Credit card madness

So, small business owners often have to "float" expenses.  Our new magazine has a line of credit, but when I draw on it the magazine will have to pay interest starting the day I make the draw. Whereas if I put the expense on another credit card, say, for instance, one that I pay off every month and therefore never have to pay interest on....well, the company will not have interest charges for that amount for 3-5 weeks, until I file for reimbursement.

So.....

Last Thursday I filled out the authorization to put the magazine pre-bill (half of the cost of printing an issue) on my personal credit card. I noticed that the expiration date was two weeks hence.  I called the company. "Please send new cards....and by the way, please let the fraud division know that today a charge larger than my usual monthly total will come through. "No problem, Ms. Stewart" (cardholder since 1998).

About 30 minutes later the phone rang. It was a supervisor from the credit card company. He informed me, regretfully, that the customer service rep had accidentally/inadvertently cancelled my card. Oops.  I told him about the abnormally large charge, and basically laid a big guilt-trip on him about holding up the publication of the magazine (publishing world strange fact: you don't get your real bill until you submit all materials, and then it is due immediately or you delay printing.

After an hour on the phone and a 3-way with fabulous Missy at the printers, I had had a new card issued, used to pay the printer via phone, and then cancelled because the fraud division requires that when a card is "compromised" by being given out by phone.  A new card was issued. I asked for overnight delivery. The rep knew I was traveling the next day and wanted to send the new cards to my destination--but I was going to the Outer Banks, and honestly didn't know my destination address. "Send them to my husband's office."

No cards arrived the next day, a Friday. I spent most of the weekend trying to call the supervisor. On Monday I got rather nasty when I received email notification that Amazon was gonna pull my latest purchase off my Kindle because the card had failed.  Finally I called the 800 number on the back of my (3x) expired card, explained what had happened, and was immediately patched thru to another supervisor. He said the card order had been cancelled (!) because I had not answered either of two calls from the fraud division to confirm that I had ordered cards sent to my husband's office. Um, even though I had TOLD them that I would be traveling. The order for the 4th replacement cards was issued.

The next day an overnight package arrived. A credit card. Mine only.  I had another exchange and ordered a card for my husband, who is traveling this week.

Next time, the company can pay the darn interest.

I left my children in the care of an axe murderer

Well, not quite. But after the long pause in my blog posts, I needed something to get your attention. In 2003, my spouse and I moved to Winston-Salem from the Triangle. We went back to visit soon after, and we left our young sons (then 2 and 4) with our dear friends' trusted housekeeper and regular sitter, Barbara.  After all, whom could we trust to watch 4 active boys while the adults went for dinner? 

My friends had recommended Barbara enthusiastically a few years before. I had her clean my house once or twice, but I worked from home and I was not impressed with her industriousness. Even though she was the darling of our supper club group, I never engaged her again except for that one night when she watched the boys.

About a year later my friend called.  "I just want you to know that I recommended Barbara to you, but my spouse and I have discovered that she has been embezzling from us. We have turned the matter over to the sheriff. You might want to check your financial records."  I thanked her for the call, and assured her that our finances were so tight at the time that I would have noticed $10 missing. Barbara had found their checkbook in the kitchen drawer and had been writing duplicate checks for her services for about two years. It was five-figure deal.

About two months later, Barbara made the news.  It seems another client noticed something missing. Elderly sisters residing at Farrington (south of Chapel Hill) apparently invited their neighbor over to serve as a witness when they confronted Barbara over missing funds.  Barbara beat the shit out of all three (with a cane, not an axe). The sisters later died, but their witness survived. Barbara had told the police that "a black man" had committed the mayhem.....a local school was in lock-down for hours because of this.

It came out in the court case that Barbara had previously embezzled from an elderly client. She had a criminal record, and a court order not to work or be unsupervised around the elderly. Did we check her background? No---she came highly recommended.

So there you have it. I left my children with a cane murderer. What does that say about me as a parent?

Filled with the family spirit

Do you know where you come from?  I did not grow up with extended family in my hometown, but we visited as often as we could. My parents had emigrated from central Georgia to western NC, via Tennessee, in the mid-1960s.  They, and their siblings, were the first generation to go far from home since my European ancestors hit this continent in the 1800s. But enough brothers and sisters and aunts and cousins remained in central Georgia so that everywhere we went, an older relative would introduce a complete stranger something like this: "This is your father's grandfather's brother's niece." And to them, "This is Gene and Beverly's girl."

So I have wonderful memories of Thanksgivings, Easters, and summer holidays in Georgia surrounded by tons of aunts, uncles, and cousins.  My mother is the youngest of six; my father is the second of four children. This holiday weekend we made the commitment to make the trek to central GA because BOTH sides of the family were having get-togethers. I was deeply regretting this decision in the wee hours of last Wednesday, when a stomach bug hit.  Then instead of packing in the late morning I had to spend two hours on a flurry of paperwork and money-transfer crisis to keep the new magazine on schedule. Ugghhh. But I was able to swallow enough immodium to set out on the 6 hour drive, which took us a mere 9 hours in holiday traffic. My dear husband drove until my eyes un-crossed.

But it was totally worth it. On Thursday we met at my mom's sister's lovely house on 100 acres. My kids remembered our visit there three years ago.  I had one aunt (Shirley) and two uncles (Ben and Glen) present, plus my parents, plus cousins (Sheila, Bill, Lisa, Craig, Chris, Susannah, Benjamin, John) and their spouses/children (Connie, Roy, Darriff, Angela, Annlee, Toby, Shianne, Rhett, Cam, and Hayden).  My boys had a BLAST playing with their cousins--no TV all day, and no one complained because they were engaged in bike races or treks thru the woods or target practice. Everyone brought food, from Turducken to a stuffed pork loin, from field peas to mac and cheese. My mom and Shirley had been in the kitchen the entire day before--and what a feast it was.

