Occupy MyHome

This today from the AP wire service:

3.24.12: NEW YORK -- Bank of America says it has begun a pilot program offering some of its mortgage customers who are facing foreclosure a chance to stay in their homes by becoming renters instead of owners.

(Let me condense the plan here: For 1,000 BofA customers in AZ, NV and NY, the bank will take back the title, lower the rent to below prevailing rent for similar properties, and pick up insurance and taxes. The lucky occupants can remain in their homes for up to 3 years.)

If the pilot works out, I presume by that to mean homeowners do not set fire to the house or the bank, it will be expanded nationwide to (in their words) "stabilize property values" in communities where a lot of empty homes are falling into disrepair, to "curtail neighborhood blight."

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I've got a question.

If only a couple of conglomerates control all the meat production and processing...
   and if only a few more own all the grocery chains...
      and a few others the petrol and utilities...
         and the insurance companies...
            and the government is now trying to join in
                 with nationalized healthcare...
                      and the banks now will snatch up a full quarter of the homes
                             in the most desirable places to live ...
                                  how are we protecting our free
                                     enterprise and democratic systems
                                          of individual rights and opportunities?

Seems to me we're being set up to be beholdin' to a nationalized version of The Company Store.

Gung-Ho-Ness

I've been on a reading kick. I honestly run hot and cold on reading, although I enjoy it. I'm an action verb - noise and activity - so I tend to get lazy about it. But when the mind chatter is deafening, I turn to books in a quick succession of great reads: Half Broke Horses, Little Heathens, The Art of Racing in the Rain, The Book of Bright Ideas, and now, Merle's Door.

I've also taken 3 baths with a little spritzes of perfume in the water, and even lit a candle once as I sunk into the hot hot amniotic-like retreat. And get this: all before work.

How very odd.

The hubs and I tackle everything together. But when he's a stressball, I seek out Momma J for advice and balance. I'm pretty sure someone *important* knighted her life's cheerleader. Even as health issues creep into her life and impact it significantly, her voice is so cheerful and sweet when she tries to complain about it, that you are left with the impression that she doesn't really mind. That's because she is the gung-ho-highness.

LOL

The baths and books and candles are my way of seeking balance, so I can find my own gung-ho-ness. Here in the safety of a good read and hot water I will pass the time and improve my attitude.

I definitely go out of my way to take on others' troubles when I feel troubled, because it feels good to do that and lightens my load. I enjoy spending some of the morning in contemplation and prayer for others.

Another friend's mom passed yesterday, and beautifully slipped without pain into Heaven. It was abrupt like the snap of a whip, just a couple of days from start to finish, and the daughters are left dazed and shocked. But in talking with them later, I saw how much easier it is to let go when you have had a great lifelong relationship and watched them live an exemplary life.

Mind chatter: cut it out! I will find my version of Momma J's gung-ho-ness, so help me God.  Get it; got it; good.

Pride Goeth Before the Fall

It's evaluation time at work, a time of reflection and the earnest wish I could evaluate my supervisor the way she is evaluating me. :)  I have the best Sup in the world.

The hubs' job is winding down, the company bankrupt from decisions made that he had nothing to do with and no power to solve. For too long he's been the little Dutch boy with his finger in the dyke, selling like crazy to keep sales on the board and hope in the air.

The owners' instructions have been, and I quote, sell sell sell. And putting aside the integrity of knowingly bidding jobs there was no way to honor, that's just what he's done. The irony here is the company still holds the #1 Distributorship for sales in the US as it sinks in quicksand.

Someone on the outside helped interpret that for us. Why keep selling? Because the company's assets are in the backlog of jobs, which are sellable opportunities. When the company folds and investors come in, they will sell the jobs at a discount and other companies will snap up the chance to be the guys on the white horse saving the day. You've got to admit that is great PR.

It has occurred to us the owner could do that now, sell the backlog and bring the company solvent again, not displace workers, and get on with the hard work of rebuilding the company's reputation and credibility. He's an arrogant guy and would never face that, so instead he's instructed his minions to work hard as he slips out the back.

Time will tell how the investors will fare in all of this. But I know how the employees will do. Other than believing in the work-is-its-own-reward ethic, and collecting 3/5ths of a normal paycheck, all the employees will get out of this is a bad taste in their mouth as they desperately try to stay off the stats of the unemployed for another few weeks.

the change-it-up blues

A winter storm dumped tons of snow last night, down as low as 1500 ft. (Auburn). We got married in Auburn, a quaint little mining town of antique shops, restaurants and bookstores. Just like that, what was familiar is dressed up with a fresh coat of Look! Change!

I love the Fall, that glorious umbrella of summer shade that begins its transformation from green to yellow and red to brown. Leaves soothingly trickle down on the wind and gather in swirls at our feet in a crunchy, savory transition. The windows under the big shade tree gradually brighten as we peek between branches, and the room cools and fills with light.

