Yesterday we took some time off because all this running around is very tiring and we’re pretty sure I caught COVID somewhere along the line. I think it was on Dinah Shore Blvd. I was really hard to tolerate. Well, not everyone thought I had COVID but it was unanimous that I was hard to tolerate. I admit it, OK, but it was some sort of California illness that made me that way. Even though I was in terrible shape I did my best to keep it to myself and went with Diane to a most amazing thrift store. It was called Collector’s Corner. Very unassuming on the outside but inside it was pretty amazing. It was a little like going to Nordstroms but with wider aisles. And, surprisingly, the prices were very reasonable. Mind boggling.

See what I mean? Amazing. The china cabinet in the first pic was on sale for $75. Neck ties and belts for $2, and silverware. I didn’t look at the prices because all I could think about was how excited Cliff would be to search through them.

The only thing we purchased was a $2 leather belt, oddly from Nordstroms, for Diane. Then we went ‘home’.

Once we regained the safety of our rented room we turned on the news and discovered that there was a Haboob lurking around the Salton Sea and it was slowly heading north, DIRECTLY AT US!

As we watched the news, the evening turned dark, and we experienced our first Haboob ever right off our deck.. That’s a dust storm blowing in quite hard. It was an interesting sight as it blew through the trees by our room, obscuring the swale beyond, and mountains beyond the swale. Normally they are very prominent throughout the day. It was very interesting. The only other time we’ve heard about Haboobs was from Julie when one filled her swimming pool in Phoenix. Because of that we always thought Haboobs only happened in Arizona.

So much for Haboobs …

Today we drove to Sunnylands which is located on Bob Hope Blvd. It’s also on Frank Sinatra Blvd, and a couple of other streets. Getting to our assigned vehicle required that we wipe the dust off the bannisters so Diane could use them. Then we discovered a dirty vehicle. I tried to capture it in a photo but it’s deceiving.

See? It was shiny all over just a few hours previously. Now we’ll have to find a car wash as soon as the dust goes away. Although the Haboob has pretty much gone away, there’s still lots of dust in the air.

See. There are mountains behind that haze of dust.

Braving the local freeways in a very dirty car wasn’t difficult because most of the other vehicles were also dirty. So, we wandered over to Sunnylands for the tours that Diane arranged for us. To avoid embarrassment, she parked as far from the venue entrance as she could.

Sunnylands is an enormous estate that was built in the middle of 900 acres of desert in Rancho Mirage. The 25,000 square foot single level home, surrounded by a private 9-hole golf course and 15 man ma,de lakes sites on 200 of those 900 acres. This link will tell you more than I can remember so you need to read it. What did stick in my mind is that all of the trees and plants on the estate were planted because there was literally nothing but sand when the builders started working on it. It took 3 years to complete and is well worth a look.

We took a little tram driven by Noah who was very knowledgeable about the estate. He drove us all the way around the property and gave us all the history. It was very interesting. You should go there.

These are the only palm trees on the estate.

This estate has been used as the west coast Camp David where many presidents came to relax over the years. All of them were pampered and fed as long as they sat at their assigned seat denoted by a card with their name on it.

This display of silver caught my eye because of the name cards …

Guess why …

That’s it for today.

I have no idea what’s going on tomorrow.

Someone said that the other day. I’m not sure if it was said to me, or to someone else, but I decided it was me. Diane agreed. So, we got outta there toot sweet. Doing that involved riding on an airplane for the first time in a few years.

We had to board the plane at O-dark-thirty last Saturday. I guess that was only yesterday, but a lot has happened in such a short time that it seems like many days ago. Maybe if I share the details it will make more sense to me.

First, we were picked up at 11:30 Friday morning so we could share lunch with a couple of friends who agreed to take us to Portland, but only if we fed them. So, we took them to the St. Helens Elks lodge for lunch. It was really good and we enjoyed a long visit with them.

After that we took the harrowing journey to Embassy Suites, near the Portland International Airport, or PDX to those in the “know”, to spend a painfully short night in a very comfortable bed. The alarm went off at 0430 Saturday morning which gave us an hour to get ourselves to the airport.

We did that by using the available shuttle service on which we were the only passengers. That meant that it was my responsibility to ensure the driver received an adequate tip for her efforts. It was worth it and we made it to the Alaska counter in plenty of time.

