Birthday Celebrations!

November 22, 2017

The Turkey with a Boob Job

November 21, 2017

Turkey Day came early for us this year. We celebrated with the family on Sunday because Frank and I will be traveling to Kentucky over the holiday. We will spend Thanksgiving with Frank's family. Bob and Hugh are hosting us. I sent my Sunbasket order to Bob's to assist with the meal. We arrive mid afternoon on Thursday so shopping was out of the question. I'm hopeful the meal kit will work out as beautifully as intended. The family is all in Kentucky this year, because Frank's cousin is getting married at Buffalo Trace Distillery. Initially, I wasn't going to attend because airfare was more than $700 on Southwest. I was able to reserve Frank a more affordable fare because we was able to stay until Tuesday. I, on the other hand, must be back to work Monday morning. Last minute, though, I was able to find fairly cheap fares on Allegiant. They recently started flying to Louisville, and their schedule doesn't allow flights every day, but for this trip, it was just what we needed. I cancelled Frank's flight on Southwest and rebooked him sharing my dates. It ought to be a nice time.

A little over a week ago, I took requests for our Thanksgiving feast. Nick wanted glazed carrots, Jeff wanted asparagus and Frank requested a turkey with implants. What can I say, I like to make things happen. Jeff's request was the only one not honored, not for lack of trying, the asparagus at Albertson's was so thin it would instantly turn to mush. Our turkey was more obscene than I had intended, but it was all in good fun. When life gives you lemons, give your turkey... tatas.

This year, I also coated it in a herb butter mask. I also tented only the breast after the first half hour at high heat for about 2.5 hours. Then, removed the foil for the final half hour to achieve even browning. The extras didn't make for a more flavorful bird. Nor did the lemon boobs. It was very moist, but some pieces from the breast were tough. I don't know if that was a result of my doing or not. I stand by loading the area between the skin and the meat with butter, it really does make a difference. I've had great success with juicy turkeys by doing it that way.

These Bourbon Maple Glazed Carrots were pretty tasty. I omitted the dill. I probably could have dressed it with parsley, thyme or rosemary since I had all on hand, but it never occurred to me. I have a run of bad luck when it comes to mashed potatoes. One, I'm not particularly fond of them unless they are those by Joel Robuchon, but let's be real those are more butter with an essence of potato. And who does not like butter?! Mashed taters are such a staple I keep trying to find a recipe that works for me. I've tried ricers, whipping them and even the crock pot. Meh. I was going to scrap them this year, but I decided to make one last ditch effort by trying Pioneer Woman's Creamy Mashed Potatoes. They could be made in advance and with all that butter, cream cheese and cream how could they be anything but creamy? They were my greatest success to date, but they're miles from anything Robuchon like.

I only cooked dinner for nine, which is far less than I prepared for last year. So, the day was much easier. Plus, Amy brought green bean casserole - um. yum, and Lauren prepared salad with mixed greens, cranberries, apples, walnuts, bacon, and feta. It was the perfect blend of sweet and salty. I rounded our feast out with sausage stuffing (technically, dressing), steamed broccoli and cheese (another of Amy's specialties), cranberries and yeasty dinner rolls. We finished with pumpkin pie for dessert.

The biggest tip for your holiday spread is to invest in a electric knife. I received one as a gift last year for Christmas. It was thought to be blasphemous my kitchen was lacking one at Thanksgiving a year ago. And truly it was. Because this baby sliced like a dream, even right through the bones. Frank had the turkey carved in record time.

Wherever you are or wherever you go, may you have the best Thanksgiving yet. Hug your family, just a little longer - for me.

November Rain

November 17, 2017
The proceeds of my dad's condo were sent to me second day after closing. I was anxious to get the funds in the bank. I had received the EIN for the estate days before so I believed everything I needed to open his estate account was in order. I confirmed this with a phone call to my bank of choice and I was told to "come in", but when I showed up on a Saturday, I learned that the representatives that open estate accounts are only available Monday-Friday. It would've been nice if that was mentioned on the phone. Oh well. The agent set an appointment for the next Monday, and took copies of the documents to expedite the process. I arrived at my scheduled appointment and the rep sent off the documents to legal. This was after I received a call stating that I needed to bring in the originals because the copies would not suffice. Fortunately, I had them together already assuming that would be the case. All good - right?! Nope. The first snag was that one of the probate docs did not have a raised seal. Apparently, only a copy was issued by the courts. They were willing to waive it given the circumstances - court in another state and all, but then, they saw the other state was Illinois. This was a big problem. Illinois is one of the few, if not the only states, that require estate monies to remain in IL until probate has concluded.

