...here in Valdosta. After working for six hours, I drove south to get here for a meeting with someone who is well-versed in estate auctions. N. came in the door handing me a copy of her resume and a list of satisfied customers I could contact for references. I did not really look at either, just said I was ready to sign a contract to move forward with the process.
She provided 'way more information than I could retain. Plus I expect she has given her spiel on so many occasions over her lifetime, she often wishes for a recording to punch the 'play' button. She and husband have been in real estate or household dissolution for many years, and seem to be very knowledgeable, having refined the process over time to be very efficient. Everything is online, there are no print catalogs, nothing to mail out with costs of production or postage expenses. It is difficult to believe this business can sell all the small oddments, collectibles, memorabilia, flotsam and jetsam of a long life of interesting travels.
My goal for yesterday was to clean out one closet. I did - but cheated - picking the one that had the least amount of clutter as my challenge. It was a snap, but do not think it really qualifies due the minuscule effort required to complete the task. Thinking I might go back before I leave this afternoon and put the contents of another closet in my car to deliver to the thrift store, in order to salve my conscience and mollify that little imp sitting on my shoulder. I did rake all the stuff off the fridge into a trash bag: does that count towards my goal? Oh, well....nice try!
I do not have the vocabulary to describe the relief of talking to the auction person yesterday. I know that clearing out her accumulated household goods is a prerequisite to being able to begin the sale of the house. But, as I told the auctioneer, N., yesterday: I am still very sad about giving away so much nice, sturdy, well-built durable furniture that was in my parents' home. I tried numerous times to find some help: a dealer, antique collector, consignment shop owner, anyone who would advise about disposing of well-made valuable furniture. With no success, whereupon I made a list and donated hundreds of dollars worth well loved, well made goods to a local non-profit thrift shop.
Causing me to studiously avoid the prospect of listing, sorting, packing, loading, hauling all the goods from the aunties' house to ultimately donate to a thrift store. According to N., that will not be the case with eighty-three years worth of beloved furniture and knick-knacks she saw yesterday. Still I filled five trash bags with junk, plus one with household cleaning supplies to dispose of properly, and another with OTC meds. to recycle. A box of books to donate for re-sale to the Friends shop at the library, and a few small items I want to spirit away before the folks come to start an inventory of every paperclip, rubber band, and twist tie.
If you care to have any lamps, end tables, area rugs, speak up now. When N. was giving me the Cliff Notes version of estate dissolving, I did not ask how long I might have to get anything I would want to keep out. Partially due to the fact that there is really not anything I particularly want - it's all stuff, and I already want less of that! But there are some nice furnishings in that house, for the person who will: 'Speak Now, or Forever Hold Your Peace.'
Wednesday, September 5, 2018
Monday, September 3, 2018
balloon fest...
... at Callaway Gardens. Held at the Gardens/Resort in Pine Mountain, GA for twenty years. Oddly, I was never much interested in going, until daughters thought they wanted to volunteer, leading me to think I might be missing something entertaining, so I volunteered too! I've been for several years, holding the basket steady for paying customers to get in and out as the pilots take people on a two minute tethered ride. It sounds like it should be great fun, but basically the volunteer is dead weight. When someone asked yesterday how I got my job, I said I had to go to 'ballast school.' Not sure if she took my response seriously or not, but I had a very dead-pan delivery, though the pilot nearly fell out of the basket laughing.
The balloonists started the tethered flights early in the morning and and had to quit about 10 a.m., when the sun was up enough to create thermal air currents making flight risky Before the envelopes were inflated, the baskets (probably called by some technical term like gondolas?) were securely tied to vehicles parked out on the field for the express purpose of keeping the balloons close to the earth. The teams packed up their gear, disappointing hundreds of wishful customers who had been waiting for their turn to take a two minute ride forty feet up in the air.
The balloon teams came back out around four thirty, hoping they might begin providing rides again. The wind was a little too strong, causing teams to wait until nearly six to get started again. There were so many customers awaiting an opportunity to go up in a hot air balloon, pilots were told they could stay and provide the brief excursion as long as they wanted to keep at it.
