sold it...

Started driving the new'ish Toyota nearly a month ago. Finally sold the old/gold one yesterday. It has been sitting around waiting for a new home all this time. Got lots of nibbles but no bites, except for this one guy who said he wanted to get it for a son who was about to have a birthday. If anyone had asked my opinion, I would have given it on that score, about what happens when you provide a sixteen year old a free ride. But no one asked, so I kept it to myself.

The old/gold one sat out on the street near the house with For Sale written on the windows for a couple of weeks, generating quite a few calls, but none that had any seriousness to their tone. My spouse told me more than once that I had it priced too high. I didn't disagree. But when people would call and have questions, I would say: 'I am asking $6500'. They did not say 'will you come down?' or 'will you consider less?' or 'can we negotiate?', so they were obviously not really interested.  There were two people who did ask, and I sold it to one of them. The other guy said, 'if I pay cash would you accept less', and I didn't say: 'cash is the only option', but he didn't call back.

So I moved it into town, and parked in front of a State Farm agent's office, where I often see vehicles for sale. With thousands of passers-by every day, causing me to be hopeful that the right person would come along and make the call, want to drive, and own. It finally happened last week, and we made the deal on Monday.

My friend P., who I refer to as the smartest person I know, wanted me to believe it was not my responsibility to warn potential buyers about the imminent possibility of having to replace the very expensive energy-storage batteries. I did not mention it to all the people who called, because their interest cooled as soon as they heard the numbers. P. seemed to think that anyone who was serious about purchasing a vehicle of this type was responsible for doing the due diligence to discover that on their own. And felt like I was under no obligation to share that information with anyone. Which sounds like a good idea, especially when telling them how much the new battery array would cost.

So I didn't precisely tell the buyer what they were getting. But did provide a nice rebate for them to use towards the price of having the storage batteries replaced. And told them about the mechanics in Decatur who reported they could order some that were rebuilt or refurbished for considerably less than the dealer/service dept. would charge. But what they do now, that the title is no longer mine, and the vehicle is in someone else's hands/name is up to the new owner.

I told the buyer, when she met me to get the key, and handed over the cashier's check: that was the first time I had sold a vehicle on my own, and it made me feel like an 'adult'... My conscience would not allow me to feel like I was withholding information. And I know I did the right thing as I slept really well last night.

an interesting discovery about human nature...

..is that we tend to assign the same character traits to other people that have been ingrained into our own little personalities. Things like being reliable, or trustworthy. I am continually amazed by co-workers who fail to show up when they are on the schedule to be on the job. I am confounded by people who sign on to work and then just don't appear when there is work to be done. Or even worse: show up and spend as much time as possible avoiding doing what they have been trained to do. Is there such a thing as a professional slacker? Is this the type person who historically was known to prey on others, using the naive and gullible for nefarious means?

I won't mention any names, but came to the surprising conclusion that there are people who will sign on for the task, when all they wanted was the pay, and had no intention of investing the actual labor necessary to accomplish the job. Some don't even bother to show up. Some come in consistently late. Some work at such a slow pace, it's a wonder they don't get strangled by management, or run over by customers pushing grocery carts.

I started the above several months ago, and found it in 'drafts'. In a remarkably timely manner, since I am sitting a home today, pecking away instead of working/being productive.  Still wondering about those people who make the effort to apply for the job, and complete the training process, appear to be willing to work, anxious to develop the job skills and interested in putting forth the required effort to be gainfully employed: then slack off.

I am willing, and somewhat trained: but finding limited demand for my skill-set/time.  I am working a total of nine hours at my job this week. Pretty disturbing. But not too sad, as I have a number of plants sitting in pots awaiting hole digging. I have considered doing some of that for months, but have apparently become very adept at avoidance: hence a startling similarity to the people I was harping about in the first paragraph. So I think I will devote some time this afternoon to puttering around in the yard, getting some of those things planted and settled in before cold weather arrives.

Thought last night that I should attempt to find a sub. teaching job for today, but all the absences that create work opportunities are for people who work in special education classes - sadly, not something I am comfortable taking on. But happily - a day with nothing else on the calendar, so fairly likely that I will actually get some holes dug and plants inserted.

