Dunsmuir to Naval Air Station Lemoore

Posted on April 26, 2016 by Jerrie Cate

The title is our current location, the one we attained on the long drive from Dunsmuir. Driving tasks were shared, which is new for our trips. We’ve established a new pattern where Diane starts us off, I drive the middle, and she ends it. Works just great. I drove for 2 hours and 4 minutes. She drove the other 5. Doesn’t seem fair, I know, but that’s way better than her driving all 7 of them, which she’s been known to do. It’s nice to know that she trusts me now.

While in Dunsmuir we had time to wander around a bit and learned that there’s way more to the place than the little bit one sees while flying by on the freeway. It’s an old town which we confirmed by visiting the local cemetery. We do that once in a while because we find it very interesting. I even took photos, like normal. The three headstones shown captured my interest the most. The first one because it’s a military stone commemorating a gentleman who was in the Indian Wars. Never seen one of those before. The older two were important to me because they were obviously hand-made and didn’t have dates. Just the names Pa and Ma Rafferty.

Then this church jumped up in front of us and demanded a photo of its own. Really nice stone work. Beautiful.

One of the most anticipated portions of this trip was when we went by Shasta Lake. The last few times we’ve been this way, the lake has been nearly empty. We were happy to see that it was full, once again.

I tried taking a photo when we crossed the bridge, but that didn’t work out very well. So, Diane drove down to the moorage on the other side, something we’ve never done before. It was good to see the recovery up close and personal.

Somewhere along the line, noonish I think, we stopped to eat brunch. I found a place using my iPad that looked promising and that’s where we went. It was a country-style place where everything is home-made on site. Nice. I think they shipped the eggs in from someplace because we couldn’t hear any chicken noises. Same for the bacon … no pig noises. There was, however, a cow out back. I think.

Anyway, we both had omelets and fried potatoes with non-noutrishonal white bread toast. It’s our favorite. While eating, Diane saw a guy digging around in the garbage for something to eat. Sitting there with a nice meal in front of us required that we take action. I went out and introduced myself and saw that he was articulate and didn’t appear to be incapacitated. I asked if I could buy him a meal and he said that would be great. I escorted him inside and turned him over to the hostess, then gave him $20 so he could get whatever he wanted. He chose to sit by himself and ordered a huge order of biscuits and gravy. Satisfied that he wasn’t going to bolt and spend the money on something less healthy, I left him alone. He said his name is John and he’s from Longview, Washington.

Figure the odds of that. We’re from St. Helens, Oregon, 800+ miles from home and John is from Longview which is only about 15 miles away from our home. Diane and I call these chance meetings “God Moments” because we feel we are led to moments in time where we have a chance to make a good decision. It’s gratifying to make the right one.

Getting John fed allowed me to return to Diane and enjoy my Denver omelet.

And Diane got a good cup of coffee …

Now we’re enjoying our stop at NAS Lemoore. When we arrived the fighter jets were landing and taking off, making lots of noise. That was going on when Diane called her Mom to relate our day. She had to stop a few times because she couldn’t hear and I asked if I should call the front desk and complain about the noise. She didn’t think it would be a good idea, considering where we were and all.

I could only agree. Then we ate soup and called it a night.

OK, I lied …

Posted on January 10, 2016 by Jerrie Cate

What’s new, huh? My last post was sent in a moment of weakness when I was feeling a little low about something inconsequential, like a pending doctor’s appointment, or something like that where the potential for terrible news was possible. I did have a few doctor’s appointments overt he past few weeks, but I wasn’t concerned about any of them because I typically not concerned about anything at all. I’m Mr. Stress Free about everything. Really, I am. Ask anyone.

I don’t worry about ISIS, which, by the way, I choose to pronounce “is is” instead of “ice iss” just for fun. World events seem to have a way of evening out in the long run, kinda like the stock market, if you just leave things alone. That, and there’s always Karma to fix the wrongs in the world.

For that same reason, I’m not even a little bit concerned about the upcoming presidential election because I figure things will be very interesting no matter who gets into office. I also feel that things won’t change much regardless of who wins.

I do feel, however, that if Trump somehow wins we will revert to a society where “Political Correctness” will become a thing of the past. It will be OK to function without worrying about whether of not all your filters are functioning properly. That’s my perfect world, as most of you might have guessed. I have a hard time applying filters to my words or actions. Life’s way more fun that way. Ask Donald.

