Category Archives: Opinions

Superbowl XLVIII

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Before I get going, let’s talk about Roman Numerals. They’re pretty to look at, sometimes, but why complicate a simple number like 48? It’s not too difficult to figure out the number until you get to “40”, because “X’s”, “V’s”, and “I’s”‘ are pretty straight forward. Then at 40, they toss an “L” in there to confuse everyone. Forty is “XL” which means 50-10. No, it’s -10+50 because the X comes before the L. Then, when you get to 50, it’s just an L all by itself.

Using that logic, I think 1 thru 10 in Roman Numerals should be something like IXX, VIIIX, VIIX, VIX, VX, IVX, IIIX, IIX, IX, X. That way you get the X in play before you are allowed to use it all alone, just like the L.

I suspect Roman Numerals are used in conjunction with Super Bowl games as a link to gladiators times. They are kind of like warriors, after all. However, I’m pretty sure those playing pro football never considered leaving college early to join the military. Maybe it’s all about timing, or that there is no longer a draft.

The Draft should be resurrected. I mean, how is it fair that the only people getting killed in conflicts are volunteers? I thought we were an equal opportunity country. I think anyone running for any position in politics should be required to have served in the military before being allowed to run. Just a thought.

Yesterday I registered on a new website. After giving all the particulars we got to the security question questions to be used for access. One of the first ones on the list? … “What was the first name of your first boyfriend?”

I was stunned!

I’ve never been in a situation where that question was ever asked of me. I know, it’s 2014 and OK for anyone to have a boyfriend, even me, I suppose, but, I didn’t know what to do. There were lots of other questions I could have chosen, even one asking to know the first name of my first girlfriend, but I was stuck on boyfriend. There were three questions I had to answer, and that was a choice on all three. Getting passed that first question, however, was proving to be difficult.

Ultimately, after a long delay, I entered “Jack”, so I could move along. For the next question I chose girlfriend and entered “Jack”. For the third, I selected pet, and entered “Jack”. I’ve done this before, you see, to check if the program you’re working with is paying attention. Generally, in my experience, they aren’t. You can use the same word, or name, for all of the security questions and register just fine. If you do that, you won’t have to remember a lot of different things. On some web site registrations I’ve been born, and married, in the city of “Jack”. One syllable. Easy to remember. I suggest everyone use “Jack” for all your registrations from now on.

How many times do you think Peyton Manning said Omaha yesterday? I’m guessing it wasn’t as many times as “omygawd”.

Joining us to watch the game were Diane’s Mom, Jean, Jennifer, Lydia, Brianna, Haley, and Jeran. Cedric joined his friends at the Columbia Theater here in town to watch the game on the big screen. The kids’ youth pastor, James, took them and stayed through the first quarter. Then he joined us at our house until half time. He’s a really nice young man and the kids love him. Thankfully, he wasn’t at the house when Diane handed me a bowl of cashews and said, just as everyone quit talking, “here are your nuts.”

She rendered me speechless, not an easy thing to do. Making it worse was that I was the only male in the room of 7 people watching the game so it was pretty evident about whose nuts she was speaking. Worse yet, three of them were barely teenagers. And everyone laughed. I think Jennie started it when she snorted. Had I done something like that I would have been told to knock it off, or that it was inappropriate, something I hear a lot, but no one said anything to Diane. Even her mother laughed.

Now, about that game … #1 offense against the #1 defense, as it should be, and the #1 defense won. A new record was set, in the process, when Seattle scored 12 seconds into the game without ever touching the ball. Well, Peyton didn’t touch it either, so I guess he can’t be blamed. It doesn’t get much better than that, for me.

I actually like Peyton, but I’ve never liked Denver. That comes from years of living in Southern California cheering for the San Diego Chargers. Denver was the enemy during those years, and it’s never really gone away. Silly, I suppose, but that’s just the way it is. For the same reason, I have a Portland Trailblazer T-shirt the has “Beat LA” on it. Any Blazer worth his, or her salt knows that means “beat the Lakers.”

Back to Peyton … though I wasn’t looking for the thrashing Seattle gave Denver, it was gratifying to see they were up to the task. I admit I was a little disappointed when Denver finally scored, then made a 2-point conversion. Was that to prove a point? Like, “See, we can do it!”

In the end, going for that two points allowed watchers to witness virtually every way a team can score in a football game … it was like a clinic …

  • a safety
  • a kick-off return
  • a punt return
  • a pass
  • a run
  • a pick-6
  • a field goal
  • a 2-point conversion

Did I miss any?

For food, Diane made a big pot of taco meat which was used exclusively for DIY nachos. It was, as it always is, very good. I love nachos. Whoever invented those should get a bonus, or something.

We also had nuts, as I mentioned.