I was at a national bank with branches in Nevada, Illinois and in all likelihood the rest of the 48 states. But the appointment came to a screeching halt. The account would have to be opened in Illinois. Period.

Um. Wow.

I had numerous conversations with the probate attorney prior to this and she failed to mention this detail. Even when I asked multiple times that there was nothing that would require my presence in IL. Needless to say, I was frustrated. I've now made two trips to the bank that were a complete waste of my time. I've spent a great sum to date that cannot be reimbursed until the estate account is open and I'm able to draw from it. Worst of all, I was looking at the added expense of a trip to Chicago or attorney fees to find a work around.

The universe took pity on me, I managed to find a flight to Chicago on Southwest the first week of November for $76 round trip. The fare was so inexpensive I easily had enough Rapid Rewards to cover it. Though, I was completely out of time off, my boss approved my two day absence given the circumstances. My only real expense was the rental car I picked up at Midway. This was considerably cheaper than the legal fees so the choice was easy, even if it meant - Chicago in November. Brrr. I faced a real chance of snow and blustery cold.

There were frost warnings the week before my trip. I whined about it every chance I got, it was 80's in Vegas. I wanted no part of the cold. But it was there to greet me on arrival. It was an incredibly wet weekend too, but I was fortunate that the temps never dipped below freezing so I didn't encounter snow. Small victories.

When I got into town I took the shuttle to the rental car facility. It was extremely busy for it being one o'clock in the morning. All sorts of high school kids and their families were in town for some sort of hockey tournament. You couldn't walk without tripping over a hockey stick. I happened to be (proudly) wearing my Vegas Golden Knights hoodie, but no one acknowledged it (boo). After sorting out the paperwork, I was given the choice of two vehicles in the lot. My first pick was a Mitsubishi which I quickly learned that it had bad brakes and a check engine light illuminated. So, that was a no go. The other vehicle was a Hyundai with a missing a back license plate. I was paranoid the whole trip that I was going to be pulled over. It was a relief when I returned the vehicle without incident. I know it was a busy weekend, but I really would expect better from Alamo. In fairness, I've only had good experiences in other cities.

I had a bad case of butterflies prior to the appointment I had scheduled with the bank. I was nervous there'd be some sort of hiccup that would prevent me from opening the estate account. I stopped at the attorney's office to pick up the original documents that they had been received from court the week before per my request. I could breath a little easier with those in hand. The representative that assisted me at the bank had the title of Vice President, but he had no experience opening an estate account. This did not put me at ease. Fortunately, I did have experience, I was able to walk him through what he would need to send to legal so we could get started. Legal provided the support to get things done on their end. It took forever... and a day. But it was done. Hallelujah. I was able to deposit a whole stack of checks. Plus cash from the sale of my dad's car. My mother-in-law sold it the week before, I was so thankful. If it hadn't been sold, I planned to donate it while I was in town.

With my mission accomplished I was free to visit friends and family. I also worked in my mother-in-law's shed organizing belongings from my dad's condo, and I worked to clear items I left cluttering her garage. As I sorted, I picked out as much as I could safely pack in suitcases to bring back to Vegas. I couldn't let two free checked bags on Southwest go to waste. However, I was nervous the bags would be lost in transit. I packed the items of actual value in my carry on and I checked the sentimental items. I was relieved when I was reunited with all my luggage back at McCarran. I don't think I've ever traveled so heavy in my life. I don't know people do it regularly.

It was nice to catch up with old friends and spend time with family that I haven't seen in way too long. Satisfying cravings always hits the spot too. I consumed many bowls of creamed soups. Whatever the variation - I miss them so. It was also a nice treat to see the fall foliage. We don't get much of a show living in the desert so the colors were quite beautiful. One afternoon I took a ride to Lake Katherine which is a large park with prairies and wetlands that are situated a 10 acre lake. I hadn't been there in nearly 20 years. It was pretty muddy and many leaves had already fallen and the colors weren't as spectacular as I hoped, but it was a scenic stroll along the lake.

