From The Archives: HOA Shennanigans, and Why I'm Glad We Moved HERE...

Today, I humbly submit the following. A letter I wrote, but did not send, to our Homeowners Association in response to their complaint of our alleged handball activity back in 2008:

Dear Home Owners Association,

I have received your condescending letter addressing the discoloration of my garage door. You believe that I may have caused this damage. You are requesting that I discontinue any activity that may result in common area damage immediately.

Your specific request: My garage door needs to be cleaned - the ball marks need to be removed.
My husband is amused at your assessment. I however am amazed at your stupidity. If this letter is indicative of the Board's communal vapidity, then God help us all.

Had you looked closely, you would have noticed that in each instance of discoloration, the TEXTURE of the wood under the paint was inconsistent with the rest of the door, and not any type of residue on the surface. I will say that again in smaller words so you will be sure to comprehend: the dark spots you see on the door ARE KNOTS IN THE WOOD. Had you been paying any attention at all, you would have noticed identical patterns in all the garage doors on our building. This is not a result of damage inflicted by any homeowner, but of a natural irregularity showing through a horrible paint job. Clearly you were too distracted by your shiny clipboard to access what little common sense the good lord gave you. Honestly, do you really think that a 42 year-old and a 45 year-old are playing HANDBALL against the garage? Are you kidding me? If you are offended by the garage doors (all five of which my husband and neighbor hosed down recently, as a gesture of good will), then you need to have your worthless paint crew put down the crack pipe and DO IT RIGHT.

How dare you threaten me with fines and/or hearings when you clearly don't know your own backside from a hole in the ground.

You people are no more than a pathetic bunch of power-drunk control freaks and attention whores. You need to be stopped.

I am preserving a copy of your letter as testament to your brainlessness. I truly hope you have a day job that does not require any critical thought.

Now kindly kiss off, you arrogant twit.

Sincerely,
One of several who hope you disappear, the sooner the better

Welcome To Our Blizzard, Make Yourself At Home...

January 28th, 2014. Our very first houseguest arrived in the form of Rick Reyes, our neighbor of 17 years back in California and Jeff's best friend. Jeff left for Spokane to meet Rick's flight, while I stayed behind to meet with the internet company associate and also receive a delivery of firewood. I did lots of laundry and watched lots of snow fall. I was terrified that it would block the driveway, but Jeff and Rick safely pulled up around 4 p.m. The original plan was to have everything in place and set up, but since our belongings were all 35 miles away in a storage facility this was not the case. Rick, being a gentleman, did not complain, even when I served dinner on our camping dishes. I thank God that this house was partially furnished when we arrived, otherwise we all would have been eating and sleeping on the floor.

Jeff got locked out of the house the following morning. Rick, ever vigilant about security, and had locked the front door without Jeff's knowledge. I made pancakes for breakfast. I couldn't say why. I hated pancakes my whole life for reasons even I couldn't explain. But special guests call for a special breakfast, and I was willing to make the sacrifice. They were amazing. Perfect and fluffy and sweet. I would have eaten more, but I couldn't convince the guys to join me in the carbohydrate binge.

The following day found us all heading down to Coeur D'Alene with a couple neighbors to pick up a load from the storage unit. We rented a moving van, loaded that up, along with three pick up trucks, and headed back up the highway. Halfway home, a snow storm hit. Rick and I were in the Dodge, following Jeff in the U-Haul truck. Snow was blowing at us parallel to the ground in quantities I could never have imagined. The roads, once clear, were now a foot deep in slick snow. The commercial truck was not equipped with snow tires OR chains, and did not make it up the final incline to our driveway. Jeff skidded back down the hill and slightly off the road, before coming to a mercifully gentle stop.

Somehow the guys managed to get chains on the remaining vehicles. We managed to get hold of Dan, who had plowed our driveway with his skidder, and he was soon on his way to bail us out yet again. He pulled the truck out of the culvert and got it parked along the side of the road so that we were able to unload it into the other trucks.

Several hair-raising trips later, we hauled the last of it up the hill and into the carport. I threw together a tall stack of sandwiches and a pack of cheap beer and gratefully fed our starving crew. After the two neighbors had left, Jeff called and made arrangements to hang on to the truck until it was safe to drive it down the hill.

The next morning found us all up at 3:30 in order to get our dear guest to the airport for his flight home. It was very hard to see Rick go, and I admit I cried after we dropped him off. I cheered up considerably when Jeff took me shopping on the trip back. There were shoes involved.

Later that morning Jeff and I braved the snow-laden hill once again and went to collect the moving van. After a slow, careful trip and a LOT of praying, we made it safely to the highway and back the 35 miles to the storage facility.

We are already planning Rick's next trip out here. Hopefully with substantially less snow. Like maybe JULY.

Fulfill ye my joy, that ye be likeminded, having the same love, being of one accord, of one mind. Philippians 2:2