My Truck and Diane’s DVR

The new turn signal switch for my truck arrived a couple of days ago and I was really looking forward to getting it installed. Mainly that’s because it meant I wouldn’t have to use the old hand signals for turning, something no one in this area remembers which makes it hazardous to drive without the blinky kind.

Yesterday I was all poised to get it done. I got up at a reasonable time, got some tools I felt would be essential for the task, bundled up, and headed across the street to get it done. Little did I know what an exciting experience I was in for.

First, I had to get the steering wheel off. That proved to be really easy because it’s only held in place by a large nut, friction, and a 1/4 inch screw. It the screw is removed, and the nut isn’t snugged down, the steering wheel just spins on the column, making it relatively useless. I discovered this once while driving down the road. Needless to say, it was exciting.

Once the steering wheel was off I could see the old switch, but the fixture, to which the steering wheel was attached, is fluted, and pressed into place. So, I still need a steering wheel puller for that. I actually had one, too, but the bolts were all too large, and mine only had two bolt slots and the one I needed to remove had three.

Off to ACE I go to get one. They had one for $34 but I thought that was a little steep, so I went to NAPA. They had exactly what I needed for $13, or so. With the military discount it moved into the $11 range. Much better. Still, the bolts weren’t small enough to fit the fixture.

This proved to me the value of keeping every nut and bolt I’ve ever touched because I was able to find what I needed in an Avon box lid, tucked away in one of the cubby holes in my shop which, you may remember, is in total turmoil since I deconstructed half of the work bench. Still, I found what I needed, and the bolts worked just great.

After the mount was removed, I removed the three screws that held the old turn signal switch in place, and set about removing it. But, it didn’t seem to want to budge much. That’s because the wiring harness for the switch goes through a tiny little hold  of the cowling that covers the gear shift lever,  then under a nifty little cover on the bottom of the steering column, through another tiny little hold between the steering wheel column bracket, then up behind the dash gauges where it connects with the wiring harness. Seemed simple enough, so I started taking screws out of what I considered to be the parts that needed to be moved in order to allow me to pull the old one out and put the new one in.

Since I already had the screws out of the dash-board array, I decided to remove it so I could access the windshield wiper motor that doesn’t work. That took more work than I really wanted to expend, but it had to be done so I can, at some point in time, drive the truck in the dark, when it’s raining. If I have to.

Back to the turn signal switch, I had to pretty much disassemble the upper part of the steering wheel area to remove the switch and extract the wire.

Then I took out the wiper motor and took it to a newly charged battery to see if it worked.

It didn’t, so I tore it apart and discovered that the back bearing was frozen. It’s a sleeve bearing, and I may be able to free it up. We’ll see about that.

Behind the instrument cluster is an amazing array of wires that seem to be randomly connected to each other and various parts that reside in that area. For this reason, I had disconnected the battery to ensure I didn’t suffer from the surprisingly painful buzz caused by a 12V circuit.

Now, here I am, contemplating my next step. I knew I wouldn’t be able to work on it today because Comcast techs were paying me a visit this afternoon to resolve a DVR issue we’re having. Diane had an appointment with her eye doctor in Portland which lasted all afternoon, and beyond. It’s currently 1819 and she’s still not home. She stopped to visit her Mom before coming home.

So, dismantling the truck parts, then leaving them alone for an entire day, creates a very challenging situation for me because I just put all the parts I removed into a box, went a day without looking at it, and won’t be able to do anything on it tomorrow because I have to play golf, so Saturday I’ll have to remember where everything goes. That is, of course, if I can resurrect the wiper motor, which seems unlikely. If I have to buy a replacement, it will be more days I’ll have to forget how I took it all apart. Still, I’m confident I can do it.

Here’s how I left it yesterday …

DSC_8377You can see that the new turn signal switch is hanging around the steering column in the approximately position it will ultimately reside. Other than that, it’s turmoil. The instrument cluster is dangling from the wires attached to the tach, which doesn’t work, although the wires are connected properly to the distributor.

Oh, and I had to remove the cowl cover to access the bolt holding the wiper actuator arms to the motor. That, and I dropped one of my prized wrenched in there and couldn’t get it out. It had to be done.

DSC_8387Pulling the motor out, of course, left a large hole into the dash area that would be perfect for allowing water into the cab had I not thought outside the box a bit and stuffed a yellow cap from a large bottle of 7-Up. It fit perfectly.

The Comcast techs showed up right on time and spent almost 3 hours with me, troubleshooting the entire system. We got a new X1 DVR, which was known to be bad, but the other big problem was a bad amplifier in the attic. Since I had a lot of free time, waiting for Diane, I went through the guide, selecting TV shows at random, setting the DVR to record the entire series. I think I got most of the ones Diane likes, but I know I missed a lot of them because I can’t ever remember which channel is HGTV. There’s the “Property Brothers”, “Bathroom Magic”, “Hell in Hawaii”, “Flip That Abode”, and “House People Don’t Really Live In”.

Yes, I made some of those up, but not all.

Now I must stop because, although the dogs haven’t yet barked, I sense Diane will be here shortly and I don’t want to be caught red-handed.

Cheers.

Resolutions, Electricity, and Basketball

Gee! Once again I’ve failed to honor my commitment to write something every day. This bothers me, a bit, because I’m sure there are hundreds of readers out there who are upset with me for this deficiency. I can only offer a little my Sad Sack apology that means essentially nothing, because it wouldn’t be totally sincere. I’m OK with it. Besides, I have an excuse.

Winter time, whether it’s really cold or not, is a particularly bad time for me because of all the static electricity. Unless I sit at the computer constantly, the contents of my brain spontaneous shoot out the ends of my hair, the little I have left, and stick to the walls and ceiling. Consequently, I don’t have many memories to share because I’m not allowed to sit at the computer all day long. And, if I did that, it would be pretty boring, since all I could write about would be, well, sitting here. Like this. With my hair in the air after the last static discharge …Photo on 1-21-14 at 8.08 PMWhen the discharge is complete, my hair falls back in place, kinda, and my glasses turn black again. Photo on 1-21-14 at 7.32 PMI’ve tried scraping the brain residue off the walls, so I could regain all that lost knowledge, but it’s hard to distinguish brain cells from paint and plaster chips. That, and it tastes just terrible. So, I’m learning to live with the loss.

