be eager to take on boarding anymore goats soon.

I'm Surpised That Friday Wasn't the 13th

No, nothing terrible happened. It was just one of those days where the timing of everything -- and I mean EVERYTHING -- was seriously messed up. I woke up with the luxury of being able to make a balanced list of tasks I needed to do and tasks I wanted to do. After two straight months of not being able to do much of anything for myself, I really needed at least half a "me" day.

However, the phone rang first thing in the morning from someone who was informing me that she would be sending me a form through the email that I needed to print, fill out, scan, and email back to her. Of course, the form had to be in legalize language, so I had to read it four times to get the gist of what it was saying before actually filling it in. I need to research this Plain Language Act I've been hearing about, because now that I am serving as Trustee to my mother's estate, I am beyond frustrated with not being able to understand most of what I am signing, and at $250 to $300 an hour, I can't afford to consult one of my two lawyers every time someone hands me another form.

I recently screwed up a form, because it requested the "descendant's name".  I thought they meant my name, because I am a descendant or I descended from my mother, but it turned out that they meant they wanted my mother's name.  I figured that out once I reached the box where I needed to fill in the date of death.  I think between my mother and I, we've been labelled with at least a dozen new titles since her passing and I get confused as to which title belongs to which one of us.  I actually did have to meet with one of my lawyers to discuss which titles he held and which titles I held.

I have eight years of higher education and a decent I.Q., so if I'm struggling with understanding all these forms, just imagine how hard it must be for the average Joe. Also, I'm sick of having to wear a pair of reading glasses plus holding up a magnifying glass to be able to even see the small print. There has to be something illegal about the way in which legal forms are written, especially since by the time most people need to sign such forms they are old enough that half their eyesight is gone as is.

Anyway, after completing the form and emailing it back, I had to ask if I filled it in correctly. I wrote my intentions of what I meant to say on the form in the email. That email led to several other emails with requests for me to obtain more copies of death certificates, and for me to scan and email a bunch of documents that will be mailed to me over the next few weeks. Of course, the first few of those documents arrived today, and for me to scan each page will take hours, possibly days of my time because my scanner is very slow. I don't really care to drive into town and stand in line to fax the stuff for a fee either. I pay enough to Notary Publics every time I sign something that requires their signatures.

The other day I had to photocopy the Trust document, and there were so many pages, that it broke our copy machine. I thought we were going to have to go buy a new one, but my husband banged the old one around, unplugged it, and reset it, so it should work a little longer for us.

Anyway, once I did all I could do for that person for the day, I then had to provide a list of all my business assets to the County Assessor's Office. I tried emailing it, but the message failed, so I had to make copies and mail the forms the old fashioned way. The whole time I was griping about how the only work I've done for my photography business in the past year has been to fill in government forms for tax purposes. When you consider that I still haven't made my first dollar, owning a small business is a lot of work with very little profit. In my case, the profit is zilch.

It got to be about 1:00 PM and I realized I was shaking all over due to low blood sugar. I had only had a cup of coffee at 6:30 AM and had to get something to eat. I made a sandwich, but of course, I was not able to eat it in one sitting because the dryer buzzed because the laundry was ready to be hung, and the dogs kept pestering me to let them in and out, and the phone kept ringing, etc.

I was trying to put away laundry containing a lot of nylon socks and whatnot, and somehow managed to break three fingernails in the process, and the jagged nails ripped the nylon. I had to keep running back and forth between my manicure kit and the laundry. It literally took me seven hours to get all the loads of laundry washed, dried, and put away because of all the interruptions.

My son came home from school and I helped him solve his latest problems. By then I was shaking all over again from not having enough food in my system, so I poured myself a bowl of cereal in hopes that I could eat it before the next interruption.

But no, I couldn't. The phone rang. My son came running out of the bathroom to ask why I wasn't answering it. I said with my mouth full of cereal, "Because I'm sick of people calling every time I try to eat something!"

He let the answering machine pick up. It was the real estate agent giving me an update. I couldn't hear what he was saying, so I played the message back when I was done eating. Of course, while I was listening to the message, my mobile phone started ringing. I screamed an expletive. There was no way I could run across the house to the room that the mobile phone was in and be able to get it out of its pouch and push the right combination of buttons to answer before the voice mail picked up.

I had to listen to the answering machine message a second time, because the interruption of the other phone made me miss the end of the message. Then I ran to my mobile phone and listened to the voice mail. It was from one of my attorneys wanting to know about the status of a bill. That was the last straw. I decided it was late on a Friday afternoon before a three-day weekend and I didn't need all this stress. I decided that anyone else who called could just leave a message and wait for me to get back to them next week.

I sat down to do some deep breathing exercises and the phone rang again. This time it was this dang carpet cleaning service that has been illegally calling me twice a week -- something they are not supposed to do, because I am on the National No Call List and I have never done business with them before. I took down their phone number so that I can report them to Consumer Affairs and call them back and give them hell for interrupting me all the time. I wish I had the time to call them twice a day with my complaints just to let them get a taste of their own medicine. Hopefully, they would learn that telemarketing cold calls are not the best way to do business, but are the best way to piss people off. I'd just have to make sure they connect me with the owner of the business, so that I'm not harassing some poor innocent employee who has no control over the situation.

Despite telling myself I was done for the day (put a fork in me ; ), I then remembered that I had to pick up the mail.  Big mistake.  I instantly had another week's worth of legal documents to decipher and forms to fill out. 

Sadly, I have only been able to shovel manure every other day before the sun sets, because I've been so busy. Also, a friend phoned me as I was packing to leave on my last trip, and I didn't have the time to talk to her, so we agreed I would call her back when I returned. Well, I've been back for a week now and haven't had a moment to myself during respectable phone calling hours. If she suffered from insomnia like I do, I could call her in the middle of the night or in the wee hours of the morning. That's the best I can offer right now. That's when I do most of my blogging. Either then or while I eat my meals, assuming I get a meal.

Needless to say, nothing on my "want" list got done, none-the-less the majority of items I needed and planned to do. I know no one can call me about business over the holiday weekend, but still my favorite "me" activities will be limited by lousy weather and a gazillion Californians who are visiting neighbors and taking over the neighborhood. The only way holidays really work out for me is if I leave town and invade someone else's space since so many people choose to vacation where I live. Maybe I should do what my neighbor does and run a bed and breakfast, but out of my barn. The horses prefer to be out at night in the summer months anyway. I could charge some tourists $200 a night to sleep there, and if they ask about toilets, I can just tell them to learn from the horses.  Consider it a form of camping, but no bonfires allowed.

On a brighter note, my husband came home from work, took one look at me and knew I was completely worn out and frazzled. He said, "What can I do to help you?"

I smiled my devilish smile and jokingly said, "You can go to the market and buy everything they have available in chocolate. Chocolate cake, brownies, chocolate ice cream... whatever you can get your hands on."

I was kidding, but he went anyway and now I've got enough chocolate to keep me buzzing from a sugar high for the next couple of months.  Looks like I'll be needing a bigger saddle.  

My Hero

Last night I was lying on the couch with Scrappy at my feet when my Corgi Midge leaped up, coming down hard on my chest, digging her paws into my ribcage. This is a habit that hurts and I want to discourage her from doing it. I don't mind if she jumps into my lap, but jumping onto my chest is whole different thing.

So, I started doing fake crying to let her know that hurt. Scrappy came to attention and pounced on Midge, growling and taking nips at her. I had to put my hand in front of his mouth to prevent that, and he whimpered in frustration because I wouldn't let him protect me. Sometimes good watch dogs come in small packages.

I walked a bunch of dogs at the shelter yesterday, and found myself feeling impressed by a blue Queensland Heeler. This little gal was the first shelter dog who heeled next to me on our walk, and when I talked to her, she actually looked at me as if making an effort to acknowledge my existence and to try to understand what I was saying. She helped me investigate more ATV/horseback riding trails and if I stopped too long in one spot, she'd gently try to climb up the side of my leg into my arms. I wanted to take her home so bad, but I promised my husband I wouldn't bring home any more dogs.

My husband has been encouraging me to get back into photography and things that interest me, because it seems I've done nothing but work on settling my mother's estate for the past two months. First he sent me an advertisement for a photography contest, but I wasn't interested. It seemed like a lot of work with only a small chance of winning. Then he pointed out that there will be a tour of the barns in my area along the Emmigrant Trail at the end of June, which would help me with that barn calendar I was planning on putting together for 2012.

I decided I should look into that. Then he found that an intuitive medium and pet psychic will be doing a show at a casino in June, so we are talking about buying tickets. That would be right in line with the most recent novel I've been writing. I haven't been able to touch that novel since my mother passed away. Maybe this show might inspire me to pick it up again.

We are still in that dang pattern of having it rain or snow every Sunday, my best day to ride the horses. Earlier this week I was looking ahead to the 10-day forecast feeling excited because we were about to have the first dry Sunday in a long time. Then this morning I looked at the forecast again, and it is supposed to be pouring rain on Sunday. This is ridiculous. I think we need to change the calendar to get out of this rut. For now on, weekends off from work and church are on Wednesday and Thursday, the sunniest days of the week.

Four-Legged News

• The day I finally had time to ride, it rained and there were whirlwinds, so I didn't.
• Bombay is finishing off his second round of Xterra for the sarcoid on his face, and for the first time it doesn't seem to be helping.
• I cleaned and filled Lostine's water trough in her stall only to find it filled with bird poop and feathers the next day.  As I dumped the dirty water, I found a dead bird behind the trough.
• I've been fortunate enough to have a Mantracker marathon running on the Science channel all day and watch tidbits when I get a chance to sit down.  Everyone is getting caught.
• Bombay has been trying to attack the goats through the fence at feeding time.  Since the mares chase him away from the food, he needs someone smaller to pick on.
• The goats next door were only supposed to be around "a couple of weeks", but we're past that now.
• The goats somehow managed to shred the rabbit hutch, and I have no idea where the rabbits are.  Of course, my clueless neighbors haven't discovered the destruction yet.  They're not home and I don't have their mobile phone number.  I honestly don't know why anyone would let these people "take care" of their animals and babysit their kids.
• Yesterday I ran outside in the rain to throw some hay into the horses' stalls, and my nosy neighbor came outside and pretended to be pulling weeds in the rain next to my barn. Who does that?  I know it's easier to pull up weeds when the ground is wet, but usually you run a hose on a sunny day to pull weeds.  This lady's M.O. is to move in as close to me as possible, and then as soon as I look at her, she bends over, sticks her butt toward my face, and pretends to be doing something important to the ground.  That's her cover.  She tries to pretend like she's minding her own business and that she has a reason for being so close.  I suppose that's better than her husband, who walks up to the fence and doesn't take his eyes off me for as long as I'm outside, but it's equally irritating.
• I've been lunging the horses when I get a few minutes in order to get them into shape and refresh their ground training.  
• Gabbrielle's lameness is much better.
• I have yet to take the horses out to pasture.  I'm hoping that once my son is out of school, he can help.  If I lead just one horse to pasture, and then go back to the paddock to get another, all the horses panic and start galloping around tearing up the grass and creating a dust cloud that floats through the neighborhood, so it's better to lead all three at once to pasture if possible for the first few times after a long winter. 
• Oh yeah, it snowed in the mountains yesterday.
• Some neighbor has been having yet another series of truck deliveries all morning, and my house has been vibrating, so I'm going to the animal shelter to walk some dogs and hopefully enjoy some peace and quiet out on the trails.

Since You Seem to be Interested...

You may remember me mentioning that since most of us have responsibilities, we don't have the time to individually appraise and sell each material possession that a loved one leaves behind after his or her death.  I said that most of us have to hire an estate sales company to process all the stuff.  Well, I tried that, only to be told that my mother's belongings were not worth his time or any other estate sales rep's time.

SAY WHAT?  He explained further that his clients would just be disappointed because I really had nothing to offer other than used furniture, some crystal, silver, gold, sculptures, paintings, china, tools, and antiques, and the market was already flooded with such stuff.  People are bored with that.  They now go to estate sales to find fine art and rare collectables.  He was more interested in some old, rusted cola temperature gauge that my father had hanging in the garage than he was in the other stuff.  The world is weird.

So, I'm back to square one.  The house has been put on the market and I will have 30 days from when we sign a contract with a buyer to move everything out of my mother's house.  I can try a few more estate sales reps, but the guy I met with swore that no one would do business with me.  He made me feel like I had cooties, because my mother wasn't rich enough.  He said I may as well donate everything.  I nearly fainted.

