Family and Food

Posted on October 11, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

Today we took another trip to Portland. That makes 4 times this week that we had to go to the Greater Portland Area, or GPA, if you will.

Today we went to Nonna Emilia’s Italian restaurant on Shaw Street in Aloha. For those of you with Hawaii on your mind, this Aloha is pronounced a-low-ah. So, it should be spelled Aloah, don’t you think?

The purpose of the visit was to see Julie, Duncan, and Jake during a lull in their whirlwind visit to see all of the colleges in the greater Pacific Northwest to see which one is right for Jake. He’s a senior this year, in Phoenix, AZ. AZ is an abbreviation for Arizona, in case you needed to know that.

About the abbreviations for states. I disagree with their methods used by whoever it was that determined what they should be. The choices aren’t consistent with the names. Like AZ, for instance. I think all the abbreviations should just be the first and next to last letters of the name. That would make Arizona AN, Alaska AK, Arkansas AA, Alabama AM, Oregon OO, California CI, Washington WO, etc., ad infinitum, forever. States with two names, like North Dakota will different, like NDT, and SDT, North Carolina NCN, and SCN. Florida would be FI, Tennessee TE, Connecticut CU. Get it? It’s consistent.

Just a thought.

Here’s the group that met up today …

Left to right it’s, Jean, Terri, Jennifer, Jeran, Diane, Daniel, Bill, Carolyn, Julie, Jerrie, Jake, Duncan, Lydia, Jean.

Didn’t think about it at the time, but we have Jean’s holding us together.

Did I mention the food was good? I sat next to Jake who had dead chicken Marsala, which came with a side of spaghetti that he didn’t want. I offered him $1.50 for it, he accepted, and I ate it. It worked out great because I had spaghetti for my main meal and my plate was already covered with sauce so the waitress didn’t know I had seconds. Jake’s side dish was just about as big as my main dish, so I ate twice. I will not be hungry for a couple of days, now. And, I owe Jake a buck and a half, unless Diane paid him, because I didn’t. My wallet was empty, as it has been for the past two weeks. Diane doesn’t let me carry money because I tend to spend it and don’t remember what I bought.

I’m A Weeble? Really?

Posted on October 11, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

This morning Diane called me a Weeble when she warned the dog to look out because I was wobbling around a bit in order to position myself to give Panzee a belly rub with my foot. Yes, I wobble, which is not a surprise to many people, just to those who fleetingly viewed me as a solid, stand up citizen. No, I’m not one of those. I’m a citizen, true, and I stand up for our flag, but I’m far from solid.

I sway in a gentle breeze, turning to the left, mostly, but also to the right, if the wind is right, causing Diane less and less concern as she gets used to my new abilities related to vertical acuity, and not embarrassing her by falling in public. I’ve only done that once, but cannot remember the occasion because it was insignificant. A mere blip on my radar that went mostly unnoticed be everyone except the girl who screamed.

Calling me a Weeble makes me wonder if there is more to the name than a quick look could ascertain. Everyone knows what a Weeble is, right? You know, “Weebles Wobble But They Don’t Fall Down”? Remember that? Everyone had to have them because they were so cute, and they couldn’t be knocked over.

However, after being compared to one this morning, the name has been circling in my head wondering if there is an underlying meaning to her comparison. Just a moment ago I realized that she’s making a reference to my less than adequate sized testicles. What she’s really saying is wee balls. That’s got to be it. I’ll confront her in a couple of weeks about her underhanded name calling, if I remember. Or, perhaps within a few moments of her reading this, as I know she will.

In my youth, I was able to walk straight down that thin, well-defined line of decorum, never causing anyone on either side grief, or dismay about what I said or did. With Diane’s back-handed reference comparing me to a Weeble one might think, on the surface, that she’s concerned about me straddling the line, more than walking it, due to the increasing wobble in my gait as age overtakes me, and my brain isn’t quick enough to interpret my balance correctly causing it to over correct. It’s like the cruise control in Diane’s Buick that works just fine until a hill appears, then the vehicle slows down from 55 to 50, then shifts and speeds up to 60+ before settling back down to 55 just before the hill is crested. Doing that causes problems for everyone on both sides of the line defined specifically for me, for my passage through this life.

No, it’s not about that at all. It’s all about the size of one’s testicles. I’m sure.

That’s all I got for now. Later we’re going to Portland to have lunch with some southern relatives, Diane’s side, from Arizona – Julie, Duncan, and Jake. We’ll also get to see Bill, Carolyn, Terri, and Lisa. We’re eating Italian at Nona Whats-its-place in Beaverton.

Now I’m going to stop, get a mirror, and contemplate my Weebles.

My Skin, and Politics

Posted on October 10, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

Apparently I’m not going to die from the bee stings after all. I guess the bees that got me had depleted venom supplies, except for the one that viciously attacked my hand. He had a full load and injected every bit of it. The ones who stabbed me in the neck were less problematic. They just left bumps that don’t itch, and only hurt, a lot, when they attempted to inject.

The dermatologist I saw today came in armed with her freeze gun and happily froze whatever I wanted frozen, in the way of annoying spots. The first thing she did, however was check my entire body for spots she considered to be a potential problem. As I recall, she nailed at least six of them. One was on my lip so, despite the bee’s unwillingness to sting me on the face, I wound up with a pouty lip after all. Nice.

I didn’t mention that last night I slept for about nine hours, straight, which is a modern-day record for me. The dogs didn’t even wake me up this morning. I guess Benadryl and ambien work pretty well together. I’m sure that’s why. It’s all about better living through chemistry.

After the dermatology event, we went to the Restore Store. I know Diane had something in mind when we went, and she even told me, but all I know is we came out with two chairs for our new dining room table. We needed those because the 8 we had with the other table went away with the table, as you may recall. We actually found a couple that look OK at the table. Now we have 4 chairs at the table.

