Crappy Friday

This post may venture into the realm of TMI (as in "Too Much Information"), so read at your own risk, keeping in mind the limits of whining you're able to tolerate in one sitting.

Today sucked, rather royally....and there are so many aspects of it that I should be grateful for, yet I'm bitchin' nonetheless (which makes me feel worse, actually).

Ok.
So I agreed to work for a co-worker today in GI, which is great, but in order to do so, I screwed up my one and only prime opportunity to learn how to do Neuro. Picking up the shift meant that I would receive call in bonus $, and I would receive a substantial amount more than my base rate of pay.... which should make me happyhappyhappy ($4o some odd bucks an hour, yippieyahooey!) but, ungrateful whiner that I am, I'm just mopey.
Pay now or pay later has always been my motto... and I now have a deep feeling of dread that I may have gotten paid more now, only to be in great pain later when I am dying in Neuro all by my clueless self in a couple weeks. Shit!
My payback of the day, however, was that we were short staffed in GI, so my day was a tragedy of errors, starting early this am with a desperate, crabby mom and a horribly sluggish boy who didn't want to go to daycare. Mom was crabby with the poor daycare lady, skipped breakfast and coffee due to a lack of time (and I forgot a snack!), and hit the floor running on empty and ready to go back home and crawl back into bed.
I was sent home after the crazy morning rush at 1300, ready to get some house work done, only to find that Molly had shit neatly in a corner of her cage. She was shit-free for a brief, shining moment, but when she saw me she immediately started doing the happy dance in the poo, covering herself with it, and spraying it in every direction: all over my uniform, the cage, the carpet...Fuck. I managed to tie her outside to un-smear herself in the grass while I tried to extract the mess from the kennel.
That done, and after breaking my espresso carafe, I was near catatonic and ready to call it a day.
After an unsuccessful attempt to sleep my troubles away (a nasty sinus headache, a noisy, stinky puppy, and a couple mosquitoes made sure of that), I tried my best to drown my sorrows in chocolate. Sadly, no deal (I made chocolate chip cookie cupcakes... not bad, but ineffective as a mood elevator. Now I just feel like a fatty).
I finally broke down and tried my last resort: a bath to drown my sorrows in, which almost always makes me feel better. And wonder of all wonders, my husband, whom I have been crabbing about all week, came and surprised me with a glass of wine and an offer of help.
So, with his assistance, I am now scrubby clean and feeling a million times better, and even though I am moving into a hell week to surpass all hellish weeks, things are looking rosier. Or at least, less suicidal. Well, slightly less.

Sex. The fantastic cure-all. I highly recommend it.

Yikes...

The first day back at "real" work is always the hardest... but Neuro is a logistical nightmare! The staff training me started work this morning at 6 am, and was "thrilled" to be getting out of there as early as she did (which was just shy of 6 pm). Ack! I'm already feeling oppressed, and I've only been back one day. Boo.
Camp called today, too, and wants me to work as much as I can next week, which will be primarily comprised of working my ass off in GI in the am, Neuro in the PM, and then driving off to camp for the night-- and who knows if I'd sleep or not, depending on what the kids are doing. Um... I don't think it'll work out. I feel sick and exhausted just thinking about it.
They also want me to work the first week of the 2 week session I'm helping out with, but I really don't want to do that, either. I want my life back, with my kids and my husband. I want to take a cheesy vacation, even if it means I have to cook my own food and clean up every once in a while.
Fuck! I'm bummed.
If God wanted me to work sooooooo hard at my places of employment, He wouldn't have given me a family that can barely keep themselves fed and alive in my absense-- right?

Bye, Bye, Baby:

I'm going to miss my Gracy Pants. I remember when she was a tiny little baby, just like it was yesterday... and now she's practically grown, training to be a counselor, and gone for the next 4 weeks. Getting old is hell... (tee hee)

UPDATE: Allright... I guess I'm not the only one who's going thru Gracy withdrawal. Her poor, beleaguered boyfriend has called me **3** times in the past 14 hours to check if I've seen her or talked to her, which he knows is fairly impossible.
I told him I'd try to sneak him in tonight for a few minutes, but I know I could get all of us in a heap o trouble.... it'll be like the underground railroad of teen angst. I remember, tho, what it was like to be in the fresh bloom of young love, all those many years ago (not like the crusty, ant bitten love of middle age).

Ants!

