Author Archives: Jerrie Cate

Driving in the snow

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I’m actuality pretty good at doing that, driving in the snow. To test my naturally imbued skills, I took a drive today. I had to because we used the last bit of Panzee’s pouch food this morning. She’ll want more of it in the morning. If I don’t have it she’ll just make my day totally miserable. I know. She’s done that before.

I ran out once before and had to use a pouch of Ozzie’s food as a substitute and she was absolutely incensed for being downgraded to, well, an actually pouch of food. Her’s, you see, actually comes from a can. She knows this, and is convinced the can keeps the food in a more tasty manner than an actual flimsy pouch. Ozzie doesn’t really care. If it isn’t crunchy, he’ll generally eat it, after a bit of investigating.

First stop, on the way to get dog food, and bananas, was ACE Hardware. I didn’t really need anything there. I discovered that he was working today and just and to stop by and say Hi. So, I did. I was dressed very warmly, because the temp is still low 20’s, so I didn’t stay in the store for long. We did, however, have time to share stories about the favorite wrecks we’ve seen over the years. It was entertaining, and we had a good visit.

Yes, I needed to get bananas, too. For us, and for Diane’s Mom, Jean. I forgot that part.

Getting to ACE wasn’t very difficult, even though the side roads around us do not get plowed. The Buick, however, couldn’t care less. I backed out of the driveway, scraping away all the snow above the 8″ level as though it wasn’t there. There was no hesitation then, or at any time during the entire I was gone. So, I will not dwell on the trip. It was very uneventful as everyone I encountered seemed to be on their best driving behavior. It was a very nice drive in the snow.

After ACE I went to Safeway for the bananas. I got them quickly and was back on the street within a matter of minutes even though here were a considerable number of people in there shopping.

From Safeway I drove straight across Highway 30 to Wal*Mart where the less expensive dog food lives. That’s where we normally get it. The parking lot was just a mess of packed snow but, as I said, the Buick didn’t care. There was a female employee out front doing her best to collect shopping carts from the parking lot, but they were almost impossible to maneuver through the snow. A very tough job. I spoke with her a bit and wished her well with her task.

Inside the store I navigated unobstructed to the pet supplies and only missed the correct location by one aisle. Once located, I loaded 16 cans of Panzee food, and one 12-pack of Ozzie pouch food into the cart I captured upon entry. Back at the front I discovered a cashier who was unencumbered with a customer and was more than happy to ring me up and accept my money.

As I left the store, I left the cart by the front door and carried my purchases to the Buick because I did not want to add to the shopping cart employee’s burden. It was the correct thing to do. I’m sure she would have appreciated it had she been there to see, but she must have been out retrieving carts used by less considerate customers.

 From Wal*Mart I put my sights on Grandma’s House. That would be Diane’s Mom, Jean. We all call her Grandma, although to the majority of related humans in the area she is Great Grandma. That’s OK because she is already trained to respond to Grandma so we’ll stick with that.

Her driveway was a pristine sheet of unadulterated snow. No foot prints to betray her promise to not attempt, for any reason, to go to her mail box. Her driveway has a little slope to it so going down it in the snow isn’t something she should be doing. But, she will, given the chance.

Seeing no foot prints, I went to the mailbox to retrieve what was left, and it was empty. I was nearly stunned. Not quite, but almost. When I got to the front door Grams met me and explained that some wandering children were kind enough to retrieve the mail for her. I delivered her bananas, visited a bit, then headed on home.

The trip up Pittsburgh Road was going to be the final test for the Buick because it is notoriously bad, even on a good day. It proved to be no problem, as did the small hill on Hillcrest Road leading to our house.

When I opened the garage door the dogs began their greeting ritual that only ends when the interior door is opened and they are released into the wild. Generally, they run out into the driveway, then into the yard, where Panzee relieves herself in her special spot. Ozzie turns onto the sidewalk and makes three stops. One at the flowering Lenten Roses, another at some Lilly of the Valley he doesn’t like, and that I’ve been trying to kill since we’ve been her, then again at a bare spot that always seems to get his attention. The Lenten Roses, incidentally, always seem to be in bloom, year round. I don’t understand that. They should die like everything else when it gets cold, but they don’t.

