If money is the root of all evil, I'm begging at the feet of the devil.

Money Talk -- The Pretenders -- 1994



Most times, my life is OK. I will probably never be rich. It's likely that I will never fall squarely into the moniker of "middle class". My own choices have brought me to this point in my life, and usually, I really am OK with that.

Except when the unexpected happens..........and we are unprepared for it.

My Mother got a call yesterday from a friend, a retired fireman that she worked with for many years. He now owns a roofing and window business. She had called him to come and look at the roof on our house last week because I had noticed that a shingle had come loose. He came, fixed the shingle and advised her that we would, in fact, need a new roof. We knew that was inevitable as the roof is very, very old. He asked that she give him a few days to work out a price for her.

The call came in the afternoon. The roof needs to be stripped to the wood. There are already 2 sets of shingles up there and they need to come off. ASAP. He told her that the shingles are so old that they are "crystallizing". That basically means that they are so fragile that they are ready to shatter and fall off. Since we live in New England, he strongly advised that the roof be done before winter. He does not think that it would last through another cold season.

The entire cost? 5,800 dollars.

The problem? Where will it come from?

We don't have 5,800 dollars.

We don't have any savings.

I can't get a loan because I am still paying off past credit card debt, have several Parent loans for the Princess' college education, and I am not an owner of the house.

My Mother can't get a home equity loan because my Grandmother left the house to 4 of her daughters before she died. My Mother has life use, but all 4 daughters would have to sign for a loan as they are all co-owners of the house. None of them have spoken to each other in years. They have refused requests from my Mother in the past. A personal loan is out of the question as she is semi-retired, only works 19 hours per week and is still paying off another loan.

Two generations of single women raising children alone. Two generations of near poverty.

We just get to the point where we are pulling ourselves out of the mire......and we get sucked back in.

I honestly don't know what to do to help the situation. For the past 19 years, every single repair, every single improvement, every single piece of necessary work done on this property has been out of our pockets, even though the other 3 sisters co-own the house with my Mother. My Grandmother originally wanted to leave the house only to my Mother, as all of the others already owned their own properties ( some have multiple homes), but an attorney with an agenda talked my Grandmother out of her decision. So, my Mother was left with the generous gift of a house that she can barely afford to maintain. Once my Grandmother died, my Mother's sisters showed their true colors and left her.......and the house behind. They washed their hands of any responsibility. When my Mother dies, however, all 3 of them will be waiting at the attorney's office to collect their share.

So, we are in a situation with little hope of a solution. 5,800 dollars doesn't appear out of nowhere.

I am considering trying to sell my car.





If it wasn't so black, I might consider selling my soul.

No time for talking I got nothin’ to say

The Kinks - 1969



So, instead, I will whet your curious appetites with pictures.

I know. I'm thoughtful that way.

Or lazy.

Remember all my bitching and pissing and moaning about refinishing furniture for the Princess? Remember that?

I guess I let all that angst completely slip my pea-brain. I forgot to show you the before and after pics of the pieces we refinished. So here they are in all their glory. I'll have to include some explanations cause asshat Blogger REFUSES to post them in the correct order and I have no patience for fuckin around with the HTML crap.

Where I can recall, I'll give you an idea of what we paid for the pieces.....not to be a monetarily focused ass, but because it shows what great bargains and hidden beauty can be found if you look hard enough. A good portion of this stuff was found either on Craigslist, or at a furniture consignment/flea shop in a nearby town. I wish the photos could truly capture the beauty of these old things after some TLC.

Here we go!


Little painted cabinet before. We paid 25 dollars for it:

Little un-painted cabinet after. Used to store ritzy Calphalon pots:

Vintage secretary. 80 bucks....before. It was covered in a sticky dark brown finish, and the inside had been ruined with an overlay of dark stain:


Sorry about poor quality picture. Shoot me. Vintage secretary after. It is truly breathtaking in person:

Church pew. 50 bucks. No before picture. The Princess uses it for extra seating behind her table.

