Driving in the snow

Posted on February 7, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

I’m actuality pretty good at doing that, driving in the snow. To test my naturally imbued skills, I took a drive today. I had to because we used the last bit of Panzee’s pouch food this morning. She’ll want more of it in the morning. If I don’t have it she’ll just make my day totally miserable. I know. She’s done that before.

I ran out once before and had to use a pouch of Ozzie’s food as a substitute and she was absolutely incensed for being downgraded to, well, an actually pouch of food. Her’s, you see, actually comes from a can. She knows this, and is convinced the can keeps the food in a more tasty manner than an actual flimsy pouch. Ozzie doesn’t really care. If it isn’t crunchy, he’ll generally eat it, after a bit of investigating.

First stop, on the way to get dog food, and bananas, was ACE Hardware. I didn’t really need anything there. I discovered that he was working today and just and to stop by and say Hi. So, I did. I was dressed very warmly, because the temp is still low 20’s, so I didn’t stay in the store for long. We did, however, have time to share stories about the favorite wrecks we’ve seen over the years. It was entertaining, and we had a good visit.

Yes, I needed to get bananas, too. For us, and for Diane’s Mom, Jean. I forgot that part.

Getting to ACE wasn’t very difficult, even though the side roads around us do not get plowed. The Buick, however, couldn’t care less. I backed out of the driveway, scraping away all the snow above the 8″ level as though it wasn’t there. There was no hesitation then, or at any time during the entire I was gone. So, I will not dwell on the trip. It was very uneventful as everyone I encountered seemed to be on their best driving behavior. It was a very nice drive in the snow.

After ACE I went to Safeway for the bananas. I got them quickly and was back on the street within a matter of minutes even though here were a considerable number of people in there shopping.

From Safeway I drove straight across Highway 30 to Wal*Mart where the less expensive dog food lives. That’s where we normally get it. The parking lot was just a mess of packed snow but, as I said, the Buick didn’t care. There was a female employee out front doing her best to collect shopping carts from the parking lot, but they were almost impossible to maneuver through the snow. A very tough job. I spoke with her a bit and wished her well with her task.

Inside the store I navigated unobstructed to the pet supplies and only missed the correct location by one aisle. Once located, I loaded 16 cans of Panzee food, and one 12-pack of Ozzie pouch food into the cart I captured upon entry. Back at the front I discovered a cashier who was unencumbered with a customer and was more than happy to ring me up and accept my money.

As I left the store, I left the cart by the front door and carried my purchases to the Buick because I did not want to add to the shopping cart employee’s burden. It was the correct thing to do. I’m sure she would have appreciated it had she been there to see, but she must have been out retrieving carts used by less considerate customers.

From Wal*Mart I put my sights on Grandma’s House. That would be Diane’s Mom, Jean. We all call her Grandma, although to the majority of related humans in the area she is Great Grandma. That’s OK because she is already trained to respond to Grandma so we’ll stick with that.

Her driveway was a pristine sheet of unadulterated snow. No foot prints to betray her promise to not attempt, for any reason, to go to her mail box. Her driveway has a little slope to it so going down it in the snow isn’t something she should be doing. But, she will, given the chance.

Seeing no foot prints, I went to the mailbox to retrieve what was left, and it was empty. I was nearly stunned. Not quite, but almost. When I got to the front door Grams met me and explained that some wandering children were kind enough to retrieve the mail for her. I delivered her bananas, visited a bit, then headed on home.

The trip up Pittsburgh Road was going to be the final test for the Buick because it is notoriously bad, even on a good day. It proved to be no problem, as did the small hill on Hillcrest Road leading to our house.

When I opened the garage door the dogs began their greeting ritual that only ends when the interior door is opened and they are released into the wild. Generally, they run out into the driveway, then into the yard, where Panzee relieves herself in her special spot. Ozzie turns onto the sidewalk and makes three stops. One at the flowering Lenten Roses, another at some Lilly of the Valley he doesn’t like, and that I’ve been trying to kill since we’ve been her, then again at a bare spot that always seems to get his attention. The Lenten Roses, incidentally, always seem to be in bloom, year round. I don’t understand that. They should die like everything else when it gets cold, but they don’t.

