Your Tax Dollars at Work

Oh, to be a 4 year-old boy and home from school 

when all the action is happening in your very own front yard.  

That was the feeling when the city water crew arrived to repair the leaking water line coming into our water meter.  I was glad to see the crew getting ready to do their job, but I wished the event held the fascination it would have if we had a 4 or 5 year old in the house.  "Mom, can I go out and watch the workmen?"  "Only if you promise to stay on the front porch and not get in their way."  "I promise, I promise with a cherry on top!"  What bragging rights that would give a kid when he told all his neighborhood buddies, "I saw then digging up our front yard with big machines!"

Never-the-less, in the morning we heard the city trucks with their trailers hauling the excavating equipment pull up to our curb.  We hopped quickly into the shower before the water to the house was shut off, dried ourselves and dressed, and then stood in the front doorway to watch the men and their big yellow machines go to work.

There was probing the ground with a long steel rod to locate the problem pipe.  Another worker offloaded his concrete cutting saw on wheels while other crew members started the back hoe and had it idling in the street.  A good chunk of concrete was separated from the rest of the walkway by the saw and then the big machines moved in to pry up the large section of concrete sidewalk and then let it fall repeatedly, trying to get it to break into smaller pieces to be hauled off.  Still, somewhat exciting, even for a 55+ year old kid in the doorway.

We were off to our own appointed places of work as the city crew's repair work was winding down.  When I returned home in the evening, there was a big muddy spot where once the flooded sidewalk was.  A blue ribbon cordoned off the missing walk, presumably preventing any distracted joggers or walkers from falling into the mud pit of 3-4 inches deep and thence extracting a million dollars form our insurance company and/or the city.

A crew of concrete workers returned next week on the morning of Washington's birthday to set the forms and pour a new walkway.  When I came home in the evening, I did a bad thing (so unlike the (mostly) good kid I am); I etched a little message in the not yet dried cement to all who travel on foot and pass along the path in front of my house: 

Enjoy the Journey

No matter what path you may have chosen to travel down,

these chosen pathways often veer in unexpected directions 
or split into bewildering choices.

Looking back over your shoulder, 
the destination may not be the one you originally sought,

but while you have breath in your breast and a solid foot on the earth 

and yet more pathways before you,

Be mindful

and

Enjoy the Journey

The Fix is In

Relieved to discover that the leaking water line at our curb belongs to the city, I gave the city water department a call Monday morning to report that THEY have a leak.  Of course she said. "We'll have somebody come out and check that."  And so they did - 1 week later.

Over the course of the next several days, various workmen came by to spray paint lines and glyphs in various colors on our grass and sidewalk and stuck little colored flags in our lawn.  All subterranean cables, pipes and valves duly noted. 

Once the city did check out the leaking situation, they called and left a message with a reference number for us to use should we desire any additional information.  Sue called them using the return phone number and reference given, only to be asked, "And what is this in regards to?"  
   "Well, based on the reference number, I assumed you had on record that this is a water leak."
   "Did you need some one to come out there?"
   "I don't think so - since we just receive a phone message with this reference number."
   "Before they can do any work, they will have to identify and flag any utilities in the area."
   "That has already been done.  We were wondering when the repair work will be scheduled and whether we will be without water for a little while?"
   "That schedule would be up to the foreman."
   "Has this job (see reference number provided) been scheduled?"
   "No. I don' think so.  May next week?"
   "OK, thanks".

Out on my morning constitutional, I ran into Mr. Toner.  He lives on the corner lot on the other side of the block, but he has the storm drain for our street in front of his house.  I ask, Jim, what are you doing out so early?  Without missing a beat, he gruffly answers (with an implied wink); I'm trying to find out who's damn water is running down my gutter and making this mess.  I tell him gladly, that this damn mess is 'City of Garland water'.  He tells me I am lucky [don't I know it], when he had a water leak in his front yard, it cost him $1,700 to fix it.  I said, nope, not me. This is city water, the city's problem.

One morning before going to work, Sue saw a lone city employee standing on our curb.  She opened the door and asked if today was the day the leak was going to be repaired?  Well, he was expecting to meet a crew here, but I guess they are not going to show.  I'll have to see when we will take on this job.  Have good day.

But wait.  You and your crew will be here someday soon, right?

Yes mam. The fix is in.