This morning I went to the dentist again because I discovered that I still had some Social Security money remaining and I heard the doc purchased a new SUV and needed my help. So, it was one of those win-win things where he got money, without the need of hassling with an insurance company, and I got another tooth fixed. It was the one I chipped. Now it’s good as new.

Diane and I went to another one of Lydia’s basketball games and it was a good one. They lost, but only by 4 points after coming back in the last 5 minutes from 15 down. It was pretty exciting to watch them get their act together. Now for a qualifier … the St. Helens JV team is probably the only one in the league that doesn’t play varsity players in the first half. As a result, they are normally playing from behind in the second half. Sometimes they don’t recover anything, but tonight they did. Tomorrow they play against Scappoose, in St. Helens, because the Hood River High School doesn’t have a JV team. That kinda confused me for a while until it clicked that the coaches must have talked and viewed it as an opportunity for the Scappoose and St. Helens JV teams to get a workout. Should be fun.

Before leaving for the game this evening, Diane showed up with the mail and gave me the turn signal switch I ordered for the old truck. Got a new lever, too. I plan to install it tomorrow, then I’m driving the truck to the dump so I can empty it. Might even clean the crap out of the cab while I’m at it.

Hope everyone had a good day.

 

 

2013 – The End

I’m not going to bore everyone by sharing all the things that transpired over the past 364.75 days for a couple of reasons. 1) You’ve already heard about most of it if the news you watch chose to share it with you, and 2) I can’t possibly remember all of it. One thing I do remember is that everyone in St. Helens, except me, is sick on this last day of the year. It is my understanding that this epidemic is not restricted to my immediate area – folks on the East Coast have reported incidents too. I can understand that because they are ending the year with some pretty exciting weather events. We, here in St. Helens, cannot blame the weather for the ailments folks are experiencing. All we’ve had is cold weather. Not terribly cold, just cold for us. Maybe just chilly according to those who live in areas where the mercury drops well below zero degrees more often than not.

Nossir! I blame this outbreak on Little Kids because they sneeze on their hands, then wipe them, and their noses, on Real People most often while sharing a hug. I believe they are taught this trick in Little Kid School, which they attend when no one is looking, in order to make everyone taller than them ill enough to even the playing field when it comes time for cookies. They know, all of them, that a sick Real Person will give them anything they want if they just leave the RP alone. They will deny this, of course, because that’s what they’re taught to do at LKS.

At this point I must clarify the difference between LKs and RPs. LKs are mostly just potential epidemics on really short legs. RPs, by contrast, have longer legs but no longer have the ability to infect anyone with anything. I suppose that’s not entirely true, but that’s not pertinent. It’s kinda right, and that’s good enough for me.

Don’t get me wrong because I think Little Kids are awesome, even when their little noses are exuding a very salty mixture of puss and mucous all over their lips, which they end up wiping on their sleeves, because their tongues aren’t long enough. I can say this with authority because its one of the more memorable things I recall from my indentured servitude as a Little Kid. When I was a Little Kid, however, things were different. Now it snot.

When I started this, at 1958, it was my intention to terminate it at 2013. Though I could lie, and tell you I did it, I won’t. I don’t lie. I fabricate. It would have been neat, however, to bid you all adieu on 12/31 2013 at 2013. Now I can’t.

As I scribble, Diane is watching all the back episodes of Downton Abbey so she’ll be all up to speed for the premier which is going to happen soon. I kinda like the show, and have watched some of the last episodes with her, but when I start remembering what’s going to happen I need to quit because it’s no longer interesting to me. I will be watching the new season because I have no idea what’s going to happen, and I love the accents. My favorite person is Daisy who works in the kitchen. I think that’s her name. She’s the one who was going to marry William, I think, but he was killed in the war, or somewhere else. Now his father is teaching her to run the farm because he wants her to have it. Something like that.

We planned to visit Keizer, Oregon to bring in the New Year with some old Winnebago friends … no … friends who have old Winnebagos. When Diane came up very congested this morning, however, we nixed that trip, not wanting to contaminate anyone else. So far, I’m doing OK, in case you’re wondering.

Part of my evening was spent in the basement ripping my work bench apart. You may remember that I complained about it in an earlier blog and suggested that I might do this. Since we are sequestered for the night, I thought it might be a good time to continue that effort, so I did. The challenge was working around the electrical connections that were mounted in the front edge of the work surface. I just cut around them, leaving the rewiring effort for another day when I have company available to call 911, should it be necessary.

Here’s what it looks like down there now …

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This half of the workbench is going to be configured so I can sit in a chair and do “stuff”. The other half will be lower to the height of my table saw. I’ll just have to do something with all that wire. During this evolution I found an entire gallon of Liquid Nails so maybe I’ll just glue those 2×4’s against the back wall and call it good.

We hope everyone has a safe transition from 2013 to 2014. I won’t say that “I hope you all had a good year,” because you either did, or you didn’t. Me “hoping” you did won’t change that.

I can, however, “hope you all have a wonderful, safe, productive 2014. May you all win the lottery.”

Now it’s 2113 so I’ll stop.

Gilligan, Baylee, and Jeran

Now that Christmas is over we look toward next week and the dawning of a New Year. 2014! Thinking back to when I wore much smaller clothes, 2014 wasn’t part of my vocabulary. Heck, neither was 1970. It was just too far out there to be a concern. It’s not a concern now, either, just more like reality making me thankful that I’ve actually made it this far in life. I got to see many of the Buck Rogers things of my youth become reality, we went to the Moon, saw photos sent from Mars … how cool is that? Old news, I know, but still pretty nifty.

The past few days have been very relaxing, giving us time to pause and reflect on things past. That doesn’t take very long for me since I can’t remember much, but it was a fun effort. Diane helps me along with hints until I guess correctly which makes me uncommonly joyful. We do this every day, so it isn’t something new for her. Deep down I know the answers, but keying on her hints makes her happy, especially when I’m right. Makes me happy, too.

Yesterday we received Gilligan and Baylee for their first overnighter with us. Gilligan has stayed before, but when she’s alone with us things are pretty boring. We understand that. So, when they both came it was a really good thing as they each had company with common interests. Here are their adorable selves, sitting at the counter playing with Polly Pockets … Gilligan is the poser on the left.

