It’s very interesting what those two words evoke in people. Two simple words, used every day in one context or another, that stir memories of an event on a specific date in time. What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you hear them spoken?

For me, it’s an early morning getting ready for work. The TV was on, and the “breaking news” was video of the North Tower burning, people jumping from windows as fire consumed the upper floors. Standing there in awe, and sadness, disbelieving, we watched the South Tower explode, compounding the chaos, then it cascaded to the ground. It was like watching a planned demolition, the way it simply dropped to the ground in it’s own footprint. This time, however, there were thousands of people inside.

In a daze, I made my way to work where I joined a room full of co-workers in a conference room to watch the ongoing news about the attack … then the North tower collapsed, joining the remnants of the South tower, creating a huge void in the New York skyline.

Then, when it seemed things were calming down, came news of a plane hitting the Pentagon in Washington, DC, and another plane crashing into the ground in Pennsylvania.

In all, 2,976 people died that day at the hands of 19 terrorists. Indeed, they scared us because of the cowardly manner in which they chose to express themselves. They also awakened the withering patriotism of the United States. Instead of striking fear of them into our hearts these acts united us more strongly, giving 9/11 new meaning.

If anyone you know doesn’t understand the meaning of nine eleven, please explain it to them. They need to know. We can’t forget this.

Wow! It’s been three entire days since I sat down with this blog. I must have been really busy, you’d think. Either that, or I was napping a lot. No, I was actually busy, installing the new faucet for Diane’s bathtub.

Speaking of napping … my good friend, Doug, had the audacity to call me at 0930 this morning, rousing me from my blissful after breakfast nap (ABN) and immediately started asking questions that required me to actually think before responding. I was taken totally off guard and had to scrape the sleep from my eyes to get rid of those annoying little crusty things that appear every night. And after my ABN. And after I allow my eyes to remain closed for longer than 30 seconds. All that “stuff” just appears out of nowhere.

Back to “really busy” … to get the faucet installed required that I dismantle (destroy) a closet wall, and part of the ceiling in Diane’s Girl Room (DGR). The reason for doing so was to gain access to the pipes and fixture so I could remove them and replace them. The old fixture was tossed (on my shop floor – OMSM), as were the pipes. The fixture was, of course, replaced with a new one that had an outlet for a shower, which the old one didn’t have. To install it required that I remove (destroy) one 4″ tile where the shower control had to go, and kinda saw off a bunch of the 2 x 4 stud that was inconveniently placed in the exact position required by the vertical shaft for the shower head. Complicated, I know. But I dealt with it. The pipes were replaced with PEX tubing and Shark connectors. The connectors are awesome because the tubing simply slides right into the connector. No wrenches needed. It was so much fun that I’ve decided that my next project will be to replace all the old galvanized pipes in the house with plastic tubing. I already have the tubing.

During my absence I also nursed Diane back to health after she had all her teeth removed. She was miserable, laying on the couch with ice all over her face, with a dazed far away look from the spare narcotics she found in the bathroom. OK, that’s only partially true. She had one molar removed and the narcotics were in the bathroom because they were prescribed and that’s where she left them. She’s getting better and is once again able to feed me which is the reason I agreed to marry her in 1968. She’s kept me alive and healthy for the last 44 years and I appreciate her more and more every day. I didn’t have to say that … I said it because it’s true. I appreciate her even when she’s mad at me for doing dumb things.

Speaking of dumb things … as I was sitting down to rest, while Diane was making lunch, she called for assistance because she couldn’t find the package of shredded cheddar cheese she had removed from the refrigerator to use in the tuna casserole she was making. After a frantic search of all the refrigerator compartments, she finally found it … in the utensil drawer next to the stove. Having participated in this memorable event, I’m more comfortable with some of the odd things I’m accused of doing. I have to add that Diane wasn’t feeling all that great when this transpired, but I’m just saying … y’know?

Today was a banner day for me because I actually finished a project. Having gained an inordinate amount of confidence from installing Diane’s new bathtub faucet, I re-installed the laundry sink. In the laundry room. Next to the washing machine. Diane was thrilled. I was thrilled because she was thrilled. We were both thrilled all because of a simple laundry deep sink. Until recently it was a rusty mess. Now it isn’t, and it’s no longer between the washer and dryer so Diane doesn’t have to walk those 2 extra feet from one to the other.

