Starting a Business - Twice

Guess what.  I went to go search for my new L number on the Department of Assessments and Taxation's website.  I found I had not one number, but TWO.  Apparently they actually did process that application I sent four months ago.  They just never told me they did.

Now I have to look into getting the superfluous number "terminated."  Communication is a life skill, people.

Starting a Business - Progress!

On Friday, after another semi-random search through a trail of links on various government websites, I discovered a portal specially designed to streamline this process.  I applied for my L number (state tax ID) and actually got a prompt reply!

I received an email this morning informing me that my application had been accepted and that my number had been approved.  However, they didn't tell me what my number actually was, and apparently I have to wait five business days for it to be searchable on the Department of Assessments and Taxation's website.  I can only hope they're also sending a paper copy by mail.  Maybe.

Next, we apply with the county.

Some Sanity Regarding Internet Sales Tax

Ok, I've been Googling the latest articles, and apparently a threshold has indeed been set for the proposed law.  Unless small online retailers (such as Ebay and Etsy stores, specifically) do more than $1,000,000 in sales in a state in which they do not have a physical presence, they will not be required by that state to collect and remit sales taxes.

W00T!  Not so hopeless after all.

Starting a Business, Finally

Yay!  Yesterday my first piece of paperwork arrived from the distant and inscrutable bowels of the government offices concerned.  I have officially registered for five years the trade name "Statements of Faith" for the low price of $25 filing fee and two months of suspense.

I still await my tax ID number, my approval from the county and the board of planning and zoning, and my tax license.  Not done yet, but hooray for progress!

In the meantime, I've had my first official commissions from outside the family.  Very exciting.

Still Trying to Start a Business

The ball is in their court now.  I filed two pieces of essential paperwork a while ago, one to register my trade name ($25), and one for a tax identification number.  I can't really move forward without those two clearing first.  They haven't cashed my check yet, so apparently it's sitting in someone's inbox in Baltimore.  Maybe someday they'll find it.

In the meantime, I'm ready and waiting to apply for my trader's license and my sales and use tax license.  I'll also be needing a letter from the landlord stating that I'm not violating my lease or any zoning codes.

My Etsy store is all set up, but I can't list anything without that pesky sales and use tax license.  *Sigh*

Starting a Business (Or Not), Part II

So, the search for real people was an abject failure.  Well, we found the people all right, but they were of absolutely no use.  Once we drove across town, found a place to park, practically undressed, subjected ourselves to radiation, endured the pat down AND found the office in question, we were told that they "don't actually do that here."  In an attempt to be helpful (and while admitting some measure of ignorance of the process), they gave us a crappy (but ready to hand) xerox copy of Mapquest instructions to the office that "might" be able to help.  That office would then call the office we were currently occupying before sending us out to yet another office, etc., etc., etc.  I didn't care to bounce around occupied territory for the remainder of my day, so we drove home in a huff.

Now I can either try calling these same unhelpful and not terribly knowledgeable people, or I could just continue puzzling it out for myself and machine-gun some applications into the outer darkness in no particular order.

Seriously, it's no wonder personal initiative is dying in this country.

All That Darn Paperwork . . .

Currently getting lost in that vast labyrinth of dead tree that is registering a business.  At several points already I've been ready to just chuck it all into the garbage and go back to my carefree life wherein I burn all my free time watching TV rather than attempting to be productive.  Going out tomorrow in search of real people who can hopefully uncomplicate the situation. . . .

Penetrating the Bureaucracy

Those of you who have been keeping track of us know about our dealings with the MVA.  Everything progressed uncharacteristically smoothly when we bought the new car, so we dared to hope it would all be smooth sailing from now on.  But apparently there had to be at least one last glitch.

As soon as we secured a loan for the new car, we were sent the blue title listing PNC Bank as the lien holder.  When we paid them off eight months later, PNC sent us something which looked like a pink version of the same title (though it clearly insisted that it was NOT in fact a title) stating that PNC no longer held any claim to the car.  The cover letter told us the real title would be sent to us directly from the MVA, allowing ten days for delivery.

After waiting sixty days without hearing a word, I finally trudged out to the local MVA Express in hopes of finding a real person who could tell me what the heck was going on.  I took the kiosk ticket for "Miscellaneous" problems, because none of the other categories seemed appropriate.

