New Year's night 2005, my home was still broken and battered from the 2 September hurricanes of 2004. The majority of contractors & handymen had still not returned my calls. It had been a trying and depressing holiday season.
The night before had been New Year's Eve which I never celebrate. But the noise and fireworks in the neighborhood had kept me awake. So this night I was really sleepy and decided to retire early.
As usual, I walked into the kitchen for one last drink of water. A familiar scent hit my nostrils! My father had a distinctive body aroma that became more pungent with age and illness. That night it was nearly over-powering! My father had been dead several years.
I began sniffing around the kitchen trying to figure out from where it was emanating. I couldn't understand why I had not noticed it before. Tired, I decided to investigate further in the morning.
Shortly after falling asleep, I experienced the most disturbing dream ever! My father was calling my name. All of a sudden, I found myself surrounded by incandescent light with my dad. A feeling of elation swept over me! I felt my spirit dancing inside this brilliant glowing luminescence. -- Until he spoke!
"The previous owner wants the house back," he told me sternly. "Everything will go back to the way it was in Stuart." His demeanor was austere.
I was confused. I told him there was no way that could happen since I have no mortgage.
"That doesn't matter." He shook his head. The dreaded words were repeated. His countenance was grim.
The next morning, I awoke with a feeling of distress. My dream had been so vivid! The strong scent in the kitchen was gone. But I would get whiffs of it in other rooms at different times.
Shortly after my father's passing, the living room fan often started spinning by itself, (when turned off) no breeze or draft from anywhere. It NEVER did that while he was alive!
About a month later, my friend Irene & I went to a psychic fair. Since I believe in reincarnation, I requested a psychic who could give me info on my past lives. As we seated, the psychic pointed directly at me. "Your father has been visiting you and you've smelled him," she said. (My jaw dropped!) "He has a message for you in a dream," she continued. "Be on the watch."
Now I was expecting another dream, one with a more positive tone. I was in denial about the first. Well, none was forthcoming! Apparently the negative warning was it!
I mentioned all of this to my friend, Margaret.
"You've got a demon," she stated, "because your father would never say anything like that to you."
I told her if it was a demon, it had better stuff itself into the ass of a fly and buzz out of here, because I would never live with a demon! I'd move heaven & earth to get that thing out of my house! Also, my memory was jogged, it was exactly the kind of thing my father would say to me!
Shortly after, I lost a whopping 60 Grand in G.M. Bonds. Now I was convinced my father's words were coming true, and I would soon lose my home! I was emotionally devastated! My anxiety attacks returned to the point that I had to join a therapy group.
I found it curious this happened after I reached a point where I was beginning to move forward with my life, and happily so. Why was my dad trying to drag me back to a time I struggled so hard to escape. A time I was so miserable I thought constantly of suicide! He should have been cheering me on! His message, was not one of love, but control. Was he the previous owner who wanted the house back?
I became furious at my father! Whenever I sensed him around, I asked him why he was haunting me. Was it to escape those 2 bitches he married, now dead as he. And why the hell didn't he warn me not to sell the G.M. Bonds?! Ugh! He could have spared me so much grief!
I felt as though I was being punished for moving on and being happy! I expected him to say he loved me and was proud of me. Instead, I was coldly informed he wanted his house back!
Another year passed, another psychic fair came to town. I arrived just as they were setting up. I got a different psychic this time. I told her everything that had happened and how disappointed and angry I had been with my father.
"It's HIS issue, not yours," she explained. "It's crucial that you close the past in order for positive events to enter your life. -- Almost the exact words from my therapist in group sessions.
The psychic asked if I was a writer. Embarrassed, I explained that I had given up. I had been so unsuccessful, I felt I wasn't talented enough. My father always called my writing career, "a fantasy". Both my mother and step-mother constantly told me I wasn't smart enough.
"Start again," she replied. "It's what the universe intended for you."
Monday, October 22, 2012
Sunday, October 14, 2012
A REVERSE VIEW OF THE WORLD
I was myopic, or near-sighted since the age of 16. Anything beyond arm's length looked blurry. An optometrist said this was only a temporary condition. He was right. It only lasted 39 years.
Nobody, especially a teenager wants to wear glasses. This was my geeky-looking stage, too. My natural blonde hair had darkened to the color of dead leaves. And worse, my nose suddenly reached its full growth before the rest of my face caught up. In those days the only styles available were the ones with cat-eye frames. By process of elimination, I picked out a light-blue pair. I wore them home.
The first words out of my mother mouth were, "They don't look good on you."
I angrily told her I couldn't read the blackboard! I suppose she'd rather I continue to fail everything!
On my first Report Card in High School I got 5 D's! -- But I did get a C plus in English! (A future writer was born!) Truth be told, I was never a good student. My father used to joke that Dianne thinks the alphabet begins with a C.
I wore my glasses only when seated at my desk, or the teacher was speaking. I didn't need them for reading, writing , or other close work. Once, a few bespectacled students walked over and welcomed me to the 4-eyes club.
Wearing them on dates or other social occasions was never a problem for me, because I never had any. This was true until well into middle age.
Although in my 20's I was traveling to Europe and other exotic places almost every year. Thankfully the styles had changed by then! I had cooler-looking frames as well as prescription sunglasses. I considered contact lenses, but discarded the idea as soon as I learned I would require glasses for reading.
In my 40's, lasik surgery became popular, but the price was too prohibitive for me. Besides, the procedure was scary. Should a nurse pinch the doctors behind during surgery, I'd end up sporting a permanent eye patch!
As I neared 50, I got my driver's licence. Around that time, came miraculous soft contact lenses that let you see both near & far. Of course I bought a pair!
Frustratingly, it took me nearly an hour to put them in my eyes. They stuck to my fingers far better than my eyeballs. If I happened to get make-up or a stye under them, my eyes burned and watered like crazy!
More than once, as I drove in heavy traffic, a lens would roll up under my eyelid. In a panic, I would have to blink it down while navigating the car. Suffering from anxiety attacks, I was already a risk on the road! I decided to stick with glasses that had flattering frames.
Meantime, my close vision was starting to deteriorate. Reading and close work suddenly became fuzzy. I was forced to buy reading glasses, or cheaters as we old folks call them.
In 2004 came the 2 back-to-back hurricanes and weeks spent navigating in darkness. I don't know if there was a connection, but almost immediately afterward, I became FAR-SIGHTED!!! I could actually distinguish leaves on treetops in my neighbors yard! --This had been impossible for nearly 4 decades! It was like a MIRACLE!!! And best of all, I no longer required glasses for driving or watching TV.
The optometrist told me this wasn't at all unusual, she called it "Second Sight". (I always thought that meant you saw dead people!) She also said this condition was "temporary". But I'm hoping it will last until I'm a spook myself. Because being myopic was the next thing to being blind!
Nobody, especially a teenager wants to wear glasses. This was my geeky-looking stage, too. My natural blonde hair had darkened to the color of dead leaves. And worse, my nose suddenly reached its full growth before the rest of my face caught up. In those days the only styles available were the ones with cat-eye frames. By process of elimination, I picked out a light-blue pair. I wore them home.
The first words out of my mother mouth were, "They don't look good on you."
I angrily told her I couldn't read the blackboard! I suppose she'd rather I continue to fail everything!
On my first Report Card in High School I got 5 D's! -- But I did get a C plus in English! (A future writer was born!) Truth be told, I was never a good student. My father used to joke that Dianne thinks the alphabet begins with a C.
I wore my glasses only when seated at my desk, or the teacher was speaking. I didn't need them for reading, writing , or other close work. Once, a few bespectacled students walked over and welcomed me to the 4-eyes club.
Wearing them on dates or other social occasions was never a problem for me, because I never had any. This was true until well into middle age.
Although in my 20's I was traveling to Europe and other exotic places almost every year. Thankfully the styles had changed by then! I had cooler-looking frames as well as prescription sunglasses. I considered contact lenses, but discarded the idea as soon as I learned I would require glasses for reading.
In my 40's, lasik surgery became popular, but the price was too prohibitive for me. Besides, the procedure was scary. Should a nurse pinch the doctors behind during surgery, I'd end up sporting a permanent eye patch!
