Manual Labor & Uranus

Hi! It’s been a while and I’m sure everyone has been wondering where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing. About all I can tell you, without crossing that fine line separating from … well … make-believe, is that I woke up in my own bed this morning with no memory of what transpired since the 18th. Consequently, what you about to read, should you choose to do so, is probably a complete fabrication.

Last Tuesday I spent part of the day recovering from a little computer work I did for Roberta, one of Wynette’s classmates from High School. I did that work on Monday and it’s something I haven’t done for a while so it made my brain tired.

During Tuesday afternoon I spent my time moving rocks and dirt from the side yard, by the garage, to various other places on the property. I know that’s all true because I can see where rocks and dirt are missing, and I can see where other places have more than they used to. The following days it is apparent that I continued this behavior, all the way through yesterday, except for the side trips we took to look at cars because Diane wants a new one. Not a NEW new one, but an OLD new one. Specifically, what she wants is a 2005 PT Cruiser GT convertible just like Nancy’s, but different. Diane wants a white one with a tan top. Like this …

02

If you see one for sale, wherever you are, please let whoever owns it that Diane  wants it. Or, you can send her the contact info at d.j.cate@hotmail.com.

Besides all that work, and shopping for cars, we also had an opportunity to meet and get to know our new neighbors. They are: Scott, Whitney, Kye, Brooklyn, and Taylor (the dog). I’m sure I misspelled Kye’s name, but she’s a cute 3-years-old. Her younger sister is 1.5, or so. A very nice young family happy to be out of Hillsboro. Good neighbors. So far.

I think there was a moment of lucidity in the last few days where I called Scappoose Sand & Gravel and ordered a few yards of driveway gravel which explains the reason I moved so much dirt and gravel from the space that’s destined to received the new, clean gravel. It’s my understanding that it will be delivered on September 2nd. We’ll see how that works out. Once it’s delivered I’ll have to expend some manual labor to spread it out. Either that, or rent a really big power tool.

Outside the lucid moments I’m sure I made a couple of trips to Uranus. Something like that. I’m guessing, but it’s based on the fact that I mysteriously have a brand new roll of toilet paper in my bathroom where the last I knew it was half gone. So, it’s for sure got something to do with an anus of some sort. Probably mine. I’m not sure. I also have an injury on my chin that was, I sense, caused by an unprovoked attack by a piece of fencing I moved. There’s also a rhododendron injury beneath my left breast area that is pretty sore. I know it’s from a rhododendron because I’ve had them before. There’s no logical reason for me to suspect the fence for my chin injury but whenever I look at it I’m forced to cringe. So, it’s got to be guilty.

Today was a normal Sunday in many ways. Specifically, we got up and went to church. Then, instead of dropping by the Kozy Korner for lunch, Diane drove us to the Sizzler in Longview, Washington. She apparently read my mind because I’ve been hankering for a piece of dead cow and Sizzler is the best place to get some of that for a decent price. Diane’s Mom, Jean, had the salad bar, Diane had the chicken Malibu, and I had the 6 oz steak, all you can eat shrimp, and the salad bar. I was also hankering for some dead shrimp, so it worked out great. When it was all said and done, I’d consumed the steady, 45 shrimp, 3 pieces of dead chicken, a baked potato, and a soup bowl of ice cream. When eating at any establishment that allows you to serve your own ice cream, always use the soup bowls instead of those tiny little cups they provide. They have handles and they hold more ice cream.

Now it’s almost evening and I’m stuck in my recliner where I intend to stay until it’s time for bed. That will be in about 4 hours. We’ll be watching re-runs of “Big Bang Theory” until then. We’re halfway through season 3.

Mazatlan – Day 6

I should have mentioned yesterday that after Linda’s surgery on Wednesday, she recognized Tom right away. There was a danger that she wouldn’t. We’re very happy for her and know that Tom is, too. I’m sure there are some days where she would be OK not admitting Tom is hers, but recognizing him is good.

So, “what’s that all about?” you ask, and rightly so because this surgery had nothing to do with Linda’s head, but her liver. Both Tom and Linda explained how the surgery could possibly cause memory loss, and it made a bit of sense at the time. However, the complicated nature of the surgery and possible side affects were well outside the scope of my understanding so the explanation never made it into long term memory. I was able to keep it long enough to nod once in a while, indicating that I understood, when in fact I didn’t. My main concern focused on the effect on these two lovely people, not the cause. So, as did they, we put our trust into the hands of God and prayed that he would guide the surgeon’s hand. A lot of people were doing that, and it worked. So, there’s something for the heathen’s amongst us to think about.

Last night, before retiring, Diane was feely frisky so challenged me to a game of cribbage, which I won. She then challenged me again, and I won that one, too. We played a third game which she won handily, ending the need for challenges. Throughout the games we laughed like little kids in a manner we haven’t enjoyed in years. It was fun, something we don’t seem to have time for at home and it makes us wonder why. We don’t really have to go all the way to Mexico to recapture that part of ourselves. No sir. We could do that by just going to, say, Fort Stevens, or even the county park by the Scappoose airport. Or maybe we could just go out in the driveway and sit in one of the old Winnebagos and play cards there. I think the point my brain is trying to make is that we don’t have to leave home, really, to experience the fun times. It’s simply that ‘Home’ seems to have replaced the term ‘Work’ in our vocabulary, and work isn’t legally a place to have fun. So we don’t.

