Author Archives: HippieBoy

It’s What I Do

No, no, I’m fine…

Folks deal with stress differently. Back in ye olden days you could tell how stressed I was by how many cigarettes were hanging out of my mouth. Nowadays you gotta count gum wrappers. Right now I have five sticks of gum in my mouth. I’d be willing to bet my blood pressure is kinda high at the moment…


Hmmm…

I’m not all that swift at pattern recognition, but I’m starting to notice something over the years. Has anyone else caught on that it seems to be colder in the winter and warmer in the summer? Or is it just me?


It’s Unfair

Why hide warm cuddly doggies behind cold wet noses?

Take My Money!

What am I doing here…

My wife tells me I don’t make bad coffee. I make coffee very well. I’m just poor at choosing what coffee to make… (I like generic stuff, to be honest. I’m not picky.)


Hippie’s Hint of the Day:

Take three pieces of leftover frozen cheese pizza, stack them together, microwave for two and a half minutes – LASAGNA!


One of Life’s Disappointments

I always assumed that by now I’d understand what the song “Judy in Disguise with Glasses” means. But it still makes zero sense to me. Disappointing.


Ow!

I just bit my tongue. It seems like a silly design to me, putting the tongue right there by the teeth. There’s gotta be a better way of doing this…

Blah blah blah yadda yadda etc.

Motivation = Zero

I have somewhere in the neighborhood of six or six and a half million things that ABSOLUTELY positively NEED to be done RIGHT NOW! And all I want to do is overeat and take a nap, preferably at the same time. (It can be done. Trust me.)


George

I love indoor plants. I absolutely love seeing how people can transform a room into an indoor garden, bringing the feeling of summer indoors year-round. Feeling the tranquility and calmness of a summer’s day in a person’s living room in the middle of winter is a wondrous thing.

Us? We have one plant. His name is George.

Sadly, I tend to over-love plants and kill them. I love them so much I want to pinch their little cheeks and water them six times a day and move them constantly so they’re always in a patch of light…

So far George has avoided this fate. I’ve forced myself to be very hands-off with George, letting him find his own way in the world. (I assume Beloved Wifey is watering him. I hope.) We got George in Sioux Falls last summer after one of Wifey’s myriad doctor’s appointments. He looked so happy sitting there in the entryway of a health food store (I bought some organic popcorn) that we just had to have him. He rode merrily home in the back seat of the car, looking out the window at the passing scenery.

I hope he’s happy.


Le Sigh

I’ve only gotten three small projects finished so far this morning. None of them are for paying customers. No wonder we’re broke.

I just don’t feel well today.

Woes

It makes me sad. I’ll think of something funny and will write a quick Facebook post about it, then I’ll delete it before pushing the button. Invariably I can think of how someone could turn it into a conflict of some kind, or misunderstand my words and take something personally. I hate conflict. I truly do.


I’d be more apt to go to a gym if their commercials showed fat, middle-aged, sweaty folks like myself struggling through an exercise rather than peppy, 120-pound teenagers bouncing off the walls, grinning the whole time.

Also, if they’d move the gym closer to my house, that would help. Like, in my living room. I get winded if I have to walk much farther than that.

Oh, and none of this matters as I’ll never go to a gym anyway, ever.


If you’re selling puppies for two hundred dollars each on facebook for the fourth time in less than a year because “it was an accident the mom got pregnant again before i could get her spaded,” expect to get some flack from people who, you know, love dogs. And can spell “spayed.”

You can’t keep that poor mother pregnant forever, you’re killing her. You know how this happens. Give your dog a break!

Garage Door Woes

Dear Garage Door Company,

Hello. I feel we’ve gone off track here somewhere. I’m sure you can tell by the tone of my voice during our phone calls that I’m getting a little upset, but I’m not sure you know why I’m upset. I don’t want you to think my wife and I are difficult or demanding people, and I really want our relationship here to be mutually beneficial – you get some money and I get a garage door opener that works.

Here’s the skinny:

We moved to our happy little acreage in the boonies just about three years ago. In that time we’ve had at least five people out here trying to fix the Linear D050 that’s hanging up there, and we’ve replaced the entire unit once. I’ve spent way, way too much time up on ladders with a pocket full of tools, scratching my head, with very disappointing results. The garage door has been a constant problem.

