Hearts, Haircuts, Quilt Shows & Computers

As I sit here, on the verge of yet another adventure, I’m compelled to rid my brain of events from the past few days. The adventure, BTW, is a trip to the Big Island.

When I do this “stuff”, I try to do it in chronological order, because that’s how events should be reported. That doesn’t always work out, however, when the one reporting has a faulty memory module. Thankfully, I have a calendar into which I enter all pertinent data that I’m sure all of you are sitting on the edge of your seats, chomping at the bit, to hear about them.

The calendar works great, when I remember to enter the info. When I don’t, then it’s a crapshoot as to what you may see here.

So, I have my calendar up and here’s what I see …

Wednesday, February 12th, was Lincoln’s birthday, and the day Diane normally submits her Avon order. We don’t typically celebrate Lincoln’s birthday, and didn’t this time, either, but Diane orders Avon products every Wednesday. Without fail. She has a room full of it.

This was the day when I also got connected with my new Cardiac Event Monitor (CLEM). I know, there’s no “L” in it, but I wanted it to sound like a name, you know? So, now it’s Clem. It’s a nifty little device that I wear on my belt, like a phone but smaller, and it has three leads that snap on to those little round patches they use for EKGs and such. I put one each just under each clavicle, and the third goes under my left breast. I suppose you are surprised to learn I have a left breast since I am, I think, entirely male. However, since I heard that men can also get breast cancer, I’ve decided that’s what I need to call them. Also, the old I get, the more tempting it is to start wearing a sports bra.

With Clem properly connected, the device periodically flashes a very bright green light. Since I’m forced to wear it 24/7 for the next month, the light revealed a point of contention between my need to wear it and Diane’s need to sleep. After the first night she reported that the blinking “lasered” her eyeballs all night long. Thereafter, I ensured the device was tucked under the covers.

Associated with this device is another device that looks suspiciously like a smart phone. Indeed, it’s connected via AT&T to a monitoring facility somewhere in the world where concerned techs keep an eye on things and ensure users are doing OK. That was my understanding, anyway. To test it, I switch the wires around once in a while to see if anyone’s watching. So far I’ve not received any phone calls to ask me what’s going on so apparently I’m either using a placebo device, or no one really cares. I’ve been assured, however, that they will definitely care if I don’t return all the devices to them in 30 days. To the tune of about $2500. This tells me they are at least keeping track of who the device was issued to. The upshot of all this is that everywhere I go, I blink. It’s especially entertaining at night, walking around in our unlit front yard, when I take the dogs out.

Oh ya! My doctor wanted me to get the monitor to see if they could associate my brief dizzy spells to cardiac events, not because I’m having a heart attack. I am, however, in the zone for things like that because I’m terrible about what I eat, and don’t eat, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility.  At the last office visit, where she prescribed the monitor, she also told me she wanted a daily log of my blood pressure at our next visit. I’ll tell you about that a little later down the page.

Wednesday was also a day to visit my new physical therapist for an evaluation. As many of you may remember, Diane and I spent a lot of time on the road visiting the VA Hospital, on Pill Hill, in Portland, for PT but the final determination was that my right shoulder, though it hurts, doesn’t really have a problem. It’s muscular. I left that round of therapy thinking I was just going to have to deal with it the rest of my pitiful life, like I do the other pains I have. It doesn’t hurt unless I move it certain ways, so I just don’t move it “that” way. Simple. But, my doctor asked about it, and I had to tell her, so she referred me to a local PT shop. At least it’s not a 80 mile round trip to get it done.

The evaluation determined that my Long Biceps Tendon, and my Supraspinatuas Tendon are rubbing against the Coracoid process. I could take that to mean I may not have a Bursa in my right shoulder, but that wasn’t mentioned. Since it’s not fatal, I will proceed with the new set of exercises and see how things go. I like the new PT guy a lot because he’s got “Dr.” in front of his name and the exercise picture he gave me is of a real person, not a stick figure. That’s quality in my book. So, there’s hope.

Thursday, February 15th, was my normal day for coffee with the MELCA guys. MELCA, for the uninitiated, is Men of the Evangelical Church of America. It isn’t a real group, except for us, because Larry L felt the need to have something to do when the WELCA ladies do “stuff.” We visit at the Kozy Korner, drinking coffee, harassing the waitresses, and solving pretty much all of the world’s problems. It’s fulfilling. Sadly, no one listens to our solutions, except the table full of catholic nuns who also meet on Thursday mornings. We know they listen because they look sideways at us sometimes.

