Finally. Call me gross if you have to, but that bone sticking out of my gums I was complaining about? Yeah. Pulled that shit out. SO MUCH BETTER. It felt like it was the size of a nail, but it was really tiny. Whatever. I feel like dancing.
I was going to the post office yesterday morning and gave mom a call and told her if she needed to go, we could walk together. I expected to walk to her house first, get her and walk to the post office; however, I no sooner crossed behind Cory's Repair when I heard a familiar bellow, "JEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAASSSSSSSS!" coming from the park. Sure enough, there she was in the pagoda waving and screaming away. I waved and abruptly turned in her direction. The town upkeeper guy was doing upkeep in the park and was chuckling when I crossed the street. Mom waved again, obviously still scream-hungover because she was still communicating louder than necessary, "Your Late!"
Me: "Yeah, I needed to get these titters under control. It's hard work in the heat."
Mom agreed and we resumed our trek to the post office. Upon our arrival, we met up with various townies, people I like to call "The Early Morning Shufflers." These are people who either live in town or close to town, well past retirement age who trek up and down Diamond Street doing whatever it is they do before noon. Most of the time, they are all congregating at the Dairyland Cafe for coffee and breakfast, though Ellie's bar is always open bright and early for the handful of visitors who like a little kick to their coffee, or the Shufflers who like the fellowship of the Ellie's crowd, the stronger coffee, and the freedom to sit and visit without taking up space in the cafe. From there the shufflers usually take a stroll to the post office to pick up and drop off mail, usually ending up in a circle for morning hellos and general chatting and time wasting. Among the visitors is the owner of the village general store and her cashier who just comes out to smoke.
We gently push through the millage with waves and hello's, pausing every step or so to talk about the weather, various aches and pains, "How was your trip to Colorado Pam?" "What are you mailing off today Jessie?" And the ever popular, "Uh oh, here comes trouble."
When we finally get to the desk, there is my favorite postmaster, Jackie, who saw me coming, and got me mail confirmation papers out and the roll of super awesome tape I always end up reinforcing my boxes with, and the big, red, FRAGILE stamper. Whew. Then there is the task of weighing, telling a story, laughing, pushing buttons, giggling, filling out papers and pausing to tell more stories and giggle some more before we are finally done and our mail is sent/picked up.
Mom: "I'll treat you to coffee this morning?"
Me: "Sweet, I never say no to coffee."
So into the Dairyland we go and find a seat. The owner, who I can never remember her name...damn...but who's husband is affectionately called "Rambo" is sitting at her table getting ready for the rush. The waitress, Sandy, grabs her order pad and sits down at our table, crosses her legs and settles in for a visit.
Sandy: "Ugh its such a scorcher out there right?"
Mom, always so good at keeping up these conversations, enthusiastically agrees while I am without the first cup of coffee this morning and am starting to zone out to the tune of heat waves and English muffins. Despite this, I obediently nod as well in time with the conversation. Sandy gets up and grabs us 2 mugs of coffee. brings them back over and settles back down to resume the conversation.
As I pour creamer into my coffee my ears pick up to my mom, "I just squish my shirt up under my boobs like this." (demonstration)
Sandy: "Oh yeah, me too.. And then when it gets really hot like this, I get this sore almost rash right where my bra rides in my fat roll right here? (lifts the side of one breast and points).
Mom: "Oh my GOD, I know. Tenactin. Tenactin is awesome for those spots. I used it on Ronnie all the time."
Enter now, some guy who went to school with my sisters who looks familiar, but obviously knows mom well enough to sit down at our table with us.
Guy: "Hey you."
Mom: "Hi guy, are you Mona's kid?"
I sip at my coffee as Sandy gets up to pour New Guy some coffee. I turn to the town paper while mom visits. Obviously the boob sweat conversation started back up again since New Guy offered up Gold Bond powder advice. Across the cafe (its a pretty small cafe), an older lady with big purple hair chimes in about the heat and how it gives her headaches, Gold Bond or not.
