A new phone, an old phone, a usable phone. I now have three numbers.
The latest is my work Blackberry, and I aim to discourage folks from leaving messages there with any hope of getting a prompt reply. I also hope that Jill eventually gives out her new number to everybody. Meanwhile somebody wants a job reference for somebody else, Bernard or Benedict or somebody has an upcoming medical appointment that I hope somebody remembers, and a couple folks have indicated they know they've gotten a wrong number - but were having fun anyway.
Here is it's message:
"Hey, you only THINK you’ve reached Heather’s cell. Listen up and grab a pen. This is a smart phone, meaning it requires three hands, two eyeballs, and one tech-savvy brain to operate. I’m driving. In fact I’m always driving, all day long, so you’re kinda SOL. If you really want to talk to me, call my dumb phone, (--- --- ----). I can actually work that one. Or leave a message or text me at this number. I’ll figure out how to get those messages... eventually."
And no, I haven't figured out texting yet. But I'm willing to work on it. I do at least get the voicemails.
As for the home phone, I doubt anybody but telemarketers and opinion surveyors use that number. We certainly don't, except for the occasional outgoing call when we don't want to use our cells, or when one of us tries to reach another at home when their cell is off. It announces calls in a weird voice, but you can still hear "call from Mom's cell". We always ignore the ones from "Joel Free Call" - apparently the system can't read "T"s too well. "Ogden Yoo Tee" also get ignored, popular a source as it is.
If you try us on that line, here's what you will hear:
"You have reached (--- ----). If that’s the number you are actually dialing, we are sorry. Nobody ever uses this phone. We only have this because we need it to have internet service. If you know us - Paul, Rich, Steve and Heather - we all have cell phones. Call us on that if you really want to talk to us. If you are a telemarketer, this is on the do-not-call list. Yeah, good luck . We are not giving out those numbers. If you are looking for John or Gladys, they have relocated to Fort Snelling. Feel free to go visit them there any time. Bring flowers. Or try calling them at 1-800-CREMAINS. Bye."
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Friday, October 12, 2012
A Threat To Take Seriously
My first stop yesterday was in a clinic. Ever since the HIPA laws went into effect, reception areas for those are set up with each person getting a section of a long countertop that looks like it's wearing blinders. It gives only the illusion of privacy, since everybody knows sound can't travel over a 3-foot barrier. Right?
This particular spot had a sign on the wall behind where the receptionist sat. As a mother of three, it gave me chills - or would have had I thought they meant it:
"Unattended children will be given espresso and a puppy."
This particular spot had a sign on the wall behind where the receptionist sat. As a mother of three, it gave me chills - or would have had I thought they meant it:
"Unattended children will be given espresso and a puppy."
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Stoopidd
Nothing - absolutely nothing - makes me feel more stupid than trying to set up a piece of new technology. Especially when it shouldn't be all that new.
Like a cell phone, for example. One of the requirements of the upcoming job for the Phoenix branch of the company I already work for is my very own Blackberry. I finally got around to turning in the company Blackberry to the office up here and buying my own. It was a very near thing: WalMart only had three left and no plans to restock any Blackberries. Possibly ever.
When you've used a piece of technology for a couple years, you think you know it. Get over it. You're wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong!
Just one item: the keylock is a button on top of this phone. In the other model it locks by pushing the middle of the left side, and unlocks at the top. No real biggie: just two years' worth of habit to relearn, reinforced by the futility of pushing the side where no button exists.
Another: there is a red LED that flashes at me on this phone. On the old one it meant that the battery was low. It's possible it means that on this one too but it also means other things. It flashes red when the battery is just fine, thank you. I haven't decoded what else it means, and the booklet is not helpful, starting with the fact that parts of the phone have one name when the arrow points to them and then in the text you are told to go to some other name.
When in doubt, call the company, right? There's a phone number listed in the booklet. Of course they want your 4-digit code to prove you are the owner of the phone before they can give you any information.
I have a 4-digit code? Really? On my paperwork, maybe, from WalMart? That of course is not in the car with me. Maybe call WalMart. My salesman is not in today, and they have no way of getting my code. Try an actual Sprint store. And by "try" they mean actually walking in the door with your phone. And your paperwork. Where is a Sprint store? Who knows?
In the process of this conversation I had a discussion with the clerk about the Catch-22 of needing a 4-digit code in order to get information about your 4-digit code. He had no idea what a Catch-22 was. Is it possible to be that young?
Apparently.
