I'll Meet You There ...

Wednesday, December 19, 2018


That demon spawn, Candy Scott is insufferable! >:-P

Monday I was thinking of Hub’s last words to me and decided I needed to formulate a letter that dealt with harsh honesty while being diplomatic in delivery, print it, and hand deliver it to the Park Office: I could have mailed it, but I want a quick result, so I bit the bullet and took it to Candy myself. I walked up to the Office and said I would like her to read what I wrote with an open mind and would wait for her response … whenever she got around to it; asap would be preferable. I also told her that it would be hard for her to read since she was one of the main issues in the letter, but what I wrote was truth, and if we are going to live here together we have to come to some sort of truce, and that she needs to know how I feel.

How did she respond? Typically, and as expected.

She took the letter and put it on her desk with her palms flat on it and with fake sympathy so thin it could be cut with a butter knife, she said, “I will read this Val. But you need to know that the last time your husband was in this Office he told me that he did not hold me personally responsible for anything because there were other stressors involved, and …”

And I cut her cold at that point before she could dig herself any deeper into the hole she was digging for herself. Of all the nerve! She was using the VERY WORDS I SPOKE TO HER in the call I made to her on Saturday morning when I called the Office to find out how to remove Hub’s name from the house title now that he is no longer living and flat out told her that I held her personally responsible for his death because she was a major stressor that led to his death. As soon as she uttered the words, “personally responsible” and “stressors” I knew EXACTLY what she was doing – she was attempting to absolve herself from any responsibility by playing on what she thought my emotions would be: she assumed (again) that I would be too wrapped up in grief to realize what she was doing. Well; she doesn’t know me at all, and that was a really stupid move on her part. I knew then that she was incapable of ever acknowledging her part in his death. Ever; letter or not. So I just stared hard at her for about 2 heartbeats so I didn’t jump the desk and bite her head off; then I calmly said, “Stop it. I don’t believe that because I KNOW how my husband felt up to the end of his life. Stop it.” Hubs had told me during his ICU stay … and he told everyone else who asked ‘what happened?’ that stress was killing him, and that our “little hitler manager was the stress”. Doesn’t sound anything at all like what Candy was suggesting. This woman has no shame and lies like a rug. She ignored me and went on with, “I know you need someone to blame …” And I cut her off again, held both hands up, and said, “I am not blaming anyone: I am flat out SAYING HOW IT IS” – not shouting, but stressing as calmly as firmly as I could so she would know that I was quickly reaching the end of my tolerance with her continual bullshit.

I was standing there, replaying Saturday morning's phone call in my head. I remember it clearly because I wrote it down afterwards so I wouldn't keep thinking on it. I remember waking up thinking, "I have to call Candy and I don't want to do this. Help me Yeshua." I made the call and as soon as she stared with her fake, 'Oh, Val, I am soooo sorry ...' I cut her off short, saying, "Candy, I don't want to hear you say that to me again. I am still pretty upset about August and I hold you responsible for my husband's death. And I would appreciate it if you would keep Ron away from me too ..." She cut in and said, "Is he bothering you?" And I said, "Not at the moment because I haven't been outside - I have been keeping a deathbed vigil at my husband's side ever since your August visit to our home. I don't know what his problem with me is - and I don't want to know. All I know is that you stormed our front porch on Ron's behalf and my  husband is dead because of it." Then I hung up the phone and cried.

For her to NOW use my own words against me in a twisted sense of self-righteousness is just plain wicked.

When I could finally speak again without screaming out in rage, I went on to say that as soon as Ron and she had issues with us, we should have been given the opportunity to have a 3-way meeting to iron out the problems in accordance to park Rules and Regulations. She looked startled and said, “there’s no rule like that.” And I said, “Yes; yes there is: Section 16 – Dispute Resolution. READ it – especially read articles 16.1 thru 16.2. Pretty clear reading.”

Candy Scott is in over her head and should vacate Manager Position: she has NO idea what the position entails, and she has NO idea what the Park Rules and Regulations STATE ... even though she insisted everyone read, sign, and hand in a statement saying they have done so the first of November; only a few weeks ago. Obviously SHE did not do so herself.

Then, to add injury to insult, she finished with, “I know it probably doesn’t compare … but I want you to know that I nearly lost my own husband this past Friday too. I know the fear.” At that, I just turned my back on her and opened the door to leave because I was afraid I really would jump that desk that separated me from her. I mean, HOW COINCIDENTAL is it that the very day MY husband dies, she {almost loses} hers??? And again, she assumes that I felt fear when my husband passed while I held his hand? I felt no fear because I knew my husband was leaving a pain wracked and dying body behind to gain a new one that would never again feel pain or decay. We are Christians, and my husband died a Christian death – there was NO fear involved, praise Elohei, Who comforted us both with faithful grace/mercy, unfailing/unsurpassed love, and soothing/comforting peace that passes all understanding. Candy, being the demon spawn that she is, doesn’t know that about us: she doesn’t know me, she ignores how I truly feel to try to superimpose her feelings onto me. Add to that the fact that I called her early Saturday morning to tell her that I needed to have Hub’s name removed from the House Title in case I want to sell it, and she sounded fine to me – there was NO INDICATION AT ALL that she had come within a hare’s breath of losing her husband: she wasn’t rattled, she wasn’t fearful, she wasn’t stressed; she was pretty darned calm for someone who had just gone through a fearful experience!

