Category Archives: House Work

Home At Last, and Other Stuff

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Yes, we’re home. At last.

After a leisurely transit of I-84, an overnight stay at the Wild Horse Casino in Pendleton, and past the site of the Oil Train Fire in Mosier, we reunited the dogs with a great deal of happy barking. It quickly became annoying because we haven’t heard if for over a week. Once they sensed our displeasure from our repetitive request to stop, they stopped. I suspect, however, they stopped simply because they wanted to do. We had no influence on their decision.

Before stopping at Wild Horse Casino we made a stop in La Grande to get gas and visit our Niece-Niece Maryssa who is attending Eastern Oregon University which, happily, is in La Grande. We had a nice visit sitting in our trailer, near the tennis courts on Sixth Street. It would have been nice if we could have enjoyed lunch together but we had the Big Black Dog (Ziva) and it was too hot to leave her alone in either the trailer or the pickup. As a lunch alternative, and a farewell gesture, we gave her all the frozen food remaining from our trip. I believe that caused a little remorse for all those times she ignored us when she was 6-12 years old. That’s an incentive to bring her food every time we see her. We’re making plans now. Something about strawberries I think.

Pendleton to home was uneventful except for an extremely windy 20 miles or so before exiting the Columbia River Gorge in Troutdale. It’s always windy there. I didn’t worry about it because Diane was driving. If the trailer had tipped over, it wouldn’t have been my fault. Wouldn’t have been her fault, either, but, you know, she was driving.

We got home on Monday, as planned. Then yesterday Diane got up early so she could make it to PDX by 0900 to get Ashlee and her fiancé Mike who flew in from Wisconsin. I couldn’t do it because I had to visit my dentist, Dr. Grim and get my teeth cleaned by Cheryl at 0900. Ashlee is half of a set of twins belonging to Lars & Barbara; Lars belongs to Butch & Margo, our long-time friends who live in Wisconsin. Mike and Ashlee’s flight arrived early so we all got home about the same time. The reason for the visit was for Ashlee to find living accommodations while she attends Pacific University to get her PhD in physical therapy. Mike is a Manufacturing Engineer seeking employment in the greater Portland area.

Today I went golfing with the Peal brothers. Diane insisted. It was a good day for all of us because none of us died out there on the course. I informed Diane of the agreement we golfers have in case one of us bites the big one while out there having all that fun. No matter which hole it happens on, we will finish the round. The two remaining golfers will play best ball for the deceased member who will be strapped into one of the carts we use. I initially thought we would have to drag the non-playing member from hole to hole, but Doug suggested just putting them in one of the open seats. Bungee cords are now part of our golfing equipment to ensure we have enough to hold a body on the cart. Then, once the round is complete, we will call 911 to report the loss then go hold a memorial lunch at Burgerville. If one of the married guys check out, the losing wife will be notified so she can attend the lunch. It’s the right thing to do.

We all made it through our standard nine holes so it was a successful day. I couldn’t attend the lunch that normally follows our golf game because I had to be home in time to take Ozzie to his hair dresser at 1300. I also had to get some drain cleaner for the kitchen sink. It’s been running a bit slow and finally jammed shut this morning. I figured we’d need to wash dishes some time this evening so it was necessary to visit ACE. That’s my first trip to ACE in a couple of weeks which is a modern-day record for me.

The cleaner worked and the sink now drains just fine. I’m sure you are all happy to know that. I can smell the chemical at the top of the basement stairs so the Pro drain cleaner I used may have eaten a hole in one of the drain pipes. I looked around down there but couldn’t find any evidence of a leak but I don’t go down there very often so I don’t view it as a problem. Diane’s washing machine, dryer, and ironing board are down there, however, so will let me know if she discovers something amiss. She has to go to the basement because it’s her job. I’d help but she won’t let me. Apparently that chenille sweater I dried in the dryer 8 years ago, and subsequently extracted most of from the vent filter, ensured I wouldn’t have to do laundry for a long time.

Since I’m not making a lot of sense, and because my right foot hurts, I think I’ll just terminate this. My foot hurts because I have a bout of gout in the large toe. We don’t know why. No doubt it’s something I ate but, since I’ve eaten a lot of “stuff” lately it would be are to pick out one thing that may have caused it. So, I will just continue to limp and eat whatever Diane gives me.

It’s 2000 now, and we haven’t seen Ashlee or Mike all day. We were considering that it might be time to start worrying when Ashlee texted Diane to let her know they were on their way back to St. Helens. That’s a good thing.

Now I’m eating popcorn for supper so I really gotta quit.

Vacuum Cleaners Suck

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Yes, this short post is about vacuum cleaners but, first, I’m compelled to share that I think vacuum cleaners are misnamed. At least in my head. The reason I think that way is because of my brother, Jack, and me to be staunch practitioners of “Correct Speak”. You know, where there is no need to interpret what’s being said because it’s all in the words, exactly as they are presented. That simply means “Vacuum Cleaners” specifically defines a mechanism that, well, cleans vacuum. I know that doesn’t make any sense which is why practitioners of “Correct Speak” generally take great care to construct sentences that actually mean what they say. Logic dictates that a vacuum is already clean so why do we need to clean it? Therefore, since vacuum cleaners really suck, they should be called “Sucking Machines”.

Now, since that’s out of the way, I can get to the meat of this post and report that Diane is the proud owner of a brand new sucking machine. She’s had many over the course of our marriage but never one that elicited such excitement as this new one. It’s a Shark Rotator Professional. The price point was exactly right because Fred Meyer had it on sale for $260, marked down from, $300, but we got it from a local overstock business for $120. The saleslady gave it glowing reports, supporting Diane’s online search for the best unit.