I’m going to change that upon our return home. I’m going to have fun every day, whether or not Diane gives me permission to do so. I’ll have fun chipping paint, removing paint from bricks that was placed there by the previous owners who weren’t too concerned about being sloppy. I’ll have fun mowing the grass … no, I do that already … I’ll have fun cutting down more blackberry vines, ripping out bushes that grow in places I don’t want them to grow, painting walls that have never been painted before, finishing Diane’s laundry room, adding fake walls to cover things we don’t want to see, refinishing the wood work around the remaining 12 windows in the house (I’ve already done 4 of them) … gotta stop this, now. My head is starting to hurt and Mexico is looking a lot better with each word …

The birds are back this morning … the gaviotas. There are also a few vultures here and there that soar over us, looking for something dead to clean up. One of the warnings given to us, which I failed to mention, is that at every public place, someone must keep guard and warn if a vulture is coming near. If so, the guard warns everyone so they can start moving around to make sure the vultures know there’s nothing there for them, and they sail away. For some folks, the vultures serve as timers, because they come around on a rigid schedule, causing people to at least turn over so they can crisp up their other tender areas in the hot sun. Kinda like turning a marshmellow at just the right speed over a bed of coals so it turns toasty brown and instead of catching on fire.

Now it’s time to venture outside and take a walk on the beach.

The walk is over and it’s 1450. The sun is hot, but seems to be more tolerable each day. We may move here.

I’m saddened by the fact that I will be unable to watch the Ducks game this afternoon because the sports channels we’ve found are all soccer related. Not actually ‘related’, but specifically soccer, the only true football according to Lydia’s soccer coach. No, to him soccer is the only ‘real’ sport. Lydia found that out when he asked her what position she played and she told him pitcher and 2nd base. Obviously not soccer.

Back to the Ducks – I’ll be doing some searching in a little while to see if I can remedy the problem. I’ve GOT to see that game! My entire vacation will be absolutely ruined if I can’t. Maybe I’ll be able to watch it live on ESPN via the internet. They won’t mind if I spend a few hours in the deli to do that, I’m sure. Might even buy something this time.

Diane’s been poisening me with lactose free leche the entire time we’ve been here. I thought there was something different about how it felt on my tongue, but didn’t question it until I had to go buy some more because we drank what we had. I’m sure I’ll survive, but I feel deceived.

It is now 1717 and we have spent the past 3 hours sitting at a table outside the deli talking with an ex-pat from Ohio who lives on the north shore of Lake Chapala which is south of Guadalhara. Though we heard her entire life story, there’s no way I could remember enough to make it worth sharing. Oh, Carolina’s son, Brian, went to nuclear power school in the Navy, spent six years on active duty, then went to Texas A&M to be a mechanical engineer, joined the Air Force, and is currently the physical ed teacher at the Air Force academy in Colorado Springs. Oh, and her Dad grew up in Western Nebraska, same as mine. Go figure. Another one of those small world ‘things’.

We ate our chili for lunch today so we’re technically out of hot food. We still have bread, peanut butter, and jelly, so we won’t starve, in case you’re concerned. I suggested that we could have toasted PB&J’s for a change, which I’ve had before and found to be quite good. I love crunchy things.

Not much else left for today. Talking with Carol all that time kinda wore me out, and changed the direction of my thought patterns, which happens to me all the time so that shouldn’t be a problem.

Here’s Diane checking her email and Facebook ‘stuff’.

20131005-173312.jpg

Linda sent good news that she’s home and doing well. Her memory is fine so far and she can’t even forget some of the things, and people, who she would like to forget. So, there was a downside to the operation, after all. Seriously, we’re so happy she’s doing OK. Now that she’s back home Tom won’t have to cook any more.

Mazatlan – Day 4

This morning I was up at 0622, the first time, then again at 0845, to stay. Early, for me. Diane, of course, was up already, at my second arising, but not long enough to have made coffee. So, I had to wait. While doing that, we had a nutritious breakfast of imported cereal. And toast.

Then we went to the concierge and got shuttle tickets for a trip into town to look around a bit, spend all our money at the main shopping plaza, and meet new friends. The shuttle stops at the Pueblo Bonito Mazatlan hotel and it’s a fair hop from there to town, so we engaged a pulminaria (sp) taxi, piloted by Sergio, for $8 to get us there. It was a cheap ride, but not as cheap as the bus. We had a guided tour, though, so it was worth it. Sergio was very engaging, and full of knowledge, being a native Mazatlanian.

Walking the streets near the local resorts makes people like us targets for the hawkers, trying to get people to go view ‘their’ resort for their 90 minutes presentation. In addition, they will give you $300 which, I have no doubt, would be in the form of a discount should you agree to buy from them. These people drive by in cars and jump out when they see a target, and begin a serious hard sell that’s hard to get away from. Persistent “No Thank You’s” fall on deaf ears. One of the more congenial ‘vendors’, who had a table set up on the sidewalk, said when we walk out of a resort like that, it’s as if we have “… dollars signs hanging all over us.”

