Coffee heat rising

One Down, a Million More to Go…

Last night we had the final exam for the real estate course. I felt like I was walking into the Jaws of Doom, so convinced was I that I was gonna bomb the thing. I was totally unprepared, and so exhausted I could hardly walk. The past 5 weeks have devolved into one time-consuming, headache-inducing screw-up, hassle, bugaboo and freaking catastrophe after another, and so I’ve had almost no time to study the content. I figured I was going to fail for sure.

Well.

When our Realtor friend said getting the license was “easy,” he wasn’t kidding. Of the 80 questions, I’d be surprised if I missed 10. Most of them were factoid questions, and of those most were so intuitive you probably could answer a good 80% of them without ever reading the book. There were five or six math questions, which of course I’m incompetent to do. Of those, I know I got three correct; I made a good guess at one, leaving two almost certainly wrong. So: two or three of the math questions wrong. Three or four of the factoid questions concerned material not covered in our textbook (the instructor draws on two texts for his questions)—had to make guesses on those. So I’m estimating I missed about six or seven questions.

To get 75%, you’d have to get twenty questions wrong! And…to get twenty of those see-Dick-run questions wrong, you’d have to be so far out in left field you’d qualify as mentally retarded.

All of which is neither here nor there, because on Tuesday, when he reminded us that because it’s a five-week course the final was scheduled for last night, not next week during the regular final exam period and I realized that on Wednesday I wouldn’t have a chance of finding time to review 14 chapters, I asked him what would happen if I failed this exam after having scored a 96 on the mid-term. And…brace yourself…at that point he said not to worry, everyone in the course would get an A or a B. No one would get less than a B in the course.

Heh.

Anyway. It is ridiculously easy. And it’s pretty interesting. You certainly learn a lot of things that you should have known before ever setting a pen to a purchase contract, a mortgage agreement, or an apartment lease.

Bitch of a week here. I told you we fired the client who converses with the dead, right? That leaves us without work, which has Tina agitated. Two incoming queries appeared today; one looking for someone to edit his thesis, another from some outfit trolling for slave labor. Last week of instruction—finals coming up next week. Students are also agitated, lobbying for hurried return of their gigantic final papers. Much nagging, whining, and nail-biting in those precincts.

This morning I’m going out to Tempe to drop by and sign some paperwork at the new insurance agent’s office. Thence to the credit union branch on the main campus. Then over to the GDU library to scour Literary Market Place for leads to publishing houses Tina and I can hit up for freelance work, and then it’s off to meet Tina for a nice lunch to celebrate the end of the semester and, more to the point, to calculate a strategy to bring in some more (and better) work. Back to the house to write up an exam for my own students and send that off to the copy center. Then have to translate their grades out of my spreadsheet into the hated Blackboard so they can view their final score, a process that takes about eight times as long as it should because it has to be done manually and because BB screws around with you as you enter Each. And. Every. Score.

So that will fill absorb every moment of productive time today, I expect.

Discovered a $1230 discrepancy in my checking account and can NOT find the error(s), so had to make a balance adjustment in that amount. Fortunately it’s in my favor; otherwise I’d have ended this month with about a $300 balance. But it looks like I’ll have to hire the accountant to untangle whatever mess I made there.

Noticed last night that the pool is busted again. Gotta get up from writing this post and go fix that, or else turn off the power and leave the thing to grow algae while I’m racing around the city today.

Had to buy a new toilet, the facility in the middle bathroom having given up the ghost. Actually, neither that one nor the one in the so-called master bathroom had a very strong grip on the ghost when I inherited them from Satan and Proserpine. I like this new one so much, I may have WonderPlumber come back after I recover from the summer’s penury and replace the one in the alleged master bathroom.

Told him about my idea to turn the fourth bedroom (now the unused TV room) into a luxurious spa, complete with vast bathtub and a walk-through into the closet-like master bathroom. He thought it was a great idea. Estimated it would cost around 10 grand.

Well…when I’m a rich old real estate agent, eh?

Another best-laid plan defunct

{sigh} So the scheme to do a little market research and then race out to Tempe to meet my business partner got derailed last night.

I was thinking the real estate course’s final exam took place next week, during finals week. No. It’s tomorrow!