After standing in the proverbial DMV line, I told the nice man what the problem was.  The way he rolled his eyes made it immediately clear that PNC had told us a lie.  Apparently this happens a lot.  The upshot of it was that I could take the blue title and the pink un-title all the way back to Annapolis to have a "clear title" printed free of charge (how nice), or I could just staple the two together and call it good.

At present I'm opting for the stapler.

Car Troubles, Part 2

For a moment we thought we'd lost the registration for the Old Car, which would complicate the process, but it has been found.  I called the donation people yesterday and was supposed to hear from the towing company, but got nothing until today when I decided to be the squeaky wheel and call again.  Hopefully Old Car will be towed away and gone by this time tomorrow.  I really wanted to expedite the process because I'd like to go visit the family over the weekend without worrying that the apartment office somehow discovered Old Car was dead in the water and towed it away for lease violation.

There was only one chore remaining, and that was to remove the semi-permanent Ft. Meade registration stickers.  Obviously it would be a breach of security to have them roll off the lot with the car.  I remembered removing them from my car with a small razor blade without much trouble.  As it is the last minute, I ran outside to take care of this after confirming pickup with the tow company.

It's raining today, and rather cold.  And because Old Car still had out-of-state plates, the stickers were in a different place.  My stickers were in the bottom right-hand corner of the windshield.  Old Car's stickers were dead center on the TOP of the windshield.

I'm sure it was vaguely humorous to watch me crawl all over a slimy wet car trying to reach those stickers with my tiny razor blade.  Thanks to a small miracle, I managed to get the identifying number and expiration dates off, but I plan on asking the tow truck guy if he has a sticker scraper to get the rest.

Draconian Doggie Rescue

This is Charlie, an adorable Dachshund/Chihuahua mix available for adoption.  He probably would have had his "forever home" by now if the All American Dachshund Rescue had actually been willing to give him up.

I remember adopting a dog when I was a kid.  We drove to the SPCA, found a puppy we liked, signed some adoption papers, and drove home with a new family pet.  There were no home visits, no pet-matching counseling, no contracts demanding that we surrender the sovereignty of our own home.  

I read the contract during a moment of temporary recklessness when we were determined to adopt Charlie, or even Sable.  But it didn't seem like AADR had any intention to entirely trust ANYone with their precious pups.

Not only will they insist on a home visit before the adoption is approved, but AADR demands the right to visit our home at random intervals throughout the life of the dog.  If AADR isn't convinced we're pampering the little darling according to their specifications, they reserve the right to permanently confiscate the dog at any time.  All serious illnesses or accidents must be reported to AADR.  We will not be permitted to part with the dog to anyone but AADR.  In the case of terminal illness or catastrophic injury, we would need written permission from AADR to euthanize the dog.  

It sounds like it would be more like an extended lease than an adoption.  Honestly, when I adopt a dog, I would like to think I could own it free and clear and have a final say about its welfare.  I certainly don't want AADR breathing down my neck for the next decade.  It's just a dog, for heaven's sake.  

We gave up on Charlie and Sable and started looking for local rescues from other agencies, hoping they would be less draconian.  Unfortunately it seemed like a trend.

We found Sneakers, a perky little Dachshund/Spaniel mix.  But Tara's House Animal Rescue Inc. seemed to have the same hang-ups.   They also require proof of enrollment in an obedience class and an immediate vet's appointment.  

The last serious candidate was Andy, A Dachshund/Pug mix, from Mutts Need Love Too Dog Rescue.  Actually, they were pretty reasonable about the adoption process.  They do the initial home visits, but then don't seem inclined to make trouble.  What volunteer agency really has the time and manpower to do all that follow-up, anyway?  They do require a lengthy and detailed application analyzing all the details of our prospective lives as dog owners, and three unrelated references, complete with phone numbers and home addresses.  

Unfortunately for Andy, by the time we found him the impulse had worn off and the nagging voice of better judgment prevailed over making the financial commitment to a four-legged friend at this particular time, regardless of how much we would like to have him around.  The pet-rent alone would be $1000/year.  Still, that's probably cheaper than a therapist . . .