She also said, before I walked out the door, that “I really don’t know Ron at all.” Hmmm. She told Hub’s in an Office visit that Ron “really is a very nice man.” Now she ‘don’t really know’ him ‘at all’????

Candy Scott is a seasoned and practiced liar with no conscience at all. That woman is insufferable. And THAT is WHY every time I have to deal with her I get things on paper: can’t deny the written words.

December 17th, 2018

Candice Scott    
Manager Heron Pointe

I am writing this letter following our phone conversation following my husband’s death December 14th, 2018. As I stated in that phone conversation, I am not sure how long I will be here, but for the time being I will be here for a while. My husband’s last words to me were “I love you”, and “keep the house.” I will try to honor my husband in this matter but a great deal of that will depend on you and Ron. We have been good tenants and neighbors – the same cannot be truthfully claimed by either of you towards us … in any regard. Ron’s self-centered pettiness and aimless complaining, and your arrogantly ignorant actions and baseless accusations leveled at us on Ron’s behalf are directly responsible for my husband’s untimely and wrongful death. Had the ridiculous situation been handled in a professional manner, and had we been given a fair hearing with a meeting between Ron, us, and you … my husband would still be alive. That being said, as I said before: I have forgiven you because you are nothing more than a tool for Ron’s pettiness. Ron, on the other hand, has been an irritant from the day we moved in: he started his BS then and carped on us about anything and everything – and we were more than accommodating because we are good people and good neighbors: we had no idea he was also complaining behind our backs to you until you stormed our porch August 29th, 2018 making demands, throwing accusations around, and waving highlighted papers under our noses, that apparently only we have to obey. Tessa and Ron on both sides of us can get away with murder and you appear powerless to make them tow the line … the very line you were vociferously insistent we tow. Now, due to the stress caused by that stress, my husband is dead.

So to make some sort of peace of this nightmare I am now living with all the hell caused by mismanagement and ridiculous pettiness, I am asking now, before the gardening season begins in March of 2019, what vegetables and flowers will Ron allow you to okay for me to plant: can you please list and mail the okayed selections so I can be sure not to plant anything that would offend him? And can I be assured that he will not insist on another 12 inches of “safe space” tacked on to the 12” you are insisting I give him when your grandsons move the planter boxes to make him happy? And, if I may, can you please ask him to make sure that his unruly tomatoes do not cross the boundary line and trail into my area – you refused to take a look at that when I asked you to do so August 29th, because “his wife just died, for God’s sake!” But when I called you a few days later to tell you that my husband, Bob, was in ER dying because of your crazy visit, your response was “Well, Val, that is not my problem.” A boldly biased stance from a person who prides herself on professionalism. I would also like you to ask Ron to make sure his garden clean-up stays on his side of the boundary line that seems to move according to his whims: he can lean his tomato cages on his own planter box instead of mine when he is doing Fall cleanup; for him to boldly leave them leaning against my planter box was disrespectfully nervy given the baseless complaining he has done about us to you concerning ‘private property’. I am not even sure you broached the topic with him after I mentioned it to you: he never did physically move the cages – they still lie where the wind finally blew them down.

And those red scalloped bricks he claims I stole from him? Those bricks were ours and I have property pictures to prove it:

We bought this house last summer – in 1 year’s time my husband is dead because of pure nonsensical BS

I took this picture the day we purchased our home here – the background bricks Ron ran complaining to you about are clearly on our side. Seriously … WHO in their right mind would willingly “lay bricks for a neighbor’s property line ON THE SIDE of their property” knowing the property would be sold, as Ron claims? That was his story to us: I have no idea what he told you. But a picture is worth more than a thousand words. I was doing cleanup … the only dishonesty is Ron’s. But he can keep them; if he wants them bad enough to concoct a ridiculous story and stand by it, he can have them: I don’t need them; and if I want more, they are fairly cheap to purchase. Ron is not a “really very nice man”. You and I have a very different understanding of what the word “nice” means.

I want you, as Park Manager, to make sure Ron leaves me alone from now on. And any complaints he has about me to you I want to be present to hear with my own ears, and I want to be able – under Park Rues – to exercise the right to defend myself before you make any more demands or accusations to me on his behalf. This is fair and right. My husband’s wrongful death is unfair and leaves me at a disadvantage on many levels. I am expecting you, as Park Manager to put your biases aside and help me make the necessary transition as painless and as easy as possible – as you did with Ron – while I try to navigate the choppy waters of widowhood with a crappy neighbor to deal with.


I doubt she even read the letter given the way she jumped right to the BS defenses. I do not expect a reply back. But at least she knows how I feel and it is on record in her file (I am assuming that she actually read it/kept it), so if anything in the letter is brought up in further dispute I can redirect her to the letter above.

Elohim is going to have to help me every minute of every day to rise above her if I decide to stay here because right now she sucks the goodness right out of me. If I do stay I will have to have encounters with her … Hubs, because of her arrogantly ignorant actions, is no longer alive to run interference like he used to: and I have a very, VERY LOW tolerance for bold-faced liars. Even less for carefree murderers.

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