After the ritual, we return to the house and settle down for the rest of the day, no matter if it’s morning or afternoon. Panzee’s greeting ritual is always a joyful event because she talks to us. It’s not a bark, or a howl, but just her voice which she wavers by rolling her jaw. It’s very entertaining and such a happy sound.

Diane’s better today. She’s been sick for a couple of months. First a bad cold, then a bad stomach ailment. Next week we’re going to Hawaii. I’m sure she’ll be perfectly OK by then. If she isn’t, we’re not going. That’s her incentive to get better. I’m sure if she isn’t, she’ll lie about it.

For lunch Diane made chicken noodle soup. It was my idea to use spaghetti noodles and it turned out to be way better than Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup. Great stuff.

For dessert I, by myself, made raspberry sorbet. I’ve never done that before. We had all the necessary parts because Diane found a recipe in one of the dozens of magazines she gets each month and bought then. I dug them out, she rediscovered the recipe, and I simply followed the directions. Did you know that making sorbet takes about six hours? I’m sure the sorbet served in restaurants are created using a really big machine, but doing it at home is an exercise in restraint. It was all I could do to not grab a straw and just slurp it all up. I knew that if I did that, however, that Diane would never forgive me, and I would have to let my doctor know so she could just go ahead and write out hat prescription for insulin.

I think that’s about it for the day. All that’s left is to watch the end of the Portland Trailblazer’s game against the Indiana Pacers. As of this moment, Portland is ahead by 6 points.

Sorry, 8 points, with 6:46 to go.

Oh, and it’s snowing again, adding to the existing 11 inches. Supposed to keep it up all night and lots of tomorrow.

Wheee!

OK. So they lost in overtime. Big deal.

One Stud to Another …

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Here’s one putting studs on his car in our driveway …

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It’s been snowing hard and steady for about 8 hours now. It’s running about an inch an hour. Since today was originally considered to be the prelude to three days of bad weather, tomorrow and Saturday should prove to be very interesting. If the power doesn’t go out, I’ll let you know how it’s going.

Sunrises and Reporters

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The sunrise this morning was just like the photo at the top of my blog entries, but without the clouds. It was absolutely pristine. I didn’t take a new picture because I just didn’t feel like looking for my camera. Besides, I have that view stored away in my long-term memory. Locked in that steel trap of a mind. Where it will remain until the end of time, or until my brain turns to dust.

I’ve been thinking about a blog called “Dumb Things Reporters Ask People,” and actually Googled it to see if it’s already been done. Then I reconsidered, thinking it wouldn’t be a good idea to glorify the stupidity many of them demonstrate. I’ve mentioned this before. I think the networks have just one question reporters are required to ask that is dictated by the situation. They try to make it sound like a therapy session by starting each question with “When the _________ happened/ began/started, how did it make you feel?” You can fill the blank with “shooting”, “snow”, “earthquake”, “avalanche”, “accident”, etc. From there, the interview typically goes south quickly.

I can ask stupid questions.

Maybe I should be a reporter.

All in favor, say “aye.”

All against, say “nay.”

Motion failed.

Thank you. I didn’t want to be a reporter anyway.

Doctor Visits, Basketball, & Quilt Shows

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It’s Wednesday, in case anyone’s interested. The past two days have been inordinately long, in my head, so I thought it was later in the week. Then I looked at a calendar. I usually don’t do that because I typically just don’t care what day it is, unless it’s a day I’m scheduled to see my doctor. Or go to the lab to visit my phlebotomist … or the guy who runs the X-ray machine.

That’s what I did on Monday and Tuesday.

Monday I had a regular checkup with my doctor to whom I shared pretty much everything Diane told me to tell her. Normally I’m not very good at that because these appointments sneak up and catch me by surprise, so I go into the office totally unprepared. I don’t know what to say. So, I go out thinking everything is OK. Then I have to make another appointment when Diane finds out that I didn’t do what I was supposed to do. This time I tricked her. I studied a list of things I was supposed to share and got nearly all of them.