Saturday afternoon... (GFT story)

...indicating that going to the GA National Fair was not all the amusement that occurred over the weekend. We did find the car, with remarkable ease, hidden in plain sight out in the parking area, along with several thousand other vehicles. Got back on the interstate to return to Decatur. North of Macon, I noticed a sign directing travelers for the exit to Juliette, GA. If you are from the south, and familiar with southern cooking, you are likely a fan of Green Fried Tomatoes. And probably aware of a movie made some years ago, in which this particular item played a starring role.

I believe the movie was based on a book by Fannie Flagg, with a good portion based on local lore, family history, and anecdotes. I'm not sure of the title of either book or  movie, but think that 'Whistle Stop Café' played a part in the story. I'd been suggesting to likely co-horts/co-consiprators the necessity of making a pilgrimage to the Whistle Stop Café for a goodly portion of that historically artery-clogging un-vegetable vegetable. When I saw the sign for the Juliette exit, I said: 'we should go', meaning we should start planning another road trip. But she said: 'Yes'.

The wonders of Google informed us that the café was open until 3:00, causing us to expect to not get in. But just going would be interesting, so we drove down a little two lane country road, with signs periodically directing us on toward Juliette, GA. Crisp clear day, with leaves falling from the trees, and whirling in the backdraft of passing cars. Arriving at a little town, about the size of Boston, GA. With a block long business district.  Consisting  of a row of mostly of ancient, sagging buildings filled with antiques/junque and collectibles, little trinket/gift shops.  I expect the primary attraction, the reason people veer off the interstate is remembering the book/movie and thinking: 'Oh, let's go to Juliette'. Us too!

The café was open. We had the tomatoes. Of course. They were fried. Extremely fresh: so hot they were steaming when you cut into bite size. And just exactly what my taste buds had expected. In the interest of creating a well balanced meal, we also had fried chicken nuggets and potato chips, along with a garlicky pickle spear. That's my fat quota for the month. It was worth every bite.

it's a mess...report on 'C.'

... though I could use several other words to describe the situation with my auntie. I'm understandably reluctant to provide details, as it is difficult to judge how much information, published, would be considered 'too much'. Often finding myself the recipient of what I consider 'too much information', I have become very conscious, over time, when people are wanting to share facts and personal news that does not need to become common knowledge.

It's probably not uncommon to realize that as we age, we all tend to be both more tender-hearted and more squeamish. When people I care for receive discouraging news related to health or problems of family members, I find  myself trying to look at life challenges from their perspective, and wanting   to be both objective and sympathetic.  She's received some really undesired, unpleasant news that will affect her lifestyle, requiring major changes. But also oddly not 'traumatic' in a medical way, in the sense that it was not really health related, as you often do receive hugely distressing info. when you go for the 'follow up' office visit to get result of testing/scans/labs. Hers was related to changes the doctor feels that she needs to make to maintain health and safe living conditions.

My cousin and I are profoundly thankful that it came out of his mouth. As difficult as these statements were to hear, I am so grateful the doctor was the 'bearer of bad news' instead of the relatives (almost exclusively my cousin and myself) who will be the recipients of the fallout when she has to make the necessary changes in her life. I remember hearing another cousin telling an amusing story of taking her dad and aunt to get driving licenses renewed, when both had poor eyesight. With vision failing so badly neither should have been behind the wheel of a two-thousand pound vehicle, they sat in the waiting area, trying to memorize the series of letters as other patrons read them out. Hoping to recall with sufficient accuracy to be awarded another five year permit that would allow them to endanger the lives of everyone on the road.

