A Short Post About a Long Dog

R.I.P., Oscar Mayer.
We lost our older boy on October 22, 2015 to bladder cancer; to all outward appearances, the little guy was otherwise in great shape.  His numbers were excellent.
Of course, he was quite blind and deaf, but still managed to come when whistled for and he could still navigate his way around the house, because we never moved anything.
On that morning, I took him and his brother, Q-dog, outside for the usual taking care of business.
Oscar walked around, as usual, and finally squatted to urinate.  Then he arched his back in great effort to pass urine.  Not a drop.
I called the vet from the yard, and they said to bring him right in; I did.
The DVM inserted a catheter which drained quite a bit of urine, increasing Oscar's comfort.  DVM wanted to do a scan, and I told him 'fine'.
He suggested that I go home, and he would call later, as he had a surgery scheduled for right then.
The rest is kind of a blur, but I remember picking up Roo and driving to the vet's office when she got off work.
DVM had the printouts of the scan, and they showed a pediculated tumor taking up almost all of poor Oscar's bladder.  It would fall over the outlet, and no urine could pass.
We cried and decided that the best thing to do was to let him go.  He looked so healthy and alert, given his age, and he was looking around.
We waited until Oscar was gone, and then sadly drove home.
Tammy handled it much better than I did.  She said, "He thought we were coming to take him home."
That remark has haunted me since.  I feel even worse when viewing things from that perspective.
Also, Oscar, in his Mom's arms, started to lick her face; he NEVER licked anybody!  Was he begging to go home, or was he after the tears pouring from her eyes?  I'll never know and never forget, either.
Did he just want a drink?  Did I miss that?  Should I have given him some water?
The experience is still heavy on my mind, and today is the first day I can write about it.  I know it's a poor job, but it's all I can do.
 We received his ashes a few days  later; in a beautiful wooden box bearing his name inscribed on a brass plate on the front.  It sits on the shelf in our bedroom where I can, and do, pat it several times each day in his memory.
He lived with us for over eighteen and one-half years and I miss him so much.

Clean up...

Long time.
Life goes on, though.
This morning, I took Tammy to the airport for her flight to Las Vegas; she goes there for her hair treatments, as it is the only place on the planet we know can handle the job.  We've checked around here, as well as Seattle, but without success.
It's really getting to get worse, if that were possible; the idea of living here because of the leeches who have been taking our retirement money for the last 11 years.
I can't write anymore.

Fuck the Chinese???

We awoke this morning to the news of a 1,000 point drop on the stock exchange in the FIRST TEN MINUTES OF TRADING!!!
The news is blaming the Chinese's screwing around with their economy and the value of the yuan.  We shall see.
The trend did correct somewhat during the day, but we're still down $15,000 over the last couple weeks.
It is a very stark reminder that we truly do need the money  that her son and his fat assed girlfriend/fat assed wife have been mooching off us for almost 11 years.
I told SWMBO years ago, that we should just get the money from the house, and put it into silver, and keep the cash from sale in a coffee can under the bed or in a nice solid floor safe.  How different things would be today, and that's obvious from reading prior rants/postings in this blog.
SWMBO and I spent the last couple of days assembling the shed in the back yard, and it looks OK!  It is wonderful working with her, and she tries so hard, even though she's the equivalent of a 90-pound weakling!  I lover her.
Hopefully, tomorrow I can get some rafters installed, and head down the track to the finish line; maybe get the garage cleaned out--finally!

This Stuff Keeps Me Awake...