Ok. It's 5:30 in the morning and I was just awoken, in my own bed, covered with biting ants. I think I was bitten on my freaking eyelid, for God's sake...
For some reason only beknownst to the ants, there was a mass migration from under the house by the back patio to parts north. Millions and millions of ants covered the patio.
Poor little Molly was standing by the back door waiting to get in, covered herself with ants, and then jumped into bed with me (thanks, Jake!). When I finally awoke from a deep sleep, itching and crushing ant bodies, screeching "WTF?!?", my oh so sweet husband calmly announced: "they're ants, and Molly's covered with them" (and now, so are you).

While I escaped with only a handfull of bites, Molly writhed and howled for a good 10 minutes.
Now I'm fully awake, 2 hours earlier than intended, having swept a gagillion ants to their oblivion off the patio while nursing my swollen and misshapen eyelid. I'm starting to look like a freak, and it's sure to be another interesting day in the country.

An illustration of me in bed, thanks to Natalie Dee:
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

UPDATE: Last night, as Jake was getting into bed, he stepped in a large puddle of pee with his socks on. Thanks, Molly, you rock! It's not exactly the ant bite to the scrotum I was hoping for, but it was a nice, unexpected surprise.

I'm Baaaaaaack!

My week at camp sped by lightning fast; I can hardly believe I was there and back, even tho I'm bone tired and mentally whipped from the chaos of the past few days.

It seemed like every time I gave myself the slightest opportunity to relax, some life-threatening emergency (or seemingly life threatening emergency...) was unfolding before me:

A late night anaphylaxis (or head cold, as I soon discovered; but the poor kid still almost got epi-penned by his traumatized counselor before he was dropped off at the Nurse's station-- wahoo!), an early morning bloody mess (is it ever appropriate to apply makeup before dashing out the door to get a kid off for stitches? While the thought crossed my mind, noooo...... I only applied a haphazard smear of lipstick before running out with my first aid kit), and an evening mystery accident involving an embarassed pre-teen boy, 3 different versions of what occurred, and a gaggle of crying counselors.

It was a relatively quiet camp, tho, with only 120 kids and 124 different medications (some given up to 4 times a day! Better living thru chemistry, I guess... poor little critters. What makes a parent put their 10 year old on 4 different psych meds? A wild parenting fantasy gone amuck? SPS {Stupid Parent Syndrome}?)

As usual, my assistant was incredibly helpful; God bless the fresh, uncluttered mind of youth. That girl has saved me from embarassment more times than I can count, considering she can remember not only the daily schedule but kids' names, medication times and the last thing our boss told me to do 15 minutes ago.

I have to tell you, though: for all it's foibles, camp is the greatest job I've ever had:

I have a dinky quarters to keep for my very own (easy to keep clean, and no one to care if I don't), a private bathroom, my own office, beautiful surroundings, delicious meals I only have to *show up* for-- and best of all, the peace of mind knowing my kids are off having a fantastic time with new friends and adult role models, doing things I could never expose them to due to lack of time, funds, or ability. Plus, there's nary a couch or computer game to be found, and I'm hoping the repetitive busy-ness will drive the urge to vegetate from their DNA. I also greatly enjoy the daily reminder that my kids are low on the Goofy Kid spectrum, and that I am only *marginally* on the SPS list, in the grand scheme of things.

I survived, my kids survived (Jacob had a wicked case of "I'm not eating enough fiber", if ya know what I mean...)-- and sans a broken collarbone, 6 stitches, and 3 cases of pink eye, everyone else survived as well. Halleulah!

Beer Margaritas from the Food Network

I am always on the lookout for new and enticing ways to send me to my "happy place" (aka after one drink). Jake and I checked out a fabulous restaurant a while back that had margaritas made with beer; this is the closest I've found to the nummy recipe, and far more economical than the $7 a pop restaurant variety:

1 lime, cut into 8 wedges 1/4 cup coarse salt
2 (12-ounce) bottles your favorite beer (I used Leinenkugel's Summer Shandy), chilled 1/2 cup frozen concentrate limeade, thawed
1/2 cup chilled tequila
Ice cubes

Rub lime wedges around rims of 4 margarita glasses. Dip rims into salt to coat lightly. In a medium pitcher, combine beer, limeade, and tequila. Fill prepared glasses with ice, then with margarita mixture. Garnish with remaining lime wedges. Serve immediately.