This little box was a dark brown, almost painted finish. No before pic. Upon refinishing it, we realized that it had been handmade. We attached some legs, stained it and the Princess uses it as a coffee table with linen storage inside. It hung around our garage for the past 5 years. Price-5 dollars


Vintage corner shelf. Also no picture of it pre-refinishing. It was very dark and VERY scratched. It's an old piece and much more beautiful in person. The Princess doesn't yet have all her books unpacked, so it's fairly empty for now. Price- 30 dollars
I really wish I could reverse these pics. These are the afters of an extremely old rocking chair. It belonged to the Grandmother of a good friend of my Mother's. It was given to the Princess about 12-15 years ago because she fell in love with it. As you will see, it was A MESS! I tried for years to throw it away......but now I'm glad the family would not let me. The chair was free, the re upholstery cost about 100 dollars. The photo washes out the colors in the material. The little spots are almost like confetti.

Here are the before shots of the same rocker.


The Princess' beloved bed ( again, Blogger is being an ass and the afters are first). This was a big-ticket item. I paid 250 for it. She has wanted this exact type of bed since she was a little kid. So, this was my graduation gift to her. It's hard to tell, but the bed has been painted a very, very light color green. After:

During. I spent about 3 FULL days stripping the multiple layers of cracked and peeling paint. This is a close-up shot of the detail on the rosettes:

Before. The poor condition is hard to see, but trust me.....it was bad:

Little vintage record cabinet. After:

Record cabinet, before. It was deeply scratched and the finish almost appeared to have been painted brown. 25 dollars:

Vintage side table after. It had been very nicked and scratched. 20 dollars:

Vintage side table before. You can see a little bit of the damage in the lower right hand corner of the table.:
Little vintage bookcase after. This was another MESS. Water damaged, scratched, generally beat up. It is a very rich color with outstanding wood grain after refinishing:

Bookcase before. I think this one cost 20 dollars:

So, there's a little tour of our hard work. The Princess' place really is adorable. When you see it all put together, she has got some really nice items with a lot of history behind them. It was a tough few months, but I'm glad she's settled and happy in her new place.



However, if she ever decides to move again, she had better have a revolving line of credit at Thomasville.

When I allow it to be, it has no control over me......................

I own my fear so it doesn't own me -- Peter Gabriel-- Darkness -- 2002


Edited on 07/26/07 - Apparently, my link to the crux of this tale stopped working after a very short time. Here is another. Go read, it helps you follow the tale.


When I was 7, I got a bike. It was a gift to me. A complete surprise. A brand-shiny-new bike with a banana seat and sparkling spokes. My Mother did not have enough money to buy me such a fancy bike, but she had a co-worker who did. An older woman who had never been married and had no children of her own. This woman, Rose, became friends with my mother when they worked together. Rose bought me the bike, not for any special occasion, but because she thought I should have one.

I can vividly remember Rose pulling into our driveway, horn tooting, calling my name. I raced down the stairs to see what she wanted. She proudly pulled the bike out of the back of her car and presented it to me. I was puzzled at first, but my puzzlement quickly gave way to excitement and pride. I loved that bike. I loved that I could finally join the neighborhood kids in their adventures. I didn't have to stay behind any more.

That day, I rode around and around our neighborhood until it was dark. My mother had to call me in for dinner, and then again for bedtime. We dutifully locked my new bike in our assigned garage behind out three family apartment building. We couldn't bring it into the apartment, although I begged mightily. It was 3 flights up.

I followed this routine for several days, until, on about the 5th day, I yanked open the garage door, ready to ride. The bike was gone. Stolen. I can still recall the hot anger, the tears on my cheeks. I had been violated and had learned a very difficult lesson.

When I was 10, my mother and I returned home from a Saturday at my grandmother's house. When we rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, we found our apartment door open. We had been robbed. I remember the fear as my mother and I surveyed the rooms. Counted our losses. I also remember my mother's tears. The thieves had stolen our only television, my cassette player, my mother's police scanner. They stole other small sentimental items and toted them away in an afghan my grandmother had hand-made. The loss of that afghan is what my mother was most upset about. Once again, I understood how vulnerable we were. How simple it had been for a stranger to violate our lives.

When I was 14, I was mugged on the way home from school. By another student, a football player on our High School team. He had followed me until I was in a lonely, remote location. He trapped me on a highway overpass and demanded that I come with him. When I refused, he ripped a gold necklace and a pendant off of my neck and brazenly sauntered away. I remember the terror I felt. Alone and defenseless against a big, angry male. I also remember being too scared to identify him to my mother's cousin, a Police officer. I was afraid to return to school and have him retaliate. I was finally able to admit who he was and he was arrested. But the fear and wariness never left me.

