Category Archives: Opinions

Christmas Shopping to “Home Free”

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Christmas is almost here and I, unlike most of you, am considering a little shopping trip. Considering, mind you, but not seriously. Oh, there will be a token gift, or two, but nothing major because Diane and I prefer to wait until after Christmas for a couple of reasons. First, we concentrate on kids, no matter what their age is. Second, things are less expensive when we wait.

I guess I’m not in much of a sharing mood because I’m a bit depressed about all those people whose credit card info was mishandled by Target. Thankfully, we’re not in the mix for getting our info snagged because we don’t visit Target often, and the thieves of the world have probably already figured out that infiltrating our personal accounts isn’t really worth their time. So, we rest easy. I don’t like thinking bad thoughts about people, most of the time, but I’d seriously consider Capital Punishment as a proper solution to those who steal identities, and those who find it enjoyable to create and share computer viruses. Yessir. I think for some of the crimes committed we should just revert back to Old Testament justice. You know, the one where an eye for an eye is OK.

For both categories we could develop a special surgery that would safely allow removal of all finger and thumb bones so they could no longer use a keyboard. Maybe a laser. Also, since technology is proliferate with voice recognition they could be fitted with a voice synthesizer that makes them sound like Chewbacca.

So, floppy fingers, no opposing thumbs, and voices that only allow them to yell. I suspect that would make them readily identifiable anywhere. Then we could shun them.

Complicating this train of thought is the sad fact that governments of some countries sanction such activity. I suspect there’s really no way we could enforce my proposals on entire countries, so it’s probably a moot point. Besides, both identity thieves and malware creators have spawned entire industries that work to defeat them. They ensure a lot of people are employed.

I finished Jennifer’s window table. Well, almost. I need to put a fixture on it so the top won’t flop all the way open and break something. Jennifer reads this, but I can talk about it because she wrung it outta me that I was honoring her wish to have one of these. Never done it before, but it seems to have turned out OK. The window is from our last house which was built in 1925.

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Now that “Home Free” has won the Sing Off, we can go to bed. Jerrie’s eyes are tired.

God Bless Mabel.

Church, Pigs, and Heritage

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I didn’t do anything today except go to church. It surprised a lot of people. It’s good we went because Pastor’s birthday was November 1st, All Saints Day, so we got cake. We were actually late for the service because we stopped at Safeway on the way and got the cake. It had raspberry jam in the middle. Very good.

After church, we brought Diane’s Mom, Jean, home with us, just like a normal Sunday. It’s a good day to spend with family. Diane whipped up a terrific lunch of broccoli, carrots (for her), mashed potatoes, applesauce, and pieces of dead pig. We have no idea how long the pig has been dead because the pieces were frozen together so well that she had to use our portable jