Good News!

Diane had her virtual doctor visit this afternoon to find out what’s going on with the spots in her lungs. The doctor said that none of the spots, especially the big one (about the same size as the end of your little finger), have changed even a tiny bit so she believes them to be scar tissue from past infections.

Next visit is planned for October, then the doc thinks she will be on a 2-year schedule for a CT scan.

Time for my Happy Dance.

Jerrie

Itsa Monday – May the 4th be with you

I’ve established a routine for eating properly that has been successful in controlling my BS level. My wife is pleased. She was getting a little annoyed with me for not minding established rules for diabetical eating requirements which caused my BS level to go whacky every once in a while. Truthfully, being an amateur diabetic (I’m not on insulin), I tend to experiment with the hope I can find just the right solution the will allow me to eat whatever I want, whenever I want. Sadly, that doesn’t work.

I must control myself. I was kinda hoping that Diane would be my guide through this confusing sugarless existence, but she’s right … this is my battle and I need to take charge.

Getting to this point has had it’s ups and downs over the past few years, at times causing extreme concern about what’s going on. I’ve learned to recognize the need for sustenance when the cold hollow feeling grips my innards. That doesn’t happen often, but it’s exciting when it does. The last time was just a few days ago when I had Dungeness crab Louis for lunch and a bunch of sautéed shrimp for supper. I don’t know how many there were, but I bought a pound of them. My BS dropped to 62. Apparently there’s not a lot of diabetic-fighting ‘stuff’ in shrimp to keep things stable. Or, there was a conflict between the crab and shrimp during the digestive process. Who knows? Obviously not me.

Half a can of peaches fixed it. I would have had a glass of orange juice but I couldn’t find any. That works, too.

What made the event a little scary was that it occurred just as I was ready to go to bed. So, of course, my head took me down the path where, had I not caught it, Diane would have found me unresponsive in the morning and would have had to call someone to haul me away.

My golf buddy, Doug, is a professional diabetic, who assured me that had I been asleep when my BS dropped too low, my body would have alerted me to that fact so I’d awake to take care of it. He knows all that stuff. He lives alone and has dealt with high BS for many years.

Since my last ‘event’, I changed my eating habits in this way: one piece of toast, with crunchy peanut butter for breakfast, around 6 am; a large sausage patty, 2-3 eggs, O’Brien hash browns with freshly chopped peppers & onions, and one piece of toast for lunch, around noonish; whatever Diane wants for supper, whenever she wants it. Supper is an unknown but breakfast and lunch are consistent. Eating that way has allowed me to drop my morning BS level to around 130, down from 260+.

And, another thing I discovered is that those rumors I’ve heard about exercising being good for me are actually true! Who knew? Being sequestered at the moment, makes exercise difficult. Generally, my exercise routine consists of waking up, walking about 3 feet to the bathroom, then another 50 feet to the kitchen, then 30-40 around the house gathering dog and cat food after letting them out to do whatever they want to do, 30 feet from the kitchen to my recliner with a fresh glass of water and my PB toast, back to the kitchen to let the dogs back in, 10 feet to the dishwasher with all their dirty dishes, 40 feet back to my recliner where I sit, but don’t recline, to wait for the cat to come back, then 15 feet to the patio door when she announces her desire to return, then stand there with the door open which she exerts her authority by licking one foot or the other, then saunters slowly in.

Then I go sit down and start reading my book on my iPad. I don’t recline right away because I know the cat is waiting for me to do that so she can go beat on the patio door to go back outside. If I remain upright she may come jump in my lap and give me a false sense of security that she’s going to be there a while, then I recline. She waits a few minutes, looking over her shoulder, waiting for me to get comfortable, then jumps up to go beat on the door. She actually does that, too. Stands on her hind feet and pounds on the glass with her front feet. It used to be cute. I used to leave the patio door open for her as it’s on a secure balcony but in the past she’s brought treats, like mice, and various kinds of birds into the house when not supervised.

Sorry about that. I was talking about exercising, wasn’t I? What I shared really is exercise, but it’s just not enough to make a difference win one’s BS level. So, I decided to do my exercising on the golf course. Sounds like a really dumb idea because I have sciatica that’s brutal at times. But, I decided I’d walk the course instead of ride a cart like normal.