If any of the other candidates win it will be business as usual because they’re all career politicians. Those should be prohibited, disallowed, against the law. It should be six-year terms max then it’s time to leave, not rally for another term.

I don’t think there should be an age limit on any positions, either. I figure if a person can either ride a bike, or roller skate, they qualify. If they can do both, better yet.

All office holders should write their own speeches or, like Donald, just share whatever is on their mind at the time in response to any question. It’s just more fun that way.

Strictly my opinion, of course.

Also, to stay in line with my normal conduct, I’m not going to edit the above except to correct spelling errors this program detects. It is what it is. I might read it again in a couple of days, or next week. Maybe. If there is anything too outrageous, I trust those who read it to let me know so I can consider fixing it.

On the fun side of life, I’ve been golfing twice this year already. Junior and I went out on January 1st, and again last Friday, the 8th. I’m happy to say that I did pretty well both times. Our plan is to continue going out once a week, weather permitting, until one of us dies. Now that’s a commitment. Doug was unable to join us because he’s still training his new fake knee and it’s proving to be a difficult process. So, everyone send Doug good thoughts to help get him through the healing process.

Me and Junior ready to tee off.

This was our view looking back on the 5th fairway. Mt. St. Helens looks good.This is what happened two days later.

Another fun day was last Thursday when Cedric asked me to go with him and his Dad to the Navy recruiter. It appealed to me because the last time I went to a Navy recruiter was in 1962. I thought it would be interesting to see what’s changed. I say that as if to indicate I can remember that last visit. Not likely, but I can guess.

The recruiters we met were great in all respects and put Cedric at ease right away and made it a really good experience. All I did was shoot the breeze with them and share a few stories of what it was like being in the real Navy all those years ago. It was a fun visit, and Cedric is on the way to being a US Navy Sailor. The tradition continues. To expand on that a bit, Lydia is working through the process of applying for an appointment to the Naval Academy. Nothing firm there, yet, but I’m looking forward to that, too.

I hope everyone is enjoying the new year as much as I am.

So far it’s pretty good.

IRS Threats, Injuries, & Church Council

Posted on February 10, 2015 by Jerrie Cate

Just learned that the IRS is filing charges against me for some reason. They left a message telling me to call 360-363-5925 and I did but all I get is a busy signal. If any of you are interested in keeping me out of jail, please call this number until you get an answer and let them know that I’m sitting here shaking in my boots waiting for them to show up at my door.

Fell down again this evening in an apparent attempt by nature, or karma, to even things out, giving me injuries on both sides of my body. But, reflexes intervened and ensured that new injuries were added to the already damaged left side. This time I twisted my left knee, sprained my left ankle, and added to the complexity of pain of my left arm. That’s two. Thankfully I’ll only have to endure this one more time to fulfill the rule of threes. With luck I’ll continue without actually breaking anything.

What fun.

That’s as far as I got yesterday because I had to drive Lydia to soccer practice in Hillsboro and didn’t get home until 9:30 pm. Bedtime, normally, but we stayed up until almost midnight anyway. Gotta wonder why we do that when we know we feel and sleep better when we go to bed earlier. Old age, I guess.

Now Tuesday is almost a memory and I bet everyone is just itching at the bit to find out what kind of injury I sustained with the last of my three events. Well, even though I spent a considerable amount of time on a ladder, with my sore knee, hip, ankle, wrist, and shoulders, installing the new garage door opener, I failed to fall even one time. I didn’t even slip. Probably because I was being super careful to avoid a possible broken bone. Then, shortly, before finishing my task, which was successful, by the way, because it works, Diane came into the garage and told me I could relax about the third event because she just had it for me. She tripped over the big dog on the porch and slammed herself into the door jamb. So, she’s going to have marks tomorrow and sore shoulders for sure. I don’t think there are many husbands out there whose current spouse would be willing to take one like that for them. I’m particularly blessed for sure.

Now I must assemble my paperwork for tonight’s meeting and have something to eat. Maybe that half of a baguette I bought yesterday. It should still be good. And some cheese.

Hope all is well with all of you.

