A 50’s Kid

Posted on March 2, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

I grew up with two older brothers who picked on me unmercifully, all the time. Because of this I learned very early that we’re not all created equal. It was pointed out to me fairly regularly that I was different. There were obscure references as to how I was different, but the references changed so I tended to either ignore them, or I simply believed them, taking them at face value. For instance, the reason my name is Jerrie, I was told, is because I was supposed to be a girl. That actually makes sense. I can see Mom, dealing with two boys 5 and 7, praying that I would be a girl. I was OK with that. And it justified my desire to wear dresses to school once in a while.

As I grew older it became apparent to me that I’m really not all that different. It was just the normal sibling rivalry which I always won because I was the baby. I always got my way so everything was right with the world. Topping that off in later years, I learned that my older brothers were named after a pair of mules our Dad used to have. I’m sure that’s not true, but it’s a good story and explains why they were named Gee and Haw.

Having said all that, I think I turned out pretty normal, as did my brothers. All of that was made possible, I believe, because of the strength we had as a family.

During those formative years, our parents were friends with a family who visited on a regular basis. I do not know the basis of the friendship, and I’m pretty sure we weren’t related in any way, but it seems like they visited on a regular basis, even more than relatives, and we saw our relatives pretty often. Normally they showed up when it was time for lunch. Perhaps that was it. Mom was a great cook.

This family had a young boy who I think was my age and we had a great deal of fun playing whenever they visited. Many years later it was revealed to me that my friend was mentally handicapped. I didn’t notice. I just remember that we had a lot of fun and I have absolutely no recollection of him being different from me. I think about that once in a while, and wonder why that was.

A recent discussion I had with a good friend revealed the answer to me – it just wasn’t important. It just didn’t matter. We had fun and that was what mattered. I do not recall anyone in our family ever commenting on this friend’s diminished abilities. Therefore, there was no predisposition for me to think of him that way.

I’m not relating all this in an effort to point out how special I think I am because I really don’t feel that way. I’m just your average 50’s kid. There are lots of us out here running around in public, unsupervised, and I don’t think I’m all that much different from any of them.

Another part of my growing up involved my best friend, Jimmy. We went through 12 years of school together as best friends. I went on numerous camping trips with him and his family, and he went on numerous outings with me and my family. We ran around together all the time and he’s the one who taught me to dance to Rock and Roll music in the eighth grade, 1957. I have nothing except great memories of growing up with Jimmy.

After graduating from High school, we went our separate ways. I joined the Navy and he went to college, I believe, got married and had a couple of daughters. After that he declared that he was actually a gay person. What a surprise to me. All that time we spent together, for all those years, and I didn’t have a clue. Apparently he didn’t either since he got married and had a family.

I guess the point of all this is that we are who we are. Sometimes it takes a while to figure that out. The fact that life takes us, and our friends, in surprising directions isn’t, in the end, really an issue. It’s how we deal with it “in the moment”. How we do that is pretty much the result of good parenting.

That, and I wasn’t exposed to a lot of graphic detail about issues like that throughout my childhood. Maybe I was just sheltered and very naive. Maybe I was exposed to those prejudices but they weren’t significant enough to impact my behavior. Maybe it’s because our entertainment consisted of the family gathered around the radio listening to Fibber McGee and Molly, Jack Benny, The Whistler, and during Christmas, The Cinnamon Bear. Or, we stood around the piano singing while Mom played.

Who knows?

Maybe I’m really living in a matrix and all my memories are manufactured.

Whatever the reason, I’m content with them as they are. I just wish my Kids, and their Kids, could have had that same experience. But, you know? They are content in their own version of happiness, making their own memories, and they’re going to be just fine.

TSA & Going Home

Posted on February 25, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

Yesterday was a travel day so there really isn’t much to say. Even so, I bet I can fill a page or two with absolutely nothing worth the time it will take for you to read it. Still, many of you will read on, thinking things will turn around, and it might get interesting, kinda like one of those movies that keep your interest just enough to keep you watching. Then, when the unexpected ending happens you think, “really? I actually sat here and watched that entire thing? Why did I do that?”

