Fake Cats, A Haiku Farewell To Summer, and Vehicles

Posted on September 15, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

Greetings from the Cat Central. Today was chosen as the annual cat migration from the display case to the dining room table. Unlike last year, they were not transported individually, but with the aid of Avon box lids. They are pretty handy to have around. We have lots of them because Diane buys Avon products just for the fun of it and she sells it, too. If you’re inclined, you can buy from Diane’s Avon account online and have it delivered directly to your door, or post office, if you don’t have a door. If all of you did that, on a regular basis, I could retire again. That was a shameless plug for my lovely bride and I’m not a bit ashamed for doing it.

Before going to church this morning, I went out, with some urging, to see about patching the roof to the ’79 Winnebago. You may recall that it leaked a bit during our trip to Fort Stevens in Hammond, Oregon. It didn’t leak much, or long, but it leaked and it seemed to be prudent to fix it. All the turmoil of getting home, however, lowered that priority, however, and I kinda lost it in the white noise that makes up the bottom range of my memory. Diane, however, made it very clear that I needed to do something about it before it rained or she would get cranky. So, I found my really old can of Henry roof ‘stuff’.

Once I pried the lid off, I discovered there was about an inch of solidified matter on the top of about half an inch of useable coating. Figuring it would be enough to seal the seam that I suspected of leaking, I rushed right out of the house and climbed up on the RV roof. The leaky part is toward the front, so I cautiously made my way past both ceiling fans, and the air conditioner, and kneeled down to do the job.

I couldn’t find a putty knife, which would have been the perfect tool for applying it because it’s really thick. Instead, I found a really dull inch-wide chisel with a handle long enough to allow me to get to the sticky stuff without getting it all over me – just the fingers I used to hold the chisel.

The coating went on nicely, as I remembered it did when I first used it about 2-3 years ago, so the job went quickly. That was a good thing, too, because about the time I grabbed the first rung of the ladder to the roof, mist was falling from the sky. It wasn’t actually falling because mist just kind of blows around with the wind, like a cloud. There wasn’t any wind, though, so it kinda let gravity have more of a roll in its direction. So, it started getting a bit wet. Thankfully, the sticky stuff sticks to anything, no matter what, so it worked just fine.

After church we brought Diane’s Mom, Jean, home with us to entertain the dogs while Diane cooked another one of her gourmet meals made with dead chicken. I watched football. I also sat on the couch with Mom to show her recent pictures of what’s been going on with us. You’ve seen some of them, so I won’t bore you with them, again.

I will, however, show you the before …

… and after of the Cat Migration …

Next their home will be cleaned thoroughly, and all of the cats will be dusted and returned to a new place in the cabinet. Since the cats are not Lutherans, they don’t care where they wind up … there’s no need to ensure they go back to the space they’ve occupied for the past year or so. That makes the return far easier.

During the migration, an event in which I was not allowed to participate, I watched more football on the Man Room TV. I think I watched Peyton Manning’s Denver Broncos beat Eli Manning’s New York Giants. As I recall, it wasn’t really too difficult for Peyton to beat up his little brother. While watching this, I was interrupted once in a while with the soothing sound of distant thunder, then it rained for a little while quite nicely. I didn’t go out to check my patch job because I don’t really care if it gets wet. Well, I do care, but not enough to go out in the rain to find out. I’m pretty sure it’s OK. I’ll look tomorrow. If it’s not raining.

With the rain, we say farewell to summer. The temperatures are dropping and, according to some old guys Diane listens to, we’re supposed to have a really bad winter. I don’t know what tha means because I don’t know what a really good winter is so there is no point of reference. I think a really good winter is the last one we spent in Hawaii, in 1989, just before I was discharged from the Navy. As I recall, it was 80+ degrees on the January day we flew home, and it was 2 degrees when we arrived in Portland. Kinda nuts, huh? Some folks wonder how we could do something like that. I mean, we had been living in Hawaii for the past 3 years, and we flew to Oregon in the middle of winter? The main reason is that we had already sent Jeff to Scappoose and figured we needed to check up on him. In truth, we’ve never regretted that move, except for the first few days when we froze our little nuts off. Well, at least one of us did that. Then we just got used to it.

In honor of summer’s demise, I submit the following 2-verse 5-7-5 haiku poem for you to criticize, if you wish …

Friday was sunny,

Today it started raining.

