Should We Stay or Should We Go🎶🎶🎶

Okay.  So, I know it’s been a day or two since my last post 😉 and I wasn’t actually planning a post today ‘cuz it’s crazy busy for us right now, but…who the hell could resist?

Not I.

You all know how much I like a good ‘saga’  😂 😭 😓

Especially about cars.  Or moving.  Or houses.  Or other Shit-N-Stuff.


So…after all the blood, sweat, and tears, we shed before, during, and after, moving into our current home, we are considering selling.

Yup…2 years, 6 months in, picking up and moving again is actually being considered.

Nutz! 😵   Looney!  😱   Coocoo for Cocoa Puffs! 🐒


Two reasons really.

The first, to be closer to my recently transplanted Mom, who is, apparently, one of those lucky people I’ve heard about when it comes to adventures in moving.  Her pack and move went smoothly.  Her house behaved when she moved in and didn’t reach out and break her leg or rain down through her light fixtures from the floor above.


Remember my crying lights?

She has made a beautiful home for herself…and is quite content to remain where she is.  But, we are finding that even a mere 20 minute/10 mile distance, is 15 minutes too far!

{Hmmm, note to self…A Drive Too Far…Book?  Movie?  Copyright infringement?  Carry on self…}

The second, as important as the first, is because our beautiful Ms. Sadie needs a place to safely run and play in her own backyard, and we cannot give that to her.


Because we cannot fence it in 😲


Bureaucratic Bullshit 🚧

We have a gorgeous back yard…

Northfield in the fall

What…don’t believe that’s mine?

What—everrrrrrrrrrrr  👀

Forget the mountains then.

Oh for Pete’s sake…take out the barn if it bothers ya!

Okay Okay (ya picky bitches), take out the fence, the trees, the other barn, and the rolling field in the background and you’ve got my yard.


Anyhoo….because Virginia’s disclosure laws are a  j o k e, not one of the half dozen professionals involved in buying real estate, not to mention the previous owner, felt it necessary to inform us that this lot is one of the highest impacted lots in the neighborhood, rendering our little slice of Eden…all but USELESS.


There is a 60′ (yes, that is SIXTY) gas company easement from the back of the property towards the house and runs the entire width of the tad over a 1/3 acre lot.  From our way of thinking, that should have been mentioned by SOMEONE in the 2 month buying/closing process yeah?


Add to that 60′ another 20′ for the build line which runs from the structure towards the back of the yard, making the total depth/width of what we cannot add to, plant on, or change in a way that would impede….a whopping 80′.

EIGHTY #$#$%#$ FEET  😖 😭 😕

Even though the gas company could work with us on a fee based waiver, they won’t.

But Wait!  There’s More  (oh goody)

There are also easements from the county that cannot be waivered.

One is a 16′ drainage easement, running back to front, the entire length of the property, but it’s on the side property line, so we didn’t give that one much thought.  At the time.  Not until we had to.  And we had to when we wanted to put a storage shed out there.  On the side.  Away from the gas easement.  Ya know, close to the garage and stuff.

Ummmm….Not gonna happen  🚫

Then {and I chuckle here} there is that all too common, everybody else must have one…FLOOD DAM FAULT LINE!  OR FAULT DAM FLOOD LINE!  OR DAM FLOOD FAULT LINE!  OR SOME DAMNED LINE GOING DIAGONALLY THROUGH THE ENTIRE BACK YARD!!

You got one, right?  And you?  And you, and you?  And you over there?  Everybody?  ‘Cause I’m thinking it’s so damned prolific as to be down right common-place.  Like we all got grass so why point out the grass?  Ain’t that why I’ve never heard of this effin’ thing?  Ain’t it?

What the hell is happening?????????????  😱

The only friggin floods that I have ever heard of around here….were inside my damned house and that fault line didn’t help one daggone bit!!  (el squat-o)

Did I say this made me chuckle?

I lied  😫

Of course, we wouldn’t do it if we didn’t think we’d get a decent enough return to buy another.  The market is good right now, the rates are still low, people may be looking to get into a place before the next school year….all good things right?