We only checked two suitcases so you’d think it wouldn’t be much of a big deal. However, one of them was Diane’s and I was a little concerned because it was really heavy. I weighed it on two different scales before leaving the house and pegged it at a little over 50 lbs, the max allowed before penalty fines kicked in. So, we decided to take a chance and check it as is instead of shifting some items to our carry ons. It’s not something I like doing. Shifting things around.

When I put the big suitcase on the scales I was disappointed when it came up 59.5 lbs. The agent did some clicking on his keyboard and reported that it would cost us $100 for the overage unless we wished to transfer some things to our other bags. I wasn’t in the mood for that and, besides, Diane had just come in to some money and we thought there was nothing more important at that time than to help Alaska Airlines improve their financial standing in the world. That, and I was pretty sure there was no way I could shift enough “stuff” to make a difference.

When the suitcases were sent on their ways we adjourned to the TSA line which is always a hoot even though we passed the test, and paid a fee to obtain TSA Pre-check status. This day, we were virtually alone in the pre check line so it was a breeze. Before approaching the officers we stopped to eat our bananas but left the muffins we were given in the bag to see what happened. Turns out muffins aren’t considered to be dangerous so we enjoyed them with our first cup of coffee after cleaning the security line in record time. Then it was off to concourse C to await our flight.

We spent our time in some pretty comfortable chairs then went aboard when called.

The flight was uneventful, but it stopped in San Francisco instead of our destination in Palm Springs. Something like 500 miles short of the goal. We actually knew that was going to happen and that we’d be spending an unproductive 4 hours in SFO before continuing on our way. The surprise was the last leg was in a much smaller aircraft. That was fun and also uneventful.

The airport in Palm Springs is right in the middle of town which makes landings interesting.

Our first stop, after baggage claim, was the Dollar car rental place. Abraham helped us drive away in a 2021 Mazda C5. Before we got out of the parking lot a warning popped up on the dash telling us the car was due for an oil change. Diane drove it to the office and we returned it and got an upgrade to a 2021 Chevy Blazer. Nice car, but it was dirty. made it out of the parking lot into the city before it, too, popped a notice that it needed an oil change. None of the phone numbers we had produced a person to whom we could talk about this problem so we went to our hotel to get some needed rest.

This morning (Sunday) we went back to the airport and turned the Blazer in and went back to the office to negotiate for another vehicle. After a long wait in the busy terminal, we finally drove off with a 2022 Toyota 4-Runner. Its red, Diane’s favorite color for a car. But, she really likes it. The first place we went was a nearby Super-Duper Walmart where we purchased a stool so she could more easily get in the drivers seat.

Now it’s getting late and time for bed. Diane tuckered herself out scheduling places to go and things to do while we’re here. I’ll be adding photos later when i figure out how to do that.

The other day our neighbor’s house caught on fire. Our son, who celebrated his 50th birthday two days ago, saw it and went inside to find one of the neighbors just waking up from a nap. The smoke disoriented her so Jeff carried her out of the house to safety. Then he went back in to get the dogs and cats out of the house. Sadly he missed one of the cats who expired from smoke inhalation.

911 was called right away, before flames were evident, and firetrucks arrived quickly. During that short wait, the fire exploded into a major event that destroyed one end of the home before the hoses were turned off.

Here’s the progression …

The fire was so hot the aluminum window frames melted into puddles. That’s Gabby the goat, in case you’re wondering.

The burning house happened during a visit by our Winnebago Friends. The guys came to work our RV which was immobile because the parking brake was on for such a long time that the rear shoes rusted to the drums. There is a lot of information on the internet about this “common” problem, but none of them worked for me. I was stuck. In order to make the brake drums more accessible I figured jacking up the rear end and putting it on jack stands. Sitting low makes it really hard to get under it to work.

I borrowed a air jack and jack stands from cousin Don and Jeff got busy getting one stand in place. It lasted a little while before the ground gave way allowing the RV to slide about 12″ to the left (looking from the rear) toward a retaining wall. Another foot would have made contact. So, that plan was nixed and we left the RV resting on about 4″ of wood which turned out to be enough for the Winnebago Guys to wiggle under and do their magic.

Finding the solution took about 30 minutes for those guys. A small flat pry bar and a pipe wrench were the key to success. By prying one shoe loose, the RV was once again mobile.