By the time I was an older teen, I had left behind my fears. The lessons that my young life had taught me seemed trite and uncool. I became bold with teenaged bravado. I partied with strangers, took rides from people I did not know, stayed out for days at a time. I had grown weary about being warned to be safe. I had heard enough.

Then I had my daughter and my perception about safety shifted again. I was much more cautious. I scanned my memory for all the lessons I had been taught by my Police/Fire department family members: Don't take the same routes home everyday. Never drive with your bag on the passenger seat of your car. Always lock your car door as soon as you get inside. Never walk your dog after 11:30 at night. The list went on and on. All of the inconsequential pieces of advice suddenly made sense to me. I had another human being to protect. I needed to keep my daughter safe at all costs.

When she was 18 months old, I went to a day-long concert in New Jersey with a friend. By that point, my mother, my daughter and I had moved to a new apartment in a safer neighborhood. This apartment was on the first floor, and my daughter and I shared a bedroom at the back of the house. Since I was not due back home until very late, my mother had bathed my daughter and put her in her crib. When I got home after midnight, I turned on a small light in the bedroom to get undressed. In the dim light, I saw that our air conditioner was partially hanging out of the window. The window that was less than 2 feet from my daughter's crib. Someone had tried to break into our apartment, but had apparently been scared off. My daughter slept a few feet away, blissfully unaware of the danger. The next day, our neighbor advised that she had heard some noises, turned on her backyard lights and yelled out her window. She had scared off the intruder.

I was uneasy for several nights after that. We had always installed window locks on our apartment windows, but had not done so when we put the air conditioner in. About a month after that incident, a local man was arrested for a string of burglaries/rapes/assaults on women. He had always gained entry through an unlocked window.

I have tried to keep these events in perspective. Where we live now, there are locks on all the windows, even the ones with air conditioners in them. There is a plexi-glass panel over the glass panes in our back door. There are dead-bolts on the entryways. We have smoke detectors on every level, carbon monoxide detectors in the basement, floodlights in the yard. The neighborhood where I live now is very safe. The kind of place where you can leave your car unlocked. The doors to your house unlocked..........but I don't. I learned my lessons young and I have not forgotten them.

Some would assume, because I live in Connecticut that all of the neighborhoods are safe. There is this pervasive, yet false assumption that all of Connecticut is wealth and rolling hills and New England charm. Nothing could be further from the truth. The city in which I was raised has an alarming murder rate. Crime is rampant, gangs are running the streets and the Police are outnumbered. Some citizens have called in the Guardian Angels to assist with policing the streets. I no longer live in that city, but I still work there every day.

Some places in my state are, in fact, graced with obscene amounts of wealth. Most areas, however, are filled with middle class neighborhoods populated by families who work hard for what they have. They are neighborhoods where people move to raise families. They are the places we all consider safe.

Until something like this happens.

A few scant minutes from where I live. A few blocks from where my co-worker lives. A neighborhood where the residents felt safe. A nice place to grow up, to raise a family, to retire. I cannot begin to comprehend the madness, the terror, the devastation that was wreaked in a 6 hour period.

I just can't get my head around it all. I sit in my home and watch the coverage of the story. My home that is locked and protected.


But deep down, I am still afraid that it's not enough. Deep down, I'm just afraid.

People do you hear me, just give me the sign

I Want It All -- Queen -- 1989


Didn't post for days at a time. Didn't care. Too busy.

Now I can't stop. Someone shut me up.

But not before I scream.

Lumpkin is back. And I apparently raised a dumbass for a daughter. Not only is she falling for his same-ole line of bullshit, she has also verbally accepted a job.

That she doesn't really want.

Because she is acting desperate again. It's a good thing I'm at work. I might punch her.

The job is at a fantastic school. Really. However, the school is in a shitty area, she will basically be a teaching assistant with a DUAL MASTERS DEGREE, the pay is horrid, the position doesn't extend over the summer, AND SHE DOESN'T REALLY UNDERSTAND THE FINE PRINT OF THE CONTRACT!!!! But she said yes anyway.

AAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHH.


She just called me all proud of herself for accepting a job. Happy and relieved to be employed. I quickly spit on my Mother-Of-The-Year award and basically asked her what in the friggin hell she was thinking!