Some things are dependable. When the phone freezes up and/or shuts itself off for no reason and won't accept a charge, you can still depend on a hard reboot. As in, pry the back off (again, another location to get the leverage on this phone than on the last one), pull the battery out, wait, replace it, and then be patient. It takes about 5 minutes to power up enough to turn on again. You can entertain yourself by watching the little blue line gradually fill in, your tease of a progress report. Because when that's done, you can also depend on it taking a while longer as there are still things to push and places to poke before the thing is running the proper software again.
If watching the blue line fail to entertain you, you could try trimming your toenails. Or writing the Great American Novel. Or the ever popular Bathroom Break.
I haven't figured out texting yet. I mean, I text all the time in the work software program. It only goes to the dispatcher whose zone I'm in at the time. I need to learn to send and receive with the rest of the world. Already I'm receiving some, but when I fight my way into that app, all I get is something with a time stamp entitled "no reply Sprint", fronting for a blank page. I don't seem to have any way to delete it, but I can save it to my contacts.
As if.
But that can wait. First I need to set up my voicemail box. It claims to be easy, and talks you through it. OK, sounds like I need to put it on speaker since it's impossible to program with the thing in your ear to hear the step and then hold it in front of you to decipher the keypad and figure out what they heck they're talking about. By the time you realize speaker phone is handy the menu has already changed and that option is no longer available. A full minute is required to figure out how to exit the app so you can start over, a bit wiser this time. But oops, work is calling, no time to play.
Eventually there is another lull in work, and you try again. This time you get as far as figuring just what 4-digit code you want to enter for a password - there are so many bad choices to reject - and are ready for the task.
At least that's what you think. In the work program there is the need to hit the "alt" button to switch the keypad into numbers and characters. Otherwise every stroke is a letter. So hitting and holding alt while entering your chosen numbers, you wait for the voice. It tells you you have hit - - - -, four numbers completely different from what you wanted. Quick quandary: do you try to remember what your new inadvertent code is? Is there time to write it down before you go on or are you forever locked out of your own voicemail box now? OK, it's telling you you have a choice. If you agree with the numbers it just read back to you, press pound. If not, press star.
Star.
Repeat whole process. Same reading of wrong number back to you. Hit star again.
At least the voice is indefatigable. At some point comes the realization that maybe it could be tried without the "alt". Finally the voice recited the numbers you intended all along. If you agree, press pound. If not, press star.
Pound. Of course. And what a feeling of achievement! There is almost time to wonder how on earth one enters letters if it automatically selects for numbers on the keypad, since letters are offered as an option for the password. But before you can dally on that garden path, the voice again offers you the information of your selected numbers and the choice between pound and star.
Humph! Pound, again.
And again the voice repeats your selection of numbers and the option of pound or star.
ARRRGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
Quick, exit the program! No, push the curly go-back arrow again, and again, and finally ... whew!
When in the future I finally do get into the program to leave an answering message, I've got some choice words planned. And then I have to figure out how to actually hear the messages left.
I figure to be proficient by, say, February.
Meanwhile, call me on my stupid phone. Unlike the smart phone, I can work that one.
Like a cell phone, for example. One of the requirements of the upcoming job for the Phoenix branch of the company I already work for is my very own Blackberry. I finally got around to turning in the company Blackberry to the office up here and buying my own. It was a very near thing: WalMart only had three left and no plans to restock any Blackberries. Possibly ever.
When you've used a piece of technology for a couple years, you think you know it. Get over it. You're wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong!
Just one item: the keylock is a button on top of this phone. In the other model it locks by pushing the middle of the left side, and unlocks at the top. No real biggie: just two years' worth of habit to relearn, reinforced by the futility of pushing the side where no button exists.
Another: there is a red LED that flashes at me on this phone. On the old one it meant that the battery was low. It's possible it means that on this one too but it also means other things. It flashes red when the battery is just fine, thank you. I haven't decoded what else it means, and the booklet is not helpful, starting with the fact that parts of the phone have one name when the arrow points to them and then in the text you are told to go to some other name.
When in doubt, call the company, right? There's a phone number listed in the booklet. Of course they want your 4-digit code to prove you are the owner of the phone before they can give you any information.
I have a 4-digit code? Really? On my paperwork, maybe, from WalMart? That of course is not in the car with me. Maybe call WalMart. My salesman is not in today, and they have no way of getting my code. Try an actual Sprint store. And by "try" they mean actually walking in the door with your phone. And your paperwork. Where is a Sprint store? Who knows?