Church, Sizzler, & Backroads

Posted on February 8, 2015 by Jerrie Cate

Today before pastor started our service he asked those in attendance what they could remember they were told as youngsters that stuck with them through the years as good advice. I had a really hard time holding on to mine while others shared things like, “a job worth doing is worth doing right”, “no matter where you go, there you are” (a little bit of Buckaroo Banzai influence I suspect), “too many cooks spoil the broth”, “a bad day fishing is better than a good day working”, “actions speak louder than words”, things like that. Then there was a lengthy pause leaving us with dead air, and I hate that. When it happens it seems that I’m always the one who winds up filling in that space and it happened again this morning, much to Diane’s dismay, when I shared “don’t eat yellow snow”.

After the noise of everyone’s head swiveling in my direction, the silence descended once again for a moment, then Pastor quickly moved on to the next item in the bulletin. It may have been communion, but I’m not sure. The rest of the service went just fine but Karma caught up to me out by the mower shed while I was walking around waiting for Diane and her Mom, Jean. There’s a short ramp leading up to the doors and I stepped on it. Normally that’s not a problem, but it’s been raining squirrels and chipmunks lately so it was wet and very slippery, something I remembered was true when my foot was about an inch from the surface. By that time, of course, my body was committed to taking that step so I prepared as best I could for the excitement of the fall.

When my foot slipped I went into slow motion mode, analyzing everything around me to ensure there were no sharp objects waiting to penetrate my normally waterproof exterior, then I looked for a likely spot to place my left hand in such a manner that my wrist wouldn’t snap in half. I found that spot OK, but my balance was a bit off so after making land fall I was poised over the ramp a little too far and could not keep myself from finally sitting on it with my next to last pair of nice Dockers. It was a slimy mess, a lot like something that might have come from an ox’s nose.

Since I didn’t hear anything snap, or crack, I knew it would be bet if I regained a vertical stance because I knew the pain was coming. Then I ran to wash my hands warning Diane, as I passed her on the basement steps on my way to the kitchen sink, that I was going to be in severe pain tomorrow. Then I had her look at the back of my pants to see what kind of damage they had suffered, but she said they looked fine. Then I took a towel and wiped all the gunk from my rear and showed her what she’d missed. Can’t blame her really, because my Dockers are dark brown as was the stuff I sat in.

I took the towel to the Buick so sit on when we left because I didn’t want to mess up the seat, then we departed on a scheduled trip to Sizzler, and an impromptu trip down the Washington side of the Columbia River to see what St. Helens looked like to the people who lived over there. While at Sizzler I ate eight chicken wings two chicken legs a modest salad and a soup bowel full of ice cream. Substantial, but not a record because I’m working on portion control.

Although the I-5 freeway would have made the trip much faster, I sat in the back with my iPad giving left/right directions as I studied our location on Google Maps. The goal was to keep us off the freeway as we made the 20+ mile trip from Longview to Woodland and I did a remarkable job. I know that’s true because both Diane and Mom said so. It was a really nice trip on a whole bunch of roads that none of us had ever travelled before.

Then we went back home to rescue the dogs, dropping Mom at her house on the way. Here’s what the rain has done to Milton Creek that normally runs peacefully through her back yard …

You may remember that it looked like this not long ago …That’s Baylee, Jerrie, and Gilligan, in case you forgot.

Once home we quickly shifted into our pajamas and watched the last quarter of the Blazer game against the Houston Rockets. Blazers won handily.

Now I must go to bed and get to sleep as the pain on my left side has begun. Tomorrow is going to be brutal.

Beer Butt Chickens & Karma

Posted on June 7, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

Today was another good one that included a great breakfast, a trip to Costco with everyone but Maryssa, a visit to Jim & Donna’s, and a trip to Bob & Steff’s for a great BBQ of beer butt chickens. It’s “chickens” because there were four of them and they were all wonderful. I’m only going to show you two of them, however …

It was all marred by only one, simple, negative event that was entirely my fault. I’ll admit that right up front. I lost the bag containing my laptop and Diane’s iPad. It was a horrifying 1.5 hours of searching the Buick, the room, returning to Jim & Donna’s, then Steff & Bob’s, checking with the front desk for lost and found until I finally accepted that I’d done a terrible thing by leaving it in the dinning area this morning before we left to visit Costco.

We returned, sadly, to our room with the understanding that I’d lost some important items. Out phone chargers were also in the bag. What an entirely huge bummer.

Then, all the sudden, a little light clicked on in my tiny little mind and I knew right where it was. It was in a special little hiding place in the Buick. I came to this realization when Diane, saddened by my mishandling of equipment, said she was going back to the Buick to make another search. That’s when the little light switched on.