On the way home we stopped at Diane’s Mom’s (Jean’s) house to share the good news, and to ensure that Mom hadn’t fallen down. She hadn’t so all was good and she was interested to see the new machine.

I brought the unit in, plugged it in, and ran it around the living room a bit to see how it worked and we were all surprised to discover dust and debris flying around in the clear canister that collects that stuff. This is significant because Mom has a fairly new Rainbow that she uses religiously every week – Tuesdays, I believe. Cleaning that often with a Rainbow would make one think there wouldn’t be any debris to suck up, but there was. Diane and I were all amazed. Mom, not so much. Seeing that the new machine was able to pull debris from the living room rug that we thought was cleaning enough to eat off of, Diane went to work and cleaned the entire carpet and was delighted beyond measure to capture all that dirt from Mom’s squeaky clean house.

Once we got it home Diane couldn’t wait to get it plugged in so she could do a run through the house and over all the carpets lying around so Ozzie can navigate without walking on a bare floor. The results were astounding, as expected, putting the old top of the line Kenmore Drag Behind Canister to shame. She said that one will be retired once all the dead spiders in the basement are cleaned up because dead spiders will NOT be allowed in the new machine.

Here what it looks like …
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The orange bag contains all the extra attachments that came with it.

Before leaving I must share that I’m also teaching Panzee to drive the RV. Diane has refused to drive it and I need a backup, so Panzee was the obvious choice.

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Remind me tomorrow to tell you about how the new window install went. I have photos of that, too.

Golf, Soccer, Softball, a Winnebago, & Visitors

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Let’s see … what’s been going on. I golfed with JP on February 17th and discovered that I can semi-consistently hit a pitching wedge 100 yards. I can even hit it in the general direction I think I’m aiming. JP can hit a 5-wood about half as far as I can hit the pitching wedge. That’s not bragging, by any means, because I’ve never, ever beaten JP on the golf course. Until today. I beat him by one stroke and I even got a par on one hole. It was a good day.

The new owner of the old 1973 Winnebago called me on February 18th and was obviously at his wit’s end because he couldn’t get it started. Since he was still in St. Helens, I shelved my baseboard project for a moment, one of the remodels I had to do because of pending visitors, and went to see what I could do. Turns out the fully charged battery his friend gave him wasn’t really charged at all. It was dead as a door nail and it just happened to be the battery for the engine and lights. The other battery had juice and worked the 12V house lights just fine. So, he retrieved the battery that he replaced and we discovered it actually had a 12.5 V charge, enough to kick the engine over. We hooked it up, and it did the job. The engine ran just great. My job was done and he was very grateful. I could tell that by the way he drove away.

After getting that little task complete I went back to the house to participate in the scheduled full on field day to clean house for visitors, previously mentioned, this weekend. They aren’t technically visitors because we’re all related in some way. One of them is the Brother-in-law of one of my Sisters-in-law who is also the father of some sort of niece, Maryssa, who was the focus of the visit. There was a lot of college softball going on over the course of February 20, 21, and 22. In the middle of all those games was a soccer match at which Lydia, the daughter of my oldest son’s brother-in-law and his wife, played goalie, or Keeper as the soccer crowd seems to prefer. I won’t burden you with scores but will admit that I had a great time watching all of the games. It was exciting, even the soccer, which previously held no interest for me because I failed to comprehend the rules and, therefore, found it profoundly confusing. I’m learning, however, and now find it very exciting. Softball is always exciting. Maryssa is a freshman at Eastern Oregon University and was, we later discovered, playing while coping with a case of mononucleosis. How fun do you think that was? Still, she got her first college RBI and we got to see it.

I’d tell you what happened yesterday but I really don’t know because I apparently removed a crucial calendar entry that would have provided that information. Guess it will forever be one of those mysteries.

Now I must quit and contemplate how much it’s going to rain tomorrow. The last 5-6 days have been glorious but we knew it wouldn’t last. Thankfully, I was able to squeeze enough gas out of the array of gas containers I found around the house to allow me to mow the front and back yards. Sadly, I didn’t have enough time to mow the lower 40 so it will grow unimpeded until spring at which time it will no doubt be a foot or two tall and will take a couple of days of slow motion mowing to finish.

Also, Diane bought me peanut brittle for being good. I’m going to go eat some. I’ll leave you with a few photos of the family visit and activities.

This is Bob making friends with Ozzie. He works on that every time he visits and Ozzie displayed evidence that he remembered Bob because he didn’t bite him this time.IMG_0137

Wynette and Donna watching the ball game. It was a beautiful day, but really cold. Like 9 degrees, I think. Looking at this makes me wonder why I didn’t realize that Wynette is so much taller than Donna. I think it evens out a little when they stand up.IMG_0138

At Sunday’s game, the first of two, Lydia thought painting her toes would be a good idea. Like I said, it was around 9 degrees with the wind chill factor and she’s barefooted.IMG_0139

Here’s part of the crew between Sunday’s games: Jennifer, Jeran, Cedric, Maryssa, Lydia, and Steffani.IMG_0140

Here I am playing golf today in one of my best T-shirts. Apparently I’m the only one who knew it was “Dress Up Golf Day” because everyone else looked normal. Also, I wanted to point out how all the skin on my face is dripping down my neck into my shirt like frosting on a cake. It’s much worse when I take my hat off.
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MELCA, Wood, Jerry, Work, & Drones

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MELCA Coffee was at 0900. Although I was right on time, I was late. All the other guys must be on Mountain Time. Once again we solved many of the worlds problems, but no one was listening. Everyone knows what MELCA is, right?

Fireplace Mantel is coming along. I glued a couple more pieces on it today, and sanded the top, again. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll be able to put it all together so I can figure out a way to attach it to the wall. My Gorilla Glue seems to be working OK so maybe that’s the solution. That, and some two-sided sticky tape.