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Making it even better, Jeran skipped going to the movie with his family so he could stay and play with his cousins. He had planned to be here anyway, but initially considered the movie, then opted to spend his weekend with us. The girls were thrilled and they all had a terrific time. Jeran is great with them. Here’s Jeran as he watches “The Sound Of Music” snuggled under my blankie, without permission, but it’s OK.

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Baylee crashed and burned around 2030, then Gilligan at 2130. Jeran lasted a bit longer. It’s good they went to sleep so easily, and fairly early, but that just meant Saturday morning was an early one. Like 0600 for Diane to mediate. Jeran wisely stayed in bed until around 0930. Me? I don’t remember.

After a simple cereal breakfast the girls were sequestered in Diane’s bathtub with some Avon roll on soap. Blue for Baylee, Red for Gilligan. They each got a vintage Barbie doll to play with, too. They had a good time and didn’t splash all the water out of the tub, just like we asked them not to. After an appropriate amount of time, Grams went in and scrubbed them clean, then shampooed every hair on their heads, one at a time. It didn’t take as long as I thought it would until she told me it was one “child” at a time, not one “hair” at a time.

When everyone was out and dry, I was alerted that the tub wouldn’t drain and required my handy hands. This isn’t my first encounter with the non-draining tub, so I knew exactly what was wrong. Hair. Lots of long hair. It is my belief that whoever designed the tub plug was bald because his complicated mechanism restricts draining water even when it’s pristine clean. I would have taken a picture of it but I know Diane would have objected. It looked kinda like the fur ball Panzee barfed up last summer. Really, it did. Here’s what that looked like … don’t look if you have a week stomach because it’s pretty gnarly …

First, however, here’s the kind of drain I must deal with …

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Now, Panzee’s fur ball …  if you were quick enough, I had a photo here, but Diane was seriously upset that I published it. I must admit it probably wasn’t the best move I’ve made this year, but had to do it. Now it’s just gone.

The cereal was just a primer for the girls. For an encore, Baylee, who barely eats anything here, had a scrambled egg, another bowl of cereal, a cup of milk, and an M&M Cookie. Grams made french toast for Gilligan and I added a scrambled egg for her.  Jeran ate cereal, two scrambled eggs, and a piece of jelly toast. I had a bagel, Diane had a fried egg, and jelly toast. The animals didn’t eat but Breezie took a shot at an agile hummingbird. Thankfully, she missed.

Now I must go reconstruct Diane’s mixer (the parts arrived yesterday) and see if it works. The coffee maker at church has also been reassembled with the new parts, in case I didn’t mention that in a previous post, like you really care. The coffee maker works perfect and delivers a full pot, every time, and I only got shocked once.

Hope you all have a nice quiet Saturday which isn’t likely if you either like football or live in a house with someone who does.

Cheers.

Coffee Makers, Hot Tubs, and E. Collars

I’m here to tell you that I’m bona-fide expert on the inner workings of Bloomfield Model 9012 coffee maker. I really am, and I’m really sorry I didn’t become an expert on it far sooner. You see, for years the church ladies have been mopping up water that’s been leaking from it, and complaining about how it doesn’t brew a full pot of coffee. It just didn’t work like it was supposed to. With my newly acquired expertise I discovered that the problem was three aging silicone tubes that cost a total of $14, including shipping. Over the years the ladies have probably mopped up 3 times that cost in wasted water. So, if you happen to own a non-functioning Bloomfield Model 9012 coffee maker, I bet I can fix it. Maybe not for $14, but I can fix it. Some of the parts cost $150 but they are stainless steel and not likely to fail unless someone, you know, hits it with a nail gun, or maybe it gets dropped in the parking lot just in time for the garbage truck to run over it. Things like that. Something unusual. Something rare. I know I’m getting all cocky about this, and I’m just guessing because the parts are in transit and have yet to be installed. I know, however, deep down in my troubleshooting soul, that they will solve the problem. Here’s the coffee maker when I had it all ripped apart …

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Now, about that hot tub. I’m sure you are all wondering what’s going on with it, right? Well, it’s been driving me nuts for about a week. Really. Absolutely nuts! I don’t know if I mentioned that I got a new pump for it or not, but I did. It arrived very quickly after I ordered it online. I love shopping that way and it’s surprising how often I order the right ‘stuff’. This time, it was the perfect fit and the pumps went back in just great. I plugged everything in, energized it, and watched it go through the start-up process then actually start priming. I was more than excited, as I’m sure you can all imagine. The tub has been unusable since mid summer because of many error codes, and the one of the pumps failed in a magnificent, really noisy manner. I still kinda worked, but you needed earplugs if you had any desire to sit in the water. Then the error codes stared up. I got new temperature sensors hoping to resolve the error codes, because that’s what the internet told me to do. When I replaced them water squirted up out of the holes in the heater, which is located inconveniently directly below the circuit board that controls everything, and drenched it. Yes, I had the power disabled, and tagged out so I could be reasonably sure I wouldn’t get electrocuted. Still, I was careful, except for the water. My compressor was upstairs, in the garage, and the hose wouldn’t reach anyway, so I could use it to blow the water out of, and off, the circuit board. Working with computers, however, has caused me to ensure I always have a can of compressed air lying around somewhere, so I used that to dry things off. In my experience, you can recover from things like that if you clean it up quickly. After blowing it all out, I left the cover off and didn’t go near it for a few days. Finally, I couldn’t wait any longer and had to turn it on to see what would happen. Sadly, it worked just like before, but with more noise. That’s when I ordered the pump. I guess that brings us up to today, in a roundabout manner. As stated above, everything appeared to start-up properly, then I got the dreaded “dy” error code which the internet told me means the heater doesn’t think it has enough water in it. Then I started playing with the wires, switching them around, trying to make the new motor run at both speeds, but couldn’t. I spent a lot of time on the internet researching this, moving the plugs all over the place, but couldn’t get it to work like it used to. It would heat for a bit, then error out and stop. Frustrating. Then I did a really brave thing and swapped the pump connections on the circuit board as a last-ditch effort before emptying the tub, pulling it out into the yard, and giving my chain saw a little workout as I cut it into tiny little pieces that would fit in the recycle bin. But, wonder of wonders, it worked. I was hung up on the belief that the motor I replaced was Pump 2 when, in fact, it’s apparently Pump 1. It’s been running for a few hours now, and last time I looked the temp was up to 88. So, there’s a very distinct possibility that Diane is going to get her one and only birthday wish. All she wants is for the hot tub to work. She just loves that thing and sits out there in the freezing cold, reading books on her iPad as it floats around on the styrofoam float I made for her.