So I ask you…

🎶 Should we stay or should we go 🎶

(sorry, I can’t help singing it…lol)

Oh geez…after all that, I forgot to mention why I even began this post.  While we muse over the possibility of listing (we’re about 98% there to be honest), we figured we’d do what we always do in this situation…invest more blood, sweat, and tears, not to mention 💰, into getting our imperfect 🏠 perfect so the next 👸 of the newly perfected 🏰 won’t have to lift a friggin’ finger or spend an effn’ dime!

‘Cause that’s how we role…we Hernandezeseses (Hernadezi?)

We buy, we fix, we do……..and we move.  So we can then…buy old and broken, fix to new and pretty, sell to others who don’t have to do a damned thing…just so we can buy old and broken, fix to new and pretty….blah de blah de blah!

In that vein…
We have had the fireplace that hasn’t worked since the day after we moved in, fixed.
We had the Jacuzzi tub’s leaky-ass faucets that we haven’t touched since the first time we went to use it and didn’t because it leaked, repaired.
We’re giving our wood floors a facelift so they don’t offend the next matriarch with their little Sadie scratches.
We’re resurfacing our pinkish, post-form, laminate countertops that somehow were good enough for me, but certainly will put off today’s savvy buyers looking for the trendier granite because ‘It’s so shiiiiny’.

And I’ve saved the best for last…

and the hardest for me…

the die-hard DIY’er:

Hiring someone to do what I do, and do well is tough. But time, old shoulders, bad, up close & personal, eyesight, added to my increased lack o’ patience, has dictated that this time around…we must bite the proverbial and hire a pro.

You all know me and my history with hiring professionals.

Though you know I pride myself in doing my due diligence, you also know it has gotten my leg broken, my house flooded, my toothbrush packed with the toilet brush, and my car dying at 70 MPH on Interstate 91 in New Haven.

Shall we agree that you know this Wonder Woman of Wacky Workmen?

Okay then…we’re off.

We hired a ‘Pro” to paint the interior of our 4BR, 3BA home, top to bottom, head to toe, and everything in between.  The references were stellar. The estimate reasonable. The time frame – 7 days. Perfect.

That should have been my first clue!

When. Will. I. Learn?

Nothing is perfect, nor apparently, what it seems!

I’m getting ahead of myself…let’s see.  To be pro-active, we removed all wall décor, switch plates, outlet covers, electronics, all items in/on/around furniture, packed everything in boxes, moved all furniture to middle of rooms to be covered, placed all non-necessary furnishings, boxes, small items, etc., in the garage, took up all rugs, and basically had the house ‘paint-ready’ for the start date.  Oh, and we moved into my mother’s to give them free reign to only have to cover stuff once and not worry about finishing one room at a time.  The house was theirs.  They had to do nothing but cover, patch, sand, and paint.

Two painters began on Monday the 6th.  The owner’s son who is taking over the business, and his side kick with 25 years under his belt, cut-in and first coat, guy.

Come Saturday, the 11th, one was left and the other one gone.  I fired the side-kick for lack of production and sloppy work.  His smoke breaks alone used half his hours and all of his work needed to be re-done.

He blamed the paint.  I blamed the painter.  I win.

Boom!  You’re outta here! 

I was told he would be replaced with a more professional side kick, but as of today, the 17th, there is still but one.

Mr Painter Man

Who I call IMA

IMA fix it – IMA gonna do it – IMA be here late tomorra – IMA sorry – IMA IMA IMA

By end of business today, there will have been a total of 11 painting days.

Know what’s done?  Hah…stop that laughing.  Wanna know?


This is still my downstairs…11 days later

Know what else?

There are 3 walls upstairs that need to be redone.  But I told IMA to save that for dessert cause I needed his ass downstairs in the kitchen!  I’ve got a counter top being redone on MONDAY!!

I even returned the remaining 6 gallons of my accent color, a beautiful Crushed Oregano green, for IMA because he keeps blaming the paint…I changed my design for him!


Does this color scare you?  It’s on my front door, which I painted, without trouble

 What the hell is wrong with me???  IMA STUPID!

Know what I’m doing right now?

😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 etc etc etc

Why bother going through all of this some might ask.  Especially when my house always looks good whether trendy or not.  Always up to date, clean, and comfy.  Homey!

Because Lord knows, today’s modern and discerning buyer would no doubt, walk into a home with red in the kitchen and yellow in the living room; green in the bathroom and a cloud painted blue sky ceiling in the bonus room, would run screaming into the street for the horror!