So much for the tenuous mending of our relationship. I'm sure she's on the phone right now, blubbering her woes to that asshole of a boyfriend. And, I'm also sure he'll cluck and console and.....................then show up to stay for a long weekend. Or 3.



I really need a break from my life right now. These past few months have been extraordinarily stressful. I am sick of being a Mother, a Daughter, a pet owner, an employee. I'm just sick of it all.

Of trying my best and watching it fall apart in front of my eyes.




So, anyone up for having a long-term house guest?

She's about a woman as a woman can be, I said...........

That girl is rock 'n' roll -- Ian Hunter -- 1983


Go over and check out Annie. She nominated me for a Rockin' Girl Blogger award and now she is my very best friend, sister, surrogate grandparent for when my kid has kids, and I have willed all of my dogs to her. Thanks Annie! The pups will be there shortly.

BTW, the rest of you go and give her Blog a good look-see. She's pretty damn rockin' herself, hence the passing of the award.

I am afraid, however, that I can't name only 5 recipients of my own. Not because there aren't great Bloggers out there, but because several of them would have my fat ass on a platter if I nominated them. Instead, I will recommend that you all grab yourselves a cup-o-sumthin and settle in for some good reading.

I will duck and cover and say go read Betty. She can literally make me clench my Kegels with her observations on people and stupidity......and Whitey.

How's about Ruth? Ruth can be funny and poignant and observant.....and she smacks a mean tennis ball. Give her a try.

Take a gander at Belinda. Belinda was the first Blogger I ever read, courtesy of a little link on a Poodle list. I still love following her recountings after all this time. She is the epitome of grace under pressure, having dealt with some tough stuff in the past few years. She also has a little girl who is frighteningly smart. Just the way I like them.

There's Crimson. A good person, through and through. She gives of herself to so many others, especially a lonely and neglected little boy from her neighborhood, even though she has her own family to care for.

Another fav, Mrs. C. We know her, we love her. She's a dog trainer, a Mother and a funny chick with a great rack (or so I've been told).

And BA, passionate and smart and responsible for raising two terrific boys.

And.............

Well really, just go to my Blog Roll and see for yourself. They are all wonderful and strangely enough, they are all women Bloggers. If I don't recommend everyone, you might miss out on the pleasure of what they have to share. So go........read and learn. Laugh and maybe cry.

Then when you are done, go and visit IAI to have your ass kicked.




And girls, if you want the button, feel free to lift it.....because you all rock.

Did she make you cry , make you break down.........

Shatter your illusions of love -- Gold Dust Woman -- Fleetwood Mac -- 1977



I have been trying to get this post out for several days now. It just won't come together. So even though the post is originally dated Monday, it's actually Wednesday.

Things have been slowly disintegrating in our family.

The Princess is completely moved into her apartment. Settled and unpacked. That is where the happy story ends.

I have been somewhat forthcoming about my concerns with the Princess' boyfriend, Lumpkin on this Blog.......here, here, and again here. I haven't been so forthcoming with her. I have learned that I need to keep my big, opinionated trap shut if I want to allow my daughter to live her own life.......to make her own mistakes. So I have. Until this past week.

Now that she is on her own and pursuing work as a teacher, she is maturing by leaps and bounds. She has become comfortable with living on her own, has taken charge of creating her little nest, has been dutifully going on interviews, filing mountains of necessary paperwork for teaching certification, and has generally settled into her life. He, on the other hand, has done NOTHING.

Except, that is, to come and visit her at her new place. He came about 3 weeks ago and stayed for 4 days. They planned the visit in conjunction with a big-name movie filming in a nearby town. I wasn't thrilled, but.....whatever. Her loser boyfriend, her poor decision.

My Mother and I saw little of them that weekend, although we did take them out to a very pricey brunch on the morning before he left to go back home. Things were really ambling along as normal until the Princess, unwittingly, told me that she had been forced to demand that Lumpkin GO HOME. Because he wanted to stay. Apparently 4 days was not long enough for him to be here.

And here was where I made my first mistake. I got my stupid, big-mouthed, stubborn, nasty Irish up. Because Lumpkin is basically a thoughtless, self-centered, lazy asshole. And I am sick of him.