Oh, and I got a huge light bulb for the huge socket I have in the basement. It’s 175 watts so should cast a really good shadow behind whatever it shines on. I may even go blind from staring at it. I think it says that on the box.

Once home, we ate lunch – I had the remainder of yesterday’s steak and Diane had a grilled cheese sandwich. Then watched TV the rest of the afternoon.

That’s pretty much the day, except for the part about Diane making a lot of noise when she breathes. I knew she was having trouble because she wasn’t fast forwarding through the commercials. She was sleeping, instead. The rattle was getting worse, so I hooked up her nebulizer and forced her to inhale deeply.

I didn’t force her to do anything. I just hooked it up and she did what needed to be done. She will be fine in the morning.

So – how is the government shutdown affecting you? I don’t recall voting for that, or telling my congressman or senator that I thought it would be a good idea for them to fiddle with my life in this manner. They didn’t eve ask me. For that, I’m upset.

If only they would have come to me …

I think we should just do away with everyone in Washington D.C. … fire them all. Then, divide the USA into three parts based on time zones and name them something catchy, like USA-1, 2, 3, 4, reading left to right on pretty much any time zone map. By default, Alaska, Hawaii and Guam would become part of USA-1. Puerto Rico would be part of USA-4. There would be no more DST changes to clocks. Everyone would just keep using the same time for their zone all the time, like Arizona and Hawaii do now. Each zone would select two people to cover the entire zone for taxes and expenditures. No spending would be allowed unless cleared through me because I would be the king.

I think it’s time to wrap this up. Perhaps I’ll come up with a more creative way to resolve the government’s problem while I sleep.

Angry Bees

Posted on October 9, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

Today was totally awesome, right up to about 4-5 hours ago.

I’m better now, but still recovering. Here’s what happened …

First thing this morning, about 8:30 a, I donned my work clothes, using my nifty yardstick suspenders to hold them up because they are too big now. That’s not totally true, of course, because I always use those suspenders on my work pants. It’s kind of like a trade mark. Jennifer gave them to me as a joke, but I wear them almost every day when I’m working. I love those suspenders.

Before doing garage ‘stuff’, I hitched the trailer up to the mower because it was full of wood, from a dismantled couch, and I didn’t want it to be that way. So, I carted it down to the burn pile and tossed it all out. On the way back, I stopped along the fence, over which hangs our neighbor’s walnut tree, and gathered up a little more than one Avon box lid of walnuts. The last time I did that, I had about 5 lids full, one layer.

The walnuts got me into the ‘picking’ mood, so I moved on to the two apple trees that still have fruit on them, and added them to the trailer. There were at least 10 dozen apples, many of which will be converted into applesauce.

Shortly before 9:50 am, Diane took off in a panic because she had an appointment to get her flu shot at her doctor’s office but she couldn’t find her purse. She drove herself anyway, which is definitely against the law. I briefly considered calling the police to turn her in but figured that wouldn’t end well for me. So, I ignored her infraction and got busy moving ‘stuff’ around in the garage, something I do once in a while that looks like work, but actually isn’t. In this instance, however, I actually did some constructive rearranging, moving a pair of captain chairs, that Diane bought at a yard sale a couple of years ago, to get them into a location less annoying to me. They were destined for the ’79 Winnebago, but I actually like my seat so stalled her out. When we returned from vacation, those chairs were right smack in the path we use to get to the Yogurt Refrigerator in the garage. It’s imperative that we be able to get to that refrigerator in the morning, especially when it has yogurt in it.

While I was doing that, Jeff appeared out of nowhere to pick up those very same chairs. If I had waited just a bit longer, I wouldn’t have had to move them at all. Still, it was a good thing to see Jeff, as it is to see all relatives. In this case, if you don’t know, Jeff is our son. I helped him get the chairs to his van then offered to give him the Garage Organ, also. He accepted so, hopefully, that will go away soon. At this rate, in another couple of years, we might have the other side of the garage cleaned out to the point where I can actually park my car in there. Diane’s been using the garage since we moved in because it was a rule that I make that so, or she would make it necessary for me to employ a lawyer to talk over how to divide up the property. So, she can drive in and out at will. Sometimes that’s what she does on a rainy day. She’ll get in the car, back out into the driveway, sit there for a moment, then drive back into the garage. I don’t know why she does that. Kinda quirky.

She really does do that, but only when one of us forgets something. She didn’t do that today. She just drove off without her license. As soon as she was gone, I found her purse laying on the printer. Actually, it was one of the many purses she leaves lying around the house, but I know the one on the printer was the one she wanted because it had her wallet in it.

Jeff left with the chairs, then Diane showed up shortly thereafter with a Buick full of food because she took her Mom, Jean, to Safeway to restock the depleted larders. We don’t really have a larder, but we have empty shelves and drawers where food used to be. Now the Yogurt Refrigerator actually has yogurt in it. And, I have milk to drink. She bought me a couple of bagels, too. I love those things, but can’t eat too many of them because they make my pants too tight.

After unloading the Buick, Diane checked her cell phone messages and discovered she had missed a call from KayKay, Ozzie’s hair dresser. He gets a poodle-do about every 36 days, and he always needs it. When the yard is wet, he probably should have one a week because he’s so short that I can’t cut the grass low enough to keep it from hitting his belly. He’s a mess for most of those 36 days, but for the first few he looks great and actually smells good. So, off Diane went to get him back. He was wearing a cute little neckerchief with Jack-o-lanterns on it which I took off right away. He and I have talked about those things and he’s let me know he really doesn’t like them. But, KayKay always puts one on him.