Jerrie’s Print Shop & Lydia

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I was sitting here trying to remember what happened on Saturday and it just wasn’t coming in. So, I asked Diane, my never-ending source of important information or, NESOII, for those of you more comfortable with acronyms. I kinda like that one. It looks like it could be a line item from the ingredients on a box of diaper wipes, or the initials of a testing agency endorsing the free toothbrush included in box of Kotex.

On Saturday we spent almost the entire day copying and collating booklets for the annual meeting for our church. Then, after spending absolutely every minute of the day on the booklets, Diane squeezed another 3 hours out of me to create, print, and cut hundreds of quilt raffle tickets for the upcoming WELCA quilt show. I was more than happy to do the latter because it was something different for me to try, and it needed to be done. It needed to be done because the local print shop, Paulson’s, didn’t meet their self-imposed deadline for completing the job last Thursday.

When we stopped to get the finished tickets, I went into the shop. Upon entering, the printer guy said, “they aren’t done,” and the conversation quickly spiraled downward from there …

“When will they be done?”

“I don’t know. We’re just swamped here.”

“So, you don’t prioritize your print jobs, like first in first out?”

“It doesn’t really work like that.”

“So, you close at 5:30, but I have a task that will keep me out past your closing time.”

“I might not get it done by then, anyway.”

“And you’re closed tomorrow. I need the tickets, so what now?”

At this point, another gentleman in the shop said, “I own Sherlock’s store. If you aren’t back by closing time, I’ll take them to the store and you can pick them up on your way home.” Happily, that store really is on our way home. Nifty. I found it interesting that the store owner was working in the back room of the print shop until Diane suggested that he probably owned the print shop, too.

Then we went to the church to wear out the office copier before surrendering and returning home to finish the job there. On the way I went into Sherlock’s and rescued the newly printed tickets from the counter top, and went merrily on my way.

Once home, Diane looked at the stacks of pink tickets, that were supposed to be red, and let out a disturbing yelp telling me there was something else wrong besides the color. Indeed there was. The information on the tickets indicated the quilt show was going to take place on May 3-4, 2013. That’s when it happened last year. Excellent!

That’s when I got busy and made the tickets myself, on my computer. It was a long, tedious task, but I got them done and didn’t have to inhale all those chemicals like the print shop guy does. I think he’s been breathing them so long that his brain has begun to deteriorate a bit. And, mine look better. Diane said so.

Now my wife temporarily thinks I’m a hero because I made the tickets. Sadly, I didn’t make nearly enough of them, but Diane never said it that way. They were provided to the church ladies to sell, after church, and she said, “I wish I would have had more of them.” That’s code, of course, for “Make some more.”

So, after we got home I got busy printing more of them, then dismantled the 50 sheets of card stock into 400 tickets. It took a long time and it made my back sore because I had to stand at the table to do it. I guess I didn’t have to stand there, but it wouldn’t have been done had I not because I couldn’t do it sitting down.

Now it’s done. I can no longer see properly, because of eye strain. I’m doing all of this merely by touch.

To break up yesterday afternoon, Jeff appeared with Gilligan, Baylee, and two normally active dogs. He also had a third dog, a puppy that’s as big as the normally active ones, but far stronger and not saddled with the innate need to Sit, Stay. Nossir. The puppy is going where it wants to go, and whoever is attached to the leash is going with her. It was quite entertaining except I think Jeff got hurt a bit when the puppy flung him to the ground two or three times.

While Jeff played in the back yard with the dogs, we got to visit with the girls which is always fun. I always quiz them about school, asking dumb questions to which they give some enlightening answers. They see through most of the dumb ones and cock their eye brows at me to ensure I know they know I’m trying to trick them. As a parting gift, Diane gave them a bag of stickers, one of many we’ve received from the DVA (Disable Veterans of America), and I told them they could put them on each other. Diane told them to ignore that, but I know the seed was planted. Hope they don’t get into trouble for it.

Now it’s just after 0900, this fine Monday morning. I was up at 0700 to an incredibly beautiful sunrise. Sadly, my camera was with Jennifer. I left it with her to get pictures of Lydia and her date, Wayne, before they departed to the Winter Ball at school. Sadly, again, Lydia and Wayne wouldn’t let her take pictures of them. Until this moment, I did not know it was an option to refuse first date pictures. It’s mandatory. And, I learned later that Wayne’s mom got lots of pictures.

So, in protest, I’ve made it know that I’m not going to talk with Lydia for two entire days. I haven’t decided on which two days that will be, but it will happen. Just out of the blue I’ll refuse to talk with her because she allowed this moment, that can never be recaptured, to get away without documentation.

I did get some photos of her before Wayne arrived, but they wouldn’t let me stay to take a shot of the ‘couple’ because they didn’t want Wayne to get the wrong idea about sanity issues in the family. So, Diane took me home and I left the camera. Hence, no sunrise picture this morning.

