Over the years I’ve acquired a few skills that aren’t commonly associated with men. The only one I will mention today, perhaps ever, is that I crochet stuff. I learned from my Aunt Bert when I was 8 years old and have never forgotten how. I can follow patterns and everything.

There was a long lull in this kind of activity during my Navy career, but toward the end, when I went on several WESTPAC cruises, back to back, I picked it up again. A WESTPAC cruise, in case you’re wondering, is when the ship one is assigned to sails West to various points of interest in the Western Pacific rim. On the way they always stop at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. On the last two we stopped at Iwo Jima, not normally part of these kind of trips. Other locations are the Philippines Islands, Hong Kong, Australia, Korea, Japan, to name a few.

Anyway, spending time at sea for extended periods gives one a lot of free time once all the training evolutions are done for the day. So, I picked up my needle and yarn and started making doilies. They’re simple and quick, allowing me to get the feel for the needle once again. It’s like riding a bicycle.

When this activity began I was a Chief Petty Officer so had relative privacy in the CPO Mess. The challenge, mentally, was to get past the odd looks I received from the embarked Marines. I’m talking Gunnery Sergeants and up to Sergeant Majors. Tough guys, putting it mildly. These were the warriors we carried and they were ready to make an assault any where, any time. They trained incessantly so what they saw me doing was not a manly thing to do. Making doilies, for criminy sakes. Go figure.

After a few days, however, they accepted my behavior and started giving me sideways glances to see what I was making. When they started seeing finished products they approached me to see about making a trade for something so they could get one for their significant others. I obliged, of course, trading for various pieces of Marine gear.

Some of these doilies, and a table cloth I made, were sent to my Mom who, without my knowledge, entered them all in the Columbia County Fair. When I learned about this I also learned that I never got less than 2nd place competing with all the professional crocheters in the county. Not bad. Mom had all my ribbons mounted in a picture frame. Pretty special.

After retiring from the Navy I discovered a pattern for snow people so I made dozens of them and most of my family have them and haul them out at Christmas time when they know I’m going to visit. Diane thinks I should work on them all year round and sell them at craft fairs. I don’t do that, however, because then it would be a job. I’ve had jobs and don’t want another one. So, its a casual thing.

Here’s what they look like …

I have to admit they’re not like the pattern any more. I tend to exaggerate things a little.

Now, if you’re related, and don’t have a set of these, and fear that I might pay you a visit, put in your request. If you aren’t related, and want a set, they are $85. You, too, can put in your request.

Just kidding … I’ve never made a dime on these things and don’t intend to start now. If I did, it would be like … well, like work. I do it for fun. If you don’t have a set, and just have to have one, contact my agent. She’ll put you on the list. After that, it’s all about patience on your part.

Diane left me alone tonight. She went with Jennifer and Lydia to an ornament exchange. It’s that time of year.

Now I need to find something to watch on TV to keep my mind off power tools until she gets home.

Today we give thanks for all we have. It’s sad that we’re only legally allowed to do this once a year. We should do it more often, don’t you think? Honestly, I give thanks every single day for a myriad of things …

• … for my blessed bride who loves me, even though I’m faulty
• … for our children, grandchildren, great grandchildren
• … for living long enough to retire
• … for being able to hear beautiful sounds
• … for being able to smell the flowers
• … for the ability to see the sun coming up behind a snow capped mountain, the flowers in spring, and the
• … for being able to feel soft, fuzzy blankets, and soft, fuzzy pets
• … for a body, though flawed, that still seals up punctures rather quickly
• … for the ability to pay taxes and still keep the lights on

There are more, of course, but my mind gets to swirling about when I make any attempt to make any kind of comprehensive list. There are just so many of them…

Now, on a serious side, does this hat make my head look fat?

Maybe this one will thin things down, a little.

Whatever … I hope everyone has a joyous Thanksgiving and, if you are travelling, be safe.

A week! It’s been a week since I sat here in front of my over sized monitor, keyboard in hand, to share events about which most of humanity could care less. Some, though, do care. I can tell, because they look herein seeking wisdom which has always been a mystery to me. Well, they probably don’t “seek” wisdon, per se, but they get it, nonetheless.