After the ritual, we return to the house and settle down for the rest of the day, no matter if it’s morning or afternoon. Panzee’s greeting ritual is always a joyful event because she talks to us. It’s not a bark, or a howl, but just her voice which she wavers by rolling her jaw. It’s very entertaining and such a happy sound.

Diane’s better today. She’s been sick for a couple of months. First a bad cold, then a bad stomach ailment. Next week we’re going to Hawaii. I’m sure she’ll be perfectly OK by then. If she isn’t, we’re not going. That’s her incentive to get better. I’m sure if she isn’t, she’ll lie about it.

For lunch Diane made chicken noodle soup. It was my idea to use spaghetti noodles and it turned out to be way better than Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup. Great stuff.

For dessert I, by myself, made raspberry sorbet. I’ve never done that before. We had all the necessary parts because Diane found a recipe in one of the dozens of magazines she gets each month and bought then. I dug them out, she rediscovered the recipe, and I simply followed the directions. Did you know that making sorbet takes about six hours? I’m sure the sorbet served in restaurants are created using a really big machine, but doing it at home is an exercise in restraint. It was all I could do to not grab a straw and just slurp it all up. I knew that if I did that, however, that Diane would never forgive me, and I would have to let my doctor know so she could just go ahead and write out hat prescription for insulin.

I think that’s about it for the day. All that’s left is to watch the end of the Portland Trailblazer’s game against the Indiana Pacers. As of this moment, Portland is ahead by 6 points.

Sorry, 8 points, with 6:46 to go.

Oh, and it’s snowing again, adding to the existing 11 inches. Supposed to keep it up all night and lots of tomorrow.

Wheee!

OK. So they lost in overtime. Big deal.

Sunrises and Reporters

Posted on February 5, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

The sunrise this morning was just like the photo at the top of my blog entries, but without the clouds. It was absolutely pristine. I didn’t take a new picture because I just didn’t feel like looking for my camera. Besides, I have that view stored away in my long-term memory. Locked in that steel trap of a mind. Where it will remain until the end of time, or until my brain turns to dust.

I’ve been thinking about a blog called “Dumb Things Reporters Ask People,” and actually Googled it to see if it’s already been done. Then I reconsidered, thinking it wouldn’t be a good idea to glorify the stupidity many of them demonstrate. I’ve mentioned this before. I think the networks have just one question reporters are required to ask that is dictated by the situation. They try to make it sound like a therapy session by starting each question with “When the _________ happened/ began/started, how did it make you feel?” You can fill the blank with “shooting”, “snow”, “earthquake”, “avalanche”, “accident”, etc. From there, the interview typically goes south quickly.

I can ask stupid questions.

Maybe I should be a reporter.

All in favor, say “aye.”

All against, say “nay.”

Motion failed.

Thank you. I didn’t want to be a reporter anyway.

Mt. Hood Sunset

Posted on February 2, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

I never get tired of this …

Fall Colors

Posted on October 20, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

Well, it finally happened. I was sitting peacefully at my computer, like normal, visualizing all the pretty colors I see in the trees when Diane lets me go outside. Normally they don’t turn such vivid colors until it freezes, which it hasn’t done, yet, to my knowledge. The deciduous trees that litter the hills, hiding in plain sight amongst the evergreens through spring and summer, apparently think otherwise. Their disguises serve them well until fall, when the promise of winter causes them to blush profusely, betraying their location, making them more prominent as they comtemplate the impending loss of their leaves, leaving them naked, surrounded by a majority who staunchly maintain their greenery. Living thusly only serves to make them more noticeable, a bright spot in a forest made mostly of a never-changing sea of green.