I think I heard some years ago, when I first started volunteering for the Labor Day event, that Callaway Gardens provides all the propane the pilots use to heat the air in the envelope to float. Which would be an excellent lure for getting people who are balloonists to come and participate in the weekend. I imagine with all the equipment and financial investment in upkeep of vehicles plus constant travel/living in motels every weekend, it can become a very expensive hobby. The guy I was working with lives north of Atlanta, reported he is 'retired', when I asked if ballooning was a full time job. His balloon is an promotional gimmick for real estate sales: RE MAX, and was the only one I saw yesterday with advertising on it. He told someone, when a customer asked, the one he was using on Saturday was small compared to the others on the field, but he has six more. I assumed all had advertising for property sales on them, guessing he has a contract to attend festivals promoting the company. He also said they have a 'life span' and when they start to wear out, they get thrown away. UV rays are hard on the nylon, and the constant packing and unpacking must be rough on the thousand of stitches in the hundreds of seams.
I was amazed at how long lines of people were standing waiting for the opportunity to take the brief excursion into the atmosphere. Families, people with small antsy children, and drooping, wretchedly hot, panting grandparents, hoping for an opportunity to pay ten bucks for a two minute ride. I thought I would melt, out there in that big blistering field with no shade.
By late afternoon, when the sun was still up high enough to be blazing hot, I had probably consumed two quarts of water, and never a thought of needing to take a break for run to the porta-potty. It was so sweltering, I had thoughts of spontaneous combustion - all the necessary components needed for fire were there. We were all so thankful when the sun finally went down below the pine trees across the lake, finally providing some relief. I had helped the pilot and crew (his daughter and one other worker) pack up when they quit mid-morning, and unpack/prep., refill envelope with huge fan when they were preparing to start up again in the afternoon, but left before they quit for the day. A thirty minute drive home in the dark and straight to bed.
PS.... that doofus person in the tie-dyed bucket hat in the first photo, with envelopes inflating in the backgound: me. Before I got so hot I considered the likelihood of spontaneous combustion. And I was well dressed compared to some of the different pilots and their crew.
book review: "Passing"...
...written by Nella Larsen. I found it in the library, on the shelf with recorded books. Surprised to find it was first published in 1929, though the copyright for the talking book is dated 2003. The era when the book was written and published was vastly different from the present day, with expectations, amenities and requirements for polite society a world away from the culture of the twenty first century. People dressed for dinner, went to balls and parties that were formal, invitation only affairs. Upper crust life styles seemingly alien when compared to the present day.
The author of the book was involved in the Harlem Renaissance era, and the first Black woman who was a recipient of the Guggenheim creative writing award. You see the meaning of the title: a reference to people of African American heritage living surreptitiously as Caucasians. Unwilling to reveal their history and trying to make others believe they are not racially mixed, in constant fear of being discovered as charlatans. The details included in the writing brought that era to life, making the characters seem very realistic and believable.
Quoted from the back of the Cd set: "Claire Kendry is a black woman who passes for white. She is married to a white man who does not know her heritage. Wife of a successfull black doctor, she refuses to admit that racism influences her world. When Clare and Irene meet by chance after many years, their lives become intertwined once again. But now the relationship forces both women to confront their lies and secret fears."
The two women were school mates in their youth, went their separate ways and had chance meeting in a restaurant. One is very reluctant to renew the friendship, while the other is very demanding, applying pressure for them to regain an old relationship. Both women are of mixed descent, but one is living as a society matron in the black community, and the other hiding her history from all who know her. There is a surprising ending - something I did not expect. It was interesting, and the idea of 'passing' is something that has stuck in my brain, to be pondered for days after finishing the story.
The author of the book was involved in the Harlem Renaissance era, and the first Black woman who was a recipient of the Guggenheim creative writing award. You see the meaning of the title: a reference to people of African American heritage living surreptitiously as Caucasians. Unwilling to reveal their history and trying to make others believe they are not racially mixed, in constant fear of being discovered as charlatans. The details included in the writing brought that era to life, making the characters seem very realistic and believable.
Quoted from the back of the Cd set: "Claire Kendry is a black woman who passes for white. She is married to a white man who does not know her heritage. Wife of a successfull black doctor, she refuses to admit that racism influences her world. When Clare and Irene meet by chance after many years, their lives become intertwined once again. But now the relationship forces both women to confront their lies and secret fears."