Summer is over

Bum, bum, bum, bummer.

It makes me want to sob, but

I’ll get over it.

That pretty much sums up this Sunday. I know, it’s probably not what you expected, but I’m not a poet. Perhaps you noticed if you actually this far.
Oh, yes! I surprised and pleased to get a call from our friend, Tom. Remember him? The one who was at death’s door not too long ago? We talked for almost 53 minutes. It was awesome!

Now for a couple of pictures I took in Ocean Park when we visited the Rod Run To The End Of The World …

This is the new color scheme for my old truck that looks suspiciously like this one …

I think I’ll keep the shocks on my truck, and it will have chrome bumpers. I like chrome bumpers.

… and this is Cindy & Gary in the 1962 VW bus they displayed at the show. It’s pretty cool.

Golf, Chivalry, Family, and Ducks

Posted on September 14, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here’s Jim looking like a pro …

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Naps, DSL, Lunch, Oil Change, and Church Council

Posted on September 10, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

It was an early morning for Jerrie today. The dogs got him up at 0500 demanding food. Had he gone to bed at a reasonable hour last night, that probably wouldn’t have been a problem, but he didn’t, so it was. In response, after feeding the dogs, he slept in his recliner till 0930. That’s a little longer than usual, but still within acceptable standards for someone who no longer works for a living.

Shortly after getting up he had to turn his attention to Roberta’s computer. She called last night seeking assistance because she hasn’t had an internet connection since last Saturday. Part of the problem is that she has a DSL line which, in Jerrie’s opinion, isn’t an acceptable way to connect to the internet. Since Roberta just lives a short distance away, he had time to fill his coffee cup, the really big one with Starbucks written on the side of it, and get semi-blamed for drinking all the coffee. In his defense, it was technically only one cup of coffee and we all know that coffee is not doled out using recipe type measurements for a cup. Using their cups would, in fact, totally screw up pretty much any recipe.

He did the typical resets required to get a DSL modem back in action, but the little DSL light always turned red, not green. So, he called Centurylink and pretended to be Richard, Roberta’s husband, while Roberta sat next to him to make sure he didn’t say anything he wasn’t supposed to. The young man on the technical end listened to the problem, then got his trouble-shooting book and had Jerrie step through all the steps he’d already taken, then deemed that it was time for a technician to visit in order to resurrect the DSL. The phone on the account, incidentally, was working just fine. The help desk person was required to ensure Jerrie understood that the service call was only for outside service, not inside. If he had authorized inside service, and no problem was found, Roberta would be billed $85. Jerrie thinks it’s a scare tactic, and he didn’t think the problem was inside the house anyway. Every time it rains hard here, many people using Centurylink have a problem within a few days. Odd, but true. It was the same way when Jerrie had Centurylink then moved to Comcast even after being told by the CL help person that DSL speeds up to 40 mbs, and fibre optic connections were available near him. After looking further, it was revealed that they had apparently skipped the street he lives on so he was stuck with only 7 mps. It was actually only 5, but it was beyond the point of needing to argue about 2 mps at that point.

A Centurylink tech was scheduled to visit Roberta’s house sometime between 1-6 today. Jerrie finished up at 1044, just one minute before he was supposed to pick up Diane’s Mom, Jean, and take her to the St. Helens Senior Center for lunch. Diane was working there today with other Bethany Lutheran Ladies to serve the meal. She does this once a month and Jerrie always helps her when she asks. He normally scrapes food from the used plates, a task he’s been trained to do since 1968. Today the SHSC had ham slices with scalloped potatoes and green beans. Before the meal, he and Jean were served lime jello into which was mixed cottage cheese. It’s my understanding that neither Jerrie nor Jean were particularly convinced this was a good thing to do. It looked kinda nice, they said, but the combination of textures on the palate were just … wrong.

Jerrie and Jean stayed until Diane and the other ‘girls’, Barb, Jean, and Mary had eaten, and they had a nice visit. Then he took Jean home. The other Jean, one of the Bethany girls, presented Jerrie with a large squash that she had removed from the display of the food distribution area. She must have known that he wasn’t a squash fan so told him he could use it as a club for something. It was hard, and would have probably worked well for that purpose. He said, “you just shouldn’t have to eat something that has innards in any way similar to pumpkins.” He’s right on that count. Before leaving he put the squash back into the display, but appreciated Jean’s gesture.

