Enough Grief

It hasn't been a great summer so far.  Death of a friend, although not unexpected as he was 98 years old, and bad health news from my dearest friend.  A is struggling with depression, she hates it here, hates her life.  She does manage to get herself moving for meals and for work, but that is about it.  She really needs to take her talks to her therapist toward this.  Mom's dementia continues to worsen and I find it very discouraging and tiring to try to keep up.

And then...

My neighbor (the one I've written about before) hits me with the most humorous accusations.

To preface:  Her husband, a very hard working gentleman, has been trying to neaten their yard.  Last week he evidently did some digging out around the area where he parks his truck next to the fence.  As I was sitting in my den window, about 20 feet away, I heard him shoveling rock into place.  I looked out the window just as some of the crushed rock shot under the fence and into the grassy area next to our back drive.  So...

The other day I was out weeding the veggie garden and along the stone area where I park.  It dawned on me about those stray stones.  I thought, gee, while I'm out here I'll go check on that.  I don't want to get hit by them when I next weedwack along that edge.  I worked my way along the drive, picking up the bits of crushed rock and gently tossing or placing them back under the fence to join the others he had shoveled.

Minding my own business.

Finished and looked up as I was to walk back down my drive.  There she stood...arms crossed in front of her.  Her comment at my shrug?  "You don't have enough stones so you have to steal ours?"

I laughed and responded that she must be joking.

She wasn't.

She proceeded to accuse me of trespassing...as she stood in my drive!

I gave up on trying to be reasonable and headed back inside.

Well, I Have Been Saying This...

This was clipped from some newspaper stuffing around a set of keys received this week.  I'm not the type that goes for believing this stuff, but...
Mostly it seems to be the drivers.  It is hardly safe to be out on the roads any more.  They cut right in front of you, run stop signs, and drive down the middle of the road.  Just last week I took my turn stopping at a stop sign and watched in amazement as the truck in front of me made a U-turn at Five Corners...yikes!  Oh, and that drive down the middle of the road thing?  I had just made a left turn, pulling out of our street on to the main road...which happens to be Main Street...heading toward town when the pick-up truck coming up the hill veered in to the middle of the street.  I had to serve to the shoulder to avoid being hit.  He wasn't even texting.  He was looking right at me, like he was aiming for me or something.

And then there are the incompetents.  Evidently a homeowner needed to hook up to the town sewer system.  His contractor decided that it was okay to damage private property while doing the work.  The property belongs to a non-profit where I am the vice president.  I happened upon the mess while going for a Sunday walk.  A truck parked illegally on the property, stone walls damaged, tire ruts in mud when there used to be field growth, and dumped soil and tree branches.  To top it off, it's not only private property, but it is conservation land.  The contractor had also split a utility pole and that had to be replaced!  Met with the guy and hopefully, eventually, all will be well.  He tried to tell me that they had done us a favor.  What?

It snowed today.  I think it is pretty but I hate it.  Anyway, we got all the walks and drives shoveled - three times.  Pain in the...pain in everything.  We have back door neighbors and the foot of their driveway kind of crosses over our property and my driveway.  I shoveled my drive.  Then neighbor lady came out to shovel hers.  She left a little ridge of snow between the two.  Huh?  Why?  I had just cleared half the area.  Wouldn't it be easiest to just finish her half?  Why leave a 30 foot dividing ridge that was about 6 inches, give or take, wide?  I've only been nice to these people, never caused any trouble.  I wave when I pass them on the street, say hi when out walking.  She tries to avoid speaking to me.  She used to be real friendly.  What have I done?

See her?  My drive looks white as I finished before she started and it was still snowing.  My drive is between that long ridge of snow to her right and the stick marking the edge of my parking spot.  Why would anyone leave that ridge of snow?  The next time I went out to shovel, I shoveled the ridge away.  She hasn't shoveled since.  Must be angry that I cleared the ridge. 

In other wonderful news.  I just heard that we are to expect a blizzard on Tuesday.  OH JOY.
Maybe I'll take some pretty pictures.

Foolishness

This was posted on a piano technician's forum.  Does the US really think that crushing confiscated ivory will stop poaching?  I think not.

http://m.townhall.com/columnists/mikeshedlock/2013/11/17/us-crushes-6-tons-of-ivory-to-send-message-to-poachers-n1748005?utm_source=thdaily&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=nl

On Our Street

Our street is narrow and there are many spots where you must pull your car over to the very edge of the road and stop to let a second car pass in the opposite direction.  There are also a few twists and turns.