So many places have defined seasons - but not where I live. Our winter sucks. It's fall without the leaves and spring without the green burst of life. Winter here is windy and rainy and sunny and dark, with quick freezes inbetween. It's no wonder the cherry blossoms and daffodils pop out in February rather than April and get shot down.

We have rhythmless seasons, and fall out of tune with what's going on. Our bugs don't die. We have mosquitos in February and flies in December. Early summer trickles into Indian summer, pours into fall and blows through winter.

Change is like that. It is abrupt and terrifying sometimes like eastern seasons, when there's no choice but to deal with it. But more often it is gradual and gentle as a lamb, so subtle in fact, that we scarcely notice it with our busy days and evenings immersed in a good book. By the time it registers on the radar, hey something is different, the jig is up.  

Had we been paying attention, we would have seen a thousand subtle unconscious changes we accepted, compass realignments that charted the course to where we are standing. More than likely it's only when spring bursts forth that we look around in astonishment, saying, What, Spring? Again?

And Also With You

Being *this age* is a blessing. My grandmother didn't live this long, and a few friends have been lost along the way, way too soon.

I like that life has taught the difference between what seems important and what really is; why being nice is better than seeming nice; and that the trail of someone's life always leads somewhere. 

I have a friend, that's all I'll say about the gal who got me through the tough comprehensive exams in college. We've been friends for 39 years, an astonishing 68% of my life.

I uncomfortably lay in bed sometimes and as I adjust my position wonder what it would be like not to be able to do that. I stand in front of the mirror washing my face and brushing my teeth, knowing that she never has. The invisible things we do for ourselves are her biggest challenges.

But she shines brightly elsewhere. Life has not been easy but she grabbed it with gusto anyway. She had to wait for what she wanted but she traveled overseas; she moved away from home; she met and married the love of her life; she found opportunities and purpose in outreach and blogging about her faith.

The challenges of age and health and finances plague us now and I think of her often, how she faces obstacles and dissolves them away, hoping I am forged of the same steel. 

She and her husband are on our minds this morning, as we project our energy and love over the miles, to strengthen them in the days ahead.

"Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear - not absence of fear." 
~Mark Twain, Pudd'nhead Wilson's Calendar, 1894

Transitions! Transitions!

We were given new computers at work. It has all sorts of extra stuff and increased power and responsiveness. It has the upgraded Windows 7. I sure hope Microsoft didn't cut the company a deal because it's a dog of a program and tomorrow will put out version 7.125 that fixes all the bugs in the one I just got.

It's black and sleek with a new car smell. I turn it on and sloop! on comes the screen and in a quarter of the time the log in appears. Whoa: that BMW is quick on that curve and I'm used to the old model Toyota.

Some things are generally the same, but oh boy some are not. With this go round, "they" have grouped things in these weird little clusters at the top of the page. That is especially true in Excel which I use predominantly. You can no longer just click on the icon at the top to highlight a square or freeze the top row for a scroll down. You have to find it, to think the way the geekers think, and figure out how it is grouped. And seriously, have a pad and pen handy, because once you spend a bunch of time finding it, most assurredly next time you will have forgotten where it is.

My mom used to set up her address book interestingly. Andy Williams was in the A's and sometimes in the W's and sometimes under C because they met at church. (I wonder what made me think of that.)

Anyway, yada yada, more transitions. But I love the quick download of pdf files with lightening speed, and split frame excel spreadsheets to toggle between them. It's so good I probably don't need that 2nd screen anymore because of that, so the desk is a little more spacious. I now have a shiny new DVD player and the speakers actually work, so really I'm set.

They even transfered over all the Favorites and photos. So my buddy at work had just gotten an upgrade the day prior and I observed her working off both computers for awhile: hunched over a laptop and her new desktop sitting behind.

When she finally came up for air and converted over, I found her wandering around looking for her printed documents, only to realize that she hadn't connected the printer yet.

My printer problems were different. My default settings were to a Dell printer (3) which I assumed was what I printed to before. I printed six or eight things and have yet to find them. I added paper to every printer up and down the hall, and that's pretty much the extent of my technical printer expertise unless you want me to turn it off.

Our printers are networked statewide, so I concluded my docs are probably at an office in Bakersfield with people scratching their heads.

Little Red Numbers

I got up early and did a little spring cleaning. I went through my inbox, all 1,387 messages, and labeled and organized the keeper messages and nuked the rest.  And then I went through the sent box and did the same. And then on to the trash, for a final farewell. Goodbye!

I popped back on to survey the cleansing process and was presented with half a page of twenty four current emails. And there was a ridiculous pang of lonesomeness for missing the comfortable clutter of old emails.  WhatEver, brain.

That's online for ya!  Those addictive little red numbers above the facebook icons that greet you with the sentiment: you were missed, and here is proof. I love that moment just before you click on it, when it feels like holding a card that came in the mail. Someone was thinking of me: let's see who!

But I hate it, too.