The fall colors seen in the north-east are unquestioningly dramatic and awe-inspiring, but those in the north-west are bright little surprises hidden most of the year amid an ever green forest. We know they’re there, but we forget until they remind us each fall.

Normally the leaves drift down gently in the breeze, signaling an end to summer, a prelude to winter. It’s a beautiful thing to watch this cycle of life.

Here’s the view from the front of our house looking up our street at the next door neighbor’s front yard. The house is for sale, or will be soon, if anyone is interested. It’s on a half-acre, daylight basement, with an unobstructed mountain view, just a little higher up the hill, and there’s an opening in the rock wall Sven built so you can visit us any time you wish. Really, you can.

Following is our beloved dogwood tree as it looked yesterday morning before Jeff visited with Gilligan and Baylee. There’s just something about trees, with low hanging branches, that compel children, of all ages, to climb them. Cedric, Lydia, and Jeran graduated from the dog wood and climb all the way to the top of its fellow yard-dweller, the tall, green, birch tree to the left.

Gilligan … she just turned six …

Gilligan and Baylee …

Baylee … she will soon be five …

Here’s how the tree looked when they were done climbing it …

That’s a lie, of course.

The tree looked that way before they climbed it. You knew that, right?

This is the third time it’s covered it’s ‘space’ with leaves. It’s very pretty, and easy to clean up with the mower, but it seems wrong to undo the effort this tree expended in order to provide us with such a pleasing sight. So, I will wait until all the leaves descend, then I’ll take another picture before decorating it for winter …

like this …

Nature.

What a wonder it is …

Viagra, Painting The Hall, and The Winnebago

Posted on September 16, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

Now, don’t go getting all alarmed with the title. It’s that I just saw a Viagra commercial that suggested I check with my doctor to ensure it’s in good enough shape for sex. I’ve seen it before, numerous times, but I’ve never given it much thought. The most recent commercial, however, caught my attention so I decided to find out and I called my doctor’s office at the VA. I have an appointment for November 18th. I’ll let you know what I find out if I don’t forget about the appointment. I may just opt for cialis because that one apparently gives one a reason to spend 4 hours in separate bath tubs on the beach. I don’t get it, but it looks like something we might enjoy.

This morning Diane and I painted the hall that leads to the east wing of the house. I call it the east wing because it’s on the east side of the house. It’s where the bedrooms are. We don’t really have an east wing. But, it sounds cool.

The hallway color is called basket weave, or something like that. It looks yellow to me. A nice yellow, but it doesn’t remind me of a basket. Baskets are almost always some shade of brown. At least that’s the way they look to me.

The weather has definitely changed. It’s raining more than not, and it’s cloudy, keeping the sun from peeking out. Being native Oregonians, neither Diane nor I really give a rip if it rains. It always smells so good when it does. Cleans the air. It should rain more in Los Angeles, like it does in Oregon. That’s just an opinion, of course.

During one of the lulls in the rain I asked Diane what she wanted me to do. She mentioned that someone should probably check to see if the motor home will ever run again, an interesting way of telling me I should just gather up some tools and go lay in the wet rocks to see if there’s any possibility I can figure out what’s wrong with it.

So, that’s what I did, as a good husband should.

The rocks under the RV were dry, and they are the small round kind that don’t leave marks when you lay on them like gravel does. I crawled under there and immediately found the fuel transfer switch which is really a tiny little thing. I thought it would be bigger. My only objective, for this visit, was to switch the fuel lines to see if the pump would pull from the back tank. Sadly, when I made the switch, the line to the back appeared to be dry, but the one that ran dry actually dripped a little gas on me. Still, I switched them.

Then I climbed into the pilot’s seat, turned the ignition on, and listened to the electric fuel pump get busy. I was hoping for it to change pitch when the fuel reached it. It finally did, but I wasn’t sure if it changed because of impending fuel flow, or because the battery was almost dead. I already knew the batteries didn’t have enough kick to crank the engine, so it could very well have been the latter.

