Twenty-nine

I have been diddling around for close to a YEAR trying to sell a VACANT LOT. The land was a gift to our Foundation from a hospital that was closing its doors and selling its assets. The land sat on our books as an asset for over three years. The lot was adjacent to the larger hospital property which sat abandoned, forsaken and unsold until fifteen months ago.

In late 2006 the previously abandoned property was sold to a developer. All of the sudden our little piece of property had interested buyers. And what’s better than an asset sitting on your books? Why yes! Very good! Cold hard cash that you can turn around and give to people who need it! So up on the block it went.

One of the bids came from a lovely organization, also a not for profit. Their bid was not the high bid, but our Board gave special consideration to the fact that they are a charitable organization with a mission similar in nature to ours. All was right with the world and we expected to close in ninety days.

Except the original letter of intent to purchase was signed last April. The Executive Director of the purchasing organization couldn't get his Board to play nicely (let’s call him asshat who can’t control his Board shall we?). The process drug on for months. Special meetings were called, ultimatums were given, ridiculous attorneys fees mounted.

Last September I had some correspondence from the Sate letting me know I had until March 1st of 2008 to renew the property tax exemption for the VACANT LOT. Let’s just say such a filing is a gigantic pain in the ass and leave it at that shall we? So I said to myself, “Surely we will not still own this property come the first of the year!”, and stuck the paperwork in a drawer.

But I also set the filing as a task in Outlook, and that fucker turned up January 1st like a bad penny. And we still “owned” the land. So I drug the paperwork out again and took a closer look. Bottom line? No fucking way could I spin getting this thing exempted again. Because a vacant lot? Serves no charitable purpose. (And you’re looking at someone who has a way with words, I’m just sayin’.)

At this point our attorney is almost daily assuring me that a contract is just around the corner, not to worry. I asked our attorney what I should do about the filing for the State and he said "Nothing". So back into the drawer went the paperwork.

Finally, last week, (thank the sweet baby Jesus) we got a signed contract and the earnest money was deposited in escrow. (Cue angels singing.) And I promptly sent all the property tax exemption paperwork over to asshat who can’t control his Board, because THEY were going to put a parking lot on the vacant lot. So that the DISABLED people they serve could better reach their fine institution in comfort and safety. You know, a somewhat more charitable purpose than a VACANT LOT sitting as an asset on our books.

So imagine my dismay when the first call I got Wednesday morning was from asshat who can’t control his Board telling me that well gee, his attorney said “we” had to do the filing since "we" owned the property January 1st. Not only that, but “we” should also draft a letter to accompany the filing informing the State of the impending sale. WTF?

I reminded asshat who can't control his Board that as an ASSET SITTING ON OUR BOOKS, I was fairly sure the property would not receive an exemption. Perhaps under these circumstance they could ask for an extension? He mentioned that the paperwork from the State was dated last September. Oh no he didn't! I replied that I had no fucking inkling last September that we would still OWN the VACANT LOT on the first of the year!

And then asshat faxed all the shit back to me. SIGH. So I looked it over again. Still a gigantic pain in the ass; needing financials and 990s and audits attached. SIGH. It was 9:00 in the morning and I needed a Xanex and a Bloody Mary. The End.

As crappy days go...

I'm to worn out from having to say "you've got to be fucking kidding me" eighty gazillion times yesterday. So I will simply say that Madame Queen gave me an award.

(I don't know what's cool in your neck of the woods, but I think my daughters might disagree with this award just a wee bit.) I'm supposed to pass on the bloggy goodness, but you know what I think would be cool? To give this award to the person who can tell me how to get my "100" fucking things "about me" in my side bar without, you know, an actual list showing up.

So how about it you people with mad blogging skills, can you help a girl out?

GNO: A Re-Cap in Pictures

Stand down everyone! The audit is office related. I work for a Foundation; we have an audit done once a year. Yes, we PAY someone to come in and put us through holy hell. Nevertheless, much paperwork and math related nonsense must be produced by yours truly. And it sucketh mightily. Especially when you ...um... sort of forget that they're coming you know TODAY.

But fear not good people. I had the frivolity of last night to sustain me. We had a wonderful time.

There was laughter...

And food...

and um, wine...

and presents!

We all feel better now, thanks for asking.

Holy Crap, the Audit!

I'm really glad I did this last night:



Because our audit starts today.

GNO

I have my GNO girls coming over tonight. (I've written about these gals before.) We haven't gotten together in long time. Someone got laid off, someone lost their mother after a long illness, someone found out their significant other was a pathological liar. Calls have been made, cards and flowers have been sent, a few visits have occurred; but the large group has not been able to get together for months because life has been kicking the shit out of us.