Turns out, I survived. We only play 9 holes and the course we use is pretty flat so the pain was negligible. I didn’t golf all that well, but I had some good hits. The big benefit from walking was this: I walked over 8,000 steps without falling down even once, and I travelled over 3 miles without getting out of breath. Amazing. Then, the next morning, my BS was something I could like with, literally.

Now I’m being a really good boy by eating regularly. I quit eating cake, ice cream, and pie, cut my bread intake in half (one piece of toast, not two), and don’t skip meals.

My bride is proud of me, and I feel better. I’d take a picture but “feeling better” doesn’t relate well to “looking better” in my case. I’m still really old and I need a shower. Diane told me that a couple of days ago so I guess today is the day for that, even though it’s not Saturday.

I must stop now and go make my breakfast before I fade away,

All of you please stay safe.

My Favorite Son-in-law

That would be Daniel. He really does have that distinction in our family for a couple of reasons. First, he married our daughter, Jennifer, with whom he created a pretty nifty family, and Second, he’s the only son-in-law we have. I suspect that #2 kinda solidifies the title statement but #1 makes the statement a little bit more genuine. In case you have a mind to wonder about our relationship with Daniel, rest your weary heads. We love Daniel. Of the five or six husbands Jennifer considered prior to marrying Daniel, he is by far the best choice. Now I’m compelled to report that Jennifer’s previous possibilities were part of her youth before age 19. Technically, that means her previous considerations really didn’t count. They were folly. Fun, but folly nonetheless. I’m sure Jennifer will raise a couple of eyebrows if she reads this because, though her suitors during high school were numerous, her interest was minimal. I think she had her eye on Daniel for a long time. After all, she was a cheerleader and Daniel was a stellar football player for the St. Helens Lions.

Daniel is the topic of this post because he got older. Yes, he had a birthday. I know, I typically celebrate birthdays on the proper day, but I’d just done Baylee’s and didn’t want to diminish Daniel’s accomplishment by running it on the coattails of Baylee’s B-Day.

So, today, in the quiet confines of my recliner, I deemed it was time to let you know another milestone has passed. Daniel attained the lofty age of 40-something on May 1st, or May Day to many people.

About May Day …

May Day originates from the Pagan festival of Beltane, and falls exactly half a year on from November 1, which also marks various neopagan festivals. The earliest May Day celebrations are thought to have occurred during the Roman era when youths would celebrate the coming of spring with a day of dancing dedicated to the goddess Flora.

I’m pretty sure Daniel’s parents didn’t plan for Daniel to be born on a pagan holiday, but that’s what happened. Thankfully, Daniel bypassed his pagan roots and developed into a rather magnificent man. We’re very proud of him.

For that, and many other reasons too numerous to recount herein, his Mother-in-law and I got him a new burger burner so he could cook for us. He’s good at that.

But, things had to be done first, to make the celebration possible. Just getting the BBQ wasn’t really the end. The patio area had to be rid of leaves, and we had to assemble the BBQ.

Leaves were blown willynilly around the yard by Lydia who has a secret love for power tools. Here she is, before makeup:

And, here she is after getting all cleaned up:

We assembled the BBQ the evening of April 30th, after Daniel went to work. Lydia and I did it and, according to the audience, had I listened more carefully to Lydia during the process, we’d’ve been done a lot sooner. But, I didn’t, so we managed to make the assembly process last deep into the night. It was fun, it was funny, and the audience (Diane and Jennifer) sat watching (laughing) the entire time, making fun of a retired, disabled Navy veteran, and didn’t take one photo. So, there’s really no proof about what either of us did, right or wrong. All we have are the questionable comments from three women who tend to stick together, regardless of the truth. Just sayin’.

The celebration started around 6 pm on the 1st with the arrival of me, and some cousins from Damascus, Oregon. In case you didn’t know, Damascus is near Boring both of which a just a smidge to the east of Portland.

