I almost want to quit reading the news

I am a news junkie, without a doubt. I read every online news website I can get my hands on, I look at every photo, note every byline. I’d rather grab a newspaper than a magazine most times. Some stories annoy me, others are fun to read. I try not to read the gossip lest I begin to judge others whose shoes are on their own feet and not mine. I’d like to believe there is good in the world instead of the killings and other crimes against each other. If I don’t read it, will it go away? No, probably not. So with this forum, I get to speak my opinion on the news around me and not just to my family at the dinner table. Here goes for today.

Financial conglomerate JP Chase Morgan is being sued for telling a mortgage customer to not pay their mortgage to qualify for a loan modification then foreclosing anyway. The customer is suing for 150k and my bet is they have a pretty good shot at winning. I am however very annoyed at the comments posted by anonymous ‘perfect’ mortgage holders and other ‘concerned citizens’ who think this family over spent, lived beyond their means and deserved the foreclosure. While there may be many who did live above a budget and contributed to the financial mess the country is in, there are still many more who were victimized by predatory lending. It is easily done. Let me tell you how it could happen.

A single mom who runs her own prosperous daycare business is in the market for a home to call her own. She knows very well what she can and cannot afford and what she needs to make her family and her business comfortable. Of course she has wants, but they aren’t at the top of the list. She also knows that her credit score is not perfect and resigns herself to the fact she might have to pay a little higher interest rate, also which she has included in her calculations. She looks at many, many houses in her area; she could be a real estate agent, she learns so much about houses, properties, the area, and the schools. She narrows it down to a couple and then begins the application process. The m0rtgage company tells her, based on her income, she could afford twice the amount of the houses she is looking at. Really? Wow. That would be great, she thinks. But her reality sets in and she chooses a house a little less than what her budget called for, leaving room for any kind of emergencies that might come along (and they did come along – within the first 3 months, she replaced a furnace, central air unit, roof and hot water tank).

Fast forward to the approval: she is signing papers for an adjustable rate mortgage for 30 years, to be adjusted based on the federal interest rates every two years. Her thought is to be able to refinance after the first two years of steady, on-time payments. She even added an additional payment each month so that it would cut down on her interest payments over the 30 years. Her plans work out well for the first year or so. The second year, her daycare slows as parents are getting laid off. She also has a medical condition that prevents her from taking a job outside the home and relying on a disability check that barely covers the necessities. Then she gets the letter: her monthly mortgage will be going up from $967 to $1137, an increase of about 15%. She won’t be able to refinance so she is stuck paying the additional amount. She struggles monthly until the next notice comes: $1397 per month. A 19% increase from what she was paying and a whopping 31% of her original monthly mortgage amount! She gives up. What more can she do? The house goes to foreclosure, sells for one-half of what is owed and the rest sits in collection, with very little hope of being paid off.

She was told by the third lender that was servicing her mortgage that in order for them to help her, she had to be behind three months then they could start the process for loan modification. That sounded too dumb to be advice. So she let them take the house and take the loss for being dumb. How do you encourage someone not to pay their bills in order to help them? She did everything the right way – she lived within her budget, contacted the mortgage company right away when she was struggling and did her best to maintain each month. Is this her fault, as many of the nameless, perfect posters on various news sites say? She did what she was supposed to and ended up without a home for her family.

This is a true story: I am she. People in glass houses who have a mortgage on them should definitely not throw stones. The economy, and the recession could throw the stones back and shatter your world.
Then what will you have to say?

This week’s crank blog

People and events piss me off on a regular basis. You would think people would be nicer to each other not only because it’s the right thing to do, but also in the age of the Internet, blogs and social networking sites, word is spread a lot faster and reaches more people. Business owners would be keen to extra service as everyone is short on the dollars and want the best product and service for their money. Let me start on those:

Grande’s Restaurant, Westmoreland, NY: (please note that this is NOT the Grande’s in Sauquoit, NY, where I and my family frequent on quite a regular basis. That establishment is super fantastic and I will continue to go there). My husband and I took our son’s to lunch after their first week of real work at the county’s summer youth workforce program. We were so proud of them and wanted to reward their hard-work and earnest in getting and keeping their jobs. We ordered slices of pizza and other finger fare and drinks. Not tons of food, but a simple lunch. After our order arrived, our youngest asked for a side of ranch dressing to dip his pizza in; quite the norm for him. The waitress brought it to us with a smile. She gave us the check but the owner (or manager, not sure of his title but he had the authority over the waitress) had made it a point to cross off the total and add a second check for the seventy-five cents for the dressing. I don’t mind paying for the extra but to go through the trouble to make an additional check for that stupid amount and risk alienating customers was a very poor business judgement on his part.  Had he come to us instead and said hey next time, there will be a charge, that would have worked out favorably on his part. But instead, he came off looking ungrateful for the business we did bring him and ignorant to the business we could cost him. As I told the waitress, I hope the seventy-five cents was worth it. It only cost him good customers.

Play It Again Sports, New Hartford, NY: good in theory to buy used equipment but not to trade or sell.

With three boys that play three sports and not the same ones, buying cleats is a seasonal ritual. This year, our youngest wanted to try football again. We bought him a brand new pair of cleats from PIAS, as well as other merchandise for our other son. That was three weeks ago. After only four practices, he changed his mind and wanted to play soccer. (I am ok with that; he’s normally a soccer player anyway).  I figured I wouldn’t be able to get the money back and that was ok. But I also figured a good trade in for the $40 cleats would be at least $12-15 as they could turn around and sell them for $30 and still make double their money. He said he could only give me $8 because he can only give me what they resell for. (I should also mention that I had three other pairs of cleats to trade-two soccer and one baseball all in great condition. He offered me $3 for each pair but the soccer cleats in the resale bin were going for $10 apiece… 333% profit and mine were in better condition than the ones in the bin). I appreciate the need to run a business and make money but if you don’t have customers, you won’t have a business.

As I post this crank, I will also post about the fantastic people I meet out there, business or otherwise, who go out of their way to be nice to others. And when I do find a clerk or a person that does something nice, I do make sure to say something to them and their supervisor if that’s the case. Good should always be acknowledged.

Twenty four hours

Twenty-four hours ago, I was laying in my nice, soft bed, wrapped in my husband’s arms. The warmth of his body had me feeling safe and secure. His breathing was a lullaby of peace. We are one, intertwined at the legs, unbreakable and content.

I spent the morning trying to clean the house to go camping. Sounds insane, doesn’t it? But there is a method to my madness this time.  I am going to be bringing a mess of dirty laundry, kitchen utensils and other used items from the camping adventure back into the house and I don’t want to see an even bigger mess that needs to be addressed.  So, I clean, get the dogs outside and fed, pack the cooler, pack the trunk and take a second, and perhaps third, look around to make sure I don’t forget anything.  I haven’t so we are on our way.

The ride is uneventful – if you consider teenage boys bickering uneventful. We arrive at the campgrounds with excitement and anticipation of swimming and roasting marshmallows. My husband’s excitement revolves around a competition of putting up the tent before the boys put up theirs. It’s such a guy thing. Tents are up (husband won, very close call), sleeping bags and blankets are spread out and it’s time to hit the beach. That is my cue for a few minutes of peace and quiet as my husband and the boys hit the water for some cooling off.  I pop a squat in the fold-away lawn chair and rest my feet on the fire pit (sans fire), close my eyes and enjoy the warmth of the summer sun.  For a few minutes anyway.

Dozing off for a few minutes in the sun, I was rudely interrupted by a large covering of gray clouds that threatened the sanctity of my nap. The clouds moved closer, became darker and more menacing than I would have preferred. We closed ranks and hunkered down for a windy, rainy, nasty spell. My husband and I stayed in the one tent and the boys were supposed to be in the other. But teen boys have to challenge the wind and rain.  A dining mesh tent escaped it’s owners, our camping neighbors, and my sons chased it down with the help of other campers. I watched from the comforts of my tent with the zip down screen window like a made for TV movie that I could not change the channel from. They made new friends and could have walked away with a drink if they were older.

Dinner was  your typical camping fare – hamburgers, hotdogs, macaroni salad, chips and dip and s’mores. The wind and light rain were the condiments and the ambience at the same time. At the end of the meal, I do the cleaning up, just as I do at home. How is that? This is supposed to be my break from reality too. But the ambience cut dinner short and we retreated to our respective tents. We had flashlights and amused ourselves as each other’s tents became backdrops for crude lighting techniques that made us giggle. The rain came down harder and the wind whipped faster, making it easier to call it a night.