You see, the Princess does not yet have a job. She is still interviewing and looking, but because she is going to be a teacher, most places are not finalizing their offers until August. She has been offered a job even though it is not one she really wants. Mainly because it is a 9 month teaching schedule, so the salary is appreciably lower than what she had hoped for, and she would be left with the task of looking for a summer job every year.

Sooooooo, for now she is paying rent, bearing the brunt of moving related expenses ( TV, Internet, Phone, etc), all while trying to hang onto every penny she can. If my Princess is anything, she is tight with the money. She saves and hordes and scrimps, but she is starting to become a bit frantic that money is flying out of her checkbook and does not appear to be replenishing itself anytime soon. My Mother has been buying her some groceries every week, and I have been paying her student loans until she has a paycheck. She is living an extremely meager existence right now.

A wise boyfriend might consider this current state of affairs and decide that he would come for his 4 day vacation armed with, uh, maybe SOME FOOD. OR MONEY.

Not Lumpkin. He came, he ate, he slept, he ate some more, and she ferried him all over town because the LOSER DOESN'T EVEN HAVE A CAR BECAUSE HE NEVER GOT A DRIVER's LICENSE!!! He never bought a meal, he never offered to pay for anything.

And then he wanted to stay! probably because he has little reason to return home. He is working approximately 8 hours per week at bare minimum wage, filing medical records at a family friend's office. He has had the benefit of 5 YEARS of college education and he is doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING with it. So there is really no incentive for him scurry back home to Momma any too quickly.

But, as I have tried to do, I left the situation alone. I tried not to offer the Princess any advice unless she asked for it. I bit my tongue until it turned red, then purple, then black......and fell off. Almost.

I was still recovering from the aggravation of that visit when the Princess, last Thursday, ever-so-casually mentioned that he would be coming back again this upcoming weekend. I guess, according to my Mother, and later, the Princess, I blew a gasket at that announcement. I told the Princess that her apartment was not some kind of "love shack", and that she had better be very careful about complaining over money worries when she was spending her cash on his visits.

My outburst was not met with peals of applause from my Mother or the Princess. My Mother was angry at me and the Princess was hurt. She didn't speak to me for almost 2 days until I took myself over to her apartment, told her that I could no longer condone a relationship I felt was so detrimental to her, and outlined the many, many reasons why. She listened, she cried............but mainly, she agreed. She confessed that she was afraid to be without a boyfriend ( which made me near crazed.....but I managed to control myself and try to sound sympathetic ) . I tried to remember how hard it was to be 23 years old and faced with so much transition.

In the end, she and I were fine, but apparently, that night she called Lumpkin and gave him some serious ultimatums........such as either deciding what to do about pursuing his education or finding a job. She also apparently told him that the invitation for his weekend away at La Casa De Princessa was off.

He said " fine", hung up and has not called her since. That was Saturday. She has been heartbroken ever since. She has given him some ultimatums before (albeit weak ones) and he has always come groveling back with promises and plans..........and then he does absolutely nothing about them.

I am silently cheering, while also hating myself for causing her pain, while also loving myself because I know that this relationship was dragging her down, while also kicking myself for making her feel badly...........

It just goes round and round.

She was just starting to emerge from her shock of the not-calling-boyfriend when she and I returned to her apartment Sunday evening to find her much beloved Goldfish, Theodore dead in his bowl. She had changed his water before she left and it must have killed him.

Then Monday she got a call that the job she reallyyyyyyy wanted had been given to someone else with more experience.

That was all it took. She fell apart. She cried and cried and couldn't pull herself together. She is still in a pretty deep funk.

I feel so guilty that I started this ball rolling by lambasting her over her asshole boyfriend.


All in all, it's loads of fun in my family right now.




Wanna come over for a visit? The Princess will feed you.

I say you'll miss me, and you always do

Miss Me Blind -- Culture Club -- 1983



Let the joyous weeping commence. I have returned.


I was not away anywhere exotic. I was not relishing in half-naked men and Mimosa's on the beach. I did not do ANYTHING exciting. I simply had some vacation days that needed to be used before I lost them, so I used them to clean up my veritable sty of a house and yard, and to put the finishing touches on the Princess' move.


And to groom dogs.


So, for all of you who may want to leave pithy comments about my relaxing time away................





STFU!!!




Love you too.