Today we did domestic things that require us to stay in our room all day. Mainly, it gave Diane ample opportunity to do our laundry while watched a couple of NFL playoff games. I offered to help but she’s very adamant that I have absolutely nothing to with laundry unless it’s to fetch a basket for her. I may have touched on this subject previously, but it bears repeating.

Oh, OK, I’ll tell you why …

Once upon a long time ago, during the early years of my training to be a proper husband, there was a time when I was trusted to help with laundry. Typically, I was never alone so any difficulties I might encounter were quickly rectified by my Diane. Things were good.

One day, however, when Diane was off cavorting with her friends I was left alone with nothing to do. She didn’t leave me a list. I looked everywhere but it just could not be found. So, I ventured in a direction less traveled in our marriage. I made a decision on my own. I decided I was going to do wash the clothes.

I’d seen her do this task many times and felt sure I could manage OK. The main rule, I quickly remembered, was to never mix dark and white clothes so I began by sorting. It was an easy task because we never had much laundry to do in our early months. But, a quick search of our home turned up enough items to make the effort worth while.

Darks and Whites. Two piles. No where in my memory banks did I detect a need to further sort by clothing type. Just by color. I had two piles and chose to wash the whites first. It was mostly underwear and a few pairs of socks and I figured if I made a mistake, not a lot would be lost.

I started the washer, knowing she like to use hot water to ensure all the bugs and germs were properly dealt with, then gently introduced each item separately into the rising water. When done I closed the lid, noted the time, and retired to our drawing room which was really our living room that had about six books laying about in a haphazard manner, and ash trays by each of them. We smoked then and it was OK because not enough people had perished to make it a problem.

As the washer washed, I selected one of our six books and began reading but the rhythmic sound of the washer swishing water around quickly lulled my senses, causing me to drift into a pleasant slumber. There was no dreaming that I can recall, just serene quiet which was ended abruptly when the washer signaled the end of it’s process with a profoundly annoying BUZZ!.

I jumped to my feet and rushed to see what was the matter but had, on the short trip to the laundry room, discerned that there really was no problem. It was just finished.

Removing the freshly washed clothing, I took one piece at a time, shook out the wrinkles as best I could, and placed it into the dryer. It was done quickly. This was a point in time where dryer sheets were unheard of so I didn’t have to do that. Fabric softener was included in the washing process. So, I didn’t have to find the dryer sheets because there were none.

I set the dryer to run for 30 minutes. There were no other buttons to complicate the drying process. Just set the timer and push the button to make it run. Pretty simple.

I used the same process to load the dark clothes into the washer that I used for the whites. I checked each item for pockets, removing forgotten treasures (gum, kleenex, q-tips, and sometimes loose change). This step was omitted with the whites because none of our underwear had pockets and I’m pretty sure any of the white clothes that did were empty. As this reality crossed my mind my eyes automatically searched out the dryer that was busily tumbling those white clothes in an atmosphere that could easily melt a stick of gum. Figuring it was already too late to fix it, I continued with the dark clothes with much greater care.

Once the washer was properly full, the water was filling, the dryer tumbling, and everything in order, I went back to the drawing room to was for the next signal that something needed to be done.

The dryer won the race, sounding its alarm for attention. I responded, gathering the warm dry clothing into my arms and carried them to my chair in the drawing room. I like hugging warm clothing to my bodice. It’s very comforting. I held them until the heat dissipated then began the folding process.

Just as I joined and folded the last pair of socks, the washer signaled its plea for attention. Great timing, right?

I took all the newly folded whites to the bedroom and placed them tenderly on Diane’s bed because the majority of the white were hers. She changes her underwear way more often than I do. We’ve discussed this over the years and I still don’t know why she can’t observe the 4-day rule for underwear like I do. It’s something to do with proper hygiene, I think.

Once the folded clothes were delivered to their proper place for inspection, I returned to the washer just as it was spinning to a stop to complete the cycle.