I set the table yesterday. I made Chicken Tortilla Soup. And got some wine chilling. They'll bring salad, bread, appetizers and dessert. The Saint will be on hand for serving and dishes.

I believe the fellowship of a shared meal can be healing. I hope it works tonight.

Observation

I went to the grocery store today.



I saw:

An older gentleman in the express lane. Purchasing four grapefruits and a bunch of yellow daisies.

A young lady wearing a gorgeous red pea coat. Buying a large bottle of pomegranate juice and a package of gum.

A guy in gym shorts behind me. With two boxes of whole grain cereal, organic produce, a free range chicken and two enormous bars of Hershey chocolate.

I wonder what they thought of my wedge of brie sitting next to my brick of Velveeta.

Re-Cap in Pictures, Part I

Sorry for the delay folks, but I started reading The Other Boleyn Girl (by Philippa Gregory) on the flight home and I could not put it down. SOOOO Good!

This is the view from the bedroom into the sitting room. There were amazing wooden shutters that kept daylight out of the room (good for sleeping in!) but you could still hear the waves breaking on the beach.

Oh, and the balcony was breathtaking.

With wonderful banquettes for napping.

Or having your morning coffee!

There was quite a lovely view.

There were two monstrous television sets that we never turned on once.

The turn down service included chocolate covered strawberries

and bottle service. (Whee!)

To be continued...

My body is here...

You know those people who come home from vacation relaxed, rejuvenated and refreshed? I'm not one of them. I come home pissy and exasperated.

I walk around the house moaning and sighing as I unpack, do laundry and re-stock the fridge. I stagger around the office moaning and sighing in shoes, pantyhose and for crying out loud a BRA.

And do I get sympathy? Hell no.

I'll be back with pictures. Oh, and tales of the excursion I’ll call “Survivor: Gilligan’s Island”. But not until I piss and moan a little more. Because damn it, it's still winter here!

I know that I am

I was out-of-pocket for a few days and I don't want it to slip by that the Saint's birthday was last Friday.

I love Ben Folds. I love this song. It makes me think of him every time I hear it.

The Luckiest

I don't get many things right the first time
In fact, I am told that a lot
Now I know all the wrong turns, the stumbles and falls
Brought me here

And where was I before the day
That I first saw your lovely face?
Now I see it everyday
And I know

That I am
I am
I am
The luckiest

What if I'd been born fifty years before you
In a house on a street where you lived?
Maybe I'd be outside as you passed on your bike
Would I know?

And in a white sea of eyes
I see one pair that I recognize
And I know

That I am
I am
I am
The luckiest

I love you more than I have ever found a way to say to you

Next door there's an old man who lived to his nineties
And one day passed away in his sleep
And his wife; she stayed for a couple of days
And passed away

I'm sorry, I know that's a strange way to tell you that I know we belong
That I know

That I am
I am
I am
The luckiest
- Ben Folds
"The Luckiest"

Happy Birthday Old Man!
Love, Fannie

Just wondering

As I was entering my building this morning, a gentleman I'd not seen before was headed out. He was coming from the cafe and he was holding a container of food in his left hand with an apple balanced on top. He was using a cane with his right hand.

I could tell at a glance that the need for a cane was not due to an injury; rather it was something he had utilized for some time. Nevertheless, there were two sets of double doors between him and the parking lot. I stopped and asked if I could get the door for him. He replied that no, he could manage just fine.

He wasn't struggling, and I didn't want to press the issue, so I continued on towards my office. As we approached each other he said "Thank you very much!", and as we passed added, "That was so very nice of you to offer!" His tone that implied that, perhaps, offers of assistance were not all that common.

It made me wonder. Do we walk through life without really "seeing” other people? Or can we simply not be bothered to lend a hand?

Sadie Hawkins

The Sadie Hawkins dance was Saturday night.

Precious Youngest looked beautiful.

Still Quirky

Ah yes, still here, still quirky. I did this meme a few weeks ago, but I got tagged again by New Diva. And because I heart her I'm giving you a few more of my quirks and habits.

• When I cook, I like theme music. Mexican? How about some Gypsy Kings. Italian? Has to be Mob Hits.
• On the rare occasions when I forget to put on earrings I feel naked all day.
• I have never gotten a ticket for rolling a stop sign. I’m not sure I EVER come to a complete stop.
• When a cheese course is listed on the dessert menu? I swoon.
• I do not like the "new car" smell. At all.
• I never hit "snooze". Ever. I get the fuck up already.

If you are so inclined, consider yourself tagged.

Friday Funny

Scene: Kitchen, 7:13 this morning. Yes people, that’s right, 7:13 AM! Candle called “Amish Cookie” burning on the counter because the kitchen still smells has a lingering aroma from dinner last night. The same candle I had burning last night for the same reason.