There is no answer, of course, because those are all rhetorical questions for which there are no answers.

Let’s talk about TSA for a little bit. I’m just a bit miffed at them for the farewell they gave me at the Kona airport.

When Diane made the travel arrangements, she submitted all the information needed for TSA pre-authorization at security. Leaving Portland it worked like a dream because we didn’t have to disrobe and we didn’t have to unpack anything except my CPAP so they could satisfy themselves it wouldn’t explode. I alerted them about my cardiac event monitor which they let me keep as I went through their scanner. Then we were on our way. Simple.

Leaving Hawaii, however, they apparently have different rules for such things. We both got in the TSA pre auth line and were sent along as expected until I explained I had a CPAP and a cardiac monitor. At that point they sent Diane on through then the agent keyed his radio and said, “Male assist line one.” Two agents, representing both genders appeared and took me aside for the full meal deal with TSA scrutiny – remove the belt, shoes, everything from pockets, and deliver a short narrative of why I part my hair on the left. They took my suitcase, removed all the liquids, in addition to the CPAP, and gave me a full pat down. All because I alerted them to the items I knew they would want to check.

I was a good boy and didn’t question their motives, but I’m sure I had them a bit worried when I began sweating profusely, like I normally do when I strip searched, because they figured having a cardiac monitor meant the likelihood of a heart attack was imminent. I actually considered clasping my hands to my chest to see what would happen but didn’t. When the pat down was in progress, and the patter guy was feeling the monitor wires through my shirt, he asked if that’s what they were and I just about said, “No, I’m actually wired to a bomb.” A moment of clarity prevented me from doing that, however, and the search continued.

When they were done, I was absolutely drenched with sweat and there was nowhere to go to do anything about it. It was going to dry, I knew, but I figured I was going to be pretty odoriferous during the flight. I made my way out to Diane and dropped my things then went to the restroom to at least splash some water in my face. When I returned, Diane said the TSA agent came out and gave her my favorite baseball hat which I had left at the search station. I guess that was nice of the agent, but it didn’t make up for the assault and the search.

Regarding the search … it wasn’t too bad, really, but I was disappointed that he missed a lot of spots that I thought would have been enjoyable had he touched them. He had a female agent with him, however, apparently in training, so he may have been a bit reserved for that reason.

The female agent offered to re-pack everything, but I declined and did it myself. Slowly, so they had to watch.

The bit question regarding all of this is what purpose does the TSA pre-authorization serve, really, if all TSA agents aren’t required to abide by the same rules. I can only presume that all TSA manuals, and modifications to the manuals, are like the Bible in that what the agents read is open to their personal interpretation. Therefore, they are never wrong, right?

Our flight was supposed to board through gate 7. Departure time was 1245 so I kept an eye on it like a hawk when the clock edged toward 1215. We could see the gate, but there was no movement through it, but there was a bunch of it through gate 9 so around 1230 I went to check on it and discovered that gate 9 was the one being used instead of gate 7.

If any of you have flown into, or out of, Kona, you know that this isn’t really a big deal because gates 7 thru 9 exit an area with only enough chairs to hold maybe 50 people, and there really isn’t a lot of traffic. But, being literal like I am, I figured when they said gate 7, that’s actually what they meant.

Discovering that gate 9 was the proper one, we went that direction and wound up being almost the last two on the plane. There were a few behind us, but they had to be hunted down and dragged to the plane so we could take off. No one ever reported where they found them but I suppose that’s really none of our business. Still, it would have been nice to know.

