He's Only Just Begun

I am watching my six year old nephew a few afternoons this week. We didn't have school Monday. Why? Because he changed all the passwords on his parent's computer, locking them out. 

It was an accident, of course, as he was just trying to make sure it was HIS name not his DADDY'S name that came up on the screen for all of his friends to see.

I am sure there are those (like his parents) who found the entire ordeal frustrating. I, on the other hand, was so stink'n proud of this little guy for being that clever.

The Golden Ticket

I was totally ok with this pandemic-thingy until about a week ago. Then, Marty got his third company e-mail saying lots of flowery words about "voluntary employment" and "righting the ship" and other stupid phrases which mean, "layoff." And to top it off, the "golden ticket," e-mail, as some snarky executive referred to it, would be in select employee's e-mail inboxes on April 27.

We have been through this before. In 2009 Marty WAS laid-off and we were a few weeks from living in Seattle when one of the local managers got wind and offered him a position. Plus, every few years there is the whole layoff scare and he cleverly finds ways to be extra-useful. This time is no exception. However, that didn't stop the Golden Ticket from ending up in Marty's inbox.

Now then, here is how the company is playing their "voluntary" layoff game.

An employee with the Golden Ticket has the right to take the layoff package, take the severance and go on with their lives.

OR:

An employee with the Golden Ticket has the right to ignore the voluntary layoff package, not take the severance, go on with their lives, and hope that enough folks did take the package. Therefore, one who doesn't take the severance package might just keep their job until the next layoff. However--there's a catch--if enough people didn't willingly leave, those with the Golden Tickets who stayed are then on the Brass Ticket list and can summarily be escorted out the door without a severance. Essentially, they had their voluntary chance to leave, so bye.

There are a lot of circumstances and options to factor into Marty's decision of whether or not to leave or roll the dice and stay. Marty will make a decision this weekend. At this point, I am ok with whatever he decides.

The Quality of Mercy

Just a Word About Dee and Her Merry Felons:

Please understand, I don't agree with what Dee's Merry Felons did to get them where they are. I have never personally asked the ones I have known what they have done--though some have voluntarily given me a snapshot. It isn't pretty. 

Dee's program is discriminate. She doesn't take everyone who applies to be part of her Merry Felon Gang. But the ones who she does take in have to pass a vigorous screening. I know for a fact, I would never take on the kind of ministry Dee has. Never. Kudos for Dee for this calling. She may have saved more souls than she knows.

Incidentally, all of the Felons Dee hangs with have a positive attitude. They are kind and humble--at least around me. They say and do what is expected to better their lives. Isn't that what we all should be doing? Nothing in their behavior suggests they would make the same choices again. But I have to tell you, all of them I have met--no exception--have been a lot nicer to me than many of the law-abiding folks I have helped in the past 17 years buy and sell a house.

The quality of mercy is not strained.

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.

'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes

The thronèd monarch better than his crown.

His scepter shows the force of temporal power,

The attribute to awe and majesty

Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;

But mercy is above this sceptered sway.

It is enthronèd in the hearts of kings;

It is an attribute to God Himself;

And earthly power doth then show likest God's

When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,

Though justice be thy plea, consider this:

That in the course of justice none of us

Should see salvation. We do pray for mercy,

And that same prayer doth teach us all to render

The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much

To mitigate the justice of thy plea,

Which, if thou follow, this strict court of Venice

Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant

there.

— Portia, The Merchant of Venice 

Dee's Home Inspection

Saturday afternoon, Dee had her home inspection. Now, I should preface with the following: when one has a home inspection, one generally hires a home inspector who goes through the house with a fine tooth comb and then gives a report to the home buyer. The process generally takes about four hours.

Or, you could be Dee, who has lots of friends who learned the trades while locked up for years and let them emerge on the property all at once.