Instead of expending any more energy on it, I ran my extension cord from the garage to the RV and connected one of the batteries to my really old battery charger. That thing has been beat up, dropped, and used so many times, I’m amazed that it works. It still delivers a charge, though, so I keep it.

After getting it connected, and ensuring the charger was doing it’s job, I grabbed hold of the battery tray and slid it back into it’s storage spot in the RV. The only complication with that was when I got it all the way in, two of my favorite left hand fingers were fatally trapped in a space where fingers aren’t supposed to be. As I usually do with injuries of this nature, I held the injured member flat to my chest and covered it with the other hand, making the short sucking “SSSS” sound, over and over, to detract from the inexplicably horrendous pain. What makes pain like that even worse is knowing that it’s not going to stop any time soon, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it.

When I entered the house, sucking rapidly through clenched teeth, Diane leaped out of her computer chair to assist me, trying to get me to tell her what was the matter. Right then, I knew why I loved her so much. She cared. When she discovered there was no blood dripping any place, she lost interest. Then she laughed, which was actually a decent detraction from the immense pain I was currently enduring. While waiting for the pain to subside she suggested a variety of possibilities for making the pain go away quicker, none of which worked, and we discussed which lawyer I should visit so we could get started on the divorce . As usual, she was OK with any lawyer I chose.

I’ve been threatening to divorce her for years, but she just laughs and says, “Go ahead. Make my day.” I’d never do that, of course, because I feel a deep responsibility to, and for her. Besides HGTV, I’m the only source of entertainment she has. What would she do if we got divorced? It would be a terrible thing for both of us. Me, especially, because Diane still does all my laundry. I’d just be lost, and would have to revert to wearing my underwear for four days, instead of only two.

The pain in my two fingers is manageable so I think I’m going to stop and take a nap while I can.

Shopping, Lunch, Satellite TV, and The Beach

Posted on September 8, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

This morning happened early, almost like normal, but a little bit later. I think it was 0700 when the dogs let their presence be known. Until then, they were quiet like little church mice. At least I think they were. I’ve never actually seen a church mouse so cannot accurately report that they are actually quiet. I suppose the fact that I’ve never heard one while in church would serve to convince me that they really are quiet. Either that, or they don’t really exist. That’s hard to believe, however, because mice are pretty much everywhere.

After walking the dogs, we returned to the Winnebago innards and they got their normal ration of pouch food, which pleased them a great deal. It always pleases them a great deal. From their perspective, they just don’t get pleased a great deal often enough. Once a day is the limit.

When we returned, Diane was vertical and moving so I figured it was going to be a pretty good day. We both had out normal yogurt and and fruit, then drank coffee until the pot was empty. It was a bit weak, but it was good. We were all off to a good start, and I didn’t even feel the need to take my normal morning nap.

One of the priorities for today was to get some sort of something I could use to lay on under the RV, to could work on the fuel pump problem, so we went shopping. As luck would have it, Diane drove directly to the Goodwill store at the fairly new shopping center, that also has a Costco, in Warrenton. We mosied around in there and found all kinds of really cute things we didn’t know we needed. I mean, they were REALLY cute things. Probably the cutest things I’ve ever seen. My contribution was a little package that had two hose clamps, which aren’t really cute, and an old, solid wood, not plywood, coffee table. I’m going to take it home and refinish it so it looks like new then I’m going to put it in front of the living room couch where there currently isn’t one. It’s going to look very nice, I bet. Right now we’re using it for our outside table under the awning by the RV since I forgot to get the little brown plastic fold up one from the garage.