A pulminaria, a word Sergio taught us, but I’m not sure how to spell, is a VW chassis covered with a fiberglas body that’s open all the way around. Very breezy, which was perfect. He took us the entire 4-5 miles around the crescent shaped bay on which Mazatlan resides. If one is ambitious, one could walk the entire distance on the very broad cement walkway that keeps the beach next to the ocean. Very picturesque. There are a multitude of bronze statues along the way, but my favorite is a full size bronze rendition of the taxi in which we were riding, a pulminaria. I’m sure it was just painted bronze, but the effect was nice, and unexpected. Fun art.

We contracted with Sergio for a ride back to the shuttle stop at 1330 which gave us about 1.5 hours to shop around. The market place is a very busy place not only for tourists, but also for locals. You can get pretty much anything you want there. Mainly, for the tourists, it’s all about trinkets, and clothes. Diane bought a couple of dresses, and I bought her a beaded bracelet that caught my eye. We also bought a coupl bottles of water to lake our thirst. While in the market, we encountered Lourdes and Jim, the couple we originally thought were from Forrest Hills, but are, in fact, from Roseville. Not that far away, but close. So, sadly, my the entry in which I related this information was a lie, and I apologize. That does not mean I won’t lie again, today or in the future, but it means I’m sorry for that one error.

We spent the last 15 minutes of our downtown time in the Mazatland cathedral, a very nice way to end out trip to this very friendly city. Sergio showed up exactly on time, and took us back to the ‘other’ Pueblo Bonito where we had a terrific, over-priced lunch. I was very enjoyable, in an over-priced manner. Did I mention it was a bit over-priced? But, it was really delicious and a nice break from the imported food we’ve been eating.

Now we’re back in our room for a cool-down period prior to heading out to the pool area to rehydrate.

Beyond that, our day is pretty much done, and it’s only 1700. Go figure.

Here’s a shot of our small living room/kitchen area with Diane resting & reading. There’s a huge, very heavy coffee table that goes in front of the couch but the chairs are more comfortable for propping up one’s feet.

20131003-174031.jpg

This was taken from in front of the couch looking the other direction. Very spacious.

20131003-174413.jpg

These are some of the pet birds that live in their very own area of the resort. There are big pink ones, and much smaller white ones. I’m guess the white ones are very young and just haven’t had the chance to eat enough shrimp to turn pink, yet.

20131003-174526.jpg

Mazatlan – Day 3

I rained immensely this morning, according to Diane. When I got up, however, there was absolutely no evidence of nearby clouds, or wet grounds, to support her claim so it’s possible she just take a page from my ‘book’ and made it up. She does have a little wiggle room for validity, however, because she was up almost four hours before me. I didn’t get up until almost 1000, or 0900 Oregon time, when I normally arise from my morning nap. Seems that my night of sleep just carried over into my nap time since I didn’t have to get up and let the dogs out.

This new info gives me reason to believe that I should teach the dogs how to unlock the back door so they can let themselves out each morning instead of waking me up. Doing that, of course, would require psychological intervention for Ozzie who would be able to participate because he won’t jump off the bed. I guess I’ll just table that thought for now. By the time we get home it will be a lost memory and won’t be an issue.

After getting up, and having a very expensive breakfast of simple toast, coffee, and cereal, we donned our swim wear, under which we are naked, and trekked to the pool next to our building and spent a delightful two hours laying in the shade, floating in the pool, and visiting with other guests. Specifically, we talked with Claire & Meredith who are from Houston but have a marked British accent. We met them yesterday at the pool and learned that Claire, at least, is definitely a British native who has lived in Houston for the past 8 years. It would have been excellent if her British accent also had a Texas drawl, don’t you think. We actually touched on that subject yesterday, but I left that alone today. Also at the pool were Mike, retired Navy, and his wife, who gave me her name but apparently took it back because I can’t remember it. Neither can Diane.

Around 1300 or so, all of our strenuous morning activity made it apparent that the depleted energy received from our meager breakfast was in need of replacement. As a result, we are currently sitting at our little round table, that has ample room for four, which I pushed close to the wall so Diane could read her iPad, while plugged in, as he ate her imported dead chicken and noodle soup, imported Ritz crackers on to which she smeared her imported creamy Skippy peanut butter. Beverage of choice for the meal is Mexican water filtered through the imported filter. Desert is an imported scrumpcious Kellogg’s Rice Krispies Treat. In all, I value the lunch at about $32.18, including tax.

After we’re through eating we’re going to go walk on the beach and send you all mental waves of pleasure that we will receive from the sun’s warmth, and the fine warm sand through which we will walk. Every once in a while I’ll dip my toe into the icy waters of the ocean to … oh wait! The ocean here isn’t icy at all. It’s quite pleasant, actually. So, dipping my toe may go totally unnoticed by those of you who monitor my ‘pleasure wave’ transmissions.