After dropping Jean, Diane’s Mom, at home, he went back to Emmert Motors and made an appointment to get the oil changed in Diane’s Buick. Turns out they had a 1500 spot available, so he had them pencil him in. By the time he got back home he only had 1.5 hours remaining until the oil change so he got Diane’s permission to skip the outside heat and stay inside until he had to leave. She granted the request so he didn’t have to deliver the Buick in sweaty and greasy clothing.

He delivered the Buick about 10 minutes early, then took a seat in the waiting room and read his e-book. After about 45 minutes he got up to stretch his legs then had a talk with Jeff C., the dealership manager. They had a 2014 loaded Impala out front and Jeff gave Jerrie the key so he could go check it out. It was reported that the Impala is quite nice, and appears to get pretty good gas mileage (21-28), but it was black with black interior. Very classy, he said, but the preferred choice would have been the Buick Lacrosse on the display floor. It’s White Diamond with the champagne leather interior, Diane’s favorite combination. She once had a 1992 Cadillac Seville STS with those colors which set the standards for her choice of colors. Jerrie admits, that was a nice one.

Jerrie’s tooth hole still hurts a bit, and the taste of blood makes him kind of nauseous so he doesn’t think he would be a very good vampire. Probably just as well because with his teeth getting worse, like they are, it won’t be long before biting anyone on the neck will produce any results. Actually, he said doing that hasn’t produced any results for him, ever.

Upon returning from the oil change, and $41 lighter, he returned the Buick to its reserved spot in the family garage. His car, and truck, are relegated to the great outdoors because neither of them are shiny like the Buick. That, and Diane doesn’t like having to go outside in the rain to enter her vehicle which is totally understandable. He was then provided a delicious supper of one Hebrew National hotdog, a small bowl of pork and beans, and a glass of milk. Dessert was a Dream Cicle, one of those orange sherbert and vanilla things on a stick. He really likes those. It felt really good where his tooth used to be.

He was allowed to watch a bit of news before he had to leave to conduct the Church Council meeting, at the church. He does this every month because he’s the council president. Hard to believe, I know, but he is. So, he makes the agenda and conducts the meetings. The council consists of Pam, Barb, Mary, Stephen, Ron, Shannon, Jerrie and Pastor Rory. They actually get business done and have fun during the process.

Here’s what the cat was going when he left the house …

Yes … sleeping on the Buick.

The meeting ended shortly after 2000 and he returned home, in the dark, to almost end his day. Right now he’s looking over my shoulder, ensuring I get all the details correct.

He wishes you all well and reports that he may be back tomorrow. We’ll see about that because he’s got to work under the ’79 Winnebago tomorrow and it’s supposed to be 95 degrees out there.

Me? I’m staying inside.

College Football and Falling Gracefully

Posted on September 1, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

Whether or not you follow college football, you need to know that the Ducks are pretty awesome. They won their game yesterday 66-3. I know, it was one of those warm up games, getting ready for league play, and it wasn’t the most scored by a team this weekend, but, still. That’s a whole mess of points. The most scored in a game was by Indiana who won their game 73-35. The Ducks also racked up 772 yards of total offense, a new school record, and enough to currently lead the nation in that category. It looks encouraging. The Oregon St. Beavers lost yesterday, but they still scored 46 points.

Now I must report a weekend accident and the lesson I learned because of it.

Let me set the stage for you … we have underground sprinklers that kinda work, enough to get the bushes around the house nice and wet, along with our front porch. Diane found a need to turn them on yesterday afternoon because she didn’t think the water bill was large enough. She’s given up on watering the yard, which has turned a nice khaki color, my favorite color. The only thing that grows in it are random dandelions. Not many, but enough to make it necessary to lop their tops off once in a while.

We have 4 sprinkler zones in the front that are layed out in an odd pattern … one zone has about six sprinklers on it and they all overlap a great deal, and one only has 2 sprinklers on it. The latter is the one that sprays the porch, and also sprays Diane’s side of the bed if she forgets to close the window on her side of the bedroom. This has been tested.

She only lets each zone run for about 10 minutes, then switches. After turning them off, she called me to the front porch to look at something but I can’t remember what it was because when I stepped onto the porch my feet slipped right out from beneath me, causing me to go airborne for a brief moment in time.

