Odessa

Greenpoint is a community Brooklyn, NY. They have the best Polish food you are going to find on this side of the Atlantic. You hear Polish when you walk down the street. Also, a large portion is very industrial. They stand in the shadow of NYC's main sewage treatment plant. They are home to many large distributors and have many trucks running up and down their streets, frequently blocking in them.

Standard Oil (grand pappy to all the big league oil companies now) and some of its offspring leaked, spilled, etc, about 18 million gallon of petroleum products. There is a layer of oil floating on the groundwater that is several feet thick in some places. The "big three", are extracting the goop, and they have gotten out more than 9 million gallons so far. Exxon-Mobil is considered the largest contributor.

There have been some vapor problems in a nearby commercial area. However, no one knows if vapors from this goop are getting into peoples homes. State agencies have been trying to get into peoples homes to do the testing to find out, but people were reluctant to let Exxon-Mobil in their homes, even under close scrutiny. The standard operating procedure would have been to give Exxon-Mobile the opportunity to hire someone themselves. The state decided to do the sampling themselves to try to get over the hurdle of the community's discomfort with Exxon-Mobil. Exxon-Mobil wasn't being all that cooperative on other issues, anyway. (The state had recently negotiated agreements on other issue with BP-Ammaco and Chevon.)

Getting the sampling done is a good thing. The community is cautiously happier. Now it will be interesting to see if Exxon-Mobil pays the bill from the sampling in homes willingly or makes the State of New York fight them for it. Also, if any additional work needs to be done to keep vapors out of peoples house, whether they will do it. That is a long way down the road, but it will be interesting. I certainly hope they do the right thing with all their record earnings.

Some people love yapping on their cell phone. Others of us, have it for convenience and to relay important information, such as: "Hey, sorry, gonna be a little late. There is an accident and traffic is crawling." or "I can't find you. Where the hell are you?"

I have given people I need to meet for work issues my PERSONAL cell phone number, just in case we are at opposite ends of Penn Station or something. I try to make it clear that this is MY cell phone (work is too cheap to give us stuff like that) and that it is to be used for urgent issues.

This morning, I am getting ready for another trip. I am still at home. I hear my cell phone ring, I look, it is one of our stupid work numbers. I think it might be important. I answer it. It is a guy that I travelled with last week for a project I am filling in on. He wants to know when he can expect a letter from me. Hello? What part of I'm not in the office does he fail to grasp. This is the first he is mentioning this to me. I have no idea what the fuck he is talking about. I basically tell him this. He says, yeah he's sorry, he should have mentioned it before. THEN, he asks again, when he can expect it. Well, gee, I won't be back into the office until FRIDAY, and I have to pass it by management, so I have no fucking clue!

I tell him to send me an e-mail and finally, he lets me go. Furthermore, even if he HAD mentioned it earlier, nothing would have gotten done. The thing he is looking for is important, but not as important as some other crap I am working on. He also just doesn't get that his little part of the universe just isn't that critical.

I'm getting tempted to post a sign saying just this in my back yard. My neighbor in the back (aka, anal retentive weinie) has taken to showing friends the setback of MY shed and the fence. Dad and Mom have seen them do it twice now. I wish they would get me when they do this. I'd ask them what was so damn facinating in my yard for them to look at.

Nosy fuckers - fence may just have to continue.

I first posted on 5/19/05 about my neighbor and her distain for my shed. I have been very lax in my updates, so here it goes:

I applied for a variance, which the zoning board denied. Even when the zoning board attempted to be reasonable, my neighbor said: "I don't want to look at the shed." So now my father has moved the shed for me. I am in compliance with the laws. I may be compliant, but that doesn't mean complacent.

To avoid future problems that this woman's inability to mind her own business could cause, I decided to build a fence. For years the crazy old bat (COB from now on) talked about deed restrictions prohibiting fences and clotheslines. I found out they were all a fantasy in her own mind (and she denied saying it in front of the zoning board). After ensuring that our fence plans were legal, the actual fence building got underway.

First step - Sight the property line. My father got a metal detector and tried to locate the metal pipes that were supposedly marking the corners. COB asked: "What are you looking for?" Father: "None of your fucking business." COB: "I know where the property line is." Father: "I know where it is, too."

Second step - Trim back branches on her beloved trees. Turns out I had an additional five feet of property I didn't know I had until her overgown trees were trimmed back. I actually have a side yard!

Third step - Start putting in posts. My father has had a devil of a time finding places to dig post holes where there are not copious numbers of tree roots. This has lent itself to rather irregular spacing of the sections of six-foot stockage fence. All of which COB will get to enjoy since the unfinished side is facing her. Plus my father was able to get a great deal on "seconds" at Home Depot.

Forth step - Put up sections of fencing. But wait! My mother and father felt the urge to express themselves artistically and what a better media than a blank fence! And express themselves they did - a frowny face, googly eyes, and commentary. I unfortunately did not get to see most of it, but I know that the State Trooper my neighbor called thought it was impressive, so have a couple of town employees.

Now the third and forth steps have gone back a forth. During an early iteration (before the artistic streak), COB came over and said: "You're doing a nice job, you saved me the effort of putting up a fence up." Father: "You fucking liar." This prompted the first call to the State Troopers. Trooper told my father that he can not curse at her. But at least trooper told her that she should not look at or talk to my father.

When the art work started going up, then the parade of emotional support for COB started. She had three days of continious visitors. Evidently she didn't want to be as alone as I was during my appearence infront of the zoning board.

Town officials have seen the artwork - its compliant with code, which is nearly non-existent for fences. Evidently it is the talk of the town. The town superintendent stopped by today, at my mother's request. We wanted to complain about one of the building inspectors. The supervisor said he HAD to come, against the town attorney's advice and was sorely tempted to see the other side. Evidently, my father has a reputation now for being a lunatic (not entirely unfounded, but he only selectively targets his lunacy) The supervisor found the whole thing amusing.

Well, Dad still has a couple of segments left - I need to go grab that can of spray paint and let the creative juices flow . . . .