The rain hit the outside of the tent like a smattering of applause. I worried the tents would leak but as the night wore on, we remained dry and safe. The wind roared through like a freight train, trying to lift the tent off the ground and take it where it wished. We won that battle, thanks in part to the one-piece construction of the tent floor and sides.

My husband and I settled into out makeshift full-size bed – a sleeping bag on the tent bottom with a sheet and several blankets to keep us warm and safe. Although the bed frame and the missing four walls were different than the night before, the feeling was the same. I am wrapped in my husband’s arms, the warmth of his body had me feeling safe and secure, in spite of the wind and rain. His breathing was a lullaby of peace. We are one – intertwined at the legs unbreakable and content.

Earned repect vs. demanded respect

Youtube is fabulous for clips of cute kids, funny dogs and singing sensations. It can also show the world just how dumb some people can look every time they open their mouth.

Senator Barbara Boxer, of California, ‘corrected’ Brig. Gen. Michael Walsh, directing him to call her senator instead of ma’am. According to her, she worked hard for that title and would appreciate him using it when addressing her. I didn’t realize titles were so important at senate hearings. I thought the issue at hand was on environment and public works, not whether or not the proper salutation was used when addressing Boxer. She could have easily been called ‘toots,’ ‘babe,’ ‘sweetheart,’ or ‘doll.’ That would have been incredibly more offensive and warranted a tongue-lashing at that point.

I would be pleased when being addressed as ma’am by military personnel who have so graciously and generously given of their time, talent, hearts and soul to stand up for the rights and freedoms we all enjoy. Those would also include the opportunity Boxer has been afforded as a woman and being able to serve the people in a governemtal capacity. Would she even know how many woman around the world would give anything to have the chance to lead their people but aren’t allowed to because of their gender? Because of soldiers like Brig. Gen. Walsh, she is able to sit in a position of power not based on her gender but on the freedoms our military have garnered for us.

I do hope she takes the time to realize just what Brig. Gen. Walsh went through to earn his title and the respect that he has. Brigadier General is not the low man on the totem pole. It comes from years and years of working hard, learning and leading others. I’d like to see her make it through just basic training.

She says he thinks…

I love my wife more than anything in this world. I have loved her since the day I met her and have been in love with her on a daily basis. She calls me her ‘heavy,’ and she isn’t referring to my size. I am her protector, her guardian, her bodyguard. I love doing all that for her. She makes me feel needed and wanted and I am happy to show my gratitude by surrounding her at all times so that nobody will ever hurt her again.

We dated, we broke up, we got married a few years later, I left and I realized what a good woman’s love can do for a man and I came home. Things haven’t been so easy on every other front but the us front. We, as a couple, are strong, good together, appreciate and respect each other no matter what. It’s the life stuff that doesn’t work so well. (She has always said that as Aries, we can’t have both love and money/career. It’s one or the other and she chooses love each time). Finances are a huge issue. It isn’t that we have different views; its the fact that we don’t have any money at all. She works her ass off at her job(s) each day and comes home with a paltry check that doesn’t even cover the bounced check fees that we pay just to get by. My gig at the casino finally started and I can see a light at the end of this tunnel but she can’t. She gets so sad and depressed and I can’t pull her out of it. I don’t know what to do for her. Not even the simple things can bring her back from the edge of this funk she is in. I’d take her for a drive to look at the gorgeous fall foliage and to grab a nite to eat at a local diner or bring her a bouquet of wildflowers (her favorite) but we can’t afford it. And I don’t know that if by the time I can afford to do that for her, if it won’t be too late.

