Taken August 3, 2015 with
Samsung Galaxy S3
© Les Becker, 2015
I have a good routine going now. Four nights at The Big Box J.O.B. and two nights at the gasbar – finances are in order, pre-paid bank accounts are being built up, my garden is “gardening”, and my book is selling.
I feel like I’m in a safe little cocoon again – much like this little guy, who is hanging out in the door jamb of the gasbar.
Random Song-for-the-Day: “Fight Song” – Rachel Platten
"The Waitress, the Whiskey & the Handcuffs" is for sale in
digital and paper formats at
The Les Becker Bookshop.
House Debt is Paid!!
Remember THIS HORRIBLE POST?? Well, I did end up getting nailed for that house after foreclosure.
Today, I got a letter in the mail:
Please find enclosed CMHC’s Deficiency Release document in your name representing full and final satisfaction of your outstanding debt.
Please sign above your name on the attached Release document and keep the document for your file. We have advised the Sheriff’s Office and the Credit Bureaus to update their files with this information.
It took more time and money than I wanted to spend, but, now it’s finally all over with.
Now I be get drunk. 😀
Not-So-Random and Very Tongue-in-Cheek Song-for-the-Day: “Soon As I Get Paid” – Keb Mo
Taken November 10, 2007 with Canon PowerShot A550
It was a wicked week. Ups, downs, and a few upside-downs, to boot.
On the “up” side, the Lily-Dawg has her new home. As I write this, I imagine she is either paddling in the creek or lazing on/tearing through the back field of “her” farm, located down the line toward Teeny-Tiny Town…
It’s possible, too, that she’s slobbering into the wind with her head stuck out the passenger window of her new owner’s car. The new owner, you see, prefers dogs to people, and the older dogs are spoiled right rotten. Lily, at 10, is now the second of what The Dog Lady considers to be her “older kids”. And the “older kids” get the Extra Special Treatment, which includes rides in the car. Every time The Dog Lady gets into the car.
The Dog Lady came to my work to get her. Kyla tearfully brought Lily over, introduced her to her new Mom, and ran her through her groovy-cool set of “gimme the treat” tricks. The Dog Lady was especially tickled with Lily’s high-five. And then, she promptly renamed the dog “Lillers” and removed the leash, saying, “Now, let’s get rid of this nasty ol’ thing, eh?”, to which Lily Lillers readily agreed, very much approving of the disgust with which The Dog Lady threw the thing into the trunk – most likely never to be retrieved again.
When she went to let her into the back seat, though, the Other Older Kid told her to piss off. Lily Lillers was unperturbed, however, and simply called shotgun.
It was unbelievably excruciating to watch Ky wipe the tears away as best she could, and turn her back on the dog to walk away. Lily Lillers had a hard time at first, too, trying to scramble over The Dog Lady to get out the window and back to her kid. She settled down quite happily again, though, as soon as Ky disappeared around the building. That somehow made me feel worse.
And Sheikh the cat, who went from avoiding the dog to stalking the dog… to shooing the dog away from her own water dish so he could drink first… to doing this really hilarious “duck-down walk” while following the dog around very closely, making it necessary to continuously bob his head so as not to get hit with her tail… to sleeping beside the dog… is moping around, demanding to know where his dog is…
I kind of miss her myself. All her F-ing hair is still here, however, so I expect I’ll get over that.
Meantime, I’ll just keep picturing Lillers The Lily-Dawg slobbering into the wind with her “laughy-face” on….
* * *
One of the “downs” of the past week was the mysteriousness going on at the J.O.B…. what with secret meetings, and the near-completion of several construction projects, and confusing replies to the “what’s going on?” questions… which all ended up being boiled down to most of the staff being laid off in a couple of weeks’ time, when a form of automation process kicks in… no more dancing in the parking lot. Sigh…* Those remaining will be trapped (trapped, I say!) behind glass.
No one’s saying yet, who’s staying vs. who’s going, but some have already put their notice in (thankfully for me, because the fewer there are when the axe falls, the better my chances of avoiding it, I think).
I’ve continued to apply for jobs in my New Weird Field as they come up over the last eight months, but generally don’t even get an interview. There are too many people in administration et al, who have been laid off, but at least have actual working experience, applying for the same jobs, I think. When I do land an interview, it invariably goes very well, but again…. I have no “real” experience in any of the fields I have accreditation in.
