Monday Lunch @ Village Inn

Hi – There’s more than lunch to this day, but as I sat down, that’s all that came to mind. So, I’m just going to ramble incoherently for a little while and see what else might leak out of my festered brain. Hard telling.

OK, for one, PC, the porch cat, hasn’t been around for a few days. Funny that he stuck around the entire time we were traveling, she was here every day. Apparently, at least one of those days, was spent in the garage. There’s evidence that she helped herself to one of the bags of dog food, according to the teeth marks. I guess she can’t read, yet.

Anyway, after we got home, she really, really, wanted to come inside the house, so I let her. And, she let the dogs get up close and personal. Perhaps she figured it just wasn’t worth sticking around, and putting up with nosey dogs and decided to seek solace elsewhere. Either that, or she went off somewhere to meditate about her future. The overall result of this is that Diane’s sad. Not me. I’m tough when it comes to cats. We don’t need no stupid little kitty. But, if she comes back, I may change my mind. For Diane.

So, Ozzie checked the clock this morning and, right at 7:00 am he started jumping around on me. He’s a vicious little alarm clock, but really accurate. I just wish I could reprogram him to a later time. I suppose the solution is for me to go to sleep sooner then it wouldn’t be a big deal. I keep trying to do that, but Diane won’t go to bed at a decent time and I’m not allowed to go to bed before her because she might want something. Sometimes, when I ask her something, she tells me she can’t hear around corners, but apparently she thinks I can. When that happens, I just take a guess at what she wants. Most of the time I have at least an inkling about the request, but when that’s missing I just get her a Klondike Bar. The Heath Bar kind. She loves those, especially when she doesn’t ask for one. It’s a safe choice.

Our morning went slowly because we didn’t do much of anything until it was time to get dressed and head to the Village Inn in Portland. We went to the one on Weidler Ave, near the Lloyd Center, where the ice rink is located. Until then, we were just running around the house naked. Actually, we didn’t run around the house at all. We just sat in our computer chairs. And, we weren’t both naked. Diane won’t let me be naked in the house anymore because sometimes I forget and answer the front door.

We left home, for lunch, early enough to stop by Fred Meyer to get the $5 discount for the new U of O hat Diane got me to replace the one I left by the pool in Las Vegas. It’s bright yellow and it’s imperative that I wear brightly colored head gear when we leave the house so Diane can pick me out of a crowd when I wander away. We used to rely on phones, which is the reason I was allowed to get one, but that doesn’t work when she buries hers in the bottom of her purse, with the ringer off. Or, is that me, with the phone in my hip pocket with the ringer off? It’s one of those. Since we were only going to a restaurant, where there’s little danger of getting lost, this is what I wore …

That’s my Ho-Chi-Min hat that Diane got me. It’s made by Coleman, in China, and it’s really warm. Since it’s spring now, I decided that I’m not going to wear it any more until next fall, or winter. It makes my head sweat and messes up my hair. I’d take another picture to show you, but I don’t want to embarrass Diane. Over the past 44 years I’ve learned that’s not a very smart thing to do. The punishment is vividly memorable.

At lunch were Tom, Coleen, Linda, Vie, Nelda, Jerry2, Jerry1, me, and Diane. That’s the order we sat in around the tables that were jammed together. Tom, Diane, me, and Jerry1 sat across from the other four. No, make that the other five. Diane and I had breakfast. Everyone else ate lunch. Jerry1 ordered breakfast, but didn’t eat it. Instead he took it home. It was biscuits and gravy, and looked pretty good.

During lunch I learned a variety of things, most notably was about the time Tom word a pair of his wife’s underwear to work. Apparently it pretty exciting, for a lot people, when they came off while he was in line for a slushy at Wendy’s during lunch. They didn’t actually come off because he really wasn’t wearing them. They were just sticking out of the top of his pants and tickling his leg when he walked. Frankly, I don’t see anything wrong with that, at all. I’d prefer to wear them but, hey, tangling them down my pants is an excellent alternative. Go, Tom!

Also, Tom has a unique filing system for his receipts. Especially those that are stuck to products with tape upon purchase. Once he gets home he sits on them, for some reason, sans underwear. I promised him I wouldn’t say anything about that, but changed my mind. You’ve just got to wonder how a receipt, stuck to a ling piece of red tape, can get stuck to your ass, inside your underwear, and not know it. Maybe I should say that “most’ people might wonder how that can happen, but I have no illusions about the possibility of things like that happening. I do admit, however, that having experienced many weird “things” in my short life, I am not surprised at what happened to Tom, and kind of envy him because he enjoyed such a strange event of this magnitude before me. It’s pretty classic. I’m really proud of Tom for sharing this wonderful story.

Jerry1 arrived last. He called as we were driving to PDX to find out how to get to the Village Inn. I gave him the instructions, and he didn’t have any problem finding us. He reported that he joined a new car club – The Pharaohs. Now he’s in three of those – the TVCC, the Camaro Car Club, and The Pharaohs. I learned that The Pharaohs were the car club in American Graffiti in 1973. Jerry1’s been a really busy guy. He’s also in a variety of bowling leagues around the greater metropolitan Vancouver & Portland areas. We don’t know where he bowls, yet, but when we find out we’re going to rename his team “The Nads”. Then we can stand behind the team and yell “Go Nads, Go!”

I would have had more to share of today’s events, but everyone quit talking after that because they saw I was taking notes. I have to do that, now, since my memory is fading fast. Then, again, not remembering anything hasn’t stopped me from coming up with a lot to say about nothing so far, so I suppose I didn’t really need to take notes.

Except, taking notes of Tom’s experiences allowed me to capture proof that truth really can be stranger than fiction. Receipts taped to your ass … I’m afraid I’ll be dreaming about that tonight. How fun!

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