First, after my visit with the doctor, she sent me to the lab where I gave up five files of blood, and got an X-ray of my shoulder. I was brave because I watched the phlebotomist slowly insert an incredibly big needle into my arm, then search for an available vein that might willingly give up the required amount of blood. I didn’t flinch. Not once. All five little tubes were filled and I was released to visit the X-ray machine.

Since this lab is located in St. Helens, there was no wait for either event. I got to the Blood Chair before I had a chance to consider the possible complications of getting someone who really, really enjoys sticking needles in people vs. someone who is a bit tentative about it. I’ll take the one who enjoys it every time over he tentative one. Yessir.

As soon as I was released from the Needle Lady I was whisked into the big room for a picture of my shoulder. The entire process took about 3 minutes for both events. Gotta love a small town.

Then I went home.

Shortly after arriving, through the magic of technology, the results of all those tests were available for my viewing, in my account, on the Legacy Website. Nifty. Turns out all that blood revealed that the only thing “iffy” was my A1C which was a bit elevated at 6.1. That means, of course, that I’m no longer allowed to snack on candy throughout the day. So, I won’t. I’ll eat cheese, instead. And bacon. Lots of bacon.

Things were going well yesterday until the handy Legacy Web Site alerted me that my doctor realized that I was overdue for my pneumonia shot. Not only overdue, I’ve never had one that I can recall. So, it was back to the clinic so Kimberly, the doctor’s assistance, could give me the shot.

A little sidebar, here, to explain that it’s always a joy to visit the clinic because I get to see Kristin. Since she’s my daughter’s, Jennifer’s, sister-in-law, Kristin is almost a daughter. Always a pleasure, Kristin. I said that because she sometimes reads this when she finds herself without something meaningful to do.

Now, that pneumonia show. Kimberly did a good job and I left to go straighten up the Lion’s newspaper collection boxes, then went home to work on the old truck for a while.

Since the truck is outside, and the weather here is very cold right now, it didn’t take long for my hands to go numb, even though I was wearing gloves. I kept working, though, and managed to get the windshield wiper motor reinstalled, connected, and tested. I’m happy to report that it works. On both speeds.

After the motor was running, I went to work to get the new turn signal switch installed but the cold proved to be a bit much so I had to quit. Well, had I put it all together correctly, the first time, I might have finished it. Instead, I did it 3-4 times because I chose to try to remember where all those parts went, and in which order.

As a challenge, while tearing everything apart, I just put all the screws and loose parts into a cardboard box so I would have to dig around for what I thought the next part should be. Finally, had to resort to looking at the book I have that shows the proper order. With pictures. I do well with pictures.

Still, the cold drove me indoors when I started dropping things into the grass around the truck. I lost a couple of them and felt it was time to stop. I figured a couple of losses wouldn’t hurt, but three could potentially make it necessary to find replacements when it came time to stick everything back together. I felt this was especially important since I wasn’t sure if the missing parts are for the steering column, or not.

About the time I got back in the house, the pneumonia shot woke up. My arm hadn’t hurt until then, or at least I didn’t notice it, but when I attempted to take off my dirty work shirt, I was made painfully aware of where Kimberly had stabbed me. My arm started swelling up, and Diane insisted that I would “work it out.”

I tried, I really did, but to get my right arm up into the air required the use of my left arm to raise it. Still, I did it, sniffling the entire time. I asked Diane if her pneumonia shot hurt that bad and she said, “yes, but you never knew, did you?”

That told me a lot. Mainly, it told me to stop whining and deal with it. So, I did, in a manner of speaking. I kept whining, but toned it down a lot so that only I could hear it, most of the time. Those shots hurt. Don’t believe anyone who tells you they don’t.

Today the arm still hurts, but not nearly as bad as yesterday afternoon. It’s useable, which is good, because I committed to go help clean the church this afternoon in preparation for the 34th Annual Bethany Quilt Show which will be this coming Friday and Saturday. It’s got to be cleaned today, however, because tomorrow pretty much anyone who has made a quilt, at some point in their life, will ring it in for display. It’s quite a process to get everything set up.