Jerry 3 decided that our women should conspire to schedule a group meeting at which we will ingest food of some kind. This is for the group we normally have lunch with about once a month. You know who you are. Hopefully the decision will be made in such a manner that nothing associated with a goat is considered good. Yes, they are cute, generally, but I personally don’t think they taste good.

While I was enjoying coffee this morning, then researching “stuff” this afternoon, Diane was wearing herself out organizing the Big Room In The Basement (BRB). Up until today, it’s been a gathering spot for a variety of things that were never assigned shelf space, or arrived here without warning. Things like that are what comprise a single layer that makes cleaning the floor impossible because we can’t see it. That’s changing now, however. Diane found lots of extra stuff that is going away and we’ve already made arrangements for part of it. The old curtain rod was removed, a new one installed (with new curtains), and the furniture has been rearranged. Doing that opened up access to many more items about which decisions will have to be made. I’m sure that none of you reading this have similar problems. Everything is in the right place, nice and tidy, right? That’s exactly the way our house is in one of those alternate universes I’ve mentioned in the past. I must point out that whenever Diane wanted me to do something, I did it without question. Ask her. I even did some things without asking. Those are the ones that get me into trouble.

Tomorrow the repair guy is paying us a visit to see if he can resurrect our microwave. In Diane’s words, “it’s tits up.” I thought it was just broken but apparently it’s worse than that. So, just in case, I’ve been researching replacements at DISCOUNTMICROWAVESTOREPLACEBROKENONES.COM. They claim to have distribution centers all over the country and can deliver a new microwave to their customers within three hours of placing an order. They use drones, just like Amazon, but bigger.

Footfall is on now so I’m going to quit.

The Garage Door, My iPhone 6, My Glasses, & The Garbage

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Yesterday afternoon I only had two things to remember; put the garbage can, and the recycle can at the street. Technically, I suppose that’s only one thing to remember. Also, technically, neither of them are cans, but it doesn’t sound right if you call them ‘plastics’, ya know? So, they’re cans.

I knew right away I’d missed the garbage man when I frantically rolled the can to the street when I woke at 0710 because the neighbors garbage can lid was upside down, the garbage man’s way of saying, “I was here.” Still, I left it at the street with the plan of hauling it back to the house later in the day, between rain storms. I did get the recycle out on time, so that was good. Still, I got into a minor bit of trouble when I told Diane about my failure.

Technically it was the dogs fault because neither of them woke me at 0530 like normal. Had they done so, I’m sure I could have beat the garbage man to the street. I’ll have to talk with them about that and reinforce it with a piece of cheese.

There are a couple of other reasons I may have failed to remember those important chores that are worthy of mention. First, my iPhone 6 arrived yesterday and it was mandatory that I configure it and test all the functions I’ve been studying for the past 1.5 months. Second, my new glasses arrived from the VA facility that makes them, somewhere in Idaho. Boise, I think. There’s a little difference in the prescription so there was an adjustment period getting used to them. I hardly ran in to anything so it was a successful transition. The main problem is that they have transition lenses that require me to wobble my head around to focus on things because the magic little focus spots are a little off from my old ones.I got gold frames, which Diane doesn’t like on me, so I envision a trip to Costco in the near future to rectify that fashion failure on my part. I only chose them because I liked the nose cushion. It’s comfy.

My new iPhone arrived while I was working on the other garage door. We have two of them. Diane’s has an automatic opener and mine is manual. Everyone should be very proud of me for taking the phone to my desk where I left it, all wrapped up, then went back to work on the door. My task was to attach a new seal to the bottom of the door. It’s kind of a problem because I got the kind that has an extruded aluminum bracket into which one must slide the seal after the bracket is mounted to the bottom of the door. Sounds easy, right. Well, I’m here to tell you it’s far from that. I did Diane’s garage door on Saturday and it about crippled my right hand all over again. The problem is that the rubber part arrives flat and must be formed into a “U” as it’s slid into the bracket channels and this covers the screws quite nicely. Looks good. But, the door must be completely open so the bottom of the door is located at the curve where the door goes horizontal so the bottom is not blocked by the frame in which the door rollers roll. Got it? Even then I had to undo the bottom roller on one side in order to clear the roller frame thing. With a little WD-40 and lots of effort I managed to push, yes, push, the rubber seal across the entire 10 foot span of the door. It was brutal and my right hand wasn’t working very well when I finished, but I got it done, by golly!

So, yesterday I figured I’d make things easier by propping the door open, about chest high, then remove the bottom rollers from BOTH sides thereby allowing me to swing the bottom panel of the door into the garage where I could easily insert the rubber seal. I tied off the bottom rollers to heavy things I found on the garage floor to keep the door spring from coiling up and beating holes in the ceiling after being ripped from my grasp. On one side I used a trailer hitch and the other side had a propane tank attached.

Everything was going nicely until I took the last screw out of the second roller bracket. At that exact moment I realized the error of my thinking as the door pushed the wood clamp I’d used to hold the door up aside as if it wasn’t there and slammed with a resounding crash to the floor. I’m sure it shook houses on both sides of us. On the way down it hit my sprained left wrist which hurt a bit, but I wasn’t concerned about that right then. I was waiting for the pain to race up my left from my left foot that I thought might be trapped under the door, but it never happened. Looking down I was relieved to see that my foot was actually OK.

Right then Diane appeared in the door to the house and calmly asked if I was OK. Having already assessed myself for possible crippling injuries, I assured her that I actually was OK. Then, just to get it out of the way, I told her what had happened, she nodded knowingly, and retreated back into the house after suggesting that I call Jeff for help.

