Thursday, July 30, 2009
Finally
Monday, July 20, 2009
Hee hee! hahahahaha
this floating around. I almost wet myself.
It's almost as funny as the blue eyed horse
registry, which is a for real deal!
Enjoy!
Probate... it ain't for sissies
I think most people have absolutely no idea what goes on after they die. They believe, thanks to commercials that tell them so, that if they have a will, everything will be hunkey dorey and it will all be good. Well, I am here to tell you that is a big fat lie. Even if everything is spelled out, you still have to go to court. You have to ask permission to fart. You have to make sure that anyone and everyone who might possibly have a claim, all the way back to cave-man days knows that your loved one died. You have to send out notices... notice I typed notice(s). Plural. And for every notice you send out - heirs, debts, other claims, newspapers, and on and on, you have to wait. You have to wait to give any of the bloodsuckers who wouldn't otherwise come forward to get off their dead asses and come to the hearing that involves them. If for any reason, the notices are not right (up to and including simple typo's), then you must get a continuance, and set another court date. Do not ask me how I know this, just know that I do know. Once you finally get all the papers right, then you have your day in court. This takes all of 5 minutes, and requires that you sign a paper.
All of the above is just so that you can get to be appointed the executor (Personal Representative) of the estate. Now comes the fun stuff. Going through all of the stuff. You know, the stuff the person left behind. Their life. If you are like me, this is the worst thing you have ever done. You have to decide to throw stuff out. You have to decide what to sell, and what to keep, and you have to play referee to everyone who wants stuff. When all the stuff is gone, then you start on the house. For me, this was the most difficult thing. The house was where my mother lived. Selling it is severing the last physical tie to my mother. Knowing that someone else will be living there, and perhaps changing everything about it is difficult at best.
I thought nothing would be harder than making the decision to call a realtor and put the house on the market. Boy, was I wrong. I thought that you just called a realtor, and sold the stupid house. Ahahahaha!! Notice the slightly hysterical edge to the laughter? Well, that is because what should be a very simple thing (to my way of thinking) has turned out to be a huge assed mess. You have to get *permission* from the court to sell the house. Then you have to show them the offer, and tell them that it is the best offer you are likely to get. If they think so, they approve the sale. But wait... you have to notify the heirs (that you have already gone to court over like 12 times) that you are selling it. Then wait. Then inform them that the court says you can (then wait some more). Then you get approval to approve the sale.
We have had a few setbacks. The judge is new to this type of law, and is a by the letter (forget the book) person. If something is not right, instead of changing it there, we have to have a do-over. It is insane I tell you. If we can get the latest paper resolved, then we are ready to close on the house. After that, we will have to go to court over another part of the estate, and cannot distribute the funds until that is settled. I am going to assume it will be as big a mess as the last part was, so I don't see winding the whole thing up for several more months.
So, when you do the right thing, and make a will to let the world know where everything goes, just know that you have done the easy part. Try to keep everything simple and clear. Make sure that you have done all the things you need to do, painful as it is for you to face your mortality. You will save your executor a lot of heartbreak. And for those of you who know you will be an executor, find yourself an excellent attorney. Ask questions. Surf the net, and find out what is going to happen. I was so naive, and it has made me this _close to being insane, and it ain't over yet...
As the windmill turns...
So, I drive up to the barn. Stop to open the gate, because there is always at least one and usually 6-9 horses running loose, waiting to mug me for my grain...drive through, and close the stinking gate. Have I mentioned what a pain in the ass it is to have to fight off any number of hungry horses in order to get to my paddock??
Anyway, I get back in my truck and drive past the falling down house full of used books (whose pages are scattered all over the place, and end up in my water tanks), and what do I see? I see three, that is right, not two, as in Baxman and Miss Susie, but three horses in my *private* paddock. I pay extra so that my horses do not have to have roomies. So I am a bit shocked and pissed to say the least. The horse that is in my paddock is a filly that I had the pleasure of introducing to the longe whip, since she was going to run me over to get at the grain in the bed of my truck, and then had the nerve to back up and try to kick me. Uh...no....
Lo and behold, the barn manager (hereafter referred to as BM) was there waiting for me. He could tell by not only the look on my face, but also the tone of my voice that I was pissed. I explained to him as nicely as I could that I did not appreciate paying for a private paddock, and finding someone else's' horse in my pasture. I explained to him that I had gone to a fair expense to make it so my horses were confined to their pasture, and safe, and that I did not expect to have to fence OUT everyone else's' horses.
After we reached an understanding about how I felt, we proceeded to remove the invader... We got her in my small feed area, thinking she couldn't run far.... She ran right through two strands of hot tape without hesitation. He did not believe me when I warned him that she would kick. He believed me after she got cornered and began backing up to deliver the double barrel. Fool. After much dithering about, and him applying the end of a lead rope to her backside, we finally caught her and she was evicted. I told him to tell her owners that I was VERY unhappy, and if she got back in my paddock, and injured either me or my horses, I would sue them. I hope he understood that I was serious, because I won't hesitate.
He proceeded to give me some sob story about she had been locked in the barn, and he just didn't know who had let her out, and how she was in heat and causing him troubles with his stallion. The same stallion that regularly breaks out and impregnates horses all over the farm, hence my two fence chargers. Blah Blah Blah... I don't want to hear it. My horses have never (knock wood) gotten out, or caused any problem at all. I can't believe that I am going to have to spend the money to put hot tape on the frigging outside of my paddock, not to keep my horses in, but to keep all these other ill bred pukes out! What is up with that??? Someone needs to enforce the damn rules that say if your horse is getting out, you will purchase and install hot tape and a fence charger. I think they don't want to spend more on the fence than they spent on the damn horse.
I am really sick of catching horses out in the road, and having to be mean to horses that are hungry, and running loose because their sorry excuses for owners don't care enough to get a fricking fence charger (I have 2) and make sure their horses are safe. It is just ridiculous. The BM is no help either. He leaves all his horses out loose every single day too. He has a two month old (accidental) baby. He just doesn't get that babies have no sense, and will dart through an open gate if they feel like it. I don't get it... don't people care if their horses get out in the road and get hit, or cause someone to die??? I know of at least two horses that have been killed in the road from this place. Sheesh! I have personally caught 5 different horses (some more than once) and put them back where they belong.
I do not work for the BM. I do not work off my board. I should not have to be filling water tanks, feeding starving horses, calling people to tell them their horses are hurt or sick, or have knocked down their hot fence, pushed a poorly chained gate open, or are running loose in the middle of the road. I already have a job. I pay my board, and care for my horses.... The BM should do his job, and enforce the rules.
ARGG!!! I cannot wait to move!
Whiney, aren't I?