Yesterday was very relaxing for us because we didn’t go anywhere except lunch. That, and St. Vincent DePaul’s. It’s been a while since Diane’s been in a Goodwill store so this satisfied that need. She found some lovely end tables that we both thought were quite adorable and she really, really wanted to get them. But, risking divorce, I put my foot down and said “No!”. From habit, I put my hands up in a defensive manner and squinted really hard, but nothing happened. After a bit I felt safe enough to open my eyes and discovered that she wasn’t even there any longer. She was off looking at something else. Apparently, putting my foot down will not result in severe punishment as I had initially thought it would. So, I won’t have to repack the Buick to make room for end tables we don’t need.
Before visiting the thrift store we had an excellent lunch at the local Village Inn. As soon as we entered Gene started giving the manager and waitress a hard time which really concerned me because we hadn’t even sat down and he was positioning us to have someone spit on our plates before looking at a menu. As luck would have it, however, he and Shirley know those folks and they were engaging in normal, harmless, friendly dialogue. It was all good.
After that we went to Wal*Mart for some needed “things”. The girls shopped while Gene and I just hung our near the registers. We weren’t sure why everyone was staring and smiling until Diane showed us this picture.
We wound up in front of a TV to watch the Oregon vs. Washington football game before 1930. The game started out slow but ended normally with Oregon winning 52-21. Fun to watch and gratifying that the Washington Huskies did not give up. They played hard to the final whistle.
This morning we all got up early because we went to church. It was an excellent service which we enjoyed very much. We learned the senior method of conducting communion, too. Four guys go up front and each get a platter of the absolutely smallest saltines I’ve even seen, and then bracket the crowd, passing the trays back an forth. Everyone serves themselves. They were so tiny that I took six of them. Once everyone has their tiny crackers, the pastor blesses it and everyone partakes. They do the same thing with the wine, then they send around a little basket to collect the cups. By the time all that was through, I was ready for a donut, which I got at the coffee hour following the service. I don’t mean that in a disrespectful manner because, as I said previously, we enjoyed the service very much. Everyone was very friendly.
After church, we headed over to the mall where one of the 38 Wal*Marts in the area resides, and had lunch at the all you can eat Chinese Food Place. Tempting fate, I had six different kinds of dead shrimp, and a large glass of water. And noodles. I love those noodles.
From there we went back to the house and packed our duds so we could hit the road. Our goal is Flagstaff which, at this exact point in time, is only about 45 miles away. We left Mesa at 1400, almost exactly, so we’ve made good time. The only stop we made, before leaving town, was for gas. It’s only $3.70 a gallon there. In California we filled up on base for $4.20 a gallon, and it got far worse before we crossed the border into Arizona. Interesting that only California was affected with an attack of really spendy gas just in time for Columbus Day Weekend.
Getting our of town was pretty painless this being Sunday and all. The only close encounter we had was with a younger oriental male, in a newer Infinity, who leisurely passed us on the left, then pulled in front of us with about 8 feet to spare. Then he slowed down, and leisurely pulled into the right lane for the next exit. I waved at him, to let him know he accomplished his purpose of getting our attention. He made sure to slow down enough so we could see that he was apparently handicapped, having only one finger on his left hand, which he held against the window. I was immediately sorry that I had assumed he was just another ordinary jerk who was trying to spread discord and drive a wedge between Orientals and Americans. Had he been the latter he would have succeeded to a point, had I let him. But I didn’t. We just continued on our way knowing that he’s not through in this life and, if he might, perhaps, consider himself a Chinese/American that he’s not really an American.
Sorry … I was going on nicely before that and all the sudden this stump popped up and I felt the need to climb on it. Must be time to terminate this one.