I eventually did call Jeff, after re-learning that a 10 foot wide wood garage door that isn’t hooked to its spring weighs about a ton and a half, far beyond my limited lifting abilities. Once Jeff got here we managed, after a bit of testing, to get the door open and propped up so we could insert the rubber seal and put it all back together. However, noticing a small dent in one of the channels, into which the rubber gasket would slide, closer inspection revealed that nothing was going to slide through it. Ever. The door landed on some “things” that slammed those grooves shut tight in a number of places to the point where I knew the only way to make it neat was to get a new rubber gasket bracket. If I’d been thinking properly I would have reattached the bottom rollers, that are attached to the big spring, but I wasn’t so we didn’t. Instead, we lowered the door to the floor, gently, where it will reside until the new brackets arrive from wherever they’re made.

Last night Diane went to play bunco with her friends so I was left along with strict instructions to not do anything that involved lifting heavy things, or plugging anything into a wall socket. That pretty much limited me to my new iPhone 6 which I opened and got it all set up for use. I worked on the puzzle we have living on a table, too. The pieces are very light so there was no danger of violating the lifting restriction.

Now it’s Tuesday and I’m home alone again because Diane is working today. She didn’t leave me any instructions so I’m a little bit concerned about how I should conduct myself until her return. I’ll figure something out. It’d not raining very hard so maybe I’ll just go out and mow the yard.

Hope you all are doing well.

The News, our House, Ducks, and Ozzie

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 Seems like the most newsworthy “stuff” this past week has been about the Pistorius trial, ISIS “bravery”, and the NFL Commissioner’s bad call. I suspect all of those are a handy way for the media to deflect attention from actually newsworthy “things”. Not being an expert of such matters, I’m not in any kind of position to expand on what those “things” are, but surely there’s something else. Well, there is the pregnant Princess who’s having some pretty terrible morning sickness issues, but I bet there thousands of pregnant ladies in the world experiencing the same terrible malady. Just because they aren’t princess’s doesn’t mean they don’t deserve a little bit of the limelight. Right?

Pistorius is guilty of man slaughter, or the South African equivalent. He shot his girlfriend in the safety of his own home, and should go to jail but probably won’t because he’s missing some parts and was an Olympian. Got it. Let’s move on.

ISIS continues to terrorize the world with its unique display of bravery by beheading the third journalist who had the misfortune of getting captured. In retaliation, the news keeps showing drones blowing up the same two pick up trucks over and over and over. That’ll teach them, don’t you think? I know, there’s lot’s going on that even the news facilities don’t know about but you’d think they could be a little bit more creative with their stock war footage. Maybe they could show something from the Gulf War. Who’d know? Just give us a little variety, OK?

I mean, really, why is it so important that everyone know that NFL front office folks are less than honorable at times? So Rice slugged his wife and only got a 2-game suspension and didn’t spend even one minute in jail. That’s right up there with child-beaters who might wind up with a few months in jail and mandatory anger management counseling. I’ll go out on a limb with the NFL, here, and postulate that Rice is totally guilty, not so much for the deed, but for getting caught. He’s not the only one guilty of this offending activity.

The Princess? Enough said about her. I say leave her alone and let her suffer in peace.

Over the past couple of weeks, or so, Diane and I have been busy painting our home. I may have mentioned this previously, but I don’t care. I’m telling you about it again because it’s a task that’s wearing out my tiny little shoulders and arms as i dangle precariously from the top end of a 12 foot extension ladder extended to about 20 feet. It’s exciting and scary at the same time, kinda like sipping hot and sour soup at a rarely patronized Chinese restaurant in an unfamiliar city. Who knows that kind of outcome either of them will produce? Fortunately, I did not place Diane in the precarious position of having to call 911 to deal with the kind of injuries one incurs when testing the force of gravity from 20 feet up. I didn’t spill any paint, either. That’s the real success. Now all that remains to be painted are the garage doors. They are the only red items left.

Last Monday Ozzie had his teeth cleaned. His breath was pretty horrible from the barnacles growing on his teeth so we, and his Primary Care Doctor, felt it was probably a good idea to get rid of them. During the process on dogs, unlike with people, bad teeth are removed as necessary. Ozzie lost three of them because there was hardly anything left of them as most of the roots had been reabsorbed by his little body. We have them in a little tube and plan to add Ziggy’s tooth so it will make a nice necklace for Oz.

He was at the vet’s office pretty much all day and we picked him up shortly after 3 pm. They gave him some morphine for the pain so he was a little wild-eyed for a while and chose to hold up in his kennel for the remainder of the day. We had pain meds and antibiotics for him, but they were in pill form so the only way he was going to get them was to eat something … out of a bowl. There was absolutely no way I was going to hazard my fingers by sticking them in his mouth to administer a pill. Little as he is, with those tiny little teeth, he bites all the way to the bone.  Since the teeth were now clean and polished, it would have been easier for him to do that. Consequently, he didn’t get his meds for three days because he wouldn’t eat. Apparently he didn’t want to get his nice clean teeth dirty. We tried, of course, but he chose to just sit in his kennel, except for an occasional trip outside, dwindling away to a mere 5-6 lbs, or so.  Through it all he had a cold, wet nose, so figured he was probably OK. Still, I called his PCP and arranged to get liquid versions of his pain meds and antibiotics. He got his first dose last night which was a challenge. This morning he got another dose but I tricked him by not flinching when he showed me his Elvis lip, which he does to warn of imminent attack. Instead, I stuck the little syringe dose thing in his mouth and pressed the plunger. Boy was he surprised. Twice. Now I have to do it again tonight. Hopefully he hasn’t figured out my secret. He actually at food today, too, so we know he’s on the mend.

I only worked outside for a couple of hours this morning then terminated all activity because the temperature soared from an early 53 to 97 or so pretty quickly. I still need to paint some, but it’s hard to do when the paint dries on the roller before there’s time to apply it. Really makes a mess. So, we must wait for a cooler day. It will have to be before Wednesday because it’s supposed to rain that day.