Yee Ha!

UPDATE:
I'm not sure if it's the combination of beer and tequila, but these pack a nasty hangover, even after only 2. I still have a headache, 2 days later. Boo.

Daycare Dilemma

I have so much on my mind right now: with all the changes summer brings, and my lack of preparedness for it, it's no wonder I'm in a funk.
I am so glad for Grace, that she gets the opportunity to be gone for 5 weeks and learn and grow with what truly are her closest friends. But I have no childcare for a month, and I'm not sure what to do.
I initially thought that Jacob could stay home by himself for a few hours in the morning, since he's almost 10 and I usually get let go from GI at around 1-1:30 (sometimes earlier). But now Neuro wants me to come after I get let go from GI, which throws a big ole monkey wrench into the mix. I had to tell them today that I have no childcare and they weren't too happy about it, and I don't blame them a bit.
Jacob's best buddy is at his grandma's next door every day now too, which at first you think is nice, but then you realize that having 2 little monkeys in your house unsupervised (I'm sure they'd be here-- grandma does not watch the kids AT ALL), in the pool by themselves, letting the puppy out alone (the kids wouldn't watch the puppy)... I just don't think that I'd be able to function at work.
For a moment, I though about asking the grandma to watch Jacob at her house, but when I really got to thinking about it, it seemed like a bad idea: Grandma doesn't cook or feed any of the children in her house-- Jacob's buddy often wanders over here at mealtime in search of food. There is no end to the number of shady characters who hang out at that house; grandma had 13 kids and I think quit raising them after #5 or 6-- one of the adult children who lives there has a toddler she lets run while she sleeps all the time... turns out she is addicted to heroin and has her druggie boyfriend living there as well. Bleck. So bad, bad idea. I told my husband that I just couldn't forgive myself if anything went wrong while Jacob was there, since there were SOOOOOOOO many red flags. I think my husband understood.
Which leads me to a very important point: why is this MY problem, finding daycare every time it is needed? My husband is counting on my working, yet he has never in his life concerned himself with these important details. Yes, it's great if your kid can grow up and not be molested or abused by freaky people, but sadly, this takes a bit of planning beyond just leaving your kid home alone or in the care of the town outcasts.
My husband seemed surprised that I even wanted to talk about it, as if he somehow should be: a) involved in any way, and b) concerned in any way. Ohwell.
I think the grand outcome of this dilemma is that I won't be working so much this summer, which of course, since our finances are separate, will only affect *my* spending power... I think I'm really growing to like hot dogs, tho. On-Cor family entree, anyone?
And I'm sure you're thinking, "why don't you put your precious little critter into daycare--duh?" Well, I thought about it... but with daycare, you have to pay a $75 registration fee, give them set days/hours (which I can't do since my job is flexible), pay for times you get cancelled, and last but not least, because Jacob doesn't want to go and he will be miserable. Oh, and I only need it for a month and daycare doesn't work that way.
So there you have it, poverty in a nutshell.
Jake did agree yesterday that I could just work GI for the summer, so I'll see how accomodating he is with paying for stuff he doesn't want to. The guy's working 6 9 hour days/week-- he should be rolling in the overtime dough. So ante up, buddy!

Strawberry Rhubarb Pie

We had an abundance of strawberries explode from the teeny tiny plants we put in the coop garden last year; I am harvesting up to 5 pounds every other day! In honor of my overwhelming, bountiful crop of both strawberries and rhubarb (the first year's harvest, too), I made my favorite pie recipe, adapted from one I found years ago on the All Recipes site:

INGREDIENTS
Filling:
1 recipe pastry for a 9 inch crust pie
4 cups diced rhubarb
3 cups sliced fresh strawberries
1 1/2 cups white sugar
6 tablespoons quick-cooking tapioca


Crumb Topping:
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup white sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup butter

DIRECTIONS
Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Line a pie pan with bottom crust.
Mix together rhubarb, strawberries, orange zest, 1 1/2 cups sugar, and tapioca. Spoon into crust.
For crumb topping, combine flour, 1 cup sugar, and salt. Cut in butter or margarine until mixture is crumbly. Spoon over filling. Bake on a parchment lined baking sheet at 400 degrees F (205 degrees C) for 10 minutes. Reduce heat to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C), and bake for an additional 35 minutes. (I had to bake mine for at least an hour-- my pies were deep-dish, and overfilled!)