The two women were school mates in their youth, went their separate ways and had chance meeting in a restaurant. One is very reluctant to renew the friendship, while the other is very demanding, applying pressure for them to regain an old relationship. Both women are of mixed descent, but one is living as a society matron in the black community, and the other hiding her history from all who know her. There is a surprising ending - something I did not expect. It was interesting, and the idea of 'passing' is something that has stuck in my brain, to be pondered for days after finishing the story.
you may remember...
... tucked away in the dusty recesses of your cranium: going to Sunday School as a kid and having the lesson of the week taught using flannel boards? Remember flannel boards? And all those little cut out figures dressed in garb of the era? With cloth backing designed to adhere to the pale blue flannel on the big covered board sitting up on an easel for all the little people with minute attention spans circled up on the cold hard linoleum floor.
Wonderful stories with characters from Old and New: misbehaving, never satisfied Adam and Eve; the chosen people living as slaves in Egypt; amazing route to safety through parted waters; people who trekked around in the desert for forty years, griping and complaining; older brothers envious of their father's love for a younger sibling; shepherds defeating giant opponents; ancient kings and warriors good and bad. Strangers with big hearts: Samaritans who would do The Right Thing for the Right Reasons. Tales of a baffling pregnancy, birth in a barn, donkey rides in the dark. Parables told with small paper cut-out characters for illustration to help small children visualize those men, women, children, sheep,camels, donkeys, living nomad lives from thousands of years ago.
When I was substituting at a school on the south side of town, a visitor came in the classroom to read to the students. She brought several books age-appropriate for the four-year-olds, as well as an assortment of visuals to help keep them interested. It's pretty obvious you need to have lots of tricks up your sleeve when reading to a group of kids with the attention span of a flea. This group, raised in the age of electronics, hand held devices passed over for distraction in the car driving for ten minutes, was quite attentive to the reader as she pulled characters out of her bag to place on the flannel board.
Well... me too! But for a different reason than to wonder: what makes those animals stick on there?
Wonderful stories with characters from Old and New: misbehaving, never satisfied Adam and Eve; the chosen people living as slaves in Egypt; amazing route to safety through parted waters; people who trekked around in the desert for forty years, griping and complaining; older brothers envious of their father's love for a younger sibling; shepherds defeating giant opponents; ancient kings and warriors good and bad. Strangers with big hearts: Samaritans who would do The Right Thing for the Right Reasons. Tales of a baffling pregnancy, birth in a barn, donkey rides in the dark. Parables told with small paper cut-out characters for illustration to help small children visualize those men, women, children, sheep,camels, donkeys, living nomad lives from thousands of years ago.
When I was substituting at a school on the south side of town, a visitor came in the classroom to read to the students. She brought several books age-appropriate for the four-year-olds, as well as an assortment of visuals to help keep them interested. It's pretty obvious you need to have lots of tricks up your sleeve when reading to a group of kids with the attention span of a flea. This group, raised in the age of electronics, hand held devices passed over for distraction in the car driving for ten minutes, was quite attentive to the reader as she pulled characters out of her bag to place on the flannel board.
Well... me too! But for a different reason than to wonder: what makes those animals stick on there?
going south ...
... on Tuesday to spend the night in Valdosta. The Auntie has two doctoring appts. on Wednesday. I will drive down on tomorrow afternoon, to break up the drive as it is so exhausting to do in one day. One of my goals is to make some progress on her house. It is a drain on her finances, even though she has savings and not desperate for funds. It has been sitting empty for well over a year, and I know I need to start inching towards putting it on the market.
In conversation with the attorney who walked us through the Probate process, I understand it will not be necessary to petition the court before moving forward with selling the property. My smart friend who has been helping with paperwork suggested I should include a request to dispose of her belongings (with funds to be used for her support) in the original paperwork submitted. Which is how/why the sale of her car did not involve a long tedious request/petition and specific permission. This will allow me to move forward with a multitude of small tasks that must be done prior to putting out the 'For Sale' sign.