Diane and I watched the Oregon Ducks dominate the Wyoming Cowboys 48-14 earlier. Then she left so I’ve been trapped here in my chair having to watch whatever comes on because she didn’t give me the remote before she departed.

Hope she comes back soon because I’m getting hungry watching all these commercials.

Golf, Baseball, & Thieves

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Yesterday I was forced to participate in a golf tournament at the Wildwood Golf Course which everyone in the country knows is located on the West side of Highway 30 not too far past the truck scales on the way to Portland from Scappoose. Most everyone of importance also knows that Jack & Wynette had their wedding reception in the Wildwood Club House which was located right next to Highway 30. At some point in the future, it mysteriously burned down, the golf course receded back into the forest, lost & forgotten, and was ultimately resurrected and expanded into an 18-hole course that careens through a small valley, and up and down hills. The current owner is, in my opinion, an abject jerk, so I don’t go there often. I may never go there again, for that reason. One person mentioned that he’s a “money whore,” which was confirmed by his willingness to insert walk-on golfers into the midst of the tournament we were involved in. Nice.

The tournament was a version of best ball, and it was gratifying to me that a couple of my balls were deemed best. That just means that I hit my ball better than those in our foursome so everyone was allowed to hit their next shot from that spot. I even made a few pretty good chip shots onto the green. My foursome was composed of Doug & Jim, high school classmates, and George, a person none of us had ever met until tee time. All in all, it was a good day.

On the way home I followed Doug home so I could check Carolyn’s computer to see why her Gmail wouldn’t appear. She wasn’t there when we arrived, but her computer was energized so I hit a few keys, clicked the Gmail icon and it popped up quite smartly. When Doug saw this he went, “Hmmm. She must have figured it out.” Then we sat in the living room and visited for a while. Then I went home to play in the dirt for a while before cleaning up to attend Lydia’s soccer game.

Before getting dirty, I took my mid day pills. Shortly thereafter, we went to Diane’s Mom’s, Jean’s, house for a visit where I promptly fell asleep. Then we went to the soccer game which wound up in a 2-2 tie. They played against the 14U rec league team and Lydia played goalie the whole game. Since it was a practice game, and most of those on the 14U team are in-coming St. Helens freshmen this year, the goalies switched sides at half time. The second half Lydia had to block against the varsity team and that’s when she gave up the two goals. But, she blocked about 20 shots. She did good.

Back at home, I had a hard time staying awake so decided to go to bed. It was then I discovered that I had taken my sleeping pill, the dreaded Ambien, somewhere around 3 pm. So, the erratic behavior Diane witnessed was totally not my fault. I slept through the night anyway, which surprised me.

This morning I got back into my morning nap routine and didn’t go out to get dirty and sweaty until 10 am or so. Consequently, I only got about 4 hours in before it was deemed time to eat lunch. We had Taco Bell tacos, always a favorite.

While writing this, I got a text from brother Jack, who is in Arizona with his first wife at this time, watching Sage pitch against a California team at the Cincinnati Reds training field in Phoenix. Sage, as you may all recall, is Maryssa’s boyfriend who is going to play for the North Carolina Tarheels after he graduates from high school next year. He’s a talent to watch. Click his name to check him out – Sage Diehm. A little more research revealed that Sage is the first Idaho baseball player ever recruited by North Carolina. Last text I got from Jack indicated that one of Sage’s teammates had hit a triple, driving in one run so it was 1-0. Nothing since so I have no idea what’s going on now. The suspense is killing me, but I’m not going to beg for an update. Nope. Just not going to do it.

I’m going to have to go rent a large piece of equipment from Don’s Rental so I can move some dirt around a little, leveling the area next to garage in preparation of installing a load of gravel that doesn’t squish up when a car drives over it. That’s wheat we have right now is squishy rocks. They are all round, which was intentional, to allow for good drainage into the pipe I installed some time back. Now I want to park something on it, like one of the old motor homes, or my truck, and need non-squishy gravel so it will remain level. To get the equipment home means I must spend a bit of time trouble shooting my truck to find out which ignition wire I dislodged the last time I drove it so I can get it started. I’ve already cleared this event as one that isn’t technically “working outside” since I’ll be inside the truck, so I’m good to go. Just need to work up a little more motivation. Might even see about getting the old ’73 RV fired up. Or not.

You may have heard about the crime spree going on around town these last few months. Thieves are going around during the day, knocking on doors so see who’s home. Those who aren’t get robbed. Those who are home are asked questions about someone they are looking for, wondering if they are inside. Last I heard, about 60 homes had been robbed. Sadly, the spree has extended to our quiet little dead-end street. Since we have Panzee, a large barking dog who greets family, friends, and strangers with the same intimidating welcome, I doubt seriously if anyone would be motivated to break into the house in our absence. But, you just never know. To be on the safe side, we decided it would probably be a good idea to lock all the doors, to everything, when we leave. In the past we’ve failed to do that many times.

So, any of you who may be compelled to visit our house when we’re aware be forewarned that Panzee, Breezie, and Ozzie have been training as a team to take down anyone they don’t know. It will work like this … you enter the house, via any access, and Panzee will make a concerted effort to rip your testicles off while Breezie takes care of your eyelids. Oz will gnarl his way around your ankles, severing your Achilles tendon, allowing it to snap up into the calf of your leg accompanied by an incredible amount of mind-numbing pain, ensuring you cannot flee the scene. In the unlikely event you are of the female persuasion, Panzee will go for your neck and face. If you have large breasts, you may want to wear a really tight sports bra because they’ll probably get in her way. Breezie’s and Oz’s missions do not change. I do not feel there’s a need to post this information outside the house because the dogs will make their presence known at the first hint of a foreign presence.