My wife has developed some severe health issues. She’s slowly recovering now and is hoping to go back to work next week (she’s been unable to work for quite some time now). But she’s not nearly strong enough yet to hoist that garage door open and closed by herself. Though I work from home, there are times I’m simply not around to open the door for her – so if I’m gone for one reason or another she’s effectively stuck here at home until I get back. We tried simply leaving the door open for a while but that doesn’t work now that the snow is blowing, and there are quite a few gentle woodland creatures hereabouts who attempt to take up residence in our garage.

It’s surprising how scary and upsetting some of the gentle woodland creatures can be when you startle them in your garage. It’s also surprising how fast a startled hippie can run when confronted by scary woodland creatures up close.

So, we called yet another local pro to come fix our garage door opener, but he was really rude to us and said he couldn’t get out to do the work for a week or two. That obviously wouldn’t work, so we called your fine company. I’d found your number taped on the back of the garage door, so I figured you were involved in my garage’s past at one point or another… The nice lady who answered the phone was very polite and cheerful indeed, and said they could have someone out that very afternoon to fix our woeful problem. I asked the cheerful lady on the phone if they’d be able to start repairs that day. “Oh, of course! The guys have everything they need right there in their trucks!”

Hurray! Huzzah, even! With a feeling of giddy glee I felt I might finally be able to put this problem to rest! My door will be fixed!

That afternoon we were having a small Thanksgiving/Birthday celebration for Beloved Wifey, but I was very happy to put my fork down and run outside as I saw the cheerful white truck pull in the driveway – we really need a garage door that works. The Door Guy turned out to be a very polite and knowledgeable guy indeed, and immediately spotted the problem. “You need to replace that unit with another one that’s a lot more expensive, this one’s shot.” Well, okay, at this point I’m fine with that, though I’m a little disappointed that he didn’t get on a ladder or examine the existing opener other than to look at it from fifteen feet away. I told him to go ahead and replace it. “Well, I don’t carry that particular unit in my truck,” he said, “I’ll have them order one and we’ll get it installed Monday or Tuesday next week.”

Well, poop. That’s disappointing. Okay. “Well, poop. That’s disappointing. Okay,” I said.

The nice man started scribbling on a Job Invoice. “That’ll be… um… four hundred and fifty-four dollars. Unless you wanna go with the Deluxe Super-Duper Extra Torque model that will last twice as long, then it’ll be about a hundred more. I’ll need at least half the money now.”

The thought that ran through my head at that moment was, “That’s about twice as much as I was expecting, and about three times as much as I can afford. Beloved Wifey has been out of work so long… But if I pay the WHOLE AMOUNT right now, maybe the nice man, Alex, will be even nicer to me and will get here sooner and will do an extra-good job and we’ll never have problems with the garage door opener again. And we really need this done quickly.”

Hands shaking, I wrote out a check for the entire amount, hoping I’d find a way to get the money somehow. “Here you go.”

“Okay, great!” said the nice man. “Someone will call you first thing Monday morning to set up a time on Monday or Tuesday and we’ll be out and get this done for  you!” He smiled, got in his truck, and off he went in a cloud of dust.

Back inside I went. I told Beloved Wifey what had happened and what the plan was. “Wait,” she said. “Wait, you gave a complete stranger four hundred and fifty dollars – and they didn’t do anything? Do you really think they’ll be back? Are they a reputable company?”

I had to admit I’d never heard of the company before I’d called them. “But I’m sure they’re reputable,” I continued. “I mean, he had a truck with a logo on it, and he gave me this fancy invoice and everything.” I paused for a moment. “And I’m sure they won’t cash the check until after they’ve finished the work – they just need it as a guarantee so they’re not stuck with the bill for the parts if we back out.”

Monday morning finally came. I didn’t know what time the company considered “first thing in the morning,” but I really didn’t want to miss the promised phone call, so I got up a little earlier than my normal 4:30 or 5 a.m. just in case. By seven that morning I still hadn’t heard anything, but I needed to get in the shower (the dogs wouldn’t even come close to me), so I put the phone’s ringer on stun and set it on the sink next to the tub so I could hear it if it rang. It didn’t.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bXysRO11Xi8

By quarter to nine I was starting to get a bit nervous. I mean, “we’ll be out sometime Monday or Tuesday” is a bit vague… I called the number listed on the invoice to see what was going on, but no one answered, so I started canceling my appointments and plans so I could be sure to be available. Dentist appointment, canceled. Meeting with a customer, postponed. Phone conference, rescheduled. It took a bit of effort, but I cleared both days.