I can protect her from everything else but I can’t protect her from herself. She has health insurance to go to the doctor and get a prescription but we don’t have the copays for the drugs. So she goes without. She knows she needs more help but has no energy or desire to do so. She has mentioned several times that she can’t wait for this life to end but isn’t about to commit to a plan of action to hasten that idea, thankfully. Sometimes I want to shake her and say, “Snap out of it!” but I know that isn’t something that will work. I kow that if it was really that easy to snap out of it, she would. She doesn’t like feeling like this either. I hate the helpless feelings I have with it comes to her and this sickness. I hate that I feel so drained each day after her ups and downs that I don’t have the energy to comfort her. I do find the strength because she needs me more right now. And I know that she would move heaven and earth to be there for me. She showed me that when my father died. As tired and sick as she was, she was by my side every minute that I needed her. I love being able to repay that to her.

Just as I don’t know what to do for her, she doesn’t know what to do for her. She has never been one to sit back and let someone take care of her. She makes a plan and handles her business. This is killing her; I can feel it. Helpless is such an awful, sickening, sinking feeling. Make it go away.

(Written by the she)

Grocery shopping epiphany

Staying with my folks has caused me to think a lot. Reflect is more like it. At 38 years old, married with two of three boys still living at home, going back to life 20 years ago (add husband, two children, two dogs and a cat) isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. I used to joke that I was going to come back home and live with them; little did I know I was proclaiming my destiny. Life, at this point in time, has quite worked the way I planned but I know in my heart that everything happens for reasons we don’t yet know. Hoping to find out soon though.

Getting groceries for six people and three pets is a daunting task in and of itself. Add to the mix the actual prices of food, gas prices, the economy in general and wanting to be more organic and earth-frieldnly and I have created my own recipe for needed therapy.  As I plod down the aisles and try to buy foods for healthier living, I find that they are quite a bit more expensive than I had planned on in my quest to eat better. (This same quest happens every grocery store trip and lasts just through the produce section to the fresh baked goods tables.) I have bought pounds of fresh fruits and vegetables, fully intent on changing ingrained eating habits. Enter the bakery section and the lucious central NY tradition, half moon cookies (four-inch round chocolate mini-cakes with half white and half chocolate frosting). Cannot be passed up, no matter how good my intentions.

Then I hit the organic foods aisle. All the products entice me with labels such as “100% organic,” “All Natural Ingredients,” and of course Paul Newman’s own line of healthy foods. Back to my change of life mission. I buy Newman’s chocolate cookies, the natural equivalent to Oreo’s. I pray they taste good at over $4 a package. After seeing that price added to my cart, I think that smaller steps are called for. I plan meals for the week in my head while shopping (how smart is that?) and figure that if I buy one or two ingredients for each meal that are organic, that is better than nothing at all. So, I buy organic tomato paste for a baked pasta meal. I buy organic diced tomatoes for a meal of beef tips and noodles. And let’s not forget those cookies.

Of course this blows whatever budget that I should have had for groceries.  I have never used a budget in my life (could be part of the reason I am in the fix I am in).  I know what I need to purchase, whether it be groceries, gas, home decorations, presents, holidays, etc. I don’t want to set myself into a set dollar amount, then be stuck when something runs over due to an unexpected reminder that something else is needed (i.e those cookies). So I never put myself into that position. Now it might be time to do so.

So this brings me around to my epiphany…it’s time for a change. Not a huge, life-altering change. That I know I could not handle. But simple steps to create a better life for myself, my family, for my community, for the earth. So here are my thoughts:

1. Shop local farmer’s markets. Seems like a no-brainer but it supports the local economy, spend less on the middle man and healthier for my family. Hat trick for me! I just looked up local farmer’s markets and I found four within my area, one that has meats that are range free raised, in addition to the produce. Less gas would be spent in transportation costs, which lessens the gas consumption that is highly discussed lately. Bonus!

2. Actually make a budget for groceries. A resonable budget and stick to it. I know I should make a budget for other things too but I need small steps or I won’t follow through. I know how I am. I also plan to make weekly menus for breakfasts and dinners (during the school year) and plan for weekends. I am also going to take into account cravings, special occasions and time for spontaniety. Planning the ‘ f*k it, let’s just do it’ moments takes real concentration.