My auntie claims good health, though she has had several back surgeries, both hip joints replaced and other surgeries to repair injured limbs. None of which would be considered unusual or excessive for someone her age. She reports that her 'organs' do not have any medical problems, though lab work tells otherwise. She is understandably reluctant to make changes: aren't we all? Especially when forced upon us, not of our timing, preference, choosing? But circumstances dictate that changes will have to be made - for her own safety as well as others around her, if she continues to insist upon driving. More to come as this unfolds over time...

all in all...(a day at the Fair)

...I'd have to say it was a pretty amusing day. And a pretty day, just to be alive, even without all the amusing part.  Bright sunshine, clear cloudless sky, amazingly cool weather. Here in middle GA, summer heat often drags on until well into November. We can have short-pants weather until nearly Christmas. But Saturday was perfect. Here in the land of rabid football fans who live for Saturday games in the SEC, we'd call it perfect tail-gating weather.  I predict everyone in all those college stadiums across the southern states got sunburned while cheering on their favorite team.

F. and I had been thinking, talking occasionally for several years of the entertainment value of going to the GA National Fair: primarily to see the agricultural exhibits. Located in central GA, at the state owned fairgrounds, adjacent to I-75 in Perry, GA. We were hoping for lots of high school 4-H and FFA projects: cows and chickens, goats and sheeps. And a goodly number of cheesy exhibits that looked like something you would see at a middle school science fair. Only less well done, and more hurriedly put together, as generally occurs on the night before the teacher requires it to be at school. 

And it pretty much all happened. The overpriced concession stand food: corndogs for $7, giant pretzels for $5, fresh roasted corn for $3 an ear, along with things that never occurred to you could be deep fried.(Would you believe pop tarts? Me neither -it makes me queasy to even write about it!)  But were there available for consumption before getting on those rides that cause you to loose everything you have eaten all week.

Lots of beautiful hand crafts: gorgeous quilts by people who obviously had years of experience with design, piecing, and assembly. Handmade beaded jewelry. Hand wrought/turned wood bowls and decorative pieces. Professional quality photography. Plus lots of those same crafts that were obviously done by students who were not so skilled and experienced but obviously willing to invest their time.  All assigned varying degrees of accomplishment through judging, and ribbons of various colors awarded for levels of skill and competency, as well as just amazing products. Oh - and jars of preserved vegetables and fruits: jam, jellies, beans, pickles, apples, corn, herbs - and some things I would never think to preserve, 'put by' in canning jars.

We walked through all the exhibits, saw hundreds of beef and dairy cows, in various stages of readiness, being prepared by student owners for competition judging. Lots of goats, all saying what goats say. Dozens of sheep, neatly sheared, all telling us what they thought about the crowds, confusion, unfamiliar environment. We did  not spend much time looking at the middle and high school educational exhibits, but there were hundreds of those. We were disappointed to not see the poultry out in force. I reminded her about going to the fair when they were small and seeing chickens in cages with feathered feet, and hundreds of pigeons. There was an educational area about the value of the poultry industry in GA, and how chickens are grown, and some eggs in an incubator that were hatching out wee little fuzzy biddies, no birds for judging/competition. Lots of rabbits though, in all sizes and colors, and a surprising number of guinea pigs, also called 'cavy'. I know rabbits can be a food source, but not sure why one would raise the cavy.

We walked the length of the midway, observed people screaming on rides they had paid good money and deliberately let themselves be secured  on, then yelling 'bloody murder' for the duration. That does not appeal to me at all. As we were heading toward the exit, hoping we could find the car in those thousands parked in the open field, we stopped for a pig race. You had to pay close attention or miss it entirely. It was amusing, but happened so fast - it was over in a blink. They ran around a 150 foot track with an oreo as the prize for the winner. Mr. Robinson, the propreitor of' Robinson's Racing Pigs' had them run three times, so I guess he realized some of us, sitting right there on the bleachers, didn't see it happen.

We spent about four hours there - walking for miles, but pretty much saw all the exhibits, which was the reason I wanted to go. Not for the rides that make you urp, or the concession stand food that is soaked in grease, but mostly to see all the 'made in Georgia' stuff. And remarkably found our car to depart with amazing ease.

a little painting project...

... distracted me for several hours this morning. I had taken paints and a little 8x8 canvas along on the mercy mission to south GA, but it did not even get out of my car. And there was a definite window for getting the project finished. I got the canvas from someone who had asked members of the Artist's Guild to paint the little canvas for selling as a fund-raiser. Part of the big once-a-year event the Botanical Gardens puts on every October.

