Waiting For Relief

It has been almost a month since I posted anything.  All two of my readers (including myself)--I'm sure--were waiting with bated breath for my next spewing o' happiness and excitement here!  I would like to say I was industrious and efficiently constructive, getting a lot of goals accomplished in that time, but--being honest--most of the time, during this last month, was spent playing waiting games...waiting for things to happen.  Pathetic, I know.

The unrelenting stress of our ongoing precarious financial and employment situations weighed so heavily on my husband and I that we could practically cut the tension in the air with a knife.  In any case, the atmosphere was not conducive for writing.  I mean, my posts are already depressing enough when things are actually going our way!  I have to laugh because I'm not sure if not writing is a bad or a good thing, considering the majority of the content!  Thus far, this blog has been used as a venue to vent off our tales of woe, with a generous helping of complaints about basically everything!

Anyway, when I say we spent the last few weeks waiting, I mean that we were waiting to file and receive our tax return.  We waited anxiously every day for the mail, swirling like starved vultures around the postman when he showed up.  This year we had a handful of tax-related documents that couldn't be plucked off the Internet (i.e., certain W-2s and 1099's).  We were relieved when, after weeks of painstakingly collecting the documents and forms we needed, we had everything ready to prepare our taxes.

But at 7:10 a.m., Saturday, January 30th, we received a no-nonsense-sounding knock at our front door.  Who would show up this early on a Saturday?  It couldn't be good news.  A tall, bald, and beefy-looking constable stood in the doorway, specifically asking for me by name.  A scary-looking eviction notice, listing a court date of Tuesday, February 9th was handed to me--and I was required to sign paperwork confirming that I received it.  That it was delivered by an imposing-looking armed and uniformed law enforcement officer made the whole eviction notice serving process even more intimidating.

What kind of wife and mother was I?  There were our kids--in the doorway--jockeying to see who had knocked and was visiting.  Totally excited, the kids poked their heads out, offering friendly greetings, invitations to come inside, and enthusiastic waving.  Totally innocent and sweet.  And me.  What parent would allow themselves to sink this low--to the point of police showing up on a Saturday morning to inform us we were on the cusp of losing the only thing we had: our place of residence?  With no job and no car, we had nothing else.  All we had was our little, inadequate apartment...and here I was...in the process of losing even that.  I was responsible for pulling this last rug...the last piece of security we had, from beneath my innocent and trusting husband and children.  I was a horrible person.

I really did feel like the absolute worst person in the world.  There was a moment, as I walked in what felt like slow-motion towards our front door, that I wished I could disappear, as in "I-wish-I-was-dead."  The horror gripping me...starting in my gut, and working its way up my chest, over my racing heart, and hotly creeping up my neck and throat...made me feel faint.  My face must have been a deep shade of red from the combination of terror and shame.  How could I have let this happen?

After signing the eviction receipt documents, the officer tried to reduce the tension by offering some friendly reassurance, basically telling us not to worry. The court understood hardship, he offered.  "Nice folks like us" were usually given leniency and time to pay--in the event we made it to court, that is.  The constable went on: he knew the staff at our leasing office, and he stressed that they almost always worked things out with tenants who were struggling.  We were not alone, he empathized.  He had once been served an eviction notice himself, too. "Happens to the best of us."  Plus, he went on, we were fortunate that we had "quite a bit of time," (10 whole days) before we had to appear in court.  Surely we would come up with the rent money, or some other magical solution, by then!

Murphy's Law is practically synonymous with my existence.  I just about destroyed our lives when filing our taxes this year.  A day after hastily filing online with Turbo Tax, I realized with horror that I had mistakenly entered an incorrect account number for our return to be deposited into.  The account number I submitted was for an old checking account I had closed months ago.  I'd made this same error once before, ten years ago, in 2006 and, while our financial situation then was challenging (the delay in receiving our return at that time was a veritable disaster), it was nowhere near the white-knuckle crisis we were facing now.