So, I stuffed my feet back into my sneakers, got my room key card, and headed back down to the Buick to get it, knowing full well it was right where I thought it was. Diane had to tell me where the Buick was because I wasn’t with her when she parked it. It was out back instead of out front so I had to have the card key to get back in to the building.

To kind of top off the evening, my card key didn’t work in any of the outside doors so I wound up walking all the way around the outside of the building to the front entrance.

I figure that was Karma in action for what I’d done.

Now it’s all good. Getting up early in the morning to attend church with all the family. Should be fun.

Oh ya! There was an interesting upside to the Costco visit because Alan E. Grey was sitting at a table selling copies of his book “The Life of Chief Joseph”. Jack and I each got a copy and I sat and talked with Alan for a while. An interesting man Pretty old, and a little shaky, but fun to talk with. He received his doctorate in 1952 which should make him around 90 or so.

Mornings, Golf, Dead Clams, Stumps, & Mowing

Posted on May 7, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

This morning Ozzie woke me up at 0530, a fairly certain indicator that we need blackout blinds for our bedroom. It’s getting light earlier and earlier and it’s pretty obvious that’s what gets him going. I learned a couple of days ago that Diane has been playing possum in the morning because Ozzie tries to wake her up first by walking up and down her body. She tuffs it out, however, knowing I’ll eventually get up and let him outside. Then she goes back to sleep for 3-4 hours. Tomorrow I’m going to try that and see what happens.

I slept on the couch until 0830, when Diane got up. She said Doug had called about golfing this morning so I went out and we teed off at 0945. I took Cedric’s Ping driver to see how well it worked, just for fun. I’ve never hit anything with a Ping club because I’ve never been in close proximity to one of them. Turns out it really does make a “ping” sound when you hit the ball just right. That’s not something I did with consistency, but I have to admit I did manage to whack a few tremendous drives. Straight, and everything. Very un-Jerrie-like.

After a fun, but bad round of golf with Junior and Doug, we went to Scappoose for lunch at Fultano’s Pizza joint. I knew Diane was going to be in Scappoose because she told me. That meant she would be at Goodwill, about 300 feet from Fultano’s so I couldn’t very well go to lunch there without alerting her. I’d planned to do that, anyway, but forgot my phone. So, I borrowed Junior’s to make the call. She agreed, of course. Who wouldn’t? We ate pizza and salad, and visited.

On the way home I stopped by Junior’s place to get some fresh dead clams so I could deliver them to Jack & Wynette. He’s always doing that because they really like dead clams. I was happy to do it for him because he was tired. Also, the story about how he got those clams was pretty exciting according to Doug. He told me that while hunting the tell-tale clam signs on the beach, Junior had to get closer to the ground. Too close, it turns out, because he was tumbled by a rogue wave. If he hadn’t been broadsided, the outcome may have been a little better, but he was. Doug said Junior rolled around in the water for a while, embarrassing him so he had to finally go get him and move him to higher ground. Doug said it wasn’t easy because Junior’s boots were full of water and he was hard to drag up the beach. But, he did it, and he salvaged the clams Junior had painstakingly gathered. That was the important part. So, sharing them with J & W has more meaning because Junior put his life at risk to capture some poor unassuming clams, trying to make a living in the sand. Now they will never see their babies again. If they had babies. Maybe they didn’t.

After visiting with J & W for a while I went home to dig out more stumps. It’s a grueling job, but it had to be done. So, I donned a new set of dirty clothes and went out to getter done.

The chore began in a normal manner but it was terribly tiring. Made me breath hard, like a pretty girl does, or going up the stairs. And I rid myself of a lot of excess sweat. Because of my tendency sweat at the sight of a pretty girl, I’m not allowed to watch any of those Victoria’s Secret commercials, or the Blazer dancers. Any dancers, actually. Especially those nearly naked ones on Dancing With The Stars. It’s a terrible affliction. Honest, it is.

When the sweat ran out, I had to find a better way to eliminate the stumps and decided to use the truck to pull them out. I found the towing strap in the garage, hooked it to the bumper hitch, wound it around a stump and wallah! Out it came, simple as could be, making me wonder why I didn’t think of that before. Such a simple solution, until the truck ran out of gas. I found a couple of gallons in a can in the garage, dumped it in the truck … and the battery was dead. It wouldn’t start. Being a believer in Karma, I took that as an obvious sign that it was time to quit.