It isn't long before the entire cafe is in on the conversation, all with horror stories about heat rash and crotch rot.
Before we know it, its getting late and I need to get home to start work. On the way out, non stops at the purple haired lady's table to say goodbye. Evidently they go to quilt guild together. Again, more heat talk and I patiently stand to the side waiting for mom to finish being a Shuffler. Behind me an older gentleman pokes me in the elbow. "Hot enough for ya?" Not even lying right now.
Mom's voice gets a little more loud, signifying she is making it clear that she needs to go. I hear "Well, you need to go stick your head in a bucket of ice!" And the two of them start cackling as mom and I walk out. As we cross out into the street, the guy who was talking to me called over to the purple haired lady and asked her what was so funny. Purple haired lady gladly was regaling the story as we shut the door. Two steps from the door, we hear the whole cafe roar with laughter.
Needless to say, this is a typical morning in Ridgeland. I have to say I enjoy it very much. I love this town. for only 700 people, you have every kind of person you can have. Everyone knows everyone else and no matter what your flaw, we are all friends. We can all get together and talk about tits and pits and grimy ass over a cup of coffee and a stack of toast and it's totally okay. We can go to church with bare feet and spend the better part of the service dancing, playing and visiting. After, we push all the pews to the side of the sanctuary and have 3 hours of Ninja Warrior class. We have homeschoolers, unschoolers, hippies, and holistic healers. We have drunks and fighters, talkers, and stalkers. That one guy who cant get through a sentence without saying fuck thrice, even if the sentence is fuck. The convicted murderer who heard we had no air conditioning and brought us a window unit this morning out of the blue, to use through the heat wave. The early morning alcoholic who stops in to visit while he drinks his morning Irish coffee to stop his shakes. John and Ivory (the neighbor and his dog) who walk by 4 times a day and stop in to visit every time. Everyone looks out for everyone else, no matter who is around, you are never alone and never in danger. If someone steps out of line, there is always someone else nearby to help you out.
I never thought I would like being a townie, but its pretty awesome here. I get such a kick out of this town. I love my woods and cabin time too, but Ridgeland is so much different than Boyceville, the town I had originally judged all other towns and the town I grew up in. The people here are go-with-the-flow, let it all hang out, say what you want and people will either laugh or think you are completely nuts and laugh anyway. Rarely will anything be taken personally and if it is, its usually forgiven shortly after. Boyceville, well Boyceville is just a bunch of snobs. Tell a tit story in that town and just see what happens.
Showing posts with label ridgeland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ridgeland. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Here it goes
I haven't been posting because I have just been under immense amounts of stress lately, so much stress that I may have been on the verge if a nervous breakdown. I suppose that sounds so dramatic. What the hell is a nervous breakdown? You cry if all the bread is gone? You cry if you drop a spoon? You cry because morning is here and another horrible day has to start? You think about dying, running away, throwing up? Food doesn't taste, no ambition, you don't care? If thats the case, then I was there all month long. I have been having such trouble with Dean. He is 17 and selfish, mouthy, he does stupid things, he won't come home, he won't call, he's smoking, drinking, hanging out with potheads, never home. I worry, I wonder what I have done wrong, why does he post on face book that he has lost all his faith? Why is he rude and selfish? Why won't he come home when I ask? Why won't he call and tell me he's okay? he will be gone for days and days. Does he eat? is he drinking and driving? is his driver drinking and driving? Is he involved with drugs? Is he sick, is he hurt? Is he warm? Is he going to school? Is he getting something to eat? I've talked to police, social services, the sheriff, the school, the counselors, human services they all say the same thing, at 17, he is considered an adult in the eyes of the law. He makes his own choices, we cannot change him now. They told me it's my job to change. And I cry and cry and worry and pray and cry.