I knew we were in big trouble.  In an effort to mitigate my idiotic error, I blew up the phone lines of Turbo Tax, my bank, and the IRS.  As I feared, Turbo Tax and the IRS had no way of correcting the account number error, so I spent several panicked and frantic days calling and e-mailing my bank to beg them to PLEASE not reject the deposit when it hit the wrong account, and to PLEASE find a way to bump the deposit over into my new account.

The bank's standard protocol is to reject and return all deposits that are sent to inactive or closed accounts.  If the bank followed their policy, our tax refund would be zapped back to the IRS, which could take up to two weeks.  Then it would take another six to eight weeks (an eternity) for the IRS to physically mail our tax return in the form of a paper check!  THAT would have been a total and complete disaster of epic proportions.  We could NOT afford to wait for our tax return under any circumstances.  After two days of phone calls to the bank and gut-wrenching suspense, we were finally told not to worry--that any deposits hitting the old account would automatically be transferred to the correct, new one.

Somewhat reassured, we checked the IRS's "Where's My Refund?" website religiously to find out when we could expect our return deposited.  Once the IRS had accepted our return, and approved the refund amount, we ultimately got the holy grail of answers: the IRS had scheduled our $7,200 refund to be deposited on February 3rd, hallelujah!

But, February 3rd came and went.

The money did not show up in the account.

Panic doesn't begin to describe the stark fear that struck me as February 3rd wore on and our checking account remained barren.

It took king-sized self-control to stop myself from obsessively logging in to my checking account every 15 minutes.  I tried to limit myself to logging in once an hour.  I was ashamed of my desperation and anxiety.  I was angry at myself for the account number error.  The IRS website showed that the deposit had been sent that day, but where was it?  Had my bank mistakenly returned it, even though they had assured me that it would be transfered from my old account to the new one?  I--of course--called my bank, and they couldn't tell me anything except that they would inform me the moment the deposit hit the account.  I paced, fretted, wrung my hands, bit my nails and generally lost my mind.

I told my husband that I felt like Clark Griswold in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation movie--expecting a monetary Christmas bonus to no avail...  My husband was amazingly calm about the whole situation, and I was envious I couldn't be as confident and cool as he was.  Considering the dumb account number error I made, he would have had every right to be disappointed and annoyed with me...but the man was nothing but gracious and loving.  He is the noblest person I know--and I know I don't deserve him.  Had the situation been reversed, and he had made the error...well...I am ashamed to say I would probably have been snippy about it.  Horrible person...me.  I tried everything to distract myself...nothing worked.  It was unmitigated torture...waiting and waiting.

Nothing, whatsoever, happened on February 3rd.  I fervently prayed that relief would come the following day.  After a near-sleepless and uncomfortable night of nervously tossing, turning, and repeatedly going outside to smoke, I was a wreck.  I should have waited until the sun was up, but I couldn't help myself.  I logged in to check our account a little after 3:30 a.m. on Thursday, February 4th.  What was in there?  STILL NOTHING.  The balance displayed hadn't changed.  It was maddeningly the same as it had been for the prior three weeks: $1.50.  Fresh hell.  Like some crazed, crack-addicted laboratory chicken, I pecked convulsively at the buttons on my laptop, as if trying to earn my next "hit."  I logged in and out, over and over, throughout the early morning hours, until it was time to get the kids up for school.  Nothing.  Nothing.  And more nothing.

I called the poor, beleaguered customer service people at my bank at 7:00 a.m.  By now, I was convinced they were getting completely sick of my sad, desperate phone calls.  And, again, they could tell me nothing, except that, "Seriously, ma'am, we will let you know immediately, the moment the deposit hits the account."  Hanging up, I wanted to burst into tears.  I was beyond emotionally and physically exhausted.  After seeing the kids off to school, I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror and felt disgusted at my inability to calm down and be patient.  There were big, dark circles under my glassy-looking eyes--and my eyelids were heavy.  I looked haggard.  After a shower, and a few useless sips of coffee, I got to the point where--unable to shut out the catastrophic thoughts invading my head--all I could do was crawl into bed.