None of which I put on the walls but was perfectly fine with it until the day I decided to change it.

Boy oh Boy…we can’t expect someone else to think that way now can we?

Or so the real estate professionals tell me. After all, this is only the 6th house we will have sold, so how would I know anything about what sells and what doesn’t?

So…next week, it’ll be Mr. Painter-man who best have my kitchen done by tomorrow (or else ) and the counter-top crew.  That, should be an interesting day  😂

🎶 🎶 We Should’a Stayed and Let Him Go 🎶 🎶


From One Boomer to Another…yikes!

1966 – 2016

1966 : Long hair
2016:  Longing for hair

1966 : KEG
2016:  EKG

1966 : Acid rock
2016:  Acid reflux

1966 : Moving to  California  because it’s cool
2016:  Moving to  Arizona  because it’s warm

1966 : Trying to look like Marlon Brando or Liz Taylor
2016:  Trying NOT to look like Marlon Brando or Liz Taylor

1966 : Seeds and stems
2016:  Roughage

1966 : Hoping for a BMW
2016:  Hoping for a BM

1966 : Going to a new, hip joint
2016:  Receiving a new hip joint

1966 : Rolling Stones
2016:  Kidney Stones

1966 : Screw the system
2016:  Upgrade the system

1966 : Disco
2016:  Costco

1966 : Parents begging you to get your hair cut
2016:  Children begging you to get their heads shaved

1966 : Passing the drivers’ test
2016:  Passing the vision test

1966 : Whatever
2016 : Depends

And…just in case you weren’t feeling old enough, this will certainly change things.

Each year the staff at Beloit College in Wisconsin puts together a list to try to give the faculty a sense of the mindset of this year’s incoming freshmen.

Here’s this year’s list:

  • The people who are starting college this fall across the nation were born in 1998.
  • They are too young to remember the space shuttle blowing up.
  • Their lifetime has always included AIDS.
  • Bottle caps have always been screw off and plastic.
  • The CD was introduced 7 years before they were born.
  • They have always had an answering machine.
  • They have always had cable.
  • They cannot fathom not having a remote control.
  • Popcorn has always been cooked in the microwave.
  • They never took a swim and thought about Jaws.
  • They can’t imagine what hard contact lenses are.
  • They don’t know who Mork was or where he was from.
  • They never heard: “Where’s the Beef?”, “I’d walk a mile for a Camel”, or “de plane, Boss, de plane.”
  • They do not care who shot J. R. and have no idea who J. R. even is. Mc Donald’s never came in Styrofoam containers.
  • They don’t have a clue how to use a typewriter.

Do you feel old yet?

In the blink of an eye…

Last post was a week until…
This post is a week gone since…
In the blink of an eye it’s over
Last post I showed you where…
This post I’m showing you why…
In the click of a button it’s forever


1.)  Human Fun & Games

(Hover over photo or click on it for captions)


2.)  Nature Au Naturale


“Will ya looky there Junior…them’s called bipeds. If’n it t’were huntin’ season, I’d show ya how to cook ’em real good in lots o’butter!”


“Hey Ground Walker! Can’t you read?? You can’t park here! Just look at ’em Ralph…think they own the joint!’




“Good grief, can’t fly ANYWHERE around you bitches!”


“Oooooh, look at that jet Pops!”


“That ain’t no jet kids…that’s your cousin George”


“Ma?  Where ya going Ma?”


“Louise, get back here!”


“No worries Pops…I’ll get her.”


“Jeez Louise…can’t a fella visit his relatives?”


“Hey Georgie…you can come visit me. I’m free as a bird tonight. Dinner?”


“Whassat? Let me just clean my ears, thought you invited me to dinner.”


“Well, alrighty then! I’ll just hop, skip, and a….


…juuuuuuuump on over sweet thang!”


Random man / bird fly by


Random man caused fly away


“I AM…’nuff said”


“Oh he’s SUCH a show off!”


“Hey…if I got it flaunt it right?”










“Really? He’s this desperate? I’m BAIT not dinner!  The bird brain!!”






…that tickled ma belly!


“I don’t get the whole beach thing Dorrie, do you?”


“No, me either Handsome. Why hang out in all that sandy muck when you can lounge around with me surrounded by all this love stuff?”


“Gee, I wonder if he’s noticed I’ve picked out the wedding bouquets? Oh Handsooooome? Wanna play Peek a Love-Dove?”


