{sigh} I give up worrying about this stuff. What’s the point? Trying to get abreast of the money thing is like trying to exceed the speed of light: it violates a law of physics.
The AC guy was here for the seasonal maintenance visit. He says the recent hailstorm trashed the coils on the aged Goettl HVAC unit on the roof. Goettl went out of the manufacturing business several years ago, and so the parts are no longer available. Therefore, says he, the unit will have to be replaced.
Cost? About $7,890.
Because the storm is regarded as a “natural disaster,” insurers are covering the damage without raising people’s rates (although you can be sure everyone in the state will see their premiums go up next year as a result of this). All very nice…except that by way of saving some cash on the already phenomenal homeowner’s insurance premiums, I raised my deductible to $2,000.
This statement the guy gave me shows the $1,500 tax credit the government supposedly will pony up and suggests the power company may or may not rebate $250. Presumably The Hartford will deduct those amounts from whatever they’ll pay toward this thing. So…that hailstorm is going to cost me a minimum of two grand.
And you know it’s not gunna stop there.
The AC guy thinks there’s no roof damage, but The Hartford is sending a claims adjuster over to examine not only the HVAC unit but also the roofing. The deductible, I’m told, will only apply once if I have to also make a claim for the roof.
Meanwhile, no one has looked at the downtown house, which also was hailed mightily upon and also has a high deductible.
So much for any silly ideas I had about catching up financially, having a little breathing space, being able to pay the underwater mortgage’s premiums with my teaching salary. Damn!
I’ll have to dig into the very savings that were going to be used to stock my bank account with enough each month to pay the day-to-day bills. The money from my next three months’ salary will have to go to make that up. And that will not leave enough to cover the cost of next year’s mortgage payments out of the remainder of what I will earn by teaching in 2011.
LOL! Is there any question why my belly hurts and my blood pressure is high?
As Veteran’s Day comes our way, time to honor and pray for our troops in the way of danger. Last term, one of my best students re-upped to serve in Afghanistan. Last I saw of him, he was headed out the door to catch a plane. If there’s a God, may She keep them safe.
And, lest you’re young enough to wonder if America ever was involved in a just war, take some time to read this.
Look what my friends in the choir gave me over the weekend!
(Click for an enlarged view)
My friends Joan and Lee offered me this beautiful purple bicycle, which happens to be exactly what I’ve been looking for and exactly what I can’t afford. These things cost something over $500 these days. They bought a pair of bikes about 16 or 18 years ago, because they were living in a nice house near the canal, which has been turned into a miles-long linear park with bike paths. They said they only used the bikes a half-dozen times or so, and then the things became garage sculptures.
Well! Can you imagine?
I took it over to my favorite bike shop, where they dusted it off and fitted it out with new tires, mega-puncture-proof innertubes, and a sort of bicycle Barcalounger for a seat. The bike guys much admired it. They were amazed that it was in such good condition. One of them said he used to sell that model, and that it looks brand-new.
Check out this little doodad I found:
It’s a little bell for binging at pedestrians so as not to catch them unawares when you come up behind them. Cool, eh?
I’ve been wanting a bike with gears for a long time, to make it possible to ride along the canal. The bike path goes under the roads, so that to get out from beneath the underpass you need at least three speeds. On my old beach cruiser, I have to get off and push the thing uphill out of the underpass, which isn’t much fun.
So! This will allow me to go for miles and miles. SDXB rides in from Glendale following the canal; it goes all the way through Scottsdale into Tempe.
Now I’ll be able to get the exercise that has been so direly lacking in my life the past few years. If there’s a blood pressure problem (it’s beginning to look less likely), a few hours of long-distance riding a week in addition to the daily dog-walking should take care of it. My friends may have given me more than a bicycle…they may be giving me several more years of healthy living!
Yesterday afternoon while I was driving around I happened to pass by Outrageously Pricey Gourmet Grocery Store and heard the siren song of the bakery department…
Apple pies are calling,
Come to me,
Come to meeeee….
Who could resist?
Well… Truth is, I’m not crazy about sicky-sweet foods, though I do like apple turnovers, especially when they’re made with puff pastry. Once in the store, I’m eyeballing the turnovers and thinking, “That sticky-looking white frosting gunk they’ve drizzled on there looks like it’s mostly sugar. Ick!”
Still wanted a pastry; just not that pastry. As I was about to leave unsatisfied, I recalled that I used to make my own apple turnovers with frozen puff pastry and fresh apples. And they were pretty darned good. So! It was straight to the frozen food department, thence to produce, and then out past the checkstand for only $7. A package of frozen puff pastry shells and a couple of gala apples and I had stuff for not one, not two, not three, but six turnovers, for the price of one and a cup of coffee!
You can use the frozen pastry sheets, too. If you’re only cooking for one or two, though, the inchoate shells are convenient, because they let you defrost only enough for one or two servings. They’re incredibly easy.
You need:
frozen pastry shells or sheets
an apple
a few pecans, walnuts, pistachios, or almonds
sprinkle of nutmet, cinnamon, or both
turbinado sugar
flour
Preheat the oven to about 400 or 425 degrees.
Defrost as much frozen pastry as you need. One pastry shell rolled thin will make one good-sized turnover. Flour a clean cutting board and rub some of flour on a rolling pin.