On this day I was late because I paid a visit to my barber who, you may remember, was absent all last week due to a family emergency. Indeed it was. His 84-year-old Mother passed away due to complications from bone cancer. He’s really good at explaining everything. Turns out that all old people, who do not die outright from an affliction, like a heart attack, usually succumb to pneumonia because of the way the body reacts to everything that’s going on with whatever disease they have. So, his Mom didn’t pass directly because of the bone cancer, but because of the complications it caused with her body chemistry. This is good to know, and a really good reason to keep your breathing apparatus in good working order, like, by not smoking.

When I showed up for coffee, just about the time everyone was ready to leave, they all got refills and stuck around for another round of discussion.

Friday, February 14th, of course, was Valentine’s Day. I heard some guy on the radio station I listen to say that Valentine’s Day is a celebration to point out all of those who do not have a significant other, or words to that effect. Kind of self-centered, and not at all in alignment with all those retailers selling candy to anyone who buys it with the hope of making points with pretty  much anyone. I take it this person has never tried that and, instead, chose to view it as a direct insult to the fact that he wasn’t attached somehow. I bet he has a dog, though.

Diane and I don’t celebrate days like this any more because candy tends to rot our remaining teeth. We don’t even get cards for each other. However, since this day was also the first day of the 34th Annual Bethany Quilt Show, and Diane is President of the WELCA group, she spent all day at the church while I just ran willy nilly around town.

Friday was also the two-week follow with my doctor. I printed out my BP chart from the free app I downloaded to my iPad, and presented it to her thinking it was not good. Turns out my BP goal is to keep it below 140/90, which I managed to do almost all the time. It’s always good to visit my doctor because it affords me a chance to say “Hi” to Kristin, my daughter’s, Jennifer’s, sister-in-law. I think that qualifies her as my semi-daughter-in-law. Either way, she’s family and it’s always fun to see her smiley face.

After my appointment, I stopped at Walgreens and purchased some Valentine Peeps for Diane and delivered them to her at church. She loves peeps, especially the little yellow chicken ones at Easter. I also got her two Butterfinger candy bars. The big ones.  I knew Walgreens had them because Jack got some for Wynette from there. Walgreens is right next to ACE where Jack works most of the time.

I didn’t get anything … but that’s OK. Really, it is.

While I was at church I made an effort to resolve the issue that’s keeping the office computer from connecting to the internet. There were actually two problems – one with the computer, and one with the DSL modem. I talked with the CenturyLink tech for a while and convinced him we needed a new one. It’s going to arrive Monday, but that’s Washington’s, and Shene’s birthday, so it may not show up until Tuesday. Shene will be 21. I don’t know how old Washington will be. Really old, for sure.

That brings us to …

Saturday, February 15th, the day we fly away to Hawaii. It’s almost 1230 now, and about time to get packed. Jennifer is taking us to the airport where we will spend the evening at Embassy Suites. We’ll catch the shuttle from there to the airport in the morning for our 0700, or something, flight to Kona.

I may add more later, I may not, but I will keep every abreast of our activities over the next week. If it interests you, please read. If it’s boring, share it with someone with whom you have a grudge to settle. That’ll teach ’em to mess with you.

It’s raining here, and may be raining in Hawaii, but who cares? Now I have to go finishing packing.

I’ll leave you with some photos of the quilt show and some of the folks who made it work …

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This is Nancy …

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Barb & Pat …

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My lovely Valentine, Diane …

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… and the cooks, Valerie & Mary …

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Hoover Dam, New Blance, & Nike

Today I received confirmation that alternate universes do, indeed, exist because I was transported to one of them. In the universe to which I was accustomed, my, and Jack’s, big brother, Jimmie, friended me on Facebook. I believe I mentioned him at points in the past. Remember? He’s the anal one. I know, that sounds bad, but it really isn’t. He just has to have everything, I mean EVERYTHING, neat and tidy. Even the rusty things he has are neat. Plus, he’s the only person I know, in any universe, who can watch TV like this …

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Here’s what he looks like standing on the westbound side of Highway 93 on the Pat Tillman Bridge overlooking the Hoover Dam. But, he has sun glasses on so you can’t really tell if his eyes are open or not … you’ll notice, too, that he’s wearing a Scappoose hat. Yes, it does exist.

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So, here’s Jim, who only recently discovered that computers had to be turned on to function, they don’t just come on when you enter a room, exposing himself to the world of Facebook. In a million years I never thought that would happen. Donna has been trying to get him more involved with the computer for many years so she wouldn’t have to repeat emails to him, and such. Until now, he’s resisted successfully. Apparently she finally got out the old cattle prod and convinced him sleep would be difficult if he didn’t take that giant step into the present century. For that, I’m proud of them both – Donna for her perseverance, and Jim for finally bending a little. Welcome to the electronic world. I can say that, directly to him, since I’m guessing he’ll be reading this. I am proud of him, too. Good onya, Jimmie!

