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When
should I change my furnace filter?
Many
HVAC systems utilize high-end filters and filtration
systems that remove dust, allergens, and countless forms
of debris from the air that's pumped into your home.
A good filtering system ensures a clean airflow, which
is key to everyone's health-especially for people who
suffer from allergies, asthma, and other afflictions.
Some units are designed to trap even the smallest particles
that are so tiny that they are measured in microns.
Clean
or change your furnace filter once every month. Clean
furnaces run much more efficiently, and a high quality
filter can prevent excess dust and other debris from
circulating through your home or clogging your furnace.
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If
you or someone you know, is about to start a business,
be sure to obtain a home equity line of credit
before leaving the current salaried position.
It is usually very simple and inexpensive to get
a line of credit as a salaried employee. It is
very unlikely to do so as a new business owner.
Every new business owner should have a line of
credit.
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The
Conforming Loan Limit of $322,700 is the break point
before loans fall into Jumbo rates which are at a higher
rate.
The
VHA loan limit is $244,000.
The FHA loan limit is $239,500.
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The
Old Blue Bike
It
was a Christmas when my three older sisters were 12,10,
and 7; just after my father, a young engineer, had accepted
a transfer from Schenectady, N.Y. to Los Angeles, Ca.
On Christmas eve, my mother made preparations for the
traditional Christmas dinner the next afternoon. Amid
the bustle of the Christmas Eve excitement, my father
was preoccupied. His thoughts kept returning to the
used bicycle hidden carefully in the garage rafters.
Next to it lay the boxes holding two brand-new, shiny
black, matching three speed bikes which he had purchased
for my two older sisters. The family budget strains
had prevented Dad from buying a third black three speed
for Leanne. Instead, he set about restoring the old
single speed, fat-tire bike the older two no longer
rode. Long hours of scouring pads and elbow grease made
the rusty spokes shine. The inner tubes were patched,
and a new coat of paint erased the battle scars of collisions
and neglect. A replacement set of handgrips made the
handlebars look almost new.
My
father realized Leanne would probably recognize the
old warhorse, but he was sure she would be happy just
having her own bike. And in a year or two, when she
outgrew this one, he would be able to buy her a brand-new
one. Leanne had already received a big share of hand-me-downs
from her older sisters. Many of her clothes, toys, and
books had been previously used.
This
Christmas Eve, as my mother tucked all of us in bed,
Dad commenced his marathon toy and bicycle assembly
projects. When he finished the new, black bicycles,
he placed them side by side near the Christmas tree.
He then carefully rolled out and placed the rejuvenated
old bike next to the new ones. The stark contrast of
the old half-sized, blue, fat-tire bike against the
sleek, black beauties made the revamped bike suddenly
look small and old fashioned. Dad stood quietly at the
bikes and reconsidered. Had he made a mistake in trying
to redo the old bike for Leanne? Would she feel slighted?
Leanne was too young to understand the economics of
family finances, but she would be quick to spot this
injustice perpetrated by Santa Clause: new bikes for
her sisters, the old warhorse for her. Panic began to
sweep over Dad as he realized he'd made a mistake. He
hurriedly put on a coat and picked up the phone to call
the store; but a few minutes later he sat down at the
dinner table, dejected, with his coat still on. It was
too late. The stores were all closed.
My
grandmother, who was visiting for the holidays, tried
to comfort Dad. "Don't worry Ray. She'll love the
bike. You've made it look just like new." Dad,
however was not to be comforted. He kept imagining the
disappointed look on Leanne's face as she recognized
the old hand-me-down. Though it was very late when he
finished the last stocking and exhausted as he was from
his assembly projects, Dad did not sleep well that night.
Early
Christmas morning, we were poised in our annual positions
in the hall - all in a row, youngest to the oldest.
It was still dark outside, but we were already hopping
with that special excitement of children on Christmas
morning. Dad was in the living room making the movie
camera and lights ready to record our grand entrance.
Finally he yelled, "Okay, come on in," and
we blazed through the doorway like a shot. My older
sisters spotted their black beauties, gave them the
once over with due praise and admiration, and moved
on to the Christmas tree to locate more presents. Amid
the chaos and clutter, Leanne stood firmly next to the
old blue bike. She was touching every part and talking
aloud, "Look, it has new grips and new paint! A
brand-new seat! Just look at those pedals, and it's
my very own, my very own bike."
Leanne
didn't seem to notice there were other presents for
her under the tree. She stayed near the bike and repeated
the same speech several times, though no one was listening,
no one, that is, except my father. He stood silently
on the other side of the room, oblivious to the other
children, the movie camera now held low at his side,
listening to Leanne. Tears of joy streamed down his
face as he witnessed the perfect acceptance of his imperfect
gift.
It
has been a long time since the black beauties were worn
out and discarded. Even the old warhorse was sent to
the glue factory years ago. But the image of my father's
tear streaked face on Christmas Day reminds me still
of the warmth of a Christmas gift well given and well
received. By Joel R. Ryan
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