Category Archives: Food

Tour Hillsboro For Less Than $400

Posted on by

How’s the new elbow, KC?

Are your hands getting along, yet, or is it too early to tell?

Diane took me to my dermatologist today to visit the rash on my back. I know, that’s personal but I had to share that since KC hasn’t objected (yet) to my mention of her faulty elbow. Knowing this, now, you may be happy to learn that my dermatologist burned 13 holes in my face and at least that many in my back. She uses a little spray can of liquid nitrogen to burn those holes, and they hurt, in case you don’t know. Thankfully, there isn’t any skin left on my ears so she didn’t have to burn any holes there. Ears hurt the worst.

So, now, I have 20-30 more spots on my body that will never tan. If this keeps going, it’s going to be like freckles in reverse. Sometimes I think they should just dip me in liquid nitrogen, let thaw a bit, then send me home.

I’ll include a photo of the damage as soon as KC comes up with a photo of the guy she got her new elbow from.

After visiting the doc, at 1030, we went to Tom & Linda’s to deliver some Avon stuff, and to visit with Tom for a bit. They only live a few blocks from where the appointment was. Unfortunately, for us, Tom picked that day to have some blood work down so we missed him. We did get to visit with Kyle a bit, however, so all was not lost. Turns out we missed Tom by a whisker as we left and he returned. There will be another day.

IHOP got our attention for breakfast so we stopped and had some. Our morning yogurt was long gone. We both had the Senior 2+2+2 which was very good. Then we headed for Costco.

I think we went to get paper plates, napkins, and little cups for the church. When done, however, it cost us over $300 to exit the store. The large part of that was getting ink for our printers. One of us isn’t too frugal when it comes to printing ‘stuff’. I won’t say which one because I don’t want to get into trouble. Again.

From Costco we went to the Washington County Habitat For Humanity Restore Store, or the WCHFHRS, for short. We were looking for either a window, or a piece of plexiglas to fill the hole left by the storm window that suspiciously fell out of the right side of the living room window when Diane opened it a few years ago. Those things just can hold up to a 15 foot fall to the ground. Thinking it would no longer be needed, I compounded the problem by tossing the frame, into which a new piece of glass could have easily been inserted, into the metal bin at the dump. Smooth, huh?

The reason that’s important now is because of our new chairs, the ones we bought because company was coming over. Remember those? Well, Diane likes them so much that she’s moved from the old recliner couch to one of those chairs, and it’s right next to the window with the missing part. It’s drafty and cold and now needs to be fixed. As long as she was sitting by the wall, it was perfectly OK. I envision a visit to ACE tomorrow to rectify this.

We went from WCHFHRS to one of the many Goodwill stores, Diane’s favorite place to shop, that dot the greater Portland area. The one she chose is located just up the block from a BMW dealership. I sat in the vehicle and read my John Grisham book, “The Racketeer”, for a couple of hours while she cruised the isles. About 1640 I went in the store to cruise a bit myself but discovered that we were due at our next location at 1700, not 1730 as I previously believed. Diane was heading for the check out line so it turns out I showed up just in the nick of time to cart all her treasures to the vehicle. She was pleased.

Rick and Jody were next on the agenda. We had a plan to meet them at BJ’s Brewpub and Pizzararium in Hillsboro where three of us had hamburgers, and one didn’t. This was another visit to deliver Avon products, and to just visit prior to going home.

By the time we arrived, the dogs had been without us for 10 hours. In dog hours that’s about three days. Jennifer, bless her, agreed to visit the dogs this afternoon to assure them they hadn’t been abandoned, but I failed to ask her to turn on a light for them. So, when we got home, they were in a pitch black house, except for all the pretty blue and green lights on the front of all the electronic equipment scattered around the place. So, it’s really not pitch black – its pitch black blue and green.

They were fine and didn’t even get up until I opened the door for them. Normally Ozzie is yapping away as soon as the big garage door starts up, and doesn’t quit until he’s well into the yard, relieving himself. It’s funny to watch him bark and pee at the same time. I’ve tried that and it isn’t easy.

Now we’re home and we missed choir practice tonight. It was the first one, too. As expected, I got into trouble for that because I actually knew about it. Yesterday.

Church, Pigs, and Heritage

Posted on by

I didn’t do anything today except go to church. It surprised a lot of people. It’s good we went because Pastor’s birthday was November 1st, All Saints Day, so we got cake. We were actually late for the service because we stopped at Safeway on the way and got the cake. It had raspberry jam in the middle. Very good.

After church, we brought Diane’s Mom, Jean, home with us, just like a normal Sunday. It’s a good day to spend with family. Diane whipped up a terrific lunch of broccoli, carrots (for her), mashed potatoes, applesauce, and pieces of dead pig. We have no idea how long the pig has been dead because the pieces were frozen together so well that she had to use our portable jaws of life to pry them apart so she could fry them. They did, I will add, look a lot like pork chops. Tasted like them, too.

Diane also baked a terrific cherry crunch pie, our favorite from Marie Callender’s. It’s frozen, like the pig parts, and will last pretty much forever. We don’t have them often, but as soon as it’s baked, she buys another one just to have it ready for the next time we decide to have one. Marie also makes a pretty good lemon meringue.

I’m curious about that last word, meringue. I honestly don’t know how something spelled like that can be pronounced like mə-rang, or meˈʁɛ̃ɡ, depending on your nationality. I guess that falls in the category with why me, and most people I know, call Washington Worshington. In know, it’s a pretty minor difference, but I’ve discovered that some Worshingtonians take exception to my pronunciation of their favorite state. Funny how things like that come creeping out of the woodwork, like all the sudden naming conventions for some sports teams are totally unacceptable.