MVA Madness: Take Eight

We have finally acquired new tags and a proper registration!  Apparently there's still an emission test in our future, but we'll cross that bridge when they bother to mail us the information.  It's like an ongoing ransom negotiation for the right to drive, but we've made a major step forward.

And the best news is that we can make our drive to Virginia this weekend in the younger, fitter car without hiding from the state troopers. :)

MVA Madness: Take Seven

We have successfully acquired a driver's license for David.  Finally.   Now we have to fill out the rest of the appropriate paperwork for the car registration so I can bring it back Monday and try my luck once again.  Hopefully we can lay this whole issue to rest, and my car will no longer be a fugitive from Virginia.

Oh, the Rejection

We've been trying to become bona fide citizens of this state for some time now.  Technically David doesn't have to, being active duty, but apparently I have to, and we decided to both go for it just to simplify matters.  Just imagine being able to actually have the same legal address, vote where you live, and not have so much explaining to do when tax season comes around.  We felt like we should regularize the situation in a timely manner.  We have also recently been gifted with the ownership of our primary vehicle, so we had a title to file and new registration to acquire.

As soon as we had our signed lease for our apartment, we went in search of the local DMV.  With the sketchy internet service we had at the time, we were able to generate one address on the Google page, and thankfully it wasn't far away.  We headed down there with our folder of official paperwork, only to discover that it is an "express" location which doesn't offer any of the many services we require.  There was no indication of an alternative location to which to take ourselves.  We decided to go ahead inside and ask someone where we were actually supposed to go, but apparently we would be expected to take a number from the kiosk and wait an hour to be seen.  We weren't about to wait an hour just to ask for directions, so we stomped out and called my parents, asking them to conduct an internet search on our behalf.

The location of a full service DMV was discovered, but it was in the next county, a good half hour drive from home.  We drove away in the hope of having better luck there.

Long story short, when we finally reached the front desk, the lady explained to us that we needed TWO proofs of legal residence, not just the lease.  We didn't have any gas or electric bill yet, and we hadn't changed our address with the bank.  Apparently a vehicle registration would work, and since we were there to do that anyway, we asked if we could possibly register the car first and use the registration to acquire driver's licenses.  Apparently we could.  We stood in line at the other desk and attempted to fill out the forms.  Every question was ambiguous, and we stood in line a few more times just to clarify some things.  For instance, there was a blank for a "Maryland driver's license #."  We didn't have Maryland licenses and anything we put down would be misleading because they would be Georgia and Virginia numbers.  And did they want the address we currently called home, or one of the two legal addresses that appeared on the licenses we did have?  It was such a mess, we walked out and decided to go back when we had a bank statement for our second proof of residence.

We went by the bank on our way home and changed our billing address.

Apparently since I am only the co-owner of our bank account, I cannot access the statements when I log into the website.  We went paperless a while ago, mostly because we didn't want bank statements bouncing between addresses while the move was going on.  So, a week after we had changed our billing address, I simply walked into the bank and asked for a statement.

They looked at me like I was crazy.  Apparently nobody asks for a statement anymore.  I explained that it was for the DMV, and then it seemed to make sense to them.  They printed a summary of our account with the new address, and had a few bank representatives sign and date it.

That Friday (a week after the first endeavor) we make the drive back to the DMV, feeling very prepared.  Who gets anything done on their first trip to the DMV, anyway?  We spread everything out for the lady at the front desk, and she promptly dismissed my paper from the bank, saying it needed to be an actual statement, not just a summary.  I explained that it was the only thing they would give me.  "Oh, well have you been a resident for at least 30 days?  Well, that's why they can't print you a statement yet."

Everywhere we seem to be meeting a new glorification of procrastination.  We went home once again, having accomplished nothing.  When we did get home, we found our first gas/electric bill in the mailbox, but we were too tired to go back.

We planned to go back the following Friday with this gas bill, but I noticed that my name did not appear on it, and apparently being married to the party named on the gas bill is not legal proof that I live with him.  Strike out once again.  We didn't even both driving down there.

At long last, thirty days passed in our new home, and I logged into the bank website as David and printed our %@#$ bank statement.  We had one Friday left before he would no longer be able to leave work early enough to make the trip, the Friday before Memorial Day.  We planned our day around it, and got there early enough to have several hours to navigate the bureaucracy.