As far as I know, this was my last major hurdle. A huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. The past three months were extremely demanding and they've left me weary. Despite it all, I was able to catch several breaks. For that, I am thankful.

VGK: Warm Ups

November 15, 2017

You know you're in Chicago when....

November 8, 2017

21 Days: List to Close

November 3, 2017
I left Chicago and returned home. It was only a day before we left for San Diego, but it was nice to have one night's rest in the comforts of my own bed. I had been away for 17 days, the longest ever from home and the most days I've missed from work. Two weeks had been the prior record when traveling to Italy and Ecuador. This Chicago trip was anything, but vacation. To say I slept very little while I was gone would be a major understatement. It's surprising I was able to function. I swear, I ran purely on adrenaline. Once I hit the ground running there was barely a break to take a breath. No joke.

"Winter is coming!" I was in real life, Game of Thrones. This condo had to sell before winter. I was concerned about the carrying costs, the risks of the unit being vacant, pipes freezing, the hot water heater leaking, the shower flooding and that just scratched the surface of my worries. After taking 10 days to flip my dad's condo, the listing agreement was executed on August 29. I wanted it on the market for Labor Day weekend, just in case eager buyers or looky-loos stayed home for the holiday. When it went live the next day, it was hard to sit back and wait. My home selling experiences have been far from the norm, and I have zero knowledge regarding IL real estate so I didn't know what to expect. It was completely out of my control, which made me anxious.

Fortunately, the first showing came the next day. When people started coming to see it, I was eager for feedback. Very few left comments, the biggest concerns were the hot water heater and the windows. We were offering a home warranty and the asking price reflected the need for window replacement and bathroom repairs. I was hopeful the right buyer would understand this. Eight days after list, I received a call from our agent; she had multiple offers. Two were serious, one would be financed and the other cash. The cash offer was enticing. It would allow a lower commission, sell as-is, and it'd be quick to close. After discussing with Mike and Amy, we countered, and I was hopeful the cash offer would go to contract. Per my lucky stars, it did the very next day. Closing was anticipated 10 days later. Wow. I was speechless.

Nothing is ever this easy. I just waited for the other shoe to drop, but no issues ever came. Illinois real estate transactions require attorneys; their coordination with the title company took longer than the suggested 10 days to close. I did everything in my power to make it happen timely, but it was scheduled for two days later. I signed power of attorney to the probate attorney's office so I didn't have to be present. That afternoon, I clung to my phone and email anticipating some sort of hiccup, but the transaction was flawless. The proceeds were overnighted the very next day.

35 days to pack, move, flip, list, sell and close. I could finally breathe.

Probate is a very public process so I've been fielding calls and mailers from all sorts of investors hungry to ease my burden. Some may be well intended; many are clearly not. I get it, it's business, but it feels so dirty to prey on the vulnerable. I take great pride when I inform them that the property has been listed and sold, the fizzle in their tone when I ask to remove me from their list thrills me. It's the little things...


November 1, 2017

Our Flip?!

October 30, 2017
Mike and Amy headed back to Vegas, I stayed in Chicago to get the ball rolling. I didn't know how long I'd stay, I only knew there was a lot to do. I first thought I'd stay long enough to collect my dad's cremains. I planned to begin cleaning and sorting through my dad's place to pass the time - I figured I'd have to wait for probate to sell the condo.

My hope was to drive my dad's car while in town, but his brakes were barely functioning. I had a friend that is a mechanic give it a look, it definitely needed brakes and calipers. Plus, a whole lot more. More than the car is likely worth. I thought I had no choice, but to extend my rental. However, my aunt kindly offered to let me use her vehicle. I quickly accepted knowing I'd be amassing a great deal of debt handling my dad's affairs. No will, no beneficiaries, assets and real estate meant probate was unavoidable. It was new waters to navigate. I was fortunate to settle my mom's estate with small affidavits and avoid legal fees. I gained a great deal of knowledge in Nevada, but I'd learn little applies in Illinois.

In short, Illinois is racket. Everything is more costly and has more red tape. The cost for direct cremation, for example, was nearly double in Illinois compared to Nevada. That was after a slew of phone calls, too. The first few quotes through funeral homes were four, yes 4! times as much as we paid La Paloma in Las Vegas. It was a pill I couldn't swallow, we persisted. By cutting out the middle man, we saved a bundle by going to Skyline Crematory. They were professional, timely, compassionate and I was very appreciative they weren't out to take advantage at such a vulnerable time.