Pulling each piece out and shaking it out before delivering it to the dryer is required (by me), same as the white clothing. The dark clothes include jeans, socks, some special underwear, shirts, and sweaters. I’d seen Diane lay some of her sweaters out on a towel, on the table, but all the table was full of stuff so there was no room. So, I figured it would be OK as long as I kept the heat down A little. So that’s what I did. Low temp, long time.

Back in the drawing room I made myself comfortable and closed my eyes for a bit and was startled when I heard the door slam when Diane returned home. Apparently I had snoozed right through the dryer’s buzzer, or it had failed for some reason. It didn’t matter because the damage was done. My goal was to have the laundry done before Diane got home. She noticed that I’d done it and told me to just stay away and she’d finish it. It wasn’t a directive delivered in a mean way, just an honest order to help me.

So I remained in my chair and let her finish. It was OK for a while then I heard the dreaded “JEROLDBRADLEYCATE! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

Startled as I was hearing my entire name delivered in all capital letters as only she an do, my immediate response was, “The laundry?” I readily admit that I should have taken at least a few seconds to THINK before engaging my mouth, but that’s not one of my strong suits.

I was startled once again when she entered the drawing room holding a fishing net for some reason. I was pretty sure that I hadn’t seen it in the laundry I washed or dried, so presumed it must have been something she’d purchased. That caused me to pause and wonder what in the world she was going to do with a fishing net.

She held it up, dangling it from her right hand forefinger. I was still confused so asked, “What did you buy that for?” Looking back on this moment made me realize it was another point in time where I should have paused for a few seconds to compose an answer.

“Well,” she replied, “when I bought it last year it was a very nice sweater.”

“What happened to it?”

“You happened to it!”

Still not understanding what was going on I picked up my theoretical shovel and said, “I don’t know what you mean. What did I do?”

It was at this point in time where I learned what chenille is and the danger, in many ways, associated with drying anything made with this new (to me) material, in a dryer. “So,” I thought, “that was the sweater I remember her laying on a towel,” and the fishing net hanging from her finger was the obvious reason why.

At this point she continued my education by pulling the dryer lint screen from behind her back to show me where her sweater had gone. It was now a thick layer of colorful former sweater clinging to the screen.

So, now I know what happens to chenille sweaters when you dry them in a dryer. Perhaps you’ll be happy to know that this is one lesson I’ve never forgotten, and why I’m NOT allowed to do our laundry.

That’s about it.

To properly end this I’m compelled to share one more photo I took at the Polynesian Cultural Center.

This bug resides inside Goo’s Plantation in the market place. It’s not for sale.

Life has been pretty relaxed for us causing me to get a little behind my daily reporting. I need to catch up, so here’s what we did yesterday …

Uhhhh … gotta think about this for a little bit because it’s all fuzzy. I remember that our main attraction for the day was to find a place to watch the Hilton Village Friday Night Fireworks, or HVFNF, if you are in to abbreviations. That’s not a real thing, but it’s fun to do and easier to refer back to it later on without having to type it all out.

The fireworks are ignited every Friday night promptly at the stroke of 6:45 pm, or 7:15 pm, or even 7:45 pm. What’s advertised isn’t necessarily accurate. Everyone here is on “Hawaii Time” which is code for ‘we start when we want.’ No one is in a hurry except some people on the freeway. There are always people in a hurry out there. Driving around at 35-45 mph all the time in, say, a Dodge 392 Hemi, or a Ford F-150 Raptor, can be frustrating. I get it. There should be places reserved on the island for people who buy such vehicles to let off a little steam. They could, for instance, open up the run way at Wheeler Army Airfield to let them go crazy once a week, spending the remaining ration of fuel on frivolous actions. Or, have a road rally from downtown Honolulu, up H-1 to H-2, go right to the North Shore, turn right on Highway 99 to Haleiwa, where Hwy 99 transitions into Hwy 83. Follow this around past the Polynesian Cultural Center and all the way to Kaneohe where you turn right to join H-3 which goes through the mountains via two tunnels, one of which is very long and the walls, of which, are completely covered with 4″ ceramic tiles. This is true. I think. At least it looks like 4″ tiles as you cruise through at 45 mph. Keep going until you encounter a stunning maze of on and off ramps for H-201 and H-1. From there back to Honolulu on H-1 is simple. The finish line should be in front of Ross Dress for Less in the Kahala Mall near where H-1 becomes Hwy 72. I have no idea how far that is but just consider the chaos if those roads were cleared so people could race their over powered cars and trucks. What fun!