Every year they have a featured quilter. I don’t know who it is this year, but last year it was a lady named Wynette, whom most of you know. I’ve heard many entertaining stories, from Jack, about the travels involved, all over the United States, to obtain the exact right color and pattern for her beautiful quilts. Having a wife who quilts isn’t for the light-hearted, let me tell you. So far, Diane hasn’t taken up quilting. Instead, she sells Avon. That’s an OK thing because it keeps me in cream that makes me feel pretty.

Oh! I almost forgot. My blood pressure was high when I visited the doc so now I’m on the hook to provide her with a daily log of checks I make. That will be due when I visit her on Valentine’s day. I’m going to put little heart graphics all over the log, and print it out for her. Kind of appropriate, don’t you think?

Yesterday, to end the day, I went to another of Lydia’s basketball games. They lost, 45-33, but it was a really good effort on their part. Lydia knocked down the girl she was guarding, a couple of times, which was awesome. Contact basketball. What fun.

Gotta stop now and see if I can get out of my jammies and into my clothes for the church cleaning evolution. Though she’s sick, again, Diane will also go because, as the WELCA President, she feels totally responsible for the quilt show. She doesn’t take that lightly.

Superbowl XLVIII

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Before I get going, let’s talk about Roman Numerals. They’re pretty to look at, sometimes, but why complicate a simple number like 48? It’s not too difficult to figure out the number until you get to “40”, because “X’s”, “V’s”, and “I’s”‘ are pretty straight forward. Then at 40, they toss an “L” in there to confuse everyone. Forty is “XL” which means 50-10. No, it’s -10+50 because the X comes before the L. Then, when you get to 50, it’s just an L all by itself.

Using that logic, I think 1 thru 10 in Roman Numerals should be something like IXX, VIIIX, VIIX, VIX, VX, IVX, IIIX, IIX, IX, X. That way you get the X in play before you are allowed to use it all alone, just like the L.

I suspect Roman Numerals are used in conjunction with Super Bowl games as a link to gladiators times. They are kind of like warriors, after all. However, I’m pretty sure those playing pro football never considered leaving college early to join the military. Maybe it’s all about timing, or that there is no longer a draft.

The Draft should be resurrected. I mean, how is it fair that the only people getting killed in conflicts are volunteers? I thought we were an equal opportunity country. I think anyone running for any position in politics should be required to have served in the military before being allowed to run. Just a thought.

Yesterday I registered on a new website. After giving all the particulars we got to the security question questions to be used for access. One of the first ones on the list? … “What was the first name of your first boyfriend?”

I was stunned!

I’ve never been in a situation where that question was ever asked of me. I know, it’s 2014 and OK for anyone to have a boyfriend, even me, I suppose, but, I didn’t know what to do. There were lots of other questions I could have chosen, even one asking to know the first name of my first girlfriend, but I was stuck on boyfriend. There were three questions I had to answer, and that was a choice on all three. Getting passed that first question, however, was proving to be difficult.

Ultimately, after a long delay, I entered “Jack”, so I could move along. For the next question I chose girlfriend and entered “Jack”. For the third, I selected pet, and entered “Jack”. I’ve done this before, you see, to check if the program you’re working with is paying attention. Generally, in my experience, they aren’t. You can use the same word, or name, for all of the security questions and register just fine. If you do that, you won’t have to remember a lot of different things. On some web site registrations I’ve been born, and married, in the city of “Jack”. One syllable. Easy to remember. I suggest everyone use “Jack” for all your registrations from now on.

How many times do you think Peyton Manning said Omaha yesterday? I’m guessing it wasn’t as many times as “omygawd”.

Joining us to watch the game were Diane’s Mom, Jean, Jennifer, Lydia, Brianna, Haley, and Jeran. Cedric joined his friends at the Columbia Theater here in town to watch the game on the big screen. The kids’ youth pastor, James, took them and stayed through the first quarter. Then he joined us at our house until half time. He’s a really nice young man and the kids love him. Thankfully, he wasn’t at the house when Diane handed me a bowl of cashews and said, just as everyone quit talking, “here are your nuts.”