Before I forget, we spoke with a gentleman at the pool yesterday who originally claimed to be from Sacramento but, he buckled while being questioned and admitted that he was really from Forresthill, California and his name is Jim. Diane and I looked at each other thinking, “that sounds oddly familiar,” but couldn’t quite put our finger on it. It was as if we actually had friends who lived there that prompted the feeling of familiarity. As we talked, however, we determined that it wasn’t associated with friends at all. We have relatives who live in that vicinity. We have so many of those, however, that it’s really difficult to keep track of all their names. I’m sure it will come to us eventually. Probably between bites during dinner.

The will now be an intermission, though you won’t know it other than the fact I’m related the info to you, as I read a bit of my book, and then take that walk on the beach.

Duh duh duh duh duh duh duuuuuuuh …. duh duh duh duh duut, ta duhduhduhduh, duh duh duh duh duh duh duuuuuuuh … duut, ta duh duh duh duh duh, duh, duh. Now, where have you heard that song?

It’s almost 8 pm, and a great deal has transpired in my absence.

First, we took that walk on the beach that I mentioned earlier. We walked up the beach first. Going “up” means the ocean is on your left. That’s always true when you’re on the west coast of any country. If you are on the east coast of any country, up is with the ocean on your right. This is always true, I don’t care where you’re from.

So, up the beach we walked, perhaps half a mile. At this point I thought I would be clever and insert a photo of the beach that we walked up as viewed from our window. But, in all my cleverness to segregate Diane’s and my Apple IDs I am unable to access pictures taken with her iPhone. Oh, well. Perhaps I’ll figure it out later and just add them at the end like I did yesterday.

20131002-205024.jpg
The beach is not very wide and it slopes sharply into the sea, totally unlike Oregon beaches which spread for 1/4 mile, at times, from water to the dunes. OK, maybe not a 1/4 of a mile, but at least 100 yards or so. They are really wide, with a very gentle slope. When walking on the beach, say at Seaside, one has the feeling of being on relatively level ground. Here, however, the slope is great enough that one tends to swivel toward the water with each step, no matter which way one’s going, up or down the beach. It didn’t matter, really, because the water is as reporter, just like bath water. Incredibly warm. We just got our feet wet.

When walking on the beach we always keep an eye out for ‘special’ rocks and shells. When one catches our eye we snag it and put it in a pocket. Sometimes we even wash the sand off, first. Today Diane was looking for beach glass. Actually, that’s just remnants of beer bottles someone threw into the rocks at some point in time, smashing it into smithereens, and with time in the sand the sharp edges are worn smooth. We found quite a bit of it. In case you’re into this, my theory is that green glass is Heineken, brown glass is Budweiser, and clear glass is Miller. There are other colors, of course, but the three mentioned are the majority of what you’ll find.

The first shell we found was a nice little cowry shell, and it’s the only one we saw the entire time on the beach.

When we turned around, we walked down the beach to the extreme end of the Pueblo Bonito property, and a little beyond. It was very relaxing, and I picked up a discarded plastic cup into which I began stuff little pieces of debris that doesn’t belong on a beach. Like plastic and more cups. It’s just something we do when walking on the beach. I guess it’s our Oregon training from many beach cleanups we’ve participated in over the years. It’s gratifying.

Instead of walking back up the beach to the point where we gained access to the beach, we went up the first staircase we found at the south end of the resort. When we got to the top, we discovered another swimming pool about which we previously knew nothing. It’s beautiful and is right by one of the restaurants about which we also knew nothing. Funny thing. There is resort staff all over the place in this area, but absolutely no guests. They really wanted us to go on in and eat something, but we weren’t hungry at the time. It looked like a great place to visit before leaving here, though.

We wandered back toward our building, #1, beginning at building #24. It was a rather long walk, and it tuckered Diane out a little to the point where she was sad that she turned down a ride in a golf cart limo, offered by one of the staff who cruises around looking for people who look like they need help. I have no doubt he was sent our way because they were watching us on security cameras and wondered how we got where we were without showing up on a camera going there in the first place. Good security.

We finally got back to the room where we both plopped down on the sofa and took large breaths of cool air. After a bit of channel checking, I discovered HBO on which was playing “The Hunger Games”, a movie I’ve been wanting to see by have never had the opportunity. Diane wanted to go to the pool and read her book some more and told me to stay and watch it, so I did. First, however, we each had half a PB&J sandwich and a small glass of milk. When Diane left, I made popcorn and ate the entire bag. That’s OK because she doesn’t eat popcorn. I’m no in trouble.

She took a shower and didn’t want to come down to the deli with me to check “things”, so she sent me off all by myself, hoping I will be able to find my way back to the room. We’ll see how that works out.

Mazatlan – Day 2

It’s a good day to be vertical and breathing. The nasty humidity from yesterday afternoon is gone for the moment, but that could be because we’re lounging in the adult pool, our favorite place. This is what it looks like from where I’m sitting on the top step.

Diane is sitting on another area around the corner from me reading a book on her iPad. Very relaxing.

Last night, Diane was watching a Spanish weather report and learned that tropical storm Manual is in the vicinity and supposedly heading our direction. Looking around, I don’t see even one cloud in the sky, so it doesn’t look promising for anything bad to happen any time soon. But, it’s only 1050 in the morning and there’s a lot daylight remaining. Just a light breeze ruffling the palm trees and rippling the water a little.