We were working with a mortgage modification company for a year, our second. From the very beginning our loan was screwy. They told my dad when we bought the house the loan would be in our name, not his. When it was all done, it was in dad's name. They said in 1 year Curt and I could pay the payments and get refinanced since were were on an interest-only adjustable ARM. A year went by and they said that it made no difference if we made the payments or not, the only credit we were building was mom and dads. After 3 years the interest was paid and the payment blew up to 1500.00 a month. Curt lost his job, the stove pipe broke, the blower on the furnace died, the pipes burst, the pressure tank died, the well pump died, the gray water line collapsed, I lost my job, got a new one that could not pay me, Curt did his best working from home my van died, got a different one and it lasted a week before it threw a rod, put in a different motor and after 2 weeks it threw a rod as well, the hot water heater split, the ceiling in the bathroom fell down and the mortgage company would not budge on a modification. We hired 2 different companies to handle dealing with the bank and getting modifications, both of them scams. The last 2 months I have told all this to the bank begging them to modify the loan and get us payments we can make so we can survive and try to get this house presentable. I faxed information, signed papers, faxed more, called every day asking if they were going to do the modification, but they said we are thinking about it. The house was put on a sheriff sale and I called every day, and every day they said they would think about it, it was in review. Last Wednesday was the sale date. I called Tuesday 3 times asking them if they would postpone, decide, whatever. They were still deciding, call in the morning. They can stop the sale anytime. I woke up at 8 and started calling, still deciding, called at 9, still deciding, called at 10, still deciding, called at 11:15, fifteen minutes before the start of the sale and they said they would not help us. I threw up.
My home. I grew up here. There is a place on top of the hill where the sun trickles down through the trees. I called it my sunshine house. My dogs are buried here, my donkey. My dad and I planted all these trees when they were tiny whips. We used to slide down the driveway on winter nights on our bellies under the yard lights until midnight. I used to dance in the basement, I used to play in the cave, I used to explore and hunt and hike. I used to make a big nest out of fallen leaves on a warm fall day and take a nap in the woods. I used to climb to the top of the pine trees. I used to sleep on the deck on hot summer nights. We had camp outs in the yard, I had friends over. My room was pink. Just like that it was gone and I cried and cried. Then I was scared.
It was fall, getting cold and we had no place to go...and what was I going to tell my father? His credit is destroyed and I lost the family farm, the place he worked so hard for, that he wanted me to have and its gone. Just like that. I told my sister first, who immediately started to cry. She told me to tell dad right away, so i did. He took it well. He wasn't mad or even angry. He said he could have never made those payments and he was surprised that we made it for 6 years with all the shit that we went through. He said it was okay and he said he was sorry he pushed us into it back then, he was sorry that he got tangled up with the shady mortgage company in the first place, and sorry that he push us so hard to get modified.
That afternoon I turned on my computer and looked at the Dunn Co News. I scanned through the rentals and found a house in Ridgeland. Affordable, 3 bedroom, available, close to mom and dad and let me have my pets. The next day I filled in the application and faxed it in. The lady in the office was not happy that Curt was not working and she was adamant that he would not be running a shop from the garage there. My heart sank. the other 5 rentals available were too small or too expensive. I needed the peace of mind of a place to go. The next day there was a place that was hiring welders in the paper and Curt applied. The owner of the house we wanted called me that afternoon and told me the house was ours. She knew Dean and heard our story and told me the house was mine with the option to buy later on when we felt ready.
Today is Sunday, 4 days after I lost my home and I am okay. This month our 1500$ will be our last. It covers our first and last month's rent in our new home. Next month our smaller, far more affordable rent will be easily managed and out by the first. I will be able to afford to fix the gasket leak in my van and buy tires for the front. I'll have money in the bank and all my bills paid for the first time in 3 years I won't have to wonder what will happen if I rob money from this bill to pay that bill.
