Monthly Archives: November 2013

Tour Hillsboro For Less Than $400

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How’s the new elbow, KC?

Are your hands getting along, yet, or is it too early to tell?

Diane took me to my dermatologist today to visit the rash on my back. I know, that’s personal but I had to share that since KC hasn’t objected (yet) to my mention of her faulty elbow. Knowing this, now, you may be happy to learn that my dermatologist burned 13 holes in my face and at least that many in my back. She uses a little spray can of liquid nitrogen to burn those holes, and they hurt, in case you don’t know. Thankfully, there isn’t any skin left on my ears so she didn’t have to burn any holes there. Ears hurt the worst.

So, now, I have 20-30 more spots on my body that will never tan. If this keeps going, it’s going to be like freckles in reverse. Sometimes I think they should just dip me in liquid nitrogen, let thaw a bit, then send me home.

I’ll include a photo of the damage as soon as KC comes up with a photo of the guy she got her new elbow from.

After visiting the doc, at 1030, we went to Tom & Linda’s to deliver some Avon stuff, and to visit with Tom for a bit. They only live a few blocks from where the appointment was. Unfortunately, for us, Tom picked that day to have some blood work down so we missed him. We did get to visit with Kyle a bit, however, so all was not lost. Turns out we missed Tom by a whisker as we left and he returned. There will be another day.

IHOP got our attention for breakfast so we stopped and had some. Our morning yogurt was long gone. We both had the Senior 2+2+2 which was very good. Then we headed for Costco.

I think we went to get paper plates, napkins, and little cups for the church. When done, however, it cost us over $300 to exit the store. The large part of that was getting ink for our printers. One of us isn’t too frugal when it comes to printing ‘stuff’. I won’t say which one because I don’t want to get into trouble. Again.

From Costco we went to the Washington County Habitat For Humanity Restore Store, or the WCHFHRS, for short. We were looking for either a window, or a piece of plexiglas to fill the hole left by the storm window that suspiciously fell out of the right side of the living room window when Diane opened it a few years ago. Those things just can hold up to a 15 foot fall to the ground. Thinking it would no longer be needed, I compounded the problem by tossing the frame, into which a new piece of glass could have easily been inserted, into the metal bin at the dump. Smooth, huh?

The reason that’s important now is because of our new chairs, the ones we bought because company was coming over. Remember those? Well, Diane likes them so much that she’s moved from the old recliner couch to one of those chairs, and it’s right next to the window with the missing part. It’s drafty and cold and now needs to be fixed. As long as she was sitting by the wall, it was perfectly OK. I envision a visit to ACE tomorrow to rectify this.

We went from WCHFHRS to one of the many Goodwill stores, Diane’s favorite place to shop, that dot the greater Portland area. The one she chose is located just up the block from a BMW dealership. I sat in the vehicle and read my John Grisham book, “The Racketeer”, for a couple of hours while she cruised the isles. About 1640 I went in the store to cruise a bit myself but discovered that we were due at our next location at 1700, not 1730 as I previously believed. Diane was heading for the check out line so it turns out I showed up just in the nick of time to cart all her treasures to the vehicle. She was pleased.

Rick and Jody were next on the agenda. We had a plan to meet them at BJ’s Brewpub and Pizzararium in Hillsboro where three of us had hamburgers, and one didn’t. This was another visit to deliver Avon products, and to just visit prior to going home.

By the time we arrived, the dogs had been without us for 10 hours. In dog hours that’s about three days. Jennifer, bless her, agreed to visit the dogs this afternoon to assure them they hadn’t been abandoned, but I failed to ask her to turn on a light for them. So, when we got home, they were in a pitch black house, except for all the pretty blue and green lights on the front of all the electronic equipment scattered around the place. So, it’s really not pitch black – its pitch black blue and green.

They were fine and didn’t even get up until I opened the door for them. Normally Ozzie is yapping away as soon as the big garage door starts up, and doesn’t quit until he’s well into the yard, relieving himself. It’s funny to watch him bark and pee at the same time. I’ve tried that and it isn’t easy.