Then on Friday we went to a cane grinding hosted by relatives whose connectivity to me I still cannot trace. But the handsome farmer stirring the 55-gallon pot of boiling sugar cane syrup looked at me then broke into a huge grin when he saw my dad standing beside me.  "Knew that had to be Bevie's girl!" was his cheerful welcome.  We watched the cane process and the boys rode in the wagon behind the tractor to get more cane, in the rain, with big smiles. We dined on venison sausage and farm-raised beef (which the farmers simply call meat). My kids chewed on sugar cane stalks.

We visited Poplar Springs Methodist Church. All four of my grandparents are buried there. We buried my Grandmother Stewart there on a 100F+ day in August 2007 in her 90th year. Members of the tiny church opened the hall and fed us cookies and tea and lemonade. Also buried at Poplar Springs are six of my eight great-grandparents. My children were awe-struck to be standing beside the graves of great-great grands, until I took them to the grave of a great^5 grandfather, Redding Beasley.  More on him later. It is humbling to see the older generation go underground, one by one.  My grandmother Stewart was one of 16 children.  Two infant boys are buried there, and one other son died at 20 years, but the remaining 13 siblings ALL lived/are living past 80, and we visited the "baby" this morning. He retired 10 weeks ago! At almost 81! We drove past farms/houses that belonged to both sets of grandparents, two sets of great-grands, great uncles/aunts, and the site of the family reunion where I last saw my Pa Stewart alive, mere weeks before he died unexpectedly in his sleep in 1979. We saw the field that once held the house where my father was born, and the field that one held the house where my mother was born. We saw the church campground where my father first saw my mother in the summer of 1953. We passed the chapel that they married in, in 1958, on a June day so hot that the candles melted sideways.

Yesterday my father and his siblings got together, and so I was able to see Ann &Dee, Joye&Jerry, and Donna & David in the afternoon. Then my cousin Lisa had the whole crew over, and I was able to see Lisa and Roy, Angela, Annlee, Craig, Kyle, Chris, Cam, Hayden...wait, you say? wasn't this this same crew as Thursday? yes....I have "double first cousins" from the marriage of my father's older sister to my mother's older brother. In addition, we were joined by Aaron, Cori, Luke, Deacon and Kensley for another fabulous feast. Roy, Lisa's husband, was explaining the difference between first cousins and first cousins once removed (vs our less refined moniker of "second cousin").  I listend intently. Then I told Roy about our visit to Poplar Springs. And standing at the grave of Redding Beasley, who occupies 3 of the possible 16 great^4 grandfather slots on my family tree. And then I mentioned that because I'm his wife's double-first-cousin, zero times removed, the same is true for her!

Kaboom!

Last night was the Big Night! I've been working for about 3 months on bringing Doktor Kaboom! to Winston-Salem for a performance. I first noticed last spring that many of my high school friends were commenting on Doktor Kaboom on FB--and a discreet inquiry to a friend revealed that David Epley, NCSSM Class of 1985, had indeed morphed into Herr Doktor.

I serve on the board at SciWorks, and so I proposed a fall fundraiser that would be family-friendly: a Doktor K show in town.  So of course I'm asked to chair the committee. Many months and committee meetings and logistical details later, my dream came true. It was not without hitches: we didn't get the level of sponsorship we had hoped form, and on-line ticket sales were slow. The day was cold and dark and rainy.  Friends planning to attend from the Triangle had urgent issues that nearly or did prevent attendance.
 
So we went to Reynolds Auditorium, and the people came!  On-site ticket sales were robust--two lines, 10-15 people deep, for half an hour. And OH, what a SHOW! I had watched every video snippet, news cast, and web review of Doktor K, but NOTHING prepared me for the hilarity that ensued. The act was better than Toy Story--engaging for the kids, with lots of silly and sophisticated humor for the adults.

Several of our high school buddies came to the show, as did some of David's UNCG and Renaissance fair friends. As he put it, he was thrilled to have his science geeks, his theater geeks, and his ren geeks all under one roof. Thing 1 (who in all honestly was being assessed for his ability to launch things when we stopped by the auditorium during set-up) was selected as one of the first volunteers--the holder of the giant t-shirt "rocket" that looks EXACTLY like an enormous jock strap.

So today, I have the tired satisfaction and contentedness of one who has thrown a good party. There is still chaos in my life from other work neglected during the final rush for the show, but I can say for certain two things:
1) I'm proud of David and his work inspiring youth to DO science, and I'm glad I knew him when....and
2) I noticed that he is performing in Gastonia on January 17th. Road trip, anyone? 'Cause I will be there.

Kaboom!

Sold in Threes?

I can't figure out who would want to eat these. And I certainly can't figure out why they are sold in PACKAGES OF THREE???!!! (They are bull testicles).

Super G Mart

Super G Mart is a whacky Pan-Asian meets Pan-Latin market in Greensboro, NC. Interestingly enough, it is on.....drumrolll please.....Market Street!  I learned about it from my Vietnamese friend who taught me to make Pho.  Today I took the boys there to buy supplies for my upcoming supper club.  Look at all the spiny things! Wow!

The Mustache of Shame

This is Vivie. Vivie was digging in the yard. If you look carefully you can see the Mustache of Shame on her nose, just where the black nose meets the fur. Bad dog!