It may not appear to most of you that there really is wisdom in shared nonesense. I’ve yet to discover what that is, but it’s got to be there, somewhere. Otherwise, why would I spend so much time doing this if I didn’t have wisdom to impart.

OK, you’re right. Wisdom has nothing to do with this. Most folks who write anything have a motive … a story to tell, fact or fiction. Most are a blend of both. I share all this based on simple beliefs, derived in my sleep, which have nothing at all to do with fact. Many of my favorite memories are based on fictional events.

Actually, the line where fiction becomes fact has long since been fatally blurred to the point where I don’t know where that fine point of demarcation really is. So, I stagger along that imaginary line, going back and forth, knowing that most of the time I’m on the wrong side of the line. That’s OK. I’m good with that. I also feel semi-safe knowing that I’ve already share, up front, that most of the events I relate are the result of delusion.

Once in a while, however, there is a moment of lucidity, where I seem able to communicate, even with strangers. As an example, this evening I had a phone call from someone in Ohio who wanted me to take a product survey. I paused, wondering if I should do it which gave the caller an opportunity to deliver her “hook” stating she only had to ask two questions to see if I even qualify to take the survey.

Since I feel qualified to answer most questions, whether or not I know the subject matter, and I didn’t want to NOT qualify for something as simple as this, I said, “OK.”

She said, “are you 18?”

I said, “physically, or mentally?”

She said, after a suppressed snicker, “either.”

Without pause I said, “my wife would say No.”

She said, again suppressing a snicker, “thank you” and hung up. Just like that.

I felt cheated because I didn’t get the 2nd question! I’m pretty sure she thought Diane was monitoring the conversation, shaking her head vigorously, silently telling me not to participate. In fact, I was all alone in a room, by myself, and thought up the answer without prompting. All. By. Myself. Alone. Which goes to prove I can carry on a conversation with a total stranger.

I guess I should be happy because most calls of this nature, to which I respond, end promptly with a click when the caller hangs up in answer to my query about the color of their underwear. Sometimes I just ask if they’re wearing any. Once in a while I get an answer. None have ever shared, with me, how inappropriate my questions are. I’m still waiting for the day that happens. I’ve got an answer for them.

Let’s see … what’s been going on.

Last I heard, Tom’s hiccups stopped and he was blessed with uninterrupted sleep. Also, Linda’s diagnosis is still up in the air, but it sounds like the docs do not believe she has cancer. They’re just siphoning off gallons of fluid from her … one trip they left her 47 pounds lighter. She related that it’s not a fun way to lose weight, but it works.

Other stuff has happened, for sure, but they escape me at the moment. It’s probably because I’m trying to recover from the Ducks’ devastating loss to Stanford. Now Notre Dame is #1 in the nation, not the Ducks. I suspect they self destructed because those people who know everything predicted that Stanford would lose by 3 touchdowns.

So, now, being the fair weather fan that I am, I’ll be cheering on the Oregon State Beavers. They play the Ducks next weekend in the annual “Civil War” between the two Oregon schools. If the Beavers win, and Stanford loses to UCLA, the Beavers should win the Pac-12 North. Then they would play UCLA, Pac-12 South winner, to see who goes to the Rose Bowl. Also, USC of the Pac-12 South are out of contention, for anything, but they can de-throne unbeaten Notre Dame this coming weekend. Wouldn’t that be fun. I normally don’t cheer for USC, but they will hear me next weekend.

That’s it, sports fans.

This didni’t go quite the direction I intended … well, maybe it is, because I didn’t really have a direction. Like normal.

Back again, just like a bad penny.

Today I got to see Tom for the first time since his “event”. He’s scooting around in a wheelchair which at first unsettled me because he’s always been such a vibrant guy. After giving that a bit of thought, however, I was elated that he was able to do that. Most people who have strokes are paralyzed and have problems with speech. Not Tom. He had a ‘rare’ kind of stroke at the base of his brain stem that affected his vision and numbed his left leg. His speech is fine, with the exception of continuous hiccups. That’s been going on for the past 10 days during which time he’s only been able to sleep about 25 hours. He’s in the ‘Cadillac’ of facilities for physical therapy, according to Linda, and he has the willpower to fight his way back to his feet. With us all helping, that shoudln’t be a problem.