Now, about sneakers. Specifically, New Balance and Nike kinds of sneakers. This part is for Susan who shared a great photo of her new NB sneakers on Facebook indicating they were the replacements for those she obtained in 2010. She’s been working them hard, getting into shape, and she absolutely wears me out with all the exercisy-type things she’s doing every day. She has the voice of an angel. I’m proud of her, but this is about sneakers and feel compelled to share a picture of my new sneakers that Diane insisted I needed.

She gave them to me for Christmas because she knows I’ll never get them on my own. They are so incredibly comfortable that she got another pair. Now I have two pair! The new ones replaced a pair of Nike Airs that I’ve had for approximately 20 years. They’ve been worn out for a long time, but they seemed to be comfortable to me. I guess that’s true because I just didn’t know any better. Here’s what they look like …

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The old brown ones have been good to me over the years but it’s time to let them go. Still, they will make good work shoes, I think. I’m going to keep them.

The new ones, as I stated, are extremely comfortable. For me that’s pertty easy because I’m not a runner. I just walk. That’s why the old ones have lasted such a long time. They haven’t run anywhere. Ever. The new ones aren’t going to run, either. Unless something scares me.

Here’s one pair of them …

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… and here’s the other pair …

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They are exactly the same, but different.

I figure it doesn’t matter what color I wear so I just make sure I have one right and one left. Lydia approves, I’m sure, because she does the same thing, with socks. In her world it’s wrong to wear matching socks.

Maybe I’m starting a new fad with shoes.

Maybe not.

Wiper Motor, Computers, and Lydia

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

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.

Justin Bieber, Golf, & Lunch

Just a quick nod to JB, then I’ll get on to something worthy of discussion …

In my humble opinion this kid is an over rated human who needs to be deported back to Canada.

Let them deal with him.

Now for important “stuff” … Golf, and pretty much anything else than JB!

That’s what I did today with Doug, Junior, and Lyle. This Lyle is our local American Legion Commander and he’s commonly called “chief” because of his American Indian heritage. “Why,” you may ask, “does he allow people to call him that? I mean, think of the demeaning nature of being called ‘Chief’! How awful is that?” Well, bottom line is he’s perfectly OK with it. He’s responded to that name most of his life and he even writes that on his golf balls. Anyone who finds one knows the owner and returns it. Except for me. I keep them.

We all golfed pretty good, too. I even parred a hole, and had a couple of respectable bogeys. Nifty. Doug chipped in for a birdie on one hole and wound up beating me by 10 strokes. That’s not a difficult feat for him. I’ve discovered that I actually get better scores since I started counting all my strokes, as I go, instead of trying to remember after I’m done with a hole. what a difference.

Here’s a ‘selfie’ I took of the crew, left to right: Lyle, Junior, Doug, and me …

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Here’s Junior teeing off on the third hole …

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After finishing our game, we went to Fultano’s, in Scappoose, where Doug & Junior’s older brother, Jerry, and my older brother, Jack, joined us for a nutritious serving of salad for everyone but me. I also had pizza. Five pieces. And 1.5 large cokes. It was very filling.

Then I went home for a very brief time, then Diane and I returned to our church, Bethany Lutheran, where our plan was to make copies of the Annual Report we will need for Sunday. Sadly, I left the file I needed to copy at home. So we returned to get it. Then, back to church to deal with a copier always thinks it needs new parts, which it doesn’t, and it stops working when it gets too hot, which it did after only 17 of the 50 copies I was looking for. So, we packed up and went back home. Again.

I took the original file, scanned it to my computer to make a PDF file, then started printing the 33 copies we still needed. So far, as of this moment, I’ve done 15 of them.    I would have had more, but while sitting here, watching TV, my printer over ran and spit three whole copies on the floor. They had to be collated, which took time because the paper covered about a 4 foot square area and didn’t really land in order.

On a lighter note, here’s Lydia in her Winter Ball uniform …

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I find it interesting that she’s going to the Scappoose High School Winter Ball with a junior. I find that deplorable because when Diane was a freshman I was a senior. Lydia should have shot a little higher. But, her date, Wayne, is reportedly a good guy and he’s 6’3″ tall, able to provide ample protection should the need arise. He’s Cedric’s friend from church youth group. She will have a great time.

Still, she’s a St. Helens High School student who is going to the Scappoose High School winter ball. Diane and I find it sad that the old St. Helens vs. Scappoose rivalry isn’t like it used to be when we went to Scappoose High.

Now, I must quit, and make more copies.

Appliances, Helplines, and Basketball

Hi – I forgot to share with you that yesterday I saved Diane a ton of money by dismantling the dryer and putting it back together again with no parts left over. It was a necessary evolution because it was making a pretty horrible noise. So, I got some screwdrivers, a putty knife, and  a hammer and went to work. Turns out you don’t need a putty knife or a hammer to dismantle a Maytag. A phillips screwdriver works just fine.