The pool water is about 2 degrees lower than my body heat and feels awesome. Diane’s floating around now and said that this is the best part about being here – we have the pool to ourselves so we can pretend it’s in our back yard. Best part for me is that someone else maintains it. I don’t like that part. It actually sucks, like a large vacuum cleaner.

We’re going to lolly gag here in the pool until 1330 when we will attend our free lunch with a high pressure saleswo/man. That wasn’t a mistake there. I just decided that my abbreviation for “woman or man” is “wo/man”. Saves time. Anyway, lunch is free, a good thing, and it will be great. And, we’ve learned, over the years, to not be swayed by the continuous pressure applied by the salesperson.

Diane was really bummed this morning because she couldn’t find the cereal she bought for the trip. It was a bundle of those little packages of individual servings. I was sure I replaced it in the food suitcase when I rearranged everything, but must have left it laying on Jeran’s bed. Either that, or the TSA agent in Portland took it when he inspected the case. We know he inspected it because he left a note. Really, he did. I know it was a “he” because a woman would never have done that to a person. Take their cereal? That just isn’t right. So, we are cerealess for the duration of the stay. This morning we had yogurt, coffee, and toast. The coffee and grinder made it through customs just fine. Did I already mention that?

Time for a break. I’m going to go floating, now.

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

OK. Done floating, had lunch, then went for a massage. Both of us. At the same time, but in different rooms. Naked. Diane’s massager was Claudia, mine was Lydia. I just had a deep tissue on my upper back and neck. When she pushed across in the area of my shoulder blades I’m sure it must have felt like rocks to her. Sure did to me. And it hurt. A lot. But I barely whimpered, and let her work on them. Tomorrow I’m sure I’ll have bruises, but that’s OK.

Now we’re just hanging out in our room because we’re both pretty mellowed-out from activity. We’re sitting in our living room, with all the windows, and the front door open, so the ocean breeze is blowing right through the place. Very peaceful. Everyone will have to come with us next year. You’ll need a passport.

Did I mention they have pink flamingos hanging out here? The do. They don’t do much. Just stand around and look pretty. They were much more fun as croquet mallets in “Alice in Wonderland”.

Now we have an incredibly huge decision to make because it’s getting on toward supper time for us. Yes, we ate lunch only 4.5 hours ago, but it was just a cheeseburger and fries. It was good, but not as good as a Burgerville Tillamook Cheeseburger. No sir! Those are the absolute best when it comes to cheeseburgers.

Last night on the news, shortly before we went to bed, the government was on the verge of shutting down so we quit watching. Since we’ve neither seen nor heard any news today, we do not know what happened. Could be we might just have to stay here a while until they government gets opened back up. Perhaps one of you will let us know if the borders are open later in the week. Say, Saturday.

Supper is over and, based on the cost of room service for our cheeseburger lunch ($17.80 including tax), I decided to put some arbitrary prices on the dinner we had …
2 Handmade sandwiches created from imported tuna, mayo, relish, and onion powder – $47.50
2 Large glasses of milk from an unaware Spanish speaking cow – $6.00
2 Imported fruit cups (pear for Diane, peach for me) – $8.50
4 Imported Rice Krispy Treats – $8.00
2 Cups of coffee made from imported coffee beans, ground to powder on an imported coffee grinder – $5.00

Using my old high school math, that comes to about $75.00 for both meals. Actually, it works out exactly to $75.00, as I’m sure you already know. Considering that buying the all inclusive option for this resort ($76/day per person for the 7 day stay, but you only have to pay for 5 of the seven because two of them are arrival/departure days which works out to about $55/day/person) we made the correct choice. For us.

However … the all inclusive includes all drinks, too, so for those who enjoying embibing to excess, it’s a deal maker for them. Neither Diane nor I are known for our drinking prowess, so doing that just didn’t make sense. We drink water, mainly, and we obtain it from our imported Britta filter pitcher, which was filled with all manner of cosmetics in the food suitcase. Water at the resort is reportedly filtered, and I’ve experienced no problem from past visits, but why take a chance, right?

I broke down, while Diane was whipping up those incredibly expensive sandwiches, and turned on the TV to watch CNN so I could find out how the government is doing. Looks to me like it’s going down the drain. I mean, 800,000 federal workers furloughed BUT the idiots who caused the problem continue to get paid? That’s fair, don’t you think? I believe it’s 800,000. The number just kinda flashed by on the screen, but I’m sure it’s a big number. After listening to both sides plead their case, it all turned to white noise for me, and annoyed Diane to distraction. So, I turned it off and we sat by the open windows and enjoyed another incredible sunset while we ate an expensive dinner. We read our books while eating, stealing random glances out the windows as the scene changed, and the sun finally made it’s swan dive into the ocean.

It’s now almost 2000. In a bit, we’re heading down to capture a little of the free wi-fi at the Deli and get this sent off to the ozone. I’ll even try to add pictures, too.

Hope you all had a wonderful day.