I think of how long it took my husband and I to build up the furniture we have, and I'm sure there are plenty of people who would appreciate buying these barely used items at less cost than if they bought them new.  My mother literally has a huge sectional couch that has never been sat on.  It is in perfect condition.  She has hand-crafted art and collectibles from Africa, Russia, Ireland, Alaska, Hawaii, and from various Native American tribes, but the guy only viewed them as souvenirs.   I'm having a hard time believing that a lifetime of purchases can be worth nothing.

My mother studied art history in college and was an artist herself.  Many of the paintings on the walls were hers, and I thought it was interesting that the estate sales rep did a double-take and checked for a signature on her paintings.  Unfortunately, she didn't sign them, but I guess they were good enough that he thought someone famous might have painted them.

Sure, I'll donate some of the less personal stuff -- I already have donated some -- but I'm not going to donate all of it.  If I have to, I will put on the estate sale myself.  Supposedly, the value of silver has been at an all time high recently.  I found a collectable solid silver plate with gold etchings, looked it up on the Internet and saw it valued by the Franklin Mint at $1,440.  Then I saw the same plates being sold on eBay for $300.  I don't get it.  It's like a person pays through the nose to purchase something, and as soon as they touch it, it drops in value to a fraction of what they paid.  What's the point in even buying anything?

My real estate agent was telling me about a guy who will move everything out of a house for free, but he won't pay you for the stuff either.  He gets paid for doing the moving of all the furniture by the profit he makes selling the stuff at swap meets. 

I'm thinking I might take things in steps if I have enough time.  One thrift shop will take some of the larger antiques on consignment, but I have to pay for shipping to their store.  I'm selling other items to a relative, and he will pay for his own shipping.  I promised the neighbor who has been helping out that he can have some tools from the garage.  He said he'd take all of them if I let him.  An old high school friend saw some items he was willing to pay me for, and there were others I said he could have for free.  We don't have any room in our house to ship anything here, and we really don't want to have to pay for storage.  The trick will be figuring out how to find homes for all the leftovers in the shortest amount of time.

I wish I had the time to ship, store, photograph, catalog everything and sell it all over the Internet, but the reality is that I've never been able to sell a single item that way.  I put things up for sale on eBay and get no bids.  I put out classified ads in papers and get no calls.  I put on yard sales and end up giving everything away for free, because I realize that other people need the money more than I do.  I've always said it takes a special personality to be a salesperson.  I don't have what it takes.  So, until a closing date on the sale of the house is determined, I'll just have to keep the faith.

City Drivers on Mountain Roads

One other little tidbit about my trip... Driving the 400 miles was relatively uneventful until I got into the mountains with all these city drivers who were headed north for their Memorial Day vacations.  The speed limit was 55 MPH through a section of winding mountain roads with an occasional warning to slow on certain curves.  I kept getting stuck behind drivers who drove 30 MPH the whole way with 10 or more drivers stuck behind them anxiously awaiting their chance to pass in a passing lane.

The problem is that all the passing lanes are on straight of ways, and the city people who are afraid to drive those mountain curves at 55 MPH would see a straight road ahead of them and speed up to 80 MPH in the passing lane so that no one could pass.  Then they'd hit the end of the passing lane and a curve, and everyone would have to slam on their brakes and merge, only to be stuck behind the same driver going 30 MPH around each curve for 10 or 15 miles until the next passing lane.

This happened to me three times and I was so fed up with being boxed in with people going slow in front of me and people tailgating because they wanted to go faster behind me, that I considered just pulling off to the side of the road to shake them.  I need my space even when driving.  Instead, I decided to take the city driver by surprise and fly past him before he even had the chance to spot the next straight section of road.  Unfortunately, I had to get up to 80 MPH in the process, because as soon as the guy saw me cross over into the oncoming lane before the start of the passing lane, he gunned it.

We came swinging around a slight curve at the end of the passing lane and who should we run into, but a cop with his radar gun pointed at us!  I was furious.  I would not have been going that fast if the driver in front of me hadn't been such a jerk.  I just wanted to get away from him and drive the speed limit.  I could easily drive those mountain roads, curves and all, at 55 MPH, or at least considerably faster than 30 MPH.  This whole game of speed up and slam on your brakes was downright dangerous.  There are some drivers who are like horses in that they don't want anyone in front of them period, and they'll run you off the road if they have to maintain that first place position.

Well, I spotted the cop before Mr. Jerk Off did, and I had to slam on my brakes.  Mr. J.O. flew past me, got in the lead position again, then slammed on his brakes until we were going 30 MPH in the 55 MPH zone again.  The cop did not pull over either of us.  Go figure.  I guess Mr. J.O. was mad at me for making him speed in order to maintain his first-place position, so he started slamming on his brakes and going even slower around each curve.  I guess he was hoping I'd rear-end him so that he could claim whiplash, or better yet someone would rear-end me and I would actually get whiplash.

So, I didn't wait for a passing lane.  I waited for a safe location to pass and without warning snaked around him.  He, of course, stepped on the gas to race along side me as soon as he saw oncoming traffic coming over the hill.  But, I had the jump on him and was able to get over safely in front of him.  Suddenly, he was able to drive much faster on those curves, because he had this need to keep up with me.

I did eventually shake him, but I wish there were some clear cut law that would protect drivers from this kind of harassment on the road.  A police officer would have to follow the drivers a long ways and observe their behavior in order to determine if one driver was harassing another, so it's not easy for officers to spot these types of problems and hand out tickets, yet it's a very common problem that I experience when driving these mountain roads.

In my case, if I am going slower than the traffic behind me, I always slow down in the right-hand lane upon entering a designated passing area to make sure that everyone who wants to get past me can, and if there are no passing lanes, I pull out at vistas.  I can't stand having people pushing me from behind to go faster or weaving back and forth in my rear view mirror.  

There was a local case a while back in which one driver was tailgating another, and the driver in front got annoyed, so he purposefully slammed on his brakes.  The driver in back hit him.  I guess the driver in front didn't expect that.  He just wanted to teach the tailgater a lesson by giving him a scare without actually getting into an accident.  The driver in front knew he would get into trouble for maliciously causing the wreck, so he took off in an attempt to avoid taking responsibility.

The driver in back chased him around town.  The driver in back cornered the driver in front so that he had nowhere to go, and then exited his vehicle and proceeded to beat the windshield of the car in front with a baseball bat.  The driver in front stepped out of his car to stop the man from destroying his car, and the man turned the baseball bat on him.  They were both at fault and both got into trouble for their roles in the incident, but it always amazes me how something as simple as having everyone respect the law and each other's space would prevent such incidents from occurring in the first place.