Finally, in our seats, with cool air blowing the aroma of my drying sweat all over the people in my immediate vicinity, the plane was pushed away from the terminal and the flight attendants aligned themselves to give their normal spiel about safety and all that. We had 4 attendants – 3 mail, 1 female. Lucky me was sitting in the aisle seat right where Brad positioned himself to go through the life jacket and oxygen mask demonstration. I felt like reaching out to poke him to see if his abs were as solid as they looked. Knowing Diane would disapprove made me think twice, however, so I kept my poker to myself. He was pretty cute. Using Brad as my example, the other two guys, whose names I never learned, were kind of the low-end of the Bell Curve at the younger and older ends. The younger one, was obviously a surfer dude, I thought, because of his shaggy bleached hair. Upon entering the plane I asked if he brought his surf board. He just grinned and nodded and I went on my way. The older guy was partially bald making me think I could probably be a flight attendant if I put my mind to it. The female attendant appeared to be a 5’2″ compressed version of a very shapely 6′ girl who weighs 165 lbs. The bulk was still there, but just not as attractive as the 6′ version. Kind of like a Rolls Royce that’s been compressed into one of the metal blocks destined for the smelter. OK. Sorry. That’s a bit of an exaggeration because she really wasn’t really unattractive, just apparently enjoying her position at the senior end of her chosen profession.

The flight landed an hour ahead of its scheduled time because we had a really good tale wind. We knew this was going to happen before leaving and I was able to text Jennifer, who was picking us up, so she wouldn’t arrive too late. It was a good trip, and we were both happy it was over.

Once tied up to the walkway, we once again witnessed one of the events that always amaze us as everyone prepares to exit the plane. Virtually everyone brings something aboard that needs to be placed in the overhead bins. If you don’t fly a lot, you may forget about how courteous everyone is during this evolution. It’s very orderly, like after a funeral where each row is allowed to leave before the next one can que up behind them. It’s pretty amazing to watch. No one gets upset, and it works just great. It’s expected. It’s too bad that these same people would push you off the freeway in a heartbeat if you dared to get in their way.

Just sayin.

I was good to see Jennifer and Lydia waiting for us. We went right to the car and headed home. Lydia and I sat in the back and talked about interesting things all the way home. At their house we went in to greet the rest of the family, then took ourselves home. It was raining the entire drive, but we didn’t mind.

The dogs were overjoyed to see us and we had to give them a lot of extra attention. They deserved it. So did the cat.

Scrambled Eggs & Sherbet In Paradise

Posted on February 17, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

At this exact point in time it is right at 1520 which is only a two hours difference from home which was erroneously reported as a 3-hour difference just recently. I think I got that from the pilot of the plane we rode in on. That, or I just took a guess. Since I’ve corrected that terrible miscalculation it’s a moot point so you may summarily dismiss any further references to time, in general.

I point out the time because I’m still in the bathrobe provided by the resort. We have been trapped in our room all day by horrendous weather, on the parking lot side, and noisy golf carts whizzing past on the lanai side. That’s a lie, of course. Just didn’t want it to get out that I’m still in my robe because Diane just got up about 30 minutes ago. It was a long night for her … too much beef over the past two days, we think.

She’s currently undergoing therapy, soaking in the tub …

When she’s all softened up, I will take my shower, then we will forage for
food that will be more gentle to our picky innards …

I am compelled to share with you that they have incredible water pressure here. That tub filled in about 1.5 minutes. Seriously. Well, maybe 2.5, but that’s still fast.

Here’s the view from our lanai …

As you can see, we’re pretty close to the volcano. Some of those rocks are still hot, but not too hot for the weasels, or ferrets, that habitat the resort. I suspect they don’t pay dues like everyone else here, but no one seems to mind.

Here’s another view from our lanai, if you zoom out and look up a little …

Just to keep you abreast of what’s going on, it’s now 1555 and I’m going to take my shower while Diane recovers from her bath.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

It’s much later now, after 1900, actually, and we actually got out of the room for a little while. Diane got up feeling lots better, and she was hungry, a good sign. This time the desire was something more in the “comfort food” area, like eggs. Those are our go-to choice when nothing else appeals. They’re just really good.

