My father got up out of his chair to go to the bathroom, and it was no longer the healthy him, but rather the frail one that we have seen since his fall on the ice. He was having trouble keeping his balance, and fell on the floor. I rushed over to pick him up, and he was gone; the only thing left was his shoes. I wept.

I told Victoria my dream, and she told me she has had similar dreams about her dearly departed mother.

I think my mother in the dream was right- he is still here, in the minds and hearts of those who loved him.

You’d think that when the person doing a project is out attending two funerals in two weeks, that there would be some thought to extending some deadlines that were set before the two funerals. You would think, but apparently no one at the City of Tulsa. So, I came back from my father’s funeral and had to spend the next week-and-a-half being yelled and cussed at because I was having trouble making these deadlines that should have been extended because two of my close family members died two weeks apart. I was so annoyed that I commented to several of my coworkers that I am sorry that my brother-in-law and father had to die and upset some schedules, that the next time, I will tell my family members to be more considerate of others and their schedules when they decide to die.

it is not just the time issues; it’s money issues as well. I budget about 45 days in advance, and it is impossible to budget for a funeral, much less two. I do not know when my loved ones are going to die, but it seems that there are those who I owe who think I should. Somehow, I am now looked at as some kind of deadbeat, because the money I had budgeted to pay their bill had to be used to fix my car so that I could get to the funerals and the cost of going. I did not tell the fan motor on my car to quit the night before I was to travel seven hours for a funeral. I did not tell Jim and my father to die right when Victoria and I were in the process of opening the shop, forcing us to lose two weeks because we had to close to attend my father’s funeral less than a week after we opened. Not a good way to start, as no one even knew we were open. This past week was the first full week we were open. Yet, instead of the “good Christian people” that we owe a couple of hundred dollars to doing the Christian thing, and actually giving us a couple of weeks to digest this huge financial hit, all we are getting is gimme, gimme, gimme, and gimme now! To add insult to injury, these are the same people who eagerly cry “Woe is me!” to others so that they will cut them some slack! The result of this has been the permanent poisoning of personal and business relationships.

I am sorry that Jim and my father died and disrupted your lives.

Oh, and don’t think I will forget the complete lack of compassion…

http://thefineprint.t2s2.org/Oklahoma/tfp091211.html

(If you are having problems with the link, either copy the URL into your browser OR go to “The Fine Print” on the www.t2s2.org website and click on the OKLAHOMA index and it is the post for Sept
12 2011. Sorry about the link issues!)

In case I don’t get the opportunity, Number 7 turns 2 at the end of this month, and we have three birthdays in a two week period in April – I turn 44, Number 4 1/2 turns 11, and Number 2 turns 17…..

I was saddened to hear this, and saddened to hear some of the excuses, such as “a paycut will reduce my pension.”  Well guess what?  Those 65 won’t get a pension.

The union likes to boast about its teamwork, that “we are all in this together.”  Apparently not.  I find it very disheartening that people would prefer to see others lose their jobs than take a pay cut.  Sad.  Very very sad.

Now, instead of knowing that I have a job, but at a reduced salary, I have to stress for the next 24 hours of whether or not I even have a job at all.  I hope you enjoy your retirement!

http://www.tulsaworld.com/news/article.aspx?subjectid=334&articleid=20100121_11_A1_Kathle56984

The harsh reality is that by the time I rehire my attorney, redo the agreements based on my lowered salary, and get some enforcement of the agreement, it will be at least a year before I will see any of the monies that my ex is supposed to pay.  While those monies would close my personal budget deficits, given that I can cover the deficits for six months, and I won’t realistically see any funds for a year, I have a real problem.

Given my current financial bind, I was pleasantly surprised when Number 2 handed me her tips on Saturday and told me that I should use it to pay for school lunches, which cost me upwards of $60 a week.  What really bites is that even with my reduced salary of $58000 I am still considered rich by Oklahoma standards and do not qualify for reduced lunches, even with my 11 person household.

I know there are many times that Number 2 frustrates me because she does her own thing and is rarely home with the family.  Nonetheless, it was a very nice gesture, and very helpful, too.  Every little bit helps.  I just wish that my ex can get over her pettiness and live up to her obligations.