Three times during this process Diane asked, “would you like me to call Stan’s?” Stan, as everyone in town knows, deals with appliances of all kinds, fixing or selling them. I kept telling her, “No”, but I think she was concerned that I’d get it apart and not get it back together again.  After the 3rd “no”, she commented, “I know how much you like to take things apart, so I’ll quit and let you have your fun.” Which I did.

Once I got to a point where I could lift the top and rock it back to reveal the drum, the problem was obvious. You know those fins that stick out inside the dryer drum, that help flip clothes over, and cause socks and underwear to get all wadded up inside the elastic part of a fitted sheet so they just get warm, not dry? Well, on this model, those fins are held in place with long screws with a 5/16 hex head. One of those screws was sticking out about 1.5 inches allowing it to screech against the left side of the dryer wall. Since the screw also had a phillips slot in it, I cranked it back into place, then went around the drum tightening the other 7 screws.

Then I put it all back together and it ran just like new. Really. Diane was amazed and gave me a high five for being successful. She never really doubted me, though. I have a very long history of being able to dismantle pretty much anything and get it back together. Lately, however, when I remove parts I get caught up in the mystery of the troubleshooting effort and tend to not put screws and such in a common spot so I can find them later. So, in truth, her fear wasn’t totally unfounded. She even helped me by making sure all parts were in my hat.

The washer and dryer, by the way, are over 21 years old and still work great.

This morning I was working in the basement when Diane appeared holding the phone behind her telling me someone wanted to talk with me about my computer. I get calls like this once in a while from folks who seek help with ‘their’ computers, so I was intrigued to talk with this person about ‘my’ computer. The conversation went something like this …

I said, “Hello.”

With a distinct accent, which I couldn’t readily identify, he said,”Hello. I want your computer!”

“You want my computer?” I asked.

“Yes, I want your computer.”

“OK. Do you want me to bring it to you?”

“Yes. You bring it to me here.”

I said, “Where is ‘here’?”

“New York. You bring it to me in New York!”

“Are you going to send me an airplane ticket?”

“Yes. I will send you an airplane ticket to bring your computer to me in New York!”

“And you will pay for this?”

“Yes, I will pay for an airplane ticket for you to bring to me your computer in New York! I must first talk with my accounting department and obtain from you your credit number for security, you understand.”

“Yes, I understand. You want me to give you my credit card number so you can steal from me.”

“No! I do not want to steal from you. I want you to bring to me your computer in New York so I can fix it for you. Let me talk with my accounting …”

Before he finished I said, “Yes, you want to steal from me. I think, instead, you should give me your credit card number and bring to me your computer so I can fix it.”

I waited for a bit, listening for a response, but there was none. So, I said, “Hello” a few times and received no answer.

It was evident he had hung up on me which I thought was very rude. He did, after all, call me and I think we were actually moving toward common ground where we may have found a way to solve many computer problems throughout the world. Additionally, he may have been on to something in the way of providing transportation to and from distant repair facilities for that purpose.

I’m waiting for him to call back and apologize, but I don’t think he will. He didn’t even tell me his name. Perhaps I was the first person he’s ever called in his pursuit of other people’s money.

If he calls you, tell him Jerrie said “Hi,” and ask if he’s still wearing the orange underwear. We didn’t actually talk about underwear, but it’s always fun to ask unsolicited callers what color their underwear are. It takes the conversation a little bit left of their intended goal.

This evening we went to watch Lydia’s first high school basketball game. It was against the dreaded Indians of Scappoose, where both Diane I graduated. They are calling themselves the “Tribe” now because of all the hoopla about disrespect of Native Americans who might  have migrated from India when the land bridge existed between North American and Asia a long time ago.

A really long time ago.

Be that as it may, a statement that really doesn’t make much sense to me, it is no longer proper to use any reference to Native Americans, or Indians with regard to sports teams. The team who is having the toughest time is the Washington Redskins. Funny that I never considered it as a racial slur until it was painted in that light by someone who took offense. Actually, I still don’t see it as a racial slur, but what do I know?

Anyway, the St. Helens Lions JV team got tromped by the Scappoose Indians 30-15. They didn’t lose for lack of trying. It was a very physical game on both sides but the whistles favored the Indians, like normal. The Lady Lions took lots of shots, but they just wouldn’t fall. Oh, so close, but no potato chip.

Now were home, it’s about 12 degrees outside, and we’re waiting for a call from Lydia so we can get her home from school once the bus returns. Daniel and Jennifer are in a meeting that may make them unavailable for doing that. We don’t mind.