OK. That’s about it, except Diane has been working on a plan for our next trip to the East Coast in October. This time we’re going to try staying only at military facilities and see how that works. She’s wearing me out. No doubt there will be more on this in the near future.

G’nite …

After being forced to sit on the couch for two days, to allow my foot to regain it’s former shape, I’ve had time to review my previous blogs which were considered, by a vast minority, to be “wife bashing”, and have come to the conclusion that it’s just not true.

Reviewing was the difficult part because I never edit anything before submitting it. It just seems wrong to do that as it smacks of composition, and we all know that’s the stuff you put around vegetables to make them grow better.  I found many of the entries quite enlightening and I had to relearn some things that I thought I had permanently purged from my fluffy brain. Now I’ll have to address that at some point in the near future so pardon me if I get a little repetitive.

Another problem was trying to understand and follow my thought process as it wandered around in some of the more stupid entries. Diane doesn’t like me to use “stupid”, but I don’t know a better word to describe some of the stuff I read. Those blogs had to have been added by someone who has my super secret password, or I was in a trance which means I cannot be held responsible for my actions for either of those events.

Moving on … now, the wife bashing aspect of my earlier entries mystify me. All I was doing was relating how it is to be me. Perhaps I embellished a bit which, by law, I’m allowed to do … it says so in one of the amendments to our constitution. I’m sure that’s true, but I don’t remember the number. Does anyone know if you need to know the number of an amendment to invoke it? I might have to look that up or, perhaps, just write a new one.

I keep getting off topic here, and I apologize. You may wonder why I do that. So do I.

When I explain that I’m not allowed to use power tools when I’m home alone it’s because when Diane leaves the house she tells me, specifically, “don’t use power tools!” So, if by repeating that as a visual treat for all who read this, it’s deemed to be wife bashing, then I suggest that by giving me those instructions in the first place it’s husband abuse because I’m being told to “not” do something which I kinda like to do.

And, when I relate that I have to get permission to do certain things, it’s true because when I exercise free will and do something wrong, which I inevitably do, I’m told “you should have asked first.” Most of the time I remember to do that. Now. Sometimes I regress and forget. Actually, lots of times I regress and forget. No, I forget because it’s far easier to ask than it is to remember.

That last bit is important because Diane and I will have a conversation in the morning and in the afternoon, or a few minutes later, I’ll ask her a question about it because I want to know the answer. She uses these opportunities as a training evolution to help me remember what we were talking about by saying, “I just told you a while ago” which, in her mind, serves as the answer to my question. So, I’m left with a comment to my question, but no answer. Since it’s important that I know the answer, I push forward, explaining that if I knew the answer I wouldn’t have to ask the question, but she pushes back with “think about it for a minute.” Most of the time I’ve already done that which brought me to the need to ask the question.

After a round or two of this I actually figure out the answer myself so, perhaps her method works. Most of the time it doesn’t, however, and it leads us to the brink me calling a lawyer to initiate divorce proceedings. She just laughs at that because she knows I’ll never do that because she has all the answers. All I want is a few of them. Not a lot. Just a few answers, once in a while.

Also, most of the questions I ask can be answered with a “yes” or a “no”. I never get that. Instead, the response is a conversation where she tries to lead me to the correct answer while the entire time I’m waiting for a “yes” or “no” to pop up, but it never does. Consequently, while concentrating on the one word answer I seek I’m placed in the unenviable position of having to ask her to repeat her answer because, although I heard all the words, it passed all my filters as if I was trying to read random words in a dictionary … individually I knew what they mean, but the meaning of the combination in which they are used totally escapes me. I attribute this to the fact that once I finish my question, I’m waiting for the short answer and when it doesn’t show up in the first six words, I’m lost because now I’m that far behind in whatever is being said to me. I never catch up to the meaning.

