Oh deer.....

Today I woke up with a plan.  

I had ordered equipment a little while back and it came in 2 shipments.  The actual equipment, and the laptop that powers it.  I made the mistake of taking the laptop to the office.  I decided once the equipment got here, the two really make more sense together, obviously.  

I figured I would load up the new equipment, cruise on down to Effingham, and spend a few hours setting it up and doing some training.  Perfect, low stress, light work for an overdue gal.  

At about 8 I got a call from Zac saying that the tracking number that has given us no info for days, was active and that one of the computers for the office was going to be delivered today....between 12:30 and 4:30.  My plans were foiled!

I decided to make the best of it, get a few things done around the house.  I have a cabinet I want to move out, which meant finding homes for the stuff in the bottom of it, and the painting of a new cabinet.  I also needed to make room for Cliff's bottles and baby accessories next to all the other cups.  

Ya know, nesting stuff that I kinda like to do.  

I decided I would also make a trip to mom's to use her big washing machine for my comforter and paint said replacement cabinet while it washed.  All was going swimmingly until about 11.  

On my way to mom's five, that's right, FIVE deer ran out of the cornfield and across the road.  

In the middle of the stinking day!

I braked, but there was no swerving. 

The mini-van didn't make it out unscathed. 

It was fully scathed. 

Immediately the engine stopped running.  I lost power steering.

I pulled over into the gravel at a little cemetery right down the road from Annie's house and took a minute to stare unbelievably at my car.  

The engine literally stopped when I hit the deer.  

I was going 38 miles per hour.  I was running at 1000 RPM.  I know because they are frozen.

The electrical system was down for the count.  

I made the mistake of putting the car into park....and then my key wouldn't come out of the ignition.  

Damn the bad luck.  

My poor van...

I called Dad first to find out where he was in the world and see why he thought the engine was acting so crazy.  He was too far away to take a look or give me a tow.  

My next 2 calls were to my insurance agent, and then the police.  

After that I called my sister Annie to tell her I may need a ride.

Then I called Mom to try to keep her from a panic.  Dad had gotten to her first.  Luckily she was not as stirred up as I had expected.  

Annie drove down to check on me and the van.  She asked if she should wait.  I told her to go get her errands done.  No sense in 3 of us waiting instead of just one.  The officer pulled in just as she was heading out, so the timing was good.  He worked on the report.  I called a tow truck.  

Then, finally, called Zac.  His response was, "Oh no!  That sucks.  Sorry about your van.  At least everything is ok."  

He is not one to get mad.  I appreciate that.  

Shortly thereafter the paperwork was done.  I called Mom to see about a ride.  

Unfortunately Penelope had just went to sleep, so I decided to take Office Wood up on his offer and catch a ride with him back to town.  

A couple of notes for you ladies....when you are giant and pregnant, yoga pants, spaghetti strap tanks, and flip flops are very comfortable. 

They are not, however, your best "leaving the house" look.  

Turns out, you may be wearing black pants and a navy tank when a small disaster happens.

Also, should you ever find yourself super pregnant and in need of a ride, a police cruiser has a large computer unit that takes up most of the passenger seat, so you will be riding in the back of the car. 

If you have the presence of mind to remember it, you will also be taking your baby's carseat with you, in preparation for his impending arrival.  

All of these things will make you feel ridiculous....and give you a reputation.

Watch out girls.  Cliff isn't even here yet, and he has already had his first run in with the law.  

He is an irresistable bad boy. 

His mom wears clothes that are too tight for public and assaults animals with large, grey minivans.

We are already quite the pair. 

Zac and I are now down to a 2 door Gran Prix.  We will be riding dirty to the hospital. 

 Turns out dinking up your van around noon on a holiday weekend means nothing will happen until after your baby is born (regardless of if that happens in 1 day, or 7).  Apparently, after working like a man doing renovations, falling off of a porch, and a deer massacre it seems my very stubborn uterus cannot be overworked or startled into contractions.  

We will see if the storms and moon do it.  