Half-catatonic, I tried to think of strategies to avoid certain eviction from our apartment.  If we were forced to wait for a paper check in the mail, it would be way too late to rescue ourselves from being thrown out on the street.  And I was also sure we wouldn't be able to fund-raise in time (via friend-, neighbor- and family-begging) enough money to get us completely caught up on what we owed our rental office.  The very thought of undertaking such a Herculean and humiliating effort made me even more sick and miserable.  I laid curled up in bed, trying to appreciate the soft pillow beneath my head, the thick comforter enveloping me, and the heating pad warming me up.  Amazingly, somehow, I managed to quickly fall asleep.

Despite his kind optimism, I was not comforted, by Officer Friendly Constable Guy.  The majority of his words just fell flat to me.  The weekend could not have felt any longer.  After two agonizing days of uncertainty, I contacted the leasing office the minute they opened on Monday morning, and asked them if they would work with us (and drop the court date) if we got completely caught up on back and current rent and late fees by February 3rd, which was when the IRS was scheduled to deposit our return.  We were relieved when they accepted our request.  Now all we had to do was wait for the deposit to hit.

When I woke up around 11:30 a.m. on February 4th, I was disoriented and groggy.  I grabbed the laptop and logged in one more time.  The deposit had hit our account at 11:15 a.m.  Silent tears of sweet relief fell from my cheeks.  I dressed and raced out the door to take care of our obligations.  Our punishing grand total at the leasing office was not cheap, though.  Back rent, late fees, utilities and covering the month of February, in full, cost us $2,575.  Painfully expensive, but a relief, nonetheless.

Fortunately, we had enough money to also buy a used family van, in good condition.  The 2003 Honda Odyssey we found on Craigslist seats seven comfortably.  With only one previous (ultra-Christian, judging by the number of pro-life and "keep Christ in Christmas" bumper stickers plastered to the rear bumper) owner, it was well-maintained.  So we are caught up on rent, and we have wheels.  Two out of three essential goals have been met.  Now I am working on finding a job as soon as possible in order to maintain the basics before exhausting the meager remains of our survival cash.

Funnily enough, I had the idea to ask our leasing office if they needed any help.  Maybe I could land a full-time job with the property firm.  Maybe I could get a break, discount-wise, on the rent every month.  I would be able to walk to work (sparing us quite a bit of money in transportation costs, gas-wise, wear-and-tear-wise, and stress-wise), run to the apartment during working hours, have lunch at home, etc.  It's a long-shot in my mind, especially since I had just been served an eviction notice--and had only just gotten caught up.  I hoped that I wouldn't be laughed out of the leasing office, but I really had little to nothing to lose by asking.

I swallowed my pride, mustered all the chutzpah I could, took a deep breath, and walked my résumé in to the property manager's office.  She seemed impressed--and somewhat relieved--expressing to me that, yes, absolutely, they were in dire need of full-time help.  The position they had available, working the front office, doing administrative and receptionist work, paid $12.50 an hour, and needed to be filled as soon as possible.  Well, howdy-do!  The pay rate was low, but--hell!--I would have no transportation costs to worry about, nor would I have to budget for lunches away from home, etc.

The manager hand-delivered my resume to her director with the promise that I would hear back about the possibility of an interview this week.  I hope I didn't come across as over-eager or desperate, but I called to follow up this morning and was told "their system was down," (their computer system, I'm pretty sure) so they had not had time to schedule an interview.  They were in "crisis," "putting-out-fires" mode.  The manager let out an exasperated chuckle and exclaimed, "You see, we really DO need help!"  I know I'm probably over-analyzing things, but I hope this morning's response to my call wasn't a carefully-crafted, but diplomatic and gentle, brush-off.  I mean, I know their computer system frequently crashes.  There have been times, in the two years we have lived here, that the leasing office's system was down, actually rendering it impossible for them to process or accept rent payments...so, yeah...I'm probably over-thinking it.