The attorney advises I can proceed with using a group that specializes in estate sales to help clear the house of her furniture. Knowing what to do with all her belongings has been the reason for stalling with the process. My hope is to at least get one closet empty tomorrow, and possibly list and box up books to donate for resale to the library in their Friends store. Part of what makes it so difficult is everything you see when you walk in the door has value - to someone - and making the decisions: give it away/trash/keep is so time consuming to ponder over each small item. You know how things in our life can expand to fill the amount of space we have to store them in? More closets means more stuff. A bigger pantry means more boxes, cans, jars and bottles filling shelves. A double carport? Twice as much room to store those things we don't want but not ready to part with. Living in America: The Land of Clutter! Consumerism Reigns Supreme!
I am still grieving over that fact that I had to donate so much of the beautiful, sturdy, well-made furniture in my parents house. I could not find anyone who would take pieces on consignment. Did not know who or where to talk with in order to 're-home' all the household items accumulated over a life time of living in one place. Someone approached me several years ago about renting the house my dad built over sixty years ago. I knew there should be someone living there to take care of the property: but what to do with a well over a half-century of proliferating belongings? It was sad and frustrating: when I finally gave up the hope of selling, and had to donate it to a non-profit, even knowing it would be sold and provide needed furnishing for other people in the community.
I have contacted the estate auction people, and have an appt. for Tuesday afternoon. I hope she will find that there is some worth to the furniture in the Auntie's house, and we can come to an agreement about having a sale. I am certain there will be plenty of misc. left if/when that happens, the carrion-eaters descend, that will be donated to a thrift store - with an itemized list that documents each little bit of flotsam and jetsam. Arrrrgggghhhhh.
In conversation with the attorney who walked us through the Probate process, I understand it will not be necessary to petition the court before moving forward with selling the property. My smart friend who has been helping with paperwork suggested I should include a request to dispose of her belongings (with funds to be used for her support) in the original paperwork submitted. Which is how/why the sale of her car did not involve a long tedious request/petition and specific permission. This will allow me to move forward with a multitude of small tasks that must be done prior to putting out the 'For Sale' sign.
The attorney advises I can proceed with using a group that specializes in estate sales to help clear the house of her furniture. Knowing what to do with all her belongings has been the reason for stalling with the process. My hope is to at least get one closet empty tomorrow, and possibly list and box up books to donate for resale to the library in their Friends store. Part of what makes it so difficult is everything you see when you walk in the door has value - to someone - and making the decisions: give it away/trash/keep is so time consuming to ponder over each small item. You know how things in our life can expand to fill the amount of space we have to store them in? More closets means more stuff. A bigger pantry means more boxes, cans, jars and bottles filling shelves. A double carport? Twice as much room to store those things we don't want but not ready to part with. Living in America: The Land of Clutter! Consumerism Reigns Supreme!
I am still grieving over that fact that I had to donate so much of the beautiful, sturdy, well-made furniture in my parents house. I could not find anyone who would take pieces on consignment. Did not know who or where to talk with in order to 're-home' all the household items accumulated over a life time of living in one place. Someone approached me several years ago about renting the house my dad built over sixty years ago. I knew there should be someone living there to take care of the property: but what to do with a well over a half-century of proliferating belongings? It was sad and frustrating: when I finally gave up the hope of selling, and had to donate it to a non-profit, even knowing it would be sold and provide needed furnishing for other people in the community.
I have contacted the estate auction people, and have an appt. for Tuesday afternoon. I hope she will find that there is some worth to the furniture in the Auntie's house, and we can come to an agreement about having a sale. I am certain there will be plenty of misc. left if/when that happens, the carrion-eaters descend, that will be donated to a thrift store - with an itemized list that documents each little bit of flotsam and jetsam. Arrrrgggghhhhh.
Friday, August 31, 2018
begging and pleading...
... the sort of desperation you might see from kids in the checkout line when Mom makes the mistake of taking small needy children to shop. As they spot all those tempting items placed at eye level for the under-four-feet crowd, and proceed to insist they are frantically in need of sugar to fuel their already hyper energy level. While Mom, already frazzled, is trying to do four things at once: loading items on conveyor belt, keep a watchful eye, converse with the cashier, find her plastic payment and hopefully maintain sanity long enough to get food and family safely home.
