Greetings. I just happened to look at my calendar, not something I do much any more, and realized that it’s been eight (8) (ocho) (hachi) (kahdeksan) (vo-syem) (acht) (huit) (otto) days since my last entry. Realizing this, I vowed to immediately get busy to reground those of you who may be feeling a sense of loss because of my absence. I doubt there are many of you, but saving just one makes the effort worthwhile.

Last Thursday Diane and I loaded up our Winnebago, affectionately named “Wheeezie”, and headed for Cannon Beach. That’s just a few miles south of Seaside on Highway 101 for those of you not familiar with some of the more picturesque locations along the Oregon Coast. Cannon Beach was so named because of the old ship’s cannon found somewhere around there, but it’s much more famous for Haystack Rock, a monolith that appears on the same list as the Rock of Gibraltar. For those of you who don’t know what a monolith is, I’ll tell you, because I just found out … it’s a single massive rock or stone. Another reason Haystack Rock is famous is because it was featured in the movie “Goonies”. Who could forget that? What an epic! I loved it! Still do.

Getting there was just half the fun because this was the first trip for Wheeezie and we were sure how she would react after being dormant for so many years. It’s a known fact that dormant RVs are notoriously cranky and hard to deal with unless, we’ve discovered, they’re Winnebagos. These things are like the Phoenix and rise from the ashes just when you think all is lost. It’s a humbling experience.

To ensure we had a backup plan, should she break down, or run off a cliff, Diane made me drive it alone while she followed along behind, in a car with a heater, with her finger poised over the last digit of 911. Actually, I wasn’t alone. Ozzie rode with me in the passenger seat but it was simply a ceremonial position because he can’t navigate at all. He just laid there napping the entire trip.

The journey turned out to be uneventful and we made the 2 hour trip in 3 hours 45 minutes, give or take and hour. I kept my speedo on 52 mph for most of the trip, even up the hills, which turned out to be 55+ because the speedometer isn’t calibrated very well. I guess that’s OK, but makes me wonder why it took so long to get there. Perhaps RVs travel in a different universal timezone where journeys appear to take more time when, in reality, they don’t. Could be, too, I was a little anxious about it because I’ve never driven anything that big before. Ii pleased with Diane to drive it but she said her big rig driving days ended when she got rid of her last Kenworth in 1967.

So, I found a bullet to bite, and did the deed. Turns out it wasn’t so tough after all. The only glitch was when I plugged in the big electric extension cord, that comes with all RVs, the TV didn’t pop right up with 80-90 channels. That continued to be a problem until the last day of our stay when I finally figured out that the cable wasn’t properly connected inside various parts of the RV innards.

The purpose of this trip was to meet up with some classic Winnebago owners for a weekend of fellowship in the coast rain.

An added bonus for Diane and me was Lydia’s basketball tournament in Seaside. It’s always fun to watch the kids play. They didn’t do well in the tournament, but they had a fun weekend at the beach.

The trip home was as uneventful as the trip over. Though I was hoping for a more exciting time driving, it was actually pretty dull. The rig drives very nicely. Once home, and in the driveway, we promptly emptied the food, returning most of it to it’s proper place in the cupboards and various refrigerators and freezers, then Diane spiffed up the insides while I worked on some of the outside issues. We left it in the driveway until Tuesday morning when we took it back to the rental storage unit where it will live for the month of March. We’ll  be gone most of that time, so it’s OK. “Where,” you might ask, “will you be gone to?” and I’d say, “Calidego, Sanifornia.” Actually, we’ll be in Carlsbad for a week, Las Vegas for a week, then Idaho for a few days. That reminds me … I better call Jim to see if it’s OK for us to visit Idaho.

After stowing Wheeezie, we checked out the newspaper drop boxes that our Lions club monitors. In one of them I discovered a marijuana pipe and a pile of burned ashes where someone obviously started a fire. Pretty stupid since there’s no where for the smoke to go. I took the pipe to the police station and reported the incident. Guess that makes me a narc, and I’m OK with that.

For lunch we drove about 45 miles to the Ya Hala restaurant where we visited with friends. Ya Hala serves Lebanese food. I have to admit that I went there with a bit of apprehension about whether or not I’d like any of it. But, to please Jerry 1, I had a plate of Jajal, or something like that. It had dead chicken in it so figured it couldn’t be all bad, and it wasn’t. But, it was kind of bland. It was served with a side of homemade yogurt which, Diane reported, is extremely good for me. It tasted a bit like sour cream and wasn’t bad. As I watched others eat, it because apparent that the yogurt was meant to be mixed with the dead chicken & rice mixture which combined to make a unique flavor treat. The bread was my favorite … it was served hot and looked like the top half of a hamburger bun, but much softer. I discovered after a brief trial and error, that if only it would stay warm, it would serve well as a substitute breast for those of us who don’t naturally have them. It was so warm and nice, then Tom squeezed it and it deflated, as did I.