She rendered me speechless, not an easy thing to do. Making it worse was that I was the only male in the room of 7 people watching the game so it was pretty evident about whose nuts she was speaking. Worse yet, three of them were barely teenagers. And everyone laughed. I think Jennie started it when she snorted. Had I done something like that I would have been told to knock it off, or that it was inappropriate, something I hear a lot, but no one said anything to Diane. Even her mother laughed.

Now, about that game … #1 offense against the #1 defense, as it should be, and the #1 defense won. A new record was set, in the process, when Seattle scored 12 seconds into the game without ever touching the ball. Well, Peyton didn’t touch it either, so I guess he can’t be blamed. It doesn’t get much better than that, for me.

I actually like Peyton, but I’ve never liked Denver. That comes from years of living in Southern California cheering for the San Diego Chargers. Denver was the enemy during those years, and it’s never really gone away. Silly, I suppose, but that’s just the way it is. For the same reason, I have a Portland Trailblazer T-shirt the has “Beat LA” on it. Any Blazer worth his, or her salt knows that means “beat the Lakers.”

Back to Peyton … though I wasn’t looking for the thrashing Seattle gave Denver, it was gratifying to see they were up to the task. I admit I was a little disappointed when Denver finally scored, then made a 2-point conversion. Was that to prove a point? Like, “See, we can do it!”

In the end, going for that two points allowed watchers to witness virtually every way a team can score in a football game … it was like a clinic …

  • a safety
  • a kick-off return
  • a punt return
  • a pass
  • a run
  • a pick-6
  • a field goal
  • a 2-point conversion

Did I miss any?

For food, Diane made a big pot of taco meat which was used exclusively for DIY nachos. It was, as it always is, very good. I love nachos. Whoever invented those should get a bonus, or something.

We also had nuts, as I mentioned.

“… somewhere in the distance, a dog barked …”

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Over the past few days I’ve had all kinds of things fly through my head that seemed like fun things to write about, but when I sit down, it just isn’t there. I’ve tried making notes as these ‘things’ occur, but a different problem manifests when I attempt to expand on the notes – it’s just not spontaneous, you know? I enjoy writing because I never know what’s going to come out. For that reason, I’ll never be an author. I’ll just be known as “that guy who writes funny stuff, sometimes.”

That’s OK. Diane would like it if I could actually convert some of these words into an income based on royalties, but she’s not stressing over it. I have to admit, that would be nice. But, I’m not disciplined enough to develop stories based on a plan, or an outline. That’s like work.

I gathered that bit of information from a book Diane gave me, “How I Write – Secrets of a Bestselling Author” by Janet Evanovich with Ina Yalof. Though it’s not numbered, page XI revealed to me that I’m just not going to make the grade as an author because one of her bullet points is “Make writing a responsibility. Think of it like a job and show up on time.”

Since I’ve already retired, twice, I don’t need another job, so I write just for the fun of it. If people enjoy reading it, great. If not, that’s OK, too. It doesn’t affect how I will scribble in the future because I write mainly for me, not the reader, which is another one of the bullets on that page – “… Write for the reader.” Another failure on my part, I fear.

Now, to temper that a bit, Janet has an entire cast of characters which I dearly love to read about. The dialogue is fun and her stories are, too. Since I don’t have characters,  I guess I’m a narrator, with a more schizophrenic method of sharing data in that one thought leads to another until, viola!, the page is full, it’s 2200, and time for bed.

Then I quit.

Actually it’s 2212 right now so I’m late. Diane has already gone to bed.

I do have some stories, though, with characters who have speaking parts that I may paste on one of these posts one day. Stupid stuff. I’ll do that one day when my mind is blank.

Or, maybe I’ll just make up a fairy tale.

That would be fun.

Cheers.

Wiper Motor, Computers, and Lydia

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This morning, while waiting for the Comcast tech to arrive, I dismantled and cleaned the old original windshield wiper motor from the old truck. Then I rigged up some wires and used my little portable battery booster to attach wires to see if it would work.