It’s really amazing how much data your brain can accumulate while you are in an unplanned free fall, no matter how short. For instance, as my feet slipped, I did a swift calculation as to about where I might land. I had to take into account that there are three cement steps in the landing zone, so I had to run through the calculations a couple of times to make sure they were correct. By the time I was done with that, I was about halfway down and I was looking up at the porch light. It reminded me that I need to switch that old thing out for the new one that’s laying on my table saw in the basement.

Knowing the steps were going to complicate things, I just decided to land on my elbows, mostly on the left one because it’s the worst one I have, anyway. Plus, I remember what happened to Jack’s wrist when he fell off a truck and tried to block descent with his hands. Yes, I didn’t fall nearly as far as he did, but it still crossed my mind.

About that time, my left elbow hit the top step about the time my rear end hit the third step, as planned, to distribute the impact a little better. Then, all of my parts slid the rest of the way off the steps allowing the back of my head to clang against the top step.

Then, all was still. Diane was standing right next to me the entire time and didn’t make one move to stop my fall. She just watched. Admittedly, however, it happened pretty quickly so she didn’t have time to think about it. She just said, “do I need to call 911?”

I layed there a bit, taking inventory of my previously moving parts, and discovered that I could feel pretty much everything except most of my left hand. That concerned me because I didn’t want a broken wrist like Jack. But, I hadn’t heard anything snap, and I could move my fingers without pain, so figured I dodged that bullet. Part of my hand is numb all the time anyway, so a little more wasn’t a big deal.

Though I didn’t lay there very long, it was long enough to actually get kind of comfortable. But, my head started to ache so thought I better move. Plus, Diane was still asking me if she should call 911. She didn’t take my pulse or anything. I guess I was blinking and breathing so she figured I was probably a good judge of whether or not I needed emergency treatment. I actually am pretty good at that and used to be on a first name basis with all the folks at Urgent Care here in town. Most of my severe injuries were accomplished while I was home alone thereby creating a need for me to either dial 911, or just drive myself to Urgent Care. The latter was always the easiest, and quickest, so that’s what I did.

Finally, figuring I wouldn’t know what didn’t work correctly until I tried to stand up, I sat up and jump to my feet. Yes, that’s what I did. I may have even say “Olay!” when I did it, but I’m not sure. I do know that on the way up I didn’t experience any debilitating pain, which pleased me, so told Diane, “No, we’re not going to the emergency room.” I wasn’t bleeding and nothing appeared to be broken, but I wasn’t really sure how hard I hit my head, so stayed awake for a few hours to make sure I didn’t fall asleep, while Diane went to bed to read.

Don’t get me wrong, she was concerned, but not as much as a normal wife might be. She’s used to me injuring myself in odd ways much worse than this simple little fall, but I am getting up in zone where falls like that can cause serious damage. Apparently I’m part of the ‘Lucky Group’, so far.

My elbow hurt a bit, but feeling was returning to my hand. Oddly, too, my right shoulder and arm weren’t hurting and they’ve been hurting for weeks. Maybe I fixed it, somehow.

So, “what’s the lesson?”

Don’t wear your worn out Crocs out on a slippery wet porch unless you’re going to take tiny little steps and walk flat-footed. I knew that’s what I was supposed to do because I’ve slipped on the garage floor before, but never fell down. There aren’t any steps in the garage though.

Today I figured I’d be black and blue, but that didn’t happen. Can’t even see marks where I landed. I felt cheated, somehow, by going through all of that and not coming out of it with even a little evidence that ‘something’ had happened.

Maybe tomorrow will be different. I’m going out with the Lion’s Club to plant flags around town tomorrow morning in honor of Labor Day, so I better get to bed.

Hope everyone had a good weekend. In a couple of days it’s back to school for the kids. They’re real happy about that.

Water Pump, Tile, Friends, Dead Chicken & Shrimp

Posted on August 23, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

Last night it was determined that the ‘3 Jerry’s Group’ would meet for lunch at the giant all you can eat buffet at 2 pm today. The group name originated a long time ago because there were 3 of us named Jerry, in one form or another, who belonged to the TVCC (Tualatin Valley Cruiser Club). As you may suspect, we all have PT Cruisers. When the club was established there were very few members so it was interesting that three of us were called Jerry. We had numbers, too, according to age. I’m #2 because I’m not the oldest, and I’m not the youngest. I’m just the middle man.