Her birthday, incidentally, is tomorrow, December 20th. I forget how old she is but it really doesn’t matter because she’ll always be 21 to me. That’s how old she was when we got married, I think.

I learned something new today when I fell up the stairs. Yeah, I know. That’s pretty lame, but it’s less damaging than falling down the stairs, believe me. What I learned was that in a fraction of a second you can hurt multiple parts of your body at exactly the same time. I was carrying something, apparently heavy, and when my right foot slipped, I simultaneously stubbed my left big toe really hard, smashed my right thumb between a step and whatever I was carrying, and slammed my left elbow into another stair. All at once, and they all hurt equally so I couldn’t figure out which one to be more concerned about. Ultimately, I just serenaded them all with the sucking ‘S’ noise you are supposed to make when you get injured. I was unable to get up and hop around, so I just sat there making that noise. I don’t know why because there was no one around to hear me. Still, it’s the right thing to do, and it helped give me something else to concentrate on while the pain subsided, as it eventually did.

Then I went on about my business, doing whatever it was I was going to do, whatever that was.

This afternoon I made a trip to ACE to get “stuff” and got to talk with Jack for a while. That’s always a plus when I got to ACE. Some times he’s not there so I have to find things all by myself. One of the things I needed was a large wood bead-type thing so I could repair a nut cracker Diane got for Jeran. It needed a new hand, which are made from large wood bead things, and it needed something to hold. So, I got dowels at ACE, too, to make that happen. Now the nut cracker is holding a staff atop which sits a brass fitting used to unite two pressure hoses, a wire nut, and a silver bell-shaped piece of metal I found. Here’s the result.

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Yes, his right hand is way bigger than his left.

On the way home from ACE I stopped at Diane’s Mom’s house to fix the lights I strung up for her. She wasn’t worried about them, but I was and, by golly, I was going to fix it. Oddly, I knew exactly how I was going to do it, too. The problem was I had six of strings of lights connected in series and the first string kept blowing those tiny little fuses in the pronged end. So, I got an adapter that would accept three plugs and hooked them up so only two were connected. Now they work. Then I helped her clean her bathroom fans. The one in the bathroom she uses was a little dusty, but the one in the guest bathroom looked brand new. I didn’t find that odd at all.

After getting all that stuff fixed, I decided to start tearing my work bench apart. I took out almost two dozen lag bolts from the boards then pried them off. Under the first couple of boards is a two foot section of a beam that was placed, I presume, to add substance to the 2×6 planks above them. There may be another couple of spots that have a beam underneath, but I haven’t checked, yet. To get the back surface board off requires me to remove the peg board. To get the peg board off required me to remove all the tools on that side. Additionally, I had to relocate the shop light that’s been hanging from a couple of peg board devices for a couple of years. I was attempting to nail it to a beam in the ceiling when it ripped itself from my manly grasp and smashed up against the wall, shattering both lights and covering the old Playboys I forgot I had with tiny pieces of glass. I could see the Playboys once I removed the top boards. Once the light fell, I just called it a day and quit. It was almost 2200 anyway.

Here’s how I left it …

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Oh, ya, almost forgot. Today was the day that Panzee’s PCP said we might be able to remove her cone of shame. The doc never called back so we just decided to do it and see how things went. Instead of being really happy about getting it off, so she could lick her butt, or scratch her neck, she immediately went to work on her knuckle and quickly had it all irritated again. So, I put the cone back on. She sat very calmly through the process as if it was something we do every day.

Also, here’s a photo of the little gloves to which I added beads. Normally I just work in solid colors, so the designs on these posed a singular problem with regard to bead colors. Still, I think they look OK … as little beaded gloves go …

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Coffee Pot, Mixers, and Sizzler

So … I managed to totally dismantle the church’s Bloomfield Integrity Model 9012 Coffee Maker, right down to the last bolt and screw. I was really proud of myself and it was especially fun when I showed Diane all the innards, where the water circulates before filtering through the coffee grounds. Really gnarly. Knowing this, would you drink coffee that was made using this machine?

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Herein lies the true value of a coffee ground filter. However, I’m guessing that from now on many of you may seriously question little chunks of stuff you find in your coffee. Don’t just assume it’s coffee grounds. Me? I’m OK with it. Doesn’t bother me at all. I figure it’s just as good as taking a calcium pill once or twice a day. What could it hurt? Especially if the coffee is laced with Italian Sweet Cream creamer.  As I tippy tap across my keyboard, all those parts are soaking in the sink in a mixture of vinegar and baking soda. The chemical reaction is churning all those particle loose and will probably, also, dispose of the liquid wrench I had to use on some of the extra tight fittings.

Then there’s Diane’s mixer. It’s a Kitchen Aid that we’ve had a long time and it’s served us well. So, it’s worth it for me to at least attempt to fix it. That, and fixing things is just something I enjoy doing. OK. Trying to fix things is something I enjoy. Actually, taking them apart to see what makes them tick is the best part. Sometimes I just take things apart, see what’s going on, then put it in a box and hide it in the basement. It’s always fun when I find it, sometimes years later, and try to put it back together. The challenge begins when I come up with missing parts that were removed to fix something else. When that happens it all goes back in the box for another day.

Anyway, here’s what the inside of a Kitchen Aid mixer looks like. I was amazed at the amount of grease covering the gears, right over the top of the mixing bowl. Tasty.