Now, for Linda … we’re waiting on the medical establishment to issue a determination as to whether or not they think she has some sort of cancer. She, like Tom, is upbeat, thinking positive about all of this. I find it amazing that they can do that and look to them as shiny examples of bravery. You know me, I like anything shiny.

Before going to Portland we took Diane’s Mom, Jean, to church. It was interesting to see who noticed the replaced speaker material. Many did and, I must admit, it look pretty darn good. Barbara was especially happy that I replaced the spotlight that shines down on the piano. I may not have mentioned that previously. I did it while the major tall step ladder was in the church because a simple 8 foot ladder won’t reach.

After visiting Tom, we headed down to the shores of the Willamette River where we had reservations for a Veteran’s Day lunch at McCormick & Schmick’s. Nice place, good food, and excellent service. I got a free meal because I could prove I’m a bonofide veteran. We even got free parking because the automated lot thingy didn’t work so some ‘remote’ person opened the gate and let us out after a short conversation on the little box by the gate.

The trip home took us by the Home Depot at Jantzen Beach. It was amazing to us because since the last time we were there they’ve ripped down and replaced most of the buildings. Even the one with the old Jantzen Beach carousel is gone. Amazing. Guess we should get out a little more often, huh? The reason for Home Depot was to get some replacement tile for my shower because I destroyed part of it. Now I have to put it back together.

We’re home now after dropping Jean off. We went inside to look at her toilet. Diane wanted me to do that, so I did. I looked at it until she told me it was time to go home.

Now I’m done.

Happy Veteran’s Day … hug a sailor

Yesterday I saw a picture of Susan sitting in the grandstands of some stadium, somewhere on the East Coast. If I would have given it a little thought, Connecticut would have come to mind. But, I didn’t, so it didn’t. I just thought the picture was good. She was all bundled up, like it was cold or something. Then, as this was on Facebook, where I normally don’t go, I found an entry that caused me to believe she was at the UCONN vs. Pennsylvania game. As luck would have it, I was watching that very same game on my West Coast television set. All of this pointed out to me how nifty technology is. Every time the cameras panned the crowd I looked for her but never saw her. So, I kept the picture up and looked at it when the cameras showed the crowd. Susan is the one in the red coat … with the trend-setting stocking had. I love it. Ain’t she adorable?

Connecticut won that game, BTW.

Sometime during the day yesterday Diane and I went to the church to clean it and to see if we could replace the material covering the opening in front of the pipe organ. We got it down with only a little difficulty. Then we carefully removed the existing material which was ripped, really dusty, and ruined a long time ago when someone painted it. This is what it looked like once removed.

The white part of the design is what frame looks like. The dark is pretty much mostly dirt. It was very brittle and falling apart.

After cleaning up the frame up we stapled new speaker material to it and it came out just great The color almost matches the wall perfectly, which was our goal. Diane ordered it online and turns out it was from a company in Eugene, Oregon. So, it arrived very quickly.

Getting the frame back in place was more than Diane and I could do alone, so she called the Walters family for assistance. All the boys were out and about so Lydia and Jennifer came to help. The frame is about six feet square and not easy to handle.

To facilitate lifting it into place, I loosely bolted two long sticks to either side of the frame bottom so two people on the floor could push it up into place while I guided it and bolted it into place. Since I was on the ladder, and everyone was helping, we didn’t get any pictures of this evolution. But, we have one of the finished product. That’s Lydia on the ladder with Grandma holding the ladder hoping she won’t fall off.

I don’t remember who the bald guy is but he has the same kind of suspenders that I’ve got. Hmmmm.

Today I was allowed to sleep in until 0715. I didn’t have to get up, but once the dogs realized that my eyes were open they felt a need to go out back. That began our routine for this day. While they are out  get out the pouch food and fixed their bowls. They get really cranky if it’s not ready when I let them back in. So, to avoid conflict, I don’t let them back in until its ready for them to eat.

Then I made a pot of coffee, and sat reading my book until 0900 when Diane got up. She’s been sleeping really well since I removed the moldy sheetrock from the master bathroom. It was pretty minor, but we could smell it and had to get rid of it. Now I must put it back together, one of these days. When Diane reminds me to do it. Until then I will enjoy taking showers in her bathroom because it’s warm in there. My bathroom doesn’t have a heater. I’ll stall as long as I can but she’s going to catch on and make me do it before the month is out. Maybe only a week. We’ll see.

