Mike and Music

One of my guilty pleasures is watching wedding-themed reality tv shows (”Bridezilla,” “Rich Bride, Poor Bride,” etc.). The shows are interesting and give me ideas for my wedding, but they’re also fun and help remind me of what I absolutely do not want to be as my wedding gets closer. This morning I was in bed watching “Whose Wedding Is It Anyway,” a show about wedding planners, when I realized that I didn’t know where the shoes I bought for the wedding were.

I distinctly remembered carrying the dress out of the store and it taking both hands, but I didn’t remember the box of shoes. I looked in the closet, and there was the dress, but no zapatos. The more I thought about it, the more keyed up I got, and finally I called the bridal store to see if the shoes were there. After talking to a very nice woman who remembered me from when I went in earlier in the week (one of the pluses of having an unusual name), who checked with my sales consultant, I learned that yes, the shoes were there. Miguel, my guy, forgot to give them to me, and I forgot to ask. They put a note on the box and Mike and I swung by today to pick them up. Disaster narrowly averted.

If I hadn’t been watching the show, I probably wouldn’t have remembered that I didn’t have my shoes, and more time would have gone by, and the store workers wouldn’t have remembered me (or my shoes), and I quite possibly would have been required to buy another pair. Thanks, “Whose Wedding Is It Anyway,” for saving me a bunch of cash!

Back in January, Mike and I got a bill for our property tax.  The bill was special in that we received it after the due date, due to the timing of our home purchase.  Almost immediately after getting the bill, I mailed off a check, putting it in the mail on January 28.

A few weeks later, the check still hadn’t cleared and we got a letter from our mortgage lender saying that property taxes were owing and that not paying the property tax bill violates the terms of our mortgage.  I called the local tax office and was told by some nutty lady that the county was one million payments behind, and that I should check back in mid-March.  You can probably imagine how well that went over…  Nonetheless, I called our lender and told them, and the very helpful person I spoke with put a note in the system (after laughing at how poorly run our county is– how do you get one million payments behind?!?).

Thinking that perhaps someone else would be able to provide some more info, I called the county again at the beginning of March.  This time I got someone who said that yes, they were behind in processing payments and that I should keep waiting and no, there’s no way they could look to see if they received the check I sent them.  They would process if if they got it, and if not, they wouldn’t (excellent logic).  I asked to speak to a supervisor and was told that they weren’t behind by a million payments, but pretty far behind, and to just keep waiting.

Once a week, I checked the online banking statement to see if the check cleared, only to be disappointed (and increasingly frustrated).  Last week– the third week of March– I called AGAIN and got another woman.  After I yelled at her for a while, and after she was short with me back, she said I could just go to the county offices and write them a new check and that they could process that.  They’d even be nice enough to waive the late fee.  That set me off– I mailed the check with plenty of time, they’re behind in processing payments, so how on earth could it be my fault they didn’t get the check in time?!?!  I also voiced my frustration with having to take time off to call them constantly and to go down there, and explained that I think that amounts to an extra tax (because time is money!).

Since January, I’d gotten three other property tax bills (one paid with no problem, one not due yet, and one that was a total mystery) and I just wanted to get the whole thing worked out, so I decided to go to the office.  Neither the first nor the second person had any idea of what to do, so I finally got to talk to a supervisor.  I told him what the woman had told me, literally two hours before, and he said that was wrong, that I’d have to fill out a “lost check” fee form and turn in all sorts of documentation and wait an additional 6-8 weeks and that then they’d decide what sort of late fee to assess me.  I was steaming!!!  I finally got the guy to admit that there was a way someone could check to see if my check had arrived (they’re filed by date of receipt and by the parcel number) and he said he’d have someone do that and get back to me in 1-2 days.  That was last Wednesday.

When I hadn’t heard back from anyone on Monday, I called and got a very helpful worker (who actually suggested that I NEVER mail checks into them, and that I avoid using the credit card payment method which charges a fee equal to 2% of the bill you pay).  She said she’d talk to Brian, the guy I talked to when I went in, and call me back.  Well, it’s Thursday and I still haven’t gotten a call back!

The good thing, though, is that I checked the online bank statement today and lo and behold, the payment finally cleared.  And it only took two months for our revenue-starved County to get its act together enough to cash the check…

I’ve been putting off wedding dress shopping for some time (don’t ask me why, as I’m not entirely sure), but finally dragged myself to a bridal store last night.  I went alone, which was weird, but it actually worked out pretty well in the sense that I was able to figure out how I liked particular dresses, as opposed to feeling pressured by anyone else to get a certain one.

My “bridal consultant” was a man, but he was very helpful (in spite of not having ever needed a wedding dress himself).  He asked me all sorts of questions, like “what’s your vision for the wedding” and “what do you have in mind?”  I didn’t have a clear vision (outside of “I want a dress”), so I wasn’t much help, but I had gone through the catalog to pick out some dresses to try on.  The deck of the ship where the wedding will take place isn’t terribly large, so I knew I didn’t want anything with a big train (and I think bustles are ugly, so I wasn’t a big fan of having something that would be bustled), I knew that I wanted something white, and I was pretty sure I wanted something that could have little caplet sleeves put on.  From there, I was pretty open.