I began by finding a probate attorney on Avvo. It's like Yelp, but for lawyers. I weighed options, got Mike and Amy's input and ultimately decided to get started right away. I pulled as much paperwork as I could for the appointment, and only had to follow up with a few items. The consult was a whirlwind. Naturally, I was overwhelmed. I have already carried the costs of my mom's estate since she passed, and the burden of my dad's was far greater. Cook County has incredibly high taxes, even for a modest condo in the 'burbs. Fortunately, there was no mortgage. But once you combine the taxes with the monthly HOA, insurance and utilities; I was looking to carry at least a grand per month. At least, I did not have to wait for probate to list the condo. I only had to wait to petition the court before I could sign the sales contract as representative of the estate. Initially, it was a relief to learn this, but it solidified the fact that I had an insurmountable task ahead of me. Time was of the essence. Though, I was grief stricken I knew I had to be practical and sensible.

The attorney recommended a real estate agent. I followed up with her to gauge how to proceed. She was helpful and informative. The market has grown stronger, but it's no where near the level we are experiencing in Vegas. I also realized I was heading into the second slowest season for real estate sales. School was just about begin, and winter was coming. My fear was confirmed, I was in race against time. However, she was encouraging and said that life happens, even in stale markets. You just never know.

My dad lived in his condo for 20 years. He was a smoker, he rarely opened the windows and never used the A/C. The condo was nearly thirty years old, it had been in our family since '93. My great grandparents bought the place for my aunt to live. She passed, shortly before my parents divorced. My dad moved in, inherited her belongings and collected his own over the years. My brother and sister had both lived with my dad for periods of time. My brother's room was the master with attached half bath. My sister had the other bedroom. My dad had always preferred the couch to a bed, and that didn't change when he had the place to himself. The rooms have pretty much been frozen in time. The living areas were neglected since my dad had lived in Vegas the majority of the past two years. I bought cleaning products with the intent to scratch the surface so I'd know how to best proceed.

Frank flew in late afternoon on the day I met with the attorney. After picking him up at the airport we grabbed dinner at our favorite Chinese restaurant, Gum Wah. I rattled off everything that occurred and I learned so far. Prior to his arrival, I told him I was okay and it wasn't necessary he come. I knew he had a lot on his plate with work, I didn't want to burden him with being away and knee deep in all that was mounting around me. He didn't hear of it. I was happy he came. The hug was worth the trip alone, but little did I know how much was ahead of us, and how much I'd rely on him.

That night we went to my dads. We cracked the windows - literally, the wood splintered all along the frame. Fresh air seeped into the place, but the smell of cigarettes was still so thick it stung your eyes and lingered in your lungs. I got to work on the kitchen. I started with the sink (and moved on to the counters and stove). If I could turn that around, I'd had hope for the rest of the place. Low and behold, I had it looking like new. Elbow grease and SOS pads to cut through the gunk. We can do this. I guess you could say, it became our first flip.

We returned in the morning, with Frank's mom, to begin packing. Frank also arranged for a dumpster and we planned to pack and move whatever was salvageable into my mother in law's storage shed. When the condo was empty, we'd paint and replace the carpeting. Once we got started, we didn't stop. I put in ten full days and nights. I'd get to the condo by 9AM and I'd stay until at least midnight. Frank was only going to stay a few days, but he kept rebooking his flight due to set backs.

Wednesday, we started the day shopping for carpet. It was tough to find a place that could install in a hurry. The big box stores and name brand places were no help. We found a hole in the wall place nearby, they had cheap carpet in stock that looked nice. An appointment to measure was set for the next day and we scheduled the install for the following Wednesday. With that, the deadline was established. The rest of the day we packed and loaded as much as we could ourselves. Our friend, Bill, loaned us his pick up truck. It made the process much easier.

