Obi-Wan is still in the hospital. Tomorrow (Monday the 31st) is a big day. His doctor along with some other specialist is supposed to come in and visit him. Both Obi-Wan and I suspect that amputation is the item slated for discussion. But we don't know for sure.
With Obi-Wan's permission, I plan to be present if possible. Unfortunately, doctors never give you a ballpark time frame of their visit in a hospital room. All you ever know is the day. It could be 6am or 11pm. But Obi-Wan's pretty sure it'll be in the morning, so I'm going to try to get there about 8 and serve as a second set of ears and ask any questions that Obi-Wan may forget to ask.
Of course...this visit could be a simple check-over and release. We don't know yet.
I cannot imagine the suspense he has laying in a hospital bed all weekend awaiting this "meeting". But he seems relaxed anyway.
*************************************
In a semi-related note...
Agent Wife and I watched a DVD called "Tuesdays with Morrie".
I wouldn't recommend it if you hate made-for-TV movies with predictable plots and Oprah's thumbs-up endorsement.
This was based on some popular book which was based on a true story. Go figure.
But much of the movie was almost identical to my friendship with Obi-Wan.
I could identify with the young character's progression throughout the story. Weird.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Fight the power
After a 3 month battle through the mail, I finally had my protest hearing for my property tax with the central appraisal district...and won.
This was the first time I've ever done something like this. I protested my property appraisal once before, but we settled through the mail. This time I went all the way to an actual hearing with the actual appraisal board.
Basically, the Central Appraisal District (CAD) was trying to con me into thinking that my house was the most valuable one on the block.
Bull shit.
The way it works: every year the CAD reviews every property throughout the county and determines what they think the properties are worth. Then they tax you, the owner. The more your property is worth, the more tax you pay. It's how they raise revenue. And I discovered that a property owner like myself can actually fight this. You have to, of course, do your homework and present yourself like a respectful human and not some tax-avoiding hill-billy.
I looked up the tax appraisals for 14 houses that surround mine on my street and did an average. Not only were they proposing that mine was the highest appraised (thus highest taxed) on the block, but mine was at least 24.4% above the average. On my block there are four houses larger than mine. So, square footage had nothing to do with their assessment.
Also, next door, the Sanford's house is valued the least. How can the most valuable property on the block (mine) be directly next to the least valuable (Sanfords)? In the real estate world, that is an oxymoron.
Then...there's a house across the street that is the exact same floor plan as mine...with the exception of an added bathroom. It's the EXACT same house as mine, but better. The house across the street should be valued the same if not a little more than mine. Their house was, in fact, valued at the average (24% less than mine). The difference being that I keep my yard mowed.
I guess lawn maintenance is equivelent to about $10K on a tax appraisal.
So I presented this reseach before the board, court reporter, the appraiser, and a handful of locals waiting their turn to protest.
I won.
I got exactly what I asked for. My appraisal now what I argued it should be.
All of this to say...I couldn't believe how easy it was to do this. If I can protest the tax appraisal of my house (and WIN), then anyone can do it.
Poor people own property too. Not real good ones. But taxable property none the less.
And all people's property assesment values go up every year at the whims of the appraisers, whether they're rich or poor. Thus, their taxes go up. Believe me...the Sanford's house went up like...$7000 this year. That was about 25% more from the previous year. Their house has not been improved upon at all. Certainly not $7000 worth.
Not only do they not realize they can protest this. They probably don't know it has increased and won't even know about it until they get their January 2007 mortgage payment when the new taxes go in effect. So it goes.
Plus, to protest, you really need quite a few middle-class social and educational skills. The Sanfords and the many like them don't have either.
So...yet another agent b conspiracy theory: the empire taxes the people who are least likely to notice and/or do anything about it.
This was the first time I've ever done something like this. I protested my property appraisal once before, but we settled through the mail. This time I went all the way to an actual hearing with the actual appraisal board.
Basically, the Central Appraisal District (CAD) was trying to con me into thinking that my house was the most valuable one on the block.
Bull shit.