So, I’ve begun to apply for other “crap pay” jobs. And I’ll be crying on Louie’s shoulder over it all, mooching for more hours, just as soon as…
As soon as…
As soon as…
(Yeah, this is a hard one… the “upside-down” part…)
Just as soon as I go talk to the mortgage holder of the house that’s not supposed to be mine, because my “legal” papers, once translated to plain english only stipulate that The Sire agrees not to try and get money out of me for the place.
Worse, the mortgage holder is a credit union; the only type of banking institution that can legally suck my wages away whether I can afford it or not. Which I can not.
My new lawyer told me, “Now, when you go down there, and they ask you for your work number, for God’s sake don’t give it to them! Hopefully, they won’t find out where you work until you can get the place cleaned up enough to live in. It doesn’t look like you can afford both places…”
When I morosely pointed out that in a couple of weeks, I may not have a work number to not give to them, he jumped on it, very pleased, apparently.
“Good! You won’t be lying when you tell them that you’re looking for employment. With luck, they won’t foreclose before you can get things straightened out.”
I asked him if there was any way at all out of this, other than taking over the house….
“Weeeeellllll….. you could do what The Sire’s doing, and just ignore it altogether – they may not look for you if they can find him…. but when they foreclose, it will affect your credit something awful.”
“So, that’s a ‘no’, then, huh…?”
“You could claim bankruptcy…”
And that’s a ‘no’, folks. Not doing that. Nope.
And worse…. if all goes well, and I take over the payments, get caught up on the defaulted payments and overdue taxes and insurance, and then sink a shitload (more likely two shitloads. Three even.) of money into fixing the place up to sell, I can’t sell it unless The Sire signs off, or I can get a court-order.
And worser, even…. if I do all of that successfully (read: when pigs fly and other miracles), he could legally walk right back in and take the house out from under me, simply by beginning to make the payments himself, again. I don’t think he’d do that; I really don’t – but the thought that he could…
You see, the part in my “legal” papers that states that I give up all rights to the house, its contents, and any or all income or profit from its sale, is already in plain english and means sort of, almost, not-quite-exactly that. The house is “ours”. Or the house is “his”. It ain’t never “mine”, even if I get stuck paying for it. The only way around that is another court-order.
And, hopefully, that will be the silver lining I’m looking for… followed shortly thereafter by the sale of the F-ing money pit.
Random Song-for-the-Day: “Rock and Roll Song” – Valdy
Taken March 14, 2009 with Canon PowerShot A550
Now, don’t get all excited by the “Ta-DA”; I don’t have much in the way of “lawyer” news, yet. I have to admit, though, that I’m sick and tired of being pissed off, already.
And I feel guilty about dissing The Sire on my very public blog, even if he (sorta) does deserve it.
And he does deserve it. Sorta.
I wanted to not be pissed anymore, and now I’m not. I’m busy setting things straight, and that’s helped. It’s long past due.
I want to get back to my plans, and I can’t do that until this mess is fixed.
And, dammit, I want a new camera.
Don’t get me wrong – I still love Hilary Federwhore. She is the bomb. The Evil Hypnotist is a video-making addict, though, and I can never find Hilary when I really want/need her.
And if, by some miracle, I do find her, the batteries are generally dead. It’s time for Camera #2 (I’m going to leave the little HP I drowned with an extra large Tim’s® out of the count – it’s no doubt been recycled into… whatever drowned cameras get recycled into, by now), whatever its name will be .
Hil’s been good to me. That shot up at the top there is a good case in point. If you click it and then zoom the photo, the clarity is pretty damned good for what I paid for it. You can even see the aphids crawling on the fronds…
I don’t know anything about which camera has what features now that I don’t sell cameras anymore. Nor do I have time to stand in Louie’s store and play with them all.
But, guess what I found, Betches ‘n Shetbags?!
I found this place! I want you all to go and find your dream camera and report back to me. Go, go, go! Or, better yet, read the rest of the post, then go, and pick me up my fave. 😀
Okay, I’m kidding – but only a little…
I know what I want in a camera, as far as features go. And, much as I want to stay true to Canon, considering Hilary just won’t drown, no matter what I pour on her, or set her down in (even an extra large Tim’s®), scrolling and searching through the Canon website – the Canuckian version, anyway – is tedious and time-consuming.