Now we’re home and we missed choir practice tonight. It was the first one, too. As expected, I got into trouble for that because I actually knew about it. Yesterday.

KC Update

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Good news! I was wrong.

KC had her surgery this at 0730 today. The doctors took her phone away from her before surgery because a couple of them wanted something to do while they sedated her. Once awake, they gave it back so she could finish a game she’d been playing. Sadly, one of the operating room staff had finished it for her so now she’ll have to start it again. That wouldn’t have been so bad, but she was almost finished beating it.

Anyway, she came through the surgery just fine. Reports are she gets out of the hospital on Thursday. She didn’t say if it was this week, or even this month … just Thursday. Logic tells me, which it rarely does, that it’s this coming Thursday, the 7th.

I believe the only possible problem is that the selected donor was left-handed, and that’s the elbow KC had replaced. So, there’s going to be a power struggle between KC’s arms since she’s right-handed. That would be fun to watch, don’t you think? I mean, there KC is, trying to write down something when her left hand snatches the pencil from her right hand then get into a slap-fight until she stands up and yells “KNOCK IT OFF!” Then, of course, everyone looks around to see what’s happening and see KC’s hands going at each other.

Even more fun would be watching them fight over the remote controls. Don’t you think?

That’s it. KC is OK.

KC and Others

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Many of you probably don’t know, or maybe you just don’t remember, that KC, the ‘other’ California Kathie, is having surgery tomorrow in San Francisco. Apparently her doctors found a willing donor for the ‘new’ elbow she needs. We will be thinking good thought toward her all day tomorrow, instead of only once a day like normal.

The doctors were going to use titanium for the joint, but the guy on the surgical team, who hooked up the bungee cords used to replace tendons, quit in fit of anger over which color he could use, and moved to Nicaragua. He was also told he had to start wearing underwear in surgery, not just the gown, which ruffled his feathers the wrong way.

So, they paid a visit to the San Francisco VA Hospital and found a willing donor, from WW II, who figured he didn’t have much use for his remaining elbow, and gladly donated it for Kathie’s cause. We’re anxious to find out how things turn out.

Continuing the medical theme, I established contact with my new Primary Care Provider, Dr. Sen, who works for the Legacy Health System here in town. I know, I just went to the doctor a week or so ago to re-establish contact with my former PCP whose front office determined that I was no longer a patient there. Now, I am not. Perhaps the young lady I spoke with at the previous doctor’s office is a prophet and knew I was going to switch.

My appointment was this morning at 8:20 am … gotta stop here and share how redundant that statement is … I mean, “…this morning at 8:20 am” … “morning” and “am” pretty much convey the same meaning. Actually, they convey the exact same meaning. So, I’m going to quit being redundant and use “only” military time in the future. I makes more sense to me. So, let me start over …

My appointment was today at 0820 … see how much cleaner that is? … and I was impressed with the vast size of the waiting room, and that there were three (3), yes, 3 (three) really adorable ladies, sitting behind a counter that didn’t have bullet-proof glass to protect them, waiting to check me in.

On the end sat Kristin, a familiar face. Someone I’ve known since the 90’s,  before she could legally date. Here’s an old photo that I’m absolutely positive that she doesn’t know exists. Find Kristin

030301-lindadankristen-01

Incidentally, in case you’re wondering, she’s sitting on the lap of one of her first “Love’s”, her brother Daniel, who also happens to be my, and Diane’s, favorite son-in-law. So, that kinda means that Kristin, when it’s all said and done, is also part of our family. She is, after all, Aunt Kristin to our Grand Children Cedric, Lydia, and Jeran.

kids at Pacific Beach

Here they are all grown up, with their older cousin, Logan …

PICT1936

Diane is better this morning after eating toast so I’ve decided that toast has magical healing properties and I’m looking for some venture capitalists to invest with me to produce it locally and sell in on-line to all those unfortunate millions of folks who don’t have toasters. They have computers, but not toasters. How unfortunate is that? Might be a Hundredaire yet …

I suspect I better stop. Diane is up roaming around the house and I know she’s wearing herself down. Won’t be long before I’ll have to stuff her back under the heating pad and start making more toast.