Getting the first load of charcoal.
Smokin’ hot
I mean, really HOT!
Jennifer – the Inside Cook
Daniel – the Outside Cook

Here’re some more photos of the festive occasion:

See! She’s still laughing at me.
Grandma Linda (Daniel’s Mom)
Adam and Me. I tipped my head back so you could enjoy the full expanse of my forehead.
The Pinkston Trio – Ivy, Cora, and Autumn
Alicia – The Pinkston Trio Mom – My Cousin Debbie’s & Roger’s daughter.
Adam – The Pinkston Trio Dad

We all had a great time. Wisely, Diane felt better about staying home, away from crowds so I attended alone. She has a virtual appointment with her doctor on Thursday and doesn’t want to take any chances until she has more information about what her Chest CAT Scan revealed. Please pray for her with me. After she reads this I’ll correct all the errors she finds.

Please stay safe.

Baylee Jean Marie is Eleventeen

Baylee turned 11 today at the stroke of midnight. For years, I’ve told the girls, and other impressionable children, that it’s “Eleventeen”, the trial year for being a teenager. Then they revert back to 12, then 13. So far, they all disagree with me which isn’t a bad thing. I tend to lie to them all the time and leave it to their folks, and Grandma, to straighten things out. That leaves me out of the loop for being responsible. It’s my comfort zone.

Here’s a more recent photo of her frolicking near the Pacific Ocean on the beach where we originally dug her out of the sand after a large storm. We’re not sure where she really came from. That’s the story, anyway. She doesn’t believe that, either.

With the pandemic in full bloom around the world, she’s enjoying an exceptionally long summer vacation with her sisters and recently found out that, even though she didn’t finish the fifth grade, she will be advancing to middle school next school year and partake in all the drama that involves. I’m sure she will do just great as she will have Gilligan in 7th grade to help her through the turmoil of change.

We’re proud of our Bales and look forward to seeing what she grows into over the coming years. At this point in time, and for the past few years, her desire is to be a Doctorteachercop.

Works for me.

Jeran

Today Jeran, our youngest child’s youngest child, is 20 years old. It’s a bit baffling to me that time has passed so quickly. Just a couple of months ago he was a needy little kid and now he’s all mature, a sophomore in college, and well on his way to being a pastor. We couldn’t be more proud of him.

He started out pretty small, and really cute, without a hint of the 6’3″ he has attained, and he’s still growing.

The covid-19 issue has put a halt to his education for now, but he’s home safe for which we’re thankful. With the stay at home dictate, which we have been doing religiously, we don’t get to see him, or his family, as often as we’d like but we’re erring on the side of caution, taking the pandemic seriously.

Last December Jeran came home for Christmas and joined us at a cabin we rented for everyone in Welches. That’s near Mt. Hood, in case you didn’t know. He almost didn’t get to come because he had a serious case of pneumonia and could barely breath, and had a temperature that wouldn’t go away. His doctor OK’d the trip on the condition that they keep a sharp eye on his oxygen level. If it dropped below a certain level he was to be taken directly to the nearest hospital. He was good, drank lots of water, spend virtually all of his time in a recliner (he couldn’t lay down or he would choke). Scary stuff.

Thinking back on he trial during that time sounds suspiciously like coronavirus, doesn’t it? I’ve pointed that out a number of times but am told that’s not what he had. If he had, everyone around him would have been sick: his family, and all of his class mates at school. still, I think that’s what it was. He had it for weeks, another similarity.

Considering our exposure to Jeran’s non-COVID-19 experience in December I think we all actually got it but our immune system saved the day and didn’t react as people are now. Instead, I think we were blessed by Jeran’s presence and gained immunity from what’s going on now. I can’t prove that, of course, but I’m going with the belief that it’s true. Even so, we are all observing the stay at home rules as best we can.

Exceptions are necessary trips to the grocery store which Diane does alone. I offer to go but she won’t let me. I think she’s afraid I’ll talk with someone. Another exception is golf. Doug and I have gone a couple of times and it’s really not a problem. We ride in separate carts which is actually silly because we spend a hour in a car together getting to the golf course. It’s actually OK because I’m not able to hit my ball as accurately as Doug.

I digress. This is about Jeran and now I must add underwear to my pajama ensemble to make me fit for a public appearance as we break the rules a little and go celebrate this momentous event.

I pray that everyone is keeping their distance and staying safe. I have semi-acquaintances in New York, and family in Connecticut so I’m thinking especially good thoughts toward them. Please help me and do the same for your loved ones.