Then we addressed the problem with the leveling jacks. They wouldn’t work. That was an easy one, too, but I wasn’t prepared to do simple. I, like many people, dive right in to a problem figuring it was extremely difficult to solve. Although all the literature I read pointed out the need to have 12 vdc available at all times for these things to work, it never occurred to me that the batteries might be the problem. Turns out that was it. Adding some distilled water to the offending units and letting them charge over night. solved the problem. Yea.

So, the RV is fully functional. We celebrated by getting a condo in Seaside where we could just kick back and do nothing for 3 days.

The other day I got an email from the manufacturer of Diane’s new printer telling me I should plug it in so they could talk with it. The reason, they explained was to honor my desire that Diane should never run out of ink. So, I plugged it in.

Before I could do that, I had to find it in the old computer room at our house. It was on the floor next to Breezie’s (our cat) table on which she sits so she can monitor the movement of ducks in the front yard. She just likes watching them, never chases them. I don’t think she considers them even a tiny bit tasty. Plus, catching one involves work and usually ends with a mouthful of feathers which are difficult to spit out.

When I found the printer I wished HP would have told me the cat puked on it from her perch. Surely that could be done. I mean, it keeps track of it’s innards, why not its outards? This is what I found …

I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that it cleaned up and currently looks brand new.

Before I get going, I hope the 4th was with you recently. Sorry I missed that.

I also hope you all had a rousing Cinco de Mayo.

That’s about it for real life things so I’m going to just ramble about some of the stuff rattling around in my head. Considering the quantity of “things” you’d think the sound would be muffled a little bit, but that isn’t the case. Makes my ears ring, it does.

First on my list is that I’m baffled by all the goings on about people who are confused about what gender they really are. Whatever I share here is just my opinion so please don’t get upset about any of it. You have three choices at this point: 1) Keep reading and don’t judge me for my opinions; 2) Keep reading and get all judgmental about what I say even though my words are not directed at anyone in particular; or, 3) Stop reading and use your time in a more productive manner. What I say doesn’t mean a thing in the long run.

I’m ok knowing that I was ‘assigned’ male as a gender at birth. I’m pretty sure the doctor who delivered me really didn’t struggle with that assignment because the evidence was right there in front of him. I was a little boy. Pretty simple. I don’t think he had to consult with my parents before checking the “M” box my my birth certificate

A lot of time has passed between my birth and how I see the world now and it makes me wonder hope some people think that newborn people need to be assigned a gender. Aging seems to have lowered a veil over my view that blurs the lines between men and women. Old people start looking alike when they get my age so maybe I need to change my pronouns to keep up with the times. That won’t happen, of course, because I’m quite content using either a urinal or sitting on a toilet. Guess that makes me non-binary when it comes to taking a leak. I’ll just continue to be “that guy” until my story is done. That’s when I’ll find out how important all this confusion in society is and whether or not I should have paid more attention.

“Jerrie! Have you been reading the news?”

“Of course I have. Where are we and who are you?”

“I’m God and, if you’ve truly been reading the news, you are a weenie, and you are on outskirts of Heaven.”

“Really!? I used to have one of those when I was little but it seems to have retracted into my body recently. Maybe if I could lose a little weight it might reappear. I didn’t know Heaven had outskirts.”

“No, that won’t work. Once it’s gone, it’s gone, but that’s OK. You don’t need it. Every location has outskirts, even Heaven.”

Back to my non-binary condition … that’s something that has been taking over my body most of my life. It was just a transformation that I really didn’t have control over, and I didn’t find it important enough to worry about. The reason is because I’m married to a most terrific person — my binary female wife. We’ve discussed pronouns, briefly, and I quickly learned that she isn’t fond of being called “it”, “they”, or “them”.

“Hey, It,” I said. “Please bring me a glass of water.”

Or, “Hey, They,” I need a doughnut.” I kinda like this one because it rhymes.

Those just don’t work for either of us, although I’ll respond faithfully to whatever pronoun she chooses to call me; I just need a little warning so I know what to expect.

That’s just a small sample of possibilities, I know, but pronouns are no longer a topic of conversation for us. We’ll just forge ahead with the common knowledge that we are 50’s kids who weren’t given the opportunity to question our genders. Although, I do enjoy wearing a frilly pair of panties once in a while. She’s not a fan, of course. I know this because I used to ask permission and she always responded with “no!”. So, I just don’t ask any more.

I believe I’ve dug this hole plenty deep and should stop before it caves in on me.

Have a good day.