“Handsome? Handsome? Hmmmm, I guess he noticed…that CHICKEN!”


3.)  Art…Is Where You Feel It

(click on a circle for captions)

Thanks for coming along…I do hope you enjoyed.

Next time it’s sand and surf, then worshiping the heavens




Sea Bird Poem 1

I spy with my beady eyes something on the beach

Sea Bird Poem 2

But what I spy I cannot lie is not something to eat!

Sea Bird Poem 3

What is this crap you’ve left behind on this beach I come for dinner?

Sea Bird Poem 4

If I did that to you humans FAT you’d soon be a whole lot thinner!

Sea Bird Poem 5

Nasty things…

Sea Bird Poem 6

…you human beings

Sea Bird Poem 7

Yeah I said that out loud

Sea Bird Poem 8

You’re selfish leeches who ruin our beaches instead of feeling proud!

Sea Bird Poem 9

Now I spy with my beady eyes something that belongs

Sea Bird Poem 10

And if in fact it’s still intact I’ll eat it all day long

Sea Bird Poem 11

And when it’s gone I’ll move along and leave my trash behind

Sea Bird Poem 12

The difference being what you are seeing is what you want to find!

Sea Bird Poem 13

So HU-MAN next time you pan my table for your treasure

Sea Bird Poem 14

Just bear in mind that trash you find brings years of joy and pleasure!

Sea Bird Poem 16

As a guest you are a pest and if you keep this up

Sea Bird Poem 17

I will fly high in the sky and aim right for your cup!

Sea Bird Poem 18

So be like me and leave the sea and beaches free of litter

Sea Bird Poem 19

For if not I’ll take my shot and trust me I’m no glitter shitter!

Home is where you learn to walk


Like riding a bike…once you learn how…you don’t forget.

Choose not to, sure.  But you don’t forget.

When I was a girl I used to walk everywhere.  I would stomp with purpose in my Wonder Bread bag covered shoes to school in the winters, hoping to get the bags off and stowed before the LL Bean boot-wearing kids could see them.

I’d march, like a good little soldier, the kiddie version of a 50 yard mile to church on Sunday, fiddling with the all too popular, bang-holding, enormous, white, clip-on bow my mother insisted I wear.  One that made my hair sit pregnant and waiting to pop its clip from atop my head, and in doing so, birthing my bangs back onto my forehead where they belonged!  The post clip-on years saw my 9 to 14 year old self, stomp the yard the longest 1/4 mile known to adolescents…especially on Catechism Saturdays, where God’s own wicked witch of the north ruled with an iron fist!

The better walking days were when I was old enough to sashay and glide; take my time meandering and strolling, to the place where all good things happen.  Overstreet.  Which, for those who don’t know, is our far north yank-speak for Downtown.  I could spend my fifty cent allowance buying nickle candy at the Economy Store, making sure to save the quarter I needed for the Sat’dy matinee a couple doors down at the Savoy.  And often times, I’d even have enough to stop at The Candy Kitchen for a creamie on the way home, if that’s what the gang wanted to do.

In the pre-bicycle summers, walking to the pool was the equivalent my now-self walking 5 miles on the huff and puff scale.  I’ve actually checked since then and know now it was just a hair shy of a mile…but it was the last half that was a killer.  Or so it seemed at the time. And looking back…having a bike didn’t improve that hill any…not one lick!  I don’t think I managed to stay ON the bike the whole way up but once, and only then because I rode that hill like it was a Donkey Kong trail, without the ladders!  Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.  It was easier to push it (or leave it home).  Besides, kids pushing bicycles up that hill was just the way of it…until the 10-speed arrived.  YeeHaw…what an invention.  Not that I ever had one, but boy could those kids ride that hill like it was nothing!

Our’s was a small town; a good, walking town for a kid when you come right down to it. Nestled in a little valley surrounded by the Green Mountains; a college town without acting like a college town because we didn’t really sport the kinds of places college kids like to hang.  And those we did have, the cadets managed to get thrown out of more often than not, so it was really just us town folk most of the time.