Anyway, as things progressed with the car club we formed alliances, leaning toward those with whom we related the most and it kinda stuck. Diane and I have not done anything with the TVCC for a long time, but the friendships we made because of that car are set in stone, creating an entire new family and support system for all of us. It’s just great.

Not all were able to make it today, notably Vie and Coleen. That’s understandable since it was a last-minute decision to meet up. I’ve told you Tom’s story, and it was mainly for him that we just had to do it because it was like we were given a second chance to do this. When he went on life support on Diane’s Mom’s birthday. That was the 8th. He had called me a number of times, always asking how Diane was, because of her shingles, and always ending with a suggestion that we needed to gather up the group and eat something. For one reason or another, that never happened, then Tom almost bit the dust. It was a wake up call, for sure. So, clearer heads prevailed and made the arrangements. I think we’re good for the next month or so.

With that plan in place, I had a 1 pm deadline to be home, and clean, for the trip to Beaverton for lunch at 2 pm. That gave me about 3 hours to work with Daniel on The Bathroom. First order of business was to tack on a few extra pieces of cement board. Then we taped and sealed the joints, and got busy putting tile on the back wall. It was a sticky mess, but we kept it as clean as we could, all things considered.

We managed to set the center line dead on. I was actually pretty amazed we hit it as close as we did. It was a happy amazing as it was a team effort with me slapping on thinset and Daniel slapping on the tiles. Tiles was Daniel’s job so if any of the grout lines are noticeably off, it’s his fault. That’s the way I work.

When we got up to the fifth row, or so, it was time for me to leave and get cleaned up for the trip to Beaverton. We were almost done with the gallon of pre-mixed thinset so I left Daniel to use it up and call it a day. We only had a couple of rows to go before beginning a pattern with colored tiles, so it was good timing. I walked away with a clear mind that Daniel wouldn’t have any trouble finishing up.

Getting ahead of myself a little, we stopped by to see the progress on our way home from lunch and learned from Jennifer that we hadn’t kept track of the thinset that fell off the trowel, and the wall, missing the sheet laying in the bottom of the tub and landing on the new tub. I wiped up almost every bit of what I spilled so it must have been Daniel that caused the mess. Honest. Anyway, Jennifer said it took her 3 hours to clean it up. When we got there, it looked really nice so I don’t know what all the fuss is about. Usually, with tile, I wind up doing it and cleaning it all up afterwards. It was kind of refreshing to not have to do that. So, Thank You Jennifer. And, thanks, Daniel for sticking with me and learning another skill set.

After deserting Daniel, I headed right home, as directed, to take a shower and get ready. I even shaved, removing only a little bit of skin that I no longer needed. It hardly hurt at all. I was ready ahead of time, but we still didn’t leave until after 1 pm … and … we stopped to pick up Diane’s Mom, Jean, because she went with us. That meant I had to sit in the back seat, again. That’s actually OK, because it’s comfy back there and I only have to say “Uh huh” once in a while to make the women think I’m listening. Sometimes I’ll say “no” just for fun, and add some totally unrelated detail, but they never catch on. Until now, that is.

The trip was uneventful and I apparently successfully answered all questions aimed at the back seat as the car did not stop in order to administer punishment. Not that I recall, anyway.

When we arrived, about 10 minutes late, I was gratified to learn that we were not the last to arrive. Jerry1 was still looking for Old Town Buffet. Tom was giving him instructions, but it wasn’t working out well.

Already there were Tom, Linda, Rick, Jodi, Jerry3, and Nelda. Rick just happened to be on vacation this week so he and Jodi were able to join us, which was special. Jerry1 showed up shortly thereafter and we all limped, in our own special ways, into the facility. Jerry3 was fresh from his acupuncture treatment for sciatica pain, Tom was on two canes from his near death experience, Nelda had her trusty crutch. Nelda has always had a crutch and it’s odd that I mentioned that because I actually never notice it when I see her. It’s just … there … and invisible.

It was a good time to arrive because most of the lunch crowd had gone, but lunch prices were still in play, and drinks were included. A bonus.

Those at the front, the ones with the canes, chose the table closest to the food tables which worked well for me. Usually when we go there, Diane leads me to the back of the room, putting me in a position for failure, walking all that way with a plate full of food. I’ve been pretty successful the last few visits, but it’s just a matter of time. Today we were close enough to toss food on the table. I didn’t do that, of course, but it crossed my mind.