Ok, got that off my mind so I can move on.

To reel off a little time while waiting for 6:45 pm, or whatevah, we decided to drive toward Diamond Head crater. It’s only 4.5 miles away and only takes 45 minutes to get there, according to the GPS. The roads took us through the high priced district that looked a lot like Hawaii’s version of Rodeo Drive. Pretty plush stuff. We made it to the crater entrance just after it closed for the day, but there was a parking area nearby. So, we parked.

In the distance, on a very clear day, you can see Maui. I thought I could see it but Diane said I was dreaming. Maybe I was. But, I saw something out there in the distance.

Here’s where we parked. You can see the tunnel that goes through the crater.

Then, it started getting a little darker which meant we should head for ‘Home’ to prepare for our walk out to the lagoon for the fireworks.

Here’s what we saw during that trek.

If you look all the way left you can see an aqua colored light. That Gilligan’s food cart in the parking lot that goes all the way out there. Our Granddaughter Gilligan thought that was pretty cool to have her very own food cart out there.

I just spent the last couple of hours trying to get the video I took last night to play on here. But it just doesn’t work. So, here’s a LINK to the hotel you can see a bit of it.

Now for some random photos that I CAN include …

Gilligan’s Food Cart, again …

Hilton Rainbow Tower

My lovely Bride …

We were surrounded by people that surrounded the Lagoon. We suspect that this is weekly entertainment for some families on a regular basis. Kids were everywhere having a great time.

OK – that’s it for #10.

Aloha

Yesterday was a quiet day because we knew today was going to be busy. Visiting the Polynesian Cultural Center is an all day affair that entails a lot of walking. The complex is very large. To do it properly one should make a plan on how to visit each area that highlights one Polynesian culture, so you can see them all – Samoa, Tonga, Fiji, Tahiti, Hawaii, and one called Aotearoa. Until now I’ve never heard of that one. According to wikipedia Aotearoa is the current Māori-language name for New Zealand. What a surprise. If any of you out there can tell me they knew this, please let us all know when this happened.

The drive to the Center was stunning as the road follows the water most of the way along the North Shore.

I showed you the rocks first, but in reality most of the drive looks like the following. Lots of sand.

We didn’t do any of that planning I mentioned. We just entered the area, turned right and started walking. It’s hard to focus on just one aspect because there are demonstrations, and events going on all around you as you walk and with everything already in progress it’s difficult to join in and figure out what’s going on. So we simply took it all in as we encountered it and enjoyed all of it. Turn a corner and you see a group of people with guitars and ukuleles singing beautiful songs. Another corner is an ancient Tahitian wedding ceremony. There are canoe rides sailing through the water that flows around the entire complex, and young people in bright shirts everywhere ready to answer any question you may have. All of them are either students of adjacent Brigham Young University, or volunteers. Here’s one of them. Her name (we think) is Becky …

She’s a BYU Alum who was a Special Ed teacher for 30 years. She plays the ukulele too. Gives lesson, even. Nice Lady.

The student guides are representatives of the area you’re currently visiting at the time and they’re incredibly friendly. Also, as you might expect, they all speak the language of the area they’re in and they do their best to teach everyone simple phrases. It’s pretty special.

Our visit began around 12:30 pm and lasted until about 9:45 pm. That’s over 6 hours of wandering around all the venues, shops and demonstrations, 1 hour to eat a pretty inclusive buffet dinner with treats from each culture, and a 1.5 hours dynamite show about life. It’s named “Ha’ The Breath of Life”. Diane and I agree that the show is more than equal to any show we’ve ever seen in Las Vegas. It’s worth every penny.