I expect not...but just in case, I will be sleeping on one of the puppy training pads I bought in case my water breaks in the night.  I plan ahead...except for when it comes to deer. 

Renting

I am a landlord.  For everyone out there that ever considered renting, thought it would be a great way to make some extra cash, don't.  Just don't.  It is so odd and disappointing.  It's disappointing because you try hard.  If you've ever dealt with a landlord that was a bit of a jerk....this is why.

 Zac and I renovated Trailer #47 not even 3 years ago.  We re-carpeted, put wood flooring in the kitchen and entry way so the carpet inside the front door wouldn't get ruined.  We gutted the bathroom to the floor joists and started over, new wood floor, toilet, vanity, tub and surround.  We repainted the entire thing and I even hung curtains to make it nicer.
We lived in it, it was a nice home.  Really.  In return we have had multiple renters move in and destroy it.  The last two moved in and the carpet did have a stain in the living room, but all in all, I was able to undo most of the damage from the previous renters.

We had to evict these renters.  They lied more times than I can count about when they would pay us and why they couldn't pay us.  In the end, they just didn't even attempt to settle up.  We have had no payments since December.  They just left last Saturday.  I told them we would take them to court.  In fact, I told them I would be over 10 days after I served them their eviction notice to assess damages for the law suit.  When I went, this was the state of the home....AND THEY KNEW WE WERE COMING!

That's the light in the bedroom, hanging by wires.

That's a massive stack of clothes piled in front of the electric box....notice the empty hangers and otherwise empty closet. 

This is where the dog they weren't supposed to have, dug through the new carpet to the subfloor.

This is the the state of my less than 3 year old bathroom.  I especially appreciate the pure filth in the corners of the floor.

This is the tub they bathed their 3 little girls in.

This is the totally stained carpet and the dirt smeared walls.

This is just one of the broken floor vents.  They are metal.  How does this happen?!

The refrigerator.

And the kitchen floor

Just look at the filth, pure filth.  

How can this situation get worse you ask?  Well, let me tell ya.  I went over Saturday, the day after they said they'd be out, which was more than 3 and 1/2 months since they paid rent last.  Ample time.  I first thought I would look in the storage shed and make sure the AC unit I put there in the fall hadn't been moved with the rest of their stuff.
 It hadn't, but that wasn't the big shock.  The shocker was that these people left a bunch of stuff, and then threw bags of garbage on top of all of it.  It's been sitting, rotting in my shed, for weeks.  Animals have been in it, torn open the bags, and then drug it all over the shed.
I was already mad, then much, much more mad after opening those doors.  Into the trailer I went, only to find that they left nearly everything for me to take care of.  The bedroom set, clothes, boxes, a couch, random trash and a fridge full of all sorts of sticky red stuff in the bottom.  They broke the floor vents, the light covers, the front AC unit, the toilet and the kitchen sink.  

As I was photographing the damages for the judge I look out the window to see my renter, Chris, literally running away from the trailer.  I went from mad, to livid.  I walked outside and yelled at him to get back there.  He asked why.  Why?!  I yelled, "Because of this!  Do you see this!?  You threw your trash in my shed and let it rot! You haven't paid me in months, you destroyed the trailer, and now I'm expected to clean up your filth!?"  To which he told me, "I paid you. I don't owe you anything.  This trailer is a run down piece of shit."  That's right....he blamed me for he and his wife and friends trashing the home.  This is about the point in our conversation when I lost it.  For every excuse he had, I had a reply that actually made sense.  He told me he had strangers living with him because he had no choice...I told him that he needed to realize that at this point, all he had left was his choices. I told him that I have worked hard for everything that I have, including the "rundown POS trailer" that he didn't appreciate living in.  Then  I took the opportunity to tell him that I was "sick of dealing with people that know more about working the system than working a job."  Yep.

I tell ya, I am nice.  Up until the point where you screw me over, then personally offend me or a family member, then I am not.  In fact, then I am not nice in the least.  Then, I am downright rude and unapologetic about it.  I won't have a single problem looking you in the eye and telling you, in no uncertain terms, what a low-life you are.    