We returned to some happy dogs early afternoon and Diane set about making lunch. Today we had griddled steak, microwave mashed potatoes, and over baked corn on the cob. It was all exceptionally good, but the corn actually took first prize simply for the way Diane cooked it. “Oven baked corn on the cob?” you ask. “That’s true,” I respond. All you have to do is preheat your oven to 350 then toss the corn in for 25 minutes. The best part is, you don’t have to peel the corn first! It just goes in there just like you bought it from the store, unless you bought it already husked. Then, when your dinger goes off, or your phone barks at you, like Diane’s timer app, take the corn out of then oven and immediately run cold water on your hands for about 10 minutes, if you failed to use hot pads. Then, get a really sharp knife, and cut the large end off the ears, taking the first row of corn, if possible. Then just squeeze the little end like a tube of toothpaste and the cooked ear of corn will slowly emerge from the husks, minus most of those annoying little strings. It’s amazing! And it was done to perfection. So, good. I didn’t, by the way, take the corn out of the oven so I didn’t burn my hands. Diane did, and she used hot pads.

After lunch, Diane made herself some tea and went to her chair under the awning, in the fresh air. It was raining off and on, but that’s OK. It was nice and fresh. And quiet. While she was relaxing, I went to work trying to line up the satellite antenna. I set it up yesterday and gave it a minor effort, but couldn’t get it to work. This time I got the zip code for the spot we’re in so I could properly aim the antenna, then made the necessary adjustments using a 1/2 inch box end wrench. In case you’re interested, the DirecTV settings for zip code 97121 are: azimuth 132, elevation 34, rotation 111. The hard part is setting the azimuth. In case you’ve had trouble with that in the past, perhaps you will benefit from my experience regarding this adjustment.

Once you set the elevation and rotation, take your best shot at aiming the antenna in the proper direction where you think it should be. Fortunately, for me, there is a compass glued to one leg of the stand Jack gave me, so I knew where 132 was. The trick with using a manual compass is that you first have to make sure the compass is aligned with the colored needle on the N. Then, if you have the right kind of compass, it will have markings all the way around it from 0 to 359 then back to 0.

When you figure out which way you need to point it, stand very still and point your left arm in that direction. It works best if you do this directly over the antenna so you can see how close you are to being correct. Remember, all you are trying to do is get close. It’s very possible that you might get lucky on the first aim and get a great signal.

Regarding the signal … there are satellite signal meters you can purchase that I understand help with the alignment, but I figure that would take the fun out of guessing and, perhaps, getting it right the first time.

Needless to say, I didn’t get it right the first time so had to make numerous trips from the receiver, to check the signal level, then back to the antenna to move it 1 or 2 degrees one way or another, then back to the receiver to check again. I did this about 15 times, I think, before I actually got a signal. Then, with a bit a tweaking, I got a really good signal and was watching Jeff Gianola on Channel 6 News, just like that! Way out here in Fort Stevens. Go figure.

Oh, another really important thing to remember when you’re setting up your antenna is to make sure the vertical part of the pipe, to which the antenna is bolted, is absolutely vertical. You can guess at this, too, if you wish, but most of them have a bubble level in the top of the vertical pipe that simplifies this step. When I was setting it up at home, I didn’t know it was there, so had all kinds of trouble getting it vertical with two little levels. So, that’s the first thing I did this time.

Here’s what it should look like when you’re finished …

All the time I was going back and forth from the antenna to the receiver, Diane sat peacefully in her chair, not questioning me about how it was going. She just read her book and must have figured I was doing something useful.

On my last trip out I told her the news was on if she was interested which excited her no end. She just loves the news and ran right inside to watch it … and fiddle around with the DirecTV remote which she hasn’t used in a while. Since we have a DVR in the RV, she set Diane Sawyer to record, then we took the dogs to the beach down by the shipwrecked Peter Iredale. There are signs in Fort Stevens that actually have “Ship Wreck” on it, with an arrow pointing the way. Everyone in Oregon knows the ship’s name so it’s not needed on the signs an it saves the parks service a ton of money by not having to buy so much sign paint. Here’s what’s left of the wreck …

When we got to the beach, Panzee was ready to run because there were dog tracks all over the place and so many new things to smell. Ozzie just sat on my arm, looking out the window during the trip, trying to look nonchalant, but I knew he was excited. He couldn’t fool me. He was, however, a little hesitant at first because he absolutely abhors leashes. He’s main this pretty plain every time we hook him up, but it’s a rule. He deals with it, in his fashion, like by laying down so Diane has to drag him along behind her which causes people to stare. Then she will pick him up, which is his real desire. He’s pretty little so he’s not very hard to drag. It just looks bad to some folks.