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This afternoon, as planned, Jack and Wynette stopped by so we could all carpool over to Sizzler in Longview for lunch. You may have heard me mention it before because it’s a favorite trip for lunch after church. I cannot recall ever going to Sizzler on a week day, so this was special. It was a food oriented celebration of 51 years of wedded bliss for J&W. They would have gone yesterday, but it was foggy. Like normal, we had an extremely good, laugh a minute, time. The food was just a bonus because we’ve had many extremely good times just  visiting in each other’s living rooms. Unlike Sundays, Sizzler didn’t have the monstrous fried chicken legs, just the wings. They were still good, and I ate six of them, but I missed my legs. Love those things. I had a taco, and two servings of spaghetti, too. Then, when I went to get dessert, Jack told me that Diane said to “surprise” her with a dessert, so I did. I got a soup bowl and filled it with at least a pint of ice cream, then buried it in chocolate and butterscotch topping. I had to set the bowl on a plate because it was almost running over the edge. Diane was surprised and, I suspect, won’t ask me to do that again. I wound up eating a lot of it after I went back to get her some bread pudding.

The day isn’t quite finished, yet, as Diane is going to visit her Bunco Babes at 1900 and I have a Lions Club board meeting at 1900. I’ll be home shortly after 2000, but she won’t make it until 2200, or so. That leaves me home alone for a couple of hours.

I think I’ll paint something.

The Past Three Days

Over the past three days …

  • I crocheted beads on little gloves for little girls
  • attended a cantata at Warren Community Fellowship Church during which 32 choir members from 3 area churches gave us an incredible performance
  • Diane sustained a potentially fatal mixer injury when her mixer jumped off it’s stand, in the midst of a mixing frenzy, and hit the floor causing very moist spice cake mix to leap from the bowl scattering it all over the kitchen, and causing Diane to whip around real fast to see what was going on, wrenching her back
  • I helped pick out, deliver, erect, and string lights on the Christmas Tree for church
  • I cleaned off my work bench
  • attended the annual TVCC Christmas Party at Finley’s Funeral Parlor
  • had lunch at Fultano’s Pizza joint in Scappoose after church service
  • fixed Diane’s Mom’s Christmas Lights and sustained a potentially fatal injury in the process when I tripped on a rock and slammed into the house

If you’re OK with just highlights, you can stop now because the remainder of this missive is just detail.

Crocheting – yes, I’m “that” guy. I crochet. My Aunt Bert taught me how when I was 8-years-old and I’ve done it off and on ever since. I’ve made lots of doilies, a few table clothes, afghans and scarves. Oh, I make snow people, too. Lately, the activity of choice has been crocheting pretty beads on little gloves for little girls. This is the year for home-made things for Christmas. We’ve talked about doing that for years but it never seemed to happen. Until now. I’m finding that it’s something I should have been doing for years. It’s fun.

The Cantata at Warren Community Fellowship Church was great. As mentioned above, there were 32 singers from 3 area churches. Three of them are singing with our church for our Christmas Eve service. They are Marion, Crystal, and Tiffany, three generations of their family. All have incredible voices but Tiffany, the youngest, tops them all with her vibrant, crystal clear soprano. And, she plays the flute and works at Starbucks. A unique array of talents. Tiffany’s Mom, Crystal, is our choir director for the second year in a row since Nancy retired from that job. We only have 12 voices in our choir, and wouldn’t be able to do a cantata, but we have fun just the same. That, and we sing Hosianna, a traditional Swedish tune, in Swedish. Acapella, too.

The Fatal Mixer Injury was particularly interesting. Diane was making an upside-down fresh apple cake to share at the Saturday evening TVCC Christmas Party. During the course of making this tasty treat she said she turned her back on the mixer for just a couple of seconds. That’s all it took for the mixer to skip a beat and leap to its death on the kitchen floor. Cake batter flew everywhere. Startled by the noise, Diane jerked around to investigate and wrenched her tender back. I was in the East Wing of the house and heard the crash, but not the scream, so didn’t bother investigating. I hear noises all the time so they don’t startle me much. Especially when they don’t happen right next to me. By the time I made my way to the kitchen it was all cleaned up and the mixer was on the counter. I received a synopsis of the events which ended with news of the mixer’s demise. Curious, I plugged the mixer in, turned it on, and was treated to a lot of nasty grinding noises causing me to quickly turn it off. I took it to the basement and dismantled it discovering that a critical element was busted and needed to be replaced. With the help of a quick internet search I found and ordered the necessary part. It’s on the way.

The Church Christmas Tree was donated by Rod and Sandy who own a tree farm and go to our church. A month or so ago it was determined that Saturday, the 14th would be the day a group of Bethany Men would go get the tree. At 0950 I arrived. Bill was already there. We only had to wait a short time before David appeared with the pickup needed to transport the tree. Bill and I led David to the farm then went to select the tree. Fortunately, for Bill and I, there was a beautiful tree, already cut, leaning against a post near the entrance. Our job was done so all we had to do was get it back to the church. Once there Bill and I herded the 15′ tree from the truck into the church and got it installed in the incredibly heavy tree stand, then installed the angel and all the lights we could find. Considering our job done, we left to pursue other endeavors for the remainder of the day. I went home and cleaned off my work bench.

My Workbench has been the source of much grief to me over the years so I decided enough was enough and just had to clean it. At this point in time, all 17′ 2″ of it are mostly bare, awaiting my undivided attention to dismantle and rebuild it in a more useful configuration. First, 17’2″ is just too long for a reasonable work bench. That, and it’s too tall to work at for any length of time. So, I’m going to dismantle it and nail it back together. Also, all of the surface boards are bolted down with screws so the top isn’t flat. I didn’t notice that until I removed everything. We’ve been in the house since 2007 so I’m sure you can see how I might forget what that horizontal area looked like after six years. It’s been covered with ‘stuff’ for that long. Doing this will involve the use of some very sharp, powerful tools. I’ll try to remember and take pictures and I’ll let you know how it goes if I can still type when it’s all over.

The Annual TVCC Christmas Party is always a raucous affair where we have more fun than legally allowed by old people. TVCC stands for the Tualatin Valley Cruiser Club which has been around since the PT Cruisers debuted in 2000. Diane and I are charter members of the TVCC and participated as club officers for many years. Over the years the club became more about people than PT Cruisers and many life-long friendships were forged during that time. Diane and I have attended almost every Christmas celebration that has been held in various locations throughout the greater Portland Metro area until we finally got settled in at Finleys Sunset Hills Mortuary. It’s a very large facility near the Portland Zoo and has two advantages over past venues: 1) It’s free because one of our members runs the place, and 2) The neighbors don’t complain about the noise. Steve’s the member who facilitated this arrangement and we are all very appreciative.