Now understand my disappointment.
I have to go through this whole process again.  And this type of person, the Chris and Kim's of the world, will never pay me what they owe me.  Will never pay for the damages they've done.  They will keep ruining the things other people have worked for.  They will keep doing things like trading their LINK card for beer and cigarettes (not made up....Kim told me they did...it was her explanation for why CEFS should know her...apparently she went there to get food from their pantry b/c of the lack of said LINK card).  And I will pick up their filth, scrub the baseboards, scour the sinks and tubs, re-caulk the bathtub, rewire lights, shampoo carpets, repaint and pray that I don't get burned again by another renter, or renters, who have so little respect for others, so little respect for themselves, that they are ok with being worthless people and bringing up children with that example.  I can only hope that extraordinary rage with which I yelled at my renters will snap them out of the Kool-smoke filled haze they live in.  For the sake of their 3 little girls, I hope so, but I doubt it.  And now my friends, I will climb off my soapbox.  In fact I will store my soapbox it in a dark alley and use it as a weapon the next time I run into my renters.  

P.S. God, please forgive me my trespasses....and I'll work on not feeling hand-shaking anger each time I think about this situation. Amen. 

My nemesis

In my valentine's day post I mentioned that I made Zac a chocolate sheet cake, his mom's recipe, that he loves.  This cake is my nemesis.  Everytime I try to make it, things go terribly wrong.  The last time I attempted was the night before Thanksgiving.  I had a million other things to do and didn't get home until 6:30.  I made dinner, cleaned the house, did the laundry, packed Zac and I both (because he always forgets something) and made the cake.  I didn't get to the cake until about 9:30.  I measured everything, mixed it all up, greased and floured my pan, poured it and got it in the oven pretty quickly.  I started washing dishes and about 5 minutes later, when I saw the sour cream tub on the counter, realized I didn't add any to the cake.  I shut off the oven, pulled out the pan, and scraped everything back into my freshly washed mixing bowl.  Then I washed the pan, re-greased and floured, and re-poured the batter, this time with all the ingredients.  When I went to check on the cake 30 minutes later, I realized I'd forgotten to turn the oven back on.  And this is my history with chocolate sheet cake from scratch.

I decided to give it another go on the 12th....then got busy making candles for Ethel Edith and decided instead just to premeasure all my ingredients and then I would be set for the next evening and wouldn't be up late trying to bake again.  So on the 13th, after work and a million other things, I set to work on Zac's cake.  First things first, melting the butter.  I set my bowl of flour and cocoa and sugar on the stove and turned to put the butter in the microwave and heard a whoosh sound.  This was the sound I heard

That's four cups on the carpet.  Carpet.  Awesome.  I flipped over the bowl and scooped in as much as I could.  This is what was left.

I made good decision number two then, I put my hands on my legs and started to stand up...

I was frustrated bad now.  I dumped everything in the trash and started over.  Remeasured, repoured, baked. and it all was going pretty well.  Next, the clean up.  I put away everything that was cold first, then started on dry ingredients.  This is when I made bad decision number three.  Like mom always said, don't pick things up by the lid.  When you do, this happens. 

And cocoa explodes all over your floor.  Notice, the vacuum still out in the corner of the picture.  I thank God that Zac and I got a Dyson.  Thank you God.

This was my little containter after all the cocoa and flour, and sugar.

Now you understand why this cake is my nemesis.  My foe. 

Fortunately, the cake was perfectly cooked, the icing I made melted without clumps for once, and it was DONE!  Zac was thrilled and now I get to make the decision every morning to be terribly unhealthy and eat cake for breakfast.  I never regret it. 

The slums of Shelbyville

As I have mentioned before, my parents own a trailer park.  I am excited for it to be ours one day....which is crazy.  But property is always a good investment (unless it turns into some kind of giant sink hole) and this is a large lot within city limits.  There are lots of home in the park and three are mine.  I don't have any pictures of the second renovation, but I will write about my first two conquests later.  For now...it's all about #36.