Ten dresses later, I’d settled on two choices.  One was very plain– very, very plain– and the other was much more embellished.  The latter was gorgeous, but the train was a little too long and the work a little too heavy, so I went with the former and am going to see about having some beading added.  The best part is, the dress was ridiculously cheap ($99!  That’s less than I’ve paid for shoes, for God’s sake!), so I have some room to play around with extras.  I actually took the dress home with me, and it’s now hanging in my closet.
I’m very happy to have another wedding-related item crossed off my list.  I think that may be the end of the big stuff, except for hiring a DJ, since we have a venue, caterer, photogs (still and video).  We’re not really doing a lot of flowers, and a friend’s going to help with the few we do have, and other friends have generously agreed to help with hair and makeup.  We have a place to get the cake all picked out, too.  Hooray for progress!

(Actually, now that I think about it, we have to do the invitations, get tuxes picked out for the guys, and take care of renting the linens, plus whatever other things I’m not thinking about.   So yes, it’s progress, but I’m not as done as I’d fooled myself into thinking.  Boo!)

Okay, “zoom zoom” is the Mazda slogan, but still…  It captures the feeling of speeding down the roadway with the wind in your hair in a sporty, fun vehicle.  The Mazda people would prefer that the vehicle be one of their models, of course, and this story doesn’t have anything to do with Mazda.

Enough rambling.  Mike and I got a new car!  We bought a Chrysler Pacifica, which is a crossover sport utility wagon.  The car is to replace Mike’s Mustang, because he needs something bigger to haul video equipment and house stuff.  We spent weeks looking at other SUVs and crossovers, including the Saturn Vue, Toyota Rav-4, Honda CRV, and a smattering of luxury vehicles.  In the end, we thought the Pacifica was a good size– it seats six, and the two back rows of seats fold down so there’s a ton of cargo space– and was nicely appointed inside– leather seats, wood grain interior, seat warmers, etc.

In an amazing, “I never would have predicted it!” turn of events, we got the car at the Giant Used Car Tent Sale.  Mike and I went to this last year and it was disgusting.  I felt slimy just setting food on the grounds of the stadium parking lot where the event is held.   All the used car salespeople flock to you and follow you around, pestering you in an attempt to be the one to sell you a car.  I have low tolerance for obnoxious people, and that place is ground zero for them.  The only reason we went this year is that Mike had a special “VIP” offer that entitled him to $25 worth of free gas (which is huge at a time when gas is almost $3.50/gallon).  It just so happened that we found a nice salesguy who respected our boundaries and who happened to have a great car in his section.  What kismet!

After buying the car Friday night, we decided to drive out to the back country on Saturday.  That morning, we loaded up the car with the dog, and headed east, visiting exotic spots like Jamul and Potrero.  It was fun to spend the day driving the windy back roads and going through the Cleveland National Forest in our new vehicle.  I can’t wait to take more road trips!

Rey’s favorite pasttime is trying to get his tug-o-war toy back from Music. Ain’t he cute?

I wrote in an earlier post about Rey, the cute dog who found his way to our doorstep, and about how he had to go back to his owners.  Well, I’m happy to report that the dog is back, and he’s now officially a member of our family!

I was terribly sad after Rey left us, and spent all week alternating between plotting to get him back and waiting hopefully for him to come back.  While I was at work today, I got a call from a neighbor saying that the dog had gotten loose and was wandering around in the alley behind our house.  Mary, the neighbor, said she’d grab him and put him away for about an hour, the length of time it would be until I could run home to get the dog.   She called back about 30 minutes later saying the dog had gotten out and she couldn’t find him (Mary is elderly, so I couldn’t be mad that she didn’t run after him.  She might have broken a hip!).  Nonetheless, I went home and she and I went down to Rey’s house to see if we could find him there and looked around for him, but didn’t have any luck.

Now, I was sad about that turn of events, but Mike seemed to think maybe it was for the best.  I called him and he reminded me that the dog wasn’t ours and that even if I found him, I’d have to take him back to his owners and then I’d just be upset again.  I couldn’t really wait around anymore and needed to go back to work, so I got in my car and was heading down the street when I saw the dog in the alley, almost like he was waiting for me!

I pulled over and called the dog to me.  He came immediately and flopped onto his back for belly rubs.  I took him back to his house and called out to see if anyone was there.  A man came up to the fence (the same fence that the dog had escaped through) and we talked.  “Is this your dog?  He got out last weekend and came to my house, and now here he is again.  I think he likes me.”  The guy said, “yeah, he’s a good dog.  He was missing last night and today; we didn’t know where he was.”  That emboldened me and I finally asked, “can I buy him from you?”