Somewhere during the afternoon the guy from the Habitat For Humanity Restore Store showed up with his trailer to pick up our incredibly heavy dining room table and the couch Diane didn’t want any more. After those things went away, Diane strongly encouraged me to mow the yard. The grass was actually almost dry so I took the hint and fired up the lawn mower, pumped up the front tires, which always almost go flat in a couple of days, attached all the required parts for sucking up the cut grass, and got to work.

I went real slow, and only put the mower deck on 5 instead of 4, like normal. I’m not sure if those numbers relate to inches or not. For me, it’s just a ‘setting’ I use. Seems to be a good one, especially when the grass is dryer. I apparently went slow enough to keep the output tube from clogging up, because I didn’t have to stop one time. I just mowed merrily along, without a care in the world. Well, that’s not entirely true because I really do have cares. It’s just that I really like mowing the yard. Really odd, isn’t it?

When I was done I took the clippings down to the burn pile, around which I have a very nice arc of years worth of grass clippings. I’ve never turned it, ever. I just keep adding to it, and it just seems to sink into the ground. I’ve discovered that under all that grass is some really great dirt that Diane won’t use. She still insists on buying dirt at Wal*Mart for the things she puts in pots. I’ve given up on trying to convince her to use MY dirt. So, it’s just going to continue sinking into the ground, making more and more terrific dirt.

I drove around the back of the grass clipping arc, near our lower fence, and backed the mower up over a low spot. This makes it easier to dump the bags, of which I have three. When I empty them, I always rotate them so they all get equal time getting filled up. In a cavalier fashion, I flipped my seat up over the steering wheel, like I always do so the bagger lid will stay open, and walked around behind the mower. Then I dumped my bags.

On the third bag there appeared before me an angry herd of yellow jackets, the kind that live in the ground. I guess they discovered all that great dirt and decided to call it home and were just a little ticked when I dumped more grass on their entry. Blocking their doorway created a situation where those on the outside, who wanted back in, went into attack mode and started dive bombing me.

Bees have never bothered me much, especially when Diane is with me because they like her better. This time, however, I was the only target. The first indication I had that I was in peril was the critter stabbing the back of my right hand through my work glove. He was really digging in when I flicked him away with my left hand, so I thought I probably should vacate the area, which I did. But, the bees followed me all the way back to the house, which is about 150 feet from the burn pile. I thought they’d give up, but they didn’t, so I ran up the stairs to the kitchen door, opened it briefly to call for help.

Diane came right away, but she wouldn’t come out, and I don’t blame her. She’s very allergic to stings. Me? I’m impervious to them, I though. I just kept swatting them, and turning around so Diane could see if there were any bees still clinging to my clothes, which they weren’t because in a coordinated assault they targeted my uncovered neck where they stung me about 6-7 times. They also got my right arm 3-4 more times, in well-selected locations all the way up, and one of them got me on my right side, just below my armpit. I think one also gnawed through my jeans and got me on the toughest part of my knee. That one must have been a dare between two of he attackers, or perhaps some sort of initiation.

Once Diane confirmed that she didn’t see any more bees clinging to me, and I didn’t see any buzzing about, I shed my clothes right there on the porch and rushed into the house. Diane was thankful that I had forgotten that today is Underwear Optional Day. It’s something I started when I was working at PGE, but it never seemed to catch on. You know, kinda like casual Friday, but different?

So, that’s what I’ve been recovering from for the past number of hours. The sore places where I got my shots yesterday, and the bee stings today just kinda made my day a whole lot more interesting. If I had thought quick enough, since they were already biting me, maybe I could have convinced one of those bees to give me some cute, pouty lips. Instead, my right hand is about twice the size of the left, but the fingers still work, and the remainder of my right arm is a mess. I can’t see my neck, but my nerve endings are, even right now, making it abundantly clear that I have been seriously assaulted. It hurts, but I didn’t cry. I just made the “Sucking SSS” sound for a bit, then decided to just tough it out.

To help me, Diane cooked a really good steak, which we shared. I love steak.

After dinner we sat on our couch and watched some of the shows that recorded during our absence last week. Afterwards, Diane held my hand until it quit hurting. She’s good to me that way.

Now you know. Please don’t feel sorry for me, unless you really want to. I actually discovered those bees when I burned down the burn pile a couple of weeks ago. Then I forgot about them.

Silly me.

Home Sweet Home

Posted on October 8, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

OK – we’re back!

Got home last night after 2300, and actually made it to bed before midnight. The dogs seemed happy to see us which is good because we weren’t sure what kind of reception we’d get. Sometimes they can be down right mean when they want to be. Not mean in a physical way, but more mental, like ignoring you, or looking out the side of their face at you without actually turning their head in your direction. It’s very disconcerting when they do that. Ozzie does it best. But not last night. He was a happy little dog.

Perhaps he was most happy because when we got to LA, Diane texted Jennifer and asked her to please turn the heat back on in the house. It was off the entire time we were gone and I think Oz got chilly. Panzee? No way. She has fur to spare so she just doesn’t get cold. Ever. She doesn’t even get very wet when it rains. I think she may have duck feathers scattered in amongst the fur somewhere.

Sleeping in this morning wasn’t an option because I Diane forced me to go with her to the VA to get my flu and shingles shots – one in each arm. It’s been 7 hours since I got the shots and now my little skinny arms really hurt. Fortunately, I had the flu shot in my left arm because it hurts the worse than the shingles shot. The reason is because the flu shot had to be in the muscle, but shingles is subdural. That simply means the flu shot needle has to be, like, 3 inches long in order to get past the layer of fat on my arm, but the shingles was only about half an inch long. There actually isn’t a lot of fat on my upper arm, and there isn’t very much muscle either, so the nurse, Beauty is her name, had to go at an angle to ensure she could get the entire needle into my arm. Then she hit the plunger and pressed it as hard as she could. I could tell because she was gritting her teeth. It kinda makes you forget about the needle pain when the medicine squirts out of that tiny little needle hole into a space that’s just not big enough for the syringe contents. That’s why she had to grit her teeth, to get the medicine to rip into my muscle fibers.

