A Brush With The Law

I was inside my house and walked out the front door to pay some day laborers who had done some chores for me. A Sheriff's car was idling in front of my house. I didn't give it a second thought and directed my attention to giving a check to the workers. With my peripheral vision, I detected sudden movement. Looking back at the Sheriff's deputy, I saw him jump out of his car and stand hunched over behind the car door. He was clearly alarmed over something. Over what, I couldn't imagine.

Then, he yelled out, "Do you live here?"

I yelled back, "Yes."

He yelled back, "Did you hire those guys to do some work for you?"

I responded, "Yes, I had them move some firewood for me. "

At this point, I thought I understood what the problem was. The workers, in his eyes, clearly could not live in my neighborhood. This is an affluent area and two El Salvadorians in plaid shirts and an old pick up truck stood out. They could be doing some work for a homeowner or they could be burglars. He wanted to make sure which.

What the officer said next floored me. He yelled, "Bring me some proof that you live here."

Obviously, the officer didn't believe that I looked like I could live in my neighborhood either. Granted, I didn't look my best. I had been working on the pond in the drizzle and my old, ragged, mismatched sweats were covered in mud. I had last combed my hair the day before. But still, under all the dirt and rags, I was still blond and middle aged. I thought that I fit the demographics even though I was dirty.

I thought about the events that led to the beer summit, that is, the black college professor who was doubted my a police officer to be the owner of his home and ended up arrested when the situation escalated. Although my feelings were hurt, I was going to remain polite, calm and reasonably friendly.

I yelled out that I was going to go in the house and come right back. Although it was annoying to have to produce papers when I had done nothing wrong, it was easy enough to show a driver's license. Then I suddenly remembered. My driver's license had my old address on it. Walking in my house, I was wondering how I was going to prove that I lived here. I did a quick search of the tabletops and found some escrow instructions with my name and current address.

I walked over to the deputy, who was no longer crouched behind his car. Back up had arrived while I was inside the house and I guess he was feeling more comfortable. I handed him my papers while the second set of officers watched me. He took the papers and sat in his car and copied the information. When he was done, he handed them back to me and explained that a neighbor had called the police because they saw suspicious men walking around my house.

Forcing a smile, I thanked him, thanked the day laborers and walked back in the house. Everyone drove off. Thank goodness the officer didn't question the workers about their immigration status. I will never be able to run for public office.

Koi Moving Day

I finally got my house rented, but the family I chose has a two year old kid. Not wanting to risk drowning a kid, that created an urgency to finish the pond at my new house, so I could move the koi and drain the old pond.

The last pond, I dug myself. It took two months. Not having two months or the desire to do anything like that ever again, I hired someone to dig it for me. It took two guys one day. It is about 10 by 12 feet and 4 feet deep. There is a shelf all the way around so that if dogs fall in, they can climb out.

I bought 3,300 pounds of ledger stones and went to work. I moved each rock several times until I was satisfied with the placement and then cemented it in. It was a long miserable weekend and then I ran out of rock. I filled up the pond anyway. Enough of the sides are done that the fish have room to swim around. I just need to finish edging the top row or two.

I treated the water and then waited a few days for the water to warm up. Then, the much dreaded fish moving day arrived. I got large plastic containers and lined them with kitchen trash bags. I put them in the car and drove to my old house. With a bucket, I filled the bags with pond water. Next, I climbed into the pond and started fishing.

Koi are hard to catch. They are surprisingly intelligent, fast and slippery. The pond was completely green with zero visibility. The only tool I had was a lace tablecloth. Fortunately, it was a hot day because I spent 2 hours in the pond trying to catch the fish by feel. I caught Sunny first, then Sosamma. It was Judy who challenged me the most. Worried about the the two fish waiting in the hot car, I finally had to leave and take them home. For the most part, they were good in the car, there was a just an occasional splash from Sunny. I didn't have time to acclimate them to the new pond. I just slid them in and they were fine.

It is an hour round trip between the two houses and I knew fishing was going to take some time, so I had to get going before rush hour started. This time, I brought a pump with me and started draining the old pond. With fewer hiding places as the water level dropped, I caught Judy.

Judy is a fighter. She thrashed for most of the ride home. Two minutes from home, she became quiet. When we got home, I was horrified to see that her bag was filled with bloody water. She was completely still. I poked her with my finger and she was unresponsive. Heartbroken that I had killed her, I decided to put her into the pond anyway. She lay on her side for a few seconds and then suddenly woke up. She swam away and joined her friends.

It has been several days and the fish are all fine. Now, I just need to buy more rock and finish what I started.