It's also a dead end.

Probably not a good route for a very large tour bus!

Yep, he's backing all the way out.

This must happen to him a lot as he was quite good at navigating in reverse.

Time the company springs for a new GPS.

Scary from Saturday

The arrow on this Google map...

Grant Circle on Route 128 in Gloucester

shows where some crazy person missed their exit from the rotary (Grant Circle) and decided to Back Up!

In the rotary! 

It's a rotary...go around again!

Nuts.

I still can't believe that someone backed up in a rotary.

More of Another Tech

I seem to be finding some innovative problem solving.

Today, as I was packing up a set of keys to be shipped back to 'Another Tech', I came across an interesting repair.  Why had I not noticed this while I was working on the new keytops?

Really?  You've got to be joking!

Obviously (hopefully) a field repair with nothing else(?) available?  I find this one hard to believe!  The key button, that raised area of the key, center frame, had split and had been glued back together with this bread wrapper clip-thingie glued on as a splint.

A bit better, not great, and it didn't work long-term

The above photo shows another key from the set with a somewhat more acceptable field repair.  You may notice, though, that this was a broken key and the repair did not hold.

Always carry some veneer.  It's stronger and looks eversomuchmore professional!

Stuck in the Past

It has very little to do with the photo of the front end of a Crosley.  The only thing relating the two is that I saw the Crosley on the same day as the following happened.

Skip's, our favorite burger and fries (Susie-Qs) joint is closing for the season today and since 'A' works today and we couldn't go, we went yesterday.  Actually, as we found out last year, dining there on closing day isn't good.  They run out of all the good stuff.  As it happens, yesterday they were out of both vanilla and coffee syrups.  We had to get black & white frappes instead of our favorites of either...yeah, vanilla or coffee.

But that's not what this post is supposed to be about...

We ran a lot of errands on our way to Skip's.  The timing and locations of those errands resulted in a trip up I-95 getting off at Rte. 113 to head into Newburyport.  Mom wanted to stop at "Oldies", an antique and junk shop.  So...off the exit and on to Rte. 113 east.  It starts as a four - laner (two each way) and after a couple traffic lights becomes High Street with one lane in each direction.  Now at this point I must say that there are the two opposing lanes each flanked by a bicycle lane, then on-street parallel parking.  As I was driving along that section, I heard a horn blaring.  What the heck?  Where was that coming from?  Then I caught a glimpse of a little Hyundai passing me on the right...in the bicycle lane!  NUTSO!!!  She, yes a 20ish woman, scooted that car right in between mine and the car I was so nicely following.  I couldn't believe it.  As we continued down High Street, Ms. Hyundai kept pulling ahead to tailgate the car in front and swerving into the bicycle lane like she was trying to pass them as well.  Finally, with a long blast of her horn...she did it again!  By now we had memorized her license plate...just in case.  I'd love to post that info here...probably shouldn't so I won't. So now the line up working from back to front...me, the second car she passed, Ms. Hyundai, more vehicles.  Then the second car she passed turned off High Street and I found myself, once again, behind Ms. Hyundai.  We eventually came to a stop at the traffic light at the top of Market Street.  Ms. Hyundai couldn't sit still.  Did she have some high energy rap music playing in her car?  She was bouncing all over the place.  The light changed to green and we were all off again..Ms. Hyundai swerving behind yet another vehicle.  I'd gone far past our destination and needed to turn down a side street and backtrack so I have no idea what eventually happened or where Ms. Hyundai finally went.  All the time we were hoping for a police car and there was not one in sight.  Never is when you want one, is there?

But what I'd totally forgotten, and what prompted the title to this post, is that among the three of us in our car there were three functioning cell phones.

Yep, we should have called her in.

Evening Chuckle

After working two days dealing with (foul language deleted) tourists, swarms of them, more than I ever want to see in one place again, particularly in the place where I'm working, I came home and checked my email. A nice update from my best neighbor friend in FL, some piano stuff, Scribb's clever comment on my last post, and this photo, sent by some family friends, titled "The Boat Goes In First".