After the meal we all trekked outside to check out Jerry 1’s new addition to his custom Camaro. Pretty slick.

Then it was on to Oregon City so Diane could deliver some Avon to Kathie, who is not to be confused with Sacramento Kathie to whom we’re related. Also, it’s pure coincidence that both Kathie’s are married to Mike’s. Small world.

Around 5:30pm we determined that the Portland rush hour was at it’s peak and that we should join the throngs on the road and get back home. As it turned out, most of the traffic was escaping Portland as we entered, so it was bad at all. Plus, we choose to stay off the freeways, taking surface streets on all our journeys.

When we got home we joined Ziva who was already in a vegetative frame of mind,

and watched a couple of recorded shows on TV until Diane fell asleep, a sure sign that it was time for bed.

Yes, I watched the game. So did Diane. We did it mainly to watch the commercials. We also watched the Madonna half time show which we both thoroughly enjoyed. I guess that makes me a Madonna fan. I’m a Danika Patrick fan, too.

Before the game, Terry and his bride arrived to remove the old generator from the ’68 Winnebago I’ve been destroying. He had to get here today because Ryan is hauling off the carcass tomorrow and I’ll have to get busy cleaning up the mess. Terry and I managed to yank the generator out with little difficulty, and transfer it to his trailer. Generators are very heavy. At least the ones they made in 1968 are heavy.

After the generator went away I fired up the BBQ and we had steaks. The weather has been incredible. It must have been around 70 degrees, or so, and I was thinking about mowing the yard. Diane nixed that in favor of the BBQ.

I’ve been sitting here a while trying to think up something clever to write, so this might be at least a little interesting, but I’m coming up empty. I think that’s because Diane is making me take my fish oil pills three times a day. It’s supposed to help my heart, which works just fine, but rumor has it that it also helps ADD afflicted folks, of which she thinks I one. Jennie told her that because that’s what the doctor is doing for Jeran. I have this theory that the fish oil capsules, which also contain flaxseed, safflower, and olive oil, are suppressing my imagination. I find that things aren’t flying around in my head like they used to but I found, too, that caffeine can temporarily fix that.

Here’s what the sunrise looked like this morning from our back porch …

As an old friend, Jewel, who lives on Hawaii (big island), and lives in a house that sees every Hawaiian sunset … she’s not really old … at least she’s younger than me, I think … anyway, she calls this sunrise “stunning”. High praise from a lovely lady who is surrounded by incredibly beautiful sunsets every day. Some might think that would get boring, but it doesn’t. Here’s a Hawaiian sunset picture I took a couple of years ago so you can see what I mean …

Kinda ho hum, huh? Who would want to look at stuff like that every day? Well, Diane would. For that reason I would force myself to endure the brutal assaults on my senses. I’d suck it up and deal with it.

You may find it amusing that Diane and I are sending emails back and forth so she doesn’t have to yell at me. She’s sitting in the living room with her laptop, and I’m all alone in the Man Room, with the dogs. We’re having some of the calmest “conversations” we’ve had in years. I guess it works better when there isn’t any body language involved to emphasize certain points. Little things like raised eyebrows, or rolling your eyes in lieu of a verbal comment to something you might not believe, or simply disagree with. It’s kinda fun to enter a conversation between a couple of women and just do that once in a while without saying anything, whether or not you know what’s being discussed. It gets interesting pretty quickly. You should try it. Perks things up, it does.

Time to quit. I hope “your” team won the game today. If your team was the Patriots, I’m sorry. I’m not really sorry, because I really didn’t have anything to do with it other than to cheer on the Giants. That may have helped, a little. No, I’m not sorry at all, and you can’t make me feel bad for rooting for the winning team. I won’t allow it. No sir! We’re just not going to talk about this any more.

PS – we love our new furnace.

Yesterday, when Diane took Jennifer and Cedric to the emergency room, in Longview, I went to our rented storage facility to check up on our Winnebago. The main thing was to see if it would start. I feared that the battery may have run down since it’s been over a month since we closed that door. If it wouldn’t start, I’d have to drag it out in order to get to the battery because there’s only, like, 3 inches of space on the battery side.