It’s a sad thing to have to live with and you’d think I’d figure it out, wouldn’t you? I’d think so, too, but so far that hasn’t worked out well. Oddly, this affliction only presents itself while talking with Diane which I believe is because I’m more comfortable with her and trust her to be paying attention when other people are talking, or when she’s talking with me. When I’m talking with other people I must be paying more attention because I don’t have to ask them many questions about our conversations and it’s usually with other men who give the proper one word response to which I’m conditioned.

I know there’s a stark difference between the way men and women perceive things, and I’ve sincerely tried to get into my feminine persona at times, but that doesn’t work out well when we have to leave the house. In St. Helens it’s NOT OK for men to wear Reno 911 short shorts to ACE, or NAPA to get car parts. Other men frown and tend to reach for their side arms which, thankfully, aren’t allowed in ACE or NAPA. I’ve only done that once, by mistake. Now Diane checks to see what I’m wearing whenever she’s home and I have to leave for any reason … even to go to the driveway.

For those of you who made it this far, I want you to envision a fairly long break right here because I had to stop and leave with Diane to take her Mom, Jean, to lunch. That’s what we do on Sunday … we take Jean to lunch. Today we went to Sizzler in Longview, Washington. That’s directly across the Columbia River from Rainier, Oregon, which is about 13 miles west on Highway 30, which is confusing because when looking at a map Rainier is directly north of St. Helens. How does that work? Hmmm.

Anyway, we had a wonderful lunch. I was going to get all you can eat shrimp but reconsidered since I was just getting over gout and it’s been scientifically proven that all you can eat shrimp is a major gout causer. So, I had the all you can eat salad bar which includes fried chicken, my second favorite food int he world. I ate a lot of it. Jean was concerned that I’d start clucking like a chicken so, of course, I did. It sounded like this … Brock bock bock b-gock! Maybe not. I guess you had to be there.

Now for the good news … my left big toe is almost normal and the right hip is responding well to the pain killer the doctor gave me for my toe. Life is good. Now I’m quitting.

I went golfing this morning with my good friend Doug. If you follow this blog, you met him in at least one past entry. Also, if you follow this blog, I’ll be forever amazed because I typically do not share anything of consequence. I deem that following this blog is a total waste of your valuable time. Still, some insist on doing this, so I feel compelled to make it worth their while, at least in some small way. Since I never know what’s going to errupt from my fluttering fingers, it’s difficult to aim them at a topic that the millions of people, who read this, find interesting. Ok, make that 12 people, not millions. I exagerate a little. It’s my fingers just going wild and wishing it were true.

So, for you 12 people, thanks for at least looking. I appreciate it.

Golfing was fun, as it always is. Doug and I enjoy spending a few hours, about once a week, hitting a ball, then wandering off to find it. Once in a while we actually do really well, but Doug always does better. I didn’t understand why until recently. Thinking it was a simple matter of him being better than me, I never questioned his score when I wrote it down. He always has me keep score, and drive the cart. So, when he asks me what I got on a hole, he simply subtracts a couple of strokes when he tells me his. I never get his score first. But now the cat is out of the bag … today I counted every swing he took … and he still beat me. The only reason I can think of why that happened is because by keeping track of his swings, I lost track of mine and had to rely on him for my score. So, I’m just going to quit counting and enjoy the company of a friend as we wander around the golf course on a sunny day. Life is good.

Now, for some BIG news … Diane let me buy a new laptop. It’s a 13.3 MacBookPro. This is interesting for me because I’ve “made do” with retired laptops for years with little or no problems to speak of. By retired, I mean those discarded by my previous employer for a nominal monitary stipend. Cheap, actually, so it’s been good. Friends and family have benefitted as well, and I’ve been kept busy saving them from certain doom by removing viruses, and malware. For one who may be interested in IT job security, MicroSoft is the way to go. I did that for 20+ years and really loved working with Windows products. Once I retired from that, however, I decided to get a Mac to see what all the fuss was about. Now, I like it a lot. And, I still use Microsoft products on it. So, I’m just living in a dream world.

Now I have my 27″ iMac, an iPhone, an iPad, and a MacBook Pro. Considering the nature of Apple’s naming system, it seems to me that iPro would be more appropriate for their laptops. For me, that will be it’s name from now on. I enjoy my Apples and now have one for pretty much any occasion, and they all “talk” to each other. How can it get any better?