This was from yesterday, looking over the infinity pool …

20131001-183847.jpg

This is a picture of the adult pool looking from out 3rd floor window …

20131001-201022.jpg

This is my foot relaxing in the adult pool this afternoon …

20131001-201249.jpg

This is me watching Diane relax in a deck chair by the kids wading pool …

20131001-201418.jpg

This is me relaxing on the sofa in our room …

20131001-201525.jpg

This is the sunset we watched tonight from our room …

20131001-201627.jpg

Church, Lunch, and Packing

Greetings! So it begins … our next to last trip to Mexico. It may be our last one but I’m leaving a little hedge room in case we decide to go again at some point in the future.

Today was just a whirlwind of activity after church service and and after-church snacks. I had a red velvet cupcake, one cup of coffee two large grapes, two crackers that looked like little squashed shredded wheat things, and two small pieces of cheese. It was an adequate amount of sustenance to hold me until Diane could figure out what to feed me for lunch. She asked what I wanted, but I couldn’t think of anything quickly enough so she said she’d “wing it.” I thought that might turn out to be something that used to have feathers, but it was a grilled ham and cheese sandwich which she toasted on the griddler. Although there were no chips, it was still good.

After lunch I completed a ton of paperwork for another shot at refinancing our home while Diane took her Mom, Jean, shopping. I also tried to set up my do-everything printer so I could fax the documents, but it failed to cooperate sufficiently so I stuff it all in an envelope an left a note on it with the proper address. Then I texted Jeff and Jennifer requesting that one of them please mail it for us tomorrow. Jeff responded saying he’d do it.

The dogs saw the suitcases yesterday and knew something was up, so when we started packing them today it wasn’t a big surprise for them. They were upset, sure, because they know exactly what suitcases are for. They’re used to periodically remove all manner of clothing from the house, then take them to the car and disappear for a week or two leaving them to fend for themselves between the times Jeff or Jennie get there to make sure they both have food. It really throws them off their schedule because there’s no one there for them to wake up in the morning to get their pouch food. They have to wait for someone to show up. It’s only a week and they will have visitors every day, just not at night. They are there all alone so have been given authority to dismember anyone who walks through the door, or window, without a prior introduction from a family member. It the intruder is a man, Panzee is trained to grab a let, then Ozzie jumps up and grabs the cahones, and Breezie goes for the eye balls. Once attached, they all pull different directions and hold it until they can’t stand the screaming any longer. Now, if it was a girl, we’d have to retrain the to attack different parts. I’m not really sure how it would work.Panzee’s job is secure with the leg as is Breezie with the eyes, but little Ozzie will have to do some rethinking since thee might not be any cahones in the normal spot. Maybe just a pair of lips He could, I suppose, get his teen all gnarled up in some pubic hair. That would have to feel bad, man or women. We’ll just go with the premise that all bad people are men and women are there to cuddle them.

Once the dogs and cat understood their respective roles, in any situation, we departed the house, headed for Grams for another goodbye stop and a little visit. We didn’t stay long because by now it was getting dark, going on toward 7 pm. It as my understanding that we had to be at the airport for a 0530 flight so when we checked in I set a wakeup call for 0330 so we could catch the 0400 shuttle to the airport. Then, when Diane looked at our schedule again, said our flight wasn’t until 0640 meaning we didn’t have to get up until 0430 for the 0500 shuttle. We gained an extra hour in bed which Diane will probably hate because I didn’t pring my CPAP up to the room so I’ll be snoring all night long. I don’t mind because I can’t hear myself snore.

For supper we each had two bananas and a cup of hot tea.

Part of our delay in grtting out of town was packing the bag we’re going to check. Its full of food, like a loaf of bread, jar of mayo, cans of tuna, coffee beans, a coffee grinder, creamer for me,cereal, juice and a bunch of other pretty amazing stuff.

My pills are kicking in so I gotta stop and get to sleep. 0430 comes a lot earlier than it used to. Sweet dreams.

Golf, Chivalry, Family, and Ducks

I’ll pick this up where I left of with the last entry, around 0845. That’s the time Diane made it known that she was sure I was going to be late for my 0940 T time with Jimbo. I knew better, of course, but I wasn’t about to tell her that. I just said, “Yes, dear,” and kissed her ‘bye. Her plan was to stay home and paint the hall, something she really enjoys … paint the hall.

I arrived with time to spare, and before Jim. Doug was also invited, and was prepared to play with us next Tuesday, but the day was changed due to the forecast of inclement weather on that day. But, he already had plans with his son today, so couldn’t go. That’s OK because there be other times.

Once Jim was there we got lined up for our T time, and were paired with a couple of young men, Mike and Scott. Jim went off first with a suitable drive, and I followed with a towering hit, all of 3 feet off the ground, and about 15 feet passed the end of the cliff that defines the 1st T box. So, it wasn’t a total bust because it rolled to the bottom of the hill, giving me the possibility of a decent 2nd shot.

Now, I’m not going to bore you with a play-by-play for the entire 18 holes because that would be totally boring. What I will tell you about it, however, is that today I learned that young people see me as old, potentially a bit feeble, and that most of them are really nice. Specifically, I’m speaking of Mike and Scott.

Scott went off the 1st T with a 3 iron, I think, not a driver, and he smacked it a long ways out there. Then Mike got up and gave us a preview of what we would see from him for the next 17 holes, except for the short holes. He drove the ball 300 yards, easy, bending it around the dog leg right like a pro. His short game was just as good. It was pretty amazing to watch both of them do what they do. They were having more fun than people are normally allowed.