Sometimes I think a few of us have never evolved past the Neanderthal stage.

Culture Shock

One of the things I've noticed while spending so much time visiting Southern California is that while the people are mostly kind, friendly and helpful face-to-face, they become maniacs once they get behind the wheel of a car.  I have never heard so much honking in my life -- and it's angry, lean on your horn, curse words out the window kind of honking -- not little friendly toots to let someone know that the light turned green.  The most common situation I saw was an elderly person making a right-hand turn too slowly, and the impatient younger person behind him or her blasting their horn at them, because God forbid, they made him or her slow down and come to a 2-second stop while they completed their cautious turn.

I think I told you about the multiple car accidents I saw all along a 5-mile route I took to and from the market -- one that happened just a few feet away from me when a car stopped to let me walk across the supermarket aisle.  Another driver thought the car stopped for him, and went.  Somehow two cars T-boned and one car hit another from behind in the process.  The crash was deafening and they couldn't have been going more than 20 MPH.

I also ran into that issue in which people wouldn't give me my space.  I'd park way out in the lot where there were no other vehicles, and before I could even get out and lock my car, all these other drivers would pull into the spaces surrounding me, leaving only a couple of inches between my car and theirs, even though there were plenty of spots closer to the store.  I feel claustrophobic when my vehicle gets boxed in like that.  One time in Mojave I couldn't open any door of my car to get in, because other drivers parked so ridiculously close.   So, I climbed through a passenger side window that I had left rolled down, and slid across to the driver's seat to get out of the tight spot.

Saturday night someone in the neighborhood was having a party and I watched as car after car pulled onto the street to find a parking spot along the curb.  So many people parked right up against someone else's bumper so that there was no way they could get out.  Sure enough, I got woken at 1:30 in the morning as people stood outside my window yelling for other people to move their cars.  There just seems to be a general lack of empathy or consideration of others.  It appears that the phrase "putting yourself in someone else's shoes" is an impossible feat for many people.

I think of all the experiences I had, the one that took the cake happened at a gas station mini mart.  I was inside getting a cup of coffee, and there were several people in line waiting to pay.  A man of retirement age marched in right up to the cash register, cutting off everyone else in line, and demanded that the lady behind the register come out to fix a gas pump.  She said, "If the pump doesn't work, you'll have to move to another one.  I'm sorry."

The man yelled, "Your service here sucks!  I hope you have a nice day!" and stormed off.  (It was a self-serve gas station.)

By the time I got up to the register, the poor lady was blinking back her tears.  Our eyes met and she said, "I'm sorry you had to hear that." 

I said, "No, I'm sorry for you.  No one should be treated that way." 

She said, "I'm here all alone and I have to run the gas station, the mini mart, and the car wash all at the same time.  I can't just walk away from the register to reset the gas pumps."

I said, "It sounds like management needs to hire another person, so that all the pressure isn't on you."

She said, "Yeah, and sometimes it's the first person in the morning who yells at me, and then I feel like my day is ruined."

I've heard stories about the afterlife in which our souls are presented with a sort-of fast-forward movie of our lives, showing every interaction we had with every person, and we are made to feel everything that we made other people feel.  I hope there is some truth to that, so we can at least evolve as a species and become more caring toward others.

My Latest Adventure

I had plans to drive the 400 miles to my mother's house this month with my husband or son to pick up my mother's car and some more valuables before putting her house on the market.  However, both my husband and son were booked up and didn't have the time to go with me.  As a result, I flew into Los Angeles, took a taxi to her house and started packing up more of her stuff that I didn't want to be stolen during open houses and real estate tours.  I'm not good about flying, driving, or being a passenger in fast moving cars, so I had to load up on my anti-anxiety pills.

Once I got some stuff packaged together, I went into the garage to unlock my mother's car, but the key fob didn't respond.  I unlocked the car with the key, but the ignition wouldn't start.  This made no sense to me, because my mother had just paid Triple AAA to put a brand new battery in her car in February.  I had the receipt.  I called Triple AAA for help, explaining that they just put a battery with a 3-year warranty in her car that only lasted 3 months.

They were going to send someone out to take a look, until they found out that my mother passed away.  Then they said that I couldn't use her card, nor could they transfer her membership to me.  They weren't going to make good on that warranty simply because the member passed away!  What bastards!  They tried to sell me a new membership, but told me that I couldn't use it that day.  I said, "Well, the car is broken down now, and I need help now, so if you can't help me, then I don't want the membership."

I called my mother's neighbor to ask for a ride to Radio Shack so that I could replace the battery on the fob key, hoping the problem was as simple as that.  Some cars won't start if they don't detect the fob.  It's a security feature.  The neighbor drove me up, I replaced the fob battery, he drove me back, and the fob still wasn't responding.  He said the car battery was probably dead then, and he brought his portable charger over to charge it up.  We let it charge all afternoon and overnight, but the battery was still dead.

We began thinking that something else was wrong with the electrical system.  My husband tried talking me through checking the fuses over the phone, but by then I had lost patience.  I needed to get this car up and running by morning or I would be stranded in L.A. and my husband wouldn't be able to go to work, because he'd have to stay home to take care of the animals.

I called my mother's mechanic and explained the situation.  He knew my mother well.  She had been bringing her cars to him for over 40 years.  She lovingly called her mechanics "her Arabs", as her town has a strong middle eastern presence.  He said he would call a tow truck to tow the car to him and he'd try to fix it, but he closed at noon on Saturday, and if he didn't have the parts, I'd have to stay in town until Monday.  He was the only mechanic at the shop.  It didn't sound promising.

However, the tow truck driver was awesome.  He lowered his flatbed like a ramp at the end of her driveway, then rolled the car backwards out of her garage, down her driveway and right up the ramp.  He chained it down, raised the ramp flat, and we were out of there in five minutes.  It turned out that the mechanic was just sitting around with not much to do, so the tow truck driver rolled her car off his truck and down the driveway right into a bay at the shop.  Within two minutes, the mechanic had her battery charged and the car started up.  He said that battery Triple AAA gave her was no good and we'd need a new one.