In the event you are still compelled to pay us a visit, please ensure you have the name of your next of kin somewhere on your body. Since the back of your shoulders probably will remain undisturbed, it would be a great place to tattoo that information. Alternatively, if you are opposed to tattoos, please have your partner in crime use a permanent black marker to help you write this information on the inside band of your underwear. If you don’t wear underwear, the waistband of your pants will suffice.

Better yet, just ensure you have proper ID on entry.

Good luck.

Now I must quit for today and go outside, by request, and climb to the top of a 24′ extension ladder to replace one of our outside security lights.

Parades, Relatives, & Injuries

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We watched an episode of “Black Box” the other day to see if it’s something we’d find interesting while all the shows we REALLY like are on hiatus for the summer. We decided it wasn’t a show we would watch with regularity, but one of us came away with new-found knowledge that made them believe I was, and always have been, a Confabulator.  That is me, of course, a person who practices Confabulation. I can hardly deny the label since I readily share that not much I say, or write, can honestly be viewed in a serious manner. Also, I kinda like the way the word rolls of my tongue … it’s just one of those words that’s fun to say.

Here’s a question for you … when relatives come to visit are they considered “company”? I ask because whenever we have company it’s necessary for us to clean parts of the house they will probably never see, but you just never know. With relatives, however, they can show up any time so there might not be time to clean. Then, there are relatives who make it known that they will be arriving on a specific date which casts them in to the role of company. It’s very confusing and I think there should be some sort of rule about how much effort people should put into making company comfortable. Complicating this issue is when seniority seeps into the equation. Should lower ranking relatives receive the same kind of attention as high-ranking ones? Something to ponder …

A couple of days ago it was raining so I wasn’t allowed to work outdoors. Instead, I went downstairs to reacquaint myself with various aspects of my shop area. It’s been neglected for a while … well, since I dismantled half my work bench … and needed some attention. I also needed to look things over to see if I remembered where some of my favorite, though rarely used, tools currently reside. It’s a known fact that tools move around all by themselves when ignored for a certain amount of time.

It took me a while to get started because, as is my nature, I couldn’t help but just stand in the middle of everything, looking around, trying to devise a plan that made sense. I do this all the time and it only bothers me a little bit. After a few minutes of staring at “stuff”, I give up and just start moving things around in a Zen kind of way, seeking satisfaction in locating things from one place to another until it just feels right. My ultimate goal was to get the floor clear so I could clean it up a little. Most of it was just sawdust and tiny bits of wood, one of which had retained a nail that used to attach it to another piece of wood. By the time I discovered that last piece, most of the floor was clean so I was able to call a temporary halt to the proceedings after pulling it out of the bottom of my left shoe. Even though I was wearing my comfy foam-soled shoes for safety, the nail penetrated all the way through into that crease where the ball of my foot turns into my big toe. It hurt a lot and caused me to immediately halt the downward pressure of my left foot, an act that would normally cause me to tumble. Oddly, this time I retained my vertical stance and was able to extract the offending nail with relative ease while standing on one leg. I know. You find that hard to believe. Me on one leg. But, I did it.

Then I limped upstairs to find a source of brighter light so I could assess the injury. Diane caught me before I got to a chair and said, in a manner that might make one feel as though they do stuff like that all the time, “what did you do now?”

I said, “I stepped on a nail.”

She said, “do you need a tetanus shot?”

I said, “no” because I think they last for about 10 years and I know, for sure, I’ve had about 5 of them in the last 10. I should be free of the fear of tetanus for the rest of my life.

“OK, she said,” lets see it. I removed my shoe and searched my new white sock fo signs of blood, but it was clean. Taking the sock off, I searched the area of penetration but couldn’t see anything that could possibly cause the amount of pain I felt on first contact.

“Squeeze it,” she said, so I did. After a bit of time, a tiny drop of blood was produced. It was hardly worth the effort. Still, it was necessary to install a small band aid to ensure I didn’t get blood on any of the numerous rugs scattered about the house. At this very moment, even though it’s been a few days, it’s very uncomfortable. It feels like part of my sock is wrinkled up under my toes, even when I’m barefoot.

After getting my bandage, I went back to work, relocating things from the floor to the top of my unfinished work bench in an effort to create some space on the floor so I could move around without shuffling my feet. Once that was done, I went to work relocating some large boards that were leaning against the front of my table saw. To do this required that I bend at the waist a bit, just enough to move my forehead into a nicely cut 45 bevel on a piece of the old mahogany baseboard laying on top of my table saw. Since I’ve had lots of experience with injuries of this type, I knew it hurt enough that I should apply immediate pressure to ensure I didn’t get blood in my eyes. Thankfully, Diane was in the room next to me, so I didn’t have to go seek a mirror to asses the extent of the damage. I just went to her and, as soon as she completed her customary eye roll, removed my hand and asked it if was bleeding. It was, but not as badly as I feared. There was blood, but from more of a scrape instead of a cut. It didn’t even need a band aid, but it got a bit of antibiotic salve which stings, by the way, when it melts and runs into your eye. Blood doesn’t sting at all.

Today I participated in the Scappoose Summerfest parade in, of all places, Scappoose. I was one of 10 flag bearers who led the parade directly behind the first police vehicle on the mile long parade route. I wore my American Legion hat, but could have just as easily worn my VFW hat because the flag bearers were a combination of both groups. I waited my turn and took the last flag available, which turned out to be the Navy flag. I found that interesting. Leading the parade were the American Flag, the POW Flag, and the Oregon State Flag. Behind them we remaining seven toted, from left to right, the VFW Flag, Coast Guard, Air Force, Army, Marine, Navy, and American Legion Flags. One of the younger guys with really long legs kept a verbal cadence going, but some of the shorter vets had a hard time stepping out as far as he did. Consequently, some of us got out of step once in a while. We made it to the end, however, and deemed it to be a good day’s work. It was fun being up front like that, and seeing the respect displayed to us and to the flags. Directly behind us flag bearers was a trailer full of local vets being pulled by Junior’s nice red Bronco, top down, even though it rained a bit.