And then I look around me at the peeling wall paper, lady beetles piled up in every corner and milling around the light bulbs. I vacuum them, but 10 minutes later there is a million more. The dirty and worn carpets, the ripped up linoleum, the hole in the wall, the damp basement, the mold, the mice, the duct tape holding up the insulation in the bathroom ceiling because we could not afford to fix it. All gone. No more slow drains, no more mouse shit on my stove every morning, no more vacuuming out the drawers every week for the mice, no more having to wash dishes that were put away before using them because of mice. No more bugs. No more mold. No more leaks and no more cold. No more burning wood, incessant relentless layers of dust, smoke, dirt. No more 1500$ house payments.
I'm okay. I feel okay. I'm sad and embarrassed that I lost my house. Ashamed that I made stupid choices and allowed myself to get swindled. There are so many things we all should have done differently. On the other hand, I feel a little lighter. Maybe I can keep my house cleaner, it can be safer for my kids. They can have their own rooms with doors. They can be warm in the winter. I can cook a meal without having to wash the mice away and the smell of ladybugs wont permeate the air. Maybe I can invite people over without feeling embarrassed because everything is so dirty and ugly and I won't have ladybugs dive bombing my guests. I can sit down and crochet or craft on my day off and not do it because it can possibly make me some money or save me some money, but do it because its fun. No guilt because I'm not working overtime or cleaning. Maybe it is for the best. Maybe I needed to decompress.
Dean is home. He said he would help us move. I gave him the choice of staying in Boyceville or going to Barron and he chose going to Barron. Maybe the change will be good for him too. New people. New place. Less tension.
Yaya's school is right across the road from our house. We will walk every morning. I will have to take the dog out for walks too, which will help me get on track for weight loss and exercise, Lucas too. If dad gets sick, I'm right there, 2 blocks away. I can help mom do her housework once a week, shovel the walk for them and help mom more. The little grocery store is around the corner for emergencies, the bank is right there, the vet, the park. There is a little hardware store, gas station, tiny 1-chair hair salon, 3 bars and a post office. I can get my hair done, get drunk, mail a letter and buy milk all on the same block. I wish the coffee shop was still open...that would be nice...
We were working with a mortgage modification company for a year, our second. From the very beginning our loan was screwy. They told my dad when we bought the house the loan would be in our name, not his. When it was all done, it was in dad's name. They said in 1 year Curt and I could pay the payments and get refinanced since were were on an interest-only adjustable ARM. A year went by and they said that it made no difference if we made the payments or not, the only credit we were building was mom and dads. After 3 years the interest was paid and the payment blew up to 1500.00 a month. Curt lost his job, the stove pipe broke, the blower on the furnace died, the pipes burst, the pressure tank died, the well pump died, the gray water line collapsed, I lost my job, got a new one that could not pay me, Curt did his best working from home my van died, got a different one and it lasted a week before it threw a rod, put in a different motor and after 2 weeks it threw a rod as well, the hot water heater split, the ceiling in the bathroom fell down and the mortgage company would not budge on a modification. We hired 2 different companies to handle dealing with the bank and getting modifications, both of them scams. The last 2 months I have told all this to the bank begging them to modify the loan and get us payments we can make so we can survive and try to get this house presentable. I faxed information, signed papers, faxed more, called every day asking if they were going to do the modification, but they said we are thinking about it. The house was put on a sheriff sale and I called every day, and every day they said they would think about it, it was in review. Last Wednesday was the sale date. I called Tuesday 3 times asking them if they would postpone, decide, whatever. They were still deciding, call in the morning. They can stop the sale anytime. I woke up at 8 and started calling, still deciding, called at 9, still deciding, called at 10, still deciding, called at 11:15, fifteen minutes before the start of the sale and they said they would not help us. I threw up.
My home. I grew up here. There is a place on top of the hill where the sun trickles down through the trees. I called it my sunshine house. My dogs are buried here, my donkey. My dad and I planted all these trees when they were tiny whips. We used to slide down the driveway on winter nights on our bellies under the yard lights until midnight. I used to dance in the basement, I used to play in the cave, I used to explore and hunt and hike. I used to make a big nest out of fallen leaves on a warm fall day and take a nap in the woods. I used to climb to the top of the pine trees. I used to sleep on the deck on hot summer nights. We had camp outs in the yard, I had friends over. My room was pink. Just like that it was gone and I cried and cried. Then I was scared.