Set the pastry shell (or small piece of pastry sheet) onto the floured board and roll it flat and thin, rotating the pastry dough a couple of times in the process.
Seed and cut up the apple (peel it if these are for guests). Break or chop the nuts into small pieces. Set some sliced or chopped apple and nuts in the center of the rolled-out piece of pastry. Sprinkle on a little nutmeg or cinnamon—or both, if you like. Fold the pastry over the filling and seal it around the edges by pressing the tines of a fork around the outside edge. Poke a few holes in the top with the fork, and set the turnover on a cookie sheet. Sprinkle the top with some crunch turbinado sugar.
Bake 15 or 20 minutes in a fast oven, until brown and delicious. And voilà! Apple turnovers, better than you can buy at the bakery, and cheaper!
Is it possible for a glimmer to be dark? Here’s what I mean…
I consider the prospect of advanced old age to be extremely dim. You’re old, you’re sick, you hurt all over your body, and you’re alone. Because our culture does not promote caring for aged adults en famille, you’re probably going to spend the last years of your life in an institution—at best a life-care community that provides a simulacrum of independence, at worst a nursing home that’s really an expensive prison for the infirm and the frail. I’m not looking forward to it. Indeed, I so don’t look forward to it that I quietly hope not to live more than another ten or, at most, fifteen years.
Last night some choir friends invited me to join them as a guest at a meeting of the church’s social group for the radically aged. It was something to do…well, it fit in with the new scheme to get out of the house. So I went to dinner with them at the church.
It started out as a quiet evening. Most of the folks there were pleasant enough but reserved; they looked like they felt less than thrilled to be there but, like me, had nothing better to do. After a while, though, perhaps under the influence of a little wine, the people at my table started to chat. Turned out they had interesting things to say not only about their own wide experiences but about current events and phenomena. So it turned out to be a nice enough thing to do.
What struck me about the group was that we had a roomful of very elderly people—most, I’d guess, were in their 80s—who are living in their own homes. Unlike my father, who checked himself into a life-care community called Orangewood immediately after my mother died (he had been lobbying her to go there before she fell ill, but she resisted), none of these folks seemed to feel they need the shelter of an institution to get on with their waning lives. Nor do any of them appear to be dependent on their adult children. They’ve managed to preserve their autonomy in various ways, and evidently those ways are working.
I used to think my father could have engineered most of Orangewood’s benefits at a lot less cost without having to give up his freedom. For example:
• He could have moved from his house into a smaller apartment or condo, eliminating yard care and reducing the amount of housework.
• For a very reasonable price, he could have hired a housekeeper to clean said smaller space once every two weeks, the same frequency he got at the old-folkery.
• He could have stocked his freezer and refrigerator with prepared meals from Costco and Trader Joe’s, as these folks reported doing. This would eliminate the need to go to a communal dining hall every day for a bad meal of starchy, salty, sugary steam-table food.
• For what Orangewood cost by the month, he could have hired a taxicab to schlep him from pillar to post every day of his remaining life, mooting the concern about not being able to drive in old age.
• Orangewood had hobby rooms, a pool, and a limited array of other small amenities. But he already lived in Sun City, whose amenities by comparison are vast. And, for residents, free: no need to fork over an “endowment” of your entire life’s savings.
The only advantage Orangewood provided, for the $30,000 buy-in fee and the $1,000+ monthly fee, was guaranteed access to a decent nursing home. Unhappy experience showed that, at least in the Phoenix area, getting access to even vaguely acceptable nursing care when you actually need it is damned near impossible. Consequently, it does make sense to put oneself in line for a nursing home well in advance of need. However…the trade-off that you have to make for the privilege is huge.
Some time in the near future, I’m going to have to think about unloading this house and moving someplace that requires lots less maintenance. I’d like to wait until the real estate market turns around, if it ever does. M’hijito and I will have to figure out what to do about the upside-down investment we made before I can do anything. And I’d like to wait until my son decides where he’s going to be if and when he finishes his proposed graduate program. If he goes back to San Francisco, then I probably would be better off moving to Sun City than staying in the decrepifying central districts of Phoenix. Sun City is safer, it has more amenities for the elderly, and the surrounding infrastructure is newer and more upscale.
But those concerns aside, finding a bunch of really older people who are managing to take care of themselves just fine, thank you, is encouraging.
Lest any regulars feel puzzled when they encounter this: I just enabled WordPress to turn off commenting on posts over 30 days old.
Funny is being flooded with spam from those obscenely underpaid Third-World workers who are hired to enter advertising comments on random posts, presumably found by Web-bots. Because they’re live human beings typing real (but irrelevant) comments and entering real-looking (but fake) names and e-mail addresses, they get past the spam-catchers. This garbage adds mightily to the 100-plus messages a day that come pouring into my in-box; I’m getting tired of deleting the stuff—it just absorbs time and pushes up the annoyance quotient.
{sigh} Most of these are coming in on pretty old comments. I don’t want to disable commenting or make it password-protected, so I’m hoping this strategy works. If not, I’ll have to shorten the window for commenting to two weeks.
Anyway, if you get a message saying it’s too late to comment on some post, you’ll know what’s up.