Another Month

Since buying the new house, Lindsay and I have been making three mortgage payments and are in a deficit situation. We have no intention of selling our individual houses, we just need to get them rented. We were using a website, that came highly recommended, to advertise our houses, but attracted no real interest. I placed an ad in the local newspaper, which cost some bucks, and once again, had no takers. Then, I tried Craigslist. Wow. It has been hard for me to keep straight all of the potential renters and showing my house.

I had heard from other people who had rented their homes out, that renters are flakes. The people who want to rent my house don't strike me as being flakes, but they are all down on their luck. It is just so sad to hear their stories. A couple of people have even handed me essays explaining their bad credit. They all have jobs that have been effected by this great recession and have lost their homes through foreclosures or short-sales. Their credit is terrible and they are drowning in debt.

I feel guilty. All of my nurse coworkers and I are doing well. We have nice homes, cars, take expensive vacations and most of us own two or three homes. We work our butts off, but it pays well and we seem to be recession proof, so far. I know that, but for the grace of God, I could just as easily have ended up in a career that would have lead to financial disaster. The only difference between me and the potential renters of my house is luck.

I have to decide between one of three families and I really like them all. Plus, they all really need my house and are desperate. It makes me so uncomfortable to have to choose.

Lindsay hasn't attracted any serious attention for his house. It is in a much higher price range and fewer people can afford it. But if my house is rented, financially we are fine. We just won't be saving any money.

We have been living together for a little over a month now and still only see each other two days a week. He works days and I work evenings. Our paths do not cross except when I have a day off. We also have separate master bedrooms because he snores and sleeps with the TV on. But it is okay. The separation keeps the relationship fresh. We have been dating for about ten years, but in relationship time, it is more like six months. We are both independent and used to living alone, so this is working.

Our dogs have almost gotten used to each other. Of course they have all known each other forever, but my dogs have always been terrified of the huge Newfoundlands. For the first couple of weeks, little Tom Tom lived in the closet. It was sad, so I put a dog bed, food and water in the closet to make him more comfortable. Eventually, he discovered that the Newfies were gentle giants and meant him no harm. It is a relief that Tom Tom finally came out of the closet. MacKenzie still growls when the Newfies come in my bedroom, but the growls are becoming less ferocious and outside of the bedroom, she is fine.

The dogs forgot their house-training when they moved here, but we are making serious progress with that. On the other hand, there are urine stains in the living room, family room and two of the bedrooms. The carpet appears to be ruined. I never liked it anyway because the grey color looked industrial to me, but I also can't afford to replace it. Oh well.

So, that is what is new. I hope that is everything is fine with you all.

Pillow Therapy

Someone told me that a patient wanted to leave. I asked if the patient was alert and oriented and she said yes. My response was that we had to let him go. To hold a patient against their will can lead to nasty things like lawsuits and hearing annoying phrases like false imprisonment. I wasn't in the mood, but I agreed to talk to the patient.

I didn't have to go far. The patient walked by, naked and barefoot except for his backless gown. He was a healthy man in his prime trying to walk with a walker due to orthopedic injuries. Smiling and trying to be friendlier than I was feeling, I asked him where he was going. He looked at me with terrified, wild eyes. His hands were trembling and he was drenched in sweat. He forced a smile and said that he needed to go outside to make a phone call.

I asked him if he had a cell phone and he said no. I suggested that he go into his room and use the phone there, but he insisted that he had to go outside to make the call. I offered to let him use a phone in the nursing station. I offered to make the call for him if he wanted. It was useless. He couldn't explain how he would make a phone call outside, but he would not consider using one of our phones. He kept hobbling toward the elevators.

I had a difficult decision to make. If he was in his right mind and I prevented him from leaving, I/we could be sued. If he was not in his right mind and I let him go, I/we could be sued if he was harmed. I called three people above me for assistance and they declined to help. It was my call. I decided to error on the side of stopping him. I asked for security to be called and I caught up with the patient next to the elevator. I grabbed his walker and held it down between us. He couldn't walk without it and it kept a safe distance between us.

Soon, five security guards showed up. They tried to reason with him and even tried handing him a cell phone so that he could make his call. The patient was adamant that he was going to leave and make his call outside. Security asked me what to do and I said to bring him back to his room. We all knew what that meant. It was going to be really ugly.

I walked away to get restraints while the wrestling match ensued. Eventually, the patient was thrown down on the bed with five men on top of him. Another nurse and I tied down his torso, arms and legs. He immediately broke the restraints. The security guards laid on top of him until someone could get the leather restraints.

At some point in the struggle, one of the security guys smashed a pillow on the patient's face and held it there. The patient couldn't breathe. I don't like to tell people how to do their job and wondered if that was some kind of technique for controlling combative patients. Still, it didn't seem right. Several seconds went by and I was just stunned, not saying anything. Then, the pillow was slid up a bit so that his lower jaw was exposed. He couldn't see and his nose was still smashed, but at least he could breathe.