Neither Jim nor I attempted to compare our games to theirs, but we did match them on a few hits. Jim more than me, but all of us had some pretty incredible putts. We even made some pretty incredible drives off the T, so all in all it was a good day of golf. On the front nine Jim and I were neck and neck, but he pulled away on the back nine. I ultimately won, however, because I got to hit the ball 118 times but Jim only hit it 96 times. We have no idea what Mike and Scott did, and don’t even think they were keeping score. It was one hole at a time for them and they bet on every one of them. The loser had to chug a beer. Yes, they got loud, but they were very considerate the entire time. It was obvious they were just letting off steam from a week of work.

On the back nine it became clear to me that Scott was looking after me, and was going out of his way to make sure I didn’t, say, fall in a ditch, or a creek. He was there to help dig my errant balls out of the brush and other places they landed where it was impossible to hit them. His actions reaffirmed my faith in young people and makes me think it would be OK for me to let them help when they wish. It’s just not something I’m used to because I’ve always been the one to do that. Both Jim and I are crowding 70, however, so maybe it’s OK to back off a little and accept help when offered. So, lesson learned.

Here we are having just too much fun for words … also, I win for most number of chins …

IMG_0626

Here’s Jim looking like a pro …

IMG_0620

… and here he is contemplating his T shot down to that green that’s right behind the big tree.

IMG_0621

He hit it over the tree and got a par. I hit it the right direction and it came down right smack in the middle of the big tree and I got something like an 8. No, a 6.

Shortly after I got home, Jack called to see if we were home. He wasn’t sure if we were still at the beach, or not so was checking. He wanted to come visit, which he and Wy are always welcome to do. He knows that, of course. He just didn’t want to make a trip and find out we weren’t home.

While waiting for them to arrive, I took all the base boards off the walls in the hall to make it easier for Diane to paint. I will, of course, help with the painting – I’m the “cut in” guy, using a brush around door frames and around the area where the wall meets the ceiling. For some odd reason, that’s something I can do pretty well. Me, who can’t normally get a screw driver into a screw slot without using two hands. Go figure …

I also watched the last quarter of the Ducks vs. Tennessee football game which ended 59-14, Oregon. They had 59 last week, also, their lowest score so far this season. It’s all early scoring, too, because the last half of their games are played by the 2nd and 3rd string. Pretty amazing. Fun to watch, too, with their fast forward playing style. They are #2 in the nation behind Alabama. We look forward to seeing how it all works out.

Now, for some Good/Bad news. While Jack and Wynette were here, Kathie R called to say hers and Mike’s October trip was going to be delayed until March. That’s the bad news. The good news is that Kathie is getting a brand, spanking new elbow which is going to terminate her constant pain. Though we were looking forward to seeing them in October, it will still be good to see them in March. She’ll have an awesome scar to share with us then. Incidentally, Kathie’s new elbow is from San Francisco and she and Mike have to go there to get it for her. Seems to me that Mike could just go get it and bring it back to Sacramento to have it installed. Seems like something that could be done in pretty much any    out-patient clinic. Maybe even a good horse doctor could do it. Might be cheaper, too, except I doubt insurance would cover it. Well, maybe it would, with Obamacare.

Now, the day is done. It’s half time for the Oregon St. vs. Utah game and I think I’ll go take a shower.

Before doing that, however, here’s a picture of the bagel I almost lost this morning …

IMG_0626

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.

DSC_0186

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 …

DSC_7249

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 …

DSC_7251

1 – 2 – 3 – Safe!

Before I get carried away with this, as I sometimes do, let me apologize for my fragrant fingers. I just applied some Avon Foot Works Deep moisture Cream to the palms of both feet to fend off dryness which has a tendency to attack exposed body parts without warning. Actually, I have plenty of warning but forget to do anything about it, normally, until time for bed. Then I don’t want to apply it because it makes my feet stick to the sheets and I don’t like that. So, I cream my feet during the day, mainly because Diane insists. Not because they are odoriferous, but because they are dry.

First thing this morning, around 0630, I attempted to place my open yogurt container, from which I had yet to partake, upon the table by my assigned end of the couch. It was dark so most of you may think that setting the container in such a manner that when released would tumble freely to the floor. It was particularly distressing because it was Peach, one of my favorites. It landed big side down which, for some yogurt containers would be a good thing, but not for Tillamook yogurt. Their big end is the one used to dip out the great tasting interior of the container. There was a small pile of yogurt next to the upside down container meaning the remainder had to still be inside.

So, I had a dilemma.

Do I make an honest effort and try to contain the spilled remnants inside the container as I tipped it over? Do I flip it fast, or flip is slow? Or, just pick it up like nothing is wrong?

I chose the latter and was pleased when I discovered that at least half of the container was full. The other half remained on the floor in two fairly evenly sized piles. I wasn’t sure if this constituted a new dilemma or was still part of the first one, but it was a dilemma, all the same.

