Tag Archives: safety

Security

We live in a place where my husband can be away on business all week. He wants to make sure that I am safe, as is dog Zoe. Perhaps once a year she gets something dead and ugly from the park (only when she’s on a 16′ leash and he’s on his cell) and has to vomit at 2:00 in the morning.

Security knows to call 911 or come find me if Zoe and I are not back in five minutes. That means when we return I can decide whether, not or what to feed her after her morning walk.

It means we’re safe. That and a stick under our door makes me feel better and be able to lift Zoe to the bed and sleep. Zoe is not a lap dog but is a herder and she guards the perimeters from her beds and lookout positions, depending upon where her “pack” is.

All Zoe can do is bark and she does not do so often. A two year-old could reach out for her food and she’d just look longingly at me asking Mommy, can I have some more? If someone is trying to break in, I get my phone and call 911. i just know to have our plans in place. My husband’s are better but he’s not around most times. Be safe out there! Dee

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Blame

We have had someone burglarizing forty floors of residents and the only thing the management office could do is send out an email, blaming us.

There are glaring errors in security here. I told them about the most vulnerable points of access. I walk our dog several times a day and know the neighborhood. When the wind comes up and the weather turns bad I look into other entrances to our place.

Why blame us? It is lack of security. The email should have said they were sorry and everything is being done to assure safety in our homes. Instead they tell us we are at fault and here is what we need to do.

There’s a new adminstration here and this is not a good sign. If my husband is traveling for work and doesn’t think I and our great dog Zoe are not safe, we will not live here anymore.

Thirty days notice. Women and retirees in this place do not feel safe. Do not blame us for break-ins, blame your lame security devices/access points and staff who don’t watch the cameras. We’ll just leave, and when we leave, many others will as well. Dee

ps All the dog owners in the neighborhood don’t call me Aunt Dee for nothing. I got a crosswalk installed and re-painted two years later. No-one stops. But the city owned one side and county the other and I got them to work together for change.

101, not Dalmations

Things To Do.

Last night we had tornado warnings. We cannot get into our garage because of re-surfacing as that would be the best place to go. Dog Zoe was sound asleep after I lifted The Hipless Wonder up to the bed but there was this strange lightning and I could hear the wind.

My husband called from Maine, knowing I couldn’t get to the garage and while I suggested the back bathroom or hallway, he insisted on the stairwell.

Early this morning it’s very cloudy but the Lake looks clear. The second wave of thunderstorms missed us. Dog Zoe is behind me on the futon. It’s not officially “time” (to go out) yet.

Now is a time for good neighbors. Unfortunately one of ours has passed at a young age. A Marquette player and community benefactor, Marc Marotta died of a brain aneurism. He lived here. Yes, I’ve seen him and spoken with him but never really knew who he was. He had the air of someone who thought I should know, but while I admire athletes I do not adore them or keep track.

Now we’re looking at places that get way more tornadoes, severe storms including hurricanes. Why should I worry? My husband and dog slept nine hours through Hurricane Ike, a Cat 5. I sat by our windows and blogged it until the power went out. We spent the morning draining the garage, unblocking storm drains and knocking on everyone’s door to make sure they were OK because management didn’t show up for days. Yes, days.

Well, now we do have a hurricane kit. It’s in storage and we only have access to that for certain hours. Food, crank radio, you name it, it’s in there. Time to replenish if we’re looking at the Eastern seaboard. All for now, friends – Dee

ps My husband is flying in tonight and I have more than 101 things to do. No garage means no trash and I’ve salmon skin fermenting. Not good for a guy who’s allergic to fish.

Tendencies

Over thirteen years ago my husband and I met. He’d gotten into dot-com and had just been dot-bombed. The board of a 60 person corporation met and left their agenda on a white board for all staff to see. The final item was lay off 1/3 of the staff.

Of course he was one of the last 20 hired so he hung around a couple of weeks, looking for work, but knew it was unlikely to find as fellow dot-coms were sinking as well. That’s when we met.

Two weeks later I visited his “man cave” knowing he’d have to go back to family to reassess his opportunities. I immediately ended the clean pile/dirty pile laundry “system” and washed and dried and organized everything. Come on, the only things in his frig were individually wrapped string cheese and a 72 oz. Dr. Pepper. The freezer held one store-bought microwave lasagne left by his mother three months earlier.

Yes, the string cheese wrappers were on the rug from the frig to his home-built dual-brained computer, in front of blackout shades because the man cave was five feet from the mail boxes looking out on a parking lot and he liked to work in his underwear.

A few days later I helped him pack, everything was organized so it was easy. Then after he left me forever I paid money I didn’t have to give for maid service so he’d receive his deposit. He returned to me in two weeks with a job in town. When a neighbor asked why he came back, my husband of nearly 12 years said, “her.”

We now have views wherever we live, nice furniture and artworks, and have been able to keep a dog alive and happy for nearly eleven years. Plants, not so much.

As we hit another crossroads I must say that I went on strike shortly after we moved in. My husband was urged to take the larger place and move all of our furnishings out of three years in storage halfway across the country. Shortly after we moved in, things changed but that’s another story.

He is in a good situation and I am emptying boxes and discarding, donating, storing or shredding. Also taking art off the floor, that has been covered in towels, and placing it on the walls.

He says I’m “nesting.” I say I’m getting stuff off the floor. What I see, I can pack. Same as 13 years ago when I helped you move away from me forever, but now we’re married.

Two pieces have made me at home during his absence due to a contract in another state. Ten years ago I was told about a consignment store in Texas and looked at a piece of furniture that might have been suitable for bedroom or dining room. I opened the top drawer to see if the joints were dovetailed and lo and behold, there are two lithographs of Tuscan sites. Two dollars a piece. I took them home immediately, the lithos, not the furniture. A $4 find.

After $250 of matting and framing as of last week they are on the wall next to our bed. Two years with a white primer-ed wall, several months without a husband and they close the room in a bit and make me feel safe.

Tonight my husband made sure I have reservations at a hotel en route to see him and his family for Thanksgiving. I’m bringing a lot of food and gifts and looking forward to seeing everyone. Dog Zoe has an excellent sitter, and my standards for her care are high. I expect that she’ll come to the door, turn around and lie down and mumble, “Glad you’re home, Mom, I’m going to nap now.” That’s how my grandfather would have said “Yeah, I missed you but had a great time.”

Lots of stuff to do before I hit the road and my hotel. Dog food, cleaning, packing, dog bath, remembering all the frozen food. And loading the car without the dog knowing I’m leaving. Hmmmm. Any ideas? Cheers and Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours. Dee