Fultano’s Pizza you’ve heard about before. It’s a relatively new joint in Scappoose that we’ve visited a few times in the past and we’re very happy with the service and food. Yesterday, after church, that’s where we went with Diane’s Mom, Jean. It was her turn to pay so we picked a place a little higher on the food chart above McDonald’s or Taco Bell. The wisdom of our choice was reaffirmed, once again

Mom’s Christmas Lights were a topic of discussion on the way home so while Diane and Jean hunkered down in their chairs, I went back out into the cold to play with electricity. I knew what the problem was that caused them to stop working so it was an easy fix. One of those tiny little fuses in the pronged end of the cord overloaded and blew it’s brains out. That’s why fuses are surrounded by glass – so their brains won’t splatter all over like Diane’s cake mix did. That would be awful. I knew where Jean hid the spares so replaced one of the two in the first string of lights and, viola! They all lit up, just like I knew they would. The lights are on a lace leaf maple tree so it looks like a huge umbrella when the lights work. During the process of curing the problem I went under the umbrella portion, where I can stand erect, so I could get to the fuses. After replacing the blown one, I tripped over a large rock, stumbled about 2 steps, then slammed into the house with my right shoulder. My main thought was that if the house hadn’t been there I would have fallen flat on my face and problem broke something. Thankfully, the house was there and broke my fall so that the only thing injured was my shoulder and neck. I deemed it to be a temporary injury that had potentially fatal results at the onset of the events leading up to the crash. Later, Diane said she heard the crash but thought it was a car door, or something, so stayed wrapped up in her chair not feeling an urgent need to investigate. I think that was pay back for me not investigating the mixer crash event. That’s fair. When done, I returned to the house innards, to warmth, and sat in a rocking chair to rest, recover, and visit a bit before we headed home. About that time, the lights went out again so I think I’m just going to stuff a piece of gum wrapper in the fuse slot and call it good.

Now it’s Monday morning and I revel, again, in the reality that I do not have to get up to do anything, or go anywhere, unless Diane wants me to. If you must travel to work today, I bless you all with a safe trip there and home again. I can do that. Bless people. We all can, actually. It doesn’t always work, but it’s a nice gesture and, when it does work we can say, “I did that!”

Now it’s time for my morning nap.

Panzee, The Hot Tub Project, & Other Things

I’m learning something new so I will have something to fall back on when I finally retire. Again. It’s fixing hot tubs. I figured since Don got me through an engine tune up with the old truck, I gained enough mechanical experience to fix pretty much anything. So, I removed one of the pumps from our hot tub to see if I could figure out what was making it sound so bad. It used to be just fine but late last summer it started making kind of grinding-squeeling noise, and it would not kick over on low-speed during the start-up process. It just hummed, and quit, hummed and quit, hummed and quit, etcetera.

Since the weather was hot back then, I just disconnected the power and set it aside. Now that it’s terribly cold out, Diane reminded me how much she likes the hot tub and how nice it would be if it worked like it’s supposed to. I could only agree, so pulled the pump I thought was making the noise, and tore it apart after a bit of internet research. I still find it amazing how much information is available out there about anything you want to know. Very specific information, too. I just love the internet.

I took a bunch of pictures in my shop but none when I had the pump motor in pieces so you’ll just have to get your photo fix with this one.  It’s just a bunch of license plates I removed from various vehicles we have owned over the years. What’s missing are the ones from Okinawa, and one from Rome, Italy and Florida. When we moved from Okinawa in 1970 we went to Rome and shipped a 1965 Thunderbird Landau. When we licensed it we had to turn in the Okinawa plates for AFI ones. That’s for “Allied Forces Italy”. Since we didn’t ship the car home, we didn’t get the Italian plates. Then we moved to Florida, then to Guam where we had to turn in the Florida pates. While in Italy, it became fashionable to firebomb cars with AFI plates because the bombers thought they stood for American Forces Italy. Consequently, many cars were destroyed that belonged to many other countries. This was during the Nixon era, 1970-1973.

Anyway, here’s that photo with the missing plates …

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I’ll also throw in one of the pump, even though you can’t see much of the pump except the end that has the little spinny thing on it that flings water through the pipes. That other gray piece is the spinny thing cover.

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Once I got it all apart, I couldn’t find anything wrong with the bearings, and there was nothing interfering with the spinny thing, which is really the impeller. See, I really knew what it was.

Now, here’s one for all you folks who have really neat shops. My work bench is covered with “stuff”. Lots of it. And I can find things when I need them. Diane can’t. So, she doesn’t even bother to look most of the time.

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The floor is pretty well covered, too.

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Honestly, every horizontal surface has ‘something’ on it so when I want to do anything, I have to move things. Naturally, when I move stuff, it’s to the next place I want to work so I have to move it all over again. I keep telling myself that I’m going to devote a day … OK, two days to a clean up project and remove anything I haven’t used in six years. I’ve actually done that once. Put everything I didn’t need in boxes, then set them aside, admiring my handy work. It was good to have a clear work bench, something I’ve only enjoyed when moving to a different house. Then, years down the road, I need something and guess what? Yup. It was in that box I filled with things I didn’t need. I’m really glad I didn’t give it away.

I have another motivation for cleaning up the shop. The work bench is too high and needs to be lowered. When I was younger, in my 50’s, I was taller and it wasn’t a problem. Now that I’ve begun to shrink I find it more difficult to with my arms sticking straight out in front of me. So, I’m going to lower it to counter top height.

Maybe lower.

To a level I can work at while sitting in a comfortable chair.

Then I’m going to start a new hobby.

It’s called, “Put Stuff Back From Whence It Came”.

I think I’ll get bored with that one pretty quick, like I usually do, so the best option would be to just give all my tools to Jeff and Daniel, then borrow what I need when I need it.

Now, about Panzee. We visited her PCP this afternoon and she was given the sad news that everything looked pretty good but to keep it that way she will need to wear the Cone of Shame for the rest of her life. Since she really doesn’t know a lot of English words, she took the news well. That, and because the doc gave her a treat.

Actually, she’ll only have to wear it for the remainder of the year. By then I suspect she’ll have a bald ring around her neck, and all the moulding around our doors is going to be all nicked and dinged from her running in to them. She used to be careful but she’s discovered the cone will give if you hit things hard enough so she just powers through whatever she hits.

