Category Archives: Food

911, Eye Doctor, Fultano’s, and a Laptop

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Yesterday a neighbor was at our door when we got home, looking for some help to help pick Bob Up. He falls down once in a while and they usually call 911 for help getting him vertical. I told them I’d be more than happy to give it a shot, and it worked. We popped him right back on his feet. He was sternly lectured by his wife for trying to carry his sandwich out to the porch. I guess the bees got most of what was left by the time I got there.

This afternoon Diane went to the eye doctor for one of her checkups. Her tear ducts are on the fritz, which isn’t a good thing. While she was gone, I worked with Doug on the American Legion laptop that was doing all kinds of weird things. I knew immediately what the problem was, of course, being the semi-nerd I am, and got busy on the ‘fix’. Then we went to lunch at Fultano’s in Scappoose.

On the way, I texted Jack to see if he was working so he could go if he wasn’t working. He wasn’t, so I stopped to get him on the way. So, it was the Peal brothers vs. the Cate brothers, plus two others the Peals brought for reinforcement. Jack had never been to Fultano’s before, so it was a treat for him. It was all you can eat salad bar and pizza for $7.15, including a drink. Very good stuff.

Upon returning home, I finished cleaning up the laptop and sent Doug an email that it was ready. However, Doug doesn’t check his email very often any more, but I know he reads this, so, Doug, the laptop is done.

The only other thing I did today was start the ’73 RV, just to see if it would. It fired right up. Better than the ’79 ever starts. Interesting.

Later in the evening I got in trouble, but I don’t want to talk about it. Instead, I’m going to bed.

Coffee Hour

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Today, after church, we had the traditional Lutheran Coffee Hour which is an opportunity for the Church Ladies to clean out the fridge, feeding it to unsuspecting visitors. That sounds bad, I know, but it really isn’t. The food is always exceptional because, if for no other reason, it’s a free meal.

Coffee Hour responsibilities rotate amongst the WELCA ladies, or whoever is willing to volunteer, and some of them make the occasion healthy by feeding us apple and orange slices, grapes, and cheese. It’s all good. I can make a meal of that.

The best coffee hours are those that occur shortly after a pot luck because there’s always tons of food left over explicitly for that purpose. The next best are the ones following a bake sale. Then we get pie, cake, lemon bars and brownies for lunch.

It’s just great and once, during a lucid moment while descending from a sugar high, inspired me to write a one page story. I write a lot of one page stories because by the end of the first page I’ve pretty much run out of things to write about.

So, to save wear and tear on my fingers, I’ll just cut and paste this ditty from, wow, 2001. You don’t have to read it. It is, after all, old. But, it’s pretty typical of our coffee hours. The only thing that changes is the kind of food. Today, for instance, we had left over beans, potato salad, and hot dogs. My impulse is to say ‘weenies’, not hot dogs but, as reported previously, I’ve discovered that some folks construe that word in an unacceptable way. Regardless, it was all good.

I regret I have no photos of the original, or today’s meal, but here’s one of some corn I had to eat the other day …

IMG_0597

 

Now, the story. Oddly, I named it “Coffee Hour”.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< Start >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The service was finally over then we were funneled down to the basement and placed in a position that required us to consume large quantities of pastry and coffee. For some, this is the most important part of Sunday service.  Pastor has expanded the normal monthly coffee hour to include all Sundays on a more informal basis. Still, it’s the 2nd Sunday that brings out the best in the Church Ladies.

On the way down the stairs I stop to investigate the innards of our mailbox, conveniently located on the landing. Nothing there. Diane beat me to it again. That’s OK. I’ll get a chance to read whatever was there when she forgets and sets it on a table. I’ll snatch it up when she’s got a cookie halfway to her mouth. Not that it would make a difference – I doubt if she’d even lose a crumb off that cookie.  She would hand it to me if I just asked, but being sneaky about it is more fun. Or, I could go read someone else’s mail that hadn’t been picked up yet – someone who wasn’t here today. Yeah, I could do that. After all, their mail was just like ours no doubt. Again, no fun. I needed a little challenge.