To get them, considering it was 1700-ish at the time, we had a couple of choices. We could revisit the Farm Market at the Mauna Whatsit resort next door, or take a short trip to Waikaloa Village, a short jaunt up the hill where the temp is only 73 instead of 76 where we currently ‘live’. We know that’s true because our rental car has a thermometer that told us. OK, it didn’t actually ‘tell’ us, it ‘showed’ us. On the dash, in a place I’m not allowed to look because, although I’m the registered driver of the vehicle, and Diane is secondary, and she’s semi-ill, I’m still not allowed to drive. I think that’s just wrong in a variety of ways, but it’s best, for me, to not attempt to push the boundary of my God-given rights as a man to rule the roost. As the ‘King’ of my abode, I am simply a figurehead, as are almost all good married men (GMM).

It rained at some point during the day, but only lightly because I didn’t see anything coming down any of the six or seven times I looked outside. It also rain on our trip to Waikaloa Village, but barely enough to need the wipers. Diane used them anyway for two reasons: 1) The windshield was dirty, and 2) She just wanted to see how they worked. From my secure spot in the passenger seat, I felt more qualified to investigate how to activate the windshield sprayers to aid in getting the windshield clean and to help allow Diane to keep both hands on the steering wheel and looking at the road. Why take chances, right?

The trip was uneventful and we found the market just fine, did our shopping and made it back to the car for under $65. All we got were 2 yogurts, 6 bananas, frozen lasagna, a dozen eggs, loaf of bread, 1/2 # of butter, salt & pepper, small strawberry jelly, small can of soup, small brick of cheese, and a box of crackers. Oh, and two bottles of mineral water for an ailing tummy. Bread was an absolute bargain at $2.50. At the neighboring resort it’s $5 a loaf.

Tomorrow we’re either going to Safeway, or Costco. First, however, we’re going to Kua Bay and look for whales. Honest. I know, I said we were going to do that today and it didn’t happen so why am I so sure it will happen tomorrow? I just know, OK. And, I told Diane it would be awful if I had to go alone. So, sick or not, she’s bound to go, and she’ll insist of driving. She feels terrible, by the way, for feeling ill, like it’s something she can control. I am not, however, concerned about any inconvenience on my part because I am a GMM. Just ask her.

Tomorrow we will investigate paradise.

We will also make plans to connect with Jewel. By the way, for those who are interested, Friday is Jewel’s birthday. On that day she will officially be a lot older than me.

Diane just texted me from the bedroom, where she’s watching “The Bachelor”, requesting some more mineral water and a small scoop of sherbet. Oh, ya. We bought sherbet. Frozen peas, too. I think that’s all.

I had some sherbet, too.

PDX Embassy Suites – First Stop

Posted on February 15, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

We finally made it to Portland at 1632 after a pretty grueling start to the day. For Diane the grueling part started out around 0130 when she thought the bit of chili she had for supper last night came back to torture her. She only slept, in the bed, for about two hours but reported that she lost two hours in the bathroom. She either shifted briefly to an alternate universe, or just flat went to sleep in there. She’s not sure. I just know I was up at the normal time for the dogs, then about 0800 she presented herself to me looking pretty rugged, hugging a hot water bottle to her tummy. It was one of those really sad moments where you want to hug them because they look pitiful, but you’re afraid to touch her because you know she might rip your arm off. I left her alone, followed her back to the bedroom, closed all the doors, and left her alone for a few hours. When she emerged the next time, she was fairly presentable and ready to face the day. Since we needed to be in Portland before dark, that was a good thing.

We both had packed our suitcases last night, so that was out of the way. My main challenge was to remember all of the charging cords needed for the electronically gizmos that must travel with us. Everywhere. So we can stay connected, you know?

We stopped by Mom’s house for a short visit on the way, then it was off to the church to participate in the quilt show tear-down. Since I hadn’t eaten all day I took advantage of the left overs and gorged on a very large container of Valerie’s special clam chowder. That and about 15 saltines. I carried it around so when people saw me they couldn’t ask me to do anything because my hands were full. I was really hungry.

Finally, everything was done. We just had to wait a little extra for Nancy to finish vacuuming. If she had been a little faster, we could have left a little earlier.

Jennifer drove us to Embassy Suites and bid us farewell. Upon entering the facility, we quickly discovered that our chosen place to stay was also the favorite place of pretty much every teen age basketball team in the Northwest. Kids with basketballs. Nice. And we have to get up at 0500. That’s just way too early for me, but it has to be done. The plane leaves at 0720 and it’s not going to wait.