Almost all of the entertainers who put on the show are BYU students and alumni, many of which we saw on our journey through the various countries. We talked with many as we wandered throughout the day, and seeing them in this highly professional production was special.

The auditorium is enormous and we were fortunate enough to be located only 6 rows from the main stage. I want you to visualize a very wide bowl-shaped venue with the flat bottom probably 150 feet in diameter. About half of the inside is a beach side village, the remainder of the bowl’s innards are where people sit. The slope of the seating area is gentle with very wide stairs in the aisles. I suspect the auditorium can hold a few thousand people in very comfortable, uncrowded seats. Everyone has a good view of the entire venue.

Sadly, photos of the show are prohibited so I have none. I can, however, offer THIS LINK that pretty much covers everything.

I got a tribal tattoo in Tahiti. Didn’t hurt even one little bit.

And it washed right off with just a washcloth.

We got back to our condo long after our normal curfew but it was a day well spent. If you ever get to Oahu, put this on your must do list. It’s pretty incredible

Today we did something simple — we drove up H-1 on the west coast of Oahu, almost to the very end of the road. Actually, H-1 doesn’t go that far. It turns in to Highway 93 at Kapolei. All that means is we go from 4 lanes to 2 and the villages get smaller. But, it’s a nice drive up the coast.

One detracting aspect of the drive is all of the homeless camps along the west side of the road. That means all the homeless camps are pretty much on the beach. There are a lot of tents along Highway 93 but they avoid the villages and resort grounds. One of the resorts in the area is Aulani Disneyland Resort a little north of Kapolei. We drove in toward the property and the landscaping rapidly changed from homeless camps to incredibly elegant surroundings.

From this…

To this …

… and the Disney Resort …

Our purpose for taking this trip was to visit Wai’anae. There’s an Army recreational center there that consists of about 40 cabins, right on the beach. In the early 80’s Diane met me here when my ship, the USS Cleveland, was on the way home from a WESTPAC Cruise. I was granted leave to spend some time on the island with Diane while the ship made the 7 day transit to San Diego without me. We flew home together, to San Diego, which is a much better was to end a 6-month cruise.

If you look close at the above photo you can see about 20 people surfing.

We were happy to discover that the center is still in operation and the cabins have been upgraded considerably. They’ve all been raised about 4 feet off the ground to apparently avoid high surf. We didn’t get to go inside a unit to reminisce but that’s OK. We got to see the place, and walk along the beach where we spent a very memorable week. The only thing missing was my casette of Air Supply songs. We may go back there one day.

We took our time on the trip back to Honolulu, right lane all the way. It’s getting to be a familiar drive and we’re learning shortcuts.

The bellmen here at the Grand Waikikian are getting to know us and are giving us more leeway for leaving our car at the front entrance. Normally people can’t leave their vehicles out front for more than a few minutes, but we’ve graduated to 30 minutes. That gives us time to haul our treasures up to our room. The alternative is for Diane to ‘hire’ a bellman to carry our bags to the room, or I just go park the car and hurk them back myself. It’s only about 1/4 of a mile, and not a bad workout for this old man. But we both prefer the easy way of just taking stuff to our room then I can walk back empty handed after parking the car.

Our daughter, Jennifer, shared a photo of an injury she sustained when she was attacked by BB8 while working in one of her children’s rooms. She said it fell off a chest of drawers, but I think it jumped. I have permission to share the result. She really got thumped.

The reason BB8 was on a dresser was because she’s been super busy fixing up the bedrooms, vacated by their adult children, for the two small guys she and Daniel are adopting. The are Jasper 2, and Siah 1. Quite an adventure they have tackled, but they both love their new babies, as do the grown up kids, Cedric, Lydia, and Jeran. We’re pretty proud of them all and enjoy our new grand babies. They are pretty special.

OK. that’s it for #7.

Aloha.

