Dreamers see the sunny side

Yesterday was the first day of school.  I was pretty excited.  I actually thought that I would accomplish more with the kids gone to school all day and Sam gone to work.

Silly, Nicki.

It was a dream.  Just a dream.

My day started out right.  I took pictures of Rachel and then Keenan, our first day of school tradition.  Then I went for a walk.  I love my morning walks.  It's so nice out right now.  The mornings have just enough of a cool breeze to keep me from dying.

I made it back to the house in time to spend a little time with the boy before his first day.  He was a little worried about how it was all going to turn out.  He didn't have a schedule yet, but I assured him it would be fine.

Then I went to take a shower.  By the time I was done, Sam was awake.  We played with Bishop.  We joked around.  And everything seemed to indicate it would be a fabulous day.

I was having a massage shortly.  Sam had a job to go to.  And we would have plenty of time to invoice and I could get my writing done.  It was a good plan.

Of course just as I was leaving for the massage, Rachel started sending me SOS texts.  She was in the media center.  She didn't have a schedule.  She didn't know when she would get a schedule.  And she wanted help.

Yeah, that post massage mellow was completely harshed before it had begun.  As soon as I was done, I drove to the school.  It was pretty much the story of my week.  I went to the office and was directed to the media center.

As I walked in, Rachel walked over to meet me.  She told me that no one could believe that I was coming to help her.

me: Why wouldn't I?

Rachel:  It's not that you wouldn't; it's that their parents wouldn't.

In defense of these other parents, I'm sure they work.  They don't have the luxury of working from home to be at their kids' beck and call.  They don't have the time it takes to sit around mired in red tape and the bureaucracy.

Lucky for my kids...I do.

So, we were passed around a lot.  We were walked to the registrar.  And I pretty much was my cranky assertive self.

registrar: We're missing some paperwork from you.

me: No, you're not.  You simply misplaced the paperwork that was given to you.

Sure enough.  Part of Rachel's folder was with the registrar.  Part of Rachel's paperwork was with the counselor.  None of it was where it was supposed to in order for her to be transferred to her old high school.

Rachel was very appreciative.

Rachel: You realize that without your help, I would still be in the library?

me: Yup.

I took her home early.  I made cupcakes.  They are special ones.  I made yellow ones with chocolate fudgy middles and dark chocolate frosting.  I figured all the kids would deserve it after their first day back.

During the course of the day, I took great pleasure in teasing Rachel.  When she was assigned to a bus, I made my first comment.

me: Well, it's a good thing you have a bus to take you to a school where you have no classes.

Rachel: I know.  Right?

And then while I was making the cupcakes I decided to practice channeling my best school year mom.

me: Rachel, have you done your homework?

Rachel: Sure.  I did the homework I wasn't assigned for the classes I don't have.

We make the best of bad situations.  Rachel and Sam bonded over the cupcakes.  I could hear them talking about how great I was, how effective I was dealing with the school, and how yummy the cupcakes are.

I spread joy however I can, no matter how challenging the situation.

Dreamers cope

And I'm really good at coping.

We have several situations that are keeping us on our toes at the moment.  I say toes, but really, it's something else.  See, the air conditioning is limping along.  The coils seem to have frozen up from the excess use during our heat wave...that's lasted weeks on end.  So, we are lying low.  To not get overwhelmed by the heat.  The house was 80 stifling degrees yesterday.

I don't do well with heat. 

And then there's all of our nearly complete projects.  We have a new door that is helping with the energy efficiency from the great room to the garage.  Oh, but the door that was there, the door that was supposed to replace the original closet door in the foyer.  It still will.  It's just going to take a while.

Sam has to remove part of the jamb.  Then he'll be cutting back sheet rock.  And once that is complete he'll install a new 5/8 piece of wood so that he has something to screw the new door into.  In my experience, these projects never go smoothly.  I can say that with some authority since we've been in a near constant state of remodel since we first started dating three years ago.

No pressure.  Yet.  Only I am a little worried because my mother is coming to stay with is before and after the wedding.  And we both want the place to look good.  We've been talking about what we can do to get it in shape.  What projects can we accomplish to polish our diamond in the rough.

It should be interesting.  It won't be dull.  Our life never is.  And I like it just the way it is.  Although I wouldn't mind if it was a little cooler...

Dreamers are there in a crisis

At least we are. And I can say this with some examples to back up that claim. Take this very moment, for example, as I write this post on Sam's iPhone while he sleeps in the seat beside me.

Oh, did I mention that it is a car seat? Did I also mention that because it's a torrential downpour that the windows are up and that it is easily a balmy eighty degrees in here? Oh, and did mention that the car in question is parked in the ER?

Well, I suppose I took all the fun out of this story since you know neither of us is in jeopardy...really. And then there's Brian. Wish I could say the same about him. Oh,but I can't. I mostly feel sorry for him, but he pretty much was his own worst enemy this time.

Sometimes you just shouldn't poke the bear. Only in this story, the bear is actually Bishop. And the poking...well, it was still poking. That's why we're at the emergency room. And that's why Brian is getting his ear stitched up. And that's why I'm struggling to post from a phone instead of a laptop when I should be asleep.