First stop after checking in was the restaurant because Diane hadn’t eaten all day. It was time. She ordered a 14 oz rib eye steak. That was good for her but meant I was limited to a cheap pizza because of budgetary constraints. A 14 oz steak, of any kind, was way too big for Diane, but she did some serious damage to it, making me proud. The pizza, for me, was perfect because of all the clam chowder I’d eaten just moments before. It was really great, too. Good pizza. The other half of the rib eye was pretty good, too. I was amazed at how much I was able to eat and still be able to stand up.

I did, however, and waddled up to the room where I am currently sitting on the couch waiting until an appropriate time to go to bed.

Like now. Tomorrow I will be talking from Waikaloa.

Hearts, Haircuts, Quilt Shows & Computers

Posted on February 15, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

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 …

This is Nancy …

Barb & Pat …

My lovely Valentine, Diane …

… and the cooks, Valerie & Mary …

Shoe Litter, and Snow Balls

Posted on February 11, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

I just received a comment from a young lady, Miss Lou, who has a very entertaining blog. She also likes shoes. I was going to send her the link for my entry where I gathered up all of the shoes from around the house so I could vacuum, as directed.

Instead, to commemorate this entry, my 550th, I thought I’d just touch on that subject one more time. Besides, I can’t find the entry. It would take too long.

So, here’s the photos I took of that memorable day …

These are my shoes I returned to the bedroom. You might recognize the old brown Nike Airs from yesterday. Though the new shoes are very comfortable, I’ve had these things for so long they just cling to my feet.

And, here’s a week’s worth of Diane’s shoe litter. I took all of these to the bedroom, too, but not in one trip. I thought about stuffing them into her shoe closet to see if she would notice, but a sudden burst of clarity overcame me causing me to simply leave them like this.

Yes, she has a shoe closet. It’s cedar-lined, and accessible quickly from any point in the house in case of a shoe emergency. That’s it, at the end of the hall.

Inside you’ll notice that the top four shelves are pretty neat, then the organization descends into chaos. The reason, I think, is because the top four shelves are for shoes that don’t get worn as often as those on the bottom three shelves, and the floor.

Every once in a while she will dig into the closet to find something appropriate for whatever she’s got on, and toss me a question, like, “have you seen those cute little shoes with the mosaic things on top, that tie in the back? I think they’re brown.”

Though she will deny it, this is code for, “Jerrie, please look around and see if you can find those cute little shoes … and don’t stop until you do.” I promptly get on it because I’m a good married man, and, if I don’t, I’ll likely forget which is not a good idea because that’s like ignoring the code.

Not too long ago I would have simply answered, “No,” and gone about my business. Since learning the code, life is a lot less stressful.

Yesterday, Jennifer and Lydia appeared for a brief visit after which we retired to the snow-covered front yard to conduct a minimal search for the hat Gilligan buried the day before. After discovering that the snow had thawed enough to make outstanding snowballs, the search was called off and the battle was on. Lydia cheated and ran all the way around the house and got into their car in the driveway, but Jennifer stuck it out and took a beating. In retaliation, she buried the pullover that she was bringing to me because her mother didn’t think it was a good idea for me to be running around in the snow in a T-shirt. Had I known she was delivering the pullover to me, I would have delayed my attack. Instead, I paid the price.

Then I went after Lydia in the car. She wasn’t quick enough to lock the door so I was able to flush her out and started lobbing bombs onto her over the car. It wasn’t very successful, but I had her mightily worried for a while.

Oh. Diane went to the doctor today and learned she has bronchitis. She got new meds to ensure she’s healthy enough to fly to Hawaii with me next week. If not, guess I’ll have to leave her home. Hate to do that but, you know, the tickets are paid for.

Hoover Dam, New Blance, & Nike

Posted on February 10, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

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 …

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.

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 …

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 …

… and here’s the other pair …

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.