The piles that escaped were sitting placidly on the hard wood floor, missing the carpet by mere inches. I didn’t see any visual evidence of dog or cat hair in the vicinity, so briefly considered just scooping it up and putting it back into the container and calling it good. Instead, I retrieved my spoon from the end table and, since I was already on my knees, just bent of a little and scooped spoons full directly into my mouth.

I did this for two reasons – 1) I chose to not take a chance of contaminating the yogurt that remained in the container, and 2) Diane wasn’t there to tell me it was a bad idea. I already knew it was probably a bad idea, but I’ve eaten food from the floor in the past, and I believe I’m better for it. More on that later, if I remember.

When scooping up the remains, I was very careful to not touch the spoon all the way down to the floor. Doing that would have pulled up all manner of things like 409, Simple Green, wax, and old varnish. Perhaps a pet hair or two, also. That didn’t happen. I got pure yogurt and I got most of it.

Once I’d had my share of the floor yogurt, I called Ozzie over to see if he liked Peach yogurt. He did for a short time, but quickly gave it up so Panzee could finish up. Panzee likes any kind of yogurt. She’s my official yogurt container cleaner, getting the remnants my spoon can’t. When she was finished with the floor, she stared intently at me, waiting for the container to finish the job. I ate slowly, causing her great concern, but she kept her cool, and didn’t issue any threats that would cause me to hasten the process.

Then I took my morning nap, waking at Diane’s command around 0800, alerting me that we had to leave for church in an hour.

An hour! I still had a good 30 minutes of sleep time to go, so I took it, arising precisely at 0830.

We left at 0900, picked up Diane’s Mom, Jean, and arrived at church about 0910. It’s a quick trip.

During the service, I was the designated communion assistant. Yeah, I know. That’s a little out of character for me, but I did it quite frequently and most people don’t seem to mind. My job is to handle the wine with decorum and appropriately bestow the blessing of  “Christ’s blood, shed for you.” I do that for each parishioner who choses to accept communion. Today we had communion via “intinction” so all I had to do was hold the cup as everyone dipped their wafer into the wine. It’s a simple task.

When everyone was done, we returned to the altar to replace unused wafers and the wine when the 2nd casualty of the day transpired. I bumped the wafer tray while sitting the goblet down and slopped wine all over the altar. I also soaked a few wafers. To help save me from ridicule, pastor moved toward me to cover the mishap as we sopped it up with the napkins placed there for just that purpose. Thankfully, this has happened so many times in the past, that a thick plastic cover was placed over the paraments to protect them.  So, it wasn’t the catastrophe that it could have been.

After the service, like every other Sunday, we went to the basement for coffee and treats. It’s called “Coffee Hour”, but sometimes it lasts 2-3 hours so that’s not a descriptive name for this event. But, it’s tradition, so I’ll just go with that.

Things went well for the first 10 minutes or so, while I was talking with Ron. Then, without any warning, what so ever, I found it necessary to make a gesture to punctuate a statement and made it half way through before disaster struck. Standing at the table, the gesture issued away from my body successfully, but on the return to the resting position, a little bit of just one finger found the edge of Ron’s coffee cup, spilling the contents toward me in a rush of liquid. I managed to jump back, like it was a normal movement, and calmly stood there assessing the damage as Ron rushed to get a rag to staunch the flow. I had one little splash mark just below the knee of my left pant leg which I could easily hide from Diane. Thankfully, Ron chose to put creamer in his coffee today, so it was essentially the same color as my khaki pants. No one else received damage from this. I attribute this to my foresight to spill it toward me, not away from me. Even then, I think the large doily in the center of the table would have sucked the coffee up quickly. We may never know.

From church we went to Burger King, for a nutritious lunch, then to Fred Meyer so Diane and Mom could shop for food while I stayed on guard in the vehicle. They were only gone about an hour before returning with two loaded carts which I would have helped with but my seat belt was still hooked up. I even sat there and watched 86-year-old Jean push the carts back to the store. A bit of grief was bestowed upon me for that discretion. It wasn’t bad because those present recognized that it was not my nature to avoid opportunities like that. I’m the guy who always opens car doors, any doors, for the ladies in my presence. A lost art, I know, but an example I insist on displaying not matter where we are. Diane is so used to this that, when leaving the house, she goes into the garage and stands beside her car, knowing I’m right behind her to open the door. There’s just the two of us, but the gesture has even more meaning then than when done in public. It’s not done for show, but as a sign of respect. Looking back on this, I should have freed myself from my seat and done the right thing, but I didn’t. Now I must live with this flaw on my previously almost unflawed behavior. Drat!

The coffee spilling incident was #3 for the day so I figured I was pretty safe for foreseeable future. So far, that’s been true, but there is a long way to go until bedtime. Lots of stuff could happen in the next 5-6 hours. I’m pretty confident I’ll be safe until tomorrow.

Something I forgot to mention yesterday, with regard to the failed fuel pump, is that I discovered an absolutely brand new one in one of the little storage compartments on the RV. There’s even a new starter, in case the current one fails. Since there was already a new fuel pump, it’s normal to presume that the previous owner anticipated this failure. Tomorrow I’m going to install it and see what happens. I might even add some brake fluid to the master cylinder to solve that issue.

Later …