I told him I had to drive the car 400 miles in the morning, so he installed the new battery, put air in the tires, checked the oil, filled all the fluids that were getting low, and had me out of there in a jiffy.  When all was said and done, he didn't even charge me for most of his services, and the battery cost less than the one my mother bought with her "Triple AAA discount".  I gave him a big tip and thanked him for taking care of my mother for 40 years.

I made it home safely without any further complications.  I was a bit paranoid that a cop would pull me over and want to know why I'm driving a car that isn't registered to me.  I mailed off the forms to transfer the pink slip, but haven't received anything back yet.  Part of the reason why I had to rush in getting the car across state lines was because its registration is going to end in July.  Once that happens, if I don't have the pink slip transferred, no one can drive it because no one can register it other than my mother.  I didn't want the car to get trapped in her garage, and then have us sell her house with her car in the garage.

I am now starting to get letters from people saying that they can't honor my beneficiary status until they receive the final death certificate that contains cause of death.  The latest I can get that is in October.  Since my mother's cause of death was undetermined due to the fact that she had so many health problems, and any of them could have caused her death, the Coroner can take up to six months before issuing the final certificate, which means I can't have access to any of my inheritance until then.  In the meantime, I'm still paying her bills out of my pocket while I'm unemployed. 

I'm unsure why they can't just issue the certificate.  They completed the autopsy last month, and all they have to do is fill in the paperwork.  The government sure has a wonderful way of setting things up so that people get screwed to the full extent.

Sometimes I'm Right, Sometimes I'm Wrong

Every time that I walk outside and find that my neighbors or their boarders released their horses into their front yard, I collect my horses and put them in stalls and pens where they cannot touch noses with the neighbors' horses.  My husband thought my behavior was a bit extreme, but I've been sticking to my guns on this one.  These people ride and trailer their horses all over the place, their horses do not look healthy, and I do not want my horses picking up on any diseases from them.

Now with the EHV-1 outbreak, I know that my gut instinct and reaction in this case was warranted.  Of course, this is just one more way in which my annoying neighbors have encroached on my space.  By allowing their horses into an area where they can reach over the fence into my property to get acquainted with my horses, the space I created for my horses has shrunk.  Have you ever known someone who manages to disrupt your life with every choice they make?  That's my neighbors.

I may have to work my way up to keeping my horses in the pasture full-time if these neighbors are going to make a habit out of putting their horses next to my paddock.  Yesterday, even after the news of the equine herpes virus was plastered everywhere, my stupid neighbor cut her horses loose yet again to co-mingle with mine.  I promptly put my horses in their stalls.

Bombay has a sarcoid growing on his cheek, and I was planning on administering another application of Xterra when my neighbor came running out of her house waving her arms and yelling at one of her horses that was reaching into the goat pen to eat the goats' hay.  My horses got all worked up at her excitement, and they started spinning in their stalls.  I had to postpone my veterinary care until the witch went away, as usual.  She just stood by the goat pen and wouldn't leave until I went into my house, which is typical.  Then once she realized that it was too much work to keep the horses out of the goat pen and that I had put my horses away to prevent "socialization", she put her horses away.

I was then able to let my horses out.  You'd think that fact that I always relocate my horses when her horses are in contact with them might give her a clue that I don't like it when she moves her horses to her front yard.  I know she's just trying to get them to eat the weeds, but it's too risky under the circumstances.  She's basically moving her horses closer to all the neighborhood horses, and my other neighbor has some very valuable show horses that can't afford to get sick.

That was a case in which I have been right to prevent contact between my horses and the neighbors' horses.  However, I was wrong to be so impatient with DirecTV each time they called.  They've been calling for over a month requesting to speak with me, and since I know that my bills have been paid and there is nothing I need from them, my husband and I have been putting them off.  My husband just kept telling them I wasn't home, because he knew I had enough to deal with and was protecting me from phone solicitors.

As a result they kept calling earlier and earlier in the mornings and later and later at night.  The last time they called too early on a Saturday morning I yelled at the man and hung up, figuring they were trying to sell me more of their product.  Yesterday I received a postcard in the mail from them explaining that they are giving me three free months of Showtime as a reward on the two year anniversary of my business with them, and they already switched it on.  Dang.  I've had the ability to view some great movies this past month and didn't know it, because we have our channels preset to avoid all the infomercials.

I know they are just trying to get us hooked, so that we will pay for the larger package after three months, but I'm enjoying actually being able to watch a movie at night when my insomnia won't let me sleep.  Usually, there is nothing on at 2:00 AM and I have to sit in the dark and stare at the walls. 

More Advice from a Survivor

I don't want to lose too many readers by taking the focus off horses and putting it onto a rather taboo or depressing subject, but this is important for everyone to know.  If your spouse passes away before you, make sure that you change all the bills over to your name before removing your spouses' name from your bank accounts.  My mother didn't do that, so I've had to jump through hoops in some cases to not just provide copies of my mother's death certificate, but to provide my father's death certificate in order to be able to close accounts.  Then if there is a refund on an overpayment and the check is issued to my father's name, I really have trouble explaining to the bank why I am depositing a check for someone who died ten years ago and whose name is not even on the bank account.

Also, when your retirement fund, life insurance, and/or annuity beneficiary passes away, make sure that you update those funds with a new living beneficiary.  Again, my mother didn't do that, so in some cases I will not be able access death benefits that should have been provided to me, since I paid for her funeral expenses and am still paying her bills.  Some agencies are wise enough to have a procedure they follow in such cases that involves assessing the next of kin, the establishment of a Trust, and who has been paying for the funeral and debts, but many are too stupid to consider that perhaps the designated beneficiary passed away too.  I'm sure this will all get ironed out in time, but it does create more phone calls, more expense and more paperwork for the survivors.

I see a lot of people "invest" their money in things, such as artwork, antiques, and jewelry.  The value of such items may go up over time, but not by much.  The reality is that since most people have to hold down a paying job and have responsibilities to their other family members, they can't afford to take the time to go through all of the personal belongings of a loved one who is deceased, get it appraised, and personally sell it or move it.

Most of us have to hire an estate sales firm to process and sell it all while we go on with our lives, which means that the estate sales firm earns somewhere around 50% of the proceeds from their estate sale.  Ultimately, the investment made in those nice things never really gets fully inherited by the intended recipients.

I think it's inevitable that each of us will have to deal with the business side of someone's death at some point during our lives.  If not, consider yourself lucky.  At any rate, think about whomever will have to deal with the business end of your own death, and try to make it as easy on them as possible by preparing ahead, keeping in mind that an average lifespan is not guaranteed. 