Hope all is well with everyone.

Caulking and Other Stuff

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Not much happened today except for the caulking I did around the porch beams. Now all I have to do is hope for a 50+ degree day so I can paint it. Anything lower and the paint is too thick to spread.

Got a call from the VA hospital today to ask me if I was going to use the dermatology referral. I explained that I had but was thinking about making a new appointment to have my terminal back rash investigated a little more fully. The guy I was talking with told me he could set up a 3-way with my dermatologist, if I wished. After a fairly long pause, I explained to him where my head went when he suggested a three-way causing him to clarify he meant call them so I could make the appointment. I knew that, of course, but he didn’t know that I knew so he was suitably embarrassed.

Got my meds Saturday and now I’m almost normal again. Almost. I’m not dizzy like I was and I’m probably OK to go on the roof. I don’t need to, but I could if I wanted to. That, or just extend the ladder all the way to 24′ and time myself.

I’d ask Diane to time me, but she’s pretty sick right now. I cooked lunch for her and fear I gave her food poisoning. She’s pretty miserable. All I cooked were eggs … over hard for her, easy for me. We each had two of them … her with an English Muffin, me with a toasted bagel with cream cheese. For dinner, even though she wasn’t feeling well, we ate a frozen Freshetta pizza. They’re square and not too bad if you add extra pepperoni, which I did. I don’t think Diane got a lot of nourishment out of it.

As an older brother said, quite often, actually, “This too, shall pass.”

It will be better tomorrow. If not, I get to force her to go to the doctor.

 

Church, Pigs, and Heritage

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I didn’t do anything today except go to church. It surprised a lot of people. It’s good we went because Pastor’s birthday was November 1st, All Saints Day, so we got cake. We were actually late for the service because we stopped at Safeway on the way and got the cake. It had raspberry jam in the middle. Very good.

After church, we brought Diane’s Mom, Jean, home with us, just like a normal Sunday. It’s a good day to spend with family. Diane whipped up a terrific lunch of broccoli, carrots (for her), mashed potatoes, applesauce, and pieces of dead pig. We have no idea how long the pig has been dead because the pieces were frozen together so well that she had to use our portable jaws of life to pry them apart so she could fry them. They did, I will add, look a lot like pork chops. Tasted like them, too.

Diane also baked a terrific cherry crunch pie, our favorite from Marie Callender’s. It’s frozen, like the pig parts, and will last pretty much forever. We don’t have them often, but as soon as it’s baked, she buys another one just to have it ready for the next time we decide to have one. Marie also makes a pretty good lemon meringue.

I’m curious about that last word, meringue. I honestly don’t know how something spelled like that can be pronounced like mə-rang, or meˈʁɛ̃ɡ, depending on your nationality. I guess that falls in the category with why me, and most people I know, call Washington Worshington. In know, it’s a pretty minor difference, but I’ve discovered that some Worshingtonians take exception to my pronunciation of their favorite state. Funny how things like that come creeping out of the woodwork, like all the sudden naming conventions for some sports teams are totally unacceptable.

Take the Worshington Redskins, for example. Since that’s a double whammy from me, I wonder if it is, in fact, technically correct, kinda like a double negative. You know, like saying, “I ain’t no idiot!” or, more grammatically correct, “I am not no idiot!”

In my humble opinion, I think the ACLU need for everyone to be politically correct in all things is getting out of hand. The Redskins? Really? I heard one Native American on the news say that referring to her as a Redskin was the same as using the “N” word for an African-American. All my life the Redskins were a football team. I don’t believe I actually connected the name to ‘real’ Native Americans until someone complained about it.

Here’s another one that kinda frosts me … African-American. Native American, I get. They were here first, I think, and Columbus thought he’d landed in India. So, those he me when he got off the boat really aren’t Indians. If he had known where he was, he would have called them New Worldians. But African-Americans, to me, is an odd naming convention. If we are going to begin adding our nationality to what we are as Americans, I must be a European American. That’s because I only know what half my heritage is. There could possibly be some African in there somewhere that would make me, say, an Afro-Euro American. Then there’s gotta be Canadian-American, South American-American, Russian-American, Australian-American, Japanese-American, Chinese-American, and oh ya, Indian-American. Love that last one.