Saturday:

With the exception of the few CD's my daughter glommed off me and left with her BF, my entire musical life history is now recorded onto my MP3 player; I can't believe it all fits! There are quite a few more things I'd like to load, like my Django Reinhardt, but I have 5 CD's and I have no idea what to pick. And of course, there are tons of songs I'd like to BUY (like Peter Murphy's "Cuts You Up", a couple Nitzer Ebb songs, etc), but so far, so good. I'm fairly happy with what's being pumped into my ears-- "Burning Down the House" (Talking Heads) and previously, "Close to Me" by the Cure. Listening to the Cure brings me back to those incredible days with my very first boyfriend-- it's funny how you can relive a moment long past just by hearing a song.

The new tipi is offically up and informally blessed;

the sleepover guests (yes, two showed up somewhat unannounced. How wierd. But Jacob was thrilled, and we are glad to have them! Just look at those smiles:)

And I cleaned the house, top to bottom, with many forgotten chores attended to: dusting, vacuuming behind couches, mopping, organizing, et al. I'm feeling the need to get things in order (music collection included) before I'm off to camp, and the summer cruises by in a cluttered, dirty haze. It felt really good to get everything good and clean (altho I almost killed all the carnivorous plants and orchids in the process-- don't ask!), and our lives in order. The calla lilies just opened and look lovely, as always:

Friday, Creature of the Night:

And so it has come to pass that I have become a creature of the night; I am exhausted all day, and then when the temerature drops, I regain my energy and try to play catch-up with everything I left undone.
I got my new MP3 player in the mail today, so I spent the better part of the afternoon downloading each and every favorite song from my entire life onto the player-- it's like the ultimate mixed tape, only instead of spanning the music of your 15 year old self, it's from forever: music I loved as a little kid, teenage angst music, hippie days music, grown up music... (but which is which? It's hard to tell). There is so much in the common world that I just learning about, like MP3 players; mysteries abound, much excitement... now if I could only stay awake for it!

Hump Day

It's a sleepy hump day, and despite tea and coffee and drinking lots of water, I just can't shake this sleepy lethargy that has settled upon me. I took a Benadryl last night so I could crash HARD, I'm guessing it may be why I couldn't wake up today...

Funny, you create a mini vacuum in your life and oftentimes something rushes to fill the void: I worked my last day (last few days? one never knows..) in Kenosha, and lo and behold, my Burlington boss asked me this am if I wanted to cross-train to help in Neuro. Sure, why not? Neuro is not my favorite, but it'll give me extra hours closer to home... how cool is that? And here I was, fretting about my impoverished state-- I didn't even make it one day! Well, someone's looking out for me, that's for sure...
There's a super-fine line between being a woman of leisure (aka, woman who stays home enough to keep her house from becoming a sickly pig sty) and a woman who's broke-- we've always maintained our financial independence in our marriage, so unless I want to eat ramen noodles and shop only at Love, Inc (the local thrift shop), I have to work just enough to maintain my bank account AND my sanity, which roughly translates to about 3 days/week.
P.S. The tipi arrived today! However, it sounds like Jacob's party won't be very well attended, boo. I guess we are doomed to roam the earth as loners, whine whine whine. It's really too bad for Jacob, tho, he was looking forward to it.
UPDATE 12:18 am:
Well attended, my booty... NO ONE can come to Jacob's party. Poor, poor little guy! I'm really bummed:-(

I made THREE strawberry rhubarb pies tonight, and I'm still waiting for the 3rd one to come out of the oven... tasty, yummy stuff. I'm feeling self-destructive, and could eat one all by my lonesome, they're that good. I thought I'd bring one to work tomorrow, but I'm guessing the ladies are getting tired of my feeding them sweets, and who could blame them?

Little Miss Molly had the most awful day today: she pooped in her cage, peed in the house 3 times, tried to throw herself in front of a dumptruck (taking YEARS off my life, no doubt) and then got a taste of the mean ole shock collar; I set the amps to the lowest setting (I think it was 5), and she responded well. She got shocked for leaving the yard, chasing the chickens, and not coming when called. I know, I'm a Nazi, but I rationalize that if she learns not to leave the yard, she'll stay alive a lot longer (the dumptrucks travel on the service road all day, all week long, 100+ per day sometimes..), and a shock is a small price to pay for a long, happy life of belly rubbing.
Life is good, but I've been crabby almost all week long. Wah! for me. I think I need more pie-- now where's that ice cream?