I loved walking that town, and I know it’s from walking that town that I feel so drawn to the beauty in everyday things that I often take pictures of.  Imagine walking down the street where you live, and everywhere you look, there’s a mountain, or a brook, or a river. Walk to the end of that street and you can chose to go straight over the footbridge, crossing the river towards downtown and what adventures lie there.  Or left over the tracks towards one of your schools or a shortcut to your friend’s house, the side street tree lined and leaf covered.  Or better yet, turn right and walk to where the pavement ends and the dirt begins.  Fields full of wild flowers and cows; promises of swimming holes and tire swings, and mountains as far as the eye can see.

All the time looking up.  All the time thinking…I want to live in those mountains.  I want to hear the brooks run and the smell the spring mud; feel the snow tickle as it falls on my face, and crunch under my feet for as long as I live.

I no longer live in that town.

But that town lives in me.  I take it with me everywhere, as I take all those things I fell in love with there too.

It’s the peace I reach for when I can find none where I am.

No matter where I hang my hat, my  heart remains there…in my little town.  Where walking the streets is not a profession…it’s a path to connection.  To God, to community, to nature, but most importantly, to oneself.

When I need it, I put on my boots and hit the road and remember.  I remember to keep my ears open, my eyes wide, and my mind quiet.  I remember to be thankful for some of the absolute best memories of my life…and more so, to be thankful for giving me the mountains my mind ran away to; where I’d sit under a glorious burnt orange tree while it bathed in the red-gold light of a late fall sun…for the absolute worst of my life.

The little town where I learned to walk; to never take for granted the beauty in the simple things; to accept with gratitude, the gifts it gave me every day; and learned too, the true understanding of what it is…the power…to have a place to call home.

Northfield in the fall

My town, where I learned to walk


(photo by Carol of Carol’s View of New England on blogspot)

More or Less is More of Less…only MoreSo

Civilization at the end of 2015

• Our Phones – Wireless
• Cooking – Fireless
• Cars – Keyless
• Food – Fatless
• Tires –Tubeless
• Dress – Sleeveless
• Youth – Jobless
• Leaders – Shameless
• Relationships – Meaningless
• Attitudes – Careless
• Babies – Fatherless
• Feelings – Heartless
• Education – Valueless
• Children – Mannerless
• Country – Godless


Government is – CLUELESS

And our Politicians are – WORTHLESS

I am scared – Shitless!

Ain’t it just – PRICELESS?


Is there a Q in Creation?

Hello Hello!

And Happy New Year!

It’s been almost 3 months since I last laid fingers on this spot and quite frankly, I’m stumped as to why.  It’s not as though nothing has been going on in my life; not like I couldn’t have found something to regale you with.  But I didn’t, so there it is.  What to do, what to do?

My Quandry

It’s me and not what’s going on in my life, that is the…

queller of quills that once quivered in quickness as they quilted quality quarters in the quest of her quair; chock-full of the queenly and quintessentially queer, the quacky and quaggy and quixotically quaint.

It is me and me alone who can say…

quiescence remains in this quaffer’s quaich. What’s quashing that quorum of quarrels, quibs, and quips that querimoniously queue up in the quar of my gray- matter quag; quit of its quant?

As it is also me, the once…

quartermaster, now turned querulous quester, who is lost in quassation.  A quat, a quidam, a word-quean, bereft of her quean-dom; whose quiritation quickens toward quotidian.








Hence the exercise in the little used and under appreciated


A little warm up to get the juices flowing.



For if this does not work…

I’m off to the Zees


Is there a Z word for HELLA-NO?

[I looked it up]


Wish me luck  🙂



It was there all along…

The Daily Post Weekly Photo Challenge this week is: (Extra)ordinary  –  Mundane and meaningful objects. Beautiful everyday things. This week, surprise us with something or someone (extra)ordinary

Seeing the world through a lens is as second nature to some of us as changing our underwear.

Would you leave the house without changing your underwear?

No…nor I think, would you leave the house without your third eye…correct?

Anyway…for people like us, (the underwear changing kind) seeing the Extra in the Ordinary is really just a matter of perspective.

We see it everywhere in every thing…eventually.

Sometimes, it’s in the reason we stop and shoot.

And sometimes, it’s in the 5th or 10th or 30th shot with minute changes in a particular subject.

But most of the time (at least for me) it’s often just a change of perspective…moving my focus, moving my feet, or just plain, being moved.

Below are some of my photos that I believe are Extra-ordinary. Not because they are great photos, because they are not. Some are pretty good, some are damned good, but some are just okay.