After the Mayor finished giving the bad news, he opened it up to questions and comments from the floor.  I was very disappointed at the amount of envy I heard.  Two groups were specifically targeted – the police department, and those who earn over $50000 a year.

Several years ago, when the City had its last budget crisis, the police union got a raise while the non-unionized employees took about a 10 percent pay cut.  Six years later, the non-unionized employees still haven’t forgiven the police union, and strongly expressed their very negative opinion of the police department and their incessant whining.  Heightening the emotions is the fact that the police union publicly denounced the Mayor as a “crook” and an “extortionist” for giving them the choice of 135 layoffs or pay cuts and fewer layoffs.  In other words, he refuses to maintain the status quo, and wants the police to share in the budgetary pains.

I could understand the vitriol aimed at the police department.  I was blown away at the vitriol aimed at those of us who earn more than $50000.  There were several speakers who demanded that those of us who earn more than $50000 a year take a bigger pay cut than those who earn less than $50000, because it is obvious that those of us who earn more than $50000 live extravagant lifestyles and can afford to lose more income.  This class envy crap really pisses me off.  Until this latest pay cut, I earned $61000 a year, which seems like a lot of money.  To most people, it is.  Except that I am supporting 11 people on that $61000!  If I were single and earned $20000 a year I would have more disposable income than I do making $61000.  It pisses me off that just because I earn $61000 a year people assume that I have money to burn.  I blame the Democrats for this class envy crap, as they have convinced lower income people that those of us who earn more are greedy S.O.B.s who want to hoard money and keep them down.  I challenge any of those who think I should be penalized more because I earn more than $50000 a year to support 11 people on $61000.  Go ahead, I dare you!  And since I am so damned rich, I don’t qualify for government assistance for anything, so I pay full price for health care, college tuition for my daughter, and school lunches.  Crap, just the school lunches are $64 a week!

No, I am not cheap when I don’t contribute $5 and $5 there for this, that, and the other.  I am on a tight budget.  I think I am doing a pretty bang-up job providing for my family on one income, so that my children can have a mother at home and don’t have to fend for themselves.  Like my father, I have chosen to provide a loving, stable home for my children, a home in which they have a mother who is there to tend to there needs throughout the day.  To do that, requires a decent salary.  Don’t begrudge me that!

I have figured out that after this latest pay cut, I will be making less money than I did ten years ago.  Yes, we did get change on Election Day in 2008, only it wasn’t change for the better.  I just hope I can hang on until 2012!

Yes, it was one of my Christmas cards! 

There were several reasons for my flabbergastedness.  First, this card was postmarked December 7, and it floated around the USPS for more than two weeks until it was marked “UNDELIVERABLE” on December 24, and I finally received it back on December 28.  Yes, my precious was bouncing around the system for three weeks before finally coming home!

Second, this card was for Sibling 2, who lives within a mile a my parents.  They share a ZIP code.  Somehow, I got the ZIP code right on the card to my parents and wrong on the card to my sister and brother-in-law.  The “4″ at the end of the ZIP code should’ve been a “9″.  Yes, I feel stupid.  In my defense, it was around 1 AM when I was writing my cards, but then again, I got one right and the other wrong.  Go figure. 

So, to Sibling 2 and her family I want to say – MERRY CHRISTMAS!  Sorry you didn’t get my card.

Her Taurus has some issues, so it stays parked most of the time.  After all, why drive the problematic vehicle when we have two good vehicles?  Yesterday was one of those rare days where we had to drive it.

The new custody arrangements between my wife and her second ex spell out that he is to have my stepson every other weekend, and that they are to meet to exchange him in Newkirk, Oklahoma, which is midway between us and him.  Newkirk is a smallish town that is between nowhere and nowhere that is about 100 miles away.  Since I don’t want her driving the untrustworthy vehicle that far, she drives the car I normally drive to work, the P.T. Cruiser.  the logistical issue arises in the fact that I don’t get home from Tulsa until after she leaves, so I can’t drive the Cruiser.  We have the Expedition, but that is needed to haul children around Bartlesville throughout the day, so I can’t take that one to Tulsa, either.  Which leaves the Taurus.