For the singles shot Beauty grabbed a chunk of that flabby area on the back of my arm, where there isn’t any muscle, pinched it up to make a good target, then jammed that little short needle into my tender skin and forced the shingles killer stuff into my arm causing the same problem as with the other shot – not enough room for the syringe contents.

Now that it’s been a few hours, you’ll be happy to know that both arms hurt about the same since the shots. The “fortunate” part about getting the one that hurts the most in my left arm is that my right arm hurts all the time any way, so now they hurt about the same. It hurts to use either of them so there’s no immediate danger of favoring the right arm over the left. Maybe in a few days I can switch back to that routine.

Tonight I must facilitate our church council meeting, as I do every month. So, there is no resting this evening until I return around 2030. I might have to go a little early, with my propane torch, so I can seal up a leaky part above the narthex. As everyone knows, there’s absolutely nothing worse than a leak in your narthex. It’s very unsettling, and makes the carpet all wet unless you can get the buckets aligned just right. Since he leak is right smack in the middle of the doorway to the basement, getting around the drips becomes a challenge for those who wish to partake of after service snacks. And coffee. It’s a Lutheran church, so coffee is an absolute necessity. I say that, then must share that our Pastor does not drink coffee. Never has as far as I know. All the other Lutheran’s in the world, however, drink coffee. Just ask one of them.

I need to rest now because my arms hurt, and I’m hungry. I believe I’ll go smash a few eggs and make a sandwich. That’s one of the things we missed while in Mexico. I know, they have eggs down there, but we didn’t want to eat theirs and we didn’t think it would be a good idea to pack eggs in the food suitcase. Diane was really thinking when packing for the trip home because she knew we didn’t have any bread in the house, so she packed the few remaining pieces of the loaf of Bimbo bread we bought in Mexico. We’re not sure if we violated any immigration laws by importing bread from Mexico, but no one said anything. Hope they’re not reading this. If they are, I know a lawyer who may, or may not, be able to help extricate me from whatever jail into which “they” decide to incarcerate me.

Perhaps I should start a fund …

To end this, I’m including a couple of pictures from the trip. The first one was taken while we were waiting for the airport shuttle to arrive. The shuttle, by the way, was a very nice tour bus instead of a crampy little van like we had the day we arrived.

This next one is two of the 4 ‘greeters’ we met each morning when heading for the stairs or elevator. The rest of their families is scattered all over the place. They really aren’t a bother, but if you stop to look at them for very long, they come right up looking for something to eat.

Mazatlan – Day 8

Posted on October 8, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

OK – I know – I said I wasn’t going to bother you again until we returned home, but I just couldn’t help myself. So, I’m back.

After eating lunch yesterday, we mosied back to our room, sat on the couch to rest a bit, and contemplate another trip to the pool, but the Denver vs. Dallas football game caught our attention because the score was 41-41 and held the promise of being fairly interesting. It was. Dallas drove for a touch down making it 48-41, then Denver turned around and did the same thing. It was 48-48. Denver kicked off, Dallas got intercepted, and Denver ran the clock down before kicking the winning field goal … 51-48. Looks like a Duck football score instead of a pro score. Now you’re up-to-date and know everything I know about that game, unless you watched the entire game in which case I’m sure you couldn’t care less about that info. Unless you’re a Dallas fan. Which I’m not.

When the game was over we hadn’t determined if we were going to the pool, or not, so just sat there a while longer … and both fell asleep. We remained in this state for an entire hour before one of us woke up and jiggled the couch.

By then it was after 5 pm and we decided to play some cribbage instead of go back to the pool. It was a bit rowdy down there, and I didn’t see Jim and Lourdes, so we were OK staying in. Cribbage was good. Diane whipped my ass. Twice. That made us 4 and 4, a good place to stop, even steven.

Then Diane broke out the 99 cent set of dominos she got at Good Will some time ago, and we discovered why it was donated after I won two rounds, lickity split, without having to draw from the pile. Diane cried ‘foul’ because during the last round she drew two double fours which would be OK if we had twice as many dominos as she brought. After a bit of investigation we determined that someone must have had a double set and just grabbed enough to fill a one-set box. So, I won two rounds, and we’ll never use those dominos again so I’m going home a winner!

During the Denver vs. Dallas game we discovered that we’re both a little punchy, like we’ve been up for a number of days. As we watched the game we played like announcers, ad-libbing what we thought the person of interest on camera, at any given moment, might be saying. It was funny and a vivid demonstration that we are ready to go home. Like, yesterday.

But, today is the day we leave.

I have to admit that I’m writing this Sunday night, so it really isn’t Day 8 yet, but I’m not sending this until tomorrow morning, so it should count.

Now I’m going to stop and finish watching the SF 49ers beat Houston. This will make Jeannie E. happy. Maybe some other folks, too.

I may add a little more to this tomorrow to let you know how well I sleep tonight. Probably not well because for supper I had a bag of imported microwave kettle corn, a Mexican Snickers candy bar, and two bags of gummy monsters. And a glass of water. Diane wasn’t pleased with my choices and I don’t blame her. I made terrible choices but it was all about eating this ‘stuff’ so we wouldn’t have to pack it and cart it back to Oregon. I mean, what’s the point?