Now we’re home and I’m biding my time until 1930 when the Oregon vs. Cal State game starts. The ranks of unbeaten teams is falling, most significant with #1 Alabama. As Long as Oregon keeps winning, it can only get better for them. At this time they are ranked #3 in the country just behind Kansas State. That’s the BCS ranking. Oregon is #2 in all the “human” rankings.

Go Ducks!!

Today I was forced to make another trip to the VA hospital in Portland. We had to be there by 0900 which means we had to be up and conscious by 0630, out of the house by 0730 in order to arrive by 0830 because we didn’t know exactly where we were going. Just what was going to happen. I was having an EMG test on right leg to see what’s going on with the nerves in that area of my body. An EMG test is all about how good any given nerve conducts electricity. Exciting stuff.

We arrived at the hospital shortly after 0830, as planned, and quickly discovered that I check in for the EMG test at the same office I use for physical therapy.

About EMG tests, in case you’ve never had one. Depending on the doctor who does it, they can be rather benign, or extremely painful, because of favorite method of the doctor involved.

On the lower end of the pain scale the doctor uses simple contacts on the skin, like they use with EKG machines. They are usually placed on either side of a joint. The doctor induces an electrical pulse in one probe and measures how long it takes to get to the other contact. Since they know how long it takes for the pulse to travel a certain distance, they know if the nerve is good or bad.

On the high end of the pain scale the doctor uses hypodermic needles which they jam into your muscles, as close to the nerve as possible, and induce an electrical pulse using those babies. Trust me, those really hurt a lot. We never made it to the end of that session because I made that Nazi doktor stop what she was doing the second time she jammed one of those probes into my neck.

In the middle of the pain range is the doctor who uses really long, thin wires, like acupuncture needles, to induce and measure the pulse. These aren’t too bad until it’s drilled into your thigh and he tells you to flex that muscle. It makes the attached oscilloscope go nuts, and it really hurts. But, you do it, more than once, because you want to know what’s going on.

Today ranked just below the Nazi Doktor who did my first EMG test. Dr. Pagel used a combination of taped contacts and the dreaded needle. Only one, but it was about three inches long, and not fun. As the doctor worked he kept talking, to distract me, and I asked questions to stay distracted. He shared a bit of info about what he was doing at one point, telling me he was only sticking the needle in about an inch.

The first jab, on the top of my thigh, actually didn’t hurt much, but it went down hill from there. He jabbed me in the inside of my thigh, on the outside of my thigh, right next to my shinbone, and a few other places. Then he had me turn over which caused me great concern because I was afraid he was going to stab me in the back.

We discussed this briefly and I learned that he wouldn’t have to do anything in my back unless the tests in the back of my leg were normal. Then he stabbed me in the back of my thigh and I was rewarded with a motorboat sound indicating the nerve supplying that muscle wasn’t working correctly. He stabbed me in the calf muscle and determined the same thing. Then he stabbed me in my left calf muscle so I could hear what a good nerve sounded like. Those don’t make any noise on the oscilloscope.

I quietly thanked God that the nerve in the back of my thigh wasn’t working right because that meant no back stabbing. I was very relieved. I know for a fact that being stabbed in the back with those needles is no fun at all because my friend JP had that done and he said he was hoping he’d die, right there on the spot. Can’t say I blame him after what I went through. I’m sure it was the same doctor he had, too.

The diagnosis is S1 radiculopathy. Some of you may think I’m yanking your chain, but I’m not. Honest. When I first heard what he said, I thought it was ridiculopathy, which was ridiculous, of course. Diane found it a bit amusing, however, thinking it was very appropriate for me.

Now I need to get an MRI of my lower back so they can zero in on the real problem and see if it’s fixable. Could be I’ll just have to live with it, like I have been for the last 30-40 years. It has, however, been getting steadily worse over time, and drugs help, so I’ll survive whatever solution is determined. One possibility is lower back surgery which, I was told, is very successful. This means to me, of course, that I could be one of the non-success stories, and wind up in a wheel chair the rest of my life. That would seriously suck.

Whatever the outcome, I’ll be just fine. I’m only sharing this info so you can make an educated decision if you are ever faced with the need for an EMG test. Hopefully you will never have the need.