The way it works: every year the CAD reviews every property throughout the county and determines what they think the properties are worth. Then they tax you, the owner. The more your property is worth, the more tax you pay. It's how they raise revenue. And I discovered that a property owner like myself can actually fight this. You have to, of course, do your homework and present yourself like a respectful human and not some tax-avoiding hill-billy.
I looked up the tax appraisals for 14 houses that surround mine on my street and did an average. Not only were they proposing that mine was the highest appraised (thus highest taxed) on the block, but mine was at least 24.4% above the average. On my block there are four houses larger than mine. So, square footage had nothing to do with their assessment.
Also, next door, the Sanford's house is valued the least. How can the most valuable property on the block (mine) be directly next to the least valuable (Sanfords)? In the real estate world, that is an oxymoron.
Then...there's a house across the street that is the exact same floor plan as mine...with the exception of an added bathroom. It's the EXACT same house as mine, but better. The house across the street should be valued the same if not a little more than mine. Their house was, in fact, valued at the average (24% less than mine). The difference being that I keep my yard mowed.
I guess lawn maintenance is equivelent to about $10K on a tax appraisal.
So I presented this reseach before the board, court reporter, the appraiser, and a handful of locals waiting their turn to protest.
I won.
I got exactly what I asked for. My appraisal now what I argued it should be.
All of this to say...I couldn't believe how easy it was to do this. If I can protest the tax appraisal of my house (and WIN), then anyone can do it.
Poor people own property too. Not real good ones. But taxable property none the less.
And all people's property assesment values go up every year at the whims of the appraisers, whether they're rich or poor. Thus, their taxes go up. Believe me...the Sanford's house went up like...$7000 this year. That was about 25% more from the previous year. Their house has not been improved upon at all. Certainly not $7000 worth.
Not only do they not realize they can protest this. They probably don't know it has increased and won't even know about it until they get their January 2007 mortgage payment when the new taxes go in effect. So it goes.
Plus, to protest, you really need quite a few middle-class social and educational skills. The Sanfords and the many like them don't have either.
So...yet another agent b conspiracy theory: the empire taxes the people who are least likely to notice and/or do anything about it.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Another one bites the dust
Pardon my cynicism. I couldn't think of a better title for this roast, ehhh...report. It's the phrase I often use when yet another young, talented, intelligent person and/or family in the fair mother city moves to the Dallas/Ft. Worth metroplex for greener pastures (figuratively and literally...it's dry and brown out west).
Agent S (aka the librarian) and his fine family are now Abilene's latest casualty to DFW. Today, they move east.
And who could blame them. Jobs in DFW actually pay real money as opposed to magic beans and good intentions. But then again...Agent S is leaving a librarian gig at a private university for another librarian gig at a different private university. Maybe in addition to better pay and a cost of living increase, those overlords at Dallas Baptist University might generously give Agent S some company time...TO BLOG. I mean, look man...I know you don't keep a computer at home. That's fine. I respect that. But this ONE POST a month stuff sucks. I mean hey...MY agent gig has several pockets of spare time throughout the day (OK...LOTS of spare time). So PLEASE give me something to read. I know you've got something to say.
Seriously, I have much to owe Agent S and his wife Leslie (yes, not her real name). First, this here pathetic blog of mine was about 90% inspired by What Holds On - a blog I stumbled across while doing a search on the downtown baptist beach head where I met Leslie during some ministerial contraband distribution. I eventually figured out that this blog was written by Leslie's husband so I chose the psudeonym "B", then later "Agent B" for commenting purposes. I didn't want them knowing I was the same guy who delivered food.
So basically, the agent b files is a mere spin-off series from Agent S's blog. But not as sucessful as "Joanie Loves Chachi".
Agent S and I finally met each other face to face about a year ago. We hung out over lunch (because he doesn't drink coffee...wussy) a few times and eventually our families gathered together as well. And I would have taken his invitation to join him in an overnight parking lot adventure at the new Chick Fil-A in hopes of being one of the first 100 customers to win 52 free meals. But somehow I knew he would be #106 and thus waste an evening of his existence. In the words of my favorite Simpson's character Nelson: HAW-ha.
Now he's leaving me. Because hey...this is all about me.
The Agent Network of the fair mother city is getting smaller and smaller. But I suppose the CEO has assignment changes for his agents from time to time. He's allowed that.