The litany of what has happened in  my lousy life continues to haunt me, this after so many years of it spinning through my head 24/7.
It started in Nevada, and just grew larger and larger as it became so clear to me that my long-awaited retirement was ruined and that the rest of my life was destroyed.  The last few years working those 12-hour days were so very, very hard on me; physically and mentally. 
Knowing that there was so little to look forward to after 50+ years of working just made it so hard to keep my mouth shut (I don't get in trouble when I keep my mouth shut), and to realize, again and again, constantly, that I had been betrayed beyond belief.
 I deserve so much better, and so does Tammy.  We were both shafted; she is much more accepting of it than I have been able to accomplish.
As I've said before, the whole plan to retire rested on a single seminal event: the sale of the house in Mead.  It would have yielded enough to put the plan into action.  In my estimation, we would have had at least $150,000 to put to work. 
Since the only thing we have known for investments is silver, that is where the money would have gone; silver was, at that time, selling at $7 per ounce.
After buying that, we would have had 21,478 ounces of silver, and could have held it until such time that we wanted to sell it.  When would that be?  Well, that's an open question, of course, but at the time there was lots of talk from Nokia, Samsung, LG, Vizio, RCA, who were in the markets developing something called HDTV, High Density Television, a very big deal.
Then, there was this other company called Apple; they weren't into TV sets, but did have lots of ideas about things like Ipads, Ipods, Minis, and something revolutionary called a Smartphone.
What do all these companies have in common, you ask?  Well, they all need the mineral called SILVER!  Apple, itself, makes Smartphones at a hectic pace, and all the other companies decided to jump on the bandwagon.
As could be seen by anyone who wanted to look, the price of silver HAD to increase, and IT DID!
In 2011, the price bumped $50 per ounce as companies scrambled to catch Apple's accomplishments, and they still haven't really caught up, not even to this day.
Even if the amount we had were to have been sold for only $48, our $150,000 stake would have gone to $1,025,871, reasonable amount warranted by closely watching and simply reading with a purpose.
There would have been much more that the $150K, as my earnings were much greater than they had been while living in Washington; but, that's another story, which will become evident as this unfolds.
To this figure a few lines above, one should add about $200,000, an understated figure representing the amount of retirement money burned through by her son and his fat assed girlfriend/fat assed wife over the course of the last ten years.  That's what has become evident as this unfolds.
Then, continuing the exercise, add to the $1,025,871 the $200,000, bringing the total to a whopping $1,225,871.
Going further, combining that figure with $245,000,  which happens to be the approximate amount to be found today in the singe Fidelity account, the total we should have today is $1,470,871.
Nearly a million and a half dollars; money in such an amount that she could have moved back to Mead if she wanted to.  She could have bought any house she wanted here, and the best part is that she would still be a millionaire!
As an added bonus, she wouldn't have had to go back to work, (I presume she would want to spend time with me, like I worked so hard for?), and we could have gone and done whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted to.
In addition, she could be spending a good amount of her time bonding with her son's baby instead of leaving that task she would have enjoyed to fat asses mother and grandmother.
The end result, and it is somewhat apparent right now, is that the kid is bonding to the other two and has no idea who Tammy is!
He aced his own mother out of time with the baby!
After all the time, money, effort and love she gave him so unselfishly over the course of his life.
Another one of the things that really chaps my ass is the sale of MY CAR, a car I liked and enjoyed, a Mercedes.  He sold it while we were living in Nevada for $2700, and put the money from the sale into his own bank account; Tammy said that he would be putting it into our account later.  Well, long story short: he took the money and ran.  I watched our bank account for over a year, and the money never arrived.
Another screw job.
This account is why I merely tolerate the two of them; for Tammy's benefit and for no one else's.
If I never saw either of them again, I wouldn't care.  In fact, I would prefer it.

You may ask, "Where did all the money go?" 
Well, of course, it went to pay all their expenses while they banked all that they were making!
According to Tammy, all they paid for over seven years was 'gas and food'.  WOW!  I'd love to spend someone else's money for seven years!  Except that I couldn't bring myself to do it.
So, where did the $$$ go?
Let's count the ways:

Picture, if you will, dirt.
A building lot.
A "For Sale" sign on the dirt.
Next, picture a custom-built house, done to your specifications.  It has a 3-car garage and seamless gutters, too.
Now, imagine a state of the art $prinkler system; now add some fill dirt; now add $od at $0.21 per foot.
A nice touch would be to increase a concrete patio by about 400%, and a concrete pod in the corner of the back yard holding a factory built yard and garden $hed, not one partially built from used lumber purloined from a construction site during the winter.
Now, put a nice cedar fence around the whole property and stain it, too.  Then, add landscaping with beauty bark and shrubs and bushes.
Consider firearms:  "If you want a pistol, take the money out of savings; there's plenty of money in savings".  "Do you want a shot gun, well, you know where the savings are".  "If you think we need an AR-15, just take the money out of savings".
Of course, he 'needed' a new pickup, too.  Had to be a Ford.  Now, we're not talking about an F-150 like everyone else drives; oh, no!  His had to be a Ford Lariat model; had to have four wheel drive, all leather interior, lumbar supports and heated seats.  Wouldn't want his ass getting cold!
Let's not forget another big purchase:  They get CENTRAL AIR CONDITIONING!!!   We can't afford it, because he fucked us over, but he can because they were, and continue to be, on welfare.
Following that, the little bastard had the balls to drive into my neighborhood, down my street, park blocking my drive way  in front of my house to rub our noses in a $35,000 classic sports car!  His cow says, "If he hadn't bought it, I was going to take the money out of savings and get it for him, because I knew how much he wanted it".  The ol' savings thing again.  How fucking nice!
A few weeks later, Tammy called and asked if they wanted to go to lunch, a frequent thing she does.  (Did I mention, he NEVER picks up a check?)
 Well, they couldn't go because 'they have a guy'.  Yeah, a guy who is coming over to give them a bid on remodeling their basement with a few rooms and a movie theater!
It just keeps getting better, doesn't it?
Yes, still.
In ten years, he hasn't paid even 1/2 the rent of the post office box he insists on using, hasn't paid a nickel on his  cell phone bill, even though he uses his (including texting) ten times more than the rest of us combined.  None of the rest of us have texting, because it's too expensive.
But, the worse goddamn thing is learning a few years ago that the Chase account into which my paltry Social Security check is deposited has been hit for several thousand dollars to pay student loans that, of course, we don't owe.  Several years ago, we got fined, back taxed and penaltied by the IRS for paying them and claiming the interest we had paid on our tax return.  We agreed then that we would stop paying them.  Think of the thousands and thousands of dollars that have been wasted over the years for debts that don't belong to us.
When I wanted to retire at 65, Tammy insisted that I work until 66, because we needed the extra $150 per month.  So, I worked another 15 months, even though it nearly killed me.  Now, the amount of the student loans just happens to be $150/month.

Too long, again...

Another eleven days past, and I haven't been keeping up with my idea that these entries should be daily, and at least entered for about 30 minutes.  Damn.
But, like so many things, that mission has been aborted in favor of  the rage that continues to increase and take over my life, my entire existence.
The other day, I looked up a sample of the houses available for sale in Mead.  Depressing.  All those houses, beautiful, roomy, NICE!  We could have had any of them had this house sold ten years ago, and her son and his fat-assed girlfriend/fat-assed wife didn't come through as promised.  Waited for years for them to move on it, they said they were working on it, and THEY WERE LYING!!!
Fuck 'em!!!
Anyway, it make it very hard to write when I'm running the numbers and itemizing all the shit they have that I paid for!
I give up!

My Mind Recalls...