Facebook's success is about the clicks it pulls from you, and that means faking you out. Sometimes those little red numbers aren't for you at all, but for someone you know who knows someone's friend's son. I don't need to know/see/read that!!!  But that's the game.

Sometimes my willpower is strong and I don't click on those numbers and leave those red tags hanging there unfulfilled. To be powerful and in control. Infuriatingly they hang there, temptingly, knowing I will eventually give in.

It will drive you insane if you're into that sort of thing. Which I am. But you didn't hear it from me.

Reely Cool

Three years ago, Tonya Ritchie went to a Salvation Army store in St. John's, Newfoundland, Canada and bought a purple suitcase for $5.

Ritchie, who was in St. John's to attend a friend's wedding, bought the bag to cart some frozen fish back home to Shelburne, Ontario, reports the Star.

Tucked in the bag’s front pocket — zipped shut and stored in her attic for much of the time since then — were three 8 mm film reels containing the childhood memories of a friend, Janet Piper, 51, who lives just three doors down. Incidentally, St. John's is over a thousand miles away from Shelburne.

It wasn't until this January that she realized what an incredible find she had on her hands. Retrieving the bag from the attic for an upcoming trip, Ritchie -- who had not thought to open the front pockets before -- discovered the reels by chance. The reels were labeled to a Mr. James Brander of Glen Williams, Ontario.

Ritchie realized this was somebody's memories, and if they were hers she would want them. Ritchie knew her good friend and neighbor, Janet Piper, 51, grew up in Glen Williams. Intrigued, Ritchie's husband showed Piper's husband the reels. What happened next seems to come right out of a novel.

James Brander was Piper's father. He died nine years ago. And the reels? They documented Piper's childhood with footage from her parents' trip to Disney World, a birthday party and a New Year's celebration.

"We laughed, we cried, we hugged. We were a little freaked out."

No one knows how the reels got to Newfoundland, nor does anyone in Piper's family recognize the purple suitcase.

"It is just bizarre, the chances of me picking it up is crazy," Ritchie said of the purple suitcase. 

"To give (Janet) back a piece of her dad is more than I can ever put into words. It is the best five bucks I've ever spent."

The Great Reboot

Western Civilisation: Decline – or Fall?     
By Niall Ferguson

As a freshman historian at Oxford back in 1982, I was required to read Edward Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Ever since that first encounter with the greatest of all historians, I have pondered the question whether or not the modern West could succumb to degenerative tendencies similar to the ones described so vividly by Gibbon. My most recent book, Civilization: The West and the Rest attempts an answer to that question.

The good news is that I do not believe that Western civilization is in some kind of gradual, inexorable decline. In my view, civilizations do not rise, fall, and then gently decline, as inevitably and predictably as the four seasons or the seven ages of man. History is not one smooth, parabolic curve after another. The bad news is that its shape is more like an exponentially steepening slope that quite suddenly drops off like a cliff.

To see what I mean, pay a visit to Machu Picchu, the lost city of the Incas. In 1530 the Incas were the masters of all they surveyed from the heights of the Peruvian Andes. Within less than a decade, foreign invaders with horses, gunpowder, and lethal diseases had smashed their empire to smithereens. Today tourists gawp at the ruins that remain.

The notion that civilizations do not decline but collapse inspired the anthropologist Jared Diamond's 2005 book, Collapse. But Diamond focused, fashionably, on man-made environmental disasters as the causes of collapse. As a historian, I take a broader view. My point is that when you look back on the history of past civilizations, a striking feature is the speed with which most of them collapsed, regardless of the cause.

The Roman Empire did not decline and fall over a millennium, as Gibbon's monumental work seemed to suggest. It collapsed within a few decades in the early fifth century, tipped over the edge of chaos by barbarian invaders and internal divisions. In the space of a generation, the vast imperial metropolis of Rome fell into disrepair, the aqueducts broken, the splendid marketplaces deserted. The Ming dynasty's rule in China also fell apart with extraordinary speed in the mid–17th century, succumbing to internal strife and external invasion. Again, the transition from equipoise to anarchy took little more than a decade.

A more recent and familiar example of precipitous decline is, of course, the collapse of the Soviet Union. And, if you still doubt that collapse comes suddenly, just think of how the postcolonial dictatorships of North Africa and the Middle East imploded this year. Twelve months ago, Messrs. Ben Ali, Mubarak, and Gaddafi seemed secure in their gaudy palaces. Here yesterday, gone today.

What all these collapsed powers have in common is that the complex social systems that underpinned them suddenly ceased to function. One minute rulers had legitimacy in the eyes of their people; the next they did not. This process is a familiar one to students of financial markets. Even as I write, it is far from clear that the European Monetary Union can be salvaged from the dramatic collapse of confidence in the fiscal policies of its peripheral member states. In the realm of power, as in the domain of the bond vigilantes, you are fine until you are not fine—and when you're not fine, you are suddenly in a terrifying death spiral.