Take the Worshington Redskins, for example. Since that’s a double whammy from me, I wonder if it is, in fact, technically correct, kinda like a double negative. You know, like saying, “I ain’t no idiot!” or, more grammatically correct, “I am not no idiot!”

In my humble opinion, I think the ACLU need for everyone to be politically correct in all things is getting out of hand. The Redskins? Really? I heard one Native American on the news say that referring to her as a Redskin was the same as using the “N” word for an African-American. All my life the Redskins were a football team. I don’t believe I actually connected the name to ‘real’ Native Americans until someone complained about it.

Here’s another one that kinda frosts me … African-American. Native American, I get. They were here first, I think, and Columbus thought he’d landed in India. So, those he me when he got off the boat really aren’t Indians. If he had known where he was, he would have called them New Worldians. But African-Americans, to me, is an odd naming convention. If we are going to begin adding our nationality to what we are as Americans, I must be a European American. That’s because I only know what half my heritage is. There could possibly be some African in there somewhere that would make me, say, an Afro-Euro American. Then there’s gotta be Canadian-American, South American-American, Russian-American, Australian-American, Japanese-American, Chinese-American, and oh ya, Indian-American. Love that last one.

Actually, using the African-American naming convention, all of us have only one of seven choices for picking our nationality, based on where we were born.

  • Africans
  • Antarcticans
  • Asians
  • Australians
  • Europeans
  • North Americans
  • South Americans

If you find it necessary to qualify your continent, based on heritage, then I guess I’m a European-North American. But, most forms ask us about Nationality, not Heritage.

I’m getting used the name changes, slowly, and honestly do not have a problem with most of the hoopla surrounding it. It just seems, to me, that too much effort is being devoted to making it all a big deal. I’ve, personally, got more important things to worry about. If you’re offended, I’m sorry, and you have permission to call me absolutely anything you want. If you do that, don’t expect a reaction from me if your intent is to offend me, it’s a wasted effort. I’m a honky, whitey, haole, whatever. It’s not going to affect me or how I act. Honest. I’ll still do dumb things and might even reinforce whatever pet name with which you wish to anoint me.

Wow! I have no idea where that soap box came from?

OK – I understand why people, all of them, have a tribal need, if you will, to identify with their heritage. That’s fine. I think I’ll start putting down Oregonian-North American on forms that ask for race. One of my brothers is Nebraskan-North American, and another is Wyomingan-North American. I’m the only one in my family who married a woman of the same race as me. Diane is also an Oregonian-North American.

This is just getting stupid and I cannot find a safe way to extract myself from this topic other than to just quit. I regret going down that rabbit hole, and mean no offense to rabbits by using that term.

And, I apologize to all the pigs, cows, chickens, and turkeys of the world because at some point in my life I will consume some of you and/or your offspring. I really don’t think you care about it, but there it is.

I must quit.

Doctors, Showers, Bunco, and Sunsets

Posted on by

Monday, my most favorite day of the week … it was a bright sunny one, too, making it even better. And, it was cold. But I wore shorts anyway.

This morning I had a doctor appointment, here in town, just because I haven’t seen a local doctor for almost a year and there is a Oregon law that requires all citizens to do that, or else! So, even though I’ve been adequately cared for by the VA for all that time, I must adhere to Oregon Law or else move to Canada. It’s a rule. Another reason I had to see my local doctor is because she prescribes me meds the VA can’t. That’s actually a better reason than obeying the fictitious Oregon law.

The appointment was at 11:20 am so I had a couple of hours to kill after waking up from my nap. Knowing I’d have to wash my entire body before going to the doctor, I just left my jammies on and got to work on an inside project. This morning that was adding the moulding around the opening between the kitchen and dining areas which has been mould-less for 8 years. I’ve had the wood in the basement all this time, but it just never got to be all that important until this morning. That’s because the Bunco Babes were descending on our home and Diane was ready for them to see that I actually did things around here. At least once in a while. So, I did it. I actually cut the trim yesterday, but had to make an adjustment to the width of the opening , making it an inch narrower, so I wouldn’t have to rip the pieces that go on either side of the external wall part. I know. That doesn’t make a lot of sense, but that’s the way it is. The trim is 2.5 inches wide, and the area, on the outside wall, was only 1.75 inches wide. In order for me to avoid ripping off an inch of the trim, allowing for a 1/4 inch reveal, I decided to add an inch to the surface area around which the trim would be placed. That made it 2.75 inches, just enough for my 1/4 inch reveal. Clear as radar, right? Me too. I took a lot of thinking for me to get it all straight in my head, and to get the pieces all cut with a decent mitre so they wouldn’t look too bad from a distance. The mitres are near the ceiling so accuracy isn’t as crucial as it normally would be. Like, if it was closer to eye level, like a cabinet or something.

After getting that partially done I ran to my bathroom and got myself all wet and shiny, added some soap, bubbled up, and scrubbed my underwear really good. We have a new rule in the house, for me, that all showers will be conducted while wearing underwear in order to cut down on the amount of laundry Diane has to do. It works OK, but I can never get all the soap out of them and they dry a little bit stiff, making them more than a little uncomfortable after wearing them for a few hours. So, I’ve adopted a commando attitude and decided to not wear underwear unless directed to do so. When doing so, I also wear outerwear that do not have zippers. I’ve never discussed it before, but there have been zipper injuries in my past. They are absolutely brutal for the victim, and just hysterical for whoever draws the short straw and has to undo the zipper because the victim can’t. Simply stated, it’s a very agonizing way to perform a circumcision, even for those who have already had one. Enough said …

When the shower was done, I rushed out of the house and down the hill to the doctor’s office. I arrived at 11:15 am, as directed, got checked in, then sat in the waiting room, reading my book, for the next hour and 15 minutes. The lady sitting across from me, with the cast, had an 11:25 appointment. Finally, an attendant appeared and called my name. I jumped up and followed her to the scale, got weighed, then went to the designated room. The first question they asked was if I was still using albuterol. Since I’ve never used albuterol, in any form, I said, “no.”