Another factoid about this trip, and a testament to my ongoing efforts to save the environment, is that of the 8 pair of underwear I packed, I still have 4 clean ones. This means that I’ve gone four days without underwear. This will please Diane for two reasons: 1) less to wash upon arriving home, and 2) more clothes to wrap delicate things in for the trip.

Since that last period (.) a lot has happened. It’s now about 10 minutes to 6 pm and we are in LA waiting for our flight to Portland. We arrived here at 4:20, and it’s taken this long to make the incredibly long transit from out arrival gate, 69, through customs, retrieve the bag we checked in Mexico, re-check it for PDX, re-enter the secure, and go back to gate 67. All of that took 1 hour and 30 minutes. We walked down 4 or 5 amazingly long passageways during this process that took us full circle back to within 20 feet of where we started at 4:20. Now we must wait until 7:10 to board the last leg of this journey.

Prior to leaving Mazatlan, we had a bite to eat at the airport and visited with our new friends Jim and Lourdes. It’s always good to make new friends.

We’re tired and glad to almost be home.

Hope everyone is doing well.

Oh, by the way, the ‘food’ suitcase only weighed 46 lbs this time since it was only full of dirty clothes. Interesting that dirty clothes weigh almost as much as enough food to sustain two people for a week.

Mazatlan – Day 7

Posted on October 6, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

Here it is, our last day in this paradise. Tomorrow at noon the shuttle will extract us from this place and deposit us at the airport for our flight home. It’s always such a surprise how time speeds up as the end of something pleasant nears. It’s kind of like a tether ball that winds round and round the pole, faster and faster as the tether gets shorter. All the sudden, BOOM, it stops, and you bang your head against the pole because you forgot it was there.

Then it unwinds the other direction and, as the tether gets longer, we get lulled into a false sense of security. Then it speeds up, again, spinning faster and faster until you hit the other side of your head. It’s a never ending cycle of winding and unwinding, over and over … it is my understanding that sane people have really tall poles and exceptionally long tethers so the trip is more leisurely and less traumatic at the end.

With help, and the right kind of medicinal know how, we can control, to some extent, how high our pole goes, and how long the tether is. I was thinking of getting a T-shirt made with the words “How tall is your pole?”, or “How long is your tether?”, or “How long is your pole?”, or “How tall is your tether?” I haven’t talked with Diane about that, yet, but I already know that she doesn’t like that plan. So, I won’t do it. We could, however, vote on our favorites.

Most of the time I have a short tether on a short pole making life a little jittery and quite exciting. Caffeine intensifies the experience.

In truth, my vacation ended yesterday when I ran out of imported coffee creamer. This morning I concocted a concoction of lactose free milk mixed with both white and brown sugar. It’s kind of weird, but will have to do. At least it’s the right khaki color. That’s really the most important part, you know. Taste is secondary.

While at the deli yesterday afternoon, purchasing our yoghurt con frutas y cereales for this morning’s breakfast, another guest noticed my Oregon hat and asked if I wanted to know what the half time score was to the Oregon vs. Colorado game. I said sure, then he made me guess. I said 42-3, Oregon. It was really 42-12, Oregon. I thought that was a pretty good guess. The Ducks won 57-16, so their roll continues. I don’t know how the Beavers did, or even if they played. The Beavers, for those of you unfamiliar with college football in Oregon, is the Oregon State team. The Ducks belong to the University of Oregon. The guest who told me the score went to UCLA, but he considered me an ally since we’re both Pac-12 fans.

Diane’s got the makings of a cold this morning. She’s hacking and coughing, mostly because the contents of her head are draining into her lungs. That’s not a good thing to happen. What doesn’t help is when she reads a lot because she gets emotionally wrapped up in the characters, sharing their victories and defeats, crying and laughing as the plot unwinds. She shares these moments with me and makes it necessary that I put these books on my “To Read” list, even though they are Nora Roberts novels. That’s not a bad thing … I enjoy Nora once in a while because they are just fun to read. Right now I’m reading the “The Complete Sherlock Holmes” by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Robert Ryan. It’s 3768 pages long in portrait mode, and 6727 long in landscape mode. I’m 1191 pages into it in landscape mode, and 664 in portrait mode. It’s wearing me out. I just finished “The Hound of the Baskervilles”.

It’s much later, now, 1409 to be exact. We went out on the beach at 1030, and stayed there picking up shells, wandering around, and getting more than our share of sun to the point where it began to hurt. We (I) took a colander from the kitchen utensils so we (I) could sift the sand from the shells and beach glass. It worked pretty well and I’m sure management won’t mind that a little used thing like that was put to such good use.

When the heat really started getting to us, we made our way back to our assigned lounge chairs, on which we left out towels, then took a dip in the pool to cool off. It was awesome. I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned that they use a saline solution in the pools instead of caustic chemicals like bromide or chlorine. Consequently, it’s got a little salty flavor to it which I believe is intentional to cover up the fact that most people pee in the pools, even the adult pool. Maybe more to the point, “Especially” the adult pool, because it’s got a swim up bar and I’ve watched a lot of people spend an entire afternoon sitting on one of those submerged bar stools, slugging down one kind of drink or another, and never leave their seat. You’ll never convince me that there’s no way all of those folks could sit there for that long and not have to pee. Couple that with the fact that the pool water is always a bit warmer near the bar, and I believe my case is made. People pee in pools, and it’s OK because down here it doesn’t alter the chemical flavor of the water. This brings up the question about how does, like, everyone in the world, know that urine is salty? The answer, of course, is that at some point in our lives we found it necessary to taste it.

At this very point in time, we’re sitting at a table in the deli, eating our ham and swiss sandwiches, that was heated up like a panini. Here’s a picture of Diane eating here. She doesn’t know I took the picture, so I’m going to be in trouble for sure. But, that’s nothing new.