Forgot that these five-week short courses do not have dedicated final exam periods. I assumed we would meet next Tuesday for the exam. And of course, since I was figuring I’d have Friday, Saturday, half of Sunday, and Monday to read the three chapters I haven’t looked at and to figure out the math procedures that went over my head, I am SO not prepared. Not only that, but I’m only about 3/4 of the way through the page proofs that are due tomorrow morning—had figured to spend late afternoon and evening finishing that, since I’ll hit the road at 6:45 tomorrow morning.

So had to cancel everything for today and dedicate the entire day to reading page proofs and trying to catch up with the course material that I fell behind on while dealing with the toxic client. Shee-ut! That was not what I had in mind.

Fortunately, I scored a 96 on the mid-term. Asked the instructor if I would get a “C” in the course if I fail the final, which I fully expect to do. Did I really need to ask? This is a junior college, after all… He said not to worry, everyone in the class would get an A or a B, and that the final would have no meaning.

Why are we doing this? Why…why…? Because we have to sit in a classroom for 90 hours before we’re allowed to take a certification exam that could easily be passed by simply reading a 26-chapter book, about 80 percent of which consists of common sense and about 20 percent of which contains career-specific information that really does need to be learned?

So I figure I can prioritize the page proofs. Get that done by noon, maybe sooner—about 11 would be good. Bolt down some cheese and crackers for lunch. Then move on to trying to learn something about real estate; work on that into the night, until I can’t hold my head up anymore.

You know…the crazed thing about “retirement” is that the number of hours in the day seems to shrink. You never seem to have enough time to get through all the stuff you need or want to do. Mostly “need.” Rarely “want,” in my case, given the joy and pleasure I take in teaching and in reading the ramblings of demented wannabe writers.

And—here’s the weird part—the phenomenon is not exclusive to neurotic little moi. Almost everyone I know who is retired or semiretired says exactly the same thing. Most of those people manage time a great deal better than I do. SDXB, for example—no one is better organized than that guy, and on top of that he’s a freaking rocketship. He does so many things, every day, day in and day out, and he gets them all done between around 5 in the morning and 9 at night, when he goes to bed. But for him everything is quite orderly (he has, yes, a military mind). His schedule is not gestalt, the way mine is: he gets one thing done at a time.

Other, more normal folks, whose inclinations lie more centrally on the spectrum between gestalt and pristinely organized, report that after they quit their jobs they never seem to have enough hours in the day to do all the things they need or want to do. Maybe it’s a function of age. Or maybe it has to do with making a shift between the regimentation of work life and the naturally gestalt structure of freedom.

Whatever. I need to get back to work just now. Bye!

Day at the Botanical Garden

The amazing Desert Botanical Garden, located in a small desert park on the south side of Scottsdale, is in full bloom at this time of year. Our friend KJG has a pass and invited me and mutual friend VickyC for a day in the garden. It is just gorgeous.

Check it out. I think if you click on these images, they should enlarge in all their glory. Click once on an image to isolate it from the gallery and then again for a larger, higher-resolution (ad-free!!) view. Then hit your browser’s back arrow twice to return to this page.

 

Cruising the Web for Fun and…Profit?

So…while contemplating the workings of flammable barbecues and commenting, yesterday, to the effect that it’s too bad propane grills aren’t built so the tank would be carried outside the unit rather than inside, underneath the burners, it occurred to me that maybe Weber actually makes such a contraption. Out of idle curiosity, I cruised on over to the Weber site.

No, Weber doesn’t seem to have hit on this peculiarly ingenious design. But what should we find, in fine print, at the bottom of the homepage but this link to a class action settlement.

Hot dang! Is it possible? Could it be that mine was not the first grill to flare up in the backyard? Dreams of dollar-shaped sugar-plums danced in my head!

Heh.

Possibly not.

Turns out some outfit sued Weber, claiming that because one of the company’s many lines is assembled in China, Weber broke the law by advertising its products as made in America. The fabulous wealth awarded to members of the class (which includes just about anyone who’s bought a Weber grill since 20-ought-seven) comes to $2, $5, or $9.

Hey. It’s enough for a MacDonald’s, eh?

It sounds like an extraordinarily stupid lawsuit, the sort of thing designed to enrich lawyers and greedy speculators (the plaintiff’s firm has asked for $995,500 in fees). And while it’s not nice to claim your products are made in America when one of them is made in China, whose workers take jobs from Americans and whose policies make it possible for American firms to sidestep safety, health care, and common decency, still… It rings of harassment.

Would you take $2 from this suit? $5? $9? What if the return were more substantial…say, the entire amount you paid for the grill? Here in Arizona, with its 9.3% sales tax, that would come to $436.11.