The Saint: smiling, and not looking at all in fear for his life: “You really through me for a loop last night.”

Me: glaring, daring him to continue speaking DIRECTLY TO ME (Note time of day)

The Saint: still smiling, WTF?: “When I got back from walking the dog last night I thought maybe you baked some cookies. Or even a strawberry cake.”

Me: slowly making mental connection- me?– baking? – cookies? – scented candle! “BWAHAAHAAAHAAHAA!”

Me: wiping my eyes, gasping for air: “Strawberry CAKE?” “BWAHAAHAAHAA!”

Why yes, you may congratulate me!

I'm an Aunt again!! Twice!! Sib #5 and his wife are the proud parents of twin boys. They couldn't stop her labor, and one of the boys was breach, so she had a c-section yesterday afternoon. Everyone is doing well.

The babies were six weeks early and are in the NICU. They are small; B. at five pounds and S. at four pounds thirteen ounces. They are receiving oxygen, however they did not have to be intubated. All of this is very good news as my SIL has been on full bed rest due to premature labor since early December.

So if you see a crazy lady walking around beaming and humming softly under her breathe? It might be me!

I'm not the crafty type

I'm going to be out-of-pocket next week when Valentine's Day rolls around. So as we speak a package of goodies is on its way to the Precious Oldest at Princeton on the Prairie.

Nothing say love like a box wrapped in brown paper.

Fat Tuesday

“So, what are you giving up for Lent?” is right up there with “So, what’s your New Year’s Resolution?” in my book. A nosy and presumptuous question. Yet, “None of your damn beeswax” hardly seems an appropriate response given that we’re entering the Lenten season. (My favorite response is: “I’m not sure, minding my own business was my New Year’s resolution and it’s taking up all of my time.”)

Now some casual observers might suggest that I give up cussing like a motherfuckingsailor swearing; but that my friends, is just not possible. I will, however, observe the Catholic traditions and teachings of Lent. Acts of penitence and abstinence are things I will do willingly. I will go to Mass tomorrow and have the sign of the cross marked on my forehead with ashes. I won’t eat meat on Ash Wednesday or on Fridays during Lent. I’ll fast on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday.

On days when I crave a coffee or a bag of chips, I’ll stop and put the money I would have spent into the alms can. The same with the change that finds its way daily into my pockets. I won’t listen to the radio in the car (drives my family INSANE!) and use the time to pray. (I am not a perfect person, I need the help.) And I SWEAR I will try my best not to snap at anyone before eight in the morning.

I hope to emerge on Easter with a lighter heart, a clean spirit.

Inertia

"A body in motion tends to remain in motion, a body at rest tends to remain at rest."
Sir Isaac Newton

So it seems unless some powerful external force shows up pretty quick like, I'm not going to be getting much done. I spent the better part of the weekend moaning about all the "stuff” I had to do; and then NOT doing it. It was not a conscious decision so much as an inability to make my ass leave the couch.

I DID manage to go to the bookstore. Thanks to your many wonderful suggestions, I’ll be spending some quality time getting to know a few new people.

A letter to my Uterus

Editor’s Note: I don’t think I have any many man type readers. I don’t generally write about the kinds of things that would interest them. I do however have some stalkers lurkers who may in fact have a penis. So if you are of the male persuasion, in the name of all that is holy, STOP READING NOW.

Dear Uterus,

I am well and truly OVER YOU. If I were any good at math I would tell you the number of times over the past thirty one years and five months that we have played out this little drama. But I’m not, so I can’t. Suffice it to say we’ve been there, done this.

I refuse to be held hostage in my house on day three. I refuse to go to sleep using two tampons, a maxi pad, and lying on a bath towel. Only to awaken at 2 AM in the middle of a goddamn crime scene. I say ENOUGH!

There were some good times. I will give you due and proper credit for the months you cradled my babies in your loving embrace. Even for those babies who left you too soon, I acknowledge it was never your fault. For that I say "Thank you".

Those heroic deeds are in fact why, when we were at this same crossroads four years ago, I did NOT have you obliterated by hysterectomy and instead chose Endometrial Ablation.

And how do you repay me? By regenerating your fucking lining? Are you kidding me? I expect this kind of behavior from my liver. (Expect it? Hell, I APPLAUD it.) But to you I say “Oh HELL no!”

In light of your recent antics I must respectfully request that you cease and desist with the sanguination and fist sized clots. If you do not, I will have no choice but to make an appointment with Dr. C. to have your permanent residence changed from my abdominal cavity to a bin marked Medical Waste.

Thank you for your consideration.

Best regards,

Fannie