Sadly, there were no shrimp, something I was looking forward to, this being Friday and all. All they had was lots of fried chicken, and a lot of other stuff that I like, so I ate a complete chicken dinner, for lunch. It included two legs, potatoes, gravy, corn, and a buttered bun. It was so good I did it twice. Then I had a soup bowl full of frozen vanilla yogurt smothered in hot chocolate fudge. I always use soup bowls because they’re bigger than those tiny little bowls they put by the ice cream dispenser.

The sunday was so good, I did it again, too.

Then we talked, moving around the table, swapping ends, making sure we had a chance to talk with everyone there. I always catch grief for my behavior which I don’t understand because I really try to be good. Honest. My mouth just, sometimes, gets away from me and spins out of control, spewing things I wouldn’t normally say in a zillion years if I had time to think about it. But I don’t, so have to live with the results. I guess.

After moving to Tom’s end of the table, we had a heart to heart talk. It was totally awesome that we had this reprieve which allowed us to commune. As I said before, all these folks are family to us and I know our ‘real’ family members would think the same thing. Actually, Jack and Wynette have met them and I think they would agree. Especially about Jerry #1.

This Jerry used to be a Jockey and spends a considerable amount of time at the Portland Meadows race track where he ‘runs book’ on a current jockey. I think that means he gets them rides and shares in their winnings, but it may mean something entirely different. Jerry #1 knows Jack and Wynette from the track because J&W visit regularly to watch one of their friend’s horses run. Today, Jack, Jerry said Jim had a couple of winners the past week, and Jerry’s jockey is riding them.

While talking with Tom, I look up and see familiar faces coming into the facility. One familiar face from 8th grade and High School, with his wife and daughter. They live in St. Helens, as do we, so it was a surprise to see them amongst all these mostly strange people. Then they sat at the table directly behind me. He, Lonnie, didn’t recognize me until I went over and sat down next to him and started taking. His wife, Sandy, and daughter Shannon, I’ve met before at some point in the past, but I don’t remember when. I just see them around town once in a while. It was good to see them. Since they sat so close, talking with them wasn’t an option. It was meant to be.

While talking with Lonnie, I noticed he had steak on his plate, and Sandy had shrimp. That caused me to rethink my need to quit eating since shrimp is really what I was counting on. So, I got a plate, filled it with shrimp and returned it to the table. Then I got another plate, emptied the shrimp bin, and put it at the other end of the table, mission accomplished. Jerry1, Jerry3, and I ate one plate, Tom ate the other. No one else felt the need to delve into these culinary delights which suited me just fine.

Thankfully, everyone stood up at once, as if summoned by some unknown signal that indicated the end of our visit. It was a little weird, but I went along which is good because I was seriously considering another soup bowl of frozen yogurt.

Before entering our assigned vehicles we all practiced our hugs on each other in front of the windows to the buffet place. Assigned vehicles were varied and interesting. Jerry3 & Nelda were in their PT, as were Rick & Jodi. Tom & Linda were in their little Scion toaster car, Diane and I were in our Buick, and Jerry1 was in his Camaro. That was just to show you that our friendship isn’t about PT’s any more, but we still own them.

Then we all came home, returned Grams to her house to recover from all the gaiety, and I haven’t done much since.

Cedric asked to spend the night, which is always just fine with us, because he didn’t want to spend another night with giggling girls in the house. Lydia is always having house guests, it seems. They are all cute, so don’t know why he minds. He is, after all, a High School sophomore. I suppose it might get old after a period of time.

Once again, it’s time to quit. I have, as Terri might say, used up all my nouns. Actually, she says “I’ve lost my nouns,” when trying to remember some thing, some one, or some place. We all loved our lunch and conversation. I was told so many things I needed to remember, but I didn’t have anything on which to take notes. So, those things will rattle around in my head for a while and eventually pop up at some unexpected moment, making it necessary for me to expel it in the midst of something totally unrelated, causing it to lose significance because of it’s seeming lack of association with reality regarding the current conversation, whether I’m part of it or not.

Oh. Almost forgot. The Winnebago water pump showed up in yesterday’s mail. Now we can flush the toilet. Thank goodness for that.

G’nite

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

Posted on August 21, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

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.