6-15-2015

The other day, at the local Wal-Mart, I again experienced one of life's truly frantic situations.  We had just left a very satisfying lunch at the Taco Bell, (don't get ahead of me here!), and as bad luck would have it, the Mexican quisene seemed to be forcing a certain, uh, evacuative activity in the lower rear echelons of my body. 
I excused myself from SWMBO, and made a beeline to the men's room at the front of the store; as sometimes happens, it was a VERY close call.
Let's say it was "clench and pray" time!
This time, as usual, I made it with just a bit of time to spare.
Luck has not always been with me, however.
We were living in Las Vegas, NV at the time in question.
First off, I need to apologize to an unamed cleaning person in Las Vegas; his name is unknown, but he will recognize himself when and if he reads this.
If memory serves, we had also just partaken of a meal at the restaurant on the same parking lot; but, this was before 'the problem' became chronic, or even urgent. That day was a first, a seminal moment, if you will.
Anyway, as it comes back, it seems that we were in the garden area, when the urgency seemed to make itself clearly known.  I was closest to the back of the store, so hied myself back to the restrooms located in that area.  As the wide doors came into view, I could see that there was an "Closed for Cleaning" sign on the men's room!
Well, I can PROBABLY make it to the one in front, right?
So, the ten mile trip to the front of the store began, as the pressure started to build really seriously, now.  It's hard to walk so far with your butt cheeks clenched when internal forces are fighting your every muscle, even in light of frantic mental prayers went up with increasing urgency.  "Please, God...". 
It's really hard to look cool, too.
Anyway, there was no sign or cleaning cart at the oasis in the front of the store, so my spirits soared, even as my consciousness seemed to be fading, and my head started to swim and I broke into a very serious hard sweat.
I tried to walk around the corner into the bathroom as calmly and as sophisticated as I could, but once in, it was an undignified sprint to the empty stall; they were all empty, so there was no concern about offending anyone else in the can.
HALLELUJAH!
I ran in and slammed the door, locking it with one smooth fluid motion.
Have you ever had to 'go' so badly that you actually found yourself dancing as you tried frantically to loosen your belt, unsnap the jeans and lower the zipper?  Hopping from foot to foot?
Well, I did, and things were beginning to REALLY get out of control.  IT WAS TIME!!!
Quickly, the belt flew open, the snap was undone, and the zipper flew toward the earth at breakneck speed, as did my jeans and underware with them!  In one undignified move, I was cleared of clothing and bent over like in a gym class exercise routine. 
EVERYTHING CUT LOOSE as I lowered myself to the seat at breakneck speed; it all happened in less than a millisecond, if I recall correctly.
What a relief.
As the noise and foul discharge finally came to an end, I took a deep breath, wiped the sweat from my brow, relaxed and tried to compose myself; it would be necessary to leave soon.  And I was up for that!
First order of business was to check my underwear; it looked good; no mess to be embarrassed about!  No need to worry about the back of my jeans attracting undue attention while I sought out SWMBO.  After all, I had grey hair, and didn't want to give anyone a chance to pity my appearance: "Poor old man, Gina; look at the poor bugger.  Hope he gets home OK."
So, after finishing up the paperwork, I stood and snuck a peek into the porcelain bowl.
What the heck?
It contained only the soiled paper!
Then, slowly I lifted my gaze a bit in realization, and saw why the bowl would not need to be cleaned:  the discharge had never made it that far.  Remember the 'bent over me'?
That's the point in time that the dam burst, if you will.
The wall behind the toilet, from about three feet up the wall to the back of the seat, bore an unbroken  line of waste about four inches wide descending to the porcelain just inside the back of the bowl.
Sadly, the sensor in the wall, you know the one that tells the stall to flush because you're leaving when you move away from the throne?  Well, that was pretty much deeply buried,  so the thing couldn't flush and the whole sorry display had to await entry of  the next poor bastard assigned to clean the restroom at Wal Mart.
It would be true kismet if he was the same guy who put up the "Closed for Cleaning" sign in the back of the store.  Serves him right.
 It was about three years before I could tell SWMBO the story, and I thought she would bust a gut laughing about it.  In retrospect, it was funny; funny to me at the time, and enjoyed by SWMBO years later.
Now, when I have to leave her in Wal Mart, she always asks if I'm going to make it, and when I return, she says, "Well, you clean?"
Sure do love her...

It's the Weekend, again

6-13-2015
The slowest moving week in memory is coming to a close.  The distance from last weekend seems to be a month long, and I'm glad it's here.  SWMBO was getting really tired, and now that she has a couple of days off, it can only lead to good.
Right now, she's down about a mile away babysitting at the custom-built home with the three car garage and the seamless gutters, et. al..  How nice.
Seem that the Entitleds feel the need for another movie.  How fucking nice.
Anyway, the boys and I are spending time in the yard, peeing, pooping and chasing balls.  They seem to like it.  The sprinkler is coming around, though, so time to stay in for now.
The lost receipt from O'C arrived to day, too.  Now SWMBO is happy again!  She needs that paperwork or she gets overly nervous.
I'd like to go out to the garage and restart some pens, but my wind is still not 100%, and with all the stuff that flies around and the acrylic odors, it's best not to go, yet.  Darn.  I miss it and would like to pour some more blanks.  Health first, though.
I was able to get the grass cut yesterday, and tried to get it trimmed this AM before the sun got too high, but the battery dies, as the trimming is left after three cuttings.  It's all charged, now, but the temp is just to high to even think about it.  The amount I got done looks very nice, but the rest will have to wait, maybe until tomorrow.
I saw  a video earlier about photography.  It was about creating a black background, even in daylight.  Use sync-speed, low ISO, and try about f11, or f16.  That creates the blackness; now use a contained flash (floppy umbrella, for example) for creating a soft flash on you subject.  Good with portraits.  Brian Peterson also has a chapter about this very thing, as does Kelby.
My condition has really improved since meeting with O'C.  I feel nearly 100% better, though there is still a way to go to complete recovery; it's encouraging.
Anyway, there is an atmosphere of quiet, and that feels good, too.