Today we relaxed in the morning, like all of the morning, then put on our walking shoes so we could go fetch the car without ruining our socks. I actually have a pair of slippahs but they are only for the beach and short walks so I need my shoes. Diane wears her slippahs all da time.

But, first, we had to have lunch because we relaxed so much that we kinda lost track of time. But, lunch was easy because when we went to the commissary the other day Diane tossed a large can of tuna in the cart. She also got relish and mayo so I made tuna sandwiches. They were really good. She let me get a small jar of sweet baby pickles, too, so I was able to get the little added kick that she doesn’t like. It was all good.

Oh! I just discovered that I kinda fibbed a little when I reported previously that I only had two photos of us walking around the Village. Turns out I did take more so here they are …

This is what I call the Hilton Lagoon. They call it something else. But, it’s located in front of the Hilton Rainbow tower so I renamed it.

Here’s Waikiki Beach and a sea of umbrellas that you can rent for $49.95 a day. Want a chair? That’s $35 a day. That’s Diamond Head in the back ground.

Diane found a new friend … and see! She’s got her slippahs on just like I said.

There are ponds throughout the village with lots of fish and this turtle doing some stretching exercises. He must of got a cramp chasing the fish.

Here’s some of the fish. I think many of them are destined for a trip to one of the many kitchens surround the area. That’s a guess, of course.

Diane bought me a new hat, too, but she won’t let me wear it in public.

Oh! And here’s another one from when I stabbed myself in the thumb while cooking.

Once we got ourselves prepared we jogged over to the Hale Koa parking garage, got the car, and drove to Aloha Stadium for the Swap Meet. Sadly, I failed to take a photo of all the vendors. I did, however, get one shot of a typical vendor setup on the way out.

Most of the vendors sell clothing, but there are an amazing array of different items. Look HERE to see more.

After leaving the stadium we mosied over to Pearlridge where our family was sequestered while waiting for base housing in 1986. Obviously it’s changed a bit over the years and, like most of the island, is filled with places to shop for anything you might want.

One of the reasons we went to the swap meet was to get towels and an umbrella for the beach. Found the towels, but no umbrella, so I searched for a nearby Walmart or Target to see if they had something. Target was closer so that’s where we went. We actually found a beach ‘thing’ you sit under that folds up small enough to fit in a suitcase. We’ll be happy to show it to you if they let us bring it home.

Back at the condo I cooked steak for supper. Didn’t want to get the new oven all messy so I just fried it in a pan with some onion and a lot of garlic salt.

While eating, we watched the end of the Dalles/49ers football game. I think that’s the one we watched. The 49ers won which we know made Jeannie very happy. I just did that to see if she’s watching. Jeannie is the organist for our church.

After the football game was over, Diane fiddled with the remote and discovered that “Hobbs & Shaw” had just started. We saw it a long time ago but couldn’t remember enough of it to keep us from watching it again. It’s a fun movie.

Then I gook a shower and we went to bed.

Diane shower’s, too, but only in the mornings.

Today we spent all morning in our room. I got up early, like normal, cooked a Jimmy Dean breakfast for myself, made a pot of coffee and just settled down for a bit until Diane woke up. We both slept well, finally. I was skeptical of how well I slept because my bed was pretty much destroyed this morning.

After Diane woke up we retired to the front porch to just watch the world go by for a while. We just weren’t in a hurry to go anywhere right away. We drank our coffee, watched the traffic, and read stuff. I also worked on the Day 3 post. I do them a day after the event because at the end of a day I’m not capable of doing more than making an outline of events. Seems to work best. You needed to know all that.

Today is an exception to that new rule. Our plan is to watch the remainder of the Chiefs and Jaguars game then we’re going to tour the local area to see what we can see. The reason, Diane said, is to save our energy for tomorrow when we’ll be walking all over Aloha Stadium at the swap meet.

I made salad for lunch. Stabbed my thumb and severed an artery. Almost bled out before Diane got it wrapped with a couple of bandaids. It hurt a little bit.