On the way home I got a call from our friend Tom and learned that all is well in Hillsboro. That’s always good news. He said Linda is spending an inordinate amount of time on her feet because she’s so busy cutting hair so I might have to think twice about adding to her burden by choosing her as my new barber. Mine left town. The last haircut I had was at Camp Pendleton a few months ago. Diane thinks it’s time for another one.

Now I must stop and help search for the lost “suck it” bag. That’s the one you can put a duvet in and suck all the air out with a vacuum cleaner to make it take up less space. Neither of us have any idea where that bag went, however.

Plus, not having a clear definition of what status lower ranking visiting relatives have, in the way of special treatment, we have to stick to the current norm and put clean sheets on all the beds, paint a room or two, and power wash all the sidewalks. That must all be done today, if it’s going to get done, because they are arriving tomorrow.

Later …

Flags for Vets, Small World Stuff, & Chinese Food

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Here it is, Memorial Day weekend already! Boy do the days whiz by faster and faster when one isn’t paying attention. Thankfully, I belong to a number of public service and military organizations that keep track of those things for me, reminding me via emails and phone calls that it’s time to put up the flags again. All of those people involved know I need that kind of reminding. Some go to the extremes of telling Diane because they, for sure, know I’ll show up. She never forgets stuff like that.

The American Legion, Post 42, is one of the groups I work with. We support the veteran community in a variety of ways but the most humbling, to me, is when we place American flags on the graves of our fallen Military Veterans on holidays like this one. We go out in groups of two, or three, sometimes accompanied by a Boy Scout, with a list, the flags, and a device to poke a hole where the flag needs to go. We don’t rush, but with a large group an amazing number of flags can be placed in short order.

The first effort took place on Friday morning at the Yankton Cemetery out on Pittsburgh Road. There are actually two cemeteries there, on either side of the road, one really old, and the other just old. Many of the birthdays go back to the mid 1800’s and we put flags on many WW-I vet’s graves. My helper during this evolution was a young boy whose grandfather is one of the scout leaders. About mid-point in our efforts he decided the flag hole poker would make a good javelin. We had a talk and finished our assignment.

Yesterday morning we placed flags at Bethany Memorial Cemetery in Warren, next to our church. During this session, Roger, Bill and I went together. I was in charge of the list, Bill was the poker, and Roger placed the flags.

As we made the rounds I pointed out those too whom my lovely bride is related. She was raised in Warren and I’ve always contended that most of the people in Warren are related and that was revealed to Roger and Bill and we progressed. It’s quite amazing to see the connections to Diane and they were duly impressed.

After finishing our flags we stopped to visit with an older couple who were cleaning up their relatives’ stones. Names were exchanged, which I promptly forgot, but when I brought up my theory about everyone in Warren being related, and that Diane is related to the Kallberg and West families.

Upon hearing this, the lady said, “Mel!” to which I replied, “yes, Mel West is my wife’s uncle. Did you know his brother, Gib, who was the local state cop a long time ago?”

“No,” she said, “but I remember Judge Kallberg.”

“It’s Judge Kalbearer,” I replied, “not Kallberg.”

“Oh,” she said, “that’s right.”

“I know that’s true,” I added, “because my brother’s wife worked for him her entire career.”

“Wynette,” she exclaimed! “I know her!”

“Jack!” said her husband. “I worked with him at the Deer Island chemical plant for years.”

“Hmmm,” said I, as I turned to my friends. “See, we’re all related. Well, maybe not all related to each other, as in real relatives, but related in some way.”

Then the guy said, “DeLonais.”

“That’s my Father-in-law,” I exclaimed! “I know him! Mel DeLonais!”

“Jean,” the lady said. “Isn’t his wife Jean?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, relieved that this was all finally coming out into the open.

With a solid sigh, we bid them adieu, and began the trek back to our respective vehicles. On the way we had a very clear view of the entire cemetery festooned with flowers and flags. It always amazes me how many flags there are. It’s actually a very beautiful and moving sight, knowing there were so many who served their county over the years.

Back at the truck, which I drove to the cemetery, something I didn’t mention previously, I noticed that the headlights were still on so I immediately invoked the emergency rule about no one leaving until I discovered if I could, or not, get the truck started. Before trying, however, I simply turned the lights off and let it rest while we all talked about pretty much everything in the world.

It was good to solve the “things’ that we perceive to be wrong with the world. If only people would listen to us.

After all that ‘solving’ activity, I went home. When I arrived I found Diane standing in the garage, tapping her duster in the palm of her left hand, and was immediately directed to get the vacuum cleaner. Apparently we were going to conduct a good old navy field day.

Then she said hello and administered to me the obligatory greeting kiss, which is the same as the obligatory parting kiss, but different.

I couldn’t find the vacuum cleaner in its customary parking spot in the garage until Diane pointed it out. It was, of course, in plain sight. I took it in the living room and was told to move all the furniture away from the walls so I could suck up the bad stuff gathered there. I did as directed and did such a good job that the furniture moving evolution escalated to the point where everything was moved to a new location. We do this once or twice a year and I’m OK with it because it’s a far better alternative to either moving or purchasing new furniture. Just putting it in a different spot in the living room serves the purpose of making it look like new. Doesn’t cost anything, either. Just a little sweat and a few strained muscles.

We ended yesterday evening by selecting our new places to sit in the new arrangement. This is an important task because it determines where we will be located while eating pretty much every meal. It’s got to be the right angle so we can see each other, our food trays, and the TV without straining our eyes.