DD-808 … “what’s that about?” you may ask. “It’s the designation of a United States Navy Destroyer with hull number 808,” I’d say. More specifically, it’s the USS Dennis J. Buckley, my first ship. It was commissioned in 1944 and retired in 1973. I was on board 1964-1966, toward the end of it’s tenure. I won’t bore you with old sea stories about that ship, right now, but will share with you that Diane and I are coordinating a ship reunion for DD-808 this coming October. It’s going to be in San Diego, California, it’s old homeport. Other crew members have coordinated in the past, and a precedent was set for it to happen every other year. I think that’s bi-annual. At the last reunion, in Buffalo, NY, in 2010, I, for some odd reason, raised my hand when the question was posed as to who might want to do the 2012 reunion. At this point, I can only believe that I was temporarily insane when I raised that arm. Then, again, maybe it’s not so bad because it’s turning out to be the biggest reunion ever for that small ship. All the credit goes to three people who have been calling ex-crewmembers over the years, compiling a pretty comprehensive list of contacts. It will be interesting to see how everything goes in October, and you can be sure I’ll let you know.

Just one snippet of a sea story for DD-808 … when I went aboard the ship in 1964 it was in Bremerton, Washington, not far from my home in Scappoose, Oregon. Just a couple of hours away. But, it was just finishing a yard period and soon sailed for San Diego. On that first trip, off the coast of Oregon, I was on the main deck when all the sudden the ship was surrounded by about a zillion porpoises. They were absolutely everywhere. It appeared that they stretched from horizon to horizon, but I know that couldn’t be possible, unless all the porpoises in the world were having a convention, right there, right then. No other way. It was amazing to see as they jumped along side the ship, escorting us on a southerly course for an hour or so, then they were gone. I’ve never seen anything like that since.

Now I’m getting slammy-eyed, a sure indication that I need to get prone quickly before I trip over something, fall down, break a bone, have to go to the hospital, and get a cast on a significant body part on which I rely. That wouldn’t be good. No sir, it would not be good.

So, I bid you all adieu with a hearty buona notte.

For those of you who noticed my absence, and who may be interested in why, it’s because  I went “black”, or incognito for the last few days. I’ve been waiting to see if anyone noticed, and one finally did. She was concerned enough about my frail condition that she called Diane to see what was the matter. So, I’m not, as I was beginning to believe, invisible. Thinking that was true had me right on the verge of spending more time at Victoria’s Secrets, which really aren’t secrets because they advertise all over the place, and have these HUGE pictures of NNW (nearly naked women) in their store windows which they use to entice unsuspecting teenage girls into spending money on “things” to make them more appealing. “Things” that accentuate the naughty bits at which we are not allowed to gaze. Very confusing.

In an effort to alleviate the confusion, I conducted an experiment that allowed me to don a lacy pushup bra and a pair of lacy bikini panties which I wore for an entire day. I didn’t care for the bra too much, but it did cause a lot of looks from some undesireable people, at which I glared until they looked away. The panties, however, were a sporadic source of sensual satisfaction, sending shivvers of giddy goodness throughout my right leg simply by knowing that I had them on, and no one knew. Then they started riding up, causing a need to find quiet areas where I could correct the fit of the creeping cotton. After having to do this the third time within a block it became annoying, the shivver was gone. It made me understand the benefits of the thong which is just a nice pair of panties that have been force to maximum creep from which there is no recoverey … so you gotta live with it. That, and with thongs there’s the benefit of NVPL.

After it’s all said and done, It still amazes me that girls who spend all that time and money to project an other worldly sexiness find it “improper” for me to give them more than a cursory glance. C’mon! At my age it takes a little time to comprehend exactly what I’m looking at, so give me a break. If my gaze lingers too long, I’m sorry. If you don’t like it, and you’re in my vicinity on a regular basis, wear something less appealing, like one of those long dresses they wore on the farm in Nebraska in the 1800’s. You can do that, but it won’t matter because I’m going to look anyway and the reason is simple … sure, clothes expose and promote various body parts, but the source of beauty I see is a womans face … the quizzical arch of an eyebrow, dazzeling eyes, the slight upturn of a smile that reveals a devastating dimple … simple things.