This caused a bit if concern for the medical assistant, one of which was in either in training, or was doing an internship, so they asked for my birthday. I gave it, then they figured out that I was the wrong Jerold. It was the other Jerold they wanted. So, back to the waiting room I went, for another 10 minutes.

Then a different sort of medical gal called my name and, knowing I was the only Jerold in the waiting room, I acknowledged and followed her to the scale where I was weighed and measured. I’ve compressed 2 complete inches since 1975. I’m only 5’9″ now. Might have to start hanging by my knees from the tree out front, I guess.

When the weights and measure were satisfied, I was taken to a different room where my blood pressure was taken and I was told it was a bit high. I was asked a lot of personal questions, which I answered truthfully, then I was left alone for another 15-20 minutes before the doctor appeared.

She entered the room with Molly, a scribe, and didn’t look at me until I stood and offered her my hand. Even at a lowly 5’9″ I was taller by far.

The doctor sat down at the wall-mounted computer, and Molly came equipped with a big Dell laptop, and a chair. Together, they began entering all my personal data, as well as most of the data contained in my paper chart, which they just happened to have, even though just last week I was told I was not listed as one of their patients. That’s the reason I had the appointment, so I could clear that up, and get a scrip refilled. In all, I was in the room with the doctor, and Molly, for about 30-45 minutes. That’s about the longest I’ve ever been in the same room with a doctor for an appointment. Usually, they ask a couple of questions, then let one of their minions finish up. The exception is the nazi doctor at the VA who gave me my last nerve conduction test using large hypodermic needle with wires attached to his oscilloscope. He enjoyed his work a bit too much, I believe. I’m sure I heard him take a deep breath, and shudder, as he stabbed me with one of those needles.

I have a rash on my back, which the doctor checked. I obtained it in Mexico, I think, from little tiny ants that frequented the chaise lounges by the pool in which we spent most of our time. Now I learn that it’s possibly shingles, for which I had my shot after we got back from Mexico. So, I’m in flux, wondering what my lab test for varicella zoster IGG, IGM will reveal.

Upon returning from the doctor I was met by an angry grandma who wanted to know what took me so long at the doctor. Then she ran off to get Jeran from school because he was sick. When she returned she was still mad at me, even though I finished putting up the trim. Now all it needs is paint. Lots of paint.

After finishing my project, we shared a can of chicken noodle soup, then I took off for my board meeting with our Lions Club. For some reason I’m 1st or 2nd Vice President. I’m still a little mystified as to how that happened because I don’t remember campaigning. I was probably voted into that spot during one of the many meetings I’ve missed. That’s usually when stuff like that happens, when you miss a meeting, or three.

The meeting was over in 40 minutes. When I returned home the only place I could park was in the front yard. There were cars everywhere. Apparently the Bunco Babes don’t car pool often. When I entered the house, early, I made sure to get everyone’s attention and proclaimed loudly that, “the party’s over! Everyone out!” It got quiet for about 3 seconds, then everyone went back to what they were doing. They always do that. There are 12 ladies and they do this once a month so Diane only has to do it once a year, since they rotate that responsibility. They all know the routine, but still they give me their attention when I proclaim … the only difference is that the time between getting their attention and them ignoring me gets shorter each time. Next year they will probably ignore me totally. I’m used to that, however, and will proclaim anyway. While they are rolling their noisy dice and ringing their bell.

I must admit, that they have a lot of fun. It’s good for Diane to have this social diversion, and it’s a good way to get rid of all the wine we don’t like, or that has been sitting around open for too long. We start them off with the good stuff, then infiltrate it with the bad about half way through the game. Works like a charm. I think they do that in bars, too.

Lydia was sitting at Diane’s computer working on her homework when I got home, so I sat in the Man Room to keep her on track. That, and I wasn’t allowed anywhere else in the house BUT the Man Room. So, it worked out. Lydia needed a little computer help, too, which I’m always more than happy to provide. Sometimes I provide it even when people don’t want it. Tonight, it was needed. Lydia had to write an essay and create a PowerPoint presentation to go with it. Since she had never used PowerPoint, it was a bit of a challenge. Luckily, I’m a semi-expert with software people don’t understand and was able to boost her in the right direction. Though she stumbled, and griped about how boring it was then entire time, she was extremely proud of the results. So, mission accomplished.

Now the din has ceased because everyone left except Diane. She’s almost done cleaning up, and I’m done with this.

So, it’s bed time.

First, however, I must share last night’s sunset view.

DSC_8027

This is mainly to show Jewel that we get to see some of the pretty ones before she does from her perch on slopes of Mauna Loa which is, according to Wikipedia, the largest volcano on Earth. Nifty. Makes me want to move there. Really, it does. Though it’s the biggest, it’s lava is silica-poor making it very fluid which is a more appropriate way to say this volcano has the runs. It’s making the island bigger all the time and it’s amazing to see. While we lived in Hawaii, in the 80’s, we were always getting news of houses being consumed by flowing lava running down the mountain side. The slope is gentle so everyone has plenty of time to get out of the way, When we visited the island we were able to walk on the newly cooled lava and see the remains of cars and homes that it had captured on its journey to the sea. It’s worth a look.