   

Oh That Bogged Down, Sinking Feeling

We've all been there.  Maybe more often than we care to admit.  You know, when you get that flash of a thought, "I should take care of that - before it gets worse", right?  Then, you have that regretful conversation a little later, hopefully with only yourself, when you say, "Self: You dunderhead! Why didn't you take care of that when you first thought of it?"  Ah, but painfully and a touch too often the conversation includes someone else (like maybe your wife).  The 'someone else' shakes their head metaphorically once that little ignored hint of trouble becomes a worse problem that demands attention NOW. That's when the conversation ends with an implied, "I told you so".

I joined AARP thinking maybe we could get a break on lodging when we travel, a discount on Denny's Grand Slam B'fast and perhaps some insight on health insurance.  As a result of my AARP membership I was having just such a conversation with myself, all brought on by a one of those numerous pieces of 'junk mail' that arrive oh so frequently.  As a targeted member of AARP, I was offered a chance to get coverage for repair and replacement for any portion of my water and sewer line between the exterior wall of my house and the city's connection.  I looked over the junk mail offer and thought, "Self: you live in an area with extremely notorious swelling and contracting soil.  As a geologist, you know better than most that this soil can and will wreak havoc on your plumbing and foundation. Self, you know several of your neighbors have already had expensive exterior plumbing repair work, it could happen even to you.  Self, I think you should get this coverage."

That was back in the summer that me, myself and I had that little conversation betwixt us. But I stacked that piece of junk mail that piqued my concern in a pile on my desk with an affirming nod, "You know, you should keep that and think about taking care of yourself for what seems inevitable."  So there it sat, getting further buried with each passing on postman.

Of course, as the wife goes out to get the mail, mostly junk mail from AARP, she mentions to me in early February; "Hey, have you noticed that pool of water by our water meter box?"  Yeah, I did.  I was half expecting that to show up some day.  "Hey, did you ever go and get that water line leak coverage you mentioned awhile back?" [crickets]

A growing tide of unease as water bubbles up around our water meter box.
We begin to host many robins who enjoy the bathing and earthworms forced to the surface.

Each succeeding day, the pool of water gets a bit more expansive.  I go and look for that junk mail flier that I think must still be under one of those paper piles on my desk.  I read the cover letter to me, as a "Dear AARP Member"; it says that my coverage will begin 30 days after approval of my application.  Now, I have that sinking, bogged down feeling that I should have acted months ago, but I didn't.  So, maybe, the water leak is slow enough that I can wait out my 30 day probationary period and then get it fixed.  Oh I hope-I hope-I hope. 

The tide rises perceptibly across our front walk.  The robins are loving this.  They are now always in our boggy front yard bathing and eating the earthworms that are forced up by the sodden sod.  For the robins, 'The Corley Drive Birdbath' is the watering hole to meet, greet and eat.

Is it a leak on my side OR on the city's side of the meter connection.  If it is between the street and the meter, the city has to fix it at their expense. The wife say, "What are the odds it is going to be the city's problem?"  I tentatively suggest 50/50?  She looks at me sympathetically.

Finally I just gotta know.  On Sunday morning, I get down on my knees and baptize my two good hands by immersion.  I bail out the meter box, shut off the valve to the house and watch and listen.  I see a slow gurgling and a flow of water filling the iron box.  Oh hallelujah! It does appear the leak is between our meter and the water main in the street.  I feel as if I had just walked through the parted Red Sea on dry land with Moses and the Children of Israel.  Pharaoh's army and our destruction has been cut off by the waters of the Red Sea, I am delivered.  And since I am already on my knees, I give thanks to the Lord no less fervently than did Noah when he left the ark and stepped onto dry land.

Water, water everywhere; but not a drop on my dime - I think.

The New Year- The Same Thing, Only Different

2017.

The New Year.

It is the same thing, only different.

It has been the same thing for, I don't know how many years.  We join up with our friends the McCords out at their place in East Texas, west of Palestine (In Texas that is pronounced (pal-ah-STEEN). Palestine, Texas long pre-dated Mel Brooks movie, Young Frankenstein (that is Fran-en-STEEN).  Anyway, all of our kids were young 'uns back when we began this tradition, now some are married and most are no longer coming to ring in the New Year with their parents.  So, we gather in the "bunk house" several days after Christmas and a few days before New Years and cook and drink and eat and talk like we have always done before, only without the kids to manage, so it is the same thing - only different.

