Apples & Reunions

You’ll have to forgive Jerrie for his absence the last few days, but he’s just now recovering from a catatonic state of mind caused by the near fatal crash of his beloved Apple computer. It was scary to watch as he frantically searched for answers for the problem he experienced and we even took him to Best Buy, where he got it, to speak to a Geek. Turns out those Geeks aren’t allowed to work on Macintosh hardware … they can just install, or reinstall software.

Since Jerrie’s hard drive was essentially dead, according to the message he received when attempting an upgrade to Apple’s newest operating system, he was seeking assistance at the highest level. At best buy he was provided help by a Geek who had difficulty getting Jerrie’s iMac back into the box in which it was delivered, and was then told he’d have to go to an Apple Store at one of the biggest malls in the Portland area. Not totally pleased, he went there, dropping Diane at a handy Costco on the way, and arrived 2 minutes late. Because of that he was removed from the Apple Help queue and told he’d have to wait another hour for assistance.

For Jerrie, that wasn’t an option because he was parked in a 10 minute zone and Diane was certainly getting jittery at the unfamiliar Costco at which she was dropped. The jitteriness was caused by the architects and builders of that particular Costco because the floor plan is the exact opposite of every other Costco floor plan in the know universe. What were they thinking?

Jerrie safely made it back to retrieve Diane, after getting lost only twice, and they returned, happily, to their quiet corner of Oregon. When they got home, Jerrie made six last attempts to resurrect his Apple, earning success on the third try. He did it three more times just to make sure it worked. He was able to restore his system, recovering all 77,892 photos from his backup drive. Now he will make himself crazy trying to save them to a portable form of media now that he knows, for certain, that Apples don’t last forever, and the skill level of Best Buy Geeks are suspect. This was proven when Jerrie managed to resurrect his Apple using a software solution, which is apparently all his assigned Geek was allowed to do.

The resurrection wasn’t quick. It took, like 3 days. Seriously. Thankfully, Jerrie had his MacBook and iPad to keep him company as he worked through his mental issues regarding the possible loss of every photo he’s taken in the past 4 years. He sobbed for hours on end and, at one point, was told to knock it off her someone was going to call 911. He did, they didn’t. Still, he sobbed quietly when he thought no one was looking. He blamed the little black dog for all the little drops scattered around the house.

Ooops! Here he comes so I must quit. He’ll surely want to get an entry out there for all of you who are just riveted with amazing wonderment at what he might “say” next, so don’t tell him what I’ve been telling you … OK?

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Hey! What’s going on here. Looks like someone, or thing, has been using my computer without my permission. It’s still warm from someone’s lap, and it wasn’t mine. Dammit, Jim! (that’s a Star Trek reference, by the way). My laptop should only be warmed by MY lap, not some interloper’s.

Let’s see … ah … yesterday Diane invited everyone we knew to her Mom’s house to celebrate her Mom’s 85th birthday. The birthday was actually on the 8th, so at the time of the party she was already well on her way to 86. That didn’t matter. And, it turns out that the only people we know well are family members … 25 of them, to be precise. Well, not all of them were family members, but that didn’t matter because it was pot luck and the food was welcome.

Diane wanted to do this at her Mom’s house because she has a creek running through the back yard. It’s real low now so the little kidlets would have a place to splash around.

Here’s Lydia in the creek with her cousins, Gilligan and Baylee …

Here’s a picture of all the small children at the gathering …

That’s Danyell, Baylee, Juliette, Gilligan, and Jerrie. Danyell and Juliette are our two Great Grand Daughters. Baylee, Gilligan, and Jerrie are their aunts. Neat.

Here’s a picture of the whole gang … our kids and their kids … and their kids’ kids …

Diane’s Mom is on the left, back row.

The day before this momentous event, Diane made me stay up until almost midnight to make my patented nationally acclaimed potato salad. She won’t let me make it during the day when someone might be able to see how I do it.  So, at risk of life and limb, I’m going to share it all with you, here and now.

It involves potatoes, oddly enough, onions, mayonnaise, mustard, salt, pepper, mustard, celery seed, a big bowl, a potato peeler, and a little time. Oh, and a big pan half full of water.

First, get a 10 pound bag of potatoes and remove 4 of them from the bag. Put them in a special place in the garage, or basement, where you won’t forget where they are until they start smelling real bad and are hard to pick up. Peel the rest of the potatoes. I had to do this because my pan isn’t big enough to hold the entire 10 pound bag. Perhaps you have a larger pan.