Here’s what that very same sunset looks like by the time it gets to Jewel …

DSCN1575

Panzee Speaks, kinda …

Posted on by

Just when everyone thought things were going along just fine, Jerrie woke up.

Three days had passed and he had no memory of what had transpired so I’ve decided to help explain. He doesn’t know I’m doing this. If he did he’d have a conniption fit because he doesn’t like anyone using his precious electronical equipment. He puts passwords on everything thinking we, who spend hours and hours all alone in the house, with nothing else to do, can’t possibly figure that kind of stuff. C’mon! What are we going to do when we’re locked up in the house with nothing else to do? Sleep? Pee on the rugs? Chew on furniture? Sure, we’ve done all of that, but after a while it’s just no turn any more so we started fiddling with his computers and we discovered a whole new world.

So what’s been happening with Jerrie and Diane? We have absolutely no idea beyond what we witnessed. As the spokesanimal for the group, I’ll do my best to get things accurate and in chronological order.

There were some familiar people at the house on Friday evening that would account for the flurry of activity on Thursday. That’s when Jerrie went out to his car, the old Subaru, and extracted his fancy cutoff saw from the back-end of it.  It was kind of freaky and reminded me of the time I watched one of my friends have puppies, only puppies don’t have sharp edges and pointy things. He pulled that thing into the garage, and I went and hid when he plugged it in. It doesn’t scare me … I want that understood up front. I just don’t like loud noises. Honest. Thankfully, he closed the door into the house so I didn’t have to listen to the incessant whine of the saw motor. I know that’s what it is because he’s used that thing before, and it drives me nuts.

Before he fired that thing, up, he left the house fora period of time around noonish. I later learned that he went to some storage facility to help liberate a truck load of newspapers which he, and his friends, delivered to the Lions Club newspaper collection container which is located at the St, Helens High School. I know, that’s a lot of detail coming from a dog that has a limited understanding of the language spoken by most of the people with which I’m familiar. A lot of what I figure out is strictly conjecture because lots of the speech I hear is a little like white noise so I think what I really do is read minds. Really! I do.

Shortly after he returned home, disturbing me from a perfectly wonderful nap, the master of the house arrived and made him eat lunch. I’ve almost given up on begging for food any more because he rarely gives me anything … little teeny bits of things I can barely taste they are so small. What a waste of time.

Anyway, they ate, something, didn’t give me any, then he went to the garage and ignited the noisy saw. He quit about 4 pm or so and they left to go watch Lydia play soccer. I’ve tried to tell them that I think it would be really fun to go watch Lydia play a soccer game, but the words just won’t come to me, and they can’t read minds like I do. I stayed home and took a nice long nap.

It appeared that what he was doing was take small pieces of wood that he called baseboards, cut them, then try to put them back together so they looked like they belonged where he put them along the floor. He didn’t nail any of them down so I suspect he’s not done fiddling with them. After doing a little investigative investigation, listening to him talk with his female associate, I learned that they were expecting company at some point on Friday. That turned out to be true, incidentally, but that’s coming up in a minute.

I slept the rest of the day so don’t know what happened the rest of the day until I was allowed to exit the house into the back yard and search for a new spot to relieve myself. It’s kind of humiliating, you know, o have to crap and pee in public. But, one can get used to pretty much anything. Especially if you’re a dog. Like me. After doing my ‘thing’, I comeback in the house, trying to avoid the annoying little black dog who spins in circles like a little maniac in anticipation of the bed time treats we always get. I just sit calmly on the floor, waiting to perform my stupid dog tricks for a little pittance of a treat. But, he seems to enjoy it, so I humor him.

On Friday, they both left the house, a couple of times. The first time they came back the master was a little sad, so he told her he just wasn’t going to spend $100 on a couple of used, stained chairs. He then told her that if she wanted chairs, get new ones. It was really funny because she grabbed her purse and keys and almost ran to the car telling him to hurry up. Apparently they went to Richardson’s, right here in town, who sells furniture made in Indiana (so I’m told), and bought two new chairs to fill the void created when the perfectly good couch they had was carted away, along with the dining room table, a couple of weeks ago. I know is was Richardson’s because later that day they delivered the chairs and I heard one of the delivery guys say that name. When they got here, I barked, like I’m supposed to, then I licked their hands because they seemed to be pretty nice.

The chairs look OK, if you like chairs. The master really likes them, a lot, and said the red color actually does look OK with the carpet in the living room. I won’t be sitting in them so I really didn’t care. I took a nap.

About 3 pm, as close as I can tell, two folks I’ve met before showed up at the door. I looked out the Man Room window and saw that they arrived in a funny looking van that they use to travel all over the United States. The master, and he, were very happy to see them. I believe they were Jerry and Nelda Somethingorother. I’m not big on last names. Sorry.

All of them either sat around the table while the master worked in the kitchen, making something for the pot luck that was happened later that afternoon. It’s my understanding that the pot luck was attended by members of a Classic Winnebago Club that included Les, Sophie, Cliff, Susie, Terry, Carolann, Jim, and Kim. I heard someone say they were all staying at the Elks Club off 6th Street, just a hop and a skip away. With Jerry and Nelda, master, and him, there were 12 people. I don’t know what happened because I was forced to go down to the creepy basement with the annoying little black dog. They think I’m OK with that, but I’m not. I spent the entire time crouched on the top step, just the other side of the door, listening to all the fun they were having. The food smelled really, really good. I didn’t even have water, and my food bowl was just about 5 tantalizing feet from where I was crouched.