Tell me why it’s considered “wrong” when I look too long at one of these bedecked beauties for “too long”, a period of time that no one can accurately specify, I’m deemed to be a dirty old man. A lecher. A pervert. It’s the wrong message for my spongy brain. I think the ACLU should specify how long I can spend looking at one individual before being required to move my gaze to another person, or thing. It distresses me that this hasn’t been done. So, I make my own rules. I only look at pretty girls as long as I want, or until my pulse increases to 78 bpm. Diane gave me a little thing that attaches to my left arm that transmits to my iPhone. There’s an app for it that sounds a klaxon-type alarm to warn me it’s time to shift my gaze to something, or someone a lot more benign. Now, Diane doesn’t mind that I look. She just doesn’t want me dropping dead on the street. Considering the way some girls dress now days, that’s always a possibility. It’s down right scary at times.

Now, back to reality.

Last Thursday, Jack and Wynette stopped by so we could play with Wy’s new iPad. A side benefit of the visit was the new things I learned. I’d share them with you but I was cautioned, from many fronts, that none of it is appropriate for this venue. So, you will all just have to remain in the dark, or think about what Jack’s capable of and let your mind roam a little. Considering that, I have no idea why I was compelled to include this little bit of news other than to let you all know that we saw Jack and Wynette.

Then we went “camping” in the RV. Here’s where we parked, in the Northern regions of the Long Beach Peninsula …

We spent three nights there visiting with Doug, JP, Carolyn, Todd, and Sue, and we had the occasion to visit with Jack and Wynette two more times for meals because they were also in the vicinity, but in a fancy schmancy hotel on the beach. We had to drive to the beach.

The Long Beach Peninsula has approximately 20 miles of hard packed sand on which common vehicles can drive from one end to the other. We drove out there on Saturday to watch the sunset with Doug and JP.

We also drove to the golf course a couple of times where I hit some of the most incredible drives of my simple life. I also made some very interesting putts. In between, it wasn’t so good, ensuring that my 36 handicap is not in danger of dropping. Diane joined us with her brand new pink Wilson clubs, in their very pink bag. I was envious because they were so shiny and clean … and she played well. We quickly learned, however, that it’s best for spouses to ride in separate golf carts while golfing because one of them is bound to get mad at the other. So, she rode with JP, and I rode with Doug. It worked well and we had fun.

Yesterday we returned home and I have two days to get the following tasks completed before we head out again. This time we’re going to Big Eddy County Park, out near Vernonia, on Highway 47.

My ToDoList:

1. Refinance the house
2. Get a bid to re-roof the house
3. Replace the brake calipers on the Subaru
4. Mow the lawns
5. Replace the points on the Old Chevy Truck so I can haul things to the dump and go get Jack’s and Wy’s pool table
6. Move the piano and organ from the garage to the basement
7. Move the pool table from Jack’s and Wy’s to our basement
8. Make sure the hot tub chemicals are good to last through the weekend
9. Get my high school class 50th Reunion book published. Wow! 50 years!

Not a long list, but all are necessary to ensure my right to continue living at this address.

Now I’m going to drink coffee. Hope everyone has a safe day.

This year St. Helens isn’t having fireworks on the 4th of July. Oh, it’s happened in the past, but rarely. Usually it’s a funding issue, lack of donations. This year, however, the City Fathers decided to defer fireworks until July 14th, to celebrate the Maritime-Heritage Festival that’s coming to town. Yes, it’s a big event, and it will bring a lot of revenue to the city, but I find it a little disconcerting that they didn’t consider the 4th important enough to expend at least a few token explosions.

Having said that, I must share a thought that Diane implanted in my brain, about all the veterans with PTSD, and how traumatizing the noisy festivities must be for them. Hopefully they will all make it safely, sanely through the explosions going off all over the place. It can’t be fun for them.

I wish you all well, and hope that you, and everyone you know, understands today is about freedom. Somehow that seems to get lost in all the noise and flashy fireworks.

So, perhaps not having a city sponsored event isn’t all that bad, especially since everyone else in town is taking care of that quite nicely.

Still … you know what I mean, right?

Bless you all.