It took some effort to get a doctor to come, but after some begging someone agreed to help us. Long story short, we gave the patient a special cocktail which knocked him out until the next day. When he woke up, he was fine. He apologized for his behavior and we let his family take him home.

I have no idea what that craziness was all about and if it was appropriate to give pillow therapy. What do you think?

The Psychiatrist's House

The house had been on the market for several months, but was out of my price range. After a year of disappointments, my expectations were low, but I monitored the house on the realtor's website just in case it ever came down to my price range.



One day, the price came down to just $25,000 over my budget. That was close enough to schedule an appointment to see the house. We had to wait for a day that both of us had off, which only happens four days a month. We also had to see the house when the doctor wasn't seeing patients. The psychiatrist owner worked out of his home.



The appointment was for late in the day after a long day of house hunting. I was tempted to skip this last house because of fatigue and the long drive to get there, but was reluctant to say anything. We ended up driving there and planned to wait until the agreed upon time.

As we drove around the corner and saw the house for the first time, the feeling I has was more than love at first sight. It was recognition. I knew that was my house.




We saw the house on the first day of Spring. The hillsides were green. Trees were blooming and birds were singing. The weather was perfect. It was simply paradise. The photo above was taken in August, three months after the owners stopped watering. The lawn is brown, but at least it matches the hillsides.

My biggest requirement, and most difficult and expensive to find, was land. I don't want to look out my windows and see into someone else's house or vice versa. I don't want to look out the window and look at a wall. I don't want to know if the neighbor is taking a shower. I need space.

The new house is on nearly two acres of land. That sounded great in theory and perhaps if I didn't have a full time job it would be great in reality, but right now I feel overwhelmed. We live in a high fire danger area and there is four years worth of brush that needs to be removed. I would do it myself, but I don't have time, plus I'm afraid of rattlesnakes.

Only about half an acre of land is fenced. The rest is wild. A creek flows through the unfenced land and native oak trees line the banks. It is very nice to sit on the patio and look down on my oak trees and listen to the creek. The coyotes also like my land. A pack of them live on it. That wasn't mentioned in the sellers disclosure statement. They seem to be afraid of my dogs, so hopefully they will stay out of my fenced yard. But, that also means I can only have big dogs. No more Cockers. *sigh*

The picture above shows my backyard. I own it up to the fence on top of the hill, lined with Italian Cypress trees. A top priority was getting a play pool. Newfoundlands must have water to play in.

I'm sorry that the picture above is sideways. If I knew how to turn it around, I would have done so. But this is the only picture I have of the creek. I could have hiked back down there and taken some upright shots, but I didn't feel like it. I'm still trying to get the stickers and burrs out of my shoes and socks from the last time.

Nailed to one of the oak trees is a no trespassing sign. When I first saw it, I was hesitant to go any further until I realized that the sign now belongs to me. I never thought that I would own property with a no trespassing sign. I will probably remove it, though. I don't mind if people want to visit the creek and coyotes and rattlesnakes can't read.

A New Direction

Has it really been three months since I last visited my Blog? I, at least, have a good excuse for my absence.

It occurred to me about a year and a half ago, that with the economy being so bad and so many people losing their jobs and homes, that it would be a great time to buy a new house. I'm taking a big risk with my life savings, but I was finally able to buy my dream house. It was at one time a million dollar house, but not anymore, otherwise it would not be mine.

It was a short sale, which is a type of Hell. The first buyers walked away from the transaction during the third month of the bank's shenanigans. I then moved to the front of the line. My biggest problem was with my mortgage broker. The broker was both an idiot and unlucky. His appraiser under-appraised the home; so, I had to start over again with a different broker when we had only three weeks left to close. My life has been a roller coaster ride for the last four months and it has been mostly downhill.

For the year prior to this, my second job has been house hunting. I looked at homes on the Internet and visited the ones that looked promising. It seemed quite hopeless. All I wanted was a decently sized modern home on a big lot, with a view in a safe, quiet area. And, it had to be in my price range. Was that too much to ask? It appeared to be. It took an entire year and three Realtors before I found my house.

I'm all moved in, but there is still a ton of stuff to unpack. But mostly, I'm so glad to finally have phone service and my computer on line again after over a week of grief from AT & T. That is a story all by itself. I live in a dead zone and every time I needed to call AT &T, I had to get in my car, drive to the other side of the hill and wait on hold for between twenty and thirty minutes to talk to someone. They would promise to send someone to my house to connect me and then not show up. That was my routine for several days. I was both angry and scared. I sort of live in the country now and being out of contact and not able to call 911 was scary. I'm feeling much better now.

In a future post, I will show pictures of my new house. I'm a little overwhelmed by the size of the lot, but I got what I asked for. Yikes.

The Golden State

It is really nice when California does this.