Engines, Swing Sets, and Tom

Posted on August 10, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

Today I did something I’ve been wanting to do for months. I worked on the old D-22 Winnebago and got it running! That’s a pretty magnificent thing, I thought, because I’m not really a gear head. I’m more of a computer nerd-type of person. Actually, I’m just a semi-nerd because I don’t know half the stuff real nerds know. I just fiddle around the edges, and I’m not afraid to rip things apart to see what makes them tick.

I do, however, have problems with motivation. You know, getting started on something I want to do. It’s easy to claim that other projects get creep to the top of my list before I can get it done, but that’s not really valid. Today, however, I put my OCD-ness aside for a moment, gathered my tools, and went out to tackle this thing.

I was allowed to do this because Diane went to her Mom’s for Day Two of their garage sale. It was a bust. She came home around 1:30 pm because they only made about $20 between them. But, they had a nice visit.

Back to the Winnie …

The problem was with the fuel system. I already knew this, but I didn’t know where. So, I unpacked my trouble-shooting hat and went to work at the Tank Selection Switch, that gives a satisfying little click when I push the right switch on the dash. I didn’t trust it, however, so routed the fuel line around it, directly to the fuel pump.

That didn’t work, so I took the fuel pump out and tested it on a spare battery I just happened to have in the garage. It was charged up, too. I checked. This was an obstacle I had to rise above so I thought and thoughts about what to do. Then the light bulb popped on reminding me of the electric fuel pump I used to get the D-22 home in the first place. I’d installed it on the old pickup because I didn’t think the mechanical fuel pump was working. Turns out is was ok, but the pump was still installed, until around noon.

I got the pump connected to the fuel line, and connected the wires, then tested it with the dash switch. It worked just fine, making all kinds of little pumping noises. But, it wasn’t pushing fuel to the carburetor. I knew this was true because I was looking at a clear fuel filter right next to the carburetor as I cranked the engine. It was right there beside me so I know I wasn’t just guessing.

The engine also has a mechanical fuel pump, like all good engines, but I didn’t know if it worked or not, even though left it connected to the fuel line.

When I first started cranking the engine, I could hear the pump prime itself, and I saw a little movement in the gas filter, but not enough to fire the engine. This told me that it might be a good idea to take the mechanical fuel pump out of the line and just run on the electric pump. When I crawled back under the rig to do this, I noticed gas dripping from the bottom of the pump, so I knew gas was getting to it, but apparently not through it. But, the electric pump just kept right on chugging the entire time the ignition key was on. To help me solve this dilemma, before going under the rig the next time, I turned the electric pump on and left it running so I could see what was happened.

It was pretty exciting when I looked. Gas was spewing everywhere out of the mechanical pump from parts that are specifically designed to not spew. Figuring this was a good clue on which to build a solution, I returned to the cab and stopped the electric fuel pump.

Then it was back under so I could disconnect the mechanical pump, and remove it from the fuel line. Knowing the fuel lines, and the pump, were now full of fuel, I braced myself for a deluge of gas when I took the lines apart and reconnected them around the mechanical pump. I wasn’t disappointed. Gas poured down my arm, soaking my shirt, burning like crazy. But I stood fast, getting it all reconnected, and hose clamps clamped until nothing dripped. Since I already knew it was going to gush, I successfully kept my face out of the way so didn’t have to content with potential blindness or lung damage.

After waiting the recommended amount of time for allowing gas to dry on your clothing, which is about 37 minutes, I re-entered the cab and fired up the electric fuel pump and was provided with a satisfying surge of fuel into the fuel filter at the carburetor. I cranked the engine and it started almost immediately, pleasing me immensely. I runs extremely well, kinda like a sewing machine, but considerably louder.

I was pleased. I was ecstatic.

It ran and nothing caught on fire. That was the best part, I think. No fire, although I’m sure there was a strong possibility of it at any moment.

Putting thoughts of fire aside, I put it in reverse to make sure the transmission still worked. It did, but the brakes didn’t like I’d hoped the would. Since it moved, however, I figured it was a good opportunity for me to put it in the driveway to pump up the left front tire which has slowly been going flat over the last year or so.