It’s the principle of the thing, you say…but what is the principle? Is it or is it not OK to lie to American consumers? Is it or is not OK to offshore our jobs and then sell us products at made-in-America prices?

Actually, two bucks would let me join the weekly pool at the Scottsdale Business Association twice in a row! A win will return $13.

Not a bad investment, as investments go.

😀

 

On the Fly Friday

Loved readers’ idea for post: lifetime best/worst financial decisions. Will work on that when a moment presents itself.

Just jetted in from estate sale, halfway to Yuma—had to be there at 6:45 ayem to get entry number. Worth the drive. Pix to come.

Now must spend the rest of the a.m. and afternoon studying real estate. Way behind. But cheered: got halfway through the take-home mid-term last night and was surprised to find the questions nowhere near as hard as expected.

Later!!

This, That, and the Other

Gotta hurry! Today I have to write chapter 2 of a client’s book, his check finally having arrived on the scene.

Up early and off to walk the dog by 5:30. Breakfast on the back porch, interrupted (as usual) by the roar of a flicking helicopter. This time it didn’t go away or hover over the war zone at 19th and Dunlap or park over the neighbor’s house, but kept buzzing back and forth, low to the ground. MedicEvac??? Get up to check.

It’s this splendid balloon floating past, accompanied by a copter buzzing like a turbocharged mosquito around it! What a hoot, eh?

Once I bought my ex- a balloon ride for his birthday. They invited me to climb into the basket, too. It was great fun. I think these things are the most hilarious and wonderful form of travel invented since the bay mare.

Tried to snap a photo of the balloon and the copter in formation, but by the time I got to the office, grabbed the camera, and ran back outside, they were too far away to get a really good shot. This was about the best I could do:

(Click on the images for larger, sharper versions.)

Working out of one’s home has a distinct disadvantage: when you’re in an office, you attend to office business all day. When you’re at home, you’re distracted by all the chores that need to be done. Sometimes I feel like I’ve been laboring like an animal and then at the end of the day feel like I’ve accomplished essentially nothing. Certainly nothing payable. Yesterday I decided to keep track of what the heck I do that kills so much of my time. And…no, it’s not like I’m doing nothing:

Walked dog
Fed dog
Fed me
Read New York Times
Watered roses
Set soaker hose
Watered a little on west side
Read Eng 235 paper
Updated Quickbooks (after a month-long lapse…)d
Transferred funds from PayPal to CED checking
Updated records on investments
Filed a mountain of paperwork
Hassled with AMEX over an incorrect debit
Bathed, washed & dried hair, painted face
Raced to campus
Wrestled with Registrar over incorrect withdrawal of 235 student
Hauled student’s paperwork all over campus
Met two classes
Updated students’ grades; reported to graders on student progress
Drove to credit union, deposited money
Stopped by Fry’s Electronics on way home; bought printer cartridge, notecards
Bolted down microwaved dinner
Checked e-mail; skimmed Google News
Cruised Zillow
Raced to campus, just made it to real estate class on time
Sat through class
Drove home
Consumed two Camparis on the rocks while watching old episodes of My Name Is Earl
Dropped into the sack around 11 p.m.
Attempted to read detective novel; fell asleep after about 15 words

So…today, damn it, I’ve GOT to get some work done!!!

And it must be admitted that work is the last  thing I want to do. The day is just gorgeous. It beckons: Come to me, come to meeeee….

Water bill is high, it develops, because the last big power outage somehow reset the watering system to come on every day instead of every other day. That plus the fact that I’ve decided to actually water the plants has revived the landscaping. Quite a few moribund plants have come back to life. I’d about given up this rose for dead, for example:

Those blossoms are more fuschia-colored than orange: early-morning light through mare’s tails. And here’s a little beauty from another rose that really suffered last summer. In January, I decided not to prune this bush because it was so exhausted—better, I figured, to just leave it alone for a year. What it needed was not pruning but water:

The bougainvillea’s gone insane this spring:

Isn’t this cute? It’s growing on a weed-like thing that sprouted from the shade-loving seeds I sowed in the backyard flowerbed last fall, none of which germinated until the days started to get longer few weeks ago.

No clue what the thing is. Then we have this…

…and this…

And these…

And this…

And these…

And Charlie contemplating the next spot to dig a nice hole…

Speaking of Charlie, he’ll be here soon. MUST get some work done before my son shows up with that dog!!!