Agent S and his family probably could have moved to a modest yet comfortable neighborhood. But instead, they have chose to work with some ministry group that is somehow sponsoring them to live in a certain Dallas-area apartment complex. They will live in some sort of missional-type of role in the complex while serving their neighbors.
Go figure. That's so unlike him and Leslie.
Agent S's parting advice for the readers of this blog: "follow Jesus and do something daring with your life in his name. I stole that one from Shane Claiborne's Irresistible Revolution."
And his last quote for us here: "well ...[Agent B] has to be either the most ruthlessly trusting person I know or the most stubborn. Oh..you are roasting me. Got to go to another reception in my honor. I am about sick of all of these going away get togethers. If I have to eat another piece of cake.."
On behalf of the CEO's agents throughout the earth, we salute you (and Leslie and the kids)...with German Chocolate cake in hand.
Agent S (aka the librarian) and his fine family are now Abilene's latest casualty to DFW. Today, they move east.
And who could blame them. Jobs in DFW actually pay real money as opposed to magic beans and good intentions. But then again...Agent S is leaving a librarian gig at a private university for another librarian gig at a different private university. Maybe in addition to better pay and a cost of living increase, those overlords at Dallas Baptist University might generously give Agent S some company time...TO BLOG. I mean, look man...I know you don't keep a computer at home. That's fine. I respect that. But this ONE POST a month stuff sucks. I mean hey...MY agent gig has several pockets of spare time throughout the day (OK...LOTS of spare time). So PLEASE give me something to read. I know you've got something to say.
Seriously, I have much to owe Agent S and his wife Leslie (yes, not her real name). First, this here pathetic blog of mine was about 90% inspired by What Holds On - a blog I stumbled across while doing a search on the downtown baptist beach head where I met Leslie during some ministerial contraband distribution. I eventually figured out that this blog was written by Leslie's husband so I chose the psudeonym "B", then later "Agent B" for commenting purposes. I didn't want them knowing I was the same guy who delivered food.
So basically, the agent b files is a mere spin-off series from Agent S's blog. But not as sucessful as "Joanie Loves Chachi".
Agent S and I finally met each other face to face about a year ago. We hung out over lunch (because he doesn't drink coffee...wussy) a few times and eventually our families gathered together as well. And I would have taken his invitation to join him in an overnight parking lot adventure at the new Chick Fil-A in hopes of being one of the first 100 customers to win 52 free meals. But somehow I knew he would be #106 and thus waste an evening of his existence. In the words of my favorite Simpson's character Nelson: HAW-ha.
Now he's leaving me. Because hey...this is all about me.
The Agent Network of the fair mother city is getting smaller and smaller. But I suppose the CEO has assignment changes for his agents from time to time. He's allowed that.
Agent S and his family probably could have moved to a modest yet comfortable neighborhood. But instead, they have chose to work with some ministry group that is somehow sponsoring them to live in a certain Dallas-area apartment complex. They will live in some sort of missional-type of role in the complex while serving their neighbors.
Go figure. That's so unlike him and Leslie.
Agent S's parting advice for the readers of this blog: "follow Jesus and do something daring with your life in his name. I stole that one from Shane Claiborne's Irresistible Revolution."
And his last quote for us here: "well ...[Agent B] has to be either the most ruthlessly trusting person I know or the most stubborn. Oh..you are roasting me. Got to go to another reception in my honor. I am about sick of all of these going away get togethers. If I have to eat another piece of cake.."
On behalf of the CEO's agents throughout the earth, we salute you (and Leslie and the kids)...with German Chocolate cake in hand.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Obi-Wan update
Yesterday doctors told Obi-Wan that he'll get to come home in about 2 or 3 days. Of course, I'm not holding my breath. But this visit is looking like it'll be much shorter than his 3 week marathon earlier this year.
And any avoidance of amputation is a huge victory in my eyes. Thank you CEO.
Granted, Obi-Wan is 89 years old and a diabetic, so I'm sure the doctors are looking at amputation as an extreme last resort. But still...I'm thankful.
And any avoidance of amputation is a huge victory in my eyes. Thank you CEO.