But, unbeknownst to us, everybody at the DMV decided they wanted a long weekend, and the place was locked up and deserted when we got there.  Our bank statement wasn't going to do us any good that day.

I can't help but get the feeling that Maryland doesn't really want us.  They sure aren't in a hurry to help us get this worked out.  We don't take our social security cards for joyrides every weekend just for the fun of it.

I'm going down there again today, alone, just to see if I can accomplish anything.  The worst they can say is that our bank statement is no good because a mailman didn't deliver it by hand to our address, and that I can't register the car by myself because I'm just the co-owner.  In that case, David will have to take time off work just to visit the DMV, and I may be arrested for throttling someone.


(Several hours later . . . .)

Thank God, they accepted the bank statement.  It took all morning, but I now have a garish new Maryland driver's license.  I stood in the vehicle registration line for two minutes before I decided I would have better luck first thing in the morning on some other day.  The last time I saw a line like that was at Six Flags.  My afternoon would be better spent at the gym, which is where I'm off to now.

More on the Move

We have received yet another demand from the movers, namely that I suddenly appear in Georgia to sign on the dotted line when they pick up our stuff, and then return to California to sign the other dotted line when they arrive. Since I have not yet mastered bilocation, I'll just have to call them once again and beg for some reconsideration on their part.

I really hate doing things from a distance.


Follow-up: Efforts to raise them on the phone were unsuccessful at the house because there are clouds and therefore not even the slightest cell signal. Driving away to the commissary parking lot in my pajamas produced no better results, because Cliff would not answer his extension and nobody else was interested in hearing about my problems or answering my questions.

This move is supposed to be happening in two days, and could still be a huge bust with a nonrefundable deposit. I'm starting to consider the possibility of living in unfurnished homes for the duration of our military misadventure. It seems easier somehow.

Getting Some Traction

I think I've finally made a full phycological recovery. I can actually get up and make a dent in the list of long overdue house chores, scrub the bathroom, clean the kitchen, sweep and mop the floor and keep the dishes done, all instead of lying around in a sweatshirt with my hair in a knot watching crap on YouTube. I can look at Gerber commercials without going to pieces, and I don't hate the sight of mothers walking through the neighborhood with strollers. I can even visit Facebook once in a while to read about my friends and their new kids.

Meredith came down for a visit yesterday while she was still in town. We went out for lunch and spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach and rocks at Lover's Point having long overdue candid conversation. We even spotted a few whales in the bay. I'll have to take my sister out there when she comes; she'll love the squirrels everywhere. But next time I'll actually remember to bring some sunscreen. Ouch.

David is taking his mock finals this week, and it's looking more and more like he'll actually get the rollback we've been waiting for. The paperwork in question seems to be making good time through the proper channels. We're not sure exactly how long that will extend our stay out here, but we should know more in a week or two.

Once he actually joins his new class, we'll move our things out here and make this house some semblance of a home. Just cleaning the floor and picking up all the crap that was piled in the corners made it feel less like living in a garage. I put the guest bedroom together for Bev, and it already looks cozy, or as much as it can with just the "bed" (air mattress) and three small pictures from the dollar store. It would be nice to just have a few posters in poster frames to lighten the monotony, but nobody sells posters of anything we'd bother to hang on our walls. I used to swear by Allposters.com, but now they're more about pricy art prints.

The IRS is still mucking around with my tax return, which I filed 16 weeks ago. The first time I called them they gave me some line about it taking eight weeks to process a paper return, which wasn't really relevant, because I filed electronically. The website told me they had deposited it a few weeks ago, but now they've changed their minds and say they might possibly mail it by Friday. I will believe it when I see $705.70 appear in the bank. Maybe this was an act of God, making sure we didn't spend it before we could put it toward hiring a moving truck.

As You Were

Despite all the headaches it entails, I have complained my last about TriCare. We did well over $10,000 of damage in the hospital alone, not including the OB and the primary provider. It was a rough few months, and apparently all we have to show for it are bills and an enormous bruise on my arm.

At least we could enjoy our four-day weekend for Independence Day. On Tuesday we wandered around the farmer's market in town and ended up with an apple from the representatives of the DeBrito Chocolate Factory. It wasn't just a caramel apple, it was an "Outrageous Caramel Apple," more specifically a "Snicker Wrapple" with crushed Snickers bars and extra chocolate. Eventually you found the apple in the middle. Pretty darn good, but not something you would want to bite into every day, particularly since we keep forgetting to sign me up for dental insurance.