As I neared 50, I got my driver's licence. Around that time, came miraculous soft contact lenses that let you see both near & far. Of course I bought a pair!
Frustratingly, it took me nearly an hour to put them in my eyes. They stuck to my fingers far better than my eyeballs. If I happened to get make-up or a stye under them, my eyes burned and watered like crazy!
More than once, as I drove in heavy traffic, a lens would roll up under my eyelid. In a panic, I would have to blink it down while navigating the car. Suffering from anxiety attacks, I was already a risk on the road! I decided to stick with glasses that had flattering frames.
Meantime, my close vision was starting to deteriorate. Reading and close work suddenly became fuzzy. I was forced to buy reading glasses, or cheaters as we old folks call them.
In 2004 came the 2 back-to-back hurricanes and weeks spent navigating in darkness. I don't know if there was a connection, but almost immediately afterward, I became FAR-SIGHTED!!! I could actually distinguish leaves on treetops in my neighbors yard! --This had been impossible for nearly 4 decades! It was like a MIRACLE!!! And best of all, I no longer required glasses for driving or watching TV.
The optometrist told me this wasn't at all unusual, she called it "Second Sight". (I always thought that meant you saw dead people!) She also said this condition was "temporary". But I'm hoping it will last until I'm a spook myself. Because being myopic was the next thing to being blind!
Monday, October 8, 2012
THE NOT SO HANDY MEN
Hiring a handyman under the best of circumstances is often a pain. Usually, I go down a list of numbers in the phone book or newspaper leaving messages on answering machines. Only half return my call, two thirds of those agree to come out and give me an estimate. Half of them don't keep the appointment. And should I hire one, there is a fifty-fifty chance they will not show up. And worse they never bother to call, letting me wait and wonder, wasting my time. Other single women claim the same problem.
One even stated on his answering machine that if he didn't find the job interesting, he wouldn't bother returning my call. I left no message, I just hung up!
I've been told that Florida handymen can cherry-pick their jobs due to the many senior citizens here and all the new people moving down. They can always find work, few are interested in repeat customers. Many are indifferent, some are downright rude!
After the 2 hurricanes struck, it was the same set of problems, plus everyone had jacked their prices way up as well. It was a trying time that dragged on for months. I had learned the hard way to get plenty of estimates before hiring anyone. Also to get everything in writing, even the things they claim to do for free!
During my bat infestation, I had a devil of a time finding someone with a ladder high enough to reach the top of my 30 ft cathedral ceiling. The right side where it formed a V needed to be sealed. I told the man to seal both sides as long as he was up there. "No!" he snapped back, "it doesn't need it!"
Would he have spoken to me that way if I had been a man? -- I doubt it! At one point, he also criticised my housekeeping.
Now I had been living upstairs in my bedroom for a month! I couldn't stay downstairs long enough to clean, because the smell of bat urine was intolerable. Not to mention inhaling the fumes put me at risk for histoplasmosis. -- This fellow was only one of many, I never hired again!
Each new handyman nearly always criticizes the work of his predecessor. They in turn are criticized by the next, which makes me wonder if any of them actually know what they are doing. Some of these so-called professionals had questionable skills. They did obviously shoddy work, but demanded a lot of money.
On occasion, I do find that rare gem of a handyman. Someone who is highly skilled, ethical, reasonably priced, reliable, and polite. Trouble is, they tend to move away.
Frequently, I have been told I need to find a husband, that would solve my problem. NO, that would only create worse problems! Not to mention, it's a drastic solution! Besides a lot of men just aren't handy around the house, some are helpless!
My father could fix anything. He was as skillful with his hands as he was smart with figures. My brother and I did not inherit that gene. Back when my middle-aged cousin was visiting; he, our mothers and I went out to dinner while Dad was away. Upon our return, we discovered a fuse had blown. My cousin instructed me to turn on all the lights in the house while he unscrewed each fuse so we could locate the bad one.
When I related this incident to my father, he laughed uproariously! My cousin had grown up on farm, he should know how to spot a bad fuse, Dad declared. I reminded him that this was the same man who accidentally poisoned all his cows, forcing the family farm to be sold.