This is our big meal of the day, and only the second real meal we’ve had down here. The other one was at the restaurant in town. We actually talked about taking the shuttle back down there for another meal, but vetoed it because of the hour we’d have to spend in the shuttle. So, we opted for the deli. The other choices were two restaurants at opposing ends of the compound, one near us and the other far, far away. Too far to walk in this heat. That, plus the deli has wi-fi, a necessary piece of technology that we find to be an important aspect of our lives.

We’ve heard from sources in Western Idaho that Maryssa has signed a letter of intent to play softball on scholarship at Eastern Oregon University in La Grande, Oregon. We’re happy for her, and proud of her, whoever she is. We think it’s someone Steffani and Bob know. Maybe Jim and Donna, and probably Jeff, Heather, Jennifer, Daniel, Cedric, Lydia, Jeran, Gilligan, Baylee, Jack, and Wynette, too.

Here’s one you’ll like … on the way back from the beach, we passed one of the many waterfall fed coy pools around the property, but this one had a sign that read “Please do not feed the fish tank”. I found that amusing. Feed the fish tank. They should have other signs all over the place telling people to “Don’t feed the iguanas”. Those guys are all over the place. A small herd of them hang out on the balcony near our room which bothers Diane a bit. It’s got to be hard to be an iguana because they are some homely beasts. I demonstrated to Diane that, in spite of their appearance, they are timid and will not attack unless provoked. Thankfully, we were just outside our room and Diane had the foresight to bring bandages, so I didn’t lose too much blood. I suspect the maids will be a little miffed about the mess on the floor near the elevator, though.

Time to stop, and reflect. Tomorrow we check out and fly back home so I don’t suspect I will be adding to this until we get there. You’ll all just have to wait, on pins and needles, if you wish, to find out how this ends …

Mazatlan – Day 6

Posted on October 5, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

I should have mentioned yesterday that after Linda’s surgery on Wednesday, she recognized Tom right away. There was a danger that she wouldn’t. We’re very happy for her and know that Tom is, too. I’m sure there are some days where she would be OK not admitting Tom is hers, but recognizing him is good.

So, “what’s that all about?” you ask, and rightly so because this surgery had nothing to do with Linda’s head, but her liver. Both Tom and Linda explained how the surgery could possibly cause memory loss, and it made a bit of sense at the time. However, the complicated nature of the surgery and possible side affects were well outside the scope of my understanding so the explanation never made it into long term memory. I was able to keep it long enough to nod once in a while, indicating that I understood, when in fact I didn’t. My main concern focused on the effect on these two lovely people, not the cause. So, as did they, we put our trust into the hands of God and prayed that he would guide the surgeon’s hand. A lot of people were doing that, and it worked. So, there’s something for the heathen’s amongst us to think about.

Last night, before retiring, Diane was feely frisky so challenged me to a game of cribbage, which I won. She then challenged me again, and I won that one, too. We played a third game which she won handily, ending the need for challenges. Throughout the games we laughed like little kids in a manner we haven’t enjoyed in years. It was fun, something we don’t seem to have time for at home and it makes us wonder why. We don’t really have to go all the way to Mexico to recapture that part of ourselves. No sir. We could do that by just going to, say, Fort Stevens, or even the county park by the Scappoose airport. Or maybe we could just go out in the driveway and sit in one of the old Winnebagos and play cards there. I think the point my brain is trying to make is that we don’t have to leave home, really, to experience the fun times. It’s simply that ‘Home’ seems to have replaced the term ‘Work’ in our vocabulary, and work isn’t legally a place to have fun. So we don’t.

I’m going to change that upon our return home. I’m going to have fun every day, whether or not Diane gives me permission to do so. I’ll have fun chipping paint, removing paint from bricks that was placed there by the previous owners who weren’t too concerned about being sloppy. I’ll have fun mowing the grass … no, I do that already … I’ll have fun cutting down more blackberry vines, ripping out bushes that grow in places I don’t want them to grow, painting walls that have never been painted before, finishing Diane’s laundry room, adding fake walls to cover things we don’t want to see, refinishing the wood work around the remaining 12 windows in the house (I’ve already done 4 of them) … gotta stop this, now. My head is starting to hurt and Mexico is looking a lot better with each word …

The birds are back this morning … the gaviotas. There are also a few vultures here and there that soar over us, looking for something dead to clean up. One of the warnings given to us, which I failed to mention, is that at every public place, someone must keep guard and warn if a vulture is coming near. If so, the guard warns everyone so they can start moving around to make sure the vultures know there’s nothing there for them, and they sail away. For some folks, the vultures serve as timers, because they come around on a rigid schedule, causing people to at least turn over so they can crisp up their other tender areas in the hot sun. Kinda like turning a marshmellow at just the right speed over a bed of coals so it turns toasty brown and instead of catching on fire.

Now it’s time to venture outside and take a walk on the beach.

The walk is over and it’s 1450. The sun is hot, but seems to be more tolerable each day. We may move here.

I’m saddened by the fact that I will be unable to watch the Ducks game this afternoon because the sports channels we’ve found are all soccer related. Not actually ‘related’, but specifically soccer, the only true football according to Lydia’s soccer coach. No, to him soccer is the only ‘real’ sport. Lydia found that out when he asked her what position she played and she told him pitcher and 2nd base. Obviously not soccer.

Back to the Ducks – I’ll be doing some searching in a little while to see if I can remedy the problem. I’ve GOT to see that game! My entire vacation will be absolutely ruined if I can’t. Maybe I’ll be able to watch it live on ESPN via the internet. They won’t mind if I spend a few hours in the deli to do that, I’m sure. Might even buy something this time.

