Dear Diane. I find it very prophetic that your birthday falls on Day 111 of this trip since elevens have been a prominent reoccurrence in your life. That makes today even more special. I love you all day, every day. That’s been true since you were 14.

Here’s someone else who loves you unconditionally.

He’s saying, “Happy Birthday, Mom, I love you, too”.

For the rest of you, we’re going to go out for either lunch, or dinner today at Mama Louisa’s Italian restaurant. I’m buying.

I’ll report on that later.

Diane has been upset with the Dish remote control since this trip began back in September. I recall there was a time on a previous trip where the remote was the source of displeasure and thought I had fixed it by changing the batteries. The problem manifests itself mainly when trying to pause a show so we can converse, then starting it again once the conversing is done. It just didn’t work all the time and it was very frustrating. I’m sure Diane considered divorce more than once with the end result being she could find someone who knew how to fix it.

So, a few days ago I decided to check the batteries and guess what! The batteries were right on the edge of dead and they were the originals that came with it. That was a long time ago. So, obviously, I didn’t change the batteries previous as I thought. This time I pulled the old batteries, tossed them in the trash and installed new ones.

It was like magic, and she made it clear that I could cancel my appointment with that lawyer as I’d be sticking around for a while yet. The remote works like brand new to the point that we can change channels, stop, start, fast forward without error every time. That’s what we’re doing now instead of watching all those records Hallmark Christmas movies that have been recorded. We just pick one at random and let it run for a bit, then spend time backing it up, FF, pause, stop, start, etc. without concern. Live is good once more. And divorce is once again off the table, and I can continue living here. I was truly dreading the pending relocation. There’s a retired Air Force guy living in a tent next to the laundry room and I was going to be his neighbor. The upside of that it would have been rent free, but I have to survive on snacks, not meals.

Thank you, Jesus, for the new batteries! I’m saved.

I don’t work on Mondays. I used to but really didn’t like getting back in work mode after the weekend. So, now I don’t work on Mondays because I don’t have to. I don’t work on Tuesday, either. Actually, I don’t work any day. I just “do stuff” that may appear to be work but, since I don’t get paid, it’s not work. Since I don’t get paid, I can just stop doing stuff any time I want but, oddly, that never seems to happen. Doing stuff is satisfying. Doing stuff right, is exhilarating. Doing stuff on a regular basis keeps me out of trouble with my first wife.

Doing stuff on my days off only works if Diane doesn’t have something planned, like me doing stuff for her. That happens a lot and that’s OK. I love doing stuff for her. Sometimes she gives me stuff to do when she’s gone doing stuff outside the house, leaving me alone, unsupervised. She’s learned to only give me stuff to do that only involves one thing because having multiple kinds of stuff to do usually ends up with some of the stuff not getting done. I used to get in trouble for that a lot in the past and it created a situation where supervision was necessary to ensure all the stuff got done. Trust me, it’s not a good thing when it takes two people to get stuff done when only one of them is doing stuff. I guess that the supervisor is also doing stuff in her efforts to keep me on track for doing stuff for her.

Having a routine of doing the same stuff at the same time on every one of my days off has resulted in far fewer scoldings for not getting stuff done and that makes my life much nicer. It’s better for Diane, too, because she’s concerned that not getting all my stuff done is a sign that dementia is lurking somewhere in my little brain. I can’t deny that I forget stuff but my excuse for that is I only remember important stuff. As for stuff being important, or not, it’s subjective because the stuff that’s important to me is probably not important to someone else. To complicate that, importance of some stuff changes in the blink of an eye and can cause a great deal of chaos.

For instance, I find it important to know where the closest bathroom is at all times but that’s not important to many others who are younger and have a more accommodating bladder than I do. That’s only one example, but I suspect you understand what I mean. As we get older stuff changes, and the important stuff evolves and moves up on the priority scale causing less important stuff to move down. Sadly, some of the stuff that moves down is probably still important to others so there’s a risk of offending them by focusing on your new important stuff. An example might be that you have an emergent need to visit a toilet, and speed is the critical element for success. If there are lots of people around, you may find it necessary to plow you way through them to reach your destination. In this instance, you might forget that it’s polite to excuse yourself each time you run into someone, but politeness has taken a back seat to the need for speed. This generally leaves many people in their wake shouting vulgar epithets at them as they race to their goal. It’s times like this that makes me wish that I could encounter some of those offended people when their older and in a similar predicament. I think I would help clear a path for them, if I’m able, because I’m totally immune to epithets of any kind. I just do stuff that needs to be done. You know?

I think that’s enough of that stuff and should move on. If you actually read to this point, I applaud you. I started reading it myself and only made it halfway through before deciding it was a waste of time.

I hope all is well with you and that you have only simple stuff ruling your lives.

Peace.

This morning when I got up the first time it was about 3 degrees outside. I’m guessing, of course, but judging by the way parts of my body shriveled up when I put my foot on the tile floor, I think I’m pretty accurate. My shrivel-sensor works pretty good. Even Max told me it’s too cold to do much by the way he refused to participate in the process of putting his harness on.

On his good days, when I pick up his harness, he’s front and center for a walk. On cold days, he remains laying down while I dress him and won’t get up until I put on my hat, or my fuzzy shirt, for the trip outside. He’s really funny that way.

We managed to make it around the park without falling prey to the cold as long as we kept moving. Moving is critical to keep your joints from freezing up. Once that happens, you’re a goner. That’s true. I Googled it.

We made it back to the bus and it didn’t take long for us to thaw out. Then, after Diane got up, around 1030, we gathered ourselves and headed over to the PIMA Air and Space Museum. We’ve already been there as you may know, if you’ve been reading all this stuff, but the entrance fee allows 2 visits because there’s way more to see than a normal person can do in one day. This is true.

We walked to the different buildings and think we actually saw the majority of displays and aircraft. There must be at least 7-800 airplanes surrounding the buildings, and probably that many on display inside the buildings. They are scattered around on the floor and hung from the ceiling all over the place. It’s an amazing place.

Now I will add some photos I took.

This is us on the way.

Here we are at the entrance.

Here’s one to make you wonder about Santa’s sleigh …

This is what a SR-71 looks like flying over you head.

This looks like fun

There’s Diane, waaaaay down there.

On our way to another building, we passed this one. I think Les told me he dismantled this one and put it back together blindfolded.

Then there’s this in a building specifically for the B-29 bombers and their missions. We were told there was soon to be a birthday party for the oldest member of one of the crews. He’s going to be 101 and he’s a local boy from Nogales.

This is one wall of the flight crews with their planes. There are three walls like this.

This is a place to visit if you’re ever in the Tucson area.