The West first surged ahead of the Rest after about 1500 thanks to a series of institutional innovations that (to entice younger readers) I call the "killer applications":
1.Competition. Europe was politically fragmented into multiple monarchies and republics, which were in turn internally divided into competing corporate entities, among them the ancestors of modern business corporations.

2.The Scientific Revolution. All the major 17th-century breakthroughs in mathematics, astronomy, physics, chemistry, and biology happened in Western Europe.

3.The Rule of Law and Representative Government. An optimal system of social and political order emerged in the English-speaking world, based on private-property rights and the representation of property owners in elected legislatures.

4.Modern Medicine. Nearly all the major 19th- and 20th-century breakthroughs in health care were made by Western Europeans and North Americans.

5.The Consumer Society. The Industrial Revolution took place where there was both a supply of productivity-enhancing technologies and a demand for more, better, and cheaper goods, beginning with cotton garments.

6.The Work Ethic. Westerners were the first people in the world to combine more extensive and intensive labor with higher savings rates, permitting sustained capital accumulation.

For hundreds of years, these killer apps were essentially monopolized by Europeans and their cousins who settled in North America and Australasia. They are the best explanation for what economic historians call "the great divergence": the astonishing gap that arose between Western standards of living and those in the rest of the world. In 1500 the average Chinese was richer than the average North American. By the late 1970s the American was more than 20 times richer than the Chinese.

Westerners not only grew richer than "Resterners." They grew taller, healthier, and longer-lived. They also grew more powerful. By the early 20th century, just a dozen Western empires—including the United States—controlled 58 percent of the world's land surface and population, and a staggering 74 percent of the global economy.

Beginning with Japan, however, one non-Western society after another has worked out that these apps can be downloaded and installed in non-Western operating systems. That explains about half the catching up that we have witnessed in our lifetimes, especially since the onset of economic reforms in China in 1978.

I am not one of those people filled with angst at the thought of a world in which the average American is no longer vastly richer than the average Chinese. I welcome the escape of hundreds of millions of Asians from poverty, not to mention the improvements we are seeing in South America and parts of Africa. But there is a second, more insidious cause of the "great reconvergence," which I do deplore—and that is the tendency of Western societies to delete their own killer apps.

Who's got the work ethic now? The average South Korean works about 39 percent more hours per week than the average American. The school year in South Korea is 220 days long, compared with 180 days in the U.S. And you do not have to spend too long at any major U.S. university to know which students really drive themselves: the Asians and Asian-Americans. The consumer society? 26 of the 30 biggest shopping malls in the world are now in emerging markets, mostly in Asia. Modern medicine? As a share of gross domestic product, the United States spends twice what Japan spends on health care and more than three times what China spends. Yet life expectancy in the U.S. has risen from 70 to 78 in the past 50 years, compared with leaps from 68 to 83 in Japan and from 43 to 73 in China.

The rule of law? For a real eye-opener, take a look at the latest World Economic Forum (WEF) Executive Opinion Survey. On no fewer than 15 of 16 different issues relating to property rights and governance, the United States fares worse than Hong Kong. Indeed, the U.S. makes the global top 20 in only one area: investor protection. On every other count, its reputation is shockingly bad. The U.S. ranks 86th in the world for the costs imposed on business by organized crime, 50th for public trust in the ethics of politicians, 42nd for various forms of bribery, and 40th for standards of auditing and financial reporting.

What about science? U.S.-based scientists continue to walk off with plenty of Nobel Prizes each year. But Nobel winners are old men. The future belongs not to them but to today's teenagers. Here is another striking statistic. Every three years the Organization of Economic Cooperation and Development's Program for International Student Assessment tests the educational attainment of 15-year-olds around the world. The latest data on "mathematical literacy" reveal that the gap between the world leaders—the students of Shanghai and Singapore—and their American counterparts is now as big as the gap between U.S. kids and teenagers in Albania and Tunisia.

The late, lamented Steve Jobs convinced Americans that the future would be "Designed by Apple in California. Assembled in China." Yet statistics from the World Intellectual Property Organization show that already more patents originate in Japan than in the U.S., that South Korea overtook Germany to take third place in 2005, and that China has just overtaken Germany too.

Finally, there's competition, the original killer app that sent the fragmented West down a completely different path from monolithic imperial China. The WEF has conducted a comprehensive Global Competitiveness survey every year since 1979. Since the current methodology was adopted in 2004, the United States' average competitiveness score has fallen from 5.82 to 5.43, one of the steepest declines among developed economies. China's score, meanwhile, has leapt up from 4.29 to 4.90.

Not only is the U.S. less competitive abroad. Perhaps more disturbing is the decline of meaningful competition at home, as the social mobility of the postwar era has given way to an extraordinary social polarization. You do not have to be an Occupy Wall Street activist to believe that the American super-rich elite—the 1 percent that collects 20 percent of the income—has become dangerously divorced from the rest of society, especially from the underclass at the bottom of the income distribution.