Sue and Brenda are stationed around the kitchen island
always a tine to catch up and exchange what is new in all of our lives

Nobody strays far from the kitchen, at least for very long.  Plenty of snacks and conversational tidbits to chew on while one of the guests is preparing the next meal.

Brenda & Sue take on the challenge of a new jigsaw puzzle.
The ladies always have plenty to puzzle over into the night.

Kirby brings a glass of port - it is part of the puzzle-solving tradition

The "kids" (now in their mid-20's) play the latest parlor game
around the dining table

The Rices arrive and we are glad to see them, since they always bring interesting wines and Mark R. is a master of the barbecue.  This dinner time he draws out the long knives and cuts a brisket into sumptuous servings 

A red with a good nose.  Let's eat!

Mark & Kathy both have that "look in the eyes"
as they are about to serve something really fine.

Grab your grub and take a seat.  Let the good tastes roll!

It is New Year's Eve, and that means it is time to light some Chinese imports on fire.  The fireworks display under the oak trees goes on for about an hour before we get to midnight.

Great Gobs of Goodies!
We may be getting low (not) on sweets -
Sarah and Brianna set to baking some more cookies.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Christmas 2016

A few Christmas photos:

Tree set up the night before St. Nick arrives

The stuffings of an artichoke pillow

Found a gift from the 1970's
Grant sends us a Pet Rock (On it's leash)

Sue styling a microwave tea cozy

Recipes for cheese soree

A Tree for Thee

Christmas time.  It seems to happen just about every year, whether you want it to come or not.  

This year I was ambivalent about the Holiday Season.  I'd just as soon not give in to making it the big event it is supposed to be.  Nothing against those with dreams of sugar plums dancing in their heads, candy canes, a blizzard of shopping catalogs storming my mailbox, the expectations of the 'perfect gift' and stockings hung with care or even Jack Frost nipping in the air; I just wasn't feeling it as the current vernacular goes.  It was going to be a low-key event around here anyway, no visitors, no family and no parties on the calendar.  Let us wish the new born Savior our best and leave it at that.  So, I suggest to my wife, "How about we just skip Christmas this year?"  She says, No, I want Christmas.  Never-the-less, I don't intend to make a big deal for Christmas.

I do put out some Christmas lights in front of the house.  It seems like a cheerful little gesture and brightens the neighborhood with a little effort on my part, no harm there.  Well into the short days of December, to the point where it may be too late, my wife says, "We should go cut a tree."  I remind her that this is the time when Kadee Christmas Tree Farm (60 miles east) closes for the season, you'd better call first.  She uses her phone and they tell her they were going to shut down last weekend, but they decided to stay open this very Saturday until 4 PM.  That gave us about 3 hours to get her Christmas Tree selected.  We peeled out of the driveway and drove east to the verge of Texas' Piney Woods to hunt for a tree in the tradition of Sunesons for over 20 years.

Those inflatable lawn ornaments - so 2016 - are all the rage, and are found proliferating on lawns all around our subdivision, were even found at the venerable Kadee Christmas Tree Farm.  

We grab a saw and a tree tag and we are off on the hunt

 A cold front was supposed to arrive in the late afternoon, but it was in the 70's (as so often is the case in a Texas tree-hunting December)

With bow saw in hand, we go to wander the back acreage where rows of Virginia Pines are grow and awaiting harvest.

Victory for Lumber Jill

A 6-footer fits into the back of the vehicle for the trip home

It used to be that around Christmas time and especially on the hour drive into East Texas, we would encounter other cars with a fresh cut tree tied to the top on their way home with the evergreen element for the holiday living room.  I have not seen a family car with a tree tied on top in several years. Also, it used to be that we would have 'Christmas Tree Lots' spring up in December in the far reaches of the mall parking lots, with fir and pine and spruce imported from Oregon, Colorado and states where real trees grow green and aromatic.  Alas, has it all become plastic and artificial.  So it has come to artificial, plastic Christmas trees?  What is next, artificial and plastic Jesus?

So despite my wish to skip Christmas, we ended up with a real live Christmas tree.  

As is family tradition, we stop on our way home to get barbecue.  But even the smoked ribs and brisket at Big Daddy's BBQ did not taste as good as years past.  Is it just me, or is BBQ becoming plasticesque as well?

Merry Christmas! 