Last night I called Comcast to seek advice about an issue with the new DVR that was installed. It’s trying to record shows to the DVR that was removed. We can see the list, of recorded shows, but it won’t show them to us because it reports the DVR may be unplugged. Well, ya! It was unplugged, taken to the truck, and removed from the area. So, the mystery is, why does the new one keep trying to record shows on it?

Instead of calling for assistance, I logged in to Comcast and opened a chat session, explaining in vivid detail exactly what was going on. The ‘tech’ on the other end, who called himself Cyril, couldn’t find my symptoms in his book and deemed it a very serious problem and submitted a ticket to roll a truck and have a tech come to the house to look at it. Someone is supposed to arrive between 1000-1400.

Since it’s now 0928 I suspect Diane would think it a good idea if I retreated to the East Wing to slip into some underwear and a clean pair of pants. Currently, in case you’re wondering, I’m in PJs. When wearing PJs underwear aren’t necessary.

I’ll let you know how the visit goes. I’ll even add some photos of Lydia when I get my camera back.

Justin Bieber, Golf, & Lunch

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Just a quick nod to JB, then I’ll get on to something worthy of discussion …

In my humble opinion this kid is an over rated human who needs to be deported back to Canada.

Let them deal with him.

Now for important “stuff” … Golf, and pretty much anything else than JB!

That’s what I did today with Doug, Junior, and Lyle. This Lyle is our local American Legion Commander and he’s commonly called “chief” because of his American Indian heritage. “Why,” you may ask, “does he allow people to call him that? I mean, think of the demeaning nature of being called ‘Chief’! How awful is that?” Well, bottom line is he’s perfectly OK with it. He’s responded to that name most of his life and he even writes that on his golf balls. Anyone who finds one knows the owner and returns it. Except for me. I keep them.

We all golfed pretty good, too. I even parred a hole, and had a couple of respectable bogeys. Nifty. Doug chipped in for a birdie on one hole and wound up beating me by 10 strokes. That’s not a difficult feat for him. I’ve discovered that I actually get better scores since I started counting all my strokes, as I go, instead of trying to remember after I’m done with a hole. what a difference.

Here’s a ‘selfie’ I took of the crew, left to right: Lyle, Junior, Doug, and me …

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Here’s Junior teeing off on the third hole …

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After finishing our game, we went to Fultano’s, in Scappoose, where Doug & Junior’s older brother, Jerry, and my older brother, Jack, joined us for a nutritious serving of salad for everyone but me. I also had pizza. Five pieces. And 1.5 large cokes. It was very filling.

Then I went home for a very brief time, then Diane and I returned to our church, Bethany Lutheran, where our plan was to make copies of the Annual Report we will need for Sunday. Sadly, I left the file I needed to copy at home. So we returned to get it. Then, back to church to deal with a copier always thinks it needs new parts, which it doesn’t, and it stops working when it gets too hot, which it did after only 17 of the 50 copies I was looking for. So, we packed up and went back home. Again.

I took the original file, scanned it to my computer to make a PDF file, then started printing the 33 copies we still needed. So far, as of this moment, I’ve done 15 of them.    I would have had more, but while sitting here, watching TV, my printer over ran and spit three whole copies on the floor. They had to be collated, which took time because the paper covered about a 4 foot square area and didn’t really land in order.

On a lighter note, here’s Lydia in her Winter Ball uniform …

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I find it interesting that she’s going to the Scappoose High School Winter Ball with a junior. I find that deplorable because when Diane was a freshman I was a senior. Lydia should have shot a little higher. But, her date, Wayne, is reportedly a good guy and he’s 6’3″ tall, able to provide ample protection should the need arise. He’s Cedric’s friend from church youth group. She will have a great time.

Still, she’s a St. Helens High School student who is going to the Scappoose High School winter ball. Diane and I find it sad that the old St. Helens vs. Scappoose rivalry isn’t like it used to be when we went to Scappoose High.

Now, I must quit, and make more copies.

Resolutions, Electricity, and Basketball

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Gee! Once again I’ve failed to honor my commitment to write something every day. This bothers me, a bit, because I’m sure there are hundreds of readers out there who are upset with me for this deficiency. I can only offer a little my Sad Sack apology that means essentially nothing, because it wouldn’t be totally sincere. I’m OK with it. Besides, I have an excuse.