But if we are headed toward collapse, what will it look like? An upsurge in civil unrest and crime, as happened in the 1970s? A loss of faith on the part of investors and a sudden Greek-style leap in government borrowing costs? How about a spike of violence in the Middle East, from Iraq to Afghanistan, as insurgents capitalize on our troop withdrawals? Or a paralyzing cyberattack from the rising Asian superpower we complacently underrate?

Is there anything we can do to prevent such disasters? Social scientist Charles Murray calls for a "civic great awakening"—a return to the original values of the American republic. He has a point. Far more than in Europe, most Americans remain instinctively loyal to the killer applications of Western ascendancy, from competition all the way through to the work ethic. They know the country has the right software. They just cannot understand why it is running so damn slowly.

What we need to do is to delete the viruses that have crept into our system: the anticompetitive quasi monopolies that blight everything from banking to public education; the politically correct pseudosciences and soft subjects that deflect good students away from hard science; the lobbyists who subvert the rule of law for the sake of the special interests they represent—to say nothing of our crazily dysfunctional system of health care, our overleveraged personal finances, and our newfound unemployment ethic.

Then we need to download the updates that are running more successfully in other countries, from Finland to New Zealand, from Denmark to Hong Kong, from Singapore to Sweden. And finally we need to reboot our whole system.

Voters and politicians alike dare not postpone the big reboot. If what we are risking is not decline but downright collapse, then the time frame may even be tighter than one election cycle.

Labels

There's hang ups going around. Title hangups, those places in the past where you had long and detailed titles that only reflected on you at a dinner party. Titles with a wink, because it isn't in stature or pay.

I've dabbled in being so many things, here and there, a fancy administrative this 'n that, executive and library work, co-ed, donut slinger, and cub scout leader. They are my decopague.   

I move every 5-6 years. My hair was brown, then gray, then blonde, then a hybrid, and now it's somewhere inbetween. I have six less teeth than I was born with. Thin then, not so thin now. No tattoos. One surgery scar. Three kids. One ex. A healthy crop of wrinkles.

Some of those labels do not define me in the present.  And yet, the good and bad, big and small, silly and sound, proves an ability to adapt. The world can flex and not break. When it's time to pack up the wagon and get a move on for the next phase of the journey, I can.

The hubs and I are sure of it: phase I is over. But not us. We are stronger than ever.

I pray we keep fast the wisdom and devotion to those we love; and that it shows in the choices we make; and that we stay in tune with not only what we have the right to do, but what is right to do.

Linda Rapp

A little old lady we happened to meet
As we sat in the sun with Sam at our feet
Came walking on by and on chance grabbed a seat.

She said she was searching for her family pet
Who couldn't come with her, she had to admit
For a hospital stay, in Auburn CA.

The Sheriff, he took her from under her nose
And told her he'd place her where she could repose
And wait for her owner whenever she chose.

She had no choice, really, and cried and was mad
But what could she do? Her health was quite bad
And one week turned into three weeks, which was sad.

On the day she was sprung she searched high and searched low
But no one could tell her where the dog had been stowed;
By then, she had no home or apartment to go.

So she stayed in a room in Placer CA
And searched and made calls, but they turned her away
She traveled the state til she hit Monterey

And that is how she came to be on our block
In a chair at our table in complete utter shock
And desperate to find her best friend and lost pup.

My heart lept to action, I had to step in
And so as we talked I began to fill in
Answers to questions and where to begin.

I promised to e-hunt as soon as I could
Find a hint of her dog, and I thought that I would,
But how would I reach her, and how could she call?

Because she had nothing, nothing at all.
She said she would call me to see what I found
(By the time we got home, her calls were profound.)

I said hold your horses: I'm just getting home!
But her heart was in pain and she couldn't let go
So I jumped on to help her and looked on my own.

I found what I think was her dog up near me
And a nice rescue center who knew the story
But now she was homeless and unsuitable, you see?

You're kidding me, right? My heart clutched a bit
as I nodded my head and bit on my lip.
Why not ask the dog if she's still a good fit?

But those are the rules and the dog has been placed
in a home with some stairs and a yard and some space.
I think the whole thing is a total disgrace.

My last glimpse of her down in old Monterey
was turning a corner, in a sad sort of way
No dog was beside her and nothing to say.

There's a little old woman alone and depressed,
who wanders the streets with her cane and her vest
No family to speak of, and feeling adrift.

2012 Blitz Fundraiser Calendar (ACS)

This calendar is part of my fundraising effort to promote local events. These are our family pets (you will recognize Sammy) from our region, and the Solano County unit who we are hosting until a new office is found. (Their building was involved in an electrical fire in January.)

 The calendar proceeds will support the Big Bark of Sacramento, which is a 3 hour Relay walkathon with dogs. We and our pals will be enjoying the great company and weather on June 30th. If you would like to join us, ring me up!

Sam and Lucy

Brandi, Murray and Webster

Bijou

Snickers

Lola, Sherman and Lomax

Gretchen

Tootsie, Sammy and Sunshine

Mrs. Pepper O'Peabody

and Murray

Lucy, Bleu and Joey

Hennessey and Sunshine, Webster,

Gretchen and Monty

Monty

Sammy

All Caps

The deeper the crisis, the better we get.