In the process of this conversation I had a discussion with the clerk about the Catch-22 of needing a 4-digit code in order to get information about your 4-digit code. He had no idea what a Catch-22 was. Is it possible to be that young?
Apparently.
Some things are dependable. When the phone freezes up and/or shuts itself off for no reason and won't accept a charge, you can still depend on a hard reboot. As in, pry the back off (again, another location to get the leverage on this phone than on the last one), pull the battery out, wait, replace it, and then be patient. It takes about 5 minutes to power up enough to turn on again. You can entertain yourself by watching the little blue line gradually fill in, your tease of a progress report. Because when that's done, you can also depend on it taking a while longer as there are still things to push and places to poke before the thing is running the proper software again.
If watching the blue line fail to entertain you, you could try trimming your toenails. Or writing the Great American Novel. Or the ever popular Bathroom Break.
I haven't figured out texting yet. I mean, I text all the time in the work software program. It only goes to the dispatcher whose zone I'm in at the time. I need to learn to send and receive with the rest of the world. Already I'm receiving some, but when I fight my way into that app, all I get is something with a time stamp entitled "no reply Sprint", fronting for a blank page. I don't seem to have any way to delete it, but I can save it to my contacts.
As if.
But that can wait. First I need to set up my voicemail box. It claims to be easy, and talks you through it. OK, sounds like I need to put it on speaker since it's impossible to program with the thing in your ear to hear the step and then hold it in front of you to decipher the keypad and figure out what they heck they're talking about. By the time you realize speaker phone is handy the menu has already changed and that option is no longer available. A full minute is required to figure out how to exit the app so you can start over, a bit wiser this time. But oops, work is calling, no time to play.
Eventually there is another lull in work, and you try again. This time you get as far as figuring just what 4-digit code you want to enter for a password - there are so many bad choices to reject - and are ready for the task.
At least that's what you think. In the work program there is the need to hit the "alt" button to switch the keypad into numbers and characters. Otherwise every stroke is a letter. So hitting and holding alt while entering your chosen numbers, you wait for the voice. It tells you you have hit - - - -, four numbers completely different from what you wanted. Quick quandary: do you try to remember what your new inadvertent code is? Is there time to write it down before you go on or are you forever locked out of your own voicemail box now? OK, it's telling you you have a choice. If you agree with the numbers it just read back to you, press pound. If not, press star.
Star.
Repeat whole process. Same reading of wrong number back to you. Hit star again.
At least the voice is indefatigable. At some point comes the realization that maybe it could be tried without the "alt". Finally the voice recited the numbers you intended all along. If you agree, press pound. If not, press star.
Pound. Of course. And what a feeling of achievement! There is almost time to wonder how on earth one enters letters if it automatically selects for numbers on the keypad, since letters are offered as an option for the password. But before you can dally on that garden path, the voice again offers you the information of your selected numbers and the choice between pound and star.
Humph! Pound, again.
And again the voice repeats your selection of numbers and the option of pound or star.
ARRRGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
Quick, exit the program! No, push the curly go-back arrow again, and again, and finally ... whew!
When in the future I finally do get into the program to leave an answering message, I've got some choice words planned. And then I have to figure out how to actually hear the messages left.
I figure to be proficient by, say, February.
Meanwhile, call me on my stupid phone. Unlike the smart phone, I can work that one.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Worst Toy of the Century
There is a contest sponsored on NPR. It renews weekly with a new question, with the winner earning an NPR mug. This week's challenge is choosing the worst toy of this century. They already list the top 5 best toys of last century, starting with G I Joe by the select group doing the voting. To get the brain cells running along the tracks, they offered up an example for worst toy of a "Disgraced-Candidate Barbie".
For my nickle they could have left off the "Disgraced-Candidate" part. Barbies by themselves are among the worst toys ever. If they expanded the category for the contest to the most oxymoronic toy, it's be an anatomically correct Barbie.
The trouble is, toys have so many different audiences. There are divisions by age and gender. In the toddler category, the worst toy of any century - always bearing that in this age group simplicity is key - would be a Sharp Stick.
On the other end, worst adult toys likely couldn't be described on the radio. Or is it just me that thinks they'd take that kind of bend?
I finally settled on my submission. It's the "Junior Terrorist Chemistry Set". When you buy one, Amazon suggests that others who have purchased this have also purchased the "Junior Terrorist Explodable Towers Erector Set".
If your wheels have started turning, you have until Oct. 3 to enter.