Turkey in Wichita Falls (with Tomato Aspic!)

Some people just do things right.  So it is with Bill and Susan, they cook a classic Thanksgiving turkey to perfection.  Some years it works out that we can accept their invitation to gather at their table with family and food, and so it came to pass this third Thursday in November, 2016.  Mighty glad to join up with Sue's brother Bill and wife Susan along with oldest daughter Sarah, her two daughters Sydney and Sage plus her husband Rick.

Sue's job was to bring up the revered Cook Family Thanksgiving "treat", tomato aspic.  For those not familiar with the tradition, it is essentially a tomato jello matrix with black olives and celery thrown into the mix.  Bill eats it. Sue eats it. And I eat it.  All others spurn tradition and the savory gelatin.  Some family discord is to be expected at the Thanksgiving table from what I hear from 'Dear Abby".

Bill take the Thanksgiving turkey out of the oven at just the right moment

Bill & Susan in the kitchen for final preparations

Sue, having made the tomato aspic has done her duty.
Now she sits on the bench awaiting for a call to service

Sage waiting to taste a roasted turkey skin

Carving the bird

The feast begins!
Sage goes for a piece of crispy turkey skin

Susan lays down the scrumptious sides for the feast

Sarah has another load of food to place on the table

Is there a place for the mashed potatoes?

Rick & Sarah

Sue comes to the table when called

We give thanks

All is Broken (Chapter 1)

The report was not good.

The first report we got in August from a neighbor to our rental property in Arlington, Washington was from a phone call.  She looked us up on the county tax roll and dialed our old landline phone number.  We hardly ever answer that phone anymore.  However, this time, Sue was home for the day and picked up the receiver; "Do you know what is going on on your property?" was the leading question from the other end.  Our neighbor went on to explain/complain about large, rowdy crowds making racket and racing their dirt bikes on our 50 acres through the early morning hours.  She reported gun fire and large bonfires seen blazing through the trees.

We asked our local property manager to go out and take a look around and report back to us.  The report was not good.  By State Landlord/Tenant law, she had to give 48 hour notice before inspecting the place on Saturday in early September.  The tenant conveniently was not home (or just did not answer the door), so no inside inspection.  However, there was a mound of garbage thrown out the back door, many dead vehicles scattered about, rutted mud roads from dirt bike activities, junk, junk, junk and evidence of a nascent cannabis growing operation in the woods.  Also, the resident had invited some relations to set up a squatter's camp in our back 40.  All of this in violation of the lease.  Not to mention the Twitter post of his 17 year old son burning a vehicle on our property.  This is not a good report.

After 9 years as a tenant (8 of those years he was a descent tenant) without a single cent in raised rents, we all agreed it was time for him to move out.  He was given his 20-day notice under the law.

I planned a trip from Texas to Washington to do a lot of clean up and repair work, but I wanted to know what exactly what kind of work I was getting involved in before I made the trip.  The last day for the tenant was Sept. 30 -- he was having problems getting everything load (except perhaps himself).  He was finally gone on October 12 after some not so gentle pressure.  Once the house was empty, our representative could get a look inside.  As expected, a sloppy big mess!  But at least this troublesome tenant was now evicted and the gate locked behind him.  A relief.

We then get a call from our manager on October 14; someone has cut the chained gate that leads up to the house, and smashed out the large plate glass windows in the kitchen and the dining room.  Serious vandalism.  The sheriff is called and a report is taken. We file a report with our insurance, but they rule the damage does not meet our deductible.

We instruct our property manager to go ahead and board up the broken out windows and all the rest of the windows too.

Too Late.  Boarded up rental property following major vandalism of
All windows and many fixtures insied

While we are awaiting all the wooden sheeting to protect the windows and doors, Sue's brother Bob and his wife go by the place to take a look in the morning.  Bob sent us the first set of photos from his cell phone - this is our first look at the place since the 'Trouble in Paradise' started.  It is not good.

Bob and Ann stop by again in the late afternoon, and find that the vandals had returned.  This time they kicked in the sliding glass door in the basement, smashed out the all remaining windows from the inside, throw portable heaters installed to protect the plumbing from freezing through the large family room windows, and break fixtures inside the house.  We now file a second insurance claim, this one is pretty big.

Another call to the sheriff.  Someone waits for 8 1/2 hours for a deputy -- no response from the law.  Just "property crimes" do not matter to county law enforcement is the obvious conclusion.