Thursday, the dumpster arrived and real progress began to happen. We met the neighbor, Mike, during one of the numerous trips to the dumpster. He lives in AZ, but had been in town for a few weeks cleaning out his mom's place. She had passed suddenly too. He offered some rags and such that we took knowing we could use for cleaning or painting. The dumpster was full midday and we just kept adding to it. Lesson learned get the bigger dumpster. That evening, Frank enlisted the help of our friends from high school. The extra muscle allowed us to clear the condo of furniture in a hurry. After showering, we took our friends to Beggars for dinner. It was nice to catch up and relax.

Friday, Frank took the ride with me to pick up my dad. When we returned, we moved what was left, shopped, pulled toilets, patched holes and began to prep for paint. We grabbed dinner with friends, and planned to begin priming with Kilz after. Our friend, Dan, was coming by to lend a hand. Bill had also loaned us his painting supplies so it saved us a fortune. We returned to the condo to find the bathroom under a few inches of water and it was flooding the back bedrooms. The carpeting in the hallway was completely saturated. We couldn't stop the water, it just kept coming up from the shower. Snaking the line didn't have any success, it was well after hours, so we had no choice but to place an emergency call with Roto Rooter. There was a soft blockage in the main line. Very common these days with so-called flushable wipes, paper towels, etc. We sit on ground floor at the lowest elevation so we took the brunt of it. Joy. No amount of rags could dry this mess. Believe me, I tried.

I wish I could say I was stoic, and thankful, we were here to find it. But no, I lost it. Complete meltdown. The flood brought my anxiety to new heights. What if this happens after the new carpet is installed, when I'm back in Vegas, etc. Frank calmed me, he and Dan, took control of the situation. We borrowed fans and a shop vac from Bill. Not only are we fortunate to have him for a friend, but he also lives around the block and has better inventory in his garage than Menards. Which by the way, is the poorest excuse for a home improvement store. That place infuriated me on the daily. Life would have been much easier with a Lowes or Home Depot nearby, but I digress. Rather than painting, the evening was spent sucking up as much water from the carpet as possible. We left leaving the fans run all night.

By morning, it had not dried one bit. As the day went on, the smell of mildew grew stronger and stronger. Still, we pressed on. We had 5 gallons of Kilz on the walls. Thanks to the help of my Aunt Sandy. Trouble was that the walls were so parched they gulped the primer like a tall glass of water on a hot day. Worse, yet, the smoke stains kept bleeding through. We added coat after coat, Frank tried buying a sprayer to speed up the process but it was garbage. Brush and roller was the only way to get the coverage that was needed. That and 50 coats, maybe?

By Sunday, we had both new toilets installed and 10 gallons of Kilz on the walls. Progress, but there was still so much to be done. The paint fumes weren't enough to tackle the horrendous mildew stench that now overpowered any remnants of cigarette smoke. It was nauseating. We cut away and discarded the wettest sections of carpet to rid the odor and allow the concrete to dry. Midday I was exhausted and my hands were crippled. I came to the realization that I couldn't - we couldn't - possibly finish the job ourselves.

Frank found a guy on craigslist that could come Monday with a professional sprayer. He said he could knock out the unit in a day for a few hundred bucks. Originally, I was going to do the bathroom and kitchen myself, but ultimately, agreed to let him do it all. We stopped painting, and started prepping the condo to be sprayed. My dad's place has gorgeous oak trim, cabinets and doors throughout. Protecting the wood became my obsession. Much to Frank's dismay. But it was in perfect condition. I know oak isn't trendy anymore (give it a few years) but I believe in restoring the integrity of natural wood. It should only be painted when the condition is too poor to otherwise salvage. Deep down, I'm sure my obsessing over the wood work was my way to focus on the tasks at hand rather than dealing with the emotion of the whole experience. So, he humored me and we taped every linear foot. We covered the cabinets and doors in plastic. It was looking very much like a scene from Dexter.

The painter got right to it. There were still areas that needed covering so I fought to finish, but rather quickly the whole condo filled with paint in the air. I could feel the sting in my lungs. It was time to get out. I didn't get every surface covered. It is, what it is.

We camped outside, the lull allowed me to go through years of mail while I sat with Frank while he smoked a cigar in the shade near the dumpster. He had just a couple hours before his flight home, we said good-bye so he could clean up before his mom dropped him at the airport. He never got to see the finished product first hand, but I sent pictures each step of the way.