In other news, I got a picture of that escaped or abandoned domestic bunny that has been visiting us early in the mornings shortly after sunrise.

Waskily Wabbit.

My Herd is Growing

No, I'm not getting more horses, but my horses have adopted the three goats and two rabbits next door as a part of their herd. They've become quite attached and spend all their time standing at the fence.

With a larger herd, the horses feel more confident about lying down...

...and sleeping on the job.

The goats are very sweet. I can't figure out how goats got associated as a symbol of the devil, because they seem so angelic. The horses are going to have a hard time adjusting when the goats are taken away to their new home.

In other news, I've been trying to keep all my limbs and digits intact, because I have to make at least two more trips to my mother's hometown to settle her affairs in a timely manner, and I'm the only one who can do it. I can't afford to have any accidents right now.

So, the other morning I looked out the kitchen window and saw a cream-colored domesticated bunny sitting on my driveway. I went outside to see if it would let me catch it. I thought perhaps one of the bunnies my neighbor is babysitting got loose. It let me walk right up to it, but then hopped away onto another neighbor's lawn.

I gave up and went to the horse paddock to feed the horses their breakfast. I noticed that Lostine's feed trough was up against the water trough, but it was so cold and windy that I didn't want to have to get my fingers cold by opening the metal gate to move the water trough. My gloves were too far away and I was being lazy. I tossed each horse a flake of hay, only to have Lostine dump half of hers into the water trough. Argh!

So, I opened the gate with my cold, bare hands, moved her feed trough, and pulled all of the hay out of that icy water. By the time I got back into the house, my hands were in some intense pain. I put a cup of water in the microwave to prepare a cup of instant coffee, and when the timer buzzed, I reached in like I always do to retrieve the cup, not thinking that my hands were still painfully cold and wet.

The damage is that I burned three of my fingers and have a huge blister on one. Ouch. I haven't experienced a burn in a long time. I hope the majority of the pain goes away before my next trip. I'm gonna need those fingers.

Sunday Stills: Looking High, Looking Low

For this challenge I just used my lightweight point-and-shoot Canon. I didn't really want to have to lay down on the ground or risk having my good Nikon DSLR kicked or dropped from a ladder. I didn't even look through the lens, and the results were fun and interesting.

Looking high...

Looking low...

See more links to participants of this Sunday Stills Challenge.

Book Review: The Five Ways We Grieve by Susan A. Berger

I received a few book review requests shortly after my mother passed away, and only agreed to one, because the book was relevant to what I was going through. The Berger Model is explained within "The Five Ways We Grieve" by Susan A. Berger. The subtitle reads, "Finding You Personal Path to Healing after the Loss of a Loved One." I was interested in this book because it was published by Shambhala Publications, which often puts out books encompassing Buddhist as well as other philosophies.

Most of us are familiar with the five stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. Apparently, that model is more a description of what those who are aware they are dying go through. The Berger Model deals with five types of grieving that the survivors of loss might experience. These grief paths include those of the Nomads, the Memorialists, the Normalizers, the Activists, and the Seekers.

The book begins explaining how the loss of a loved one does not just affect us temporarily, but alters us in a way that affects us throughout the remainder of our lives. That is something I had never thought about, but it makes sense. Most traumatic events affect us permanently to varying degrees, and then when you remove someone from the room, your routine, or your life, the social dynamic changes, at the very least.

It is important to be aware of how you have been changed by the loss. That way you can use it to your advantage instead of letting it take control of you. The middle of the book discusses each of the five types in detail, and the end of the book provides you with self-exploration questions. I could see myself in all five of the grieving types, but I think I am predominately an Activist. I've been spending a lot of time communicating with others about health care and how to prepare for their own death, so that there is a minimal amount of work for their loved ones, allowing them a chance to grieve.

Examples of stories of how other have grieved are provided throughout the book, including the experiences of some who lost loved ones in the 9/11 terrorist attacks, some who lost loved ones to long battles with cancer and other diseases, some who were caretakers during the slow death of Alzheimer's, and some who lost their loved ones suddenly and unexpectedly in both common and uncommon ways. For me, the most astounding cases were those who lost several loved ones within a few days, weeks or months of one another. Death is a part of life, but I am amazed that some people even have the strength to make it through multiple losses within a short period of time.

Perhaps the most insightful paragraph is in the end: "When we lose a loved one, fear is one of the strongest emotions we feel. Fear for our safety and our basic security. Fear about what will happen to us and our family. Fear of not being able to manage our responsibilities on our own. Fear of being alone."

That is so true for me, because life has dealt me more than a few blows. Our family has experienced multiple lay-offs from jobs, injuries, surgeries, and even homelessness. What comforted me throughout my life was that my parents were always there to cushion the fall and help out in anyway they could. Now that they are both gone, I worry more, because it is suddenly all up to me to keep my family safe. My backup system is no longer accessible.

You can find this book on Amazon.

Strange Morning

Today is the day that my son competes in the regional championships for pole vaulting.  Ever since yesterday my gut instinct was telling me to stay home.  There was no logic behind it.  I just felt that I needed to be home.

So, my husband left with the camera to go film the event and shortly after he left around 8:30 AM, a strange man came to the door and knocked.  My hair stood on end, because my husband's boss had an experience a while back in which he left for work in the morning, and a strange man knocked on his door right after he left.  His wife was scared to answer the door, and the guy turned the doorknob like he was testing it to see if it was unlocked.  She went to the window to ask him what he wanted, and he claimed his vehicle had broken down and he needed to use her phone.  She said she would make the phone call for him, and she went to get the phone, but when she returned, he was gone.  This guy who came to my door fit her description of the guy who came to her door.

Of course, because he knocked, the dogs went nuts and I couldn't open the door without them attacking him.  I couldn't talk through the window, because the barking was so loud that I couldn't hear anything.  I contemplated going around the back and approaching him from behind at the front door, but that would take too much time.  So, I shoved the dogs aside, ordered them to sit, and squeezed out the front door, taking a chance that the guy wouldn't try to enter the front door knowing it was guarded by vicious dogs.

I slammed the door behind me and said, "I can't answer my door, because my dogs will attack.  That's why I have NO TRESPASSING signs all over the place."