It was fall, getting cold and we had no place to go...and what was I going to tell my father? His credit is destroyed and I lost the family farm, the place he worked so hard for, that he wanted me to have and its gone. Just like that. I told my sister first, who immediately started to cry. She told me to tell dad right away, so i did. He took it well. He wasn't mad or even angry. He said he could have never made those payments and he was surprised that we made it for 6 years with all the shit that we went through. He said it was okay and he said he was sorry he pushed us into it back then, he was sorry that he got tangled up with the shady mortgage company in the first place, and sorry that he push us so hard to get modified.
That afternoon I turned on my computer and looked at the Dunn Co News. I scanned through the rentals and found a house in Ridgeland. Affordable, 3 bedroom, available, close to mom and dad and let me have my pets. The next day I filled in the application and faxed it in. The lady in the office was not happy that Curt was not working and she was adamant that he would not be running a shop from the garage there. My heart sank. the other 5 rentals available were too small or too expensive. I needed the peace of mind of a place to go. The next day there was a place that was hiring welders in the paper and Curt applied. The owner of the house we wanted called me that afternoon and told me the house was ours. She knew Dean and heard our story and told me the house was mine with the option to buy later on when we felt ready.
Today is Sunday, 4 days after I lost my home and I am okay. This month our 1500$ will be our last. It covers our first and last month's rent in our new home. Next month our smaller, far more affordable rent will be easily managed and out by the first. I will be able to afford to fix the gasket leak in my van and buy tires for the front. I'll have money in the bank and all my bills paid for the first time in 3 years I won't have to wonder what will happen if I rob money from this bill to pay that bill.
And then I look around me at the peeling wall paper, lady beetles piled up in every corner and milling around the light bulbs. I vacuum them, but 10 minutes later there is a million more. The dirty and worn carpets, the ripped up linoleum, the hole in the wall, the damp basement, the mold, the mice, the duct tape holding up the insulation in the bathroom ceiling because we could not afford to fix it. All gone. No more slow drains, no more mouse shit on my stove every morning, no more vacuuming out the drawers every week for the mice, no more having to wash dishes that were put away before using them because of mice. No more bugs. No more mold. No more leaks and no more cold. No more burning wood, incessant relentless layers of dust, smoke, dirt. No more 1500$ house payments.
I'm okay. I feel okay. I'm sad and embarrassed that I lost my house. Ashamed that I made stupid choices and allowed myself to get swindled. There are so many things we all should have done differently. On the other hand, I feel a little lighter. Maybe I can keep my house cleaner, it can be safer for my kids. They can have their own rooms with doors. They can be warm in the winter. I can cook a meal without having to wash the mice away and the smell of ladybugs wont permeate the air. Maybe I can invite people over without feeling embarrassed because everything is so dirty and ugly and I won't have ladybugs dive bombing my guests. I can sit down and crochet or craft on my day off and not do it because it can possibly make me some money or save me some money, but do it because its fun. No guilt because I'm not working overtime or cleaning. Maybe it is for the best. Maybe I needed to decompress.
Dean is home. He said he would help us move. I gave him the choice of staying in Boyceville or going to Barron and he chose going to Barron. Maybe the change will be good for him too. New people. New place. Less tension.
Yaya's school is right across the road from our house. We will walk every morning. I will have to take the dog out for walks too, which will help me get on track for weight loss and exercise, Lucas too. If dad gets sick, I'm right there, 2 blocks away. I can help mom do her housework once a week, shovel the walk for them and help mom more. The little grocery store is around the corner for emergencies, the bank is right there, the vet, the park. There is a little hardware store, gas station, tiny 1-chair hair salon, 3 bars and a post office. I can get my hair done, get drunk, mail a letter and buy milk all on the same block. I wish the coffee shop was still open...that would be nice...
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