Botanical Gardens invites (likely paying an exorbitant fee) a well known personality: author of note, floral designer with cachet, gardening person who has lots of experience in high-profile landscaping, to appear as the featured speaker at a luncheon. Advertising to garden clubbers and country club-types, locals who willingly pay to hear as they share anecdotes, talk about their work, lives, or demonstrate some remarkable gardening-related skill.

For the past couple of years, I've been a volunteer, helping with a silent auction, and serving as a cashier for sales of table centerpieces and auction items. So when I discovered the artists from the guild have been painting little canvas, donating their skills to help with the fundraiser, I wanted some of that. The Gardens provides the 8x8 canvas, gives them to anyone who wants to paint, and then sells them for (I think) $50 each. You can pay extra for a frame if you want.

I wanted to paint, even though I have not done any painting (other than faces at carnivals) since I finished at CSU. I actually used the craft/acrylic paints in little bottles (like you can find at craft stores) to paint my canvas. Wishing I had started sooner and allowed more time, so I would have been better pleased with the end product. But feeling the pressure to get it done, I spent a couple of hours this morning on it, and delivered it to the admin. assistant at the Botanical Gardens to get it out of my life. I'm not particularly impressed with the results, which makes me know that I need to be willing to invest more time in the future.

a worser bug invasion...

...all this time of sweeping up and picking up and disposing of millipedes. I only thought that was a huge annoyance. When I went to bed last night I discovered: fleas. Holy cow. How can that even be possible when we don't even have any animals in the house any more? Where would fleas come from? What does one do about a flea infestation? Is it a sign of terrible sanitation? Isn't this little nearly invisible creature the thing that spread the Plague? Holy cow!

I was getting myself ready to go to bed, and looked down at my white socks and thought: hmmm, wonder where I was to get those tiny black grass seeds on my socks. Then the tiny black grass seeds starting jumping off my socks and onto the bed. It was quite obviously fleas, but I was in such a state of total denial, it took me a while to believe I was seeing what I was actually seeing. I remember hearing that they can only jump about twelve or fifteen inches, and my bed is at least three feet off the floor, so I went to sleep. And wanted to believe it was a bad dream when I woke up, but of course, they were still there, ready for another ride when they jumped back on my socks.

So I looked up the number for the Do-it-yourself pest supply store, and put it in my phone, Waiting for the store to open and have someone who would give advice at 8:30. I was in the store buying a $27 can of spray by 8:50. With instructions to vacuum, then spray all the carpet. I went straight home and got started. Picking things up on the floor that have been sitting in the same spot, making long-term dents in the carpet for years. Hoping to start the flea-free process. I am supposed to vacuum again, every couple of days, and spray again in ten days: which is how long it takes infants to hatch from eggs laid in carpet. I cleaned out the vacuum filter and parked it out in the storage room, to keep any hatchlings from repopulating.

I am freaked out. My cuzzin' recommends a 'bomb' or several that you set off in the house, and leave. So it can permeate everything and poison the hoppers. As well as the remnants of the millipede invasion if there are any left? Which is, I guess, why the instructions say to leave the house while you can, and before you are so overwhelmed with fumes that you can't. Reminding me of the bugs in the Men In Black movies....

I'm feeling like I don't clean house very well, to have such a miserable nasty, icky, unsanitary problem. I associate people who live with fleas as someone one who is not Me. Truth is: I don't do much cleaning, but it does not really get dirty with just us there, and we're not there for much more than going to bed, the occasional meal and showering, washing clothes as needed and leaving again.

I still have not figured out where they could have come from. The last cat wore a flea collar until the day before she deceased, and has been in the Cat Cemetery for over two weeks. There has been a stray/feral around for months. A neighbor was reportedly planning to try and trap to take and get neutered, between litters of kittens. So I don't know if that mama cat is the source of the problem. But I am mostly truly baffled as to where the aggravating little piss-ants could have come from...