Winter time, whether it’s really cold or not, is a particularly bad time for me because of all the static electricity. Unless I sit at the computer constantly, the contents of my brain spontaneous shoot out the ends of my hair, the little I have left, and stick to the walls and ceiling. Consequently, I don’t have many memories to share because I’m not allowed to sit at the computer all day long. And, if I did that, it would be pretty boring, since all I could write about would be, well, sitting here. Like this. With my hair in the air after the last static discharge …Photo on 1-21-14 at 8.08 PMWhen the discharge is complete, my hair falls back in place, kinda, and my glasses turn black again. Photo on 1-21-14 at 7.32 PMI’ve tried scraping the brain residue off the walls, so I could regain all that lost knowledge, but it’s hard to distinguish brain cells from paint and plaster chips. That, and it tastes just terrible. So, I’m learning to live with the loss.

This morning I went to the dentist again because I discovered that I still had some Social Security money remaining and I heard the doc purchased a new SUV and needed my help. So, it was one of those win-win things where he got money, without the need of hassling with an insurance company, and I got another tooth fixed. It was the one I chipped. Now it’s good as new.

Diane and I went to another one of Lydia’s basketball games and it was a good one. They lost, but only by 4 points after coming back in the last 5 minutes from 15 down. It was pretty exciting to watch them get their act together. Now for a qualifier … the St. Helens JV team is probably the only one in the league that doesn’t play varsity players in the first half. As a result, they are normally playing from behind in the second half. Sometimes they don’t recover anything, but tonight they did. Tomorrow they play against Scappoose, in St. Helens, because the Hood River High School doesn’t have a JV team. That kinda confused me for a while until it clicked that the coaches must have talked and viewed it as an opportunity for the Scappoose and St. Helens JV teams to get a workout. Should be fun.

Before leaving for the game this evening, Diane showed up with the mail and gave me the turn signal switch I ordered for the old truck. Got a new lever, too. I plan to install it tomorrow, then I’m driving the truck to the dump so I can empty it. Might even clean the crap out of the cab while I’m at it.

Hope everyone had a good day.

 

 

Bachelors, Bachelorettes, and Football

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I gotta tell you that I’m not a big fan of “The Bachelor”. Mainly, as I’ve told Diane more than once, because to me it’s simply one network giant’s corporate approval of public promiscuity.  Yeah, I know. Considering what you can see in movies now days, a show like this is pretty tame. But! You typically go see a movie once but “The Bachelor” is on every week while he whittles his way through all the women who proclaim they are looking for true love. Personally, I think those women are just out for a good time, and work hard to make the final cuts so they can travel to all those cool places. Everyone knows that if you’re looking for true love all you gotta do is go visit a bar, or a gym. Maybe a church. I’m guessing on that, I admit, because I’ve never done that. I knew who I was going to marry when I was a senior in high school.

I feel same about “The Bachelorette”. Diane loves, them, of course, and I can actually see the appeal from an entertainment perspective. She takes notes of all the candidates, picking her favorites for both shows, and she nails the winner early on. She’s good.

Back to our house, because Diane is pretty involved in those shows, I’m not allowed to watch either of them with her. Apparently I make objectionable comments that detract from the cultural value the show attempts to purvey. So, whenever I enter the room, she pauses the TV and won’t start it again until I leave the room.

I get it.

Now there is a problem with the designated bachelor who tagged homosexuals, perhaps in error, as “perverts”. He used the singular version so this can be construed as totally wrong, but I think we all get what he meant. He’s a heterosexual or, more specifically, a non-homosexual.

Can I say that?

I guess I can, because I did.

Back to The Bachelor’s “pervert” comment … in case you haven’t heard, it was in response to an unfair question asking him, without warning, what he thought about the possibility of having a gay version of “The Bachelor”.

Thinking about that, for just a very short time, I have to admit I can’t think of anything I’d enjoy more than watching a couple of gay guys making out in a hot tub. That’s just me, you understand.

On the other side of that coin I have to admit that I wouldn’t have a problem with a gay version of “The Bachelorette”. I suppose most of you probably believe that makes me an extreme sexist, but I can’t help it. I yam what I yam. I prefer to look at is a me getting in touch with my gay feminine side.  Yeah, that’s it.

In this new world of political correctness, I’m sure I’ve violated all the rules. I can blame it on old age, I suppose, but these aren’t new beliefs. I’ve always been a heterosexual. I knew about homosexuality, of course, and I can honestly say it’s never been an issue with me. People are who they are. I’m OK with that.

Now I’m probably in trouble, right?

So …

Hey! How about those Seahawks? It was a terrific game and I especially liked the play where Karma made itself known when the 49er took the ball away from a Seahawk at the 1/2 yard line, just before his leg was bent in half the wrong way, and the referees did not see him laying on the ground, in plain sight, with the ball on his chest. Instead, players piled on top of him and a Seahawk wound up with the ball.

Interesting, right? Well, on the next play Karma jumped up and the Seahawks, attempting to punch into the end zone on a 4th down, fumbled the ball at the 1 yard line and it bounced all over the place, winding up on the 15 yard line, 49ers ball. Much better than the 1 yard line, right?