The way people use money as a shield and a weapon, a wedge, those times are over. Mostly.

OMG! spending it all now has consequences! 

It hurts but I like it. Self reliant people now turn to each other, look each other in the eye, reach out to give or receive. They help each other find jobs and housing. They leave treats under a throw pillow, $20 for struggling friends, and find homes for a dog in need.  HUMANITY in all caps.

There are murmers, and wonders about how it will end: and people lending an arm to lean on, grateful it isn't them but knowing it easily could be.

Reach for me, let me grab hold and lift you up. I try not to look away.

Where do you put that, when love is so dense that you are unable to accept it?

Travel Companions

It was the Hubs' birthday - and this month is big anyway with VDay and our anniversary - so we decided to get out of town and take a little adventure trip down the coast. Traveling with a cute little dog is like traveling with a toddler: passerbys can't help themselves but to pause and connect about a shared experience. Literally people were pulling up a chair as we sat outside for breakfast. What a gas.

What we had to haul down with us was also toddleresque. There's the crate, the pillow, the play blanket, the toys and bowls and leashes and brushes. And the contingency stuff, like shampoo in case of an unfortunate happening-upon a dead something or other and just having to roll in it, or something.

We stayed in Pacific Grove in a pretty little 1 room cottage with a toilet and closet. A dog bed with a potty bag and 2 dog biscuits were waiting for Sam upon arrival, a pat on the head by the check in clerk, and instructions on where to go for you-know-what. All that, and just 2 or 3 blocks to the beach.

Her first beach experience was fun - and her tearing everywhere in the soft sand and figuring out really quick about the tide. Ixnay on the aterway. She loved the kelp and smelly dead things underneath and for a while we thought her sniffer might get dislocated with moving so fast.

On to Carmel on Sunday, and a walkabout with tons of other dogs -- I mean maybe 70? -- on leashes with families in tow, everyone being reasonably well mannered (kids included). There were parks nestled around and away from the sidewalks and shops for the dogs with doggie gloves to pick up and discard the waste. The sidewalks were clean as a whistle.

Carmel was the most dog friendly place we've ever been. We would see an interesting shop and one of us would stay on the sidewalk and the other would step inside. Almost immediately someone inside would invite INVITE!!! Sam inside and ask if she could have a treat. She was admired in stores and restaurants and hotels and antique shops, and always with a bowl of fresh water. People walking our direction would just reach down and pat her head and keep on their way. Conversations would center around what kind of dog is she, and hazard a guess at what breed mix she might be in addition to lab.  Sam seemed to walk a little taller there, a little more polite, and only once picked something up until she saw the scowl on my face, and gently let it go.

Another trip to the beach, this time at a no leash beach, what I suppose feels to a dog the way a nude beach feels to sunbathers. There were dogs as far as the eye can see, running free into the waves to retrieve a frisbee, walking alongside their owners, running and chasing each other, and tearing after toys.

We took a break to drive along the coast, and on the way home stopped in to visit her favorite Beagle in San Jose.  Sam is officially christened as travel companion!  Now all we need is for her not to christen the floor of her Beagle friend's kitchen and we're all set.

Be My Valentine, 2012

The hubs put a lot of thought into last night. Flowers on the table with not one card, but two, and a replacement pair of earrings that I had searched for online. 

After dinner, we headed to the Mondavi, the tickets also his idea.  I can't remember a time ...

Leo Kottke  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_uk_VWP5dMI can surely play a guitar! His 12 string and slack key guitar songs were wonderful. We enjoyed his dry wit and self-effacing humor, and came away with a great big smile and something to hum on the way to the car.

The Mondavi is perched at the edge of the university and Hwy 113 in Davis. It is made of natural slate, granite and wood. One side is all windows and the rest is all acoustics that makes every seat in the house the right one. A HUGE women's bathroom was an amazing treat. And under the theatre seats, I discovered these cool vents that circulates fresh air during the show. !!

So in addition to seeing the performer, there is the additional sensory treat of being inside. My last time here was a Sing Along Messiah and I swear we sounded like the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.

What an amazing time together. Here's to my better half!

Around the Water Cooler

Yesterday, we put Sammy's leash on a couple of minutes before walking out the door. She loves going anywhere, and we've done this before. No big deal. But on Sunday when we called to her, she tore through the kitchen and somehow the end of the leash caught on the water jug stand and the whole thing came crashing to the floor. It made a terrific sound, and a terrific mess as you might imagine - shards of broken pottery and water was everywhere.

Holy cow!~ I jumped for the towels and she ran for the back door, and once the towels were down we found her trembling and curled into a ball, ears back and eyes downcast. I crumpled to the floor and called to her just a few feet away, and she wouldn't come. In soothing tones I called her again, please come, it's alright, arms open, waiting. Nope.