Hunkering Down

Day 1 – Noon

Jerrie sensed a fever flourishing in his body so he coerced Diane into taking his temperature with her brand spanking new thermometer. It’s not one of the new battery powered ones, but old-school that must remain in an orifice for 3 minutes. In case any of you have forgotten, having something stuck under your tongue for three minutes is a really long time.

Diane set a timer on her phone for three minutes to make sure he didn’t fudge, just like she sets a 2-minute timer for him when he brushes his teeth.

Once the alarm signaled the end of the interminable 3 minutes, Diane reached out to remove the thermometer from his body but he semi-slapped her hand away so he could read it first.

It was up to 99.5. Since his normal temp is around 97.”something”, he declared that he did indeed have a temperature. Very unusual. He hasn’t had a temperature above 98 degrees in 20 years. That’s the truth. Honest.

He does not feel like there’s anything wrong other than the tinnitus that screams in his left ear non-stop, day and night. However, considering what’s going on in the world Diane’s going to keep an eye on him for a while.

Day-8 Noonish

The temperature I had was gone on Day-2 so I apparently survived this brief brush with the pandemic, or I was never really sick. We’ll probably never know, and that’s OK. We’re here, and we’re relatively healthy, dealing with the stress associated with being forcefully sequestered in our house.

Frankly, neither Diane nor I are having difficulty with sequestering. We just lounge around in our jammies and watch Hallmark movies all day.

We’re fortunate that we don’t live in a populous area so contact with possible COVID carriers is extremely unlikely. Still, we maintain our distance from each other and wash our hands pretty much every time we touch a doorknob. My hands are almost raw in spots and I’ve been using lots of hand cream to keep them semi-soft. I might just send some to Ron, our Son-in-law’s brother, who lives in Manhattan. Last word, he and his Wife are fine. I’m sure they are busy washing their hands a lot, also.

We pray that all of you who read this are safe. There is hope that we will soon be moving back to some sense of normalcy, but I think everyone understands that it will be a new normal for everyone. Whatever it turns out to be, let’s embrace it and make it work.

Just for fun, here’s the sunset last night:

And, here’s the sunrise this morning:

And, here’s a Happy Cat that I’m going to paint one day:

Coronavirus and Wasting Time.

Day 19 of isolation

Is it really isolation when you do it with 7 other people, 3 dogs and a cat? Yes, it is. All of the humans in the house have strict orders to not touch us, ever, and do not speak in our direction unless they are 10 feet away from us. So far it’s working OK, but the kids are getting rambunctious so it’s only a matter of time before someone gets tipped over the edge. We’ve already decided, as a group, if that happens the first one over will be chucked over the neighbors fence into their goat pen. It won’t be difficult, and they probably won’t mind because they like the goats. Just not sure if they will like living with them and eating their food.

Diane and I are still relatively healthy. Just some age-related stuff going on, but that’s been going on for years. It’s not a problem, just more noticeable now since we spend most of our time reclining, or in our beds, when thoughts are allowed to run wild while Diane fast forwards through the commercials. That’s only with the broadcast stuff, of course, so we toss in a movie once in a while to get a longer period of energy focused on the plot of whatever it is we’re watching. If it’s a Hallmark movie there’s not a lot of focus necessary because everyone knows the guy almost always gets the girl. The only trick with those movies, however, is that sometimes the girl gets the guy. Nice twist.

We’ve been reading a lot, too, but that gets boring after 4-5 hours. I test Diane’s patience once in a while … OK, I test them often … by asking her questions while we’re reading to see how many times I can get her to read the same paragraph over and over. That’s risky business, of course, but I’m not close enough for her to hit me and I can get out of my chair faster than she can should payback appear to involve physical contact. I learned this trick from my big brother Jack. He used to pepper me with questions while I was reading …

“What book are you reading?” … pause

“What’s it about?”… pause

“How many pages are in the book?” …pause

“What page are you on?” … pause

“Who is the author?”… pause

“Where did you get it?” … pause

You get the idea. It doesn’t take long before the target of those questions causes the recipient to escalate the conflict by raising their voice, or stomping out of the room without even a goodbye kiss. If you can focus, just ignore the questions until the perp gets tired of not getting answers.