Diane’s been poisening me with lactose free leche the entire time we’ve been here. I thought there was something different about how it felt on my tongue, but didn’t question it until I had to go buy some more because we drank what we had. I’m sure I’ll survive, but I feel deceived.

It is now 1717 and we have spent the past 3 hours sitting at a table outside the deli talking with an ex-pat from Ohio who lives on the north shore of Lake Chapala which is south of Guadalhara. Though we heard her entire life story, there’s no way I could remember enough to make it worth sharing. Oh, Carolina’s son, Brian, went to nuclear power school in the Navy, spent six years on active duty, then went to Texas A&M to be a mechanical engineer, joined the Air Force, and is currently the physical ed teacher at the Air Force academy in Colorado Springs. Oh, and her Dad grew up in Western Nebraska, same as mine. Go figure. Another one of those small world ‘things’.

We ate our chili for lunch today so we’re technically out of hot food. We still have bread, peanut butter, and jelly, so we won’t starve, in case you’re concerned. I suggested that we could have toasted PB&J’s for a change, which I’ve had before and found to be quite good. I love crunchy things.

Not much else left for today. Talking with Carol all that time kinda wore me out, and changed the direction of my thought patterns, which happens to me all the time so that shouldn’t be a problem.

Here’s Diane checking her email and Facebook ‘stuff’.

Linda sent good news that she’s home and doing well. Her memory is fine so far and she can’t even forget some of the things, and people, who she would like to forget. So, there was a downside to the operation, after all. Seriously, we’re so happy she’s doing OK. Now that she’s back home Tom won’t have to cook any more.

Mazatlan – Day 5

Posted on October 4, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

The TVs provided for our use are rather small for the size of the room. They are flat panel units with little tinny speakers and they are enclosed in a unit that makes the sound echo a bit. So, for old ears, it’s a challenge. Last night, while we were watching “Elementary”, Diane asked, “Do you think the sound is bad because the picture is smaller?” I couldn’t immediately answer because that thought was running around in my head and it made sense, causing me concern. Then I committed a grave error, and laughed, because it was funny. Thankfully, she laughed, too, so it was OK. Forever more I will equate sound quality to the size of the picture.

This morning Jack woke me up by arguing with me about how to take apart some kind of apparatus we needed to take apart for some obscure reason. He had a hammer and attempted to take a swing at it to do the job, but I was able to stop him by turning the apparatus over to show him the bolt I had inserted so the halves of it wouldn’t fall apart. Then he tried to swing the hammer at the bolt. All this time he was being semi-restrained by two people I’ve never seen before, but not restrained enough to keep him from being pretty scary with the hammer. When stopped from hitting the bolt with the hammer, he got out a very sharp knife with the intent of using it to separate the halves. It was obvious that he was intent on completing the job, but I disagreed with his methods, which is unusual because it is I who normally relies on Jack to provide the necessary methods for getting pretty much anything done.

When he came up with the knife I’m afraid I yelled at him and said some pretty terrible things because it woke me up and cause Diane enough concern that she extricated herself from my vicinity to the relative safety of the living room. I as aware of her departure, though I was not completely awake, then I lay there for another 10-15 minutes in a twilight kind of sleep trying to reconcile what had just happened. Unable to do that, I finally got up and crept into the living room, sneaking up behind Diane, who knew I was there the entire time. And, she wasn’t mad at me. So, the day begins on a positive not after all. It was 0742.

Diane had a couple of the windows open to let the fresh air in because the is very little humidity this morning. I opened the other five and we are enjoying the sound of waves crashing violently on the beach. The tide is obviously high because the water is rolling all the way up to the grass berm which is about six feet above the water level. We’re located on a very wide cove and the waves start rolling in at an angle, on the southern end, where we are, and continue north, sweeping up the steep beach at a very fast pace toward the resorts north of us. I suspect we can see about 4-5 miles of beach from our windows, so it’s quite a show. Very peaceful, and serene.

This early in the morning is the time maintenance crews get busy with pool cleaning and ensuring chemical levels are correct. One of the young men who do this carries bottles of “something” in the cargo pockets of his shorts and they make a distinct clanking sound as he walks. Diane has dubbed him the ‘man with the noisy pants.’ It’s a good description. You always know when he’s around.

Yesterday afternoon Diane and I went to the deli, for their free wi-fi, so I could submit my entry to the world, and check our respective email accounts. I worked very hard to add some pictures for your viewing enjoyment, then published the entry, and it just disappeared. It appeared that I was going to have to recreate the entire narrative, a depressing prospect since I cannot recreate anything like that. It would be totally different, I know it would. Thankfully, however, I worried about it long enough for Diane’s email to refresh and there it was in her email, nice and complete. That was a relief for sure.

Then Diane headed off to the adult pool while there was still a little daylight remaining. I stayed a bit longer to check my email, and to see if the government had figured out some way of stopping my pay check. They hadn’t so I closed up and followed after a short time.

As I was going down to the infinity pool, I noticed a few birds floating on the incoming sea breeze, and my gaze was drawn higher, and higher, to an entire herd composed of hundreds of birds. No one in the vicinity knew what kind they were, but the way they soared reminded me of hawks and eagles. They obviously weren’t hawks or eagles, but they flew like them, rising on the currents, then circling around behind he pack, and working back to the front, always floating on the air a few hundred feet up, facing the setting sun. Looking at them made me think they were gathered, and circling, waiting for something to die so they could rush in a devour it. Or, perhaps they were just gathered, as were we land based humans, to watch another ho-hum Mexican Riviera Sunset.

After joining Diane in the adult pool, where she was the only occupant until my arrival, we watched the birds for a long time. They are fascinating to watch. Finally, another couple came to the pool and I asked if they knew what kind of birds they were. Turns out the ‘new’ folks are natives and very friendly. The gentleman explained that they call the birds scissor gaviotas. I’m pretty sure that’s the term he used. The scissor part refers to their tail which just out like a pair of open scissors and they can move them in a scissors fashion to control parts of their flight. Turns out they are related to seagulls in some way, but they are black. We were told there are also white gaviotas, too.