Finally everyone left and I was released and allowed to go out front to tell everyone ‘bye’. Then we all went to bed.

Saturday morning I woke him up at 0700, I think, because I was hankering for a touch of canned food which I get as soon as I come back in the house from my morning trip to the yard. Then I took a nap. I barely got to sleep before I heard Jerry and Nelda again. Interesting. I guess they slept in the driveway, which I thought was a little odd until I learned that they actually slept in their van, in the driveway. Big difference.

They sat around drinking coffee, talking, laughing, like I wasn’t even there. Nothing fell on the floor right away, but I feigned interest for longer than necessary before going in to the Man Room to take a nap. Sleeping wasn’t in the cards for me, however, because of all the racket they all made. Then, wouldn’t you know it, all the people from the night before showed up again. All the food had been removed from the refrigerators and reheated as necessary, in anticipation of their arrival, but no one told me. Then I was sent to the basement again. It’s getting to be quite a routine, me going to the basement. The cat, however, gets to go outside and run all over the neighborhood, without supervision! Is that fair?! I think not!

There were gaps in activity the remainder of the day. J&N left, then the master and he left, and they didn’t come back for hours. Really! Hours! Thankfully, they left the patio door open so we could go out and bark at something once in a while, but that’s a long time to be left alone. When they returned they told us all about the fun they had down town on the St. Helens Haunted Tour. Sounded fun. They even went out for dinner after that, extending the night even more than necessary. Then they went to the Elk’s Club to sit and visit in Les and Sophie’s new 1989 Winnebago Superchief. Apparently it’s quite a rig. Really big and nice, we were told. Plenty of room for a dog, or two.

When they got home they went to bed after allowing me into the yard one last time.

Today had a normal beginning, then something changed because only the master left. Since it’s Sunday, I suspected they would both leave for church, but that didn’t happen. She left early and took Jennifer, one of my favorite people, shopping for her birthday. I guess Grandma Jean, another one of my favorite people, went too. That left him home alone with pretty strict instructions to leave the power tools alone. So, he went outside, grabbed a ladder, and used it all the way around the house to reach areas that needs to have paint scraped. I was proud of him because he didn’t go on the roof, and he didn’t get the tall ladder to reach the really high spots. He knows I can dial 911, and bark, but doing that just doesn’t interest me much. I could have gone outside with him, if I wanted to, but I didn’t. Instead, I stayed in the house and took a nap.

In the afternoon, about 1:30, he left to go pick up another couple of my favorite people, Cedric and Jeran, and took them to the movie down town. I smelled popcorn on him when he got home. I love popcorn. Cedric was with him. Not long after they got home, the master arrived. Jennifer showed up a couple of hours later to get Cedric. Lydia, another one of my favorite people, was with Jennifer. She scratched my ear. I love that. Then they left and I took a nap.

Now it’s time for bed and I need to go outside and prepare myself for the series of tricks I make him do before he gives me my treat.

Soccer, Subway, and Shivering

Posted on by

Yes, it’s sunny and bright where we live which is a bit uncommon, but it’s OK. As soon as the sun hides behind something the temperature drops about 40 degrees. It get pretty chilly.

To emphasize that, we went to Lydia’s last home soccer match with Sherwood and I had to put my fuzzy sweatshirt on about half way through the second half. I was still shading my little eyeballs from the sun, but being bright isn’t enough to keep me warm right now. We need to be a little closer to the sun. Then, after the JV game, we decided to stick around for the Varsity game and see how they did. Since there was almost an hour before the game started, at 7 pm, we went to Subway and got sandwiches because Lydia was hungry and thirsty. Instead of eating, however, she talked the entire time. I don’t know how she can think of so many things to say for such a long time. It’s amazing.

Diane and I finished our sandwiches while Lydia was talking then we had to go back to the stadium for the game. Lydia wrapped up what remained of her sandwich, refilled her giant sweet tea-cup, and away we went. Thankfully, we got a parking place right up front even though the high school parking lot was covered wall in cars. The Sherwood freshman football team was lined up along the fence where we parked so Lydia got out of the car and slipped gracefully into her sweat pants. Sherwood’s football team, incidentally, lost to St. Helens 32-0. The JV soccer team lost 6-0.

Once back in the stadium we found a spot on the aluminum bleachers. Let me tell you, those aluminum bleachers do not retain heat, at all. They do, however, retain cold quite nicely. My posterior froze to the seat and I had to fart six times in order to warm things up enough to extracate myself. Normally, a couple will do.

Actually, I don’t need to fart in order to stand up, no matter what I’m sitting on. It’s just that when bending forward in order to rise, my innards compress and there really isn’t any choice about where the gas is going to go. Certainly not up. I’ve learned that it’s never a good idea to suppress a fart because doing so makes it change directions, eventually transforming it into a burp that tastes like crap. I’m guessing about the taste, by the way, because I really don’t know what crap tastes like.

The Varsity girls played really hard but ended the first half down 1-0. Being severely cold, we called it quits and headed over to Jeff & Heather’s to pay up for Gilligan’s Fun Run. On the plus side of that visit, we got to see Tiana, Gilligan, and Jerrie Anne. It was past 8:30 pm, or so, and shouldn’t have been up. Lydia was delighted because she loves those girls. I think she was seriously considering waking up Baylee, too. But, she didn’t.