When we got down to the hard sand, we went north on the beach, away from the ship wreck that lures a lot people, where there was virtually no one around. Seeing this, we removed the leashes and just let them run. They had a terrific time, and got a lot of exercise. Ozzie got the most exercise, though, because he ran circles around Diane like he was in orbit, and just couldn’t break free of her gravitational pull. Finally, however, he did. Somewhere in his little body he found a booster rocket and chased after me and Panzee. It as fun to watch because he’s normally such a little recluse.

I need to let you know that I won’t be able to publish this entry from this location. We have no phone signal. Funny, huh? We’re watching satellite TV in HD but can’t call home. When you get this, you’ll wonder why I’m sharing this because, obviously, it got sent if you’re reading it. It’s just something I needed to tell you.

Oh ya! Here’s something I learned today …

Who knew?

Fires, Trees, Pope Francis, and Food

Posted on August 23, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

The skies all over Oregon are filled with the smoke of numerous forest fires burning around the state. It’s sad to see all those trees burn but, you know what? There is more standing forest now than there was when Lewis & Clark visited the area. The cause, lightening, is still a common cause, but the reason we have more now is because we have brave people, with excellent equipment, willing to go out and fight the fires. Back in L&C’s days, they just burned until they went out on their own.

Speaking of all those trees – Why aren’t more of them logged and milled in the USA? Maybe they really are, and we just don’t know it. What I see in our neck of the woods, on both sides of the Columbia River, are HUGE water front collecting facilities for logs that are loaded on cargo ships which are destined for the other side of the Pacific. Some rumors I’ve heard (conspiracy?) is the many of these logs are transported to huge ships, outside our 12 mile limit, that make cheap plywood and return it to the US for sale. I don’t think that’s true, but it’s an interesting concept. They really do, however, get carted out of the country by the boat load. Literally.

When writing this stuff, I have begun to research what my fingers report, and continually find myself going down ‘conspiracy theory’ paths. Some are quite involved, and interesting. Fun reading.

For the record, if anyone who reads this works for the government, I don’t believe any of that conspiracy theory stuff. Not me. No sir. I think the government is full of honorable people who have my personal well-being very high on their list of priorities … right below their pay raises, private medical plans, raiding social security, screwing up the medical world, figuring new ways to get taxes from us for which there is no need except to line their pockets. All of these yahoos should take a page from Pope Francis’ book on how to conduct yourself when in a position of power. He’s really something and kinda makes me think it’s OK to be Catholic.

Actually, it is OK to be Catholic … or anything you wish to be along religious lines.

Although we are far away from the current forest fires in Oregon, our sunsets are much more dramatic because of the smoke. We can smell the fires burning, too.

OK – I cheated because I don’t have a current picture of a smoke affected sunset. This one is a sunrise. I like it because you can see the crescent moon over Mt. Hood. And, it’s not even a summer sunrise – it’s from November 2010. Still, it’s pretty, even though it’s a little ‘ho hum’ by Oregon standards … yawn … (take that, Jewel).

Just as I sat down to do this, about 3 hours ago, the smoke alarm went off so I knew supper was ready and had to stop. We had tri tip steak. Very good. I like it because I don’t have to gnaw meat off the bone. We also had beets and smashed potatoes. I regret not taking a picture for you, but here are some previous meals you may have missed …

Diane just told me it’s midnight and time to stop. Last time I looked it was only 10 pm. Guess I’m not a real clock-watcher anymore, like I used to be …

G’nite.