Actually, using the African-American naming convention, all of us have only one of seven choices for picking our nationality, based on where we were born.

  • Africans
  • Antarcticans
  • Asians
  • Australians
  • Europeans
  • North Americans
  • South Americans

If you find it necessary to qualify your continent, based on heritage, then I guess I’m a European-North American. But, most forms ask us about Nationality, not Heritage.

I’m getting used the name changes, slowly, and honestly do not have a problem with most of the hoopla surrounding it. It just seems, to me, that too much effort is being devoted to making it all a big deal. I’ve, personally, got more important things to worry about. If you’re offended, I’m sorry, and you have permission to call me absolutely anything you want. If you do that, don’t expect a reaction from me if your intent is to offend me, it’s a wasted effort. I’m a honky, whitey, haole, whatever. It’s not going to affect me or how I act. Honest. I’ll still do dumb things and might even reinforce whatever pet name with which you wish to anoint me.

Wow! I have no idea where that soap box came from?

OK – I understand why people, all of them, have a tribal need, if you will, to identify with their heritage. That’s fine. I think I’ll start putting down Oregonian-North American on forms that ask for race. One of my brothers is Nebraskan-North American, and another is Wyomingan-North American. I’m the only one in my family who married a woman of the same race as me. Diane is also an Oregonian-North American.

This is just getting stupid and I cannot find a safe way to extract myself from this topic other than to just quit. I regret going down that rabbit hole, and mean no offense to rabbits by using that term.

And, I apologize to all the pigs, cows, chickens, and turkeys of the world because at some point in my life I will consume some of you and/or your offspring. I really don’t think you care about it, but there it is.

I must quit.

Hunting Season

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The local deer found out it’s hunting season so they’ve taken up residence in our back yard. Our dogs, who bark at pretty much everything that acts like it’s going to move, went to the back yard and didn’t even know the deer were there.

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This is the doe and her fawns that grew up two lots west of us. They usually visit, but don’t hang out, so this is proof that they know hunters are out and about.

Duloxetine and Xfinity

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Life is interesting at this time – more so for Diane than me, because I just kind of float around wondering if I’m really going to fall down, of if it’s an illusion manifested to keep me on my little toes. Regardless of how I feel, we both agree that being on the roof today isn’t a good idea. Actually, being vertical isn’t a good idea.

So, I get to sit around all day and only have to make occasional trips to the bathroom, when I remember it’s necessary.

The reason for my current state is the result of running out of Cymbalta 4-5 days ago. This happened while wrangling with my civilian medical provider, who initiated my current refillable script last year before selling her medical practice to another doctor. Then, when I needed the refill, the new doctor’s staff reported that I was no longer a patient at their practice. So, I had to make an appointment to get back on their roles. To their credit, they submitted the refill the day I made the appointment, not the day it was scheduled, which was about 4 days later, but the refill has yet to arrive.

Consequently, the effects on my tiny brain are pretty profound. Here’s what I found on the internet about it …

Cymbalta withdrawal

  • Withdrawal side effects of Cymbalta include aggression, anxiety, balance problems, blurred vision, zapping sensations in the head, constipation, crying spells, depersonalization, diarrhea, dizziness, fatigue, flatulence, flu-like symptoms, hostility, mood swings, indigestion, migraines, lethargy or drowsiness, paranoia, sleep disturbances, cramps, ringing in ears, worsened depression, severe restlessness, nausea, headaches, unpleasant sensations such as tingling or burning, vomiting, irritability or nightmares.

Having shared all that, I also share that I do not take this med for depression. I take it for nerve pain and it helps. Oddly, however, since being without it for a number of days, the overriding sensation is vertigo.

Diane thinks I have all those symptoms whether or not I’m taking my meds.