Last Day at Work:

So here I am, my last day working (to my knowledge) the job I was pondering leaving the other day-- things move fast 'round here, you really have to pay attention!

Nothing makes me feel naughtier than blogging at work, as if I had something better to do at the moment... there's a gaggle of nurses hiding in a corner having a bitch fest about their co-workers right now, burning their own time, so I don't feel too bad.

So I'm all set to be broke, and since I scarfed a cinnamon bar, a muffin, 1/2 brownie and 1/2 doughnut throughout the day (I can hardly believe it myself!) I'm prepared to be obese as well. Good thing I'm going to the gym today; here's hoping I can burn some of those calories. I could probably skip dinner, too, and be none the worse for it.
Get this: I can blog while I'm here-- but I can't read the blog; it's blocked. How goofy is that?
More later:
OK, it's Later, 9:03 PM:
I did that stupid pet owner thing tonight, you know that thing where you step in a fresh pile of dog poop and then track it all through the house? I could have slapped myself. I scrubbed the poop-tracks and then furiously tried to get the doo out of the crevices in my shoe so I wouldn't make Jacob late for swim class. The bad thing was that I could smell the poo the whole time I was exercising; I kept looking, saw nothing, but could still smell it. Maybe it was a "phantom" poo smell from guilt at wearing poop shoes to the gym. Nas-tay~! They're the only shoes I have, tho, that don't make my feet numb when I do the elliptical...
Speaking of stupid dog tricks, obviously Gracy pants wasn't, ahem, watching the dog too carefully when she tied poor Molly outside this afternoon. When I got home from work, Molly had apparently knocked a potted tree over, leaving a huge dirt mess all over the patio (Grace claims she "cleaned it as best she could!", god help us all...), jumped up on the picnic table, destroying the new potted succulents I just bought, and somehow ripped a whole branch off my new, expensive Japanese maple tree I planted the other day.
All this mess so Grace could be fondled by her boyfriend, undisturbed by a puppy.
Children are evil.... and Grace must pay, oh! How she'll pay, mwaaaa ha haaaa (insert evil laugh here)!

Sunday, June 3rd:

I couldn't sleep after 4:30 am, who knows why, maybe the song birds were especially loud this morning-- but I suspect it's because I have a couple things on my mind these days, and I'm trying to make some decisions about this summer...

So, thus far in the morning, I have:
weeded the gardens, paid my astronomical credit card bill (I pay for everything I can with my Discover Card so I can track my monthly purchases *and* get a huge cashback at the end of the year), did some budgeting (ack!), smudged the house (before church, no less. I just like the smell, it reminds me of the desert), and pondered my fate, all somewhat simultaneously.

I had THE most wonderful time with my friend Laurie yesterday, I'm hoping she wasn't bored with all my tours and stories. I loved checking out the shops downtown, the Jasmine Tree reminds me of who I used to be when I was young and carefree...
Speaking of which, I cleaned out my records box the other day, and found some old pay stubs from when I was in nursing school working in Cardiac as a Nurse Tech. It was the most physically demanding and stressful job I've ever had (even more than planting cabbage and weeding acres of farmfield), and I was paid a whopping $7 an hour. And I'm sure with my hopeful, young mind, I thought that wasn't bad. Of course, being a fully fledged grownup these days and therefore miserable and malcontent, now that I make $20 more an hour, I find it ironic that I am often lamenting my poor state. I am probably short about $500 this pay period, which freaks me out, but I have to keep reminding myself that I recently purchased a puppy and paid expensive vet bills, which is why it appears that I have less $ in my account today.

That said, I am in the throes of trying to decide if I should leave one of my positions, the one that is the farthest away and pays less than my Burlington job. It's quite a distance, 60 miles round trip, which is the biggest drawback-- the staff is ok (Laurie is fab-u-lous!), I like my boss, the job isn't too bad (dull at times, but I suppose that never killed anybody). I just want to simplify my life, especially for the summer, even if it means that I'll be a little broke.
But broke=scary, and I'm not sure if I have the guts to take the plunge. I think I told Laurie yesterday that sometimes you can't look a gift job in the mouth, especially someone with my crazy work history.