For my nickle they could have left off the "Disgraced-Candidate" part. Barbies by themselves are among the worst toys ever. If they expanded the category for the contest to the most oxymoronic toy, it's be an anatomically correct Barbie.
The trouble is, toys have so many different audiences. There are divisions by age and gender. In the toddler category, the worst toy of any century - always bearing that in this age group simplicity is key - would be a Sharp Stick.
On the other end, worst adult toys likely couldn't be described on the radio. Or is it just me that thinks they'd take that kind of bend?
I finally settled on my submission. It's the "Junior Terrorist Chemistry Set". When you buy one, Amazon suggests that others who have purchased this have also purchased the "Junior Terrorist Explodable Towers Erector Set".
If your wheels have started turning, you have until Oct. 3 to enter.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Like Your Weather?
Seriously, it's not a trick question: do you like your weather?
I'm talking to all you I-did-it-all-myself Republicans out there, the ones who think they got no help from the government just because they haven't ever needed (or conveniently forgot that they had) a government-backed business loan, or to go on welfare: do you like your weather?
Is it well-behaved where you live and run your business? The days are sunny, the nights rain politely and on schedule. No droughts requiring either irrigation or crop insurance? No floods requiring FEMA, followed by the Army Corps of Engineers to help prevent the next one from causing so much damage? No unseasonal snow storms upsetting traffic so you can't ship to meet your on-time demands? No heavy snow loads caving in your warehouse roofs? No icy roads sending your trucks jackknifing all over the place? No hail storms to ruin crops and roofs and shatter windows? No heavy straight line winds? No tornadoes? How about hurricaines?
So if your weather isn't always polite and cooperative, don't you at least want to know about it ahead of time so you can make plans?
Ever heard of GOES 13? It's job is supposed to be to help you know about the weather ahead of time. It's one of NOAA's weather satellites. Or was. A few days ago reports were that it had crashed. Now they're talking about technical problems. So it's still up there, in geosynchronous orbit over the Atlantic and the east coast. You know, an area that tends to have a lot of major weather events that affect the country. But we're not getting the data from it. And there's no plan to send a mission up and fix it. There's this little thing called a budget that just doesn't have any extra room in it because cutting is all the rage these days, because, hey, government is useless, right? And there's another little issue about a thing called space shuttles that we've outsourced to the Russians because space is expensive and - again - useless, right?
So if they can fix GOES 13 at all, it'll have to be from the ground.
Good luck with that.
And hey, I'm sure there will never be another hurricane heading in from the Atlantic and turning up along the east coast, so no worries, mate.
For the immediate future, GOES 14 can be moved into position if they can't fix 13. At least there's one in reserve. But we're not sending any more up. Not in the budget. And they do fail. They will all eventually slow down and crash. And then what? We can't make and send more up on a moment's notice because somebody finally decided there was need.
Buy hey, Mr. I-did-it-all-myself, you did this yourself before too, right? And you can do it all again, right? Because it doesn't take the collective to put up a weather satellite, it takes individual initiative. You go right ahead and start planning your next weather satellite, because if government isn't going to be able to do it, and/or shouldn't by your philosophy, somebody needs to.
Surely you didn't think we're going to outsource that to the Chinese?
I'm talking to all you I-did-it-all-myself Republicans out there, the ones who think they got no help from the government just because they haven't ever needed (or conveniently forgot that they had) a government-backed business loan, or to go on welfare: do you like your weather?
Is it well-behaved where you live and run your business? The days are sunny, the nights rain politely and on schedule. No droughts requiring either irrigation or crop insurance? No floods requiring FEMA, followed by the Army Corps of Engineers to help prevent the next one from causing so much damage? No unseasonal snow storms upsetting traffic so you can't ship to meet your on-time demands? No heavy snow loads caving in your warehouse roofs? No icy roads sending your trucks jackknifing all over the place? No hail storms to ruin crops and roofs and shatter windows? No heavy straight line winds? No tornadoes? How about hurricaines?
So if your weather isn't always polite and cooperative, don't you at least want to know about it ahead of time so you can make plans?
Ever heard of GOES 13? It's job is supposed to be to help you know about the weather ahead of time. It's one of NOAA's weather satellites. Or was. A few days ago reports were that it had crashed. Now they're talking about technical problems. So it's still up there, in geosynchronous orbit over the Atlantic and the east coast. You know, an area that tends to have a lot of major weather events that affect the country. But we're not getting the data from it. And there's no plan to send a mission up and fix it. There's this little thing called a budget that just doesn't have any extra room in it because cutting is all the rage these days, because, hey, government is useless, right? And there's another little issue about a thing called space shuttles that we've outsourced to the Russians because space is expensive and - again - useless, right?