We’re running out of food so we’re all investigating creative ways to capture and cook rats and squirrels. There are an abundance of them around here. We can hunt squirrels by day, and rats by night. That diet is, of course, a last resort. We’re just educating ourselves in case it becomes necessary. I’m pretty sure the neighbors’ goats, chickens, and ducks will hit the frying pan before we devolve into rat eaters. That’s a guess, of course. Who really knows what will happen when we run out of canned food?

The Littles got calls from their teachers telling them what’s going to happen since school is done for the school year. The youngest ones are getting Chrome Books so they can study on-line with their teachers which is a really good thing. The oldest, 6th grade, hasn’t shared how on-line schooling going to affect her free time but I suspect it will be equally as creative. They are all excited about getting back to learning.

I really try to keep their interest up but for some reason they don’t believe anything I tell them. That could be because whenever they ask me a question I address it like a challenge to include “Arizona” in my answer. It’s really easy …

“Grandpa, where are you and Grandma going?”

“Arizona.”

“Grandpa, where’s Grandma?”

“I think she went to Arizona.”

“Grandpa, have you seen Mom?”

“She said she was going to Arizona.”

“Grandpa, where did you get that?”

“Arizona.”

Their response to each of my answers is, “that’s not true,” or “no you didn’t.” But, they keep asking and I keep giving them the same answers. It passes the time and keeps them from asking more meaningful questions that I probably couldn’t answer correctly.

That’s it for now.

See you later.

Pajamas

I seriously considered providing my personal thoughts about the ongoing pandemic, but common sense cause me to put those thoughts aside. The reason, or course, is because I generally do not take things seriously, and this is a serious matter. Not something to make light of. So, I won’t.

Instead, I’ll share my newfound understanding about when it’s OK to wear pajamas beyond the perimeter of our yard.

Yes, I’ve been wearing my pajamas for a number of days – not the same ones all the time, but various “clean” ones. Until yesterday I was unaware that there was a dress version of pajamas that can be worn anywhere one wishes to go. Prior to this startling information I was perfectly comfortable going pretty much anywhere I had to go. Typically, that means I went to the mail box, an occasional trip to the drive through of a local fast food joint, or just a walk around the perimeter of our yard. You may have already surmised that those examples do not involve close contact with anyone. They were just isolated trips.

Yesterday, however, we went to Jennie’s and Daniel’s home to deliver some items we thought the girls of the house might find useful. As we went out the door Diane asked if I knew I was still in my jammies. I responded in the affirmative and continued to the car. Then she asked me if I was also wearing underwear. I said “no” because I didn’t think underwear were necessary when wearing pajamas. I mean, I thought we were going to Walmart* on the way home.

At this point I received a very specific message that when visiting people one must wear underwear, especially when visiting your adult children. To this point in my life I had been blissfully unaware that wardrobe restrictions of this kind also pertained to old people.

So, I went all the way back to our bedroom, put on clean underwear, went back to the car and was sent right back to the bedroom to put the underwear on under my jammy bottoms as the name implies. It was worth a shot.

Bottom line, it’s really hard to have fun with all this serious stuff going on. I’ll be very glad when it’s over and everything gets back to normal. Diane will be especially glad because as a form of protest against COVID-19, I’ve stopped shaving until it’s gone. Kinda dumb to protest against a virus, I know, but I really don’t like shaving any more and it’s the only thing I could think of at the time.

I seriously hope and pray that all of you are staying safe and healthy.

Another Day in Paradise

Today was another sunny one here at the beach. It got to 65 at one point as we navigated back to camp from Tillamook. We braved the crowds because Diane needed paper towels. Fred Meyer didn’t have any, but Safeway did. She did, however, score some chocolate covered Peeps at Freddies. She also got a small knife sharpener at my request because all the big knives are dull like rocks.

Once we got home I immediately sharpened all those knives and also the one I carry in my pocket. I’ve been whittling a little and found it a bit dull. They all sharpened right up.

Then we took a walk to the beach because the tide’s out and there’s actually one we can walk on. The last few times we’ve been there the tide was in and splashing right up against the rocks with no place to walk.

Crafty people were there ahead of us.

While Diane soaked up the vitamin D, I wandered around looking at likely sticks to whittle, found a few then went back to her log and whittled til I cut my thumb. That signaled the end to whittling because I was getting blood all over my whittling stick. Little cuts are easily remedied because I carry bandaids in my cell phone case just for that reason. I have a stunning variety of them available at all times. But, it was time to return to shelter anyway, so, we went back to the RV.