After the game we went down stairs and walked all over Hilton Hawaiian Village just looking at stuff and greeting to people. Many things were interesting but Diane didn’t want to buy anything before seeing what the swap meet has for us tomorrow. We suspect things will be a little less expensive.

We stopped at the ice cream store and got one scoop each. Only cost $14. While sitting on convenient wall we greeted to passersby and engaged in some interesting conversations. The most interesting was a gentleman who noticed my Navy hat and stopped to talk. He had a Navy hat, also, but his was from the Naval Academy. Here’s what I learned from our conversation:

He lives in Issaquah, Washington, his is last name is Haslet, and he graduated from the academy in 1963. I think he said he quit the Navy in 1969. I failed to get his first name, but his daughter’s name is Adrianne Haslet-Davis. If you read the link you’ll learn that Adrianne is a professional ballroom dancer who lost a foot in the Boston Marathon bombing in 2015. She recovered, and she still dances, and she ran the Boston Marathon. Mr. Haslet told me that she ran two Boston Marathons since the article was written in 2016. A joy to talk with is Mr. Haslet, and our meeting is proof that we really do live in a small world. I wish I had taken a photo with Mr. Haslet, but I didn’t.

We did, however, manage to get a selfie near a big and complex Banyan Tree that resides in the middle of the Hilton Hawaiian Village.

That’s pretty much it for today.

Jerrie got up and made coffee in a pot just like the one we had in Las Vegas the last time we visited there. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure it was the very same coffee cooker, transported to Hawaii so I would have something familiar to work with. Yeah. I’m sure that’s true. Either that, or Hilton buys in bulk, populating all of their properties (of which there are many) with same furnishings and equipment world-wide so the only way you can tell you’re in a different time zone is to look out the window. Yup. It’s really that simple. Kinda like time travel.

When I look out the window here I see this to the north …

… and this to the north east …

I’d show you the view west, but that would require me to get closer to the railing. We’re on the 31st floor and it’s a little freaky getting near the edge. We have a partial ocean view but partial is plenty. We’ve seen the ocean before so it’s not a big deal. It’s more fun to watch the traffic on Ala Moana Blvd below us …

We ate some breakfast, rested a bit, then gathered ourselves for the long trip to get the car. Diane braved the trip, not making me go get the car and come back for her. My GPS indicates that the car is only 700 feet away, but it doesn’t count all the corners one must traverse to avoid buildings and such. But, walking to the front of the property from our room isn’t much less than that. Distances are deceiving. Walking together was the better choice.

Our destination was the Navy Commissary at Pearl Harbor so we could load up on food for the duration. More better than buying food in town. Here’s where we went …

We took Exit 15A , in case you were wondering.

Diane found a spot pretty close to the facility. There were lots of special slots closer to the front door, like Expectant Mother (she refused to park there) and lots of other spots for Flag Officers, CO Afloat, stuff like that, but nothing for Honorably Retired Senior Chiefs. So, we had to go searching. It was actually OK.

Once inside we went directly to the food court on the 2nd level. Diane got a turkey avacado sandwich and I got a very large bacon cheese burger. I didn’t get a picture of mine, but I had to catch Diane in the act of discovering how enormous her sandwich was …

She only managed to eat half of it, saving the other half for dinner (without bread).

After lunch we wandered around the Navy Exchange, remembering how it used to be when we lived here. Things have changed considerably. Things just aren’t as cheap as they used to be. We did buy a few things, however, then made our exit to the commissary right next door. That was a better shopping experience and we got enough food to keep us going for a while.

The trip back to the hotel was familiar because we stayed on Nimitz Drive most of the way. Really familiar territory even though it’s been 34 years since we left. Most of the changes are vertical, not horizontal. They don’t have a lot of choice about direction.

Diane pulled up in front of the main entrance and I commissioned a bellman to get all our food to our room. He got a couple of plastic bins and a luggage cart to make the trip while I took the car back to the parking lot. I took my time getting back to the room because I knew I’d just be in the way. My timing was pretty good. Even though I could have made it sooner Diane still commented “That was quick!”