So if they can fix GOES 13 at all, it'll have to be from the ground.
Good luck with that.
And hey, I'm sure there will never be another hurricane heading in from the Atlantic and turning up along the east coast, so no worries, mate.
For the immediate future, GOES 14 can be moved into position if they can't fix 13. At least there's one in reserve. But we're not sending any more up. Not in the budget. And they do fail. They will all eventually slow down and crash. And then what? We can't make and send more up on a moment's notice because somebody finally decided there was need.
Buy hey, Mr. I-did-it-all-myself, you did this yourself before too, right? And you can do it all again, right? Because it doesn't take the collective to put up a weather satellite, it takes individual initiative. You go right ahead and start planning your next weather satellite, because if government isn't going to be able to do it, and/or shouldn't by your philosophy, somebody needs to.
Surely you didn't think we're going to outsource that to the Chinese?
Friday, September 28, 2012
The Week In Review: Short Form
Sniffle. Sniff sniff, dab dab hon-n-n-nk. Drip wipe sniffle dab honk honk dab dab toss. Sniff sniff hack honk hack hack wipe dab dab honk honk HONK dab dab toss. Hack hack hack hack hack hack honk dab dab bre-e-e-e-eathe in, exhale. Hack. Honk. drip drip sniffle honk honk dab dab toss. Hack hack hack hack suck, ahhhhh. Sniffle dab honk honk snerg snerg snerg snort honk honk dab dab toss. Sniffle. Sniffle. Sniffle honk honk dab honk dab honk dab snerg snerg hack hack hack hack. Honk honk dab sniff dab honk honk dab dab snerg snerg hack hack gag snerg gag snerg gag honk honk dab toss. Hack. Hack. Hack hack hack. Tickle hack tickle hack hack tickle hack hack hack hack honk honk dab dab toss. Hack. Sniff.
Repeat.
Repeat.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
But... No Sticker
Yesterday actually started at 7:45 PM the night before with a reminder to Steve that we both had 15 minutes to get in our last meal of the day. His doctor, which is also mine, wanted a fasting blood sugar level from both of us. That meant 12 hours NPO.
In the morning it began with hitting the heat on setting on the hallway thermostat on the way to the bathroom. I've been avoiding using the furnace as much as possible, but a couple recent nights dipping into the 30's have reluctantly ended that. At least the last couple mornings all I do is keep the house shut up tight and only flip it on just before my shower, off before I leave, letting the sum warm it the rest of the day. It reads 70 before I hit the switch, but right now that's too cold. 72 feels much better. Even though the AC has been running this summer, the first time the furnace goes on it stinks with that "I'm burning off all the dust" smell.
Steve and I were in and out of the lab in no time. It took longer to check in than get stabbed and released. Usually they moan and groan about the condition of my arms, both sporting lumps of scar tissue from being a 10 gallon blood donor plus about a year at the "stab lab" selling plasma way back in the really lean years. Not this tech. She swabbed, poked with the fingernail, and slipped that needle in so smoothly I could hardly tell she'd done anything.
Note to Doctor: Keep this one!!!!!!!
Then a quick trip to the drive-thru Mickey D's: coffee for me for the morning pills, milk and his favorite sandwich for Steve. We ate in the parking lot, since I thought it unwise to choke down all those pills while behind the wheel. I mix my own sugar-free mocha, and much prefer tasting it to wearing it.
Next stop was the county court house, to the auditor's office. It was time to vote! Ballots have been ready since middle of last week. Minnesota allows early absentee voting for those who will not be at the polls on the day - not that they actually check up on you. We'll be in sunny Arizona by then. In person voting is much easier than by mail since there's less to fill out and you don't have to be so particular in how the envelopes get filled out since there's only one. I learned by watching the Franken recount how easy it is to get your absentee ballot thrown out by doing the envelopes improperly. All the single envelope needs is my name and the last four of my SS#. That gets compared against the application to vote absentee that I just filled out. We both got a table and chair for the whole process and were offered privacy screens which we both turned down.
Here's the skivvy: I used to be an independent. John Anderson was once my presidential choice. But modern Republicans have turned me determinedly Democratic, and if anybody cares, I voted straight ticket. Plus "NO" on both ballot questions. I liked both incumbents on the city council ballot, and nobody else after the first couple judges had competition so I mostly didn't bother. Steve told me how he was planning on voting, but if he wants you to know, it's for him to say.