Granted, Obi-Wan is 89 years old and a diabetic, so I'm sure the doctors are looking at amputation as an extreme last resort. But still...I'm thankful.
Monday, July 24, 2006
Scheming
Joined agent forces today with the Jack-of-all-trades. He's working on some sort of project involving Google Earth, his lap top, his old pickup, and mapping out various strategic and geographic places around the fair mother city involving the lost, faith communities, and etc. Perhaps he'll explain this better than I.
I got to go along for a ride to help Jack identify infamous homeless camps hidden amongst the mesquite brush along the seldom used north/south railroad. Ironically, we parked under the very bridge I was at earlier that morning with Uncle Kurt. Not exactly a place I go regularly.
Amidst the railway ties, concrete and scant vegetation we prayed, dreamed, and brainstormed. I mean really...just how rocket-science is it to come up with a way to support ourselves and our dreams?
I'm all for Jack's dream. He's devising a plan to create low cost housing for families such as single moms.
We've brainstormed a potential gig kin to Morris Ruddick's "Joseph/Daniel Calling" schtick - creating our own trade of sorts to support ourselves and fund these dreams...as opposed to "collection plate mentality" or finding a sugar-daddy.
Maybe more later. Stay tuned.
And if nothing becomes of today's events, at the very least I was highly encouraged. I needed that badly.
I got to go along for a ride to help Jack identify infamous homeless camps hidden amongst the mesquite brush along the seldom used north/south railroad. Ironically, we parked under the very bridge I was at earlier that morning with Uncle Kurt. Not exactly a place I go regularly.
Amidst the railway ties, concrete and scant vegetation we prayed, dreamed, and brainstormed. I mean really...just how rocket-science is it to come up with a way to support ourselves and our dreams?
I'm all for Jack's dream. He's devising a plan to create low cost housing for families such as single moms.
We've brainstormed a potential gig kin to Morris Ruddick's "Joseph/Daniel Calling" schtick - creating our own trade of sorts to support ourselves and fund these dreams...as opposed to "collection plate mentality" or finding a sugar-daddy.
Maybe more later. Stay tuned.
And if nothing becomes of today's events, at the very least I was highly encouraged. I needed that badly.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Return of Uncle Kurt
Recent days have been a deja vu of some needy times I lived through earlier this year.
In late February and eary March of this year, all of the outward signs of desperation were making themselves available. Obi-Wan had entered the hospital for what turned into a 3 week stay. We sold our beloved Sable. But our bright shining moment of joy in the darkness of need was a homeless man named Kurt, or renamed Uncle Kurt around our place.
Well, it's now July and here we are again in great need. Obi-Wan's back in the hospital. Yet, instead of selling a car, we received one. And today Uncle Kurt calls us out of the blue.
I have been wanting to find him for a while. But family visitors and AO2's birth was occupying my time. So I had planned to hunt him down next week.
Like old times, Uncle Kurt, AO1 and I visited Obi-Wan in the hospital tonight. Uncle Kurt must think he lives there.
Uncle Kurt and I tried to catch up on each others lives from the past few months. I've heard a few reports of his life from Agent S of the downtown baptist beach head. Uncle Kurt never made mention of these so I wasn't going to ask.
My favorite thing he said was of a dream/vision he had last week. This dream was of the izzy group ministry. He saw the izzy ministry located in the building I'd like to use for The Table (Uncle Kurt was present when I met the owner of that property last February). I was operating the dining hall, Agent Wife was doing something with a large group of little kids, The Bossman was doing something else in a different storefront, and there were tons of people. The cars were lined up and down the street.
When people share a dream they had of you, it's hard to take them seriously. But for years, the CEO has communicated to me almost exclusively through dreams (and I haven't had any dreams for months which is why I'm frustrated these days). So...I usually take note of dreams.
Especially ones from a homeless guy who seems to have no agenda.
In late February and eary March of this year, all of the outward signs of desperation were making themselves available. Obi-Wan had entered the hospital for what turned into a 3 week stay. We sold our beloved Sable. But our bright shining moment of joy in the darkness of need was a homeless man named Kurt, or renamed Uncle Kurt around our place.
Well, it's now July and here we are again in great need. Obi-Wan's back in the hospital. Yet, instead of selling a car, we received one. And today Uncle Kurt calls us out of the blue.