The painter did knock out the whole place in a day; he also, found the walls to be extremely thirsty. Said and done, there were 20 gallons of paint and Kilz primer on the walls. They were so saturated because there wasn't enough time for the paint to dry. The sprayer left drip marks - all over. There was overspray on the wood trim. The tile in the entry and bathroom were never protected so they were fully covered in paint.

I was devastated. The job was done, but not to my standards. I had taken such care and attention to the priming, and it was all for not. The walls and ceilings were clean and bright (though, in hindsight, I should've went with a much darker color than white) and we were nearly rid of the smell of smoke. Even the mildew smell took a backseat to the smell of paint. So, all is not lost. Sigh. It is, what it is. This became my mantra. I got a rag and bucket and got started immediately cleaning the trim, and later the tile. Fortunately, I had not yet cleaned the wood so the years of smoke and dust provided just enough grime to create a layer of protection. It was tedious and time consuming, but I had it looking like new. While I was crawling along the floor, I realized how wet the carpet still was in the bedrooms from the flood. I pulled up the carpet and piled it in the middle of the room to allow the concrete to dry.

The paint fumes were too strong when I arrived on Tuesday morning, I couldn't get anything done. While I let it air out, I visited an old friend from high school. She had a baby a few months earlier and I was eager to meet him. We had a nice visit and ordered Lou Malnati's. After, I shopped for window coverings, shower curtain and other necessities to finish the condo. When I got back, I ran into Mike the neighbor. We traded notes and commiserated with each other. Loss alone sucks, but this part, is really the pits. With Frank back in Vegas and his mom gone to KY, I was solo. Bill stopped by to look in on me & Mike would ask if I needed anything when he'd run errands. Thankfully, I didn't encounter anymore disasters. I tried to sand the wall to correct the drip marks and repaint but it was too long of a process and my time was up. The carpet installers were coming in the morning. I had to move on. It is, what is. Sigh.

Wednesday's lesson was that the cheapest price for carpet does not mean its the best. The carpet itself was fine, the color worked better than I imagined. It really tied everything together and the multicolor will hide dirt and traffic marks, which was really great for showings because once it's listed since no one will be there to maintain it. The installers were friendly, but lord were they slow. I figured they'd be done by lunch. I was wrong - it took 8 hours. And, they still had to come back the next day to finish the job. When they arrived they assumed there had been a fire in the unit, fresh paint, wet carpet that smelled of smoke and mildew. "Nope! Just a smoker and a flood", I replied.

That evening I could finally see the finish line. Things were really coming together, but I was falling apart. I was so torn. I was positively crushed that I was moving at such a rapid pace, but I was so proud of what I accomplished. It no longer looked like my dad's place. This fact was so horribly bitter sweet. I was determined to finish one room fully. Amy's seemed to be easiest, but there was one problem. Painters tape that her and Jeff put up more than ten years ago was still there. When I asked her why they never removed it after painting, she said, "it was too hard." Trust me when I say it was no easier all these years later. But my obsession with the trim wouldn't allow me to leave it. I persisted and eventually it was all gone.

The next day, I hung new sheers, vacuumed and one room was finally complete. Not a moment too soon, either. I had scheduled meetings with two realtors for Thursday. I knew I wanted the paint and carpet complete before I let anyone give me a market analysis - first impressions and all that, it had to be clean and smell good to get people through the door. I hoped to have the condo photo ready Thursday, but it wasn't. There was still much to be done. But I was comfortable letting the realtors see the place. It was time to find out what we were working with, and hopefully, all of our hard work was worthwhile. Both were impressed overall. Each had different suggestions to "finish" it like replacing dated light fixtures to painting the cabinets or gutting the bathroom. I valued their opinions, but I was done, I put all the time, money, blood, sweat and tears into it that I could manage. I ultimately decided to list with the agent the attorney recommended. She was familiar with the area, which was important to me because location was the condo's greatest selling point.

Meanwhile, I was down to my final 24 hours in Chicago. Months ago, I had booked Frank and I a trip to San Diego. I actually booked it twice. Because the Mayweather/McGregor fight was announced, and of course, it fell during our trip. I had to rebook to accommodate Frank having to work. Flights were booked on Spirit so I essentially paid for the flights twice for the change. It was important that I go - not just for the expense, hassle, but for my sanity. I had been through the ringer physically, mentally and emotionally since my uncle's call on the 8th of August. I need to get away. I needed rest. San Diego was the perfect distraction.