So I inched over and she looked up at me with the saddest expression, as if saying 'I don't know what happened, but it was my fault.' I wrapped her in a hug and curled her into my lap and we sat there, her shivering in fright and me covering the wet, scared dog in the comfort of a shawl.

It's alright. Really.  

She had to be outside for a while until we picked up all the sharp pieces - and mop up gallons of water - and she threw up twice before we coaxed her back inside. Slowly we worked with her, it's alright honey, look how clean the floor is, such a sweet good girl ... and in time she began to relax.

She threw up twice more overnight, and is still acting sad and embarrassed. What a sensitive and gentle heart she has! I just wish I could talk dog.

Soldier On

A lot of life is about precious moments that take our breath away. They are the moments we never forget. Today was like that, one for the books, as we sat mulling over options and futures and all of those earth-bound things that shouldn't really matter, but do. 

We half expected it. And now that it is here, we weren't expecting it at all. We are moving on without the house. But what we aren't doing is fighting a game-changing, never-coming-back-from battle. The things that feel so catastrophic aren't really all that important in the grand scheme of things.

Ours is just a battle of leverages and bottom lines, and having the smarts to know when a flag has been called.  Put a bag of frozen peas on that eye and soldier on. Whatever's ahead is almost here.

Designer Depression

I think we're in a Depression: an original, dyed in the wool, full blown depression.
Similarities.

• A period of great wealth followed by a stock market crash and widespread economic pain.
• Wealth concentrated at the top among the very few, very successful
• Statistics seriously under-representing the depth of the problem.
• Unemployment in unequal measure: most hard hit were the poor, followed by the middle class.
• A re-examination of ethnicity as a determining factor for success.
• A significant erosion of the middle class.
• People turning to growing their own vegetables and raising their own animals.
• A barter system for communities to share what they had.
• Between 1929-1933, some 9,000 banks failed. Since 2007, 412 banks (some of them megabanks) have failed.
• A profound sense of shame being unemployed. People withdraw from their circles and disappear.
• Families shared housing, and life became somber and filled with worry.
• A profound distrust of the banks and money was moved elsewhere.
• After the Tsunami market crash of October 1929, the repercussions took years to manifest. Same is true today. Ours was not just one catastrophic event, but we are not even halfway through what will ultimately impact the economic stabilizers  of housing, GNP, growth, jobs, government and banks.

Dissimilarities.

• Social programs are in place as a first-line defense.
• Income Tax was implemented since 1929 and now hampers handymen and other small businesses that in the depression helped people make due.
• There is a different expectation of want (we have more, but perceive it as less)
• Some are in terrible straits, but not all. In the 1930s it was pretty much everyone.
• There are many stories about never leaving a hungry stranger at the door. We do not share that community mindset.
• There was no FDIC to insure the money when the banks failed. People lost it all.
• Social Security! Que Serra Serra. It is here now and that will hugely impact how the boomer cuspers cope with the Depression? Recession? Dip in the Road? Whatchamagiggie.

Adjust Your Snorkel

I predicted this would be the Year of Change. Not entirely in the ways I had hoped, but it's proving true.

Having a mortgage situation isn't for the faint of heart, that's for sure. It began as a simple inquiry - hey, can we look at this, please ... ?

Last year we went to a lender who said we qualified; had the appraisal done which came back okay; decided to pony up some cash to equalize things; had a decent interest rate and terms; and were denied because the original loan has PMI. (Private mortgage insurance, an additional fee to the loan because the bank lent outside their comfort zone criteria. It is their hedge against default.)

Next, we called BofA who holds the Countrywide note to talk about a modification, and were told by the first line bank answerer that she would maybe get the PMI removed. $135 a month, just like that, gone? Was this woman the CEO to wield such power? 

She said any homeowner who has paid a while on their mortgage without incident can request a review of PMI, maybe even have it dropped entirely. No one knows this, of course. If you happen to call in and happen to ask, they will look into it. Except they said no for us, even though we were current on our loan.

So on we went to Wells Fargo, where Randy has banked since he was in high school. We met with the loan officer in October. He never even called us back.

And this, with two stable incomes and 35 years of great credit histories.

We were clearly being discriminated against! So I did some online research and am now hooked into the 5-refi-solicitation-calls-a-week and as many emails that won't qualify us. Then researched the Government website and the HARP program. And the VA option. Nope.Nope.Nope. Too high of a loan to value (meaning, we're underwater).

Hello!!! After not losing sleep over funding loans that required 50% or more of someone's take home pay to pay back, they worry for being asked to help families stay in their own homes? Banks are sleeping alright: it's the rest of us that are worried sick.

Multiply that by thousands and thousands of people who want to do the right thing and are told it would be better to miss a few payments, to get the bank's attention. And when they follow that advice, the bank still won't work with them and they fall into default.

Or those that are being encouraged by friends and family (and attorneys) to walk away and live rent free until the 3 day notice comes. It sounds sweet to be hounded day and night by creditors and give up the good credit they have spent a lifetime to build.