We still need to get liability insurance coverage for the van, and an inspection, so we're driving it as little as possible, and still walking most of the time for small, convenience-store-type errands.  In years past, our tax returns were generally $2,000 - $3,500 more than what we received this year.  With the higher returns, we had more wiggle room, allowing us to pay six months to a year's worth of auto liability insurance, with a one-time lump sum in advance.  Overall, purchasing, and paying for, a policy all at once saves hundreds of dollars.  This year, because I worked fewer months than I had for the last nine years, our return reflected a lower amount.  Don't get me wrong.  We are grateful for every last penny of it!  It's just that we really don't have as much freedom this time around.  We have to judiciously watch and plan each investment in whatever it is (in this case, a car, and car insurance) we were deprived of throughout the majority of the year.  We also need to get caught up on our electric bill, our phone and Internet service, our washer and dryer lease, etc.

Another priority we took care of right away was getting urgently-needed school uniform replacements for our Kindergartener and second-grader.  We also purchased badly-needed shoes, socks, and underwear for the three little ones.  All four kids got hair cuts right away, too.  So sad that these things are more or less luxuries we otherwise can't afford throughout the year.  We always count the months, weeks, days and hours approaching tax return time...our annual relief from utter destitution and scrambling to make ends meet.

Our standards, I think, are pretty high.  Some may think that we could have gone another good six months without replacing the kids' clothes, etc.  It's not as if their shoes and clothes were rags--it's just that we were beginning to notice that pants were getting a little too tight and/or short on the kids...hell, they're growing fast!  So, we were ready to take care of getting them properly fitting outfits...at least for school, that is.  We still need to get them some additional things, like new pajamas, and belts for new pants they haven't quite grown into.  We also want to get our five year-old a new twin size mattress for his bottom bunk.  Until recently, he'd been having night time accidents on and off.  We diligently washed and scrubbed all bedding, linens and the mattress with each accident...but, after a while, even Febreeze and disinfectants only mask the lingering, faint odor.  Some of these needs will have to wait until I'm gainfully re-employed.

Now that we have an adequate mode of transportation (and thank God, too, for reasonably low gas prices), I am in business as far as getting to any interview appointments, and can easily commute to any place of employment.  My hope is, however, that this leasing office administrative job pans out.  It would just be ideal.  The lack of good pay is easily made up for with the advantages of not having to drive anywhere for work, any employee rental discount, and being available to handle home-related emergencies on the spot.

At the $12.50 an hour rate, we will all probably continue to qualify for Medicaid and/or CHIP, WIC benefits, and food stamps (which--let me tell you--saves our lives financially, like you wouldn't believe)!  We don't enjoy needing the benefit assistance, but unless I land a job that literally pays $55,000 - $60,000 a year, it would be nearly impossible to break free of needing assistance with a family our size.  We look forward to the day that we can be completely independent of the help we're getting.  I hate thinking we'll never get there.

This concludes this unnecessarily long-winded blog.  We're just glad we were able go catch a brief economic breath.  I hope that when I blog next, it will be to happily announce I found a job.  Wish me luck, please!

Have a great week, and thank you for reading my convoluted blog!

Reality Bites: Pain at the Micro and Macro Levels

We continue to glide on fumes here at the Shirar-Denning household.  With no fresh sources of income in sight soon--save a possible tax return--we've been relying heavily on the generosity of family, friends and neighbors to manage.  It's been taxing, to say the least.  The stress has been unrelenting, but so has our gratitude.  I can't wait to find work.  While I've enjoyed being home with the family these last few months, the cloud of uncertainty hanging over how we will stave off utility cut-offs and eviction has taken its toll.  It's hard to get out of bed in the morning.  Very, soul-crushingly hard.

Been saying an awful lot of "Hail Mary's" while waiting for all the paperwork we need to electronically file our taxes.  Embarrassingly, checking our mailbox has become the highlight of the day.  (*Sad sigh and LOL...*)  If and when we do see a return, we will immediately be "investing" in a used car.  Finally.  After four months of vehicleless-ness, you have to know it will be a massive relief!  Once we have transportation nailed down, finding decent employment won't be as huge of a hurdle.  Finding work has been a lesser challenge than trying to find a way to GET to employment.  Getting to interviews, job fairs and the like has been an uphill battle of epic proportions.  This is to say nothing of all the other things we desperately need a car for (kid's doctor's appointments, grocery runs, school-related activities, etc.)  I think you get the gist: having a big family with no car (and crappy public transportation access to boot) sucks.