I have a full day ahead of me; I'm a little anxious, as I'm sure there's shopping needed today, and I'm hoping I can put the day to good use. With summer and camp fast approaching, there's few days ahead to enojy the cooler weather to get work done, and less time to play. I'd love to take the train to Chicago and check out the CSI exhibit before we head to camp, but I know it won't happen. I'm trying to wrap my brain around being away from Gracy Pants for 5 weeks~ I know she'll come home a new girl, I hope it's one that will be ok with the less expensive schooling option.
UPDATE 8:59 pm:
We had two brief storm showers today, and combined with the soakers we've had recently, we've discovered that all the asparagus patches have finally sprouted!
So, if all goes well, we should have our very own asparagus ready in the next couple years-- asparagus that is growing freely in the prairie, where interlopers can't get at it:-)
The day went much faster than I expected, but we were able to wrap up a few more projects before the great summer of lounging begins:
We finished the walkway to the chicken coop! Jake installed a fan formation of bricks at the very end, which looks slightly primitive and very cool. Little did we know, we purchased some sort of polymeric sand, which, if I had thought for 2 seconds about it, I would have realized was something a wee bit more than ordinary sand... we used it fairly incorrectly, and hopefully when the sand settles, we don't have nasty clumps of plasticized sand everywhere.
Jake bought me a very nice little retro patio table; it's lime green and makes me smile whenever I see it. Plus, it holds the strawberry margaritas I made from our very own strawberry patch, harvested just this morning, keeping me from spilling on myself when the tequila kicks in..
We fixed the impromptu "pet escape hole" in the screen door, the one the cat made but all pets enjoyed. We used this HEAVY DUTY screening that was almost impossible to squeeze into the channel in the frame-- what joy it gave us as we watched each pet figure out that their escape route was closed off. One animal even tried to walk through it without even noticing the hole was gone, haw haw! Even Charlie cat was perplexed, as he furiously tried to claw a new hole in vain-- ah! To be entertained so cheaply... but I'm sure Charlie is already sharpening his claws and planning his next jail break.
I planted at least 100 grape muscari bulbs and 25 tulip bulbs back into the coop garden, when it was too damn hot to be doing any such thing, and scattered some alyssum and zinnia seeds just about everywhere (and I transplanted the cactus into a patch of dirt by the gravel-- Joanna's looks so robust in her gravel patch; hers even flowers and is gigunda, unlike my 1/2 dead plants), and made some pretty crappy fajitas. Boo for crappy dinners.

End of a Saga?

We had a fantastic thunderstorm tonight, complete with high winds and lightening; I can't wait to see the plants tomorrow, and see if they've greened up with the discharge of nitrogen into the atmosphere.
I heard back from the landscapers yesterday, and they aren't planning on offering any compensation for the damage to our property or for the poor quality topsoil; pfft!
I'm guessing , from a legal standpoint (my dad was an attorney, Assistant DA to be precise, and the law has always fascinated me), the Landscapers realize that:
a) if they compensate me for the cost of the soil, they are beholden to compensate all the other customers who received the soil as well, and
b) if they refund my money, it may be considered an admission of guilt, which would open them up for further liability for the repair of our lawn.

One of our Doc's wife is an attorney, and I will be consulting with her if the Landscapers give me any further grief about the photos and description of the damage from my other blog-- I have to say, though, what a Pandora's box they would open, if they decided to pursue legal action!
Once the media got hold of the story (I have friends in the media as well), all the elderly and professional folks who would be far more disinclined/unable to go to the trouble to fix their properties would be *horrified* to find out that a company did this to unsuspecting people, and had no intention of fixing it. Everyone who has seen the photos has been APPALLED, almost to a surprising degree, at the damage and the company's response; I wonder what the public at large would think?
Reasonable amount of damage for one small load of dirt? I think not. But he incredible contentment I would feel at telling the news media about how the driver was instructed to turn around on the driveway, and he still chose to wreck our lawn, knowing full well, according to the owner, the damage he would cause-- and the company insists I told him to do it! Ah yes, I enjoy little more than having to stress and toil like a dog for two weeks to fix the ruts, as if I have nothing better to do. Would the driver have pulled that trick with an elderly woman, who would not have had any ability or resources to fix the damage? After this experience, I certainly hope not. The report with the Better Business Bureau will stand, and I hope beyond all hope that people will check with them before hiring ANY company to do work for them; I know with absolute certainty that I will.