So, I did. I quit, went out back and mowed the yard. That went fairly quickly because I didn’t bag it. I had to get it mowed because it’s going to rain tomorrow and I was prevented from mowing it completely because of events a few days ago. Don’t remember what events those were, but they kept me from mowing.

Once I was clean enough to enter the living room, we watched the new “24” show.

Jack’s back!

Gear Head Stuff & Karma

Posted on March 17, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

Now, I’m not a real Gear Head, Like Don, but I try. Sometime’s I’m even successful which surprises me when it happens. Such was the case today when, left unsupervised, while Diane took her Mom to the doctor to check out her head, I left the house brimming with confidence that I would accomplish my missions.

One of them was the old ’68 truck. As you may remember, I left it in a shambles with no electricity making it to the necessary wires that would ignite the engine. So, this morning, I went to work as if it wasn’t a problem, put it all back together, and it actually started right up. Oh, there’s a few extra wires hanging around, and I didn’t reinstall the radio or the heater controls, but it works. So do the turn signals, and the windshield wipers, the reason for dismantling it in the first place. One of the added benefits of getting the truck going was that I was able to move it so I could find the socket I dropped a couple of weeks ago. Many of you are probably surprised that I remembered to look for it.

I share this news as though everything went just as smooth as glass, but that’s not the case. I discovered what happens when the tiny little tube isn’t reconnected to the oil pressure gauge. Any guesses? Well, lets just say I’m no longer allowed to wear those sneakers in the house, and I’ll probably have to toss the socks I was wearing.

That reminds me … I should probably connect the speedo, too.

But it runs in an excellent manner.

From the truck I went directly to the ’79 Winnebago. It’s a tough bugger to get started but I know the trick. First I removed the engine cover inside the cab. Then I plunked myself into the driver’s seat and removed the air cleaner cover. That’s necessary in order to spray starting fluid into the carburetor, which I did. This is complicated, however, by the tricky ignition I’ve got. Actually, it’s not tricky. I had a button connected to the starter at some point in time, and it fell off one day. Since I’ve not found it necessary to reinstall it, I just turn the key on and hold the wires together, spraying starting fluid in the carburetor, until something ignites. So far, using that method, the only thing that ignites is the fuel in the engine. That’s because I really don’t spray while the engine is turning.

It started pretty quickly, surprising me, so I let it set and run until the exhausts quick smoking. That didn’t take as long as normal, either.

Then, I moved next door to the ’73 Winnebago to see if I could get it started. I know it will run, but it hasn’t been started in a while so I knew it wasn’t going to be easy.

First, I needed to install one of the batteries just happen to have in the garage. There are three of them, and they all, happily still had a full charge which was applied before I gave my old battery charger away.

Before I took the battery out, however, I decided to do a little pruning. The border trees I parked next to were in the way so I just whacked a bunch of branches off until I could access the battery tray.

With the battery in place I randomly attached two of the four wires in the vicinity and achieved a satisfying spark indicating ‘something’ was connected. Back in the cabin, no matter how hard I turned the ignition key, I couldn’t get it to do anything. So, I went back out and disconnected the battery cables and contemplated which two to connect next. While pondering, I checked the battery terminals, noticing that they are a bit corroded, and the terminal ends of the cables previously used. Turns out the spark i achieved was thankfully brief because had it actually made adequate contact the battery would have imploded. The two I chose first created a direct short between the terminals.

The second and third time I was more careful. I discovered which two powered the 12V lighting, but using the 2nd positive cable still did not result in ignition. So, I figured Karma was telling me to go do something else. So, I did.

I removed the ’79 rig from the driveway so Diane’s Bunco Babes will be able to park 4 vehicles on the house side of the street. The latecomers will have to park across the street.

Now it’s getting late and I must terminate my activity for the day. Lydia has her first high school softball game today at 1630 and I must be there. I have 1.5 hours to get ready. Sadly, I can only watch 1/2 an hour of it because I have another PT session at 1700. Another reason I must quit is because Diane made it back home and reported that I “stink” of mechanical stuff and must wash.

So, I’ll do that.

My “Golden” Post – # 555

Posted on February 18, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

Greetings and hallucinations to all on this momentous day. Who would have thought that 3 short years ago, or thereabouts, I’d make it this far. I was sure the WordPress moderators would have tired of me by now and just kicked me off for no reason other than they wanted to. Just for fun. But, they haven’t. Yet. So, I will continue until I’ve used up all the nouns, consonants, and adjectives, to name a few, that I can. Even if they don’t always make sense.