So, the 49ers took over and the world regained balance when the Seahawks intercepted on the 49ers first play. It ended as it should have, with the Seahawks going to their second trip to the Super Bowl in franchise history.

Go Seahawks!

I’ll leave you with that and with my hope that I haven’t totally offended any of you. Just keep in mind that I’m a self-professed fabricator and you shouldn’t believe everything I say. Still, some things shouldn’t be said, fabricated or not, so I didn’t.

Urine & Mean Drivers

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Yesterday I went to the local dialysis clinic to see my Kidneyologist. It was just a followup to check on a diagnosis I received many years ago about my kidneys and how they were behaving badly at that time. I had teeny, microscopic little bits of blood in my urine and it was deemed to be a bad thing. So, I’ve been taking blood pressure meds for the last 15 years, or so, to help deter the blood leakage.

Sadly, the meds don’t help with urine leakage but I don’t mind. Diane might, but I don’t.

My kidney guy is Dr. Smiley and I really liked him. He sent me to the lab for a urine test which I passed with flying colors. I didn’t spill even one drop! I was directed to place it on a table in the lab, which I did, but not before getting the attention of the young lady who gave me the bottle and those directions. When she noticed me, I held up the little bottle, said “cheers,” put it down and walked off. She nodded knowingly.

Thinking about urine makes me wonder how pretty much everyone in the world knows that it’s very salty. Why is that?

Next, I’d like to address all of you who find it necessary to drive in the fast lane, all the time. In Oregon there is an un-enforced law that everyone must drive to the right unless they are going to pass. Lots of people don’t do that, of course, and in our small corner of the world it poses a problem.

Highway 30 is a nice 4-lane road all the way from Portland thru Columbia City. That’s about a 30 mile stretch of road on to which many, many people must make a left turn in order to get where they wish to go. There’s a chicken lane in the middle that helps facilitate the turn, but the fast lane drivers create a situation where left turners must stop and wait for an opening. Most of the time the slow lane is open, no one in it, but these folks just don’t see a need to move over, to be a courteous driver, allowing left turners to merge. Nope, they just edge a little closer to the chicken lane as if daring drivers to edge into “their” lane.

I bring that up because it happened this evening. This time it was a large, gray-fuzzy-haired woman, but we’ve seen all kinds. Mostly, they are young, and don’t care. Diane and I always drive right to ensure we don’t impede those who need to turn. But, then, we’re special.

Those of you who live in high density areas may not see the problem since you have divided highways and traffic lights for cross roads all over the place. That’s not true, here. Much of that 30 mile stretch is through  countryside, past farms and such. So, it’s a crap shoot to make a left turn. Sometimes it’s pretty exciting, especially when you’re the passenger, as I always am, and prone to be at the point of first contact should a collision occur.

Jack and Wynette know exactly what I mean. In order to access Highway 30 coming from their house, the traffic gods must all be in accord to afford them an opportunity to cross both the southbound and northbound lanes. Actually, it’s eastbound and westbound, but when you look at a map it’s really north and south. It doesn’t really turn west until you get to Rainier.

OK. That’s all I’ve got. Now I must go eat the weenie Diane heated up for me. In the microwave. I got soup, too.

Woodworking Mainly

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Monday. Time to get back to work, even though I don’t have a job. I just have tasks that generally turn in to challenges, sometimes ending with a victory. I thought I was on track for a victory with my challenging task of replacing pieces of baseboard where electric baseboard heaters were originally installed when the house was built.

Things were going along fine, for one room, then a crises emerged when it was revealed to me that no one sells what I need. You see, the previous owner, and builder, owned the local lumber yard so had access to whatever he wanted or needed. As I’ve mentioned previously, he used copious amounts of mahogany for moulding around doors and for almost all of the baseboards. Nice, sturdy and very pretty wood. But, as the saying goes, “they don’t make ’em like that anymore!” I’m talking about when cars were made from some pretty sturdy metal, like my old truck. Same is true for the old baseboards. “They don’t make ’em like that any more!”

Yes, I can buy mahogany  baseboard material at Home Depot, and Lowe’s, but it is not the same dimensions. It’s all thinner, and not as tall. This becomes a problem when trying to fill gaps in existing trim … they do not match up, and outside mitres are particularly ugly. Knowing this was true, I didn’t even try. Diane and I searched all the Restore Stores in the area, numerous times, looking for matching baseboards. We did find two boards, 50 cents apiece, that totaled about 16 feet, and I used them in our bedroom during that ‘refresh’ effort. They were difficult because they were painted white at one point in their lives and all that woodwork in the house is stained and varnished. Getting the paint off was a major project.