At least I'm dry. At least it's not a regular occurrence. At least I can get this done for now.

Dreamers are problem solvers

We haven't mentioned the boat in a while. There was the de-masting that happened over Fourth of July Weekend, kind of putting a dark cloud over an otherwise perfect weekend. And I talked about how it was all under control, how I knew what we were going to do to get it fixed, yada yada yada.

Well, since then, I spent a week trying to get the boat towed. The wife and owner sent me an email on Tuesday, July 5th, asking me to fill out what I wanted done and they would tow the boat to their shop to look at it and give me an estimate.

Now, I'm not sure where you're from, but generally speaking, estimates are free. And if it's not free, that's usually mentioned from the start. And while it may seem like absorbing the estimate cost into the repair cost is this gift all wrapped up with a bow, it's not. It's ransom.

So, I dutifully filled out the paperwork and sent it back. Then I waited. Two days passed, no call. That's why I called them on Friday. And I was told that the wife/owner was at lunch. I called again in the afternoon, but no one answered.

I called back Monday morning and found out that the boat still hadn't even been towed. Really? And that was because I hadn't written that they were supposed to tow it on the work order.

me: It didn't say to write it on the work order. You said in the email I had to fill out what needed to be done to the boat and then you would tow it. Nowhere did it say I had to write it on the work order. It was implied. It was obvious. It was already stated.

More paperwork. More emails. Growing frustration.

So, the boat was towed Tuesday. And I had already lost a week. I waited and started calling a few days later. Sometimes I called twice a day. It didn't matter. Either the person I needed to speak with was out or at lunch. It didn't matter...11am or 2pm. I was justifiably frustrated.

There was a light at the end of the tunnel when I finally spoke to the woman I needed to on Monday, after the boat had been there just shy of a week. She told me she'd have an estimate for me in the afternoon. She was just waiting on the technician to itemize everything for her.

I waited and I waited. Finally, I called that Thursday after the boat had been there for a week and a half, and was told that there was a family emergency and the woman I needed to speak with was not going to return until Tuesday. Would that be okay?

me: No. But what are my options? She was going to have an estimate ready for me days ago. Can you give it to me?

Ah, but the woman I spoke with didn't have access to her computer. It didn't matter if I was okay or not.

Well, the estimate finally arrived on the 26th. And it was so steep that I thought about selling my kidney on the black market. It was actually going to cost more to repair the boat than it did to purchase it in the first place. So, I did what anyone who had been waiting for an estimate for three weeks only to discover that the cost was outrageous compared to the quality of the service, care and attention I had received. I blew a gasket and called the man who finally sent the estimate. The woman had never returned.

I'm thinking the family issue could be divorce, since I was told she was no longer with the company. And I wonder how they could even still have a company, given that it's being run into the ground. And I told Sam that if this home remodeling thing didn't work out, we could make a fortune working on boats.

Sam tried to call and talk to them on Monday about the price. That may be why I received...no, not a call from them, you sillies! These people don't call back. Duh. I received a call from the dock master. Matt wanted us to know that a tropical storm is descending upon Charleston, possibly, and that the boat is back at the day dock, unprotected.

That would be why I called and reamed these people out again. I received in return, no explanation, and an empty promise of a return call by 12:30. So, I called back at 12:45pm.

By then, I had found someone else to look at the boat who came highly recommended by Matt. He's going to look at the boat tomorrow. And with any luck, it will be repaired by the time the storm makes shore.

Oh, and if you live in the Charleston area and want to know where you should and shouldn't get work done, contact me. I'll tell you where to steer clear.

Bitch slapped by the universe

That's what I was.

Everything was set. We were going to finish paying off the boat this weekend. We were going to register the boat. I was going to give notice. Everything was set.

Then the universe intervened.

My IRS check, the one that is making everything possible...the boat, the business, leaving the job with a small amount of security to back my enthusiasm...MIA.

And that doesn't mean that it's in Miami. It means that they don't really know where it is. See, I called to see where it was since it was supposed to be here a week ago. Instead of having an answer...more questions. Seems the check was sent to Maryland, which is strange since I've never lived in Maryland. I'm not even sure I've ever passed through Maryland. Hell, I doubt I could pick Maryland off a map.

They won't reissue the check. Not until I haven't received it by May 2nd. Yup. And then they will track it and trace it and take anywhere from four to ten weeks to investigate it before they reissue it. Those bastards.

It seems it comes down to one of two options. Either my check was hijacked or some idiot keyed in my information incorrectly. Only, suspiciously enough, it was only my address that was wrong.

So, I did what anyone in my position would do. I asked for a supervisor. Oh, but there aren't any. They are just running a muck at the IRS with no supervisors. Really. I should have asked for...the Secretary of the Treasury maybe? And how can such an egregious error take place, but no one is responsible. How can I get screwed so frequently? I swear my luck is just a bit worse than...most.

Still, I try so hard to be optimistic. So, I tell myself that this is the way it's meant to be. I tell myself that must be this boat wasn't meant to be. Must be there is a better boat in store for us.

That's how I carry on.