Ramblings...

6-12-2015
IN the last two days, I've had treatment from a real doctor, O'C, and feel so much better for the experience.
He prescribed Augmentin and a MDP, and that is a winning combination for me.  I should have had those drugs five days prior, but the MA just didn't have the experience for confidence to order them, and I was too sick to argue with her.  But all's well...that ends well...
Lots of crazy stuff going on in Spokane the last few days; the head of the local NAACP has been turning in several police reports about hate mail and threatening letters, carrying back to the time that she was working for some civil rights organization in CDA.
Now, the cops in Spokane can't find a perp, as the letters don't have a postmark or bar code.  Curious.  The employees at the Rosewood PO say that if they had seen it, they would have at least cancelled the postage on it, but they doubt that it could have gotten through the postal system without some marks indicating that.  The employees (and the cops, I think) feel that the letter was most probably placed into the box from the door side.  She denies it, though.
Anyway, now the story is all over: Drudge, GMA, London Daily Mail, Spokesman, CDA Press, and the Seattle Times.
To stir the pot even a little more, some reporters went ahead and contacted her parents, and found that the NAACP head is abually WHITE; she obviously uses a bronzer and kinks her hair, but the folks provided lots of growing up photos showing the blue-eyed, blond little gal from Troy, MT. 
Another complication:  when KXLY interviewed her, she just took off running when asked if she is really AA!  Even left her purse and car keys behind with the reporter and the cameraman had to chase her down to return them!  HA!
Today is Friday; it's about time.  We were talking about how long the week has been; perhaps it's been the illness, but the time has dragged like never before, and it's good to see the end of the week coming.
SWMBO says that she wants to go take care of her grandkid tomorrow again, so I'll be alone again.  I wanted to go tot he buffalo farm with Grace, but that's out now; since Grace's father is back, we can't really take the chance that he might want to go, too.  So, the loss is minimal, I guess.
The doctor's office dropped the receipt I left there yesterday into the mail, so it should be here tomorrow, I'm guessing. 
We have new neighbors moving in today; the LeGrew(s)(?).  He's Cameron and she's Amy.  They have two kids and he works at Les Schwab on Francis, and she works at Schweitzer Optical in the Valley somewhere.
Amy says that the kids may have to be bussed to school!  WTF???
Seems that there are no openings at Meadowview!  Go figure.
Finally go the lawn cut today; it was long, and still needs the trimming, but I can get that tomorrow. 
When SWMBO goes to work, there is a very nice yellow daffodil bush in the parking lot; I must remember to take my camera and get some shots.
So, is photography starting to stir again.  Dunno.

Another day...

Well, my approaching death seems to be slowing a bit; I feel somewhat better, but still suffer from uncontrollable cough, hacking and sore throat.I wonder what the X-ray from yesterday had to say, as the assurance from O'C's office was that they would call me yesterday afternoon; but, they haven't yet.  Sue did call about my appointment for tomorrow, though.  I'll talk to a real doctor then.
The plan for today was to get back from Deer Park by about 8:30AM in order for Caleb to evaluate the darned door problem.  The blinds get stuck about 1/3 of the way up and the lever seems to disengage, falling to the bottom of the track.
He showed up at about 9:30 (no problem; he called at 8:15AM) and agreed that there was something wrong with the mechanism; he suggested replacing the one panel, a remedy that sounds just fine.
SWMBO is feeling chest pains today; she thinks it's gastric (thank goodness) as it is somewhat relieved with antacids.  Since it started just today, she's probably right.
It was surprising to see Shanna Love at Fred Meyer's today; my name came flying across the parking lot as I was leaving the store with the day's victuals.  She retired in 2006, and now she and Don have their inventory business on the side, and that's it.  She was getting stuff for her granddaughter's sports meet later today.
She also told me that Thayne Whitehead had passed away recently; it had been in the paper the other day.  He was an old Spokane pharmacist, and a really nice fella.  He sold the People's Rx chain to Rick Fike several years ago, the chain that became Medicine Shoppe.
When I passed the news on to Dana Fike, she had already heard the news from Cindy Grimes yesterday.
When taking the dogs out earlier, it occurred to me that the grass, while getting longer, was in need of some hydration; so, Quin and I went into the back yard and started the sprinklers while he got his exercise with his blue ball.
I watched Grace yesterday; she left school early and had to come her to rest and have a little bit of snack before we went to get SWMBO; we met Toehead and had a quick dinner at Wendy's.  Grace was pretty much recovered, and seemed to be healthy enough to go back to school this morning.
Speaking of morning, the usual quiet was shattered by seven sirens over a ten minute period headed north on US 2.
Seems that there had been a shooting somewhere north in Colbert, quite close to Grace's school.  Some woman had put a bullet into her stepfather, and was chased down by the cops and arrested for attempted 1st degree murder.  Lousy was to start the day!
It's going on noon, so, it's time to scramble for lunch.