I have been wanting to find him for a while. But family visitors and AO2's birth was occupying my time. So I had planned to hunt him down next week.
Like old times, Uncle Kurt, AO1 and I visited Obi-Wan in the hospital tonight. Uncle Kurt must think he lives there.
Uncle Kurt and I tried to catch up on each others lives from the past few months. I've heard a few reports of his life from Agent S of the downtown baptist beach head. Uncle Kurt never made mention of these so I wasn't going to ask.
My favorite thing he said was of a dream/vision he had last week. This dream was of the izzy group ministry. He saw the izzy ministry located in the building I'd like to use for The Table (Uncle Kurt was present when I met the owner of that property last February). I was operating the dining hall, Agent Wife was doing something with a large group of little kids, The Bossman was doing something else in a different storefront, and there were tons of people. The cars were lined up and down the street.
When people share a dream they had of you, it's hard to take them seriously. But for years, the CEO has communicated to me almost exclusively through dreams (and I haven't had any dreams for months which is why I'm frustrated these days). So...I usually take note of dreams.
Especially ones from a homeless guy who seems to have no agenda.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Obi-Wan news
Obi-Wan was admitted to the hospital today. He's having the same issues with the circulation in his lower legs and feet. Supposedly, this is what most elderly diabetics go through.
We never heard the results from his tests a few weeks ago. Amputation was a possible outcome. And I suppose it could be a possible outcome in this hospital stay as well.
But he's as strong as ever.
I plan to see him every day .
We never heard the results from his tests a few weeks ago. Amputation was a possible outcome. And I suppose it could be a possible outcome in this hospital stay as well.
But he's as strong as ever.
I plan to see him every day .
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Testimony #015
Agent Wife and I may not know how we're going to pay for our freaking mortgage from month to month. But at least we can now travel.
We have a new car.
The Star Destroyer is a 2002 Lincoln Towncar with barely 30K on it. So...it's practically brand new and barely broken in.
It was my late grandfather's car. My dad and his siblings had planned to sell it and for whatever reason didn't. So my dad generously made it available for my family. I just returned from picking it up in Houston.
This is funny on many accounts:
- Towncars are generally associated with elderly retired rich people. I'm 35, have no money, and now have 2 towncars in my driveway (the Millenium Falcon is a '93 with 240K).
- As reported recently, the Millenium Falcon went down last Saturday. It's no big deal. It's just the alternator. But right then I couldn't even afford that. And it was our only car. But I've known of this potential deal with getting the '02 for about 2 weeks. There couldn't have been a better time for the Star Destroyer to come into my care.
These are miraculous yet weird times in the agent household. I'm thankful for them. And although I'm thankful for the generosity of my dad and the chain of events that lead to this, I have to give credit to the CEO of the universe. He is the provider of all.
We have a new car.
The Star Destroyer is a 2002 Lincoln Towncar with barely 30K on it. So...it's practically brand new and barely broken in.
It was my late grandfather's car. My dad and his siblings had planned to sell it and for whatever reason didn't. So my dad generously made it available for my family. I just returned from picking it up in Houston.
This is funny on many accounts:
- Towncars are generally associated with elderly retired rich people. I'm 35, have no money, and now have 2 towncars in my driveway (the Millenium Falcon is a '93 with 240K).
- As reported recently, the Millenium Falcon went down last Saturday. It's no big deal. It's just the alternator. But right then I couldn't even afford that. And it was our only car. But I've known of this potential deal with getting the '02 for about 2 weeks. There couldn't have been a better time for the Star Destroyer to come into my care.
These are miraculous yet weird times in the agent household. I'm thankful for them. And although I'm thankful for the generosity of my dad and the chain of events that lead to this, I have to give credit to the CEO of the universe. He is the provider of all.
Testimony #014
Through the generosity of anonymous individuals and various family members, Agent Wife and I have been caught up on bills.
I thank the CEO for this. However, I have grown weary of being a burden on others, even if they've shared without my begging.
I trust the CEO with all of my needs. He has always provided. However, this recent ordeal might have served as a wake-up call for me to find some kind of employment, be it full time, part time or temporary. The agent gig is not being abandoned. My dream for The Table still exists.