First, however, I searched the internet for a wiring diagram of the motor to see where the hot wire should go. I found one on a Chevy forum site where someone posted the one he had for his old Corvair. He did it in response to another reader who was looking for one for his Chevelle. I think it’s safe to say that Chevy has been using this wiper motor for a while, for a lot of different models.

So, having the diagram, I was able to verify that the motor actually worked on slow and fast speed. I was a pretty happy camper. Now all I need are the other parts I bought from LMCTruck.com so I can install it and ensure it’s water tight. I believe the washer is going to work. By fixing it myself I saved $100 and learned how to do something new. It won’t be useful for anything else, but I figured it out. Amazing, huh? Old dogs can learn new tricks after all.

When the Comcast guy arrived I showed him what’s going on and he quickly surmised that we needed to change the name of the ancillary receiver that was named “Girl Room”. After doing that he marched off thinking the problem was solved. Indeed, after changing the name, the erroneous, un-viewable recordings were gone.

But, they came back. Well, one of them did. I have a theory about why which will take some testing to prove it. Then it won’t be a theory any more. I may never mention this again so you may never know.

After that I went back to the church office to see what I could do about cleaning up the hard drive a bit. It’s super slow, and just has issues. I downloaded Malwarebytes and ran it to remove 53 adware “things”, and it helped a bit. Then I went into the Control Panel and deleted a bunch of programs that haven’t been used since 2003. Yes, the computer is that old. Perhaps it’s time to make a change. But, it works and the church is broke so we deal with it. It does the job.

I spent a few hours fiddling with it, got it running a little better, then turned it off and left. When I got home Diane had already eaten her half of the leftover lasagna from yesterday’s pot luck so I nuked what was left for my dinner.

Now I have a confession to make. I’ve been sitting on the couch next to my lovely wife watching The Bachelor. I’ve been real good the entire time and haven’t been in trouble one time. I did, however, have to refrain from asking questions about some the questions the girls were asking, or the comments they made. The one that caused me the most distress was the “Science Educator” whose childhood dream was to be a backup dancer for Lindsay Lohan … no, it was Britney Spears. “OK,” I think, “she dreamed of being a backup dancer.” Not a dancer, but a backup dancer. Kinda weird.

Now for Lydia. First, I need to demonstrate why it’s necessary to use the red-eye pre flash on her.

With a normal flash …

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With the pre flash …

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And here’s the dress …

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That’s about it.

Jerrie’s Print Shop & Lydia

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I was sitting here trying to remember what happened on Saturday and it just wasn’t coming in. So, I asked Diane, my never-ending source of important information or, NESOII, for those of you more comfortable with acronyms. I kinda like that one. It looks like it could be a line item from the ingredients on a box of diaper wipes, or the initials of a testing agency endorsing the free toothbrush included in box of Kotex.

On Saturday we spent almost the entire day copying and collating booklets for the annual meeting for our church. Then, after spending absolutely every minute of the day on the booklets, Diane squeezed another 3 hours out of me to create, print, and cut hundreds of quilt raffle tickets for the upcoming WELCA quilt show. I was more than happy to do the latter because it was something different for me to try, and it needed to be done. It needed to be done because the local print shop, Paulson’s, didn’t meet their self-imposed deadline for completing the job last Thursday.

When we stopped to get the finished tickets, I went into the shop. Upon entering, the printer guy said, “they aren’t done,” and the conversation quickly spiraled downward from there …

“When will they be done?”

“I don’t know. We’re just swamped here.”

“So, you don’t prioritize your print jobs, like first in first out?”

“It doesn’t really work like that.”

“So, you close at 5:30, but I have a task that will keep me out past your closing time.”

“I might not get it done by then, anyway.”

“And you’re closed tomorrow. I need the tickets, so what now?”

At this point, another gentleman in the shop said, “I own Sherlock’s store. If you aren’t back by closing time, I’ll take them to the store and you can pick them up on your way home.” Happily, that store really is on our way home. Nifty. I found it interesting that the store owner was working in the back room of the print shop until Diane suggested that he probably owned the print shop, too.

Then we went to the church to wear out the office copier before surrendering and returning home to finish the job there. On the way I went into Sherlock’s and rescued the newly printed tickets from the counter top, and went merrily on my way.