UPDATE:  O'C's office called and said that the CXR from yesterday was normal.  HA!  Then perhaps her Dx is off.  Could she have missed something?  We'll see.  

Al Bundy is my hero

In case you didn't know, several years ago, Fox network came into being.
Their show line up consisted of news, and a few cutting-edge shows, as I recall.
One of them was "Married With Children", the lead character being Al Bundy, a forlorn salesman of women's shoes.
Nothing ever went right for Al, and he never had enough money, his wife and kids spending it faster than he could make it.
One of the things that I remember about Al Bundy was his view of the world; when asked something for which he didn't care, he'd answer, "Don't know, don't care".  It was a throw away phrase that served him well.
I find myself using that line more and more, as I really don't give a shit about hardly anything anymore.
Retirement ruined, the rest of my life in shambles, unable to help my wife who had to go back to work so that her son and his fatassed wife can have more than we can.
Her job has been such a fuck up for several months.  Her supervisor, who lies with negroes, has been making her life miserable so that nigger lover can appoint one of her favorite suck ups to the lead position, the job for which my wife was hired.
Fortunately, the wife got a new job the other day, in another branch of the same company, and now I can hopefully get some sleep, money rage notwithstanding.
The new clinic is twice the distance, but can be reached by highway instead of driving through town and having schools, pedestrians and stop lights get in the way.
So, hopefully, it will be a good move overall.

Sick, again...

Hell.
I've been laid low for almost two weeks now with what has been diagnosed as "bronchitis" by a gal who really must be new out of MA school.  She's just to timid to work up a real treatment plan that would get me better.
In the past, I saw my doctor for this problem and was prescribed a course of antibiotics, a dose-pack and an expectorant, perhaps, depending.
This time, little Miss Timid is scared to order the dose-pack (a true miracle drug), because of my diltiazem.  Seems that the diltiazem may increase the level of the steroid, which might effect my warfarin.  SO WHAT???  I can fix that.  Just decrease the warfarin for a few days and all is well in the world.  It's really no big deal.  Miss Timid had better get cracking or she's going to spend her professional career as a slave to theoretical considerations.  Maybe with experience, who knows?  In the mean, here I sit coughing like a 1939 Packard on cheap gas.
Anyhoo, I called and asked that she order a chext X-ray for me, as I feel that there is more going on than she anticipated.  She'll call back.  I hope.
She actually had the 'interaction' between the diltiazem and steroid backward, insisting that the diltiazem would be impaired.  Wrong.  When asked for an explanation how that worked, she just answered, "That's just what it does".  Amateur!
Compounding the problem, SWMBO is not getting any decent sleep, either.  It really makes me sad, because, even though I offered to sleep downstairs  on the couch, she wouldn't hear of it.  That's her.  Then, she has to get up at 5AM and go to work by 8AM.  I drive her to her work site, but still, she works until 5PM, and it takes a lot out of her.
It hasn't been possible to turn any pens lately; just haven't had any energy, and the temp has gotten into the high 90's, which is pretty hot, even in the shaded garage, so...
There are several kits I'd like to turn and assemble, but it isn't going to happen soon, for sure.
The darned yard continues to grow; that Weed n' Feed treatment is really coming back to bite me in the tookas; can't even think about riding around in all that chaff.
The garden seems to be really exploding!  Cucumbers, strawberries, white onions, beets, carrots, radishes and green onions all coming along very nicely.  It should be a good summer for veggies.
We finally got the new vinyl slider installed on the back deck yesterday; it looks great, and is much smoother than the old aluminum one it replaces.  While there is one adjustment to be made on the slider part curtain raiser, we're pretty happy with it.
Still pissed about living here, though; we deserve much better.