This morning I was forced awake by Ozzie around 0600. I sense he had been trying to wake me for a while because he was pretty active. He was happy to get out where he and Panzee made a mad dash to the yard, did their thing, then quickly returned to the back door seeking admittance so they could consume their treasured pouch food. Then I assumed my prone position on the couch recliner and promptly went back to sleep until Diane woke me around 0945 asking if I was staying home or going to church. I chose to stay home.

I did absolutely nothing for the next 3 hours.

After church was over, Diane returned home with her Mom, Jean, and two bags of Safeway Deli Chinese food for lunch. It was awesome. There was enough left over for Mom to take home for lunch tomorrow.

Then Jennifer, Cedric, Lydia, and Jeran arrived for a visit. Well, everyone but Lydia was there for a visit.  Lydia needed to use the computer to work on some school tasks. The rest of us visited.

Now it’s late afternoon, and we’re waiting for Jack and Wynette to drop by for a visit. That will be entertaining.

It always is.

Vegetable Soup, Computers, and PT

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Last Thursday Diane made the absolutely best Vegetable Soup I’ve ever had the pleasure of ingesting. It was so good that I ate two big bowls full. I also ate two pieces of toast with each bowl. Like normal, I asked her if she used a recipe and she said, “No.” Then I asked her if she could recreate this masterpiece and she said, “I don’t know.” These are pretty standard answers for those questions because Diane improvises most everything she cooks, and she doesn’t taste anything while she’s doing it. I’m the taster.

Now, having said all of that, I gotta tell you that she’s never given me a bad meal. They are all good, and it’s exciting because we can have the same meal multiple times in a row and they are all different. Take Sloppy Joe’s, for instance. Or Meat Loaf. Or Beef Stew. In subtle ways, they are different every time which always gives us at least one topic for dinner conversation … what’s different about this version? Always good, and always fun.

The soup? Including the three dishes mentioned above, it’s joined their ranks as one of my favorites. Now I have four of them. Life is good.

While the soup was cooking, I spent some time visiting with the MELCA guys over coffee at the Kozy Korner. Like normal, it was an eventful visit where we once again solved many of the world’s problems. Sadly, attempts to notify the appropriate authorities with these solutions were met with a disagreeable level of snickering and other forms of  degrading noises, so we ceased our efforts.

Then we had some more coffee.

The rest of Thursday was a blur of un-memorable activity of one sort or another.

Friday morning I had a date with Pam’s computer because it had issues. It was a new one for me so, therefore, a challenge. I spent a couple of hours fiddling with it at her house and couldn’t resolve it so disconnected it and took it to the car so I could dismantle it at my house.

Then I went to Physical Therapy where Derek & Patrick teamed up on me to bend my right arm into positions I don’t normally bend it. The reason I don’t is because it hurts. For that reason, over the years, I discovered ways to do things, like comb my hair, without using the offending muscles. As a result, over those very same years, the offending muscle has lost it’s ability do the things muscles normally do. Like, move my arm in a specific direction. Now, in order to please my doctor, and the physical therapists she unleaded upon me, I find it necessary to work on resurrecting the offending muscle. The good news is that with a little bit of manipulation, Derek and Patrick were able to improve the function indicating there’s hope we can regain use of the muscle. I’d tell you which muscle it is, but I have no idea which one it is. All I know is it’s the one that doesn’t work when I hook a large yellow rubber band to a door knob and attempt to stretch it while keeping my elbow next to my body. I face the door with the doorknob on my left, my right forearm sticking straight out from my body, then moving my arm to the right, away from my belly button. That part doesn’t hurt, it just doesn’t work. I guess making it work will help resolve the pain problems. We’ll see how that goes.

After returning home, it became imperative that we rearrange all of the furniture in the living room. It was imperative because it’s what Diane wanted to do. Now the living room has a totally different, open look to it. But, it still has too much furniture in it, so there will be another evolution in the near future. I will be on alert.

Yesterday evening I attended my monthly American Legion meeting at the Moose Club on Old Portland Road in Warren. I know you probably don’t care where it’s at but I was compelled to add that bit of information. Now you know.

Since I didn’t have time to eat supper before rushing off to my meeting, I was hungry. Thankfully Diane had mixed up some tuna for a sandwich and there was enough left for me to have half a sandwich. She doesn’t use relish when making tuna salad, so I mixed some in the remaining tuna and slathered it on a piece of bread. On the way to my chair I felt it would be a good idea to wrap the sandwich in a paper towel to keep from dropping bits on the carpet. That’s a  sure way to get into huge trouble in this house. Just ask Diane because it’s her rule.

I was near the counter top, a couple of steps away from the roll of paper towels, but there was one laying right there in front of me. Grabbing it, I wrapped it around my sandwich and sat down to eat it while we watched whatever Diane was watching on TV. As I was working my way through the sandwich, folding the towel out of the way, I noticed the paper towel had an odd texture. When the sandwich was gone, I folded the towel in half and wiped the residue from my lips. It was then that I detected a distinctly un-paper towel like aroma that caused me to give it a closer look.

There were some dark spots on it which, upon closer examination, revealed themselves to be spots of dust. Then I rechecked the towel’s texture and everything started clicking with regard to all the clues I had received.

Turns out the paper towel I grabbed was really a Swiffer sheet that Diane had used to dust all the furniture in the living room as we put it back in place. Then she conveniently tossed on the counter instead of into the trash.

After discovering what I had wrapped my sandwich in, I got the distinct taste of dust and, perhaps, Pledge, in my mouth that kind of ruined the sandwich for me. So I ate an apple.

I think she left it there on purpose to see what would happen.

Either that, or she knew the bread was dusty.