I got a call from dad the last Thursday in January.  He said a guy he knew who was a "good shit" had a trailer for sale and it was a good deal.  Now being a good shit is exactly what I wanted to hear.  This means you are honest and you've dealt with my dad before and he was happy with the outcome.  I hope to only deal with "good shits" in my life.  

I called the guy up, he had a 16x80 trailer for sale for $8000, that included the move.  It needed "a couple sheets of drywall, the carpets shampooed and a couple pieces of trim for the countertops and it'll be good to go."  I told him if it was what he said it was, (and dad assured me it would be because of the aforementioned good shitness of the guy) he had himself a deal.  He had me drive a town over to look at pictures of the joint.  I agreed, it was a deal.  I called my banker, got the loan all set up, signed the paperwork on Friday and went Saturday to see it in person, cashiers check in hand.  

Now I knew the trailer had no appliances, I prepped for that by taking and extra $500 dollars on the loan.  What I didn't expect was the everything else I was gonna have to fix.  As it turns out, there were reasons the guy didn't have pictures of any of the bedrooms.  Now...this post is gonna be a little long, pictures are coming.....

This is the trailer itself, pretty sweet blue faux wood gain huh. 

When you walk in, you are in the living room, its a beauty, prep yourself.

We are lucky to have mirrors already in place, so we can check out all angles, all the time.

This is straight in front of you, notice the outlet dangling out of the wall. Safe.

Now if you turn right, you are in the hallway, where someone did this to the wall (this is where the couple sheets of drywall was supposed to go)

Just to your left is the green bedroom.  It's lacking a little, well, wall, both under the window

and where there are gaping holes in the wall

If that green carpet makes you nauseous, you can always stop at the bathroom at the end of the hall.  

While you're there, feel free to find the shower head for me, or the knob that turns the water on and off. 

Just to the left of the bathroom is the blue bedroom, complete with holes at the bottom of the wall. 

From here I'd like you to journey back through the living room to the kitchen.

LOVE the curtains? Me too.

Check out how well the cabinets were taken care of, the faux wood is peeling off and the shelves are rotting out. Oddly, the sink and faucet are really nice (or will be, after they are cleaned).

Oh, the guy I bought it off of forgot to mention that there were two drawers missing. You can see their empty spaces behind the furnace cover.

But, I'm afraid the couple pieces of countertop trim I'm supposed to pick up may not hid this.

There is a little hallway from kitchen to the bath, to your right is the laundry room, which isn't in too bad of shape, but the wall across from it is.

I suppose the door to the laundry room will have to be replaced, concidering it's missing the strip that holds the two sides together (that wall is part of the master bedroom, it's a little dinked up)

Now, the beautiful master bedroom, with a view into the master bath.  And yes, the side of the tub is carpeted.  One word, Luxury!

Now I started to get a little annoyed withe the guy because I had specifically asked him if there was any water damage and he told me "no, not a spot." what then, I ask, is this

or this

I'm lucky though, I can go back into my huge bathroom and take a nice relaxing shower

Ewww right!

Or, hang out with the dead flies

(notice, there is not a bit of countertop trim anywhere)

Or better yet, take a nice long soak in the garden tub.  

I was shocked to find though, upon my return to the trailer yesterday, that since Zac and I moved the trailer in a few days ago, someone or something has taken the liberty to come into what will be our abode and has pooped in our tub.

I'm pissed....and disgusted.

Now, as shocking as it is that someone(thing) has shat in my tub, what's worse is that I'm gonna have to clean it up.  I'm gonna have to scrape and peel and prime and repaint away someone's filth.  Plus, I already know that I'm gonna live here next.  When I get it done, you will see the after pictures and you will be shocked.  It will be liveable, even nice.  Until then, keep me in your prayers.  Apparently someone has a vendetta and they are repaying me one turd at a time. 

The price you pay for convenience

My trailer is little.  The bathroom has two sinks and under them is a cabinet completely void of shelves or drawers.  Everything becomes compartmentalized in baskets or clear plastic boxes.  Luckly, Maggie left behind this over-the-toilet cabinet which helps me to keep what I need out without having to dig  through totes all the time.  This is my little cabinet.