From there, we took Lydia home then took ourselves home, too. The dogs were delighted to see us, like normal. They bark a lot in greeting, then Panzee stops, but Ozzie walks out the garage, past Diane, barking the entire way as he trots out to the front yard to pee on his favorite plant. He’s been trying to kill it for years, but it isn’t working.

Now it’s late, and I have ‘stuff’ to do early in the morning, so I’m quitting. Turns out we’re going to have to scrap and paint the exterior of the house in order to secure a VA loan refinance on the house. The VA doesn’t like chipped paint as much as we do. So, that’s a new project, about which we talked all throughout the warm, sunny summer, but didn’t do. We’re motivated, however, because the refi is going to save us about $800 a month.

Yeah!

Cows, Cats, and Chorus

Posted on by

Yesterday Brett & Conrad installed a new patio door on our upper deck. You may or may not know them, but that isn’t relevant. They took out the old, single pane, aluminum clad door, that was installed incorrectly in 1957, and summarily tossed into the back of their truck so they could haul it away. I know it was installed incorrectly because the slider portion of the door was on the outside leaving the screen grooves on the inside of the frame. Odd. Now it’s correct. We didn’t have a screen before, now we do. And, the door hardly makes a sound when you open it. The old one rattled along the rail sounding like a wobbly wheel on the worst shopping cart you’ve ever used. Any where.

One of the benefits of having a noisy door was that Breezie always knew when we were looking for her, and that it was time to come in. Perhaps she understands that the new door isn’t going to be her signal that it’s time for lights out because she’s been staying in the house, sleeping for endless hours, going out only for brief moments throughout the day. Diane thinks she’s growing, but she looks just the same to me.

Someone asked me the other day what kind of cat she is so I told them she’s a Holstein cat. What do you think?

5753824-relaxing-holstein-cow-in-austrian-meadow   DSC_4405

You can hardly tell them apart … but, the difference becomes extremely evident when you try to milk them. It’s not a good idea to try milking a cat. They object with vigor and leave marks.

Last night we went a chorus concert at the high school to hear Jeran sing. This is a yearly event that includes choral groups from the High School and Middle School. It was standing room only because all the singers took up the first six rows in the auditorium. That would be about 200 kids, in all. Many groups, and they all sang 3 songs each. It was all very enjoyable. When Jeran’s group took the stage, he was located dead center, middle row. Easy to find. He did very well and I think I could actually hear his voice once in a while. It’s hard to pick one voice out of a crowd, as you all may know, but some how you can always pick out a member of your family. Weird how that works, isn’t it? Kind of like how Emperor Penguin mom’s can pick out their babies after even though they’ve never seen them before. You know how they work … talk an extremely long walk, lay an egg, then go on vacation while dad protects the egg from the extreme weather. She returns just in time to save dad’s life, then forces everyone to hike back to the spot she just vacated. Very odd.

Afer the recital, we all trekked to Burgerville for Ice cream. That was Jeran’s request. Jennie’s treat. Jeran and I had a hot fudge sundaes, Diane had a smoothie, Jennie had a caramel sundae, and Cedric had an ice cream cone with extra ice cream. It was all good. Cedric’s cone was small, but the ice cream was stacked about a foot tall. Quite amazing.

Lydia wasn’t there because she went to Sandy, out towards Hood River, to play soccer. It was a barebones team because many of them were participating in the choral event, and Lydia was the goalie. We received periodic reports of the action and learned she did very well. It was 3-0 St. Helens at half time, but they lost 4-3 when it was all said and done. Lydia said she stopped about 20 shots and really got a work out. One event caused problems because she had both hands around the ball and a girl kicked her hand, almost kicking her in the face and no penalty was assessed. So, she played injured the second half, and got very tired. But, she loved it, as we thought she would.

Now, it’s almost 10 am and I must get to work. I only have 2 days left to get all the wood trim back in place before company arrives.

Wish me luck …

“Monsters University”

Posted on by

c567be6f72e2cf084b958f99f3d0dcbb796c36cc

Because of this movie, I may never, ever, eat popcorn again.

It was another free entry day for us old people, but I pitched in for the snacks, which is only fair. Once again, we wound up down close to the front, where Debbie Reynolds sat, with Jennifer and me sitting in front of Jeran, Diane, Lydia, and Chris. I chose to move down a row because the seat I was assigned in the row with Diane was apparently broken. I know this is true because I sat in it and it automatically reclined because the rocking springs were not working correctly. Consequently, I wound up in the lap of the young man behind me, who took it well, although I know I crushed his knees quite nicely. He was very kind to refrain from pounding me into the ground, which he easily could have. I would have understood. So, there are still some well-mannered young folks out there. More who are than not, actually. Sad that the minority side of any issue seems to get all the recognition.

Jennifer got in the snack line, where all the money is made at movie theaters, as soon as she got in the door. I just gave her all my money and went to my seat, after making the changes noted above. Lydia went back to help with all of it. It’s quite a deal, actually, because you can get a HUGE tub of popcorn, and two HUGE drinks for $10-$11 and all of them are refillable. That’s the reason I may never eat popcorn again. Since I sat with Jennifer, we had a tub all to ourselves, being adults and all, so I just picked at it all through the movie, as did Jennifer. Turns out that I’m a quicker picker than Jennifer which caused me to eat almost all of our assigned tub, all by myself. Plus, I drank most of the Coke she brought for me. I should have specified 7-UP which may have avoided my current situation – that being on the verge of barfing up an entire tub of Coke flavored popcorn. I’m holding it off pretty well, but it’s not a done deal that I’m beyond it, yet. I can only hope that I chewed it up enough that, if it does come back for a visit, it doesn’t scratch my throat, or get stuck in the back of my nose. The latter is the worst part because ‘snuffing’ out of my nose always makes me sick to my stomach. In a different way.