Greetings – this will be a short ditty to alert all you softball fans that Lydia’s team won 2nd at the Oregon ASA tournament. They were the only unbeaten team going into the final game in this double elimination tournament. They lost to Lake Oswego so had to play them again. The officials decided to forego the 2nd game and just do an international overtime thing. Interesting. Anyway, the girls played very well and they were fun to watch. They had to endure a 7 hour rain delay Saturday and didn’t finish their games until after 10pm, and didn’t get home until midnight. Sunday they won their first game in an overtime sudden death situation. The team they ultimately lost to, did the same thing to the same team, so it was a good match for the finish.

I don’t know what day it is … and I’m beseiged with flashes of odd things that don’t make a lot of sense to me. Like flashing lights that contain messages of some sort which I understand is pretty much the ‘norm’ for me. Ask Diane.

Except for the lights, the last cognizant thing I remember was laying down for a nap in Newport, at the beach, while Lilly Tomlin dripped hot wax all over me. For a short time I thought it was just a fantasy until I realized that my fantasies aren’t useually painful.

The next thing I know, I’m waking up in my bed at home. Oh … Diane just told me it’s Monday, so I’ve been incognito for the three days. She said I acted perfectly normal, for me, the entire time so there was no cause for alarm on her part. I even drove the RV all the way home last Friday without mishap. She also said I was a perfect gentleman to her the entire time which should have raised some danger flags, but didn’t. Considering all that, I found it curious that I have all these little red spots all over me, like someone dripped wax on me. It confused me a great deal until I remembered my last cognitive memory then it all made sense except I don’t know Lily Tomlin. I think it was someone else.

Sometime during my ‘unaware’ state someone replaced my right eyeball with a wireless one. I discovered this when I was walking down the hall and turned too soon for the bathroom and ran into the door jam. The sudden stop caused my right eyeball to pop out and fall on the floor. Initially, it concerned me a great deal, then I realized that I could still see with my right eye as it rolled across the floor. It made me very dizzy seeing floor, ceiling, wall, floor, ceiling, wall, dust ball, cat, dog, wall, and I fell down until it stopped short under our bed. At that point, I was more than concerned a great deal … I was concerning a great deal more!

I was freantic, laying there on the floor, face down, staring at the bottom of the bed with my right eye. I wet my pants which eliminated the need to visit the bathroom, where I was going in the first place.

Once my fear subsided a little, I got a little braver and learned that I could turn off my right eye simply by closing it. How handy. Once I figured that out, I went searching, and found my eye next to the rear wheel on Diane’s side.

I retrieved it, washed the dust off of it and gave it a serious inspection. Not only was it very freeky, but I quickly got over that and became more interested in the technology. Keeping my right eye shut, I checked it out with my left eye, the one with the astigmatism, thinking I wished they’d swapped that one out too, or at least instead. I decided that I liked it.

After fiddling with it for a while, I decided to see if I could reinstall it and discovered it wasn’t all that hard except for the part where I had to open my right eyelid to put it in. I briefly wondered if I had to put some sort of lubricant on it, like WD-40, or something, but it slid right in. As soon as it was in the socket, I felt it jiggle a little, as if it was aligning, then everything was clear as crystal. It was amazing.

I can take it out and hold it up to look around corners, see the end of my elbow in person, and check out whatever’s making my back itch. That last one is awesome because I’ve always wondered about what causes it. I still don’t know, but at least now I can look at it. And, I can look up my nose, and ears. to make sure everything is nice and clean. I have to do that at home, though, because Diane gets upset when I do it in public. It causes everyone to ask too many questions. It was OK for a while because I just told them I got it at Costco in Mexico City and they aren’t shipping them to the US, yet.

It’s all pretty nifty, and gives a whole new meaning to “keeping an eye out for you,” or “rolling your eyes.” I can actually do that now, and I’m learning to control the vertigo whenever I do either of those.

That’s probably enough about the eye for now, and I’m sure you don’t believe a bit of this, which is probably a good choice. So, I won’t go into detail about the little bump I found on the side of my head, under my right sideburn, that activates a zoom feature. Near as I can tell, it’s about a 186Kx magnification which means I can see individual atoms! How cool is that?!