My father escorted me to the fuse box and explained how to spot a blown fuse. It was so simple, it was embarrassing. This was at our old Stuart house. My current home has levers instead of fuses, easier yet!
Recently, my smoke detector expired after 10 years. I hired my computer guy Jake to get and install a new one. He did a perfect job and he's plenty smart. But Jake's just not the type I'd hire to climb up on my roof and nail down a shingle or pour concrete on my driveway.
I was fortunate enough to find an outstanding handyman for these kinds of outdoor jobs. I've even recommended him to friends. (Usually I always warning them NEVER to hire so-&-so because he's incompetent or he'll rip you off! ) Anyway, I'm losing this exceptional man because he's retiring to another state. He will be missed!
Soon I'll be back to weeding through all the chaff searching for another gem like D.R. Swartwood.
One even stated on his answering machine that if he didn't find the job interesting, he wouldn't bother returning my call. I left no message, I just hung up!
I've been told that Florida handymen can cherry-pick their jobs due to the many senior citizens here and all the new people moving down. They can always find work, few are interested in repeat customers. Many are indifferent, some are downright rude!
After the 2 hurricanes struck, it was the same set of problems, plus everyone had jacked their prices way up as well. It was a trying time that dragged on for months. I had learned the hard way to get plenty of estimates before hiring anyone. Also to get everything in writing, even the things they claim to do for free!
During my bat infestation, I had a devil of a time finding someone with a ladder high enough to reach the top of my 30 ft cathedral ceiling. The right side where it formed a V needed to be sealed. I told the man to seal both sides as long as he was up there. "No!" he snapped back, "it doesn't need it!"
Would he have spoken to me that way if I had been a man? -- I doubt it! At one point, he also criticised my housekeeping.
Now I had been living upstairs in my bedroom for a month! I couldn't stay downstairs long enough to clean, because the smell of bat urine was intolerable. Not to mention inhaling the fumes put me at risk for histoplasmosis. -- This fellow was only one of many, I never hired again!
Each new handyman nearly always criticizes the work of his predecessor. They in turn are criticized by the next, which makes me wonder if any of them actually know what they are doing. Some of these so-called professionals had questionable skills. They did obviously shoddy work, but demanded a lot of money.
On occasion, I do find that rare gem of a handyman. Someone who is highly skilled, ethical, reasonably priced, reliable, and polite. Trouble is, they tend to move away.
Frequently, I have been told I need to find a husband, that would solve my problem. NO, that would only create worse problems! Not to mention, it's a drastic solution! Besides a lot of men just aren't handy around the house, some are helpless!
My father could fix anything. He was as skillful with his hands as he was smart with figures. My brother and I did not inherit that gene. Back when my middle-aged cousin was visiting; he, our mothers and I went out to dinner while Dad was away. Upon our return, we discovered a fuse had blown. My cousin instructed me to turn on all the lights in the house while he unscrewed each fuse so we could locate the bad one.
When I related this incident to my father, he laughed uproariously! My cousin had grown up on farm, he should know how to spot a bad fuse, Dad declared. I reminded him that this was the same man who accidentally poisoned all his cows, forcing the family farm to be sold.
My father escorted me to the fuse box and explained how to spot a blown fuse. It was so simple, it was embarrassing. This was at our old Stuart house. My current home has levers instead of fuses, easier yet!
Recently, my smoke detector expired after 10 years. I hired my computer guy Jake to get and install a new one. He did a perfect job and he's plenty smart. But Jake's just not the type I'd hire to climb up on my roof and nail down a shingle or pour concrete on my driveway.
I was fortunate enough to find an outstanding handyman for these kinds of outdoor jobs. I've even recommended him to friends. (Usually I always warning them NEVER to hire so-&-so because he's incompetent or he'll rip you off! ) Anyway, I'm losing this exceptional man because he's retiring to another state. He will be missed!