I was a bundle of nerves when I woke Friday. I think the lack of sleep was really wearing on me. My to do list seemed a mile long. My brother was back in town - I was terrified and thrilled to show him the condo. It was a major change since he left 11 days earlier. He had booked this trip in advance, he was going to visit a friend in MI and stay with my dad a night or two. I was lucky to have him, because I simply could not get it all done. My aunt came over to help, too. They were both shocked by the transformation. Time ticked by way too fast - much of my morning was wasted making returns and running all over trying to get keys made. There were just so many finishing touches. We made a great dent, but the floor in the laundry room was still covered in paint. Tools and whatnot were still scattered about. I hadn't hung the curtains for the patio slider. HOA requires window coverings, I asked Bill to come by and hang it. I didn't have the proper tools to even attempt it. I returned everything that was borrowed, said good-byes exchanged numbers with Mike, and got cleaned up before my brother took me to the airport. Tears welled up in my eyes as I closed the door for the final time behind me.




I was flying Spirit and only had my personal item. I also had to secure dad in my bag (now, there's a story for another time) with whatever else I could fit (photos and important docs). Mike tackled the rest of the to-do list, Bill hung the curtains, and my aunt came by for one last clean sweep before the Realtor scheduled the photographer.

And... That's how we flipped my dad's condo in ten days.

I could not be more thankful for the friends and family that went the extra mile for me. I could not have gotten so much done in so little time without their help. I'm forever grateful.

Golden Knights Fever

October 25, 2017

Practice Makes Perfect!

October 18, 2017

Then, There Were Three

October 16, 2017

Our family has weathered a number of storms. It's true, the past few have been the most difficult, but we've stuck together through it all. The bond the three of us share will carry us through the hardest times and propel us into the future of countless joys.

In the days that followed our dad's passing, we were exhausted and stunned. There was only one place to dull the numb. Johnson's Beach was calling us home. It's where we spent a number of summer days. Nearby, West Beach was far more popular. I went a couple times with my aunt and cousins, but our parents were never ones to follow a crowd. They always opted for the path less traveled. I have no doubt it is where I acquired my sense of adventure.

Growing up, my dad spent his summers at my grandparents home in Chesterton, IN. He spent many of days at the beaches that dot the shores of the Indiana Dunes State Park. He was most fond of Johnson's Beach and we too would develop a penchant for it.

The dunes were unlike anything I had ever seen. Far bigger than any hills I had known. I'd struggle to run up as high as I could before my feet would tire beneath me, then, I'd fall to the ground and roll to the bottom while trying to tighten my smile to keep from eating a mouthful of sand. I brush myself off and try again. Rinse and repeat.

I loved it most when storms were brewing up sizable waves. Big waves were my favorite. My best memory was in 1990, my brother and sister were small so they stayed behind with family. It was an incredibly humid day so we went to the beach. As the day went on the waves grew bigger and bigger. It was a struggle to swim to the sand bar like we would routinely do. The waves were so fierce in the afternoon we were easily turned into pretzels. It was positively fun. We splished and splashed having the best time. Mid afternoon the skies turned dark and electricity filled the air. Our wet hair stood on end. It remains one of the wildest sights I've seen to date. The ominous clouds signaled that it was time to go. We grabbed lunch at the Lure which was tradition. It was there were learned a tornado ripped through Plainfield, IL. It is the only F5 tornado that has struck the Chicagoland area. Watching the news coverage that night I recall feeling guilt that the storm delivered us the best of times, but the destruction was devastating for so many.

Returning to Johnson's Beach proved to be more challenging that anticipated. It had been about 18 or 19 years since I had been back. I took Frank one summer just before the 4th of July. After buying fireworks at the nearby stand, we had a spontaneous day at the beach. Mike and Amy had been more recently, but it had still been a few years. Our memory isn't as vivid and the trees and brush have certainly grown over time. We eventually found our way. The dunes aren't as big as I remember them - the bias likely comes from being surrounded by mountains these days - it seems the beach has eroded too. Having less shore made it far more crowded than I can ever recall it being. The water was calm as could be, and painfully cold, to me. Though, others didn't seem to mind.

That afternoon the three of us we sat in peace and reflected on the memories that were born here. Ones that will live on, and forever, be cherished.

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