And I don’t know if I want to starve trying to pay for an DSLR, or if I want to “settle” for another point-and-shoot, which I can at least afford, lawyer bills and all…
Best In Class (and yeah, it’s a free service) found MY new camera for me with a few clicks. And it is a Canon.
So, if my legal battle is won (errr… what I call “won” – ahem…*), I’m celebrating with a new camera. If I lose… well, I’m buying it anyway.
It’ll make me feel better.
Until I have to hawk it to pay the lawyer.
Random Song-for-the-Day: “Big Yellow Taxi” – Joni Mitchell
Taken February 16, 2009 with Canon PowerShot A550
Well, this is a weird space I’m in… I feel like I’ve been through a cheese grater, hence the pic above, which is not a cheese grater, but it’s the closest I could come up with, without getting the camera out. Not to mention, finding a cheese grater.
The house that isn’t mine is about to go into foreclosure.
I’m working on “lawyering up”, but it’s a slow go. I’m trying to find one that deals specifically with real estate, but so far, none of those seems to be able to fit me in for months and I’m afraid to do anything without legal advice.
I don’t know yet if I can sell this house without The Sire’s cooperation or not (I’m thinking it’s “not”, though…), but that’s what I’m trying for, right now. I have two interested parties, and a lot of hope.
This would go much faster if my work schedule would cooperate. I’m back on nights again for the next few shifts, and that makes it difficult to be awake during “lawyer’s hours”. Most of my calls end with me waiting to hear back from people with answers to my questions, and there haven’t been many answers so far.
Ky’s depressed about the whole thing – won’t go to school, can’t sleep, barely eats. Not a lot of singing going on in the shower lately…
One way or another, this will all work out. I’ve got my fingers crossed that at I don’t end up bankrupt when it does.
My heart hurts.
Not-So-Random-and-a-Little-Bit-Heartbreaking Song-for-the-Day: “Our House” – Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young
Birds on a Wire
Taken March 15, 2009 with Canon PowerShot A550
In the movie, “Blow”, George’s dad tells him that money isn’t real. “It doesn’t matter, Georgie…”
My dad would have disagreed with that one. I sure as hell disagree with that one.
I am about to embark on a legal battle of epic proportions.
Well… Epic for me. The Sire has gone AWOL.
That still doesn’t change the house situation, though.
This should not be affecting me. I have a very legalish sheaf of very legalish-sized paper that says I don’t own that house. If he were to sell it, I could not demand a cent from the sale.
But (Ain’t there just always a “but”?!).
Six years ago, the house was supposed to be refinanced and my name removed from both deed and mortgage. It was not.
Every now and again over the years, I have “reminded” The Sire of his legal obligations. He has always promised to “get right on that”. And then did not.
There are a couple of “should haves” that I “should have” taken care of between now and then…
I should have legally forced him to refinance the place the first time he kakked on doing so.
Better yet, I should have told him to kiss my ass when he asked to keep the house, and forced a sale. I gave him my half of that house. How stupid is that?!
Life got in the way, though, and I have a tendency to take the easy way out.
But now… my name is still on that mortgage.
The mortgage rep. tells me I am legally responsible for half of the mortgage left owing, never mind my legalish sheaf of paper. Yet (and this is insane), in the same breath, the same mortgage rep. tells me I don’t have a legal right to know what’s left owing on the mortgage, because my legalish sheaf of paper gives me no rights to the house.
That particular bright bunny argument, I hope to win with the next phone call. I had that argument with them a while back and won it with a few choice words.
In truth, however, if The Sire really has walked away, the bank will come after me for the whole amount owing. They are not going to piss around going after him, if he pulls a disappearing act, when they already know where *I* am.
I will find him, though…
But this is where it really gets dicey…
I’m really worried about what all of this is doing/going to do to our daughter, which is the biggest of the reasons why I haven’t done what I should have done a long time ago.
But (Again with the “but”! Apparently, I have a but fetish.) I can’t live like this any longer. I have plans, dammit, and those plans do not include bankruptcy over a house that I no longer own, don’t want, and won’t shoulder.
“Money isn’t real.” Let’s find out, finally, shall we?
Random Song-for-the-Day: “Yours Truly Confused” – Ray Davies