Well, What a Lousy Afternoon

Today I was needed to drive my mother to see a new doctor. She didn't want to try to find the place. So why did she think that I would want to venture forth? Anyway, her appointment was for 2:30 in Salem. She told me it was at the Northshore Medical Center and that she had the directions from the secretary at the doctor's office. Okie-dokie. I googled a map and headed over to mom's place. Noting to my mother that the area would be a confusion of medical offices, I asked her for the exact address. She didn't have it. She said that she had been told just to head for Salem Hospital.

"What's the doctor's name?" I asked.

She didn't know. I saw trouble ahead.

"How are you going to know where to go? Where I should park? This will be a big area, mom!"

"I'll just ask someone, " she said.

Oh boy. Heading out of town, to a doctor whose name you don't know, at an unknown location.

In the car, I had a thought. She had called the office when trying to set up the appointment. Just get the cell phone out and call the office for more specifics. Nope, she didn't bring the phone number.

It was an uneventful drive to the Salem Hospital complex, but where to park? I aimed for an area near what appeared to be more office-y rather than hospital. We walked to the entrance and found mostly closed office doors. No names, nothing. We finally found an open door and my mom went in to see where she should be.

Just imagine the dialog. No doctor name. The lady referred her to the surgical reception area. A relatively short walk. Mom went in and talked to the receptionist and they told her that she needed to be in a building at the other end of the complex. They had called over and found which doctor was expecting her. Yay!

We walked and found the building. The doctor's names were listed next to the elevator doors.

"Did you find out the name from the last person you talked to?"

"Oh. No."

So we went in to the first office we came to and she went through the dialog again. We were sent to the third floor and finally connected with the correct office. Thankfully she was called right in and spent no more than ten minutes talking to the doctor, who told her that he didn't think she would need any tests other than some blood work. Off to find the lab in the hospital.

Got to the lab to find two large signs saying that you had to sign in with the receptionist before entering. Sheesh, where was the receptionist? In the opposite direction from the entrance, of course! Signed in with the receptionist and sat and waited. Mom was called to a little cubicle to answer questions. I could hear from where I was seated. She couldn't remember her mother's maiden name, so I went and sat with her to help with the answers. Then the woman asked for her PCP's name. A glitch. There are two doctors with the same name.

"Is his middle initial H or M?" she asked.

Now, who knows that information! We certainly didn't. I couldn't believe that this may prevent having a blood test!

Mom was finally cleared to head to the lab with her paperwork. She had to sign in there and we waited some more. By that time it was shift change. Sigh.

When we left the hospital area it was 4 p.m. We had left the house to start on this odd trip at 1:10 p.m.!

And to top it all off, she could have made the appointment at a closer location! One that she knew how to get to!

I started a new book during my waiting room stays. It's called, At Least in the City Someone Would Hear Me Scream.

I'm not happy. Of course it's been a while anyway.

Monday Madness

or...Grandma said the water was fine here!

'A' and I went on errands Monday morning. One stop was at our local Ace Hardware, also known as Smith Lumber. I only needed two items, a couple disposable foam paint brushes and a couple dozen screw 'L's. I knew where the brushes were and grabbed them first. I couldn't find the packages of screw 'L's so I asked an employee that I know.

"Do you have screw 'L's?"

"What?"

"Screw 'L's. You know, like screw hooks only shaped like an 'L'!"

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I thought you wanted to screw elves!"

Funny.

Then a gentleman in the same aisle said he was looking for small nuts.

"You found her."

So we got the brushes and we got the 'L's and we headed for the check out line. Oh my! Picture this...twin ladies, about 75 years old, each decked out in full length raccoon coats and tight knit caps, trying to return a vacuum cleaner that they had purchased some time ago and had decided that they weren't happy with...on their credit card, no store receipt, hauled it in in a laundry/grocery cart which was now blocking the aisle. They wouldn't accept a store credit. The manager was paged...just as Mr. ZZZZ arrived. Last we heard, from friends, Mr. ZZZZ and his daughter had a rather raucous food fight at a local restaurant. Quite honestly, most folks have been trying to avoid them in recent years. No wonder.

Another register opened and 'A' and I headed for it to get checked out. On our drive home we saw 'crutch lady' walking up Main Street. Carrying her crutch per the norm. 'A' turned to me, rolled her eyes, and asked, "What's up with people today?"

"It must be the water around here," I answered.
"Grandma always says the water is soooo good here, straight out of the tap."

Uh huh.

How Stupid Can They Be?