Apparently my tax return (outstanding since March) has finally vanished between the IRS and the bank. I'm waiting another week for it to turn up before I start filing claims. I've already called the people and the people are useless on both ends. None of them know any more than I do. We've also started the driver's license song and dance one more time; I was a few weeks too early to renew it when I actually took the trouble to FLY back home to the DMV, so now I'm trying to resolve that issue before it expires in October. The process online was surprisingly uncomplicated, but they warned me it may very well get lost in the mail.

No kidding this time, my last OB appointment is tomorrow. Hopefully there won't be any other emergencies to reschedule me. Then maybe we can resume life as normal.

Finally Moving?

Now that a new addition to the family is on the way, we've decided to bite the bullet and move our stuff across the country. Besides, David has acquired a roll-back, and we'll be here until March. The bare minimum lifestyle is starting to get a little old, and some furniture would be really nice. We just haven't quite figured out how we're going to make it happen.

We're strongly considering a DITY move with PODS, but apparently that requires attendance at a DITY move class which will be inconvenient for him to attend (i.e. missing regular class). There is the option of a "home of record" move, which would sound great if I had some confidence that our things wouldn't be stolen or destroyed before they reached us. Apparently military movers ain't what they used to be. Maybe losing a few dozen plates and knocking the heads off a few statues is an acceptable sacrifice for acquiring an actual bed with legs? Otherwise we'll be putting the baby down to sleep in a plastic laundry basket.

Back to the Front

So ends my short trip home. Now I get to climb back on a plane and head for the other coast. The good news is that I accomplished all of my objectives, insofar as they could be completed. My taxes are filed. I have new stickers for the car. The info on my driver's license is officially changed, but now I have to wait for it to find me via snail mail. I pray it has a safe and direct journey.

It's been a little strange behind home again, actually. It's almost like nothing ever happened, and we were just picking up where we left off in November. It was good to see the family, though.

Whatever

I tried calling the DMV again, this time by a different number, actually got hold of a real person after holding for a half hour (a half hour of Tracfone minutes) and got the same trained monkey answer about how they can't help me unless I hop on a plane and visit them in person. I was just about ready to give up on the whole thing, but David's chain of command is baffled by the problem and determined to look into it themselves. I would dearly love to know what they turn up.

We were also supposed to obtain the last bit of official paperwork for his BAH yesterday, but when we turned up for our appointment at Fleet and Family, the guy we were supposed to see had already gone home sick some time ago. Nobody thought to call us. Apparently they're going to try working us into the schedule today. We shall see.

We're debating whether or not to bother moving our stuff at all. We're so tired of arranging things that it just seems easier to extend our domestic survival camp for the next eight months. It would certainly save us the trouble of moving away from here. It shouldn't be too bad, but I don't feel like much of a homemaker.

Crisis Recovery

Okay. Apparently the powers to which we had recourse failed to accurately inform the husband of the proper protocols by which to "move ashore." Apparently we'd been doing everything out of order, and there were several other errands and documents to be taken care of. Belatedly, a checklist was provided, a deadline was established, and the mad scramble began.

Fortunately, the majority of it has been taken care of, courtesy of overnight mail. I love overnight mail. Everything that remains to be done should be done within the week.

That just leaves my crisis of identity. No one will tell me what to do with my driver's license. This is of course all tied up with my state of residence and all those bothersome details. I wanted to get a new one in Georgia, but there wasn't time. I need to renew mine in Virginia before it expires this year (when we're supposed to be moving), but I can't change my name on it unless I come in person. The Virginia DMV hung up on me twice rather than let me talk to a real person. They couldn't give my mother a straight answer when she went to ask on my behalf, except that I should have done it "within thirty days" and that it's already too late. We're going to ask the ID card people on base when we go to get that changed (if we can get it changed), and if they don't know, we'll take a trip down to the legal office. I really don't want to bother getting licensed in California just to ditch it nine months from now, but there may be no better option.

Give me a paper-pusher. I need to strangle one. I beat a fly to death this afternoon, but that wasn't quite good enough.