Monday morning turned into Monday afternoon, which turned into Monday evening. Still no phone call, no service man in a gleaming white truck. I have to admit, I was starting to get seriously depressed – we’ve been messing with this garage door for years, and now I’m wondering if I had been scammed out of a week’s pay. Beloved Wifey noticed that the check we’d written Friday afternoon was cashed first thing Monday morning. So much for my theory that they wouldn’t cash the check until the work was complete… 

Tuesday morning, still no phone call. By mid-morning Beloved Wifey called the company’s office. It turns out they couldn’t get the right garage door opener for some reason. “But we’ll be out Wednesday between two and four in the afternoon.”

Well, crap. I’d already canceled and rescheduled everything for Monday and Tuesday, now I need to block out most of the afternoon on Wednesday? Okay… My work is flexible, but I do have commitments to my customers, deadlines that are important to them, and I’m going to do my best to meet those commitments and deadlines.

Wednesday morning Beloved Wifey had a minor medical procedure that involved anesthesia. We had to make rather elaborate plans and backup plans on to ensure someone was available to drive her back home again afterwards to make sure I was able to be home by two so I could wait for the nice garage door man, and I had to reschedule yet more work stuff. But it all worked out. By two Wednesday afternoon I was standing by the window, boots on, hat and gloves ready, waiting to see the happy white truck. By two-thirty I was outside, pacing in the snow. By three I was getting agitated.

I’ve borrowed four hundred and fifty dollars to pay for this venture so far, and lost two and a half days’ work to make sure I was home at the right time to get this done. I’m going in the hole fast here.

By three-thirty I was back inside, head hanging low. I’ve been taken. I seriously feel like a failure of a man – I can’t even HIRE someone to fix my goddam garage door opener. Not only can’t I fix the problem for my wife, I can’t even manage to pay someone money to do it.

At five minutes to four in the afternoon the phone rang. “Hello, this is the garage door people,” said the familiar cheerful voice. “We’re having a little problem. I don’t think we’re going to be able to do the install today after all.” Seriously, I’m not surprised. I wasted half of another work day so I could be here “between two and four.”

Trying not to weep into the phone, I held back my bitter, bitter sobs. “Okay, why?”

“Well, it will take two people to do this install and one of our guys had some problems driving in the weather.”

Really? We drove in it just fine so we could be here for this big event. “It’s okay if they come later,” I said. “We’ll be here all night.”

“I’m sorry, but Saturday morning is the earliest they can be there.”

“If they’d like to come out early tomorrow morning, that’d be fine,” I said. “I’m usually up by four-thirty anyway.”

“I’m sorry, but I can have them there by nine Saturday morning, will that work?”

No, it won’t work – I’ve already rescheduled half a work week because you said you’d be here Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. And guess when I rescheduled most of it. Saturday morning. “Yes, that will work fine,” I sobbed into the phone. “That will work just fine.”

It’s Wednesday night now. I’m trying to figure out how to move my Saturday morning appointments to a different day. My work is flexible, but I do have commitments to my customers, deadlines that are important to them, and I’m going to do my best to meet those commitments and deadlines. That irritates me.

But what irritates me more is that I feel like I’ve been taken advantage of. I feel disrespected because the company didn’t feel I was important enough to call when they promised to call on Monday – which cost me a considerable amount of work. And again Wednesday afternoon, why did they wait until five minutes to four to call and say they wouldn’t be there because someone had troubles driving earlier that day – why not call me right away? That cost me more time and money.

What irritates me even more is that their website promises “24 Hour Service,” and “No Overtime Charge for Nights.” Except for me, I guess. I don’t count.

But what really scares me is the thought that I’ve been scammed. I’m really really really hoping that at nine o’clock Saturday morning I’ll see a shiny white truck in my driveway and a shiny new garage door opener being installed – but I have the sinking feeling that won’t happen. Borrowed money, lost work, high hopes, all thrown to the wind.