Now the only problem is that over-the-toilet cabinets sit over the toilet.  This is precarious.  Especially when you get in and out of the kinda wobbly cabinet frequently.  When I get ready in the morning I leave its little doors open til I'm done grabbing things.  I left the lid for my deoderant on the little shelf while applying...then this happened.  Yep, my lid, in the toilet.  Yuck.  Regardless of the fac that I'd cleaned the toilet the day before and let bleach soak in the basin.  It's still gross. This is, of course, not the first time this happened.  I lost my face lotion and a bottle of body spray.  This time, it was just too much for me to deal with in the morning.  I left the lid there....all day.  I came home that night and waited until I had to pee so bad I couldn't stand it anymore before I fished out the lid and washed my hands a few times.  

This is what my deoderant looks like now....sad, cap-less.   I feel like the deoderant deserves it.  If it can't look out for its cap better than that, then it doesn't deserve a cap.  

And yes, that is a pill box.  It helps me to actually meet my "take my vitamins everyday" goal.  I hated the way it looked on the counter so I put it in here.  Since then, I've forgotten to take them for a week straight.  Turns out, I am an out of sight, out of mind person. 

"Your grandpa is missing."

The honeymoon blog took up so much everything.  So much time and effort into each of those for like 2 weeks straight.  It was driving me nuts because all sorts of crazy stuff has happened since then.  This little story, is an example.

A little over two weeks ago I was finishing up my lunch break when I got a call from mom.  The conversation went a little like this....
m: "what are you doing right now?"
a: "waiting for my patient, I have a new one in 20 minutes.  why? what's up?"
m: "your grandpa is missing."
a: "what?!"
m: "grandma has been sick and she sent grandpa to Pana to get her some medicine at Wal-Mart and then to the grocery store.  she sent him this morning and he still isn't home.  i need you to go look for him."
a: "oh no, ummmm, let me call bill and see if he can be back here to treat this patient and then i'll go find him."

Now, grandpa taking his sweet time is not the issue.  I mean seriously, the man drives slow.  He's 91, he should drive slow.   The problem is that his memory is starting to go.  He had it tested, showed moderate impairment.  Moderate you say, that's not too bad, all things in moderation, right? No, not when it comes to your memory.  A moderate impairment equates to not remembering the year, or how to draw a stick figure house, or, in grandpa's case, from time to time, the directions to the house you've lived in for 60+ years.  My grandparents live in the country, with many roads you can easily get lost on, and he gets confused.

I called Bill, apologized that he had to cut his break short and left the office ASAP.  First things first, Wal-Mart.  I asked the pharmacist and the techs if they'd seen  him, they had, at around 10.  It was 2.  Then another pipes in that grandpa had come back, she'd seen his car van in the parking lot and him wandering in the aisles when she came back for lunch.  Good, he's only got an hour head start on me.

I called mom, reported what I had found, and went to find the scent again.  Other possible places for grandpa to be:  County Market, the car wash, getting his oil changed.  I struck out at all three.  Grandpa pulled the best vanishing act since David Blaine's Streetmagic.

Shortly thereafter mom called to say grandpa just pulled into the driveway.  Thank God. I was not looking forward to hours of scouring the countryside for a black and gold minivan rolling 35 miles an hour.

My cousin Ellen stopped by grandma and grandpas the next day.  She asked if there was anything they needed that Grandpa had forgotten.  Grandma said that he didn't get the half and half, and he got too much milk.  Grandpa laughed at this and told Ellen, "yeah, when we were in Shelbyville yesterday, we got too much milk and forgot the half and half."  No way to pretend like that didn't just happen.  Grandpa didn't realize grandma wasn't with him...or that he was in Pana....yikes!

So, the moral of this story.  Love your grandpa.  Love him dearly so that in the event he is lost, or doesn't remember if if things happened last week, or last year, you can rest assured knowing that he's got enough memories of you stored up, you won't ever be forgotten.