Anyway, I arrived at 3:45 to a mass trespassing. Dee and--I am not making this up--15 felons (along with Mr. Dee) were in the back yard, waiting for me to arrive. When I opened the sliding glass door, I got a "HI!" from all 17 and then, Dee stood in front of them and exclaimed, "Go inspect." At this point, like curious kittens the Felons scattered to various corners of the house.

At some point, Ari walked over and said hello (he's one of my favorites) and then turned to Dee to let her know the wiring was all good to go. In fact, there were extra spaces left in the electrical panel in case a welder and a hot tub were to be eventually added. Kevin let us know the cabinetry was high-end (he works for a cabinet shop). The one trained in plumbing and HVAC gave his opinion. Someone went into the attic too--though there was no ladder--and puttered around looking at the level of insulation. And there were 11 others milling around, reporting to Dee their opinion.

Honestly, it was like a big party. The energy was high. There was a lot of laughing. Everyone was positive and super kind. At some point, I looked around and wondered if someone had suggested I would ever end up on 19th Avenue and Buckeye, standing in a home with 15 high-level Felons who at one time committed some heinous crimes, laughing hysterically at corny jokes would I have believed them.

The Felons gave the home a clean bill of health with only minor issues. We were done in an hour. But I smiled for the rest of the day.

Pandemic Adventures

Dee got her charming little home in a questionable neighborhood. She didn't get it for the low-low price she was hoping for. But, it was less than asking price. There really will be a 45 day escrow. I talked to other lenders. Long escrows are the new normal.

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Yesterday, my nephew regaled me with a center of gravity discussion. I have no idea if he was wrong. I'd never met a six year old who talked about the center of gravity with such enthusiasm before. Also, he watched vacuum cleaner videos. Did I mention he has been banned from taking apart vacuums at his home, his grandmother's home, his grandfather's home and my home? What he really wanted to do was "play" on Amazon--kind of like my generation "played" with the JC Penny catalog, I suppose. But I thought that might be slightly dangerous to his parent's bank account. Additionally, he tweaked his catapult so that he could hit targets of different sizes and shapes. We painstakingly practiced this for more than two hours. I have a few shifts next week with this adorable kid. I'm totally looking forward to it.

____________________________

And finally, I am two months into a six month listing with my seller. It still isn't on the market. It hurts my head.

The Nephew

My brother and his family live 50 miles away. He and his wife had a late-in-life baby who is now six years old. However, my brother and his wife have jobs, mortgages and other obligations that require them to work.

After a month of me darn-near begging, my brother got a brilliant idea: how about letting Auntie come on over and hang out with her fabulous nephew. I couldn't agree more!

So, this week I got to hang out with Nephew. I suspect it will be a regular thing for a while.

I should preface the rest of this post with the following: On the second week of first grade, Nephew, in front of his entire class, praised his teacher for her proper use of the word "combustible." Apparently, there are those who don't use this word correctly. Who knew?

Tuesday I was regaled with a very long dissertation of how manual transmissions work.

We also spent--and I am not making this up--about 4 of the 6 hours I was with him aiming his catapult (that he built) at plastic dinosaurs. He carefully aimed, measured the distance and angle finding the most efficient ways to pop an orange ball on the T-Rex and friends. FOUR HOURS. It was a blast. By the way, part of that time was taking said catapult and dinos to my father's house so that he could painstakingly show his latest invention to his Pop Pop.

In addition, there was a bit of school work done. But who cares about coloring a piece of paper when there are transmissions and weaponry about! I have been trying to explain to my brother: the boy isn't going to fail first grade if he doesn't complete a ridiculous amount of busywork every day that the school is piling on. In fact, it seems Nephew is way beyond needing the busywork. And please, just let him play.

Another Dee Story

I just wrote an offer for Dee's latest love: a 2020 new-build on 19th Avenue and Buckeye. The offer is  massively low (of course) and the lender tells me they can close in 45 days. FORTY-FIVE FREAKING DAYS! I am sure the seller will love those terms and conditions, if they bother to counter back at all.