This kinda stuff seriously makes me feel like a failure.

Beyond Random

Dear Disapproving Neighbor

If you don’t want to see me wandering around in my undershorts, you should give me some warning before coming over. A person should be afforded a modicum of privacy, I mean, It’s my yard and I’ll rake it how I like. Sheesh.


Thoughts on Omaha

I read an interesting blog post on Omaha this morning and opted to leave the following comment:

This will make me seem exceedingly backwoods, but Omaha scares me. Close to half a million people? Ye cats! When people ask me where I’m from, I always say, “Sioux City, a town of 60,000 just north of Omaha,” because no one knows where Sioux City is. But I’m not really from Sioux City, I just say that. I’m from Le Mars, a town of 8,000 people just north of Sioux City. Except I’m not really from Le Mars either, I’m from Brunsville, a town of 120 just west of Le Mars. Well, actually, I’m closer to Ruble, just west of Brunsville, which had a population of two until Bill passed away a few years back…

I don’t get off the farm much.

So for me, going to Sioux City is spooky big, and Omaha is HUGE! Whenever we go to Omaha the traffic spooks me (I’m really not used to anything with more than two lanes) and I want to put a big sign on the back of my car that says, “Please Don’t Scare Me, I Poop Easily.”


Dejittering

About six months ago or so I switched to half-caff coffee. A few weeks ago I started mixing the half-caff in with decaffeinated, so I’m at about a quarter-caff. My stomach doesn’t hurt nearly as much now, and I find I’m able to concentrate better in the three hours a day I’m awake.


Le Sigh

I’ve talked to about twelve or fifteen different people about getting estimates to finish my basement. (Cash is scarce now, but I really do want to get the basement done sometime so I can set up a photography studio down there. Walls are up, paint is done, need a false ceiling, lights, floor of some kind, doors hung, that sort of thing.) But so far no one’s actually come out to our place to even look at it.

Meanwhile our garage door opener pooped out on us again. It’s worked maybe six months in the three years we’ve lived here, so I called a pro. He took my money, said he’d order a new unit, and told me he’d call me first thing Monday morning to set up a time either Monday or Tuesday to install the thing. It’s Tuesday, and I haven’t heard a word from him yet. I’m wondering if he took my money and ran.

Late yesterday afternoon I had occasion to use the water spigot on the side of our house (I was filling buckets of water to dump on some baby trees I got in the mail a few weeks ago from the Arbor Day people). After a bit I noticed water coming out from under our siding, leaking down the foundation. That’s NOT good. A quick trip to the basement revealed a nifty puddle of water along that wall. So I called the plumber. He said they’d be out today or tomorrow to fix it. I hope they follow through.

I worry. It feels like our little paradise is slowly falling apart, but I can’t seem to get people to come out and fix it, and if they do I’m not real sure how to pay them. It makes me feel helpless.

Quick Hits

It’s Money Day

Today is Send Statements To Folks Who Owe Me Money day. Hurray! If you happen to have used HippieBoy Design’s services and haven’t yet sent me all the happy monies you owe, expect a cheerful note in the mail from the fine folks in HippieBoy Design’s billing department (which is me).

Something to keep in mind as a consumer – if you choose to blow off a bill for one reason or another, it costs the company even more time and money in bookkeeping, postage sending out late notices, etc. And if a company has to send a person to collections, that means the company only gets a percentage of the total bill – the collections agency gets a VERY hefty chunk. No matter how things shake out, you’re going to pay the bill. Would you rather have it go to the Ma and Pop store that depends on every nickel for survival, or would you rather have your money go to a huge collections agency in Chicago?

Small businesses truly depend on every dollar that comes in the door. Our profit margin is so small even a loss of a small payment means our little family has to make big choices (food or medicine).

Please pay your bills.


Falling Behind Sucks

I’m feeling very low at the moment. I missed a deadline for paying my state sales tax and have to pay a penalty. Stupid mistake. I hate that my stupidity cost my family much-needed money.

I was hoping to have a small procedure done on my nose (I can’t breathe through the silly thing at all – the doc said he could try a simple procedure to fix it) by the end of the year since we’ve met our insurance deductible. Last week he said he could get me in by the end of December with no problems, but I waited until today to actually make the appointment – and now they can’t get me in.