Soon I'll be back to weeding through all the chaff searching for another gem like D.R. Swartwood.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
FINANCIAL & OTHER TYPES OF INSECURITY
After the death of my father, I was sitting pretty financially. I had enough money to last well into old age as long as I was frugal. Since I limit my wild spending sprees to Thrift Shops and Dollar Stores, I felt secure.
Not long after my house was repaired from the 2 hurricanes, I received a call from my Financial Advisor. He wanted to come over and talk. I thought something was up, because this was most unusual.
Within 5 seconds after stepping inside my house, he asked if I ever intended to get married. -- It seemed a strange and rather personal question. I told him, "No, I honestly don't see it in my future."
There was a problem, he said. I held my breath. He inquired if I was aware of what was happening with General Motors. At the time this was all over the news. But I was still unsure how this affected me.
"The bulk of your investments are in G.M. Bonds," he told me, "G.M. could go under!"
"What!?" I exclaimed. I reminded him of my instructions to put me in only the safest investments possible!
"I thought nothing could be safer then G.M.," he replied.
Yikes! Later on the evening news, there was talk of General Motors going bankrupt. Geez!!! I'd have to sell my house and live in a tent in the woods! I'd be eating cat food and crickets.
I phoned my Financial Advisor and told him to get me out of G.M. fast! Yes, I knew I'd lose a lot of money. But at least I'd be left with something! Well, that move cost me $60,000.!!! And shortly after, came the news that our government was going to bail out G.M.!
What??? This was unprecedented. I didn't know they were even allowed to do that! I thought it was unconstitutional since General Motors is not a government business. This fell under the category of SOCIALISM! And it happened on PRESIDENT GEORGE BUSH'S watch too, folks!
I should have left my money alone. Unfortunately, I don't own a crystal ball.
I started looking for employment. I had been out of the work force a long time. Considering my history, I doubted I could pass any type of mental health screening. Trying to explain to prospective employers that I had severe anxiety attacks, O.C.D. and other disorders I won't mention, would probably get my application shredded before I was out the door. Plus I understand too well why someone would go postal. To say I'm not a people-person is an understatement.
Besides the above, I wasn't young, and neither was I computer savvy. Soon, I discovered I was unemployable. But I needed income! The few jobs I qualified for, payed peanuts and wouldn't hire me anyway.
Desperate, I emptied my bank account and gave it to my Financial Advisor. I needed some way to generate income, no matter how small. And that's exactly what I got!
I'm constantly looking around for ways to generate more income. Most I have looked into, are outright scams. Some are legitimate, but cost too much up front, with no guarantee of revenue. And Lord knows, I have no head for business or figures.
Of course the Nigerian Prince has emailed! As well as the dying wealthy widow who wants to transfer all her millions to me because she knows in her heart that I will be generous with those who have less. -- Yeah right!
Fortunately, my big loss could be written off on my taxes and carried over from year to year. So I haven't had to pay Income tax. I am one of those victim/moochers of whom Mitt Romney referred with such disdain. Needless to say, Lord Romney will not be getting my vote!
My Financial Advisor had been wonderful during my father's illness. He even drove my dad to chemotherapy once. It was the time I had to stay home to mop the kitchen floor while waiting for a refrigerator repairman. I told my C.P.A. I didn't blame him because it had been my decision to get out of G.M..
The C.P.A. disagreed. He explained the situation didn't happen over night, there had been enough red flags along the way. Had my Financial Advisor been on his toes, he could have gotten me out safely in plenty of time.
That Financial Advisor left the business a short time later and moved to another state. Now, I have a new one. So far, I'm more than pleased with him. He is prudent with what I have left. Plus the poor fellow has put up with my paranoia caused by his predecessor.
Now, I'm following a life-long passion by writing and publishing my own books. This gives me a great amount of satisfaction and fulfillment, but very little monetarily.
I'm frequently on the receiving end of unsolicited advice; others insist that I need to do this or that with my life, time, etc.. Frankly, it annoys the hell out of me! As long as I am not sucking the tit of the Taxpayer, stay out of my business!
You can have perfect plans, do everything right, and still be blind-sided.
I would be lying if I told you the future doesn't scare me. I have two options in the coming years. ONE: A little, run-down hacienda in some developing third world country. TWO: I could wrap my lips around my father's old semi-automatic. -- The one I choose all depends on my future health.