After peeling them, get the large knife that I failed to include above, and cut them into fairly small cubes then place them into the pan of water into which you have already dumped a bunch of salt. The amount of salt is subjective, based mostly on the condition of your blood pressure.

“Why,” you may ask, “must I cut the potatoes into ‘fairly small’ cubes?”

“Actually,” I would respond, “you don’t. You don’t have to cut them up at all. Just put them in the pan entirely whole”

The problem with that, however, is doing so wastes space in the water and makes it take longer to cook them. Fairly small cubes cook much quicker, but you must be weary, watching them every minute so they don’t cook into mush which will result in mashed potato salad.

Considering that you chose the proper path for deconstructing the potatoes, once the potatoes are cooked and you have spread them out to cool, they might look something like this …

I used five normal dinner plates, one platter, and one smaller dessert plate. There was no conscious thought given to the selection of the plates. That’s just the way it worked out. If you have a big enough pan to cook the entire 10 pounds of potatoes you may have to use bigger plates, or more of the smaller ones. I don’t know.

While the potatoes are cooling you’ll have time to mix up the mayonnaise, salt, pepper, mustard, and celery seed. Doing this will require the use of a smaller bowl that I failed to mention above in the list of required participants in this exercise.

Oh … did I mention eggs? You’ll need eggs, too. About this many …

I’ll explain the eggs in a minute … right now, you’re mixing the mayo and other stuff.

To get the right amount of mayo, use a large spoon and dip out about half the jar, if it’s a big jar. If it’s a smaller jar, use two of them. The mustard is used to give the dressing a little “zing” and some color. Salt and pepper to taste, and mix it all up. Once that’s done, get your celery seed container, and sprinkle on the mixture until it’s covered with the seeds. Mix thoroughly.

Leave all this on the counter and take the eggs to the sink where you will be peeling the wrappers off them. What I forgot to tell you was how to cook the eggs … put them in a pan, cover then with water, bring water to a boil, turn off the burner, cover, and leave them alone for a while, until you’re ready to peel them.

Peel the eggs under cold running water. eat all those that don’t peel cleanly. You should wind up with almost 8 of them for the salad. Put them aside for later use. It doesn’t matter if you put them in in a container or just leave them on the counter.

While the potatoes were cooking, you should have been chopping up a bunch of dill pickles and 1/3 of a very large onion. I use a chopper thing, but you can use anything sharp, like a knife. Any kind of knife that will cut an onion. Even a plastic one. When done chopping, put them aside for later use.

Now the potatoes are cool, and it’s time to start mixing everything together. Here’s how.

Get the large bowl. The biggest one you can find. The one I use is a yellow tupperware one. Maybe you have one of those. If so, use it.

To begin, dump one of the plates of potatoes into the bowl. Go find the bowls of chopped pickles and onions, and put a small handful of each on top of the potatoes. Then add a couple of large spoons full of the dressing mix. Chop up  two of the eggs and put them on top. Do this for each plate of potatoes, until everything is all in the bowl. Then get a large spoon with holes in it and mix it all up, but don’t over mix it because it will turn into mashed potato salad, the same as if you had over cooked the potatoes in the first place. You don’t want that. Trust me, no one will eat it … unless you make some kind of gravy for it. I don’t know how to do that.

Now that you have everything mixed up put the bowl in a refrigerator overnight so the flavors mix properly. If the reason you made the salad is for a more immediate use, that’s OK. I’ve actually served my potato salad warm which adds an unexpected element that people normally don’t expect. Maybe that should be “… that normal people don’t expect.” Whatever.

OK – that’s about it for potato salad. I’m sorry I don’t have a picture of what I made but it was all eaten. Now I have to make something else, but don’t know what it’s going to be. I’ll let you know what I come up with.

Oh .. you may have noticed the bottle of ketchup in one of the pictures. That was just there for added color. It needed red.

Witnessing Death

We’re all touched by death throughout our lives. Many of us are called to witness the transition from a viable entity, to an empty vessel. It’s a sad, helpless feeling that is sometimes accompanied with relief, if the passing spirit was suffering, but most often it’s just sad and shocking, and we’re filled with profound grief. We’d really rather be somewhere else. Let someone else be the witness. Not me.

Today it was my turn again when I held a hummingbird in my hand as it died. How profoundly sad that was, watching the life soundlessly escape that beautiful tiny body. It was all iridescent green with a spot of gold on it’s breast. So pretty.