I always like to point out those signs, because it continually astounds me how strangers still come to the door despite the fact that they are clearly not welcome.  The guy kept his hands in his pockets as if trying to be submissive and he told me that he blew a tire on his trailer, and he wanted to know if there are any places around here where he could get a new tire.  I told him where, and he said he saw a place further away.  Then I thought, why is he asking me if he already knows where there is a tire place?  I was trying to save him some gas by telling him about a place that was just a mile away, and he insisted on going to the place that was three miles away. 

He was acting strangely, probably because I was not being friendly and I made him uncomfortable, but it is really strange to come to my door right after my husband drives off so early in the morning.  I was in my battle stance, ready to defend myself should he make a move.  I was half-expecting him to ask to use my phone, which would be suspect since most people carry mobile phones now-a-days.  Then he explained that he can't drive his trailer and asked if he could park it on my property until he gets the tire changed.  I softened up a bit, because this is the first time anyone has ever been respectful enough of my PRIVATE ROAD signs to ask permission to park there, so I pointed to the spot where he could leave his trailer.

He was hauling an off-road vehicle on his trailer, and he backed that off the trailer to park in the spot I pointed out, then put the spare tire on the flatbed trailer and drove off, so I guess he was legitimate, but you can never be too careful.  I've been very paranoid about letting people into my house ever since I brought home my mother's stuff.  I have paperwork that is crucial to settling her estate and I don't want anything to go wrong, whether it be fire or burglary or someone inadvertently knocking something important into the trash. 

Then right after he drove off, the phone rang.  I looked at the clock and thought it must be my husband or son, because no one in his right mind would call that early on a Saturday morning.  It was a DirecTV salesman!  I got pissed and yelled, "It's waaaaay too early in the morning.  Goodbye."

They've been calling me before 10:00 AM and after 8:00 PM, and I feel that is totally inappropriate.  You are NOT going to win over customers by waking them up!  DirecTV has been totally hassling us to buy bigger packages and they won't take no for an answer, so I'm thinking about switching to Dish because I'm tired of being harassed.  I don't know if Dish would leave me alone or not, though.  They may run their company the same way.  TV is like the absolute least important thing to me right now, and it's really hard having to put up with high pressure salesmen when I just had a death in the family and have much bigger issues to deal with. 

Since the morning has started off on such a crazy note, I'm not exactly looking forward to the rest of the day.  Oh yeah, and did I mention that we've got another storm moving in?  Every Saturday the wind and rain have to screw up my son's track meets, and the snow and hail have to pummel us every Sunday, which is the only day I can really work with my horses on my own property without having distractions from next door.

Darn it!  The phone just rang again.  This time it was my husband reporting that the top 3 pole vaulters go to the State finals, and our son came in 4th.  Dang.  He's got to be so disappointed.  Poor guy.  He worked so hard and I'm proud of him.  Apparently, he cleared the bar by a lot, but just knocked it off on his way down.  It's kind of like jumping horses.  You can't bump the jump.

My husband said that he saw the guy who came to the door as he was driving off, so that means the guy saw him drive off, but still came to the door knowing that one of its occupants left.  Just a few minutes ago the guy came back with his truck and trailer and parked them blocking the end of my driveway, which is one of my pet peeves, and then he drove away in the off-road vehicle.  That's kind of strange.  I can't tell you how many times I have had to drive somewhere and couldn't get out of my own driveway because of someone blocking it.  I noticed that people did that at my mother's house too.  It seems awfully inconsiderate to block someone in their own driveway.  I mean, are we a civilized society or not?  You don't park your car in the aisle at Wal-Mart.  You find a parking space.  Around here, there is plenty of road to park on without the need to block someone's driveway.

Last night a car alarm went off and it sounded like it was coming from our driveway.  I ran to the door and the alarm stopped right when I switched on the porch light and opened the door.  I went outside and looked around, but couldn't figure out the source of the alarm.  So, there's been a lot of odd activity around our neighborhood, which is making me paranoid.  On top of that, we've been having a lot of local earthquakes that make the walls creak and crack so that it sounds like someone is breaking into the house.  Ugh.  I need to take an anti-anxiety pill.

Say Cheeseburger

I owed the animal shelter a photo shoot, because at the end of March I had told one of the officers that I would be by the next morning to take pictures, and then couldn't show up, because that turned out to be the dreadful day in which I received the phone call about my mother's passing.

Life has been a blitz ever since. I did make some time to walk a few dogs mainly to take my mind off of things, but I wasn't ready until yesterday to put my professional photographer hat back on. Right off the bat, one of the volunteers said something rude and insensitive to me, and I began wondering if I had made a mistake in volunteering my photography services. Then I reminded myself that I'm there to help find homes for the dogs, and nothing else should matter.

Still it was hard to remove the sting of the way I was treated, so I'm taking it easy today and trying to avoid people. In two hours I was only able to photograph half the adoptable dogs, so I do need to go back at some point to photograph the rest.

During my absence, I found that almost all the dogs who had been in the shelter in March had been adopted by May, which was encouraging. We even had multiple people interested in some dogs and had to sort out who got them. It's sad seeing people disappointed, because someone beat them to it and adopted the dog they liked before them.

Anyway, I know you like to see pictures from my animal shelter photo shoots, so here are a few of them. I didn't get as many unique or interesting shots this time, because many of the dogs either had to be kept on leash or had to be held up. There was a lot of activity going on in the opposite direction of where I was shooting for the best light, so the dogs kept turning away from me and sticking their butts in the camera. Many of them didn't respond to my dog barks and kitty meows and silly noises, or if they did, it was a half-second glance and my camera kept having a one-second delay between me pressing the shutter release and it taking the picture.

Also, for those dogs who could go off leash, I had to capture them when they were doing something interesting or looked good, and unfortunately, much the time their most interesting shots had ugly backgrounds. If I had the time to Photoshop everything, I'd remove some of the backgrounds. The volunteers help me in trying to get the dogs to face the camera, but a lot of times their feet or legs end up in picture as a result. If this were a job where I was being paid for my time or if I simply had a lot of spare time, I would clean up that stuff.

At any rate, the dogs look great and are happily waiting for new families.

At My Desk and Beyond

It's truly amazing how much time is required to settle an estate.  I'm sitting at my desk all day fielding phone calls, composing emails, and filling in forms until I'm cross-eyed.  My husband comes home from work asking, "How was your day?" and I've still got several hours of work to do. 