Just when I put it in reverse, Diane showed up. So, you know that was about 1:30 pm. She was very proud of me and parked in the driveway, where I wanted to be, so she could rush to me and give me the “Hug of Gladness”. She didn’t do that. Instead, I asked her to move the Buick into the garage so I could put the Winnie in the driveway. She said, “I can’t because your boxes are in the way.” I looked, and it was true, there were two boxes in the way. I looked, not because I didn’t believe her, but because I was curious about what boxes they might be. Turns out they were empty cardboard boxes which were very easy to move. Once I did, she moved her vehicle into the garage.

Then it was back to the Winnie for me, by golly. I’d left it running, just to see how long it took before it quit, but it purred right along the whole time I was gone. Putting it in reverse, I eased it back about 20 feet or so, so I could make the right turn into our driveway in one move and discovered that the brakes still didn’t work. I probably should have checked the brake fluid level, but I was determined to finish the current task first … get it into the driveway. Doing so, in the condition the brakes were poses a significant danger to the back of the Buick, and the garage, but I overcame this by working the transmission like a coxswain in a motor whale boat, easing it forward, then jamming on the useless brakes about five or six times, then putting it in reverse to stop the forward momentum. Coxswains don’t use brakes to drive their boats so that comparison was only partially correct. With the transmission, and use of the emergency brake, which I accidentally discovered worked pretty good, I got it parked and was able to pump up the tire.

About the tires … the wheels on this thing are 19″ aluminum 5-lug custom rims. Consequently, the tires are also 19″ in the middle, and considerably taller on the outside. They are enormous things. The other Winnebago we have only has 16″ rims and the wheels look tiny by comparison. I think the Alcoa Aluminum rims were an option in 1973, but I’m not positive. I did, however, spy them in the parts catalog I have for Winnebago parts. They cost way more than what I paid for the entire rig. That means I have a huge polishing job in my future so they’ll be pretty. Incidentally, I know they are Alcoa Aluminum rims because each of them has a sticker proclaiming that fact. This tells me that Alcoa was very proud of those rims at some point in time so I need to honor them by making them shiny again.

With the RV out of the way, I cranked (and cranked) the truck up and moved it to the end of the portion of property we own on the other side of the road. Then I got my loppers out and proceeded to hack down blackberry vines, again. These are new ones, however, not the same ones I hacked down earlier in the week. Before hauling the residue down to the burn pile, I ran the mower back and forth across the weeks, getting as close to the blackberry vines as possible without endangering my little bare legs because I was wearing shorts.

It cleaned up pretty nice and gave Diane another reason to be proud of me. Twice in one day. I believe that’s a record for me.

I had just backed out of the driveway to move the RV back across the street, with the old truck, When Jeff showed up with Gilligan, Baylee, Ziva, and Daisy. In case you didn’t know, Ziva and Daisy are dogs. The other two are very energetic grandchildren who love to run, everywhere they go. Wears me out.

With his arrival, parking the RV because a parallel parking issue because he parked at the end furthest from the old truck, which I had backed into the blackberries just as far as I could, placing it in such a manner that if I couldn’t stop the RV, the truck would. Turns out I’m pretty good at parking RVs just by using the transmission R and D positions.

Jeff came to deal with the elaborate swing set Diane and I got Cedric, Lydia, and Jeran when they were much younger, but have since grown beyond the need to use it. Jeff had it installed at another place to which they were going to move, but that didn’t work out, so it was dismantled and placed on the west side of the garage. He and I moved it to the back yard near the location we all chose for the erection. Perhaps resurrection would be more correct since it’s already been erected a couple of times. It’s certainly not ‘construction’ because it’s just a matter of bolting it all together and making sure it doesn’t fall over. OK, now I’m getting confused so will move along …

It’s 8:40 pm, now, and the batter on my laptop is almost ready to expire, so I will quite.

Tom, incidentally, was removed from the respirator today and is breathing on his own. More improvement which is really the best thing about today. That, and making my bride proud.

Twice.

Class of ’62

Posted on August 4, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

The day is over, we’re home safe, and we had a great day. We got to spend an afternoon with 15 of my high school classmates. As I mentioned yesterday, as many as possible of us get together at least once a year. Today we were hosted by Jim And Sue in Lake Oswego. It was a great location, excellent host and hostess, and they have a nifty rescue dog, Romeo. He looks like the flying fuzzy dragon in “The Never Ending Story”. Cute dog.

The gathering included a pot luck dinner, which is the only way to eat. I love pot lucks.

Not much else to share today except this picture of a bunch of old people having a really good time.