I’m at the end of the line near the door to the front stairs and Diane is almost to the serving line. I would go join her, but Ev is between us and I know how he is about people cutting in front of him. I made that mistake once – it wasn’t pretty – won’t do it again – shouldn’t’ve done it the first time. But hey! I’m younger and quicker (I thought) so why not?  I had that urge again because the lemon bars were going quickly and there was a distinct possibility I wouldn’t get any if I didn’t do something to improve my place in line. So I just marched up and started talking with Ev about something (don’t remember what) and just kept it up while the line shuffled forward. Those around us didn’t realize the drama unfolding before them, but Ev knew. I watched him flick his eyes toward the plates of goodies every once in a while (I knew he was checking the lemon bars) as I continued my meaningless banter.

Just before we reached the counter Jeff came by and greeted to me. This stopped my drivel and caused me to avert my attention from Ev to Jeff. Ev took that opportunity to swiftly fill the space I had vacated thereby sealing the line, making it necessary for me to return to the end and start over. It’s a Church Rule. There was absolutely no way I was getting lemon bars today. No way. Bummer. But, I had to finish the line. While I was working my magic on Ev, twelve more people had arrived, so there was a possibility I might not get anything.  As I wasted away at the end of the line all I could think about was how thankful I was that we have communion every Sunday. Makes missing a cookie or two relatively unimportant.

As that last thought flashed through my numbed mind, Ev came by, paused for a moment, looked me sternly in the eye, then handed me one of the two lemon bars on his plate. What a guy! Sharing his lemon bars! Not many would do that. As I stood there in wonder, thankful for Ev’s generosity, I looked down at the lemon bar cradled on the napkin in my outstretched hand. It was a great lemon bar. Must have been about 3 inches by 2 inches – generous cuts by the Church Ladies.

Just as I was recovering from Ev’s kind gesture, Diane came over. Seeing the lemon bar in my outstretched hand, she took it with a “thanks, Honey!” and went to her chair. My eyes moved from my empty hand to Diane, no words coming. Once again I had nothing with a strong possibility of not improving that stance. The line moved on without me but that didn’t matter since there was no one behind to urge me on. 

When Diane got to her seat she turned and said, “come on, I got you some coffee and cookies.” That perked me up. I wasn’t leaving empty-handed after all. Oh yeah, it was OK that she took the lemon bar since it was for her anyway. I can take them or leave them, but she goes into withdrawal if she doesn’t get a lemon fix at least once a month. Me? I’ve been known to do some pretty embarrassing things for an oatmeal raisin cookie.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< Stop >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Now you can quit and do something useful with your time.

Thanks

Blog # 400

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Hey! It’s a milestone! This is my 400th entry. You’d think that by now I would be a lot less full of crap than when I started, wouldn’t you? Diane doesn’t think so. She thinks I have a never-ending supply. I suppose I should be offended, kinda, but I’m not. I think, as Popeye would say, “I yam what I yam.”

Today was PT day for me at the VA, and I think it might be my last because the diagnosis changed a little bit. Instead of my rotator cuff, now it’s my bicep that’s deemed to be problematic and it can be addressed by pushing really, really hard on the part that hurts, just before applying ice. Diane said she’d be happy to do that for me so there’s really no need for me to visit EB at the VA any longer.

After the VA we took back roads from Portland to Hillsboro where we had lunch at the all you can eat joint. I had dead chicken, shrimp scampi, corn, mashed potatoes, buns, a root beer float, and frozen yogurt with hot fudge topping. Very nutritious. Well, it taste very nutritious, anyway, and that’s the important part.

After lunch went a few blocks to the Habitat For Humanity ReStore store to look for ‘stuff’. The original thought was to see if they had any of the panelling that looks like wainscoting to use in The Bathroom. Instead, we found wainscoting of various sizes that’s all tongue and groove on all four sides. Interesting. We bought almost all of it, in addition to a large area rug that will be placed in the dining room area once we rip out the rest of the carpet that’s there. This rug is, of course, for Ozzie who does not walk on hard wood, or ceramic tile floors. He needs rugs. Oddly, he has no problem walking the length of the garage floor. I think it has something to do with traction.