No surprise it's snowing. No surprise 'A' is supposed to be at work at 3 p.m., during the height of the storm, of course. By that time winds should be gusting to around 55 mph blowing the accumulated 5 - 6 inches of snow.

And I suppose it should be no surprise that the DPW, in their vast amount of wisdom, sent a sand/salt truck down our street spewing it's mixture on top of 2 inches of snow. No more than 5 minutes later followed by the plow, which neatly removed all that sand/salt to the edge of the road.

So much for watching the budget. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Longevity

I just love summertime. Sunshine and a nice ocean breeze. Windows open. Relax on the deck for lunch and enjoy THE NEIGHBOR'S DOG BARKING CONTINUOUSLY FROM 8 O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING UNTIL I LEFT THE HOUSE AT 3 P.M.!!!! Now that I'm back home, the neighbor is as well, and the dog has either quit barking or developed laryngitis. You see, now that school is back in, no one is home to keep poor doggy company all day. This WILL get resolved.

On a funnier note...how long should milk stay fresh?
We, meaning Amanda and I, went grocery shopping yesterday. Amanda bought a quart of milk amongst other things. I reminded her that she had an unopened quart still in the refrigerator. This morning while we were walking down to the Whistlestop Mall to get the newspaper, Amanda started spouting off about how nasty the cereal was that she had bought just yesterday. "Smells like dog food," she said. "When we get home YOU smell it and you'll see what I mean!" It really annoyed her that she would be throwing away an entire, expensive box of cereal after only eating one mouthful.

So, we got back home and as I was sitting reading the newspaper, Amanda strolled in with the open box of Special K Cinnamon and Pecan. I grudgingly took a sniff. Ehhh, not too bad, I thought. Smelled a bit weak on the cinnamon. Then I had a thought.
"Which milk did you use?"
"I don't know, I'll go check," said Amanda.
She came back and remarked that she thought it was the milk that was bad, not the cereal. The milk smelled bad and she didn't want to be the one to have to pour it down the drain!
Off I went to investigate.
Sure was the milk.
Sell by date: JUNE 30, 2008!

YUCK.

And in conclusion, here's a picture of our ficus.This beautiful braided tree was sent to us, last summer when my Dad died, by my friends in Florida. But what does one do with such a gorgeous tree when winter approaches? This guy likes a temperate climate. They will survive indoors but they don't like the change from humid summer to dryness in a winter heated house. The 'best bet for survival' solution became to haul it down to the workshop in the cellar. The lowest temperature there through the winter is 52°F and it isn't as dry as upstairs. Not much natural light though, even with placing it just below the tiny windows high in the cellar wall. It wasn't very happy and by March we were dubious about it's survival. Mid-April it was still struggling along but looked very pathetic so I decided to risk the low outdoor temps in favor of moderate days and higher humidity. After two very cold nights, we thought it had succumbed. We waited, fertilized, and watered, and watched. It recovered. So despite poor living conditions, we still have the ficus. It's leaves are smaller than last year, though. I think seeing it through another winter might be a challenge!

Almost Pitiful

Last week there was a teeny, green grasshopper hanging on to the antenna of my truck as I drove around town and even all the way to Gloucester and back. Sometimes he was only gripping with one leg, the others flailing in the wind and his little wings splayed and shimmering in the draft. Eventually, while my truck was parked, probably during the night sometime, he gave up and let go.

Unlike a certain person from my past. Seems my ex (you know, the one with the criminal harassment charge pending against him) tried to submit an application to be a volunteer with WHOA, Working to Halt Online Abuse. That's the organization in which I volunteer. For obvious reasons, his application was denied and he was told not to contact anyone within the organization. You'd think that he'd have better things to occupy his time rather than trying to be a nuisance to me. Pathetic. 6 years and still can't leave it alone.

Incompetence

or......the end of paying with frustration for a bit of fun.

The Old Firehouse Craft Fairs are expensive for table rental. Higher than most other fairs around. The reasons I haven't minded are because it's right here in town and it's indoors. No worries about inclement weather.

On the very negative side. Not only is it expensive to rent a table, it is one of the most poorly publicized events that I have ever seen/participated in/whatever. Most of the townies don't even know it exists, never mind any tourists. Any customers exist purely by accidental wandering in as they 'tour' all the shops in town.

As I said in the title of this post - incompetence.

