Author Archives: Jerrie Cate

The Injury Gene

Posted on by

Lydia has it.

When I mentioned Lydia’s game yesterday I failed to mention the ball that she took in the face. It was actually supposed to be a header, to a ball that was falling from about 200 feet, going 115 mph, but something in the wind caused her to misjudge, just a teeny bit and it hit her on the forehead …

… then her glasses …

… which slammed down onto her perky little nose …

… and finally the ground.

She didn’t skip a beat, and kept right on playing, after bending her specs a bit so they stayed on.

IMG_0602

She told her parents that it didn’t even hurt because it went numb right away, so she just shrugged it off and continued playing for the remainder of the game. This morning, however, it’s a little more colorful and she reported that her teeth hurt when she sneezes.

My nose hurts just looking at it. I fear she has a genetic disposition for injuring herself, and things. A couple of days ago she stumbled in their newly refinished bathroom and ripped the towel bar off the wall. So, next Saturday she’s going to learn how to repair sheet rock.

Back to the glasses … Lydia has a pair of sports goggles that would have resulted in a less dramatic injury, but she doesn’t like to wear them because they block her peripheral vision. They  also fog up on rainy days. We’re not sure if the injury is going to change her mind, or not.

This week at school is all about Home Coming, so each day the kids dress up as if they are going to one of their dances … prom, stuff like that. Cedric didn’t do it last year, but is this year because Lydia is. Jennifer said Lydia got all dressed up then went to school with no bandage on her face, the mark of true jock.

Gotta leave the skid marks out there for everyone to see.

She’s playing again today, against Scappoose. Should be fun because the more I learn about soccer rules, the less I understand it. So, I’m going to devote one of these entries to how I think soccer should be played.

Painting, Soccer, and Comcast

Posted on by

This is my 455th entry. It’s amazing because you’d think I’d’ve used up all the words I know by now, wouldn’t you? Another amazing thing is that I have over 100 friends on Facebook. I had no idea that I actually know over 100 people. I even recognize most of their names. How about that?

Today I removed all of the wood trim from the dining room and entry hall, then Diane and I painted the walls. It was such a beautiful day, seriously, that we opened windows, doors, and more windows, to air out the house.

Then we locked the dogs in the house and left to go watch a soccer game at Liberty High School. Lydia’s team lost 5-0 because of some terribly biased calls by the umpires, or referees, or whatever you call them. For instance, whenever a member of each team collided, if they both fell down, he blamed Lydia’s team-mate. If only one fell down, regardless of which team, they blamed it on Lydia’s team-mate who was closest to the mishap. Then, whenever the ball got past the St. Helens goalie, they gave the other team a point. I mean, what’s up with that? How is the St. Helens team supposed to feel good about themselves if they do that all the time. Seems like both sides should get a point, or they should just give the visiting team a couple of points to start with because they had to ride a bus to get there. Fair is fair.

The dogs were very happy when we got home. Just like always.

Some things just never change.

That’s a good thing.

Now I’m going to watch TV with my first wife because our current DVR is full of shows we have to watch before Thursday when a friendly Comcast employee will be here between 10-12 to install the X1 system. I have no idea what that is, but it involves a new kind of DVR that allows the user to record 4 shows at once while watching a 5th show. With this device we are assured of never getting anything done around the house, ever again.

I need to rest up for this.

Attacked! Again!

Posted on by

Hey!

Guess what!

Diane forced me to mow the yard again today, since it was incredibly beautiful, so I did.

I stayed out there mowing until the pain got really bad.

The good news is, I got my ‘pouty lip’.

IMG_0012

 

I guess I don’t have to tell you that I found the yellow jacket nest again. This time, however, I had my can of spray and was able to take out a bunch of them, but one little kamikaze got through and nailed me on the chin. To honor his bravery, I just brushed him off and he flew away.

My vision seems to be going away so I’m going to quit while I can still see the Send button.

Church, Lunch, and a Movie

Posted on by

Today we went to church, had a so-so lunch, and went to a movie. The dogs weren’t happy that we were gone for so long, but they forgave us anyway – maybe because it’s Sunday, but more probably because dogs forgive everyone almost immediately once you pet them and let them go outside. It’s just the way they are. Too bad people aren’t that way, too, don’t you think?

This morning Diane, Diane’s Mom, Jean, and I were forced to sit in the front row at church because Larry and Shirley sat in our seats. It was so … so … un-Lutheran of them. I mean, they usually either sit behind us, or a couple of rows back. This morning, however, they arrived before us and decided to move into our space. The nerve of them. Both Larry and Shirley were ahead of us in High School so I guess they were just exerting their superior position, although they’ve never done so in the past. Perhaps they were punishing us for being a little bit late. That could be it, too. So, we moved to the front, where Mabel, Nancy, Kim, Kevin, and Lisa usually sit, but they weren’t there today, so it was OK.

While listening to the sermon I got to thinking, something I don’t usually do in church. Usually, I just listen to the sermon, try to figure out how the ‘Message’ pertains to me, or how I can make myself a better person by making it pertain to me. Then, there’s the music. Old hymns that have historical meaning, written by people hundreds of years ago, that actually tell a story. Our pastor, Rory, is a wealth of knowledge regarding hymns, and regularly gives us background on the person who wrote a hymn he’s about to help us sing. Without failure, the story is compelling and filled with vivid evidence of spirituality, and the author’s un-questioning belief in God, even in the face of incredible adversity. True believers, all. They humble us.