Let’s just say she wasn’t thrilled with the idea of me taking the Taurus to Tulsa, as I am not familiar with its quirks.  (Of which there are many.)  But, I insisted as the road to Tulsa is a busy four-lane one and I am a man, so if I break down on the side of the road, there is a place for me to pull over, a high likelihood that a law enforcement officer will pass by, and a lower probability of me getting attacked by some random psycho (that has to do with the Mike Gundy “I’m a man” thing).

Before I left for work, I added several quarts of oil (the Taurus has a voracious appetite for motor oil!), and fired it up.  Despite the tantalizing and delicious smell of oil burning, it was running.  Satisfied that it was working, I left.  Several miles down the road, on the edge of Bartlesville, I pulled in to a Phillips 66 to get some gas, as that is the last gas station for 30 miles.  I got my gas, put the key into the ignition, the radio came on, and….nothing.  It wouldn’t turn over!  Crap!

I was befuddled.  Why would this car that had sat parked through the coldest days of the year fire up without hesitation and now decide, after four miles, to not fire up at all?  Hmmm.  What changed?  I noted to myself that I had left the radio on when I had stopped for gas, so there must be an electrical short that drained the battery.  I tried again.  Still, I had the radio, but not enough to turn over the engine.  I then made two phone calls.

The first call was to my boss, to explain the situation and why I would be a tad bit late.  I had a very important task I had to get done, so I wasn’t at all happy about this persnickety vehicle.  The second call was to my wife, asking her to grab the jumper cables and come and rescue me.

Meanwhile, I was still sitting in a dead vehicle.  A vehicle that was blocking the gas pumps.  I was sure that the station managers were glaring at me through the picture windows for cutting into their business.  While I was waiting to be rescued, I popped to hood to see if I could see the source of the problems.  Perhaps there was a loose connection.

I looked at the battery cables.  Nope, nice and tight.  Strange.  This battery was only a couple months old, and it shouldn’t discharge spontaneously like that.  Perhaps it got wet and shorted.  Nope, no sign of a leak.  The reservoir was full.  After what seemed like an eternity staring under the hood with a befuddled glaze in my eyes, I closed the hood.  I decided that since I was blocking the pumps, I’d put the transmission in neutral and push it out of the way until help arrived.  Much to my chagrin, the transmission wouldn’t budge.  What the heck?!

It was like the ignition was stuck.  Try as hard as I might, I couldn’t get the transmission to go into neutral.  I jiggled the key, but no success.  I’d had a lot of vehicles die on me, but I’d never had one where the transmission was locked in park.  Damned Fords!

I’ll give it one last try, I told myself.  I took the key out of the ignition, and put the key back into the ignition, and turned the switch to get the transmission to be able to go to neutral….and it started!  What the….?  Then I looked at the key in the ignition, and laughed.  Sometimes it is the simplest things that bedevil us the most.  You see, on my wife’s key ring, there are two ignition keys, both for Fords – one for the Taurus, and one for the Expedition.  Both keys look identical – same size, same shape, same color.  The only difference, and it is a subtle one, is what is written across the black head of the key.  Since I had my extra Expedition keys made at my Ford dealer, it has the FORD logo across the head; the Taurus key does not.

Yes, the reason that I couldn’t get the Taurus to start was that I was using the wrong ignition key!  The two keys are close enough that the fit in each other’s ignition switch, and can apparently turn on the electrical system, but not enough to start the car.  Perhaps it was that computer chip in the key that prevented it from starting; I don’t really know.  What I do know is that you can’t start a Taurus with an Expedition key.

After I discovered my error, I called my wife and left a message – “Never mind”.  I called the home phone, too, but couldn’t reach her.  Hmmm.  Not good.  So I decided to wait for her to show up.  After waiting for five or so more minutes, I decided that my best course of action would be to turn around and go home, and intercept her on the way.  Two blocks form the gas station, I intercepted her. 

I asked her if she had gotten my message.  She had not, because she had left her phone at home.  She was in such a rush to rescue me that she had forgotten it.  Glad I stayed and waited.  I don’t know about you, but I know that if my spouse called me needing to be rescued and I showed up and my spouse wasn’t there, I’d be both ticked and worried.  (Oh yeah, that’s exactly how I felt when my ex did that, and I drove 90 miles to rescue her!  But that’s another story!)

As you are aware, it’s been a rough month for both the Missus and I.  Somehow, my “Duh” moment seemed to bring, even only for a brief moment, a bit of joy and humor to our lives.