This little bird wound up on our porch as a gift from Breezie, a testament of her hunting prowess. She was proud of her accomplishment and I couldn’t be mad at her because that’s how she survived the first year or so of her short life. Panzie alerted me of the injured bird when she made Breezie back off. I picked it up and cradled it in my hand, light as a cotton ball. It’s wings were askew, but the eyes were still alert and it moved it’s head around as if on guard, but made no attempt to flee. Ever the optimist, I thought maybe it was gathering it’s strength to once again fly, but that didn’t happen. Instead, it gathered it’s wings to itself, opened it’s little beak in a soundless cry, and was gone. By the clock it was about 2 minutes, but it seemed to take much longer. I hoped it knew I was friend at the end.

I held it for a bit, wondering what to do. The garbage came to mind, but that just didn’t seem right, so I wrapped it in a napkin and buried it in our tiny garden, near the feeder where it was captured. That seemed appropriate.

As this brief event transpired, I remembered all the other times I was called to witness death. Most were small animals when I was young, but the most significant was when I stood next to Diane and watched our first son, Brad, die. He was seven weeks old. His little heart just wasn’t up to the task. I didn’t think I would ever feel that kind of loss again, but then Mom and I were with Dad when he died in 1992. It was just as bad because things like that are compounded, bringing back memories of all deaths you’ve witnessed. Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think so.

So, the passing of this little bird today was as bad as any loss I’ve ever experienced because of the memories it evoked. It doesn’t get any easier and it isn’t any clearer about why I must endure as the witness. I suppose this sounds a lot like complaining because my experiences are few and infrequent, when this day and age young men and women are witnessing the deaths of their friends on a daily basis. I submit to you, however, that witnessing the loss of any life is traumatic, tragic, and memorable, no matter the reason for that loss. That’s why we’re there … to remember that loss and not allow it to go unrecorded. These memories help give those lives meaning.

It gives them immortality.

So, remember them.

Dogs … Insanity, and whatnot

Arrrrrgh! Dogs! Why can’t they use the bathroom like everyone else in this house? If that isn’t something they’re comfortable with, why can’t they at least have enough consideration to allow me, the keeper of their food, to get the sleep I need to function in a semi-normal manner at a later time in the morning? Why can’t they learn to use a can opener like the rest of us … why, why, why?

That was, of course, a rhetorical rant. I’m allowed. Also, I jotted that down a month or so ago and just found it in my “drafts” section. Since Ziva left to live with Jeff, the dogs haven’t really been a problem. Oh, they bark at pretty much anything that moves out front, but they don’t take extended trips into town like Ziva did. Funny thing is that she doesn’t appear to have any desire to run away from her new job of guarding Jerrie Anne.

The reunion is over, and everyone has gone their separate ways. Harriet came the furthest, from Oahu, Hawaii, and Eddie was second, from Oklahoma. One of the items I had all typed out last night, was the excellent visit Eddie and I had last night when he came up to the house for a visit. We got to talking and just lost track of time. I finally realized how late it was and suggested we eat something. Eddie admitted he was hungry and could eat, and suggested that he take Diane and I to dinner. As nice as that sounded, it would have meant I’d have to go change all my clothes, including my underwear, maybe shave, leave the house, stuff like that, so I talked him into a tuna sandwich, which I made. He was easily persuaded.

I like calling him Eddie because he’s a Doctor of Psychology who admits he really enjoys working with crazy people. Perhaps that’s why we get along so well. Anyway, we talked about all kinds of things and I was really proud that I could hold my own with this highly educated man with whom I grew up.

Today Doug and I went golfing, again. I don’t know why he insists that we golf every week. Wears me out, but I enjoy it a lot. And, I’m actually getting to the point where I can hit the ball fairly straight, when I hit it, and most of my putts go in on the second try, if not the first. My 5 wood is my favorite, but I have all these other club in my bag and, by golly, I’m determined to use them. So, I do, and it’s fun. The best part is the visiting, and I get to drive the cart.

Since I had to golf this morning, I got absolutely nothing else done today. I made an attempt to clean up my photo files, but it’s a tough job because it just doesn’t see right to delete photos with people in them, or pictures of places I can’t remember. I do take too many pictures, for sure, and lots of duplicates, but … it hurts me to delete them. So, I made a concerted effort to archive them to DVD’s. I got through 4 of them before discovering that I was doing it all wrong so now my computer is restoring all those files I deleted. See, I knew I shouldn’t have done it. I am, however, a bit nervous about having so many photos on my computer … and my backup drive, and various CDs laying around the house in no particular order, and even some 3.5 and 5.25 floppy disks. You may wonder how on earth I could possibly look at photos stored on a 5.25 disk since computers don’t even have floppy drives any more. Easy. I’m a hoarder and have all the parts I need to resurrect pretty much any kind of data. Doubt that I ever will, but I can if I have to. Maybe. In a pinch.