While exploring alternatives, I discovered another method that turned out to be eerily similar to how the Federal Reserve, and our elected officials, are handling our national debt. I was going to borrow from one room to finish another. For obvious reasons, we all know that won’t work. One aspect of my plan was, however, to replace the trim in the back rooms with cheap stuff, with the same profile, that I could stain to look like mahogany. So, that’s the direction I went. I suspect the government will try something like that soon. Like right after they vote themselves another pay raise, maybe.

The hall to the bedrooms is done with ‘fake’ mahogany which I stained with DOHG-OCDIA (Dark Oak High Gloss – One Coat Does It All) from ACE. Good stuff. It’s really shiny if you let it try long enough before making a lot of sawdust in the same room.

Unfortunately, the pieces removed from the hallway were not enough to fill all the gaps remaining to be filled. So, today, I robbed Lydia’s room of all it’s baseboard and shoe moulding in order to ensure the living room gets the full treatment. They have been sanded and covered with DOHG and look really pretty but they’re not shiny enough so I’ll add another coat tomorrow. One of the boards is 12′ 7″ long.

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All of you professional wood working type of folks will really enjoy this next one. Despite all the clutter, It’s where all the ‘magic’ happens. Underneath it all is my table saw which I, thankfully, don’t need for this project. Yet.

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Next is a simulation of what my new work bench area will look like if I ever nail the braces to the upright panels. At the moment, the only thing keeping it vertical are a selection of clamps. There will be five areas on the top into which drawers of various size will be installed. I get to build them, if I can find my dovetail jig. If I can’t, I was thinking about getting a minnie dovetail jig for some other projects anyway so it will work out.

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“The Batchelor” just ended so I need to stop this and look busy. Diane will be here any second to check her email.

Bye!

My Workbench, Kids, and a Dead Chicken

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Hi everyone. I trust that none of you have been concerned about my absence, thinking maybe my advance age is the cause. That’s not it, at all. Though the ‘advanced age’ part is a daily issue, you shouldn’t worry about me. It happens to all of us … we age, we get some incredible wrinkles, our skin loses it’s elasticity then we shrivel up and die. Unless, of course, we have a chance encounter with a Tri-Met bus, or a semi truck, or just some schmuck who decided to spend too much time in a bar and had to rush home to beat his wife, killing you along the way. Or, you happen to be in close proximity of someone who wishes to kill themselves, and everyone in his or her vicinity, in the name of all that’s holy. It happens every day and, I suspect, will continue happening till the end of time. People are also killed every day in seemingly innocent accidents … they just happen. No apparent rhyme, or reason, they just happen.

I believe, however, that everything happens for a reason. We just have to be patient and wait a while to see what the reason is. Sometimes it takes so long that we forget the association between the event and the reason.

I don’t worry about those things. Whatever happens, happens. That’s why I’m seemingly careless in pretty much everything I do but that’s because those observing my activities have dissimilar thoughts of what constitutes careless behavior. There should be a standard of careless activity to which everyone can be held accountable instead of leaving it up to individuals to make the call.

The past few days have been filled with tasks that, once again, reaffirmed my appreciation of all that she does. That’s because she went out and caught a cold, probably from Jeran, and it really drug her down. She’s been through three boxes of kleenex so far and the she’s not done. She’s better, but not much. Not a lot of coughing, just a lot of draining. I always find it truly amazing how much mucous a body can produce in a short time. Anyway, so I’ve been taking care of her, as best I can, as well as continuing with my woodworking efforts with the baseboards. I’m ready to move into the living room area, now. Doing this serves a couple of purposes … it keeps me out of Diane’s hair, and it keeps me away from all the germs clinging to her body. So far it’s working and I have been spared, but I fear it won’t last long. I’m bound to catch something.

While working on the baseboards, I decided to dismantle my workbench. Not the entire thing, just half of it. I couldn’t do it all because I needed a large horizontal surface on which to stack everything from the part I took apart. My plan is to lower the working surface to a more manageable, for me,  36 inches from its current height. For me, that’s just below my nipples, too high to make it comfortable. It will be different for everyone because no one’s nipples are the same height above the floor. Also, as we age, they actually get closer to the floor. We all know that’s true.

At this time, I have the dismantled side pretty much clean, and yesterday I cut out six pieces of 3/4″ plywood which will serve as supports for the new work surface. Each piece is 29 3/4″ x 35 3/4″ and I cut them all from the same piece of plywood. If you do the math you will discover that the original piece of plywood was a bit larger than the more common 4×8 foot sheet. It was, in fact, 5 x 9 feet and it was once the playing surface of a ping-pong table used by the previous occupants. They left it when they moved, probably because the lone occupant was moving to a smaller facility and she had no future desires to play ping-pong. So, I’ve had it stored, on edge, next to the basement stairs for the past 5-6 years. Amazingly, it’s still straight and true.