Hang onto that snorkel: it's still low tide.

Hey, is anyone in the market for a 3/2 on a busy street, sparkling pool and hot tub, remodeled kitchen and baths, for 25% more than it will appraise?

My Life as a Recycled Bride

Super funny article in today's Huffington Post by Tracy DiNunzio, founder of Recycled Bride:

I know more about weddings than your average bear. I also know a few things about getting divorced, starting a company, and exquisitely f-ing up your life while your parents and everyone else look on in shock and horror. And because of my messy, complicated, and admittedly ridiculous experiences with all of these things, I may just be able to save you some time and trouble when it comes to planning your own wedding -- and more importantly, enjoying your marriage.

I got married on a sweltering hot day in July of 2008. Robert and I planned a big, expensive, perfect wedding. His family is Jewish, mine's a mix of Jewish/Catholic/Lunatic. So we had all the bells and whistles of your typical American Jewish wedding: 47 food stations at the cocktail hour, a five-course dinner, a 10-piece band, and 200 formally attired, obscenely sweaty guests.

Planning this affair was stressful and stretched all of our resources to the max. We argued with each other, we argued with our parents, I think I even argued with the flower girl, and she's 3 (but for the record, she was wrong). The wedding was beautiful, but by the time we rode off into the sunset, we were totally drained.

That experience inspired me to create Recycled Bride, an online marketplace where brides buy and sell gently used (and new) wedding dresses, decorations, and more. I wanted to help other couples avoid the stress of spending their future children's college fund on a wedding. Robert and I were excited to run Recycled Bride together. I couldn't dream of anything more picture-perfect than working with my new husband on our very own wedding business.

Oops.

Within months, we began to develop what they call "irreconcilable differences". We separated before our first anniversary, and divorced shortly thereafter. And there I was, secretly coping with an embarrassing divorce while writing about bridal bouquets, wedding dresses, and everyone else's happily ever after...on a website called Recycled Bride. It was like the universe was playing a cruel (but clever) joke on me, and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the irony. So I did lots of both.

After a while, Robert and I found our footing as friends, and even resumed running the business together. But the only thing harder to explain than a swift divorce (see: Kim Kardashian), is a fledgling business that takes up all your time, but is pre-revenue (that's a fancy web business word for "we weren't making any money then"). I was working crazy hours with no income, and needed a solution that wouldn't distract me from building the Recycled Bride empire. So I decided to earn extra cash by renting out my guest room to travelers.

My very first renter was Collin, a musician who wanted a cozy place to stay while he was in Los Angeles for a week. I pretended not to notice that he was cute. He pretended not to notice that I was pretending not to notice that he was cute. We fell easily into endless conversations, and then we fell in love. Collin extended his stay in California, and then extended it again, until we both realized that he was never leaving and he moved from the guest room into what's now "our room". Last week, we got married in a tiny romantic beach wedding with no guests.

The wedding was somewhat spontaneous, and we weren't well prepared. We didn't have a witness, so a random stranger on the beach ended up signing our marriage license. He may have been homeless. He may have been Mickey Rourke. We're still debating, but it's definitely one of those two. I wore stupid, pretty shoes, then twisted my ankle and stepped on Collin's toe the minute we hit the sand. During the ceremony, raging beach winds turned my hair into a ridiculous bird's nest. The wind was so loud, we couldn't even hear the officiant, so instead of repeating our vows, we said "What!?" a whole lot.

Afterwards, we got drunk on champagne at our favorite neighborhood restaurant, I ripped my dress, and then we rode off on unicorns into the sunset. It was...perfect.

In an ironic and totally unexpected way, I got my happily ever after. But I had to stop believing in glossy photos and "perfect days" to get here.

I have an amazing husband, an ex who's also a great friend and coworker, and a thriving business -- and none of it looks anything like I expected. So when I talk to brides who are fretting about the imperfections, the awkward moments, the feeling that they're somehow not living the "big day dream", I wish I could bundle up all of my experiences, good and bad, and magically infuse them into every bride's brain. Because I might have screwed up a lot (yes, a lot!), but I learned some good lessons. Here they are, in no particular order:

1. Your wedding, your marriage, and your life will be filled with flaws, mistakes, inappropriate jokes, and unexpected plot twists. Embrace the weirdness of it all, and learn to laugh at yourself.
2. Planning a wedding is just like starting a business. You have a budget and need rent space, hire employees, and create something that delights your customers/guests. If wedding planning with your partner isn't fun, you probably shouldn't start a business together.
3. Wedding photos lie. Especially the ones on blogs, in magazines, and on Facebook. Pretty does not equal happy, and happy is way more awesome.
4. Everybody has gross morning breath. That's kind of unrelated, but not necessarily. It just a thing that's true.
5. There are no signs or omens. If your dress arrives late or it rains on your wedding day, it has no bearing on the quality of the life that you build, every day, together.

Now go forth, and be married!