I decide I can not wait for a report of all the facts.  I go ahead and book a flight to Washington to take care of the situation while on the ground.  But I think, the worst has got to be over at this point.  Right?

Junk pile left by renters

Back side of rental house.
Vandals broke through sliding glass door and
smashed remaining windows from the inside

All is Broken or Destroyed (Chapter 2)

We get another report within 48 hours of evicting our tenant, a once upstanding - now turned sour and rotten, from our rental property.  This is the family house in which Sue was raised along with her 6 brothers and sisters.  The report is not good.  Nearly all of the windows, upstairs and in the daylight basement have been broken out.  I decide I need to get out to Washington, and quickly.  I book a flight from Dallas to Spokane so I can handle this growing disaster from Ground Zero.

I arrange to meet my parents in Spokane.  They will drive their dually pickup truck from their home in Western Montana and meet me at the airport, and we three will travel together to begin repair and clean up work in the now vacant and vandalized rental home.  We hope to repair holes knocked in the plaster walls, clean up all the broken glass, paint all walls and ceilings and replace the kitchen linoleum flooring.

On this October Saturday morning we stop for fuel as we turn off I-5, and it so happens that I notice a deputy sheriff parked at the gas station as well.  I strike up a conversation about the damage done to our property just 3 miles up the road.  He tells me, it is unlikely that the mischief would be repeated.  I explain, No we have been targeted twice.  The vandals have shown up with bolt cutters to cut the chain to gain access to then destroy my property. Quite targeted and intentional.  I ask about the effectiveness of surveillance cameras?  The deputy tells me that even if they had a license plate or good enough quality image to identify the criminals, it would be up to the DA to decide if they would use county funds to prosecute.  I ask, so if I had the photo evidence, what are the chances we could get a conviction from the DA?  I am told, "It's a crap shoot".  I take that to mean, law enforcement does not give a rip about what happens to my property in the country.  The deputy shrugs and ends the conversation.  I think, "To Serve and Protect"? Ha!

We unlock the newly installed combination lock and extra heavy chain around the gate and drive up to begin working to get the place set up for some new and better renters in the future.  Mom sweeps up broken glass.  Dad sets to the very hard work of scraping up the old linoleum kitchen tiles.  I get started of patching walls and painting.  The hard work continues for 7-9 hours each day.

Mom paints the kitchen

Dad sands down the family room windows before repainting by Inga

Dad & Sean do a lot of hard work to remove kitchen tiles

Mom adds new paint to the Master Bedroom

Daughter Inga and her boyfriend Sean drive the 5 hours north up from Portland, OR to lend a much appreciated hand for a day and a half.  Brother-in-Law Bob comes by to bring a pizza for our lunch and promised to return on Wednesday with his 1 ton truck to haul off garbage.

Inga cleans up the basement and a pile of used hypodermic needles left on the floor.  Drug use proof positive. The basement had been crudely rewired to set up a "grow operation", including faulty wiring and holes cut through the exterior siding into the basement to run tubes to support the weed growing efforts.  Lots of damage everywhere I look.

Bob, Sean and I load up two loads of household garbage just thrown out the back door and piled up there.  At the county dump, the two loads total an even 2,000 pounds - yes that is 1 ton of trash!  We end up disturbing a family of about 4 large Norwegian rats live at the bootmo f the garbage. EEEEK!

Bob delivers pizza for lunch!

My father, after several days of hard work, offers his free advice: "Lock the door, go into town and find a real estate agent and list the property for sale. Now."   I listen, but I am not at all convinced.  Where he sees only liability and hard work, I see assets of a forested 50 acres with a nice creek running through it and a sweet landing place for our dreams of a retirement home.  Land north of Seattle is not getting any less expensive as the months go by either.  A solid investment at the very least.

After 8 days on the job, we partially settle up with insurance adjuster for the damaged windows and fixtures.  We lock the gate behind us as we drive back to Spokane, where I will catch a plane back to Dallas.  I have a long list.  It is a list of just about everything, since everything is damaged or broken.  Me and the wife need to prioritize how we will tackle the numerous projects needed to return the house to a rental state and a revenue stream to cover taxes and mortgage before we end up there as blissful retirees. 

Lots of hard work and expenses ahead of us I know, but at least we have turned the corner on this nightmare of a disaster.  Right?