The guy who makes out the weekly schedule has been hearing too much whining from me. Urgently imploring, week after week, for more work: and not really for the paycheck! I have been working about twenty hours a week at my little jobette, while hoping for twenty five. My goal has been to accumulate enough time from week to week to have worked a thousand hours by the middle of October. As the months pass, and those pages on the calendar flip, it has been a struggle to get the time needed in order to receive employee benefits. There was a time, before the economy tanked and employers were more generous with workers the perks were easier to accrue. But in recent years, corporations have made guidelines more stringent and benefits harder to accumulate: tightening belts has become a necessity.
In order to be granted the benefit: 1) work a thousand hours prior to your hire date, 2) be vested, 3) be employed on Dec. 31. I'm nearly there with # 1, and cannot do anything about # 3 until the end of the year, though I do plan to continue my employment. The target is to receive more stock in the privately owned company, granted to associates who met the requirements. I am finished with my work schedule for this week, and will have over the minimum when this week is included in the total.
Oddly enough: I don't know precisely what it amounts to! The complicated formula that is used for evaluating, deciding who gets what is far beyond my comprehension - I just know that I am nearly certain of qualifying. How the company decides the amount of stock apportioned to each employee is something I have never questioned, just thankful to be included as the recipient of the gift. The most recent evaluation of shares was over $42, not insignificant when you consider: entirely owned by the employees. It will be interesting if I can remember to pay attention from last year's benefits in order to make a comparison and see how much has accumulated. People who have been with the company for years claim to be millionaires, (that won't be me!) having accumulated stock and used the dividends to purchase even more. Pretty nice retirement, huh?
The guy who makes out the weekly schedule has been hearing too much whining from me. Urgently imploring, week after week, for more work: and not really for the paycheck! I have been working about twenty hours a week at my little jobette, while hoping for twenty five. My goal has been to accumulate enough time from week to week to have worked a thousand hours by the middle of October. As the months pass, and those pages on the calendar flip, it has been a struggle to get the time needed in order to receive employee benefits. There was a time, before the economy tanked and employers were more generous with workers the perks were easier to accrue. But in recent years, corporations have made guidelines more stringent and benefits harder to accumulate: tightening belts has become a necessity.
In order to be granted the benefit: 1) work a thousand hours prior to your hire date, 2) be vested, 3) be employed on Dec. 31. I'm nearly there with # 1, and cannot do anything about # 3 until the end of the year, though I do plan to continue my employment. The target is to receive more stock in the privately owned company, granted to associates who met the requirements. I am finished with my work schedule for this week, and will have over the minimum when this week is included in the total.
Oddly enough: I don't know precisely what it amounts to! The complicated formula that is used for evaluating, deciding who gets what is far beyond my comprehension - I just know that I am nearly certain of qualifying. How the company decides the amount of stock apportioned to each employee is something I have never questioned, just thankful to be included as the recipient of the gift. The most recent evaluation of shares was over $42, not insignificant when you consider: entirely owned by the employees. It will be interesting if I can remember to pay attention from last year's benefits in order to make a comparison and see how much has accumulated. People who have been with the company for years claim to be millionaires, (that won't be me!) having accumulated stock and used the dividends to purchase even more. Pretty nice retirement, huh?
Thursday, August 30, 2018
today is...
... my brother's birthday. I have been thinking of him all day. For a number of years, since our dad died in 2000, I have mailed my brother a gift card to go some place for ice cream on our dad's birthday, to celebrate the man who did love to eat a bowl of made-from-scratch peach or strawberry ice cream when fresh fruit is in season. Several days ago, I sent a gift card to my sister-in-law, and hope she took the peeps some place to sit and lick a big drippy cone and think about their grandpa. He was so crazy about those little people, and took such delight in spending time with his grandkids.
Some years ago, I realized that when your mom is gone, there is no guarantee that there is anybody who will remember or help you celebrate that day. I wrote him a card to let him know that I did, and would remember. Now I am remembering the card he sent me some years ago that had a picture of a dill pickle on the front. On the inside the wording was something like: 'bet you never expected to get a pickle for your birthday, didja?'
Some years ago, I realized that when your mom is gone, there is no guarantee that there is anybody who will remember or help you celebrate that day. I wrote him a card to let him know that I did, and would remember. Now I am remembering the card he sent me some years ago that had a picture of a dill pickle on the front. On the inside the wording was something like: 'bet you never expected to get a pickle for your birthday, didja?'
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