Messy Drawers, and Little Kids

Posted on February 9, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

Today was interesting because Diane woke up full of adrenalin and instructions. Fortunately, for me, because I was taking my morning nap during the initial surge, but I was caught up in it when I started to pay attention to the little noises going on all around me.

When I got up, I found Diane in the hall, to the East Wing, staring at a spot on the wall. She had one of our prints in her hand and was trying to determine if where she was staring was a good place to put it. Not being totally awake, I just agreed with everything she said which was the wrong response because she was looking for opinions. Normally I have those, but not when I first wake up, or when it involves hanging pictures on the wall. If left to my own devices, I’d just start hammering nails in the wall and hang everything up. We’ve been in the house for 7 years, now, and not many things have been hung up, yet. I believe today is the beginning of a change. We got one picture hung!

Shortly thereafter, she went searching for something in one of the floor level drawers in the butler’s hall. I like saying that, “Butler’s Hall.” It just sounds all hoy faloy and uppity. It’s really just a hallway between the kitchen and Man Room that really doesn’t have to be there. I think I’ll knock the kitchen wall down and rearrange everything. I’ll do that one day when Diane’s out shopping at Goodwill.

Back to the drawers, we have three of those drawers, and they are extremely hard to open and close. Especially when they’re full of things we really don’t need. Having a knack for dealing with things we don’t need, and having a new-found desire to rid ourselves of at least some of them, I took over the task of pawing through the drawer innards.

Inside I found a couple of small bags of soft, practice golf balls, six golf tees, 40-50 pens & pencils, a set of nice dog trimming shears as well as one for people, dog and cat flea killer, a roll of teflon tape, 8 furniture glides, a crazy ball the size of a small marble, a wrapped package containing six boxes of sparklers from 1995, three unopened packages containing a dog toothbrush and paste, and many others various kinds of things that get thrown into little used drawers with a sincere belief they will be taken care of at a later date. Proving the latter to be true, I took care of it all. The drawer is now all neat and tidy containing far fewer things we absolutely don’t need. The other two drawers are already pretty neat so I will leave them alone. One of them is the repository or about 75 placemats of varying designs to match virtually any occasion.

While finishing that up, Diane made a wonderful lunch composed of small parts of a dead pig, mashed potatoes, and one of the 35 cans of string beans we have stashed in another drawer in the hall that is difficult to open and close. Dealing with that is an entirely different project.

During lunch we watched a bit of the movie “Hangover II”. The meal was finished before the movie but we didn’t finish it because Jeff, Heather, and girls showed up to play in the snow.

The girls arrived at the door with their boots already full of snow which we learned was from the walk up the hill because the car couldn’t make it. They had a really good time of it and were ready to spend some time inside.

Gilligan, on the right, displayed her normal demure self. She’s always on stage.

Then it was time to go, so everyone got all bundled up and went outside to play a bit before trundling down the hill to the car, and home. Getting the entire group to look the same direction, at the same time, without moving, or putting their hands up, is a difficult thing to do, so this is about as good as it gets. Gilligan is winking, Jerrie is trying to get away, and Baylee is doing what she can to get presentable. Something going on all the time, but at least they’re in one place for a moment.

They tried to make snow angels, but simply laying down didn’t work because there’s a crust of ice on top of the snow and they didn’t sink in. To attain this position we got them to stand up, put their hands up and fall over backwards. Even so, they didn’t get very deep, but they had fun.

Jeff even got into the spirit and did the flop.

… and he made a right nice snow angel.

At some point during all the outdoor frivolity, Gilligan decided it would be an excellent idea to bury her perfectly good had in the snow. When it was time to leave, she couldn’t remember where she did it. We split up, following all the smaller footprints, to check for likely burial spots, but we had no luck. I searched a bit longer after they left, but the hat is still missing and will remain so until the snow melts.

Superbowl XLVIII

Posted on February 3, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

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

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

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

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

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

I was stunned!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did I miss any?

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

We also had nuts, as I mentioned.

Wiper Motor, Computers, and Lydia

Posted on January 27, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

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 …