Cutting proved to be a little problematically because I didn’t have the space to whack it up, and it was far too large for my table saw which made it unnecessary for me to remove all the clutter stored thereon. Plan B turned out to be my handy-dandy B&D jig saw which allowed me to take it apart one piece at a time. I drug the large piece of plywood as close to my shop area as possible then drew random lines on it approximating the six pieces I ultimately obtained from it. Knowing the approximating wasn’t the right thing to do, I got my tape measure and drew nice straight lines … One in the middle across the long way at 30″, and two others for the short side cuts marked at 36″ intervals. In a perfect world that would have resulted in 6 almost perfect 30″ x 36″ pieces. Using a jigsaw to make the cuts, however, doesn’t result in perfect cuts.

After squaring up the pieces, as best I could, I wound up with six 29 1/4″ x 35 3/4″ pieces. I find that remarkable. I also was amazed that they are all within 1/16″ of being square and the same size. A few skinny shims here and there and I’m good. Now all I have to do is decide how many draws and sliding shelves I want so I can finish it, load it, and move on to the other half. Since I don’t have another giant piece of plywood, I’ll have to procure some normal size pieces and make them work.

It’s 1406 in the afternoon and I’m still in my jammies. So is Diane. I’m cooking a chicken so I can make some soup for later, then I’m going to watch Lydia play a basketball game against Silverton. She’s still on the JV team, but rumor has it she will be called up to varsity for the next game. It’s interesting because basketball isn’t her favorite thing to do. She has mixed emotions about the move but we all know she will give it her absolute best effort.

The other day I picked Jeran up from school because Jennifer couldn’t get away from work. When I got him home it was just him and me so we played the piano. He’s been taking lessons for about a year and he’s doing real well. I got to hear his next recital piece, then we messed around playing duets like Chopsticks, and a couple of others I remembered. He’s a quick learner and really enjoys it. The piano he’s using is pretty pitiful, but he doesn’t mind. We got it from a yard sale for $50. I suspect he’s hammered all the spiders, that were living in it, to smithereens so they are no longer a problem.

Now I must desert my bride, who is reviewing one of the many stacks of magazines she’s been saving for moments just like this, crossing her name off the labels in preparation for delivery to the local emergency room and various doctor’s offices in the area. Because of her contributions, many of the doctors have cancelled their own subscriptions. We’ve had threatening phone calls from Publisher’s Clearing House demanding that we cease and desist this practice, but we won’t. That’s a lie, of course. PCH has never called us even once.

Now I must quit and move on to the dead chicken in the boiling pot. It’s been there long enough that I should be able to just pluck out the bones and add the noodles.

Airline Delays, Wood, and H1N1

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OK, I get it that folks might be a little upset about flight delays. I get it that many travelers might have a critical need to arrive at their intended destination at the scheduled time. I get it. The networks love it because I think it gives reporters something to do besides go outside and point out it’s snowing, or raining, or windy. I love when they do that, stick the reporter with the short straw on a hill, next to a freeway, and have them explain what the white stuff is that’s landing on the roads and the danger of not being careful while driving in it.

What I don’t get is those passengers who get all upset with the airlines for cancelling their flight and not getting them another one in its place. It’s like they’re blaming the airline for the crappy weather.  Then there are those who must think their planes fly around everywhere else, so why not fly when it’s 50 below.

No thanks. Not me. I’ll take a bus.

The foregoing, incidentally, is pure conjecture by me. I have no basis in fact for any of it other than what I see and hear on ABC, CBS, NBC, and FOX. All the noise I hear from those stations is consistently the same so at least some of it must be correct with regard to how travelers are playing the “woe is me” card.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not insensitive to their dilemma because I’ve been in it myself. Delayed flights. Rerouted flights. Cancelled flights. It’s just one of those things people should expect when traveling in the ice age. Plan for delays and deal with it. If you make your destination on time, and your luggage arrives at the same time, it’s a good day.

Bottom line on this is that the extraordinarily cold weather isn’t something that can be planned for. Entire cities have shut down because of the cold so I don’t see a problem with airlines doing the same in the name of safety.

Sorry – I meant to touch on that briefly then move on to something else, but the latter got lost in the melee in my head. That, and the ringing in my ears. Both are a bit distracting, making concentration necessary, something I’m normally not very good at. If I have to think about doing something, or how to do something, I’ll usually get it wrong. I do best what I do impulsively, without thought. Granted, impulsive behaviour has placed me in pits of peril more than once, and hindsight always points out the faults with decisions made under those circumstances, but in the heat of the moment, it’s exciting. Kind of an auction mentality where you buy things you really don’t need, or want, because you just can’t keep your hand down.