For dinner Diane ate the rest of her sandwich as planned and I got to eat the rest of the rigatoni she didn’t eat for dinner on Day 1. It was really good. We had planned to go take a walk on the beach to end the day but it got dark quickly so we just stayed in and watched “Gnomeo & Juliet” on Disney Channel. Cute movie. No one died.

About 2030 we headed for bed.

It was another good day.

I’ve been missing in action for just a little less than one month. To me, in my old age, it was just mere minutes. But, in my defense, I’ve been pretty busy during those missing hours. Looking back, however, there’s lots of evidence supporting Diane’s firm belief that I’m a victim of dementia. I know that’s her belief because she points it out every time she quizzes me about something I was apparently supposed to remember. Regarding that, while in the midst of living through those events, and/or discussions it wasn’t made clear to me that it would be necessary to provide accurate answers about details.

Since I’m not much of a detail person I had to struggle through many awkward moments in an attempt to live up to expectations with accurate data. Because of that I did my best to fill my blanks with the best stuff I could make up in a hurry. I’ve done that so often that my reality is blurred with a lot of fake information. The longer I pretend, the more real it becomes.

Considering all that I think perhaps that living in a fantasy world might not be all that bad. I’m so good at it that I’m seriously considering a run for Congress in 2024. Maybe I’ll go for President. There’s considerable proof that anyone can run for, and win, political office without understanding anything about what’s expected. Credentials? Who needs real ones when you can just make up what sounds good at the time. Education? Same thing. All you need is money. Lots of it.

Something that may, or may not, influences voters is that I’m not aligning with a particular party. I mean, c’mon. Why are they called parties, anyway? Doing that kind of defines the kind of activity one might expect of those who affiliate with them. Instead, I’m not affiliating with any organization that is defined as a party. I’m just running for office. There’s another thing that causes me to go “hmmm.” Why do candidates “run” for office? Why don’t they just calmly walk for an office at a brisk pace? How about “vying” for office? Or “competing”?

If anyone wants to help with my campaign all you need to do is write my name in for any position of any ballot anywhere. Don’t send money. I don’t want to feel like I’m obligated to do something for somebody.

This morning was pretty exciting at our house when I tripped over the dog and crashed into the door on Diane’s shoe closet. If I hadn’t been carrying a glass of water and my iPad I could have probably protected myself a little better but being burdened as I was I had to stop my forward momentum with my face and right shoulder. Doing that wasn’t a conscious act as it happened faster than little brain could considered an alternate outcome. So, from about 3 feet from the door I began my descent into the door.

The first contact with the door was made with the outer corner of my right eyebrow, then the frame of my glasses, then my right shoulder. The noise was loud enough to wake up everyone in the house, even in the basement. It was quite astounding.

The door stopped my forward progress making a descent to the floor inevitable. The first thing that happened was gravity took over and I dropped vertically to my knees while my face slid down the door. Then I automatically tipped back and to my right causing my right hand to hit the floor first, then my left, and I rolled onto my back, still holding half a glass of water.

There was a lot of scurrying and exclamation as people tried to discover what all the racket was. Gilligan arrived first, then Diane, then Jeff. Someone took the glass of water from my hands but I don’t know who wound up with the iPad. Then I just laid there waiting to discover what was going to hurt the most. Oddly, there was very little pain involved and nothing broke. After a short period of fending off attempts to get me off the floor, I was able to attain a vertical position on my own. Then we went to Diane’s other house so Jeff and I could work on installing a new garage door opener. I was allowed to participate with the understanding that I would not be allowed on a ladder.

As the day progressed pains in my shoulder, wrists, and knees manifested as a reminder that I probably should have turned on the light before venturing into the dark end where the dog waited.

Now I must limp to my bed and prepare for tomorrow’s chores. We have to finish the garage door opener, then Diane and I have to pack our suitcases. We’re going on a trip.