Same company, different day...

Well, a couple days ago, The Roo started a new job; still at the same company, but in the NC Clinic, north of here.  The distance is twice as far as before, but the time involved is about the same, as the trip is all highway.  No need anymore to got through town with all the stops and starts.
Her move to the new clinic is probably a good one; her last job assignment, she was the target of all the crap that happened in the place.  Her supervisor resented the fact that The Roo showed signs of independence and an ability to motivate others to get the job done.  The super delayed the departure to the new site as long as she could; she's a very petty individual, and always tries to make those who escape her domain have to wait as long as possible.
Anyway, The Roo seems to be fitting in quite well; she said that she's even looking forward to going to work!  She hasn't said that for a darned long time.  I'm happy for her.
I started the day with a back ache from hell; I think it's the mattress, but there doesn't seem to be a new one in our future.  We've had two new ones since coming back to Spokane, but neither one has lasted very well.  If only there was some way to try one out for a year or so.

A Memorable Decade I'd Wish on No One

It is well into 2015, and this year marks ten years since moving to Las Vegas in search for something better and something that would increase comfort and wealth in retirement.
Now, here we find ourselves back where we started; retired, but with nothing more than we would have had in the event that we never left Spokane at all.
My real feeling is that I was unfairly exploited to the max.
All those years of 12 hour days, sickness, injuries, near-death experiences, and to come out the other end with nothing to show for it.
I've already written about the betrayal concerning the house and the missed investments and all the money that her son and his fat-assed girlfriend/fat-assed wife burned through.  That last part continues to this very day.
Recently, I've dropped a few comments about student loans, and been indirectly assured that we don't pay those anymore.  But, we do.  That REALLY pisses me off.
You see, I worked an extra year so that my SS payment would be $150/month higher; "...we need it..." is what I was told.
What a coincidence!  The student loan payment is $150/month!  Will wonders ever cease???
A couple months ago, the little bastard brought his latest acquisition to rub our noses in: a classic Porsche he's gotten, because "...he wanted it...".
THAT FUCKING CAR COST OVER $30,000!!!  HOW LONG DID I HAVE TO WORK TO EARN THAT KIND OF MONEY FOR HIM TO WASTE???
His fat-assed wife said at the time, "If he hadn't bought it, I was just going to take the money out of savings and get it for him.  I know how much he wanted it."
Ain't that nice???  Must be a good feeling to know that you have saved your earnings because you were able to burn through someone else's money, even their retirement money.  Without a single twinge of conscience.  Couple of assholes!
Then, a week or two ago, they weren't able to come to lunch when his mother invited them, because they had to wait at their custom-built home for some contractor to come over to give them an estimate on remodeling their basement, adding a couple rooms and building in a movie room, too.
Did I mention that those ass holes won't even pick up a check at a restaurant?  Never!  After all, they're entitled.  Neither one of them have ever spent a single day of their lives that someone else hasn't been supporting or subsidizing their miserable existence.