Once home, Diane looked at the stacks of pink tickets, that were supposed to be red, and let out a disturbing yelp telling me there was something else wrong besides the color. Indeed there was. The information on the tickets indicated the quilt show was going to take place on May 3-4, 2013. That’s when it happened last year. Excellent!

That’s when I got busy and made the tickets myself, on my computer. It was a long, tedious task, but I got them done and didn’t have to inhale all those chemicals like the print shop guy does. I think he’s been breathing them so long that his brain has begun to deteriorate a bit. And, mine look better. Diane said so.

Now my wife temporarily thinks I’m a hero because I made the tickets. Sadly, I didn’t make nearly enough of them, but Diane never said it that way. They were provided to the church ladies to sell, after church, and she said, “I wish I would have had more of them.” That’s code, of course, for “Make some more.”

So, after we got home I got busy printing more of them, then dismantled the 50 sheets of card stock into 400 tickets. It took a long time and it made my back sore because I had to stand at the table to do it. I guess I didn’t have to stand there, but it wouldn’t have been done had I not because I couldn’t do it sitting down.

Now it’s done. I can no longer see properly, because of eye strain. I’m doing all of this merely by touch.

To break up yesterday afternoon, Jeff appeared with Gilligan, Baylee, and two normally active dogs. He also had a third dog, a puppy that’s as big as the normally active ones, but far stronger and not saddled with the innate need to Sit, Stay. Nossir. The puppy is going where it wants to go, and whoever is attached to the leash is going with her. It was quite entertaining except I think Jeff got hurt a bit when the puppy flung him to the ground two or three times.

While Jeff played in the back yard with the dogs, we got to visit with the girls which is always fun. I always quiz them about school, asking dumb questions to which they give some enlightening answers. They see through most of the dumb ones and cock their eye brows at me to ensure I know they know I’m trying to trick them. As a parting gift, Diane gave them a bag of stickers, one of many we’ve received from the DVA (Disable Veterans of America), and I told them they could put them on each other. Diane told them to ignore that, but I know the seed was planted. Hope they don’t get into trouble for it.

Now it’s just after 0900, this fine Monday morning. I was up at 0700 to an incredibly beautiful sunrise. Sadly, my camera was with Jennifer. I left it with her to get pictures of Lydia and her date, Wayne, before they departed to the Winter Ball at school. Sadly, again, Lydia and Wayne wouldn’t let her take pictures of them. Until this moment, I did not know it was an option to refuse first date pictures. It’s mandatory. And, I learned later that Wayne’s mom got lots of pictures.

So, in protest, I’ve made it know that I’m not going to talk with Lydia for two entire days. I haven’t decided on which two days that will be, but it will happen. Just out of the blue I’ll refuse to talk with her because she allowed this moment, that can never be recaptured, to get away without documentation.

I did get some photos of her before Wayne arrived, but they wouldn’t let me stay to take a shot of the ‘couple’ because they didn’t want Wayne to get the wrong idea about sanity issues in the family. So, Diane took me home and I left the camera. Hence, no sunrise picture this morning.

Last night I called Comcast to seek advice about an issue with the new DVR that was installed. It’s trying to record shows to the DVR that was removed. We can see the list, of recorded shows, but it won’t show them to us because it reports the DVR may be unplugged. Well, ya! It was unplugged, taken to the truck, and removed from the area. So, the mystery is, why does the new one keep trying to record shows on it?

Instead of calling for assistance, I logged in to Comcast and opened a chat session, explaining in vivid detail exactly what was going on. The ‘tech’ on the other end, who called himself Cyril, couldn’t find my symptoms in his book and deemed it a very serious problem and submitted a ticket to roll a truck and have a tech come to the house to look at it. Someone is supposed to arrive between 1000-1400.

Since it’s now 0928 I suspect Diane would think it a good idea if I retreated to the East Wing to slip into some underwear and a clean pair of pants. Currently, in case you’re wondering, I’m in PJs. When wearing PJs underwear aren’t necessary.

I’ll let you know how the visit goes. I’ll even add some photos of Lydia when I get my camera back.