Meanwhile, I can't help noticing it's not just us, of course.  It seems the economy at large is suffering and sputtering uncomfortably as well.  There's just so much bad-sounding news out there: large oil and gas companies going bankrupt by the dozens, oil predicted to plummet to below $30 a barrel, man-made disasters abound (i.e., the huge SoCal methane leak in California), the stock market plunging, climate change-fueled weather disasters mounting, war-driven refugee and immigration crises worsening, news of near-term human (not to mention insane numbers of other species') extinction going mainstream, mass shootings, and on and on...

It's a lot to swallow.  I was caught off-guard when, before school this morning, my seven year-old daughter asked me, specifically, on her own, about near-term human extinction.  It's not something I discuss openly...not even with my husband, let alone the kids.  She's my little science "nerd," though, and she voraciously plows through all things science like a little tornado.  Very proud of her!  She's fascinated by shows like Cosmos, old Bill Nye programs, and watches VSauce like there's no tomorrow.  Apparently she saw a video story regarding this heavy topic on YouTube last night.

I explained as matter-of-factly as I could to her that it's difficult to predict exactly what our future is going to look like, but signs point to most people having to do a lot more with much, much less as time goes on.  I asked her if this worried her, and she said she wasn't worried at all.  She quickly processed my attempt at a reasonable response and Spock-ishly replied, "Well, that's logical," and hurriedly launched into the subject to an upcoming field trip--making me chuckle somewhat.  How is my seven year-old finding YouTube videos like that?  I'm telling you, my little girl is a brain!

Fortunately, it's not ALL one big gloom 'n doom downer around here.  Light pierces what feels like an endless dark landscape here and there.  I am grateful when the daily slog is punctuated by amazingness.  For example, I mentioned in my previous post that my neighbor went into labor on new year's day.  She delivered a beautiful, healthy, nine pound, nine ounce baby boy.  Big fella!  Mom and baby came home a couple days later, and I had the pleasure of getting to spend some time with them--holding the baby for a couple hours!  I could cuddle babies all day...so deeply satisfying...sharing in the love.  Oh, and a few hours ago, another set of neighbors welcomed an adorable litter of puppies.  I was invited to be present for it, which was as fascinating as it was beautiful.

Other measures to combat heaviness we take upon ourselves.  When I'm desperate, and have a few minutes to spare, Cracked.com is a good distraction and even gets me to laugh.  Playing light-hearted comedy films and playing music helps.  We enjoy making short videos of the kids dancing around to stuff like "What Does the Fox Say?", "Whip, Nae Nae," and "Gangnam Style"...so cute!  It buys, at least me, some temporary respite from the constant angst of not knowing how we'll make ends meet.  Or from the panic that sets in when I don't know where I'll get the energy and motivation to tackle even some of the smallest things.  When things feel down, the kids always do or say something to get me smiling and laughing.  Writing here seems to help, too, of course.

In the background, though, reality can really bite hard.  But it seems like it's not just me.  It seems like it's just everywhere, the uncertainty and sense of impending not-so-greatness.  I marvel at those with bigger challenges than ours and marvel (sometimes with a hint of envy) how others cope.  I can only hope there's a light at the end of the gloomy tunnel it feels like we're in.  One that includes peace and stability for the world as a whole, and at our individual family levels.

Thanks for visiting and reading.  Not my finest writing--just some random thoughts on my take of the current view of things...!  Anyone else have stories/coping strategies that inspire out there?

May your week go well!

Happy New Year...?

Happy 2016, I suppose...

Most of the headlines on the news sites I torture myself reading (see links to the left) portend that 2016 will be yet another "Year of Suck," with a capital "S," to the bajillionth power.  You may ask if I enjoy inflicting psychological pain on myself--and why don't I find more positive stuff to expose myself to?