I have permission to wither away this Saturday, indulging in my required NCAA football ‘fix’, and playing with my Xfinity X1 remote. Did you know that this astounding remote unit will allow you to watch whatever channel you wish while displaying all of the scores, and current statues of a game, for any sport? All you need to do it press the round, red “C” button. How convenient is that? In this house it’s mine alone because it would, literally, drive Diane over the edge.

In my current state it’s just … fun.

Ya know?

More Painting, American Legion, Trojans and Beavers

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The painting is done, I think, but there’s still paint left over so I may have to do more. We’ll see. Oh wait, there’s still the underside of the upper and lower porches. And, maybe even the underside of the covered area where we store all the yard tools. I suppose it’s got a name, as porches go, but it’s just “the porch outside the kitchen door” to me. Maybe it’s the “kitchen porch”. I don’t know, doesn’t matter. It’s also a covered place where all the neighborhood cats come to get a free snack pretty much every day.

So, I guess the painting really isn’t done, is it? That’s rhetorical so you don’t have to answer, unless you really want to. I tend to answer rhetorical questions all the time.

Although the painting really isn’t done, as I initially reported, I did get a lot of it done, some of it from the top of some perilously tall ladders, and from the roof. Diane was concerned much of the time because I had to dig holes to make the ladder level on the less than level portion that goes around to the daylight basement. Or, cement blocks and rocks to level things out on the back stairs. The only casualty I had was when the ladder attachment I have creates a wider, more stable area at the top of the ladder, fell off and made an exciting amount of noise that caused Diane to rush onto the porch to see if I was prone or vertical. It missed me, by a hair, but I felt the wind.

This house has a large expanse of eaves that caused me great concern because it’s all overhead work. But, it’s roller work, not a brush. Incidentally, in case I didn’t mention it previously, all the other painting I’ve done was with a 2.5 inch brush, and a 3 inch roller. The bulk of it was done yesterday and it absolutely killed my poor little right arm. I know, that’s whining, but it’s true. Though it hurt, I continued anyway because I’m on a deadline. I don’t know what it is, but I’m on one.

After painting all day, I was allowed to sit for about 20 minutes before I had to go to the St. Helens Moose Lodge for a monthly American Legion meeting. I figured it was probably a good idea that I went to the meeting because I’m the Sgt. At Arms.

I know what you’re thinking … why would any reputable organization vote me into a position like that, right?  Well, no one wanted to do it so I volunteered. Now you’re thinking, “why would you volunteer for anything? Have you learned nothing over all these years?”

Apparently not, but this exalted position comes with a really nifty pin for my hat, denoting my position as a club officer. Don’t forget, too, that I’m our church council president. I volunteered for that one, too. Guess I’ll never learn, will I? My only comment regarding all of this is that both jobs need to be done and someone needs to do them. So, I do them. It gives me a false sense of power. Some day, if I keep volunteering, I’m going to get one of those jobs that comes with a hammer.

Now, about having an American Legion meeting at the Moose Club? We do it because they let us. The AM used to have its own building but they got rid of it for some reason, a long time before I joined the club. Seems like, maybe, the building was condemned. I’m not positive about that, but my friend, Doug, knows the answer. He told me tonight that he wastes a lot of time reading my entries here so maybe he’ll help me out. Maybe not.

I’m currently watching a recording of the USC Trojans vs. Oregon St. Beavers in a Pac-12 battle. Although I’m from Oregon, and logic says I should cheer for the Beavers, another line of logic says it makes far more sense to me to cheer for a team named after an animal that cuts down trees with its teeth rather than for a team named after a popular condom, that comes in a stunning array of festive colors, I’m told.

I jest, of course.

In truth, however, I just don’t like USC. It’s nothing personal. It’s just that I’m from Oregon. I’m also a Duck fan. And, I used to work at the Trojan Nuclear Power Plant, the same place Homer Simpson worked, so what do I know. I understand that Homer is just pretend, but everything that happens in Homer’s fake life is Oregon-based, including his place of employment. Sadly, the Trojan plant has been dismantled, and the cooling tower was destroyed, but it lives on in Homer’s life.

I’m done here … goodnight