3. Using the cloth bags that I bought for groceries instead of leaving them in the kitchen. Every little bit helps.

4. And lastly, I want to live healthier. Not just in food consumption but in general as well. I have no exercise program to speak of. My boys are very active in sports and taking them to and from is exercise in its own right. My weekly exercise now consists of the one to two hour walk around the grocery store, loading and unloading the car. (I take that back ~ I don’t unload the car; the boys do. I don’t lift a thing. Not because I am lazy or disabled but because my boys have been taught to carry what’s in a woman’s hands out of respect for her.) So I plan to take a yoga course once a week and walk the dog four times a week for 30 minutes each time. I am starting right on that tomorrow. The dog can’t wait.

An exercise in the golden rule

This post is an exercise for you, my readers. It’s meant to educate, to make you think, to realize that karma will always, and I mean always, come along and bite you in the ass.

Take five index cards and lay them in front of you. On each card, write the five things in life that you cannot live without. I will give you mine. My husband and family. My pets. Sunshine and fresh air. Books to read and a pen to write. My memories. That’s it. Simple.

Look at your five. Take one away. You can’t have it anymore. Not even on a good day. It’s gone. Not so bad, right? Take another one away. Crumple it up and throw it in the trash. A little tougher but not as bad. Ok. Three left. The three most important things in your life. Take another away. A little more difficult, isn’t it? You have to take that third one away. No cheating. No holding it back for later. Gone. It’s gone. Two left. Whew! Ok. Done sweating now? Think you can’t live without the last two cards? Guess what’s next? Yep. Get rid of one of them. You have one left. The one thing in the world that you can’t live without. You need that in your life to feel fulfilled, comforted, important, happy, whole. Well, that one goes too. Gone. In the trash or on the floor. Any way you do it, that last one goes too. You are left with none of the things that mattered to you in your life. However many years you have been on this earth, all the memories you made, all the accomplishments you have had, with all that has defined you and it is gone in a matter of time. You can’t get them back. Whether physiology has taken them, by choice or under duress, you have lost the most important things in your life. What does that feel like? Did it hurt to let them go? What if you had to let them go all at once? What if you didn’t get to pick and choose what you lost and when?

We all get old and gray, even if only your colorist knows the truth. Somehow, if you are lucky, you might be able to leave this earth with everything that is important to you close to you. But if you aren’t as lucky, a disease attacks your body, another ravages your mind, you are still living and breathing until the end, whenever that may be. You still want respect. You want to be treated as a human being that mattered. That does matter. You did matter. You do matter.

Everyone needs to see and remember that. Not only caregivers of the elderly and those in need but everyone. One day it could be you in that nursing home without the most important things in your life. Karma.

Reprint from another of my blogs

I keep a myspace page to keep another eye on my boys and their friends. I also use it to keep in touch with friends I haven’t seen since high school and family that I don’t get to see regularly. It’s been a bunch of fun and I post tons of blogs there. Most of them are family-oriented – my family. They are usually light and don’t get into any heavy topics that shouldn’t be discussed at dinner parties.

I did, however, have an issue with a news story from last week, about a certain charicature on a certain magazine that caused a certain flap. My rant had nothing to do with politcs and more to do with rights and that both parties and the media included dropped the ball on this. Here is what I posted:

Anyone who really knows me knows that I am a laid-back, hippie-chick who doesn’t much care about what goes on in the world of politics or anything that ‘big.’ I live in my own little world, with my family everyday and don’t have much time to dwell on things that don’t directly effect me. A flat tire – that directly effects me. Liberals, right-wings, left wings, conservatives – if they don’t interfere with my daily left, that doesn’t effect me. Get my drift?

Ok well, first off, if you have read all of my blogs, you will have seen the one where I proclaim that the New Yorker is my fav magazine. I love the thoughts, the creative ideas, the ways it makes you think about things that don’t directly or necessarily effect your world. It may not be PC but it makes for a good read. That being said, the latest flap over this edition’s cover has be totally p*d off. Everyone is hootin’ and hollerin’ over the tasteless and offensiveness of it all but everyone is forgetting freedom of speech and freedom of the press. I went to foxnews.com and clicked on the story. Lo and behold they have a leave a comment section. Here’s what I posted:

Both camps dropped the ball on this one. Instead of being mortified, disgusted and in disbelief that someone could publish something as ‘tasteless’ as the cover is, either of them could have wrapped their arms around this as a true testament to the very core of the Constitution, which gives every American citizen the right to express themselves without fear or reprisals or repercussions and the same freedoms are afforded to the press. Freedom of speech and of the press aren’t as fast and loose as some would like to think it is. We have freedom of speech for a reason and it has served our country well despite how offensive that ‘speech’ may or may not be. Our country was founded on certain rights that, 232 years later, we seem to forget. Every person that is offended and calling for the editors and publishers to kiss various parts of their anatomy should stop and remember that there are people in this world who have lost their lives trying to speak their mind against any type of authority, speak their ideas and creative thoughts, to have their voices heard and their thoughts read by others. Obama and McCain should have taken this opportunity to remind the American people of the rights they have been afforded in this country which they live.