After church I talked with Pastor and we both be-moaned the current lack of attendance by the most current generations at our tiny little church. He was saddened that he couldn’t generate more interest in spreading the Word of God to the countless scads of reportedly “un-churched” people, while I was more along the line that we could generate more interest and subsequently reap the benefit of increased offerings, allowing us to pay our bills without fear. Two different takes on a common problem.

Pastor’s ‘take’ was far more pastoral than mine, as one would expect. I did, however, have this thought about why we don’t see the younger crowd.

It’s about the music. We have the old classic hymns, we don’t have a band, and we don’t have microphones hanging from the rafters, or standing at rigid intervals across the stage. No, we have a pianist (Barb), an organist (Jeannie), and a raised area where we kneel around he altar for communion, every other Sunday, with wine and bread. The other Sunday’s we have communion by intinction, where we receive wafers which we dip into the wine as we file past Pastor. It’s fairly traditional.

We’ve been to the New Age services over the years and heard the powerful messages given by very charismatic speakers accompanied by their bands, and band of singers. The music is pleasant, but has never really struck a chord with either Diane or me. Now religious groups are growing exponentially, and it’s moved into the rap realm, something I’ve just never enjoyed. Rap, that is. I can appreciate the effort, and the      subject matter of their music, but I just don’t get “reference” from it.

That could be simply because I do not understand what they’re saying almost 100% of the time. The frequencies are all wrong for me, and the tempo, and the volume. I’m more attuned to the old stuff. Things I know.

So, I know, that makes me old fashion to the Nth degree, and that’s OK. I get it. Things change and, dare I say, evolve over time. So it goes with music and lots of other stuff including the style of churches, and their services.

I apologize if any of that upset any of you. It’s a free world, after all, mostly, so you are free to syntactically retaliate to your heart’s desire.

That’s not a dare, by the way.

It’s just a fact.

So, fire at will …

About lunch – we went to Zhen’s on Columbia Blvd here in town. For the three of us, we got a #3 and a #4, which was about six times as much food as we really needed. So, we packed up a bunch of it which will be enough for two more meals each.

Then we went to the Columbia Theater to watch “Turbo”. It’s the first movie Jean’s been to in a few years, so it was special for her. More special was that it was free, and, since we had just eaten lunch, we didn’t feel compelled to eat a mess of popcorn. That’s usually what I do in the theater and I always regret it. But I always do it, until today. It was good to just sit there and not be distracted by all that crunching noise, and greasy fingers that I always tell myself to NOT wipe on my pants but somehow always do because I forget. Without the popcorn I got to see the entire movie, without interruption.

We went with Jennie, Jeran, Cedric, Lydia, and Chris, Lydia’s friend. Actually, we went because of them. The Columbia Theater has a special deal where parents can buy kid’s tickets for 8 consecutive matinée movies for $8, which is an incredible deal. Additionally, each kid can bring an adult, so all us of us old folks got in for free. Pretty nifty, huh?

Another plus, since we were some of the last people to enter the theater, is that we got to sit almost right up front, very close to the seats Debbie Reynolds sat in when she was in town filming “Halloween Town”, many years ago. Maybe that should be many, many, years ago.

As I stated early on, the dogs were really happy to see us after our six-hour absence. I’m sure they thought we had gone to Mexico again, and were surprised when we returned so soon. Since our return, we’ve not done much but sit and vegetate, watching some of the shows that were recorded while we were gone. We’ll catch up, soon, then we’re going to turn in our old DVR, that can only record two shows at a time, and get the one that records 4 shows at a time, while you watch a 5th. That’s going to be something. We both think it’s very important that consumers should be able to records about six times as many TV shows than we can possibly watch unless we stay glued to our TV all the time. Kind of like we do now, but more so.

Ya know?

Gilligan

Posted on by

When you see that name, I bet the first thing that comes to mind is “Gilligan’s Island”. Six years ago, I would have thought the same thing. Now my first thought is about Gilligan, our Granddaughter who just turned six years old on the 5th. Since we were in Mexico at the time, we deferred our celebration of her special day until this afternoon.

This is her when she turned 5, but she still looks exactly the same.

IMG_0087

 

Gilligan has always been a little drama queen and her parents have taught her many things that most kids her age don’t know … like the bones in her body. She pretty much has them nailed. She has all of her emotions down pat, too. Just name one, and she’ll gladly display it quite convincingly. Needless to say, she’s adorable, and a ton of fun.

She’s a budding model who just needs an agent …

IMG_0095

 

We were at Fred Meyer shopping and while transiting through the fruit bins, I told her to drop and give me 10 … so she did. I actually didn’t expect it, so was quite surprised.

IMG_0098

 
I was surprised too, later, that some angry mom didn’t call the cops on me for child abuse. Gilligan didn’t mind, and she could just as easily told me no, but she didn’t because she loves me. And I love her.

Family and Food

Posted on by

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 …

IMG_0010

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 by

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 by

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 by

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 by

 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.

IMG_0048

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.

IMG_0046