After the ReStore store visit, we went to Tuality Hospital in Hillsboro to visit our friend Tom. Linda was there, so got visit with her, too. Tom is doing absolutely great. He’s up walking the floor for his physical therapy and is doing wonderful. We had a nice long visit which ended when his PT person arrived to get him moving around. When he raised up and swiveled around to stand up I made him stop because he had on one of those backless gowns and I didn’t want the image of his ass burned into my brain as I knew it would never go away. He was kind enough to defer until I could get around in front of him and make my departure. We’re really proud of him. Of the three people who were on life support, including him, he’s the only one who made it out. There’s a reason. We don’t know what it is, yet, but we’ll be finding out.

On the way out of the hospital I stopped at the Admissions Desk and asked the young lady behind the counter if she was the one to whom I should confess. It was an impulse, and she immediately got it. You know … admit you did something wrong, or confess … all the same to me. She told me no in a very nice way, but I think she was on the phone to security as I made my way out the door.

Then we headed home. I told Diane what I did with the Admissions Lady and she asked, “Jerold, why do you do things like that? One of these days you’re going to ask the wrong person and they’ll just lock you up.” She was very serious, as she is every time she tells me that. I never listen, of course. I just cruise that fine line, down the middle of the decorum  column, with the belief that everyone has at least a little sense of humor. If they don’t, they should. Diane’s concern, with which I must agree, is that my sense of humor is a bit obscure for some folks. That’s OK. Can’t satisfy everyone.

Today is Newspaper Day for me. That’s when I go to the Lion’s Club newspaper collection container and straighten things up a bit. Someone does this every day to ensure only paper gets stacked inside. Most people follow the suggested rules, about paper only, but others couldn’t careless. It’s handy so they toss in whatever they have because a trash can is too far away. It’s usually not too bad. Today it was because someone decided it was OK to drop a bag of well used cat litter inside, and it leaked. Add to that the high temp today was just under 90, and it’s in a large, truck size, steel container, it just kind of permeated everything. I think the temp inside was well above 100 so exerting any kind of effort produced prodigious amounts of sweat which really messed up my glasses. I had to work fast because the smell was starting to get to me, and I had already called in an order for pizza. I was a total mess when I emerged from the container. Everything was wringing wet, even my socks, so folks in Papa Murphy’s were eager to see me get my pizza and leave.

As soon as I got home I fired up the oven and came to my computer to put together my agenda for tonight’s church council meeting. The whirlwind continued when Diane got home from taking her Mom to Safeway, the pizza was inserted, giving me only 8 minutes to do something before having to eat it. Actually 10 minutes. After 8 we turn it then cook it another 2. Perfect every time.

As we ate we watched Diane Sawyer news, then it was time for me to leave for my meeting. It was brutal. I’m home from my marathon meeting and got tired all over again just relating all that.

So now I’m quitting. It’s really sad that I didn’t have something really profound to share for my 400th entry. The best I could do was about Tom. You know, Tom’s situation is pretty profound, now that I think about it. It’s amazing! It’s a miracle! He’s literally  back from the dead to bless us with his presence a while longer. Maybe not all by his choice, however, I have no doubt that a strong will to survive had something to do with his recovery.

G’nite.

Good News, Bad News

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The good news is that Tom is getting better and the doctor who put him on life support, as a last resort, thinks Tom is going to win. Thank you all for your kind thoughts regarding Tom. I won’t dwell on the details. Just know that it appears the DNR Linda authorized won’t be needed quite yet.

Now, the bad news.

It isn’t really catastrophic, as some bad news events I’ve experienced, but it’s still one of those unmanly events I seem to get caught up in once in a while. The garage sale, it was. I mentioned this last night, shortly before midnight, at which Diane called a halt, ending my endless trips up and down the basement stairs, adding boxes of “things” to the Buick’s interior. It was amazing how she cleared out big areas down there. We discovered the pool table that Jack and Wynette sent over. It hasn’t been put together, yet, but it’s still there. I’d forgotten about it.