Go to p. 47 of the comments and scroll halfway down. You will see my name and the same blog. I am proud to be an American. Believe in it or not. You have the right to say so.

Is aging a graceful thing?

We are born. We grow up. We live. We die. Beginning and end are constants; the middle two may be in the reverse order or not in there at all. They are both variables that are defined by the dashes between our birth and death dates (high-school vice-principal said something to that effect in his speech to the exiting seniors a few years back). Some of us grow up and learn along the way. Some don’t. Some take life by the horns and ride the bulls down the streets of Pamplona. Some get through each day just to get through each day. Life itself isn’t usually pondered on a daily basis. Getting through life, well that takes a lot – strength, courage, a big bottle of pills. But usually something triggers the thoughts of, ‘life is too short,’ or ‘I can’t believe how the time has gone by.’ An event – a birth, a death, a wedding of a young man or woman who hasn’t been seen by some relatives since they were this high, a milestone birthday that ends in zero and includes some smart ass remark about age, death, over the hill and black ballons.

I think a visit to a local nursing home would also raise more awareness to our own mortality.

Men and women, in various stages of health, reduced to laying in a bed all day, totally or partially dependant on strangers to do their basic biddings. Think of washing your face and hands each day when you feel like it or taking a long hot shower on a cold morning. You don’t have to ask anyone. You don’t have to rely on the schedule of someone else who has a life outside of your room, who’s child could be sick, who’s husband or wife got into a car accident on the way to work, who has a hangover from the night before. They don’t come in, you don’t get a proper wash. You get a hurried scrub from the next person who is pissed off at the one who banged in. You can’t get yourself to the toilet anymore. The self-propellsion mechanism that you learned as a toddler has somehow failed you or doesn’t function as it used to. So you have an ‘accident’ and again are dependent on someone to clean you. When they have the time. You are embarassed, humiliated or quite possibly oblivious to the entire situation around you.

You live a life. You had a home. You had a family. You had hobbies, ambitions, dreams. Some of your dreams came true; some didn’t get past the first flicker. A sinister disease has robbed you of your memories day by day, minute by minute. You have been reduced to a 12 by 12 hovel with a 3 by 3 closet of which you get to cram all of your years into for the rest of your life. How long will that be?, you wonder. If you can still wonder at all.

The family members are shoved into these homes so that their family members may pursue the good life without the ugly and the bad staring them in the face everyday. We will all be old one day, without the control over many, some or all of our body systems. We may need the same care our elders needed. Unfortunately, what goes around, comes around. Or maybe that is fortunately. Sound vindictive? Bitter? If it does, you may need to do more soul searching and think less of convenience.

Figuring out this blogging thing…

I wrote out the following in my bio section but I can’t figure out where you can see it so I guess I will have to copy and paste it here.  I could take the time to traipse around the site and make it ‘mad cool’ (from the mouth of a 13 year old boy), but my friend, Mike, who makes fantastic Hard Lemonade, is beckoning feverishly. Twisting the top of that bottle. Pouring it over crackling ice cubes. Sounds like Rice Krispies on steroids. Ah…good friends, good times.

I am a thoughtful writer. To me that means, I have many thoughts about writing stories, articles, books and the ideas range from simple, every day life situations to more complex projects that would take more than the time I have to complete. These are called the post-its of my life. I add to this collection rather regularly. Some are scrawled quickly, others are notebook-sized pieces of paper that get shoved into a folder for further consideration at a later date. That folder gets ‘misplaced’ and another one created. And so on and so forth. You get the picture. Maybe this blog will force me to put those post-its to good use and get the good word of Mary Rose Stevenson out there.