And now....

I was reading the little 'agenda' section of the paper when I noticed the usual tiny mention of the crafts fair. The next is scheduled for August 2. I won't be there as I have been frantically working on more necklaces, some with autumn themes and some for Christmas/winter. They won't be dry in time. I was astonished when the newspaper said that the following fair would be on August 31. That's a Sunday rather than a Saturday. The problem is that we were all given a schedule of the fair dates and that schedule lists August 30, the Saturday. Must be a typo in the newspaper, I thought. So I called the woman (above blog title applicable) who is in charge.

And I was told...

I changed the date because I decided to rent out the place to someone else for the 30th.

Yes, I'm furious and I told her so. She had a prior commitment for usage IN PRINT. No notification of the change. NOTHING. I can't just switch to Sunday. I work that day. I will not give up a day's pay and pay for an exorbitantly overpriced table rental. I'll never make THAT much at an UNADVERTISED NON-PROMOTED craft fair.

Suppose I had personally rented that facility for a function, would she then 'go with a better offer' and merely say sorry to me and offer to refund my deposit? I can think of many, many words that I cannot put in print to describe what I think of the situation.

So, the next definite opportunity that I have to sell at that fair in Rockport will be Oct 11. Assuming she doesn't change that at her whim.

I may just say "to !##! with it and her", save my rental fees of $50 per fair and use the money for the big three day, indoor event in Essex next spring.

Yes, I am fuming - big time.

Do You Have All Your Oars in the Water?

I'm dubious about this woman....................

I got two more sets of keys today. One expected, the other a surprise. The surprise was from a non-tech. I don't normally take in key work from non-techs. It's too much of a hassle for the price of the job. The one time I agreed to it was near disaster. Unfortunately, the classified ads in the PTG Journal (professional journal) are available online. Convenient for tech happy piano techs and usually not a problem, for me, with the general public as they haven't a clue how to get keys out of their piano.

Anyway, this box arrives. It's nearly falling apart. I didn't recognize the name on the return address. I opened the box to find a set of grand piano keys jammed inside in every direction. Marvelous, I thought, can't reship finished keys like that, I'll have to find a better, bigger box. That irks me right from the start.

Then I found this note inside in an envelope. I'll intersperse my thoughts as I read it, in color (like this).

Hello Deborah (Couldn't spell my name correctly but managed to get the address right),

I thought it would take forever to figure out how to dismantle my piano to remove these keys. I hope I can remember where all those screws go when it's time to put it all back together. (Oh no, not a piano tech.....Oops, you should have kept them in order and labeled them - good luck)

Enclosed is a personal check for $135 for the resurfacing of these keys. (Wonderful, it's an old price. Hasn't been that for over a year. Hope you included contact info and now I'm going to start wasting work time calling you to straighten it out) If questions arise that require my attention, my home phone number is (SNIP). If I'm not there, use my answering service and I will get back to you promptly. (Please be out when I call. I don't want to chat. Let me just leave a message about the price discrepancy. Then you can call me and leave a message. Really, I don't want to talk to you.)

We have eight-year-old twins who are studying music, and each kid has his own piano. They will have to take turns practicing this week, poor kids. (You send keys, unannounced, with the wrong payment, from halfway across the states, and you expect them to be back in your piano in a week? Don't think so. There are five other customers ahead of you.) Maybe this is a good time to learn some duets. (And find out how all those less privileged one piano households manage to survive)

I really appreciate your effort in making our old piano more enjoyable to play. (Gee, thanks) What will you do with the old ivory you remove? Black market? (You didn't really ask that, did you? Yeah, it's from your piano, if I sell it on the black market and should be caught, I may implicate you as an accomplice. Seriously, if you thought that I were dealing in the black market, why would you do business with me? Huh.) Ebay? (not worth the trouble) Just wondering. (And now I'm wondering about YOU) Hope all goes well with your work, and you'll be able to get the keys back to us soon.

(Did you ever think that I may be dead? on vacation? have sold the business? your keys could have been sitting on a doorstep in the rain for weeks? Don't you think calling ahead just might have been a good idea? Yeesh, lady.)

And an update............

I called. I got her (drat). I kept it simple. Told her the price had changed over a year ago. She said to "trust her", she's putting the balance in the mail tomorrow. I told her that her keys were in the work line up, thanks, bye.

I still can't believe she said black market!