The movie? It was great, as we knew it would be. Not only was the animation awesome, it had a great story line which, if kids follow it, would do away with all bias based on personal appearance. I may have actually learned something from Mike and Sully.

I give this movie 16 stars, based on a 17.5 star system, where 17.5 is the best. Go easy on the popcorn, or sit with someone who is allergic to it and just don’t buy any.

Homecoming and Other Stuff

Posted on by

Just so you know, there are people in the north-east who still talk to me. Once in a while. That’s not relevant to this entry. It’s just something I was compelled to share.

Today I sanded about 1700 board feet of moulding of various kinds, then applied two coats of clear polyurethane finish. The reason it was 1700 feet is because I did it twice. Not because I did it wrong the first time, but once to make it pretty, and the second time between coats of finish. It wasn’t 1700 feet, either. More like 100 feet. It just felt like 1700. And, I didn’t put a finish coat on all of it. Just the trim around the three door ways in the entry hall. Things are looking good because I’m ahead of the imposed timeline for completing this project.

Diane worked on the hutch, in the garage, half the day, then painted the front porch a nice, pleasing light gray. It’s cement, so gray is the perfect color. It was red when we moved in six years ago, but it turned gray shortly thereafter. Useless information, I know.

The hutch is something we’ve had for a long time and it was getting a little bit beat up from some sort of furniture abuse. We’re not sure if it’s something that other pieces of furniture can catch, or not, but Diane has the solution. The hutch is maple and I just happened to have an un-used can of maple stain which Diane meticulously applied to the entire structure. She also removed all the brass hard wear and placed them in a solution of vinegar, baking soda, and something else, and a piece of aluminum foil. It’s a holistic metal cleaner that really works great.

The porch got painted while the stain was drying. By the end of the day, Diane was tuckered out to the point where she settled for a hot bath in lieu of a soak in our broken hot tub to which she only made a passing reference. After she headed for the tub, I went to the garage and applied a coat of paste wax to the hutch and made it really shiny. Mae my arm’s tired, but it was a surprise for Diane so that’s OK.

My arm, the right one, is a mess. It’s that way because I keep forgetting that it’s a mess and move it the wrong way which makes the mess worse. It works just fine for anything that needs to be done below my waist, but if it’s higher than that, it’s useless. To overcome that restriction I have a method that involves using my left arm to relocate my right arm to a position above the point where I can’t move it by itself, then it’s perfectly fine. It’s weird, I know, but it works. I bet there are some of you out there who know exactly what I mean.

At this very moment in time I’m watching unranked University of Central Florida play even with #8 unbeaten Louisville. Right now it’s 31-28, UCF. It’s the first time Louisville has been behind in a game this season. Gotta love the underdog, unless they are playing against the Ducks. Or another Pac-12 team.

We talked with Linda tonight and discovered that things are going well for both her and Tom. We made a date for lunch at BJ’s which is located on the corner of Cornelius Pass Road and Cornell Road. I think. It’s a new one. The time to meet is 11:30 am next Monday. Everyone is invited. If you get there first, get a big table.

Tonight is Homecoming for both Scappoose and St. Helens High Schools so both towns are whooping it up at their respective stadiums. Jack and Wynette are at the Scappoose game, and Cedric & Lydia are at the St. Helens game. Diane and I are home because we forgot it was homecoming day. It’s cold out there, anyway, and we’ll get the scores tomorrow. Still, it would have been fun to watch in person.  Maybe next year. It’s also good to be warm. Lydia got all dressed up for the dance, after the game, purple nose and all.

That’s it.

Church, Lunch, and a Movie

Posted on by

Today we went to church, had a so-so lunch, and went to a movie. The dogs weren’t happy that we were gone for so long, but they forgave us anyway – maybe because it’s Sunday, but more probably because dogs forgive everyone almost immediately once you pet them and let them go outside. It’s just the way they are. Too bad people aren’t that way, too, don’t you think?

This morning Diane, Diane’s Mom, Jean, and I were forced to sit in the front row at church because Larry and Shirley sat in our seats. It was so … so … un-Lutheran of them. I mean, they usually either sit behind us, or a couple of rows back. This morning, however, they arrived before us and decided to move into our space. The nerve of them. Both Larry and Shirley were ahead of us in High School so I guess they were just exerting their superior position, although they’ve never done so in the past. Perhaps they were punishing us for being a little bit late. That could be it, too. So, we moved to the front, where Mabel, Nancy, Kim, Kevin, and Lisa usually sit, but they weren’t there today, so it was OK.

While listening to the sermon I got to thinking, something I don’t usually do in church. Usually, I just listen to the sermon, try to figure out how the ‘Message’ pertains to me, or how I can make myself a better person by making it pertain to me. Then, there’s the music. Old hymns that have historical meaning, written by people hundreds of years ago, that actually tell a story. Our pastor, Rory, is a wealth of knowledge regarding hymns, and regularly gives us background on the person who wrote a hymn he’s about to help us sing. Without failure, the story is compelling and filled with vivid evidence of spirituality, and the author’s un-questioning belief in God, even in the face of incredible adversity. True believers, all. They humble us.

After church I talked with Pastor and we both be-moaned the current lack of attendance by the most current generations at our tiny little church. He was saddened that he couldn’t generate more interest in spreading the Word of God to the countless scads of reportedly “un-churched” people, while I was more along the line that we could generate more interest and subsequently reap the benefit of increased offerings, allowing us to pay our bills without fear. Two different takes on a common problem.