Not long after my house was repaired from the 2 hurricanes, I received a call from my Financial Advisor. He wanted to come over and talk. I thought something was up, because this was most unusual.
Within 5 seconds after stepping inside my house, he asked if I ever intended to get married. -- It seemed a strange and rather personal question. I told him, "No, I honestly don't see it in my future."
There was a problem, he said. I held my breath. He inquired if I was aware of what was happening with General Motors. At the time this was all over the news. But I was still unsure how this affected me.
"The bulk of your investments are in G.M. Bonds," he told me, "G.M. could go under!"
"What!?" I exclaimed. I reminded him of my instructions to put me in only the safest investments possible!
"I thought nothing could be safer then G.M.," he replied.
Yikes! Later on the evening news, there was talk of General Motors going bankrupt. Geez!!! I'd have to sell my house and live in a tent in the woods! I'd be eating cat food and crickets.
I phoned my Financial Advisor and told him to get me out of G.M. fast! Yes, I knew I'd lose a lot of money. But at least I'd be left with something! Well, that move cost me $60,000.!!! And shortly after, came the news that our government was going to bail out G.M.!
What??? This was unprecedented. I didn't know they were even allowed to do that! I thought it was unconstitutional since General Motors is not a government business. This fell under the category of SOCIALISM! And it happened on PRESIDENT GEORGE BUSH'S watch too, folks!
I should have left my money alone. Unfortunately, I don't own a crystal ball.
I started looking for employment. I had been out of the work force a long time. Considering my history, I doubted I could pass any type of mental health screening. Trying to explain to prospective employers that I had severe anxiety attacks, O.C.D. and other disorders I won't mention, would probably get my application shredded before I was out the door. Plus I understand too well why someone would go postal. To say I'm not a people-person is an understatement.
Besides the above, I wasn't young, and neither was I computer savvy. Soon, I discovered I was unemployable. But I needed income! The few jobs I qualified for, payed peanuts and wouldn't hire me anyway.
Desperate, I emptied my bank account and gave it to my Financial Advisor. I needed some way to generate income, no matter how small. And that's exactly what I got!
I'm constantly looking around for ways to generate more income. Most I have looked into, are outright scams. Some are legitimate, but cost too much up front, with no guarantee of revenue. And Lord knows, I have no head for business or figures.
Of course the Nigerian Prince has emailed! As well as the dying wealthy widow who wants to transfer all her millions to me because she knows in her heart that I will be generous with those who have less. -- Yeah right!
Fortunately, my big loss could be written off on my taxes and carried over from year to year. So I haven't had to pay Income tax. I am one of those victim/moochers of whom Mitt Romney referred with such disdain. Needless to say, Lord Romney will not be getting my vote!
My Financial Advisor had been wonderful during my father's illness. He even drove my dad to chemotherapy once. It was the time I had to stay home to mop the kitchen floor while waiting for a refrigerator repairman. I told my C.P.A. I didn't blame him because it had been my decision to get out of G.M..
The C.P.A. disagreed. He explained the situation didn't happen over night, there had been enough red flags along the way. Had my Financial Advisor been on his toes, he could have gotten me out safely in plenty of time.
That Financial Advisor left the business a short time later and moved to another state. Now, I have a new one. So far, I'm more than pleased with him. He is prudent with what I have left. Plus the poor fellow has put up with my paranoia caused by his predecessor.
Now, I'm following a life-long passion by writing and publishing my own books. This gives me a great amount of satisfaction and fulfillment, but very little monetarily.
I'm frequently on the receiving end of unsolicited advice; others insist that I need to do this or that with my life, time, etc.. Frankly, it annoys the hell out of me! As long as I am not sucking the tit of the Taxpayer, stay out of my business!
You can have perfect plans, do everything right, and still be blind-sided.
I would be lying if I told you the future doesn't scare me. I have two options in the coming years. ONE: A little, run-down hacienda in some developing third world country. TWO: I could wrap my lips around my father's old semi-automatic. -- The one I choose all depends on my future health.
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