It just doesn't work that way.  Not for me, anyway.  There's a great book from 2009 by Barbara Ehrenreich called Bright-Sided.  If you get the time or inclination to check it out, it spells out perfectly my entire attitude towards those in the whole "think positive" camp.  It's kind of like The Matrix.  Once you've swallowed the red pill, you can't really "un-know" there's a load of impending or current "suck-dom" out there.

Anyway, yeah.  It's been a bizarre last couple weeks to say the least.  Our apartment was overrun last week.  My neighbor, overdue in her pregnancy, went into labor on new year's day.  While at the hospital, her five and eight year-old sons spent the day in our cramped quarters happily destroying Christmas toys with our seven, five and two year old.

In the midst of the mayhem, a teenage family friend randomly dropped by to visit and "help" (play loud video games).  He pretty much ate everything in the house that wasn't frozen or nailed down.  At least he distracted the kids from their gleeful orgy of destruction for a few minutes here and there.

During all this, our downstairs neighbors--a young couple and their two large dogs--burst hysterically into our apartment.  "Oh my God, our apartment is flooding with sewage again!"  The more the merrier...come on in!

While frantically leaving voice mails for the (closed) leasing office and waiting for emergency maintenance to show up (several hours), Sewage Trauma Neighbors brought up the pots and pans they'd been cooking lunch in before being rudely interrupted by crap exploding from their walls. Oh, and dog food and water bowls that our two year-old found absolutely amazing.  In the tornadic chaos, Video Game "Helper" Dude didn't mind if he did help himself to a good portion of Sewage Trauma Neighbors' lunch, either.

As the exhausting afternoon blurred into an evening haze of refereeing kid's arguments ("He mashed his yellow Play-Doh into my Iron Man transformer, and now Iron Man won't make 'swoosh' sounds anymooooore!!!"), mopping up kid messes, fixing busted toys, scrubbing dog food off the walls, listening to Sewage Trauma Neighbors' tales of woe, and politely dodging the slobbery affections of their hyper-friendly dogs, there came a knock at the door...

Why, it was the semi-homeless friend of Giving Birth Neighbors--you know, the neighbors not home because they were at the hospital having a baby?  Giving Birth Neighbors weren't home...because they were having a baby.  Did I mention Giving Birth Neighbors weren't home?  Semi-Homeless Dude was at a loss.  Reeking of stale weed, Semi-Homless Dude had no couch to surf on while Giving Birth Neighbors weren't home--so could he maybe, like, crash in our spare room for a while?  I mean, like, just 'til Giving Birth Neighbors got back, or something.  Was that okay?

Well, why the hell not?  Oh, and was Semi-Homeless Dude hungry, or anything?  Because we had a couple frozen fish sticks left in the bottom of the freezer that Video Game "Helper" Dude left untouched.  Come on in!  Good thing Semi-Homeless Dude showed up when he did, too, because he discovered our hallway bathroom toilet was all clogged up, man!  Could it be, like, plunged, or something...? 

The mention of a clogged can, however, wound up being a PTSD trigger for Sewage Trauma Neighbors--because they immediately launched into a rant worthy of Hitler on crack.  We all needed to band together and sue the apartment complex, Sewage Trauma Neighbors insisted, because faulty, neglected plumbing, goddammit!!

Reeling, in the back of my mind, that old Elvis song, "In the Ghetto," played over and over and over...

Happy New Year, indeed.

Tired...

Just ultra-low on energy and motivation.  Hardly able to eat.  Kids are doing all right, despite being cooped-up indoors since Christmas due to the stormy and icy weather.  It's times like these that I don't know where I'm going to get the strength to go on.  I've prayed and we've been prayed for non-stop, but I'm so tired.  Just so damn down and tired.

Got dressed nicely, put on make-up and did my hair, but I still feel like a zombie.  Maybe I've been reading too much depressing stuff lately...LOL...but I actually don't need to read anything to make me feel less secure about how we're going to get by from one day to the next.  Reality is enough.