Thankfully, it cranked right up, and I let it run for a little while. When the fumes started making my fingers go numb, I thought it would be a good idea to back it out so the exhaust went somewhere else. That went well. Getting it back in proved to be trickier, however, because I thought it would be a good idea to get more space on the passenger side. This meant, of course, that I needed to squeeze another inch, or two, off the driver’s side. There was contact, but I will deny it to my dying day. No major damage and I think my liability coverage will take care of it. Maybe.

So, “why,” you may ask, “did Cedric and Jennifer have to go to the emergency room, and why did Diane have to drive them?”

I’ll say, “because Jennifer couldn’t get Cedric’s bagel wound to stop bleeding, and had to keep pressure on it all the way to the hospital.” Driving wasn’t an option for her.

The visit was a success. Cedric was using a serrated knife to cut his bagel and sliced into his left thumb and into the palm of his hand. The doc used glue instead of stitches because the wound was so jagged. Then he put those little strips of tape across them like Diane uses on me all the time. The ones that are skinny on the ends, and skinnier in the middle. There’s a name for them, but it escapes me. They look like little versions of the nose strips I use to keep my nose open when I sleep. If I don’t use those, my nose slams shut. Diane wakes up and jabs me whenever she hears that sound.

So, Cedric is OK, and has something to talk about at school, which is important for a growing boy. It’s going to be an awesome scar, and I’m envious. I believe, however, that I still have a few scars in my future. There’s actually no doubt about it. I’m always finding little nicks and dings with bits of blood and don’t have a clue how it happened. So, if I’m actually paying attention when I receive a wound, it’ll probably be a good one. You’ll be the first to know, after Diane, when that happens.

I’ve decided to be a good boy when I eat. That shift was motivated by events of two days ago. Maybe it was three. Anyway, I was really on edge, not feeling well. I blamed it on the 9 pounds of Chinese food I ate at lunch, but Diane thought it was more basic than that. Bowing to her better judgement, as I always do, I made a decision to “eat right.” I was toying with the concept of not eating anything white – white flour, sugar, rice, potatoes, etc… A friend of our is doing that and he’s lost, like 180 pounds in the last couple of months! I’m guessing, here, and could be off by as much as 100 pounds or so. Still, that’s a lot of weight. He looks really great, too, because it’s not a rapid loss. He’s only losing about 4-8 pounds a day. I think the way he’s losing that weight is from spitting. You know, from spitting out all that good food, for the taste, just before eating all that non-white stuff. If I did that diet I’d just make everything brown by putting gravy on it. Simple. That, or teriyaki sauce.

Instead, I’m going to test my resistance and will power by just eating less of everything and fill up on water when my spirits start to wilt. Get it? Water? Wilt? Kinda sounds like I’m some sort of delicate flower. Not true. That’s Diane, not me. I’m like a cactus. The only time I used to drink water was when it rained in Arizona. Now I have to drink it whenever it rains in Oregon.

Last Saturday I attended a motivational seminar conducted by an old friend. As a result, I’ve decided to make a concerted effort to see if there’s a story in my head worthy enough for someone to pay for it. My first step will be to find a local writer’s group. If there isn’t one, I’ll just have meetings with myself, sitting here at my computer, talking to all of you. I’ve already looked for, and found one in St. Helens. But, it’s not in Oregon. It’s in England. That commute is a bit long for a weekly trip. Guess I’ll keep looking.

We hope everyone is doing well, wherever you may be.

Jerry 1 is the first of a very short list of Jerry’s who are charter members of the Tualatin Valley Cruiser Club (TVCC). This club is, without a doubt, one of the largest, and certainly one of the oldest clubs originally established for folks who owned Chrysler PT Cruisers. The original group had three Jerry’s, with various spellings, of which I was #2. I wanted to be #3, but everyone insisted that we be recognized in chronological order. Jerry 1, therefore, is the oldest. #3 is currently in a sunnier location, running over folks with his Segway. His Bride has one, too, and it’s been reported that they race them up and down their street, when they’re home, without a care for all the children crawling across the street. They view them kind of like traffic cones – to be avoided, but it’s OK if you bump one. That’s not true, of course.

The TVCC has been going strong for the last 10 years thanks to the tireless efforts of Rick & Jody. It’s really all Rick, but Jody lets him do it, so I guess it’s really all Jody. Whatever … it’s a great club. They boast members from all over the US as well as some in Canada & Europe. They even have a board of directors. Diane and I used to be on the board. I might have still been a member of the Board, but the majority fear that my non-serious nature about all things might be detrimental to the club image.