We had a concert scheduled for our church service this coming Sunday but Governor Brown has banned gatherings of 25 or more, and President Trump trimmed that to 10. I was going to cancel it tomorrow, but the group, New Legacy Project, beat me to it. Their scheduler cancelled all upcoming concert dates for the foreseeable future for this group of talented young men and recalled them to Nashville. It’s sad to cancel, but better to be safe for all concerned. This would have been their fifth visit to our humble little church. If you ever have an opportunity to attend one of their events, they are free, please do. You won’t be disappointed.

Now it’s time for sustenance and a movie. Tonight it’s going to be “My One and Only”. It’s a Renee Zellweger movie and we like her.

Camping & COVID-19

Diane and I have weathering the current COVID-19 outbreak in space C51 at Cape Lookout State Park. We didn’t run here to flee civilization because of our concern about the virus, it just kind of worked out. Diane had this trip planned many weeks ago. We’re six days in on a planned ten day stay. So far we’ve had sun every day. At home it snowed last night. We’re in the right place.

We have been surviving without TV with no deleterious effects. Instead of TV we’ve been reading, mostly, and checking the internet once in a while. The park doesn’t have internet but our cell phones have a tiny little signal that allows us to use the “hot spot” feature, so Diane gets her daily fix of Trump snippets. Her day isn’t complete without at least a couple of those.

We have been watching one movie a day. Yes, that’s on our TV, but doesn’t count because there’s no news, or commercials.

Last night we watched two movies because the first one was so horrendously boring. It was almost 3 hours long and was about the beginning of the CIA. The name is “The Good Shepard”. We don’t recommend it for anyone who doesn’t need a nap.

Yesterday we mosied around the backroads of Pacific City and came upon an entire hill full of Holy Cow Houses. Those houses that, when you first see them, causes one to blurt out “Holy Cow, look at that house!”

Seriously major homes, the vast majority of which appeared vacant. We postulated about that and determined they were all owned by California lottery winners who have other homes all over the place and only use the ones in Pacific Beach when the sun shines and gets the temp above 70 degrees. Whatever the reason, they are quite magnificent. Considering that the development name is Nantucket Shores, it’s possible all those houses are owned by a Rhode Island lottery winner who wishes to spend time, with his enormous family, in another beautiful part of God’s world, while pretending he’s still on that little island in the Atlantic.

Lunch at The Schooner on Netarts Bay – best fish and chips ever. Really. I had a cup of some really good clam chowder and a piece of Diane’s fish.

After lunch we drove to Alderbrook Golf Course, north of Tillamook. It’s a beautiful course with awesome fairways. Diane was excited because there wasn’t anyone playing. But, the guy in the pro shop pointed out that the wind was blowing pretty hard, keeping players away. I told the guy in the pro shop that wind doesn’t bother people who can’t hit the ball straight. Also, if they’re concerned about wind they’d never be happy playing with me and the Peal Boy’s because wind just isn’t a factor for us. Neither is snow or rain.

All the restrictions for COVID-19 are concerning. I’m sure pretty much everyone is getting the message about how important it is to wash one’s hands. At least we hope they are. We’ve enforced that simple heigenic routine with the Littles, and each other, for years. Some of us still don’t get it but they aren’t the ones likely to contract the virus. We older folks are. So, we keep them honest by making them wash their hands pretty much every time they touch anything. We do our best to ensure they understand the possible consequences of not washing their hands before opening the refrigerator, any drawer or cupboard to get eating utensils, or when they cough. All the news about this virus gives us ample opportunities to get their attention and say, “See what happens when you don’t wash!?”

I have photos of houses and “stuff” that I’ll have to add later. The weak signal we have won’t allow me to upload them with this. So, I’ll just send it off without them and work on the A/V aspect later.

Hope everyone is getting through this scary time OK. We’re praying for everyone.

Now I must stop. Diane is prettying up to go shopping at Safeway in Tillamook. Alone. I’m staying home to work on the furnace. It won’t light and Diane doesn’t want to be here when it blows up while I’m working on it.

Wish me luck.