And I’m good with that. What I appreciate about all of them, is that by changing my perspective, choosing to shoot in less than favorable conditions, or focusing on the emotion of them and therefore hopefully translating it to the picture, more often than not, bring out the Extra in some of the more everyday, mundane, and ‘it’s just a sunset’, pictures.

Thanks for looking and here’s to more of the Extra in all of our Ordinaries.

And by all means, click on the photos to get the ‘extra’ full size effect.  lol

Cheers 🙂

When a beautiful ocean sunset...

When a beautiful ocean sunset…

...become 'extra' for the frond silhouette

…becomes ‘extra’ for the frond silhouette


When a lone fishing boat surrounded by sea birds becomes ‘extra’ for the blanket of morning sea mist


Or when a lonely cabin in the middle of acres of dormant farm land becomes haunted and ‘extra’ for the snow fog quietly taking over


When I capture a magnificent ‘bird of prey‘, I’m not yet thinking...


…about who he becomes when zeroing in on this beautiful ‘bird who prays. For me, they both become the ‘extra”

IMG_0023 (2)

When a sunset becomes so much more, has so much ‘extra’, when captured on a day the sky is teaming with the right combination of pollutants. Pollution as extraordinary? Extraordinary!

1015230_10201188597627895_1558047865_o (2)

When what the ocean throws away that which is more beautiful than anything than man can make…it becomes ‘extra’


And when the ocean captures and transforms what man has left behind, and turns it to something beautiful…it has that ‘extra’


Or when a forgotten church, surrounded by shadows of life forgotten…seen from a distance, and imagining its history…it becomes the ‘extra’

Good Analogy or Same Ol’ Shit Politics? YOU answer that for yourselves

For me, I think the commentary below is a damned good analogy for Obama-care…aka The Affordable Care Act.

Yeah me, the ‘so-called’ middle class…the one who is now paying more than twice the cost for less than half the coverage.

The one who can no longer afford to go to the doctor, even though I have insurance, because the deductible is a joke.

No…worse…the deductible is half a year’s living expenses.


I wish it were that easy.


You betcha.

I am one of those who has insurance, but will never reap the benefit of the (50% greater) amount taken from the paycheck for the simple fact that, the (4x greater) deductible is more than we could ever afford to pay on top of the premiums.

Therefore, for all (his) intents and (his) purposes…we consider ourselves one of the “Insured WITHOUT the state and federal benefits of the uninsured”

Yes, this is the reality.  If you are part of the subsidized health exchange system…good for you.

If you are not…like me…then this is our reality.

Does this mean I’m anti-poor or anti-needy?  HELL NO!

Does this mean because I work and you don’t, I am responsible for taking care of YOU before I can take care of me and my own?  NO

Does this mean I think I deserve decent, affordable health coverage because that’s what I pay for?  YES

Do I think there is a better way to achieve this than Obama-care?  YES


Because more than 50% of what my household makes ALREADY goes to the government.

When is it enough?

When is it going to be okay to think YOU take care of YOU and YOURS and I take care of ME and MINE is the way it should be, if at all possible?

Charity begins at home.  Right?

Charity comes from the heart.  Right?

Charity is NOT a mandatory tax.  Right?

Since when did the government become a charity?

I give what I can when I can, which is often.

I have never passed another human being in need, without offering a helping hand.

When did that cease to be ‘charitable’?

The future Analogy of which I speak (and please, this is not a personal attack on the Prez…just his policy) is outlined below:

Affordable Plumbing Act

Only weeks after leaving office on Jan. 20, 2017, former President Barack Obama discovers a leak under his sink, so he calls Troy the Plumber to come out and fix it.

Troy drives to Obama’s new house, which is located in a very exclusive, gated community near Chicago where all the residents have a net income of way more than $250,000 per year.

Troy arrives and takes his tools into the house. He is led to the guest bathroom that contains the leaky pipe under the sink. Troy assesses the problem and tells Obama that it’s an easy repair that will take less than 10 minutes. Obama asks Troy how much it will cost. Troy checks his rate chart and says, “$9,500.”

“What?! $9,500?!” Obama asks, stunned, “But you said it’s an easy repair. Michelle will whip me if I pay a plumber that much!”