I’m getting off the subject, here …

The essence of this post is to clarify that, though the TVCC originated because of the PT Cruiser, of which we’ve owned 4, and currently have 2, it’s evolved into an organization that’s all about people who just like to gather, laugh, and tell lies to each other. I fit right in. It doesn’t matter if you have a PT Cruiser or not. The evidence is in the cars seen at the meetings. Jerry drove his 2012 Custom Camaro, we drove a Buick, and there was also a Dodge Magnum there last night. Oh, ya, the meetings are the 2nd Friday each month at Finley Sunset Hills Mortuary. I may have mentioned that before. So, if you ever find yourself in need of free entertainment on any 2nd Friday of any month, come on up. Dues are only $8 a year per person. That pays for the liability insurance and the TVCC web site. I’d add a link, but don’t know how, yet.

Last night’s meeting wore everyone out laughing at the antics of Jerry 1, an ex-jockey and undeniably the shortest man in the room, and Mike, a retired San Fran parole officer and the next shortest man in the room. The intention was for attendees to share stories about their best and worst cars. Between Jerry & Mike the conversation devolved into verbal sparring about how difficult it is for a short guy to shoot his rifle out of a foxhole. They were both in the Army, which is why it’s a foxhole. Apparently, if you’re short, about the only thing you can shoot out of a foxhole is a really large, slow bird. It was hilarious and I wish someone would have been filming it. It was one of those moments that needs to be frozen forever in time so you can go back and replay it.

The winner of the worst car was Vie, who was sitting at our table. She was part of the pre-meeting dinner group with us at Red Robin. The winner of the best car was Tom, who was also sitting at our table and was part of the pre-meeting dinner group. Vie’s car, in which she took her driver’s test, was an old farm truck with no doors, and two kitchen chairs for seats. She said she made sure that it had everything the driver’s manual mentioned before going for her driving test. Apparently there is no mention of doors and seats in the manual. She passed, by the way. Tom’ car is a 1964 Dodge Valiant that he’s had for 45 years. When he first got it he set it up as a dragster and ran it at tracks all up and down the West Coast. Vie said she remembers seeing the car at the Woodburn drag strip many, many years ago. This car has a 6-cylinder engine that propelled the car over 100 mph in a 1/4 mile. Quite respectful. He named it “Six Appeal”. The car is now a sedate little family coupe that will turn a 1/4 mile in about 13 seconds. Nice. It’s a red one.

So, now, back to Jerry 1’s Camaro … he claimed it as his best car because it’s a tribute to his deceased wife. She’s the one I wrote about previously who was killed at the race track when a horse kicked her. An odd tribute, you may think, but it’s OK. They discussed what each would do with their insurance money if one checked out before the other. The next time we see that car it will have Lamborghini doors … the kind that pop out and swing up. Nifty.

That’s about it for now. Except, while I sat here doing this, it snowed about 2″. First of the year. The weather man actually used the right dart this time.

Greetings Fellow Earthlings.
As most of you probably already know, this is the year the world ends. It has to because the Mayan calendar stops functioning on December 21st. To my knowledge, no one has any idea what happens when a calendar stops functioning. Maybe nothing, and that’s a double edged sword if ever there was one. Nothing, as in nothing works any more, or Nothing, as in … well, nothing happens. It’s going to be interesting to see what’s at the end of that calendar.

This morning we awoke to a bright, sunny day here in Seaside. It was absolutely beautiful all day long. We walked from one end of the boardwalk to the other, and back. Almost 4 miles in all. it was a nice, easy walk. No hills and no stairs. We were pleasantly worn out by the trek.

After resting for a while we went back to the boardwalk to watch the sunset, the first one of this year. It was gorgeous. Not as pretty as Hawaii, but still very nice. I took a picture to prove it, but it’s still in the camera so I can’t show it to you.

After the sunset we stopped by Norma’s for a terrific dinner. We thought about going to a movies, but it took us too long to eat so we just went back to the room to savor the day.

I told you about Ruth yesterday. Today I met Don, her husband. He was a career Marine so we had a terrific conversation. A lot of it was about how handy it was for Marines to have the navy around to give them rides to various places in the world. He’s been retired for 13 years so I’m older and wiser than he is. Plus, I was in the Navy. I didn’t, of course, point that out to him. Nice guy.

Now, about the end of the world … anyone have any thoughts about what we’ll be looking at on 12/22/12? I think that’s the day all the planets align and their combined gravitational pull will suck all the water to one side of the earth causing a lot of distress for pretty much everyone. But, that’s just me.