I think you’ve read enough for this one. It’s time for you to put your computer away and go to bed. G’nite.

50 Years Ago …

Today 48 members of my graduating class from 1962 celebrated our 50th year of separation from our High School educations. The original class was 88 strong, and 20 have predeceased us, so only 20 were unable to attend for reasons we may never know. But, of those 48, we were blessed with the presence of many who I haven’t seen during the past 50 years. Significantly, one of my first loves, Jennie, showed up. I was 8 years old again, conjuring up so many memories from so long ago. I won’t dwell on this because I don’t want to get in trouble with Diane, but it was awesome seeing her after all this time.

In all, there must have been eleventy dozen people, or so, making it hard to hear each other think. Talking was very difficult because of the steady thrum of surrounding conversations, but we talked anyway. Sometimes we shouted to be heard. It was all good.

There we were …

Here we are …

 

OK – I’m bummed. I had a whole lot of “stuff” added right here that, somehow, was omitted. Now I’m in the position where I must attempt to recreate it, or just make something else up. Or, just quit. Following the path of least resistance, I’m gonna quit. Tomorrow, perhaps, I will relate this morning’s breakfast, at the fairgrounds, Eddie’s visit to our home, and maybe some other things. Who knows?

Project Management

I’ve started this entry about a dozen times, trying to be witty and fun, but just can’t seem to get it going. So I’m just going to tell it like it is.

I’ve got so many projects going on that I’ve lost track. Consequently, I catch a lot of flack for not getting any of them done. It doesn’t matter that I have valid excuses for all of my failures, they’re still failures in the form of half done “things”. I can understand the frustration someone may experience because many things are started and simply remain in a state of “work in progress”, but my frustration is even greater because I see these “things” piling up all around me and there’s no end in sight. They just keep coming at me.

In a perfect world, I would start a project and finish it before moving on to the next one. The trouble is, however, there are too many variables for the world to be perfect. Nope. It’s like living in a pinball machine, bouncing from one bumper to the next, waiting to ultimately fall down that hole at the bottom then getting in line to be launched into the abyss once again.

And there you are, looking back at all the things that need to be done and there are so many that you just sit down and don’t do anything because there’s no logical place to resume something in progress. Consequently, nothing seems to get done.

But some things actually do have a happy ending. I successfully created 50 DVDs, and got 50 memory booklets printed, for my 50th class reunion. The DVD has all of our class pictures from 1950 thru 1962, as well as a lot from other reunions we’ve had over the years. The booklets are updated with biographies of everyone who has survived to this point, a section listing those we know have moved on from this plane of existence, and another section listing those we haven’t heard from, or about, in the past five years. Those are actual, completed projects.

Unfortunately, completing them had no impact on the other projects in progress … like my truck, the RV with the dismantled bathroom and missing ceiling … my messy shop … my messy desk … my messy dresser … my messy mess. Sounds depressing, doesn’t it? I can be that, at times, but I’ve learned to just ignore the voices that attempt to direct my actions in a manner with which I’m not totally aligned, unless, of course, that voice belongs to Dia…

Oops. I almost said Diane, forgetting for a moment, that I’m not allowed to do stuff like that any more. Actually, it wasn’t a bad reference … it was just an explanation that I listen to, and do everything that Diane’s voice tells me to do. Sometimes I get them out of sequence,  and sometimes I have to be reminded, but things tend to move forward … slowly.

The RV is becoming an issue because there’s a deadline associated with it’s completion. It’s sometime this month … two weeks, I think … that we’re going to join our group of Classic Winnebagoers at an RV dealership in Kent, Washington. That’s 138 miles, 2 hours and 29 minutes away from home. We’ll be kinda dry camping for 3 days in a parking lot so the bathroom has to work. It would be good, too, if the ceiling was reinstalled, and it’s imperative that we have TV reception.

Time to quit. The reunion starts at 0900 tomorrow morning. That’s right after my morning nap so I should be good to go, but need to get to bed so I can be ready to let the dogs out at 0600.