I have nothing special planned for this entry so don’t expect much. It will be the normal drivel that pops into my head when I touch my … when I touch my keyboard. Something just takes over. I’m sure all of you have had this same experience at some time or other … no thought involved, just type away and see what happens.

First, Diane is on Day 3 of an IBS attack and finds peace only in resting. I totally understand and let her be. Yesterday we talked about how awful IBS can be and I asked, “well, would you rather be sick at home, or in paradise?” She smiled and said, “paradise, of course.” So here we are. The upside is that we aren’t spending very much on food. At the moment I’m having crackers, Tillamook cheese, and water. I love that stuff, so it’s not tough. She will rally, I know, if neither of us push it.

Then we’ll go see the whales.

While flitting away the time I got on my Facebook account and did something I’ve wanted to do for a while now … go through Facebook’s list of suggested friends. I was amazed at how many there were who had crossed the ‘friend boundary’ by being friends with someone I was friends with. Merrily I clicked along, sending friend request after friend request to those who either had names I actually recognized, or those with whom Diane was already a friend. This took a lot of time and, as I got toward what I thought was the bottom of the list, the names became more and more obscure. You know, like you think you should know them but you aren’t quite sure, and some of the mutual friends aren’t familiar and you couldn’t remember ever friending them? Like that.

Throughout my journey, on that list, I kept seeing suggestions for friends who appeared to not have any friends at all. At least not mutual friends. They just stood sadly alone with no names listed in the adjacent column, and it began to concern me. In order to assuage this empathetic attack on my conscience, I decided to send friend requests to them, too.

At first I sent to them all but the list seemed to be never-ending so I switched to every other one. Still, it went on and on. Then to every third one until, finally, I apparently clicked on the wrong thing, or the Facebook ‘People’ noticed what was going on, and I was summarily dumped out to my home page.

Using that as an indicator that it was time to stop what I was doing, I did that. Now I’m here. But I’m still thinking about all those poor people who don’t appear to have friends. And, I wonder how their names wound up on that list. I suspect I’ll find out.

So, if you are reading this on my Facebook page, and don’t know me, it’s OK. We’re friends. Honest. You can trust me. Ask anyone.

Thinking about getting that ‘prompt’ to quit brings to mind how many events in my life are dictated by similar ‘prompts’. Like, I need a screw, or a bolt, so I go to my huge stash of screws and bolts to look for just the right one. Usually, I’m looking for an even number, like 2 or 4, but sometimes I only need one. It has to match one I already have, though. Normally I can’t find one just like the one I have, so I start digging around looking for matching screws or bolts. The rule is that the first group of 4 I find are the ones I’m supposed to use, and it works out surprisingly well. Sometimes I’ll find 3, the 4th one is illusive, so I’ll start another matching group, taking the first to make the cut.

On the rare occasions that I only need one, I’ll find what I think is the one I need then it magically falls from my hand disappearing either back into the screw/bolt box, or onto the shop floor. I take that as an indicator that I had the wrong one and go back to the box and, usually, quickly find a replacement. It’s pretty amazing.

Getting a parking place works the same way. If someone beats me to the spot I was looking at it means I wasn’t supposed to park there for some reason. I just get another one. Simple. A lot less stressful than jumping up and down in anger because that ‘jerk’ took ‘my’ spot. Karma, in response, usually kicks in and causes at least one of the cars they parked between to be too close, allowing the owner to rightfully slam their door into the parking thief because it’s the only way they can get into theirs. Ya know? It all works out.

I’m kinda looking at Diane’s situation in the same manner. If we were home and she had an attack like this, she’d be up and about feeling that it was necessary for her to be doing ‘something.’ Here, she can rest and get over it. Her concern, of course, is that I’m not having any fun. Well, I’ve done all this before, a couple of times, and I don’t feel cheated in even a small way. My concerns are with her.

I know … it makes me sound like a saint of some kind, right? Saint Jerrie just doesn’t have a ring of truth in it, however, so I’ll just stick with GMM. That’s a Good Married Man, as opposed to a BMM. Some BMMs are rightfully associated with a BBM, or Bad (pick a word) Movement.

I hear Diane navigating so it’s time to terminate this and see how things are going.

Hope you all have a great day.

Every day I wake up is awesome!

Oh ya! I didn’t really randomly send friend requests to all those strangers. I was very selective …