The man looked at me like I was crazy, then came to his senses, asked me how much I’d offer ($100), and said it was his brother’s dog and that he’d go ask him.  He disappeared to go ask his brother and then came back to say no, the dog wasn’t for sale.  I started to get a little upset at that point.  The brother came out and I wheedled, trying to convince him to sell me the dog, which they were calling Champion (hello!  Have you seen the pictures in the previous post?  That dog is NOT a “Champion!”).  When they said no again, I couldn’t help it and started to cry, and said “well, if he’s not for sale, then I should go, because this is too painful.”  I told the dog to go inside, back onto his owner’s property, and he wouldn’t go.  Finally, I started to walk away and the brother yelled after me, “$200!”  I turned around and said, “okay!  let me go home and get the money, I’ll be right back!”

I ran home, gathered the cash, wrote out a little note saying that he was transferring ownership of the dog to me (Mike’s idea, and a good one at that) , and ran back to their house.  I gave the guy the money, he gave me the dog, and Rey and I went home.

So far, a few hours into owning the dog for real, so good.  This may be the best $200 we’ve ever spent!

Music will write at length about this later, but the dog she eluded to earlier in the week is now ours!

Ain’t he cute? His name is Rey.

He makes me happy, but he makes Music *really* happy!

We decided to celebrate by taking a trip to PetsMart, and buying a few things…

And we used our Christmas gift card from Grandma Ede and Grandpa George. Thanks, guys!

Our neighborhood has been plagued by graffiti (that’s one of the downsides to moving into a gentrifying neighborhood).  Walls and alleys in the ‘hood are covered in people’s names and the names of tagging crews, and I hate the unsightliness of it.  This isn’t mural-style work, it’s ugly scrawling.  Since we bought the house in September, we’ve been lucky and haven’t had to deal with much of it on our property, but we can see it all around us.  In an attempt to become smarter about graffiti, I called the Graffiti Strike Force Detective and learned a little bit more about who tags in our neighborhood, what we could do to minimize tagging on our property, and what to do if we see someone doing it.  The detective was very patient and said that if we saw someone tagging, we should call 911 to report it as a crime in progress, and that with an eyewitness statement and the cops finding the person or people doing it, the City Attorney could prosecute.

Last night, I was driving home from work when Mike called to say that he’d been standing in our kitchen when he saw a couple of guys tagging on the wall across the street.  It was broad daylight, just before 5 pm, and there these guys were, writing in huge letters on this wall.  Crazy!  Remembering what I told him the detective had told me, Mike called 911 and within minutes, four cop cars rolled up and caught the thugs!  Mike’s keen eye and quick thinking, plus the speed of the responding officers, resulted in two taggers off the streets.

I talked to the detective this morning and he said that the guys are being held on a $35,000 bond (whatever that means).  Both guys are going to face felonies, because they have priors, and one of them apparently is an illegal alien and will be deported!  The detective was very happy that all the elements were coming together, and I am hopeful that this is the first step in letting these punk taggers know that we’re not going to accept tagging in our neighborhood anymore.

Mike and I were working in the yard last night when a cute, friendly little terrier puppy found his way to our gate. He didn’t have a collar on, so we looked around to see if his owners were around, but didn’t see anyone. We went to a neighbor’s house to see if she knew who he belonged to, and it turned out he lives a couple of houses away. When we went to the house, we found that it was under construction and that no one was home. I, of course, had already fallen in love with the little guy, and suggested we take him home and keep him. If his owners couldn’t be bothered to keep him safe and secure, they don’t deserve such a great dog!

The neighbor gave us a couple of dog treats she gives to her dog, and off we went to our house. We gave him some water and, after trying on a few names, decided to call him Rey (”king” in Spanish). He’s a regal sort of dog, with golden hair with reddish highlights, and it suited him perfectly. Mike went to the store to get Rey some food and treats, and we spent the rest of the night adoring our new little puppy, discussing next steps. Should we leave a note for the owners saying “we found your dog?” Should we wait to see if they put up signs? Could we just keep him and not tell anyone? All the while, I had visions of a bad sitcom, where the little kid falls in love with a dog he found, only to have the owners come to take the dog back. In the sitcom, the kid is crushed, but wants to do right by the dog, so he sends the dog off, saying “Now you have two homes. I’ll always love you, doggie!”

At the end of the night, we bedded the dog down in the bathroom with his food and water and a towel to lay on. I woke up this morning and took him outside, and we sat on the steps in the sun and I rubbed his belly for what seemed like an eternity. We came inside and I laid on the couch to watch some tv and he laid next to me contentedly. It was great.

When Mike went outside to finish working on the garden, Rey slipped away, through the front fence and onto the street. He trotted around the block, down the alley, and back to his home. Mike followed him and talked to the who guys who were there, who confirmed that he’s their dog. He then came back and told me the bad news– we no longer are the proud pet parents of the cutest little terrier in the world.

In the sitcom, this is where they’d roll the credits.