My concern about all that neck jamming is she’s going to need months of chiropractic therapy to fix it. We’ll have to get a referral.

Diane, Helping, Lions, Church Ladies, and KC

Diane’s sick again which means I have to cook, clean, wash, and follow-up on appointments that she made. That sounds bad, I know, but fact is I LOVE to do things to help my bride. My problem is, normally, that I have to pace myself and ensure I don’t jump in and take things away from her that she likes to do. When I see her doing anything I feel it’s my duty to take over and finish it for her without waiting for an OK. I just do it. Because she’s deathly afraid of me, she’s let me do it, over and over, over the years until, in my mind, it’s the right thing to do. But, it upset her every time. Now, however, that I’m much older and frail, she’s asserted her will and has convinced me that it’s OK to wait until she asks for help before I jump in. She has no idea how hard that is for me to do, but I do it.

When she does ask me to help, or do anything, my response is always, “Absolutely.” Go ahead and ask her. I know that’s what she’ll say because I remind her about that once in a while. I never defer unless I’m on the toilet. That doesn’t count, anyway, because asking someone to help you, who is on the toilet, is just wrong in so many ways. Just sayin …

This morning my task was to pick up Diane’s Mom, Jean, and take her to the church where, every Thursday, ladies gather to work on quilts for Lutheran World Relief. My task was to meet with a technician who was supposed to be there at 0900 to check one of the refrigerators. It frosts up inside and drips.

The tech didn’t show up at 0900 so I waited until about 1000 and called the outfit who was sending him. I was told that the appointment wasn’t until 1130. So, I took Jean home, and went home for a bit, myself, to await my next appointment which was at 1100. That one was for helping relocate about a ton of old newspapers from the local distributor to one of our Lions newspaper collection facilities. Bert & Sue were there with their big van, which was good because we knew it was going to rain before we finished. A pickup truck would have been a mess.

After dumping the papers, I went back to the church to meet the tech for the 1130 meeting. First, however, I forgot and went home whereupon Diane pointed out the errors of my ways and I hustled back down the road. I arrived about 1145 and the tech wasn’t there, so I called the office again and was told, “he should be there. I’ll contact him.” Which he apparently did, because the tech, whose name I do not know, because he didn’t introduce himself, arrived shortly thereafter.

I like tagging along with folks who fix things because I always learn something new. Today it was about refrigeration. He checked out the compressor and it was OK. There were no gaps in the door seal. So, there wasn’t a legitimate reason for frost to build up inside the refrigerator like it does. Now, here’s what I learned …

When a refrigerator is on, and it’s empty, the air inside is cooled to the desired temperature based on the position of the control knob. When you open the door, all that cool air is sucked into the room. When the door is closed, the newly added warm room air causes condensation to form on the cool interior surfaces and it freezes.  Since the interior of the fridge is generally around 38 degrees, the frost will turn liquid and flow off into a drain pan at the bottom of the fridge where the spiders live. It’s where they get their water. If the fridge door is opened before all that happens, another layer of frost is added until, eventually, it gets thick enough to drip pretty much all the time.

The solution? Make sure the fridge has lots of stuff in it. This will ensure there is less air to cool down once the door is opened. Another aspect is to ensure everyone in the church who has a desire to open the fridge door only does so when looking for something that should be in there. What’s been happening is that 15-20 people do the ‘look’ thing, see it’s dripping, then turn up the control to make it cooler. Running too cold will also cause frost to form inside.

Now about KC. She got to go home today, and she sent me a photo of her arm. I’ve been reporting, all along, that it was her left arm that got the new elbow, but she sent me a picture of someone’s right arm.

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 I’m convinced it’s someone else’s. Someone else with really nice fingernails.

I’m disappointed that it’s wrapped up because I was really anxious to see where they put the zirc fittings so the new elbow can be lubbed. Maybe when then cast comes off she’ll share that.

1968 Chevy Truck, Electricity, Spaghetti, and Soccer

Today I spent a lot of hours on the old pickup truck. Here’s what it looked like before I started.

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It actually looked the same once I was done, but it’s now turned around, pointing to the right. I don’t remember when I took this picture, but the truck just never changes.

Today, my efforts were focused on just getting the starter to function correctly. Before I got into it too far, I decided to just remove the starter and take it back to NAPA for a test. You see, it functions OK for about 2 seconds, then the Bendix just quits and the starter keeps spinning. If the Bendix gives up, everyone in the entire world knows that means the little gear on the end of it isn’t going to turn the big gear on the engine. All those people also know that if the engine doesn’t rotate, it’s not going to start. As I said, however, the little gear engages the big gear for about 2 seconds before it quits, allowing the starter to spin wildly out of control, consuming massive amounts of energy, until you release the key. So, the Bendix was suspect.

The guy at NAPA, Dave, I think his name was, happily took the starter to the tester, strapped it down with a bungee cord and applied power to it. The Bendix kicked out like it’s supposed to and it remained out the entire time power was supplied, so it was deemed to be working just fine. No amount of whining on my part could convince Dave that his test was a no-load effort. So, I took the starter back to the truck and took a critical look at the wires and noticed that they probably weren’t in the best shape ever. They do, however, conduct electricity and they aren’t shorted to ground. “Shorted,” for those who may not be familiar with this term, means the wires are short enough that the electricity can’t reach the ground. That’s true.

It was a perplexing situation, for sure. I turn the key, the engine would turn for a couple of seconds, then the Bendix would disengage. Not knowing what else to do, I decided to just eliminate as many connections as I could between the starter, the battery. That meant bypassing the ignition, the little switch that makes sure it’s in Park, and the one behind the fuse box that goes through the firewall. It’s a purple wire, and purple wires don’t go through a fuse so it isn’t really connected to the fuse box so it can go directly out through the wall into the engine compartment.

Whether or not you want to know, here’s how I did all of that.

First, I went into the newest of the old RVs we have, and retrieved a push button switch that I previously had installed in it because the ignition switch quit functioning for the part that sent power to the starter. But, the button kept fall off, and getting in the way, so I removed it and now all I have to do to start it is turn the key on and hold two wires together until it fires up. Probably not the best solution, but it works quite well.

Taking the switch to the pickup, I first found a likely hole on the left side of the dash into which the switch would fit. I found the perfect place, but before securing it, I had to make sure it worked like I wanted.