For the past two days I’ve been installing baseboards. It’s something I’ve been meaning to do for the past 5 years. Baseboards needed to be installed for two reasons: 1) to fill the gaps created when the baseboard heaters were removed, and 2) Diane scrunched her eyes and convinced me it would be a good choice of projects while it’s cold.

Yesterday, I worked in the garage, cutting pieces to length and getting the mitres just right. Since all of yesterday’s work had outside mitres, it wasn’t a big deal. It’s just a simple matter of make two 45 degree cuts, on the correct end of the boards, and shoe moulding, then make them match at the corners. Simple, right? I have to admit that it’s far easier with my cutoff saw than with a manual mitre saw. With the cutoff saw I can come up with a solution much quicker, although it also makes it easier to whittle my way through a pile of wood quicker, too. Here’s some of yesterday’s efforts, the hall to the East Wing …

IMG_0175

I did the entire hallway which included 5 outside corners, and 5 doors. One of the doors is for Diane’s shoe closet. One of these days I might do a post on that.

Today was a bit different because I had to deal with inside miters and chose not to. Instead, I coped the corners because doing so makes them much neater. No 45’s to deal with. I’m not taking a picture of that, yet for two reasons: 1) it’s not finished, and 2) I don’t want to. Yet.

What makes this project particularly difficult is that the existing baseboard is mahogany that was installed in 1957. I’ve tried to acquire more of it, but no one sells it in the dimensions I need to match them up. So, I gathered what I had and pieced them together to fill the gaps in our bedroom, the front hall, and the dining area, but there won’t be enough to do the living room. And, there wasn’t enough to do the hall so I used what I could get from Home Depot that was smaller, but had the same profile. Now all I have to do is engineer it avoid situations where I need to match up old with new because it won’t work.

Our thoughts are with family and friends in the east who are dealing directly with the reality of this Arctic vortex we’re experiencing. We are blessed in our little town because all the bad stuff is just blowing over the top of us. So far. Things can change quickly, however, so we have a plan B should that happen. I don’t know what it is, but we have one somewhere.

Now, about that flu … Oregon has been relatively flu free until recently, but the H1N1 has struck close to home. A good friend, Jeff, is in intensive care at the VA Hospital with pneumonia and H1N1 virus. Diane and I got our flu shots in October when they were first available and, so far, have escaped the bug. We tend to stay home, away from large groups, when this stuff is going around, finding it increases our chances of escaping without catching anything.

Bundle up.

Searches

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Sadly, I haven’t been very productive this year, but I have every intention of turning that around.

Soon.

While being unproductive, I found it necessary to review comments I found on a web site I follow called Slashdot.org. It’s an interesting site that touches on a ton of subjects, many of which interest me. Many of which do not interest me, also. I get daily emails from the site with links to the day’s selected topics.

Like this …

Every once in a while I find one that interest me enough that causes me to read the inevitable comments from people all over the world with wildly varying points of view. The one that caught my eye today was Suspicionless Border Searches of Laptops Ruled Constitutional . Some of you may find that boring in the extreme, and probably rightfully so because I think the minority of people in the world travel without laptops. Tablets and smart phones yes. Lots of them. The ensuing comments regarding this issue, which you can read, if you are moved in that direction, was interesting because they cot into quoting Consitutional Rights, and how risky it is to enter the US with a laptop. Personally I don’t see any problem with that because getting searched when going from one country to another is pretty much routine and expected.
I just don’t see the problem. Your suitcase is going to get searched, too, and everything, including your laptop, is going to get x-rayed. And, if a customs official, from any country, deems that you look a bit “iffy” then you will get more in-depth scrutiny. Some may call that profiling, but I’m OK with the term “gut instinct”. Someone makes a judgement decision and you get to visit with the security team, for whatever country you’re trying to enter, a little longer than most.
Big deal. I’m guessing that most of those spouting about abuse of our rights with regard to this topic would freak out if they found out you can’t take an apple into California from Oregon, Nevada, or Arizona. I’m here to tell  you that I’m less worried about my laptop on entering the USA than I am about attempting to get past the Fruit Guards at the California borders with an unauthorized apple, banana, or orange.
If the guard has a suspicion about you, they’re going to search everything in your vehicle. I think they even have dogs and cats trained in the art of ferreting out hidden fruit. I either read that somewhere or just made it up. Hard to tell. Now, the issue with laptops is that there doesn’t have to be a suspicion to search it. If the guard wants to do it, it’s going to get done.
So, does it concern any of you? The laptop thing, I mean. If you leave the country, are you worried that you might be subject to a frisking, of yourself and your electronic toys?
I’m curious.
Personally, I’m all in favor of frisking, electronically or otherwise. Wave your magic wand over me, or touch me if you must …