When I started this process, I had planned to only use an attorney when legal documents had to be drawn up, but now I find myself talking with him every day and asking him to handle tasks for me that I can't wrap my brain around.  I know that at $250 an hour, his bill is going to be off the charts by the time we are done with this process, but right now I can say that it is worth every penny.  I am so afraid of making a mistake that will result in many more hours or days or weeks of work to correct.  I'm such an idiot that I filled in a license plate number on the line where the car seller is supposed to sign.  I mailed off the pink slip anyway, figuring that the DMV has experience with people dumber than me and has, hopefully, learned to be forgiving.

I haven't had time to do much with the horses beyond mucking out their stalls, feeding them, and filling up their water troughs.  Bombay is getting attached to the biggest goat.  I'm sure he'll be heartbroken when it is time for the goats to go to their new home.  The goat rubs against the fence, and Bombay sniffs him.  I have to admit that it is pretty cute. 

I let the horses out onto the RV lane to graze while I mucked stalls.  When I finished, I found Bombay standing on a balled up tarp that we're going to take to the dump.  I was like, "Geez, horse.  The next time you spook at something, I'm going to kick your butt.  Your spookiness is all an act."

I took the dogs for a walk at the local dog park and actually saw some people riding horses there.  I got all excited and started to head over to talk with them until I realized they were my annoying neighbors' boarders.  These are the people who do donuts in the horse paddock in their pick-up truck honking their horn repeatedly to chase the horses out of their way.  Hello!  Their horses may be deaf, but I am not.

They are also the people to wait until I'm doing something sensitive and dangerous with one of my horses, and then they cut their horses loose into the yard next to my horse paddock and let them gallop around, triggering a stampede at my place.  I've yelled at them for their horn honking and for not having control over their horses, but they keep pulling these stunts anyway.  When they saw me coming with my dogs, they turned around and went in the opposite direction.  I guess they knew that for once they were the ones in a vulnerable position.

I, of course, would never dream of doing something that would spook their horses and cause them harm.  They, on the other hand, need to go back to the assembly line.  They seem to be missing some parts... like manners and morals.

Too Many of 'Em

Morons. There are just too many of them in my area. We suffered through yet another power outage last night. This has been going on at least every other week since last fall. I keep wondering when our power company is going to get its act together. Why does it annoy me so much? Because we have to go without heat and water, our food in the fridge goes bad (and the power outages only happen within hours of us buying a week's worth of groceries and filling up our fridge, of course), and Midge the Scaredy Dog goes nuts, so I have to shove her into her little cage to keep her from tearing the house apart. Then when the power comes on, we have to walk around the house re-setting the clocks and alarms so that everyone gets to work and school on time. (And yes, I know about generators, but I'd rather save up my money to just move out of this hell hole to some area where people know how to manage a power plant.  I might, however, invest in battery powered alarm clocks.  You know that as soon as I do, the power outages will come to an end.)

Argh! Would you believe it is snowing right now? Give me a break! I just let the horses out of their stalls because the weather man said there would be no precipitation after 7:00 AM. Well, guess what? There was no precipitation before 7:00 AM, and now that it actually is 7:00 AM, it's snowing. Morons.

After hardly getting any sleep between insomnia and the power outage, I came into the family room to relax in my recliner with a cup of coffee, and some guy driving some vehicle with a souped up engine drove past at 6:30 AM waking everyone in the neighborhood. Isn't there a law against how loud engines on street cars can be? Morons.

Then there's the goat situation...

My horses were better off when they were scared of the goats. Now the horses are charging the goats through the fence part of the time, trying to play with them through the fence another part of the time, and lying down beside them another part of the time. In this case, after I took these pictures, Gabbrielle rolled into the fence and got cast. I had to help her up.

Also, the horses are suddenly getting all kinds of cuts on them they normally don't get, which means that either they are cutting themselves on the fence or they are running or rubbing into goat horns through the fence.

Then there's the condition of my fence. I paid all the money I had in the world ($6,000 of hard-earned cash) to put up that chain-link fence back in the day when the horse of the lady who used to live in that house knocked down the previous chain-link fence. She couldn't afford to fix it herself, so I just paid for it and ordered her to keep her horse elsewhere. I had to install all new posts with stronger, thicker steel, and new chain-link.

Now these goats spend the majority of their day rubbing back and forth along the chain-link, creating dips in it where they stretch it out. They are even breaking the wires that anchor the chain-link to the posts. The goats are white, but they have gray all over their sides from rubbing the fence.

Also, I pile manure along the bottom of the fence line to prevent my horses from stabbing themselves on the sharp parts that stick out down there. There is a wire that runs along the bottom of the chain-link and if they paw, their hooves get stuck in that wire, they panic and pull back, and injure themselves. Anyway, the goats are pawing under the fence and digging out all that manure I piled up there to protect my horses' hooves and legs.  (It wasn't bad at the time I took these pictures, but now our ground cover on our side of the fence is eroding since they dug out everything on their side of the fence.)

These neighbors are a pain in the butt. Big time. They just don't have a clue as to how negatively their decisions affect me, and I'm afraid to complain, because each time I've complained in the past, they've just come up with some solution that is worse than the previous problem. Morons.  (And, yes, goats are allowed to be kept on the properties in my neighborhood.  I just don't know why they chose to pen them right up against my horse paddock.  They have nearly two acres of land.  Let's spread it out, people.  We don't need to be on top of each other.)

I, personally, think that these do-gooders told the goat owners to put the goats in the corner of their property that is furthest away from their house and closest to mine, because they didn't want to have to listen to the bleating or smell them.  It's just like when the lady started a day care service to make some money.  She sent the kids over to my place and happily collected her paychecks.  I did all the work having to answer the two-hundred-thousand questions that I got hit with each time I walked into my horse paddock in hopes of getting a little quiet-time with my horses.

I know that sellers can't choose who buys their home -- they can only choose the terms of the contract, but when we are in the position to move out of here, I hope the worst neighbors in the world move in so that my current next-door neighbors can have a taste of their own medicine.

So, my husband just mowed the front lawn and my son just mowed the pasture for me yesterday.  Does anyone know what effect snowfall following a fresh spring mowing does to grass?  None of my privacy trees have grown back this year.  Normally, I would plant replacements in May, but obviously there is no point since nothing can survive these winters (and falls and springs).  I'll just have to pull everything out of the ground and start hanging dirty laundry in front of my neighbor's guest house window if I want privacy, I guess.