It disappeared because it’s a large horizontal surface which everyone knows is extremely handy for collecting a large amount of ‘stuff’. Ultimately, it simply disappears under a mound of quilts, blankets, computers, games, boxes of bolts, screws, and nails. Stuff like that. I think there were some underwear in there someplace, too. Don’t know whose they were but they weren’t mine because there weren’t any spots on them and they didn’t fit. I checked.

Diane and I arrived at her Mom’s house shortly after 8 am. Did you get that? 0800! It was brutal having to leave my nice comfy recliner to go empty out the Buick. But, I had my coffee, so I dealt with it as best I could. Getting there early gave me an opportunity to visit the neighbor to see what kind of bargains he had. The best one was a chain saw for $16. An old guy beat me to it, however. The owner, the neighbor’s Dad, picked it up, yanked the cord once, and it fired right up. What a great deal that was.

They also had all manner of things that plug-in, but I have lots of those already. Oddly, as I recall them, all I can ‘see’ is two long rows of various kinds of drills with the cords neatly wound up and rubber banded to the handles. Very clean and proper, it was. I was impressed.

After spending a couple of hours ‘in the area’, I gained my freedom around 10 am and went home where I wandered around aimlessly in the basement in a failed attempt to be as productive as Diane in ridding my shop of things I don’t really need. It was painful. I honestly cannot remember doing anything useful until I texted Diane and asked if she was hungry. That was shortly after noon.

So, I drove the Buick, which I’m allowed to drive when I’m by myself, back to Grams’ where I received $20 and a request for one of those chicken teriyaki Subway sandwiches. I had my heart set on tacos, and was determined to get some, but that didn’t work out because I hit the light just right to make the left turn to Subway, so I took it. Taco Bell is to the right. Then, when I attempted to park, I couldn’t because some old person in front of me took the very last spot. Therefore, I had to back out of the lot and go park about a mile away and walk back. By the time I returned spaces were available, of course, but it’s luck of the draw getting one when you drive in.

I ordered the dead chicken sandwich and also my favorite – a foot long real deal egg (not just whites) with double bacon on non-nutritional white bread. I always order ‘non-nutritional white bread’ to which the sandwich makers almost always validate with, “Italian?” This gets my approval because I know it’s the right one.

Like normal, I asked them to not cut mine in half because I was just going to devour it so it was a wasted effort. Turns out that this time I should have let them do it because it was really limp in the middle and kind of flopped over. Definitely not a one-handed sandwich. For a drink, Diane’s Mom, Jean, got me one of her sodas. It was a tiny little 7.5 oz can. Just about the cutest, most adorable little can of soda I believe I’ve ever had the pleasure of holding. It made me feel like an NBA basketball player with a normal soda, the way it fit in my hand. I think it was Sprite.

At this time, 8:21 pm, Diane is once again in the basement boxing ‘things’ up for me to cart up the stairs. I guess it’s good exercise for me but I’m not a fan of exercise. Neither is Diane. I admit, we ‘talk’ about walking, and actually did, one time, walk down to her Mom’s house with the dogs but we never did it again. It’s downhill the first half which wasn’t too bad, but had it not been for the dogs pulling us back up the hill, we would have called it quits. Maybe if we did it more regularly it would get easier. Ya think?

I don’t think I mentioned one of the benefits we gained by me cutting down the hedge out front. The sprinklers can actually reach all the way to the bed, now, when the window is open. Thankfully, it was Diane’s side that took the brunt of the soaking, so I didn’t really mind. Diane likes to water the brown lawn this time of year, for some reason, and didn’t think about the window being open because it’s never been a problem before. Now it is.

Now I must quit. I’ve been typing for 9 minutes now and my fingers are getting tired. I need a drink of water with which I will raise in a toast to Tom’s continued success.

G’nite.