A kid with one pair of pants

How many people can point to a specific time in their life that really defines who they are?
I can.  It has to do with a single pair of pants.
There I was in the dining room of our house doing homework, when I overheard my Mom say to a visitor in the kitchen (I don't remember who), "All through the seventh grade, David had only one pair of pants.  Thank God he never realized it."
From that point forward, I realized that we were poor.
My folks worked hard; harder than most, actually, but never really 'made it'.
Hearing my Mom say those words make me acutely aware of our situation going into the future.
We lived in other people's houses, being renters.  My cousin Jimmy would send hand-me-down clothes to my brother and myself.
Our used cars were not purchased because of their utility; they were cheaper.
Unopened bills were stacked in the end cupboard, and I realized that they were probably not opened so that Mom or Dad could say honestly that they had not seen them.
Darned socks.  Patched clothes.  Shoes bought only when on sale.
I can remember Dad walking to and from work when the car was in need of repairs; it was a good distance, too.
One year, during his vacation, he drove taxi cab.
There were only two memories of family vacations; one to Canada with another family  and  one to Fuse Lake in Montana for camping and fishing.  When we entered Canada, the border folks asked how much money would be spent there.  Our trip mate, Mac, answered '..about $500'.  Dad answered '$200'.  There were four of us and only three of them.
And it all came down to one pair of pants.
During my life, I have always been sensitive, perhaps too much so, about money.  Since I rarely had any growing up, it was impossible for me to fully grasp and understand the VALUE of money, a trait that continues to this day.  Is $20 a lot of money?  I really don't know.  I do know how embarrassing it is to be without it, or not to have enough.
Working for wages, having to fight the State of Washington over child support, and pay lawyers for the same reason, living in poverty was still with us.
But, ten years ago, I could see a way out of it all: I could make 50% more money in Las Vegas, so I moved there.  Not only were wages much higher, my approaching retirement would be increased, and the extra money could go into savings.  This alone justified the move to Nevada.
The sale of the Mead house would be phenomenal; the equity would be tax-free, and with silver selling at only $7, we could make a prime investment that would pay off without risk.
But, the house didn't sell, and all the extra money went to support two bums on welfare, even while they banked all their earnings.  It was necessary, I'm told, because they would move out of the house if we listed it, leaving the house without any protection at all.
Blackmail.
Now, after all those years of working, those decades of being a slave to an alarm clock, I'm still a slave to an alarm clock, as wife has had to go back to work.   Even so, it's turned into a hellhole for her; she has to put up with assholes all day long and brings it all home.  It adds to an intolerable rage and hatred I've had for many years; my stomach is upset all the time, I hate leaving her at work, knowing that they'll try to make things hard for her every fucking day.  It all piles up.
The money we SHOULD have, DESERVE to have, are ENTITLED to went somewhere else.  And he'll NEVER pay it back; he feels entitled to whatever he wants.
A new custom built home, built from the ground up, fill for the yard, nice pre-built shed, sprinkler system, sod, cedar fencing, a custom Ford pickup with leather interior, firearms, and oh, yes, AIR CONDITIONING.
I've wanted air conditioning since we moved back, but we can't afford it, because the little bastard and his fat assed girlfriend/fat assed wife CAN.  Great, huh?
I have a ghetto piece of wood surrounding a portable A/C unit in the window over the kitchen sink.
 Then, a few months ago, he came up with the supreme insult:  he brought a $30,000 sports car over to show us!!  He got it because he wanted it!!
I know where he got the money; I EARNED IT!!!   He spent it!!!
We're back in the same house we left ten years ago because it's the only place we can afford to live.  It's been over seven years since I've had an allowance.  We still have debt.
I worked for over 50 years and wake up to the daily realization that what I see is what I get; this is all things will ever be.  End of story.  End of me.
"You worked all those decades, and this is how it ends up for you."  Fucked!
WE COULD HAVE BEEN MILLIONAIRES LIVING ON TOP OF THE WORLD!
I could have finally beaten the system, escaped, and had success in my life.
But I'll die early, still the kid with one pair of pants.

Confounding days continue...

There was a siren a few minutes ago; it was on Newport Highway, I believe.  Those things never bring good news.
Speaking of good news, I've made a conscious effort to try to look at the bright side of things, but it doesn't take away the sting of what has happened over the last 10 years or so.
As the weather has turned so cold and snowy lately, it comes to mind that there are many people who would give an arm and leg to live where I do: a nice warm house, sheltered from the elements.  Here it's possible to sit with my shoes off and enjoy a large screen TV or surf the net, or prepare a meal.
But it doesn't help much.
The reality is that The Roo's job is turning to shit.  Lately, her supervisor has been on the rag towards The Roo.  Supervisor looks to be trying to set her up in order to demote or discharge her, even though The Roo has been awarded "Employee of The Month" again, her second time.
Tammy is pretty disheartened over all this, and I can understand why; her problems at work, and the unfair treatment she receives is weighting heavily on me, too.  Coupled with my rage, anger, disappointment, unhappiness and general pissedoffedness of the last decade is making my life miserable too.  Even to the point that I can't function during a normal day anymore.
The main thing is that we could have retired as millionaires,  literally, had we done things my way.
Now, I'm stuck here again with NOTHING to show for 7 years of working in the desert but an upside down house in Las Vegas that I can't sell.
I repeat:  I'll die from all this because it was totally avoidable.