This could be like John 21 where those guys were throwing their nets over and over...then jesus shows up and says "good try. Now do it this way".
The last time I tried looking for employment the CEO shows up in my life and said "How about trusting me?" And I've more or less walked on water for the last 21 months.
So...I don't know what to make of our financial lack from early this month.
Time to go fishing, I guess.
I thank the CEO for this. However, I have grown weary of being a burden on others, even if they've shared without my begging.
I trust the CEO with all of my needs. He has always provided. However, this recent ordeal might have served as a wake-up call for me to find some kind of employment, be it full time, part time or temporary. The agent gig is not being abandoned. My dream for The Table still exists.
This could be like John 21 where those guys were throwing their nets over and over...then jesus shows up and says "good try. Now do it this way".
The last time I tried looking for employment the CEO shows up in my life and said "How about trusting me?" And I've more or less walked on water for the last 21 months.
So...I don't know what to make of our financial lack from early this month.
Time to go fishing, I guess.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Humbled
In recent days I have been at an all time low in my secret agent assignment.
Having unpaid bills pile up on my desk all while becoming a father again has its stressful moments.
Just when this season of lack seems to have hit rock bottom, it reaches new depths.
Our current (and only) transportation, the Millenium Falcon, is having electrical problems. The alternator seems to be going out. At least it ain't the hyper-drive.
I've never wanted to be one of those people who trust in the CEO one moment, then the second their refrigerator blows up they're blaming and cursing the CEO. Like he's in the business of destroying appliances or something.
When the Falcon showed no life signs, I didn't get mad at the CEO. He didn't do this. My car is old. That is the real culprit.
I did get discouraged over the Falcon. Highly discouraged. I feel like David in that I should write a "woe is me" Psalm. The kind that goes, "my world is falling apart. I have a new mouth to feed. Everyone is after me and I'm hiding in a cave. Poison arrows fly by my head. And my car won't run. Rescue me Lord".
Kind of sounds like a country song minus the beer, divorce, and dog getting run over.
But thankfully encouragement arrived in the form of The Bossman and later the Organic Guy showing up out of the blue to bring baby oriented gifts, food and blessings.
Thank you CEO. I will not take this for granted.
I despise coming across on this blog like a wounded little puppy. But I'm in need. I'm not wounded. Nor a puppy.
I ask for your encouraging prayers.
And I ask the CEO for a clear sign if I am to remain as an agent in this capacity (ie: send provision ASAP) or move on.
Perhaps not being able to pay bills is a clear sign...
PS - there may be more to report about our car situation later this week. Wait and see.
Having unpaid bills pile up on my desk all while becoming a father again has its stressful moments.
Just when this season of lack seems to have hit rock bottom, it reaches new depths.
Our current (and only) transportation, the Millenium Falcon, is having electrical problems. The alternator seems to be going out. At least it ain't the hyper-drive.
I've never wanted to be one of those people who trust in the CEO one moment, then the second their refrigerator blows up they're blaming and cursing the CEO. Like he's in the business of destroying appliances or something.
When the Falcon showed no life signs, I didn't get mad at the CEO. He didn't do this. My car is old. That is the real culprit.
I did get discouraged over the Falcon. Highly discouraged. I feel like David in that I should write a "woe is me" Psalm. The kind that goes, "my world is falling apart. I have a new mouth to feed. Everyone is after me and I'm hiding in a cave. Poison arrows fly by my head. And my car won't run. Rescue me Lord".
Kind of sounds like a country song minus the beer, divorce, and dog getting run over.
But thankfully encouragement arrived in the form of The Bossman and later the Organic Guy showing up out of the blue to bring baby oriented gifts, food and blessings.
Thank you CEO. I will not take this for granted.
I despise coming across on this blog like a wounded little puppy. But I'm in need. I'm not wounded. Nor a puppy.
I ask for your encouraging prayers.
And I ask the CEO for a clear sign if I am to remain as an agent in this capacity (ie: send provision ASAP) or move on.
Perhaps not being able to pay bills is a clear sign...
PS - there may be more to report about our car situation later this week. Wait and see.
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