Troy says, “Yes, but what I do is charge those who make more than $250,000 per year a much higher amount so I can fix the plumbing of poorer people for free. This has always been my philosophy. As a matter of fact, I lobbied the Democrat Congress, who passed this philosophy into law. Now all plumbers must do business this way. It’s known as the ‘Affordable Plumbing Act of 2014′. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it.”

In spite of that, Obama tells Troy there’s no way he’s paying that much for a small plumbing repair, so Troy leaves. Obama spends the next hour flipping through the phone book calling for another plumber, but he finds that all other plumbing businesses in the area have gone out of business. Not wanting to pay Troy’s price, Obama does nothing and the leak goes un-repaired for several more days. A week later the leak is so bad Obama has had to put a bucket under the sink.

Michelle is not happy as she has Oprah and guests arriving the next morning. The bucket fills up quickly and has to be emptied every hour, and there’s a risk the room will flood, so Obama calls Troy and pleads with him to return.

Troy goes back to Obama’s house, looks at the leaky pipe, checks his new rate chart and says, “Let’s see, this will now cost you $21,000.”

Obama quickly fires back, “What? A few days ago you told me it would cost $9,500!”

Troy explains, “Well, because of the ‘Affordable Plumbing Act,’ a lot of wealthier people are learning how to maintain and take care of their own plumbing, so there are fewer payers in the plumbing exchanges. As a result, the price I have to charge wealthy people like you keeps rising. Not only that, but for some reason the demand for plumbing work by those who get it for free has skyrocketed! There’s a long waiting list of those who need repairs, but the amount we get doesn’t cover our costs, especially paperwork and record-keeping. This unfortunately has put a lot of my fellow plumbers out of business, they’re not being replaced, and nobody is going into the plumbing business because they know they can’t make any money at it. I’m hurting too, all thanks to greedy rich people like you who won’t pay their ‘fair share’. On the other hand, why didn’t you buy plumbing insurance last December? If you had bought plumbing insurance available under the ‘Affordable Plumbing Act,’ all this would have been covered by your policy.”

“You mean I wouldn’t have to pay anything to have you fix my plumbing problem?” asks Obama.

“Well, not exactly,” replies Troy. “You would have had to buy the insurance before the deadline, which has passed now. And, because you’re rich, you would have had to pay $34,000 in premiums, which would have given you a ‘silver’ plan, and then, since this would have been your first repair, you would have to pay up to the $21,000 deductible, and anything over that would have a $7,500 co-pay, and then there’s the mandatory maintenance program, which is covered up to 17.5%, so there are some costs involved. Nothing is for free.”

“WHAT?!” exclaims Obama. “Why so much for a puny sink leak?!”

With a bland look, Troy replies, “Well, paperwork, mostly, like I said. And the internal cost of the program itself. You don’t think a program of this complexity and scope can run itself, do you? Besides, there are millions of folks with lower incomes than you, even many in the ‘middle class’, who qualify for subsidies that people like you must support. That’s why they call it the ‘Affordable Plumbing Act’! Only people who don’t make much money can afford it. If you want affordable plumbing, you’ll have to give away most of what you have accumulated and cut your and Michelle’s income by about 90%. Then you can qualify to get your ‘Fair Share’ instead of giving it.”

“But who would pass a crazy act like the ‘Affordable Plumbing Act’?!” exclaims the exasperated Obama.

After a sigh, Troy replies, “Congress… because they didn’t read it.”

yabba-D.A.B.D.A.-doo the numbers

The five stages of grief

1.  Denial

2.  Anger

3.  Bargaining

4.  Depression

5.  Acceptance


There has been no denial…

…there was no doubt death was coming


There has been anger…

…but it’s an exhausting emotion


There was a little bargaining…

…too close to self-blaming to be tolerated for long


There is depression…

…that ‘happy memory’ thief that sneaks into your heart in the dark


There will be acceptance…

…a state of being both wanted and feared at the same time

Remembering the good times, the happy times, is not hard
there are so very many of them

Remembering I am not alone is not easy
until I hear the sadness in the voice on the other end of the phone

Remembering he is gone takes the joy out of the day
until I remember too, how much of him is left within me

Forgetting that he lived and loved and was loved in return is not an option
especially when remembering his legacy to all of us was 

Live like it’s your last day
Love like it’s your last chance
Regret Nothing

Roy E George