Anyway, that's all I've got the energy to blurt out today.  Sorry it's a downer.

Signing off...

--Cindy

An Early Appeal...

I'm not very good at asking for help.  It's something I've learned to swallow my pride and do, though.  I'm taking a deep breath and trying--here goes:  

This blog is only a couple days old, but I'd like to make an early appeal for support.  At the top of the blog page, there is a "Donate" button and, if you feel -- at some point, now or in the future  -- this blog is worth it...I would be grateful for any assistance.  In the meantime, thank you for viewing this blog and considering this request. 

You have no idea how much it would mean to my family, your help!

With Deepest Gratitude,

--Cindy

Ho Ho...Oh, No...

Now the anxiety and dread sets in.  We made it through Christmas, but the guilt grinding at me for not making all the "Merry Christmas" phone calls I should have just adds to the overwhelming sting of everything.

The three little ones seem satisfied with their Christmas haul, although there were one or two complaints that Santa forgot a couple "essentials," (i.e., Lego Dimensions for the WiiU, etc.)  I don't even know what that game is, nor did we have the money for it, that's for sure...

And now the bills will be coming due.  Oh, not the bills for Christmas gifts and festivities.  (We carefully managed getting those somehow with cash.)  We're talking the basics: The rent, the electric bill, the phone/internet bill, etc. are coming up, and we haven't got a clue where we're going to get the clams to cover them.  Talk about the art of fingernail-clinging.

I have one weeks' worth of unemployment left...about $272 coming next week, and then...that's it.  We're hosed.  No car, no job, no money.  Thank God for food stamps.  That's about all we've got.  And kind friends and family...and, of course, my never-ending hustling for some kind of work.  Counting the minutes until tax time, when there's the possibility we may see a return.  But even that's no guarantee.  We've learned not to count on anything being "guaranteed."  I guess that's kind of a good thing.

When I lived in Europe, parents received a monthly stipend for taking care of their children, whether or not they worked.  I wish we had something similar here in the States.  Some might argue that the combined Earned Income Tax Credit and Child Tax Credits could be considered the same thing.  But here it only comes once a year, and--again--there's no guarantee.

If a return does come in, we wind up getting caught up on utilities and buying all the desperately-needed things the kids need: shoes, clothes, haircuts, etc.  And then there are the car repairs...that is, when we have a car.  I guess, right now, car expenses are something that aren't weighing on us--but I have to tell you--living in Texas without a car is torturous...especially during the relentlessly hot summer.  Have you ever balanced a cart-load of groceries, Third World-style, on your back, on a bike?  Yeah, humiliating and excruciatingly painful doesn't begin to describe it.

Anyway, there's a lot more for me to uselessly complain about, so stay tuned, folks!  If nothing else, I'm enjoying--so far--my online pity/complaint/anger-blowing-off.  Maybe I'll bore myself with some politically-related bloviating in my next post.  Feel free to comment, judge, counter-complain, tell me to count my blessings, etc.

Thank you for checking in... Happy (almost) New Year!

Well, Here We Go!

Starting my first blog today...

For the most part, I'll be sharing observations and experiences that relate to humanity's utter insanity.  Pretty broad subject.  None of us will get bored, I hope.  Oh, and as a member of "humanity," you can expect bursts of insanity coming from my direction, too...having been driven there on a quite-frequent basis.  

Trying to eke out and maintain a survivable existence for myself and my growing family in the late, and declining, "Empire of Chaos," i.e., the United States, has  proven a daunting exercise in utter lunacy, chaos, unpredictability and--yes--horror/terror.

Welcome aboard!

Please feel free to ask questions, or suggest blog topics for me to comment on.  Will be thinking of what topic my first blog post topic(s) might be over the next couple days.  No promises, but I would like to post something at least once a week, or more, if possible.

Oh, I will also post a list of links I visit on a regular basis, which might give you an idea where I'm coming from, and how I became the warped freak that I am!

My e-mail address is keltcindy@yahoo.com.

Thank you for visiting.

Merry Christmas...Happy Holidays...etc.

--Cindy