It really pays to keep on top of things – and I know that! But between Beloved Wifey’s lengthy illness and a prolonged stretch of working a zillion hours a day I simply lost track of a few details.


Quit Scaring Me!

I don’t normally play the lottery or anything like that, but I couldn’t get that Publisher’s Clearinghouse Sweepstakes entry in fast enough this year. But why do they have to make the process so damned spooky? “If you dare miss one little detail in this big huge mess of worthless paper, you’ll lose out on MILLIONS!”

I don’t need to win millions of dollars, but we could sure use a little extra right now.

Facebook

Note: This post was originally written June 30, 2011. I just found it, unpublished.

Facebook’s out, at least for now. I’m done messing with it for a while. If you’re seeing this on Facebook, that’s simply because I have an automagic feed set up from years ago to publish my blog posts as notes on Mr. Zuckerberg’s Wondrous Money-Maker. If you’d like to see the original blog posts with photos and everything, just go to www.radloffs.net and click on “Blog.”

There are myriad reasons why I’m going to go back to blogging in lieu of Facebooking, but the main reason is that I’m simply fed up with arguing with people who are strong on opinions but weak on facts and logic. I hate to say it, but I’m feeling kinda, well, bullied into silence. Whenever I’d say anything remotely political I’d get hammered – often with arguments no more sophisticated than a regurgitation of yesterday’s FOX opinions*. I’m not sure whatever happened to “free speech” in America, but it seems I’m having problems with it…

Don’t get me wrong – everyone is entitled to an opinion. The problem is that I find myself wondering if everyone SHOULD be entitled to an opinion. When a professor studies politics and history, he reads books, studies philosophy, dig into the backgrounds of political thoughts and movements, has a grasp of political trends and shifts throughout history and what the consequences of those trends have been. I’d be more apt to listen to his opinion than that of someone who no education, no background in history, who gets his ideas from the talking heads on television rather than from his own study, whose political views are more a reflection of their personal insecurities than of a broad worldview… Yet on Facebook both are given equal time.

I’m tired of everything being an argument. I’m tired of having people think their opinion is fact. I’m tired of people believing their opinions mean more than facts.

Not too long ago I put out a plea for compromise, a call for Democrats and Republicans to work together for the betterment of the United States. Oddly enough, people argued with me. There’s a knee-jerk reaction to fight violently for “your side,” be it progressive or conservative. People forget that “your side” and “my side” are one and the same – America.

My wife and I were talking to an eleven-year-old boy about professional football. He liked the Vikings, thought Green Bay was okay, but when my wife mentioned she used to watch the Washington team when she lived in D.C., the boy jumped to his feet angrily. “I would never want to live in Washington,” he said. “That’s too close to that Barack Obama.” Hatred flashed in his eyes. Hatred from… what? Where does an 11-year-old learn to hate a politician? It would be a rare 11-year-old to hold a truly informed opinion about such matters. I’m glad the boy is aware enough of his country to know who the President is and seems to be interested, but I’m sad that those who are teaching him seem to be teaching him party division rather than independent, critical thought. Would I have been equally upset had he jumped up and said, “I’d love to live in Washington – I might be able to meet President Obama”? No, probably not. While no President is deserving of blind devotion, all Presidents are worthy of our respect.

*Did you know that FOX News is banned in Canada? They have laws against people lying on TV. It came up for a vote not too long ago, and the people of Canada overwhelmingly opted to keep the law as it is rather than let a FOX-style news show go on the air.

Note: This post was originally written June 30, 2011. I just found it, unpublished.

Dagmar’s Birthday

Wheee! What a fun day!

Today was Beloved Wifey’s birthday. I made her pancakes for breakfast, though she thought they were biscuits (I’ve never made pancakes before – they kinda got a bit out of hand). In the afternoon Wifey’s Mama came over with a fantastic Thanksgiving/Hanukkah/Birthday dinner. Towards evening my family stopped by for a brief visit. My brother has a Golden Retriever almost exactly the same age as our little Buttercup – the two dogs had a ball! When it was time for the family to go, our Buttercup kept trying to get in their car, and their Aspen kept trying to get in our house…