We watched a bit of news before retiring, to see if members of congress have decided to start making smart choices instead of promoting their own agendas. We saw the bit about the Connecticut lady who tried to ram the White House barrier, then sped away and was finally caught and shot, though she didn’t have a weapon. Interesting, and sad. Then there was a clip of Representative “Nuem-somethingorother” who was berating a park ranger about not letting people into one of the national parks which had been closed because THE GOVERNMENT IS SHUT DOWN, YOU DOLT! He was telling her she should be ashamed to be a park ranger for not letting people in. This guy is obviously an idiot and it concerns me that our government seems to be made up of more people like that than is healthy for us. Scary, huh?

Now it’s 0915 and time to get busy with another relaxing day. Diane wants to go to the deli to get a $7 loaf of bread so we can have toast tomorrow, Sunday, and Monday, as well as another imported tuna sandwich, and perhaps an imported PB&J, somewhere along the way. I think when we get home next week we’re going to have a hard time getting back into the habit of eating a hot meal once in a while. We feel really good just nibbling our way through the day.

Before I forget, Diane discovered another thing that makes this resort really special. How many places have you stayed in your life where they include a bra dryer? Not many, I’ll bet. Well, we have one here …

I suspect all the other rooms have them, too. Pretty cool, huh?

You’ve probably already figured out that I’m going to be in deep dark trouble for that one, but just couldn’t pass it up.

We’re currently sitting in the deli, plugged in, checking email, etc. We have our home phone through Comcast so were able to listen to all of our voice mails, too. Just can’t (won’t) respond to them until we get home. Someone else just left a message while I was sitting here. Isn’t technology wonderful?

Time to get some lunch, now. Eating a real meal yesterday kinda ruined us, making us feel like it’s actually necessary to eat larger amounts more often. So, guess we’ll go see what’s cooking at the Sunset Grill.

Mazatlan – Day 4

Posted on October 3, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

This morning I was up at 0622, the first time, then again at 0845, to stay. Early, for me. Diane, of course, was up already, at my second arising, but not long enough to have made coffee. So, I had to wait. While doing that, we had a nutritious breakfast of imported cereal. And toast.

Then we went to the concierge and got shuttle tickets for a trip into town to look around a bit, spend all our money at the main shopping plaza, and meet new friends. The shuttle stops at the Pueblo Bonito Mazatlan hotel and it’s a fair hop from there to town, so we engaged a pulminaria (sp) taxi, piloted by Sergio, for $8 to get us there. It was a cheap ride, but not as cheap as the bus. We had a guided tour, though, so it was worth it. Sergio was very engaging, and full of knowledge, being a native Mazatlanian.

Walking the streets near the local resorts makes people like us targets for the hawkers, trying to get people to go view ‘their’ resort for their 90 minutes presentation. In addition, they will give you $300 which, I have no doubt, would be in the form of a discount should you agree to buy from them. These people drive by in cars and jump out when they see a target, and begin a serious hard sell that’s hard to get away from. Persistent “No Thank You’s” fall on deaf ears. One of the more congenial ‘vendors’, who had a table set up on the sidewalk, said when we walk out of a resort like that, it’s as if we have “… dollars signs hanging all over us.”

A pulminaria, a word Sergio taught us, but I’m not sure how to spell, is a VW chassis covered with a fiberglas body that’s open all the way around. Very breezy, which was perfect. He took us the entire 4-5 miles around the crescent shaped bay on which Mazatlan resides. If one is ambitious, one could walk the entire distance on the very broad cement walkway that keeps the beach next to the ocean. Very picturesque. There are a multitude of bronze statues along the way, but my favorite is a full size bronze rendition of the taxi in which we were riding, a pulminaria. I’m sure it was just painted bronze, but the effect was nice, and unexpected. Fun art.

We contracted with Sergio for a ride back to the shuttle stop at 1330 which gave us about 1.5 hours to shop around. The market place is a very busy place not only for tourists, but also for locals. You can get pretty much anything you want there. Mainly, for the tourists, it’s all about trinkets, and clothes. Diane bought a couple of dresses, and I bought her a beaded bracelet that caught my eye. We also bought a coupl bottles of water to lake our thirst. While in the market, we encountered Lourdes and Jim, the couple we originally thought were from Forrest Hills, but are, in fact, from Roseville. Not that far away, but close. So, sadly, my the entry in which I related this information was a lie, and I apologize. That does not mean I won’t lie again, today or in the future, but it means I’m sorry for that one error.

We spent the last 15 minutes of our downtown time in the Mazatland cathedral, a very nice way to end out trip to this very friendly city. Sergio showed up exactly on time, and took us back to the ‘other’ Pueblo Bonito where we had a terrific, over-priced lunch. I was very enjoyable, in an over-priced manner. Did I mention it was a bit over-priced? But, it was really delicious and a nice break from the imported food we’ve been eating.

Now we’re back in our room for a cool-down period prior to heading out to the pool area to rehydrate.

Beyond that, our day is pretty much done, and it’s only 1700. Go figure.

Here’s a shot of our small living room/kitchen area with Diane resting & reading. There’s a huge, very heavy coffee table that goes in front of the couch but the chairs are more comfortable for propping up one’s feet.

This was taken from in front of the couch looking the other direction. Very spacious.

These are some of the pet birds that live in their very own area of the resort. There are big pink ones, and much smaller white ones. I’m guess the white ones are very young and just haven’t had the chance to eat enough shrimp to turn pink, yet.