It just occurred to me that I should give everyone a little refresher course on basic electricity, even though everyone in the entire world already knows this stuff, and I probably should have done it sooner. Better late than never, and doing it will help me get it straight in my head.

First Rule – there are two types of electrical current – AC and DC. Both of them require copious amounts of electrons which are the little critters that make you jiggle all over when you happen to touch a bare wire that’s connected to a power source. They literally ‘fly’ through your body and the jiggling you experience is caused by all the cells in your body dodging left and right, trying to get out of their way. Got it? It’s not a good thing to do, touching a bare wire. Exciting, yes, but still not a good thing to do.

AC is Alternating Current – that means the electricity is created by exciting a bunch of electrons with a generator that causes the current to go up and down, up and down, like a yo-yo, until all the electrons in the wires develop a bi-polar disorder and they don’t know which way they’re going. To them, it’s back and forth, back and forth in the wires, going through stoves, air conditioners, washers, dryers, refrigerators, light bulbs, and, once in a while, a warm body.  Behind pretty much every wall in your house there are wires jam-packed with excited electrons that are just waiting for the chance to go somewhere else. The preferred destination of every one of them is ALWAYS the shortest path to ground. Yes, to ground. Like the dirt you dig in when planting flowers that will die unless you water them. Or a garden you plant that the deer just love. That ground. That’s because the ultimate desire of every electron in this ‘circuit’ is to return to its source, as in the other side of the motor that excited them so much. To do this they must use the earth because the power companies chose this manner in order to save money on wire. By stuffing a huge wire into the ground and connecting it to one side of their generator, and just providing one wire from the generator to a house, the house must also be connected to ground, to complete the circuit, allowing the electrons a way to get home, they save an absolute ton of money. Sounds kind of lame, I know, but it works.

DC is Direct Current – that means the electricity flows only in one direction so all the electrons have a sense of purpose, all moving together from the positive side of their source, back to the negative side. You are familiar with this type of power in the form of batteries. The kind the run your cell phone, portable radios, iPods, flash lights, and your vehicles. The complexity of today’s vehicles is mind-boggling compared to what I was dealing with today, but the concept is still the same. The battery sends power, if it’s charged, to the parts that are connected to ground. In the case of a vehicle, however, ‘ground’ is any metal surface on it, especially the engine. In the case of my truck, the negative side of the battery is bolted directly to the engine block. The positive side is bolted directly to the starter. Now reading this, you may think that the starter should be spinning all the time, but it doesn’t. That’s because those who build vehicles use trickery on the electrons to make them stand around for long periods of time before ‘closing’ a circuit, by means of a switch or, perhaps, a key. A key! You turn it clockwise, and things happen. Lights dance around on your dash-board and the  ‘system’, your vehicle’s computer, goes through the same kind of start-up routine your home computer does, but different. If you watch the lights and gauges, they all do the same routine when you turn the key “ON”. Then the system waits. The electrons have been given a glimpse of the excitement to come, and are all crowing up to various switches, waiting to explode down their assigned wires when a circuit is ‘closed’ with the flip of a switch. When you turn the key a little bit further, you engage the starter. Although the starter is connected directly to the positive side of the battery (at least in my truck it’s a direct connect because in 1968 things were simple) the starter doesn’t spin, and the Bendix doesn’t engage, because it’s waiting for you to turn that key a little bit further, allowing electrons to rush to the Bendix which closes contacts that allow all the electrons in the BIG wire on the starter to engage the Bendix and spin the starter motor. When you hear the motor start, you release the key and it magically goes back to the “ON” position.

Now, where was I? Oh, yes! I was eliminating the various connectors between the battery and the small wire to the starter, the one that closes the contacts that allow power to be consumed by the starter motor. What I did was connect one wire from the fuse box, that only has voltage when the key is ON, to one side of my push button switch. I know, I probably told you it went behind the fuse box earlier, and it does, and it’s purple, but the power is connected to it via the ignition switch, not the fuse box. Since I removed the ignition switch from the equation, I needed a new power source, but one that was only available when the key is turned ON. I used a big red wire which is probably illegal in someway, but I did it anyway. I didn’t have a purple one.

From the other side of the push button switch I ran one wire, with no connectors, through the firewall, directly to the little wire connector on the starter. Now all that was between the starter and success was one little switch.

Before doing that, however, I hooked it all up to the starter, which I jammed under the right front tire, to make sure the push button did the trick. Everything sounded like it worked OK, but I couldn’t really see it because once wires were connected to the push button, I bolted it into the nifty hole I found on the left side of the dash. I layed down on the seat and pushed the button with my left foot, but I still couldn’t see the starter, I could only hear it. It sounded just like it did when Dave checked it at NAPA, so I figured everything was good to go. Here’s how I did it …

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Reinstalling the starter is a whole other story so I’ll just skip that part and get right to the meat of this story and tell you that absolutely nothing changed. All that work, and the Bendix still released after only a couple of seconds.

I was all pumped up for a successful ending, and nothing had changed. I even stopped in the middle of all that to eat a spaghetti lunch, that Diane fixed for me, with half a loaf of baguette bread, my favorite. I was READY.

I knew, however, that repeated attempts to start the engine in this manner would ultimately work. The engine does start, but it takes a while.

Tomorrow I think I’ll drive the truck down to NAPA and invite Dave out to start it for me and see what he thinks.

To end the day Diane and I went to the High School to watch the JV soccer team, the one Lydia is on, play against Aloha High School. Aloha won 2-0. Both teams had lots of kicks at the net, but only Aloha’s went in. It’s still a very confusing game, to me, with the referees blowing their whistles in a seemly random manner and making odd gestures with their arms and hands to identify the infraction as if everyone in the crowd knows exactly what’s on his mind. I guess I’m going to have to study this a little more closely. Maybe get some pictures from the internet that shows me what those gestures actually mean.

Now it’s 2222, swear to God, and time for me to go to bed. I’ve got a big day ahead of me tomorrow because I have to make sure the newest old RV starts, then take it down to get gas so we can go to the beach on Thursday.

If it doesn’t start I may have to run some more wires, or get a lawyer.

Oh. This is all the ‘stuff’ I had left over when I was done with NOT accomplishing a single useful thing today …

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