Pastor’s ‘take’ was far more pastoral than mine, as one would expect. I did, however, have this thought about why we don’t see the younger crowd.

It’s about the music. We have the old classic hymns, we don’t have a band, and we don’t have microphones hanging from the rafters, or standing at rigid intervals across the stage. No, we have a pianist (Barb), an organist (Jeannie), and a raised area where we kneel around he altar for communion, every other Sunday, with wine and bread. The other Sunday’s we have communion by intinction, where we receive wafers which we dip into the wine as we file past Pastor. It’s fairly traditional.

We’ve been to the New Age services over the years and heard the powerful messages given by very charismatic speakers accompanied by their bands, and band of singers. The music is pleasant, but has never really struck a chord with either Diane or me. Now religious groups are growing exponentially, and it’s moved into the rap realm, something I’ve just never enjoyed. Rap, that is. I can appreciate the effort, and the      subject matter of their music, but I just don’t get “reference” from it.

That could be simply because I do not understand what they’re saying almost 100% of the time. The frequencies are all wrong for me, and the tempo, and the volume. I’m more attuned to the old stuff. Things I know.

So, I know, that makes me old fashion to the Nth degree, and that’s OK. I get it. Things change and, dare I say, evolve over time. So it goes with music and lots of other stuff including the style of churches, and their services.

I apologize if any of that upset any of you. It’s a free world, after all, mostly, so you are free to syntactically retaliate to your heart’s desire.

That’s not a dare, by the way.

It’s just a fact.

So, fire at will …

About lunch – we went to Zhen’s on Columbia Blvd here in town. For the three of us, we got a #3 and a #4, which was about six times as much food as we really needed. So, we packed up a bunch of it which will be enough for two more meals each.

Then we went to the Columbia Theater to watch “Turbo”. It’s the first movie Jean’s been to in a few years, so it was special for her. More special was that it was free, and, since we had just eaten lunch, we didn’t feel compelled to eat a mess of popcorn. That’s usually what I do in the theater and I always regret it. But I always do it, until today. It was good to just sit there and not be distracted by all that crunching noise, and greasy fingers that I always tell myself to NOT wipe on my pants but somehow always do because I forget. Without the popcorn I got to see the entire movie, without interruption.

We went with Jennie, Jeran, Cedric, Lydia, and Chris, Lydia’s friend. Actually, we went because of them. The Columbia Theater has a special deal where parents can buy kid’s tickets for 8 consecutive matinée movies for $8, which is an incredible deal. Additionally, each kid can bring an adult, so all us of us old folks got in for free. Pretty nifty, huh?

Another plus, since we were some of the last people to enter the theater, is that we got to sit almost right up front, very close to the seats Debbie Reynolds sat in when she was in town filming “Halloween Town”, many years ago. Maybe that should be many, many, years ago.

As I stated early on, the dogs were really happy to see us after our six-hour absence. I’m sure they thought we had gone to Mexico again, and were surprised when we returned so soon. Since our return, we’ve not done much but sit and vegetate, watching some of the shows that were recorded while we were gone. We’ll catch up, soon, then we’re going to turn in our old DVR, that can only record two shows at a time, and get the one that records 4 shows at a time, while you watch a 5th. That’s going to be something. We both think it’s very important that consumers should be able to records about six times as many TV shows than we can possibly watch unless we stay glued to our TV all the time. Kind of like we do now, but more so.

Ya know?

Family and Food

Posted on by

Today we took another trip to Portland. That makes 4 times this week that we had to go to the Greater Portland Area, or GPA, if you will.

Today we went to Nonna Emilia’s Italian restaurant on Shaw Street in Aloha. For those of you with Hawaii on your mind, this Aloha is pronounced a-low-ah. So, it should be spelled Aloah, don’t you think?

The purpose of the visit was to see Julie, Duncan, and Jake during a lull in their whirlwind visit to see all of the colleges in the greater Pacific Northwest to see which one is right for Jake. He’s a senior this year, in Phoenix, AZ. AZ is an abbreviation for Arizona, in case you needed to know that.

About the abbreviations for states. I disagree with their methods used by whoever it was that determined what they should be. The choices aren’t consistent with the names. Like AZ, for instance. I think all the abbreviations should just be the first and next to last letters of the name. That would make Arizona AN, Alaska AK, Arkansas AA, Alabama AM, Oregon OO, California CI, Washington WO, etc., ad infinitum, forever. States with two names, like North Dakota will different, like NDT, and SDT, North Carolina NCN, and SCN. Florida would be FI, Tennessee TE, Connecticut CU. Get it? It’s consistent.

 Just a thought.

Here’s the group that met up today …

IMG_0010

Left to right it’s, Jean, Terri, Jennifer, Jeran, Diane, Daniel, Bill, Carolyn, Julie, Jerrie, Jake, Duncan, Lydia, Jean.

Didn’t think about it at the time, but we have Jean’s holding us together.

Did I mention the food was good? I sat next to Jake who had dead chicken Marsala, which came with a side of spaghetti that he didn’t want. I offered him $1.50 for it, he accepted, and I ate it. It worked out great because I had spaghetti for my main meal and my plate was already covered with sauce so the waitress didn’t know I had seconds. Jake’s side dish was just about as big as my main dish, so I ate twice. I will not be hungry for a couple of days, now. And, I owe Jake a buck and a half, unless Diane paid him, because I didn’t. My wallet was empty, as it has been for the past two weeks. Diane doesn’t let me carry money because I tend to spend it and don’t remember what I bought.