We weren't done with the morning errands yet. Next stop was city hall. Lynn, the city clerk, is also a notary. Her becoming one was paid for by the city, and those services are free to city residents. Occasionally I take advantage of them. Yesterday was to make a minor change to the Warranty Deed on the Sun City house. Steve will now be a part owner and can partake freely of the perks of being in Sun City without paying an extra yearly fee.
I almost thought that wasn't going to happen. We contacted a paralegal referred to us, sent her the info she requested plus a check, and waited for her return email with the document(s) needing to be dated, signed and notarized. She, in turn, played email tag. First it was to confirm our marital statuses. Then another question and another. I've been dealing with a cold and not checking in on the computer daily, so it really dragged out. She couldn't have asked all the questions at once? I mean really? She does this stuff regularly since the person referring us was the one we worked with from the title company.
Finally I was ready to drop Steve at home, hit the mail box with the notarized paperwork, fill the tank, and log on to work. Everything on the to-do list accomplished. Still, I noted with some disappointment as I drove off, I wasn't sporting a little red "I Voted" sticker.
Dang!
In the morning it began with hitting the heat on setting on the hallway thermostat on the way to the bathroom. I've been avoiding using the furnace as much as possible, but a couple recent nights dipping into the 30's have reluctantly ended that. At least the last couple mornings all I do is keep the house shut up tight and only flip it on just before my shower, off before I leave, letting the sum warm it the rest of the day. It reads 70 before I hit the switch, but right now that's too cold. 72 feels much better. Even though the AC has been running this summer, the first time the furnace goes on it stinks with that "I'm burning off all the dust" smell.
Steve and I were in and out of the lab in no time. It took longer to check in than get stabbed and released. Usually they moan and groan about the condition of my arms, both sporting lumps of scar tissue from being a 10 gallon blood donor plus about a year at the "stab lab" selling plasma way back in the really lean years. Not this tech. She swabbed, poked with the fingernail, and slipped that needle in so smoothly I could hardly tell she'd done anything.
Note to Doctor: Keep this one!!!!!!!
Then a quick trip to the drive-thru Mickey D's: coffee for me for the morning pills, milk and his favorite sandwich for Steve. We ate in the parking lot, since I thought it unwise to choke down all those pills while behind the wheel. I mix my own sugar-free mocha, and much prefer tasting it to wearing it.
Next stop was the county court house, to the auditor's office. It was time to vote! Ballots have been ready since middle of last week. Minnesota allows early absentee voting for those who will not be at the polls on the day - not that they actually check up on you. We'll be in sunny Arizona by then. In person voting is much easier than by mail since there's less to fill out and you don't have to be so particular in how the envelopes get filled out since there's only one. I learned by watching the Franken recount how easy it is to get your absentee ballot thrown out by doing the envelopes improperly. All the single envelope needs is my name and the last four of my SS#. That gets compared against the application to vote absentee that I just filled out. We both got a table and chair for the whole process and were offered privacy screens which we both turned down.
Here's the skivvy: I used to be an independent. John Anderson was once my presidential choice. But modern Republicans have turned me determinedly Democratic, and if anybody cares, I voted straight ticket. Plus "NO" on both ballot questions. I liked both incumbents on the city council ballot, and nobody else after the first couple judges had competition so I mostly didn't bother. Steve told me how he was planning on voting, but if he wants you to know, it's for him to say.
We weren't done with the morning errands yet. Next stop was city hall. Lynn, the city clerk, is also a notary. Her becoming one was paid for by the city, and those services are free to city residents. Occasionally I take advantage of them. Yesterday was to make a minor change to the Warranty Deed on the Sun City house. Steve will now be a part owner and can partake freely of the perks of being in Sun City without paying an extra yearly fee.
I almost thought that wasn't going to happen. We contacted a paralegal referred to us, sent her the info she requested plus a check, and waited for her return email with the document(s) needing to be dated, signed and notarized. She, in turn, played email tag. First it was to confirm our marital statuses. Then another question and another. I've been dealing with a cold and not checking in on the computer daily, so it really dragged out. She couldn't have asked all the questions at once? I mean really? She does this stuff regularly since the person referring us was the one we worked with from the title company.
Finally I was ready to drop Steve at home, hit the mail box with the notarized paperwork, fill the tank, and log on to work. Everything on the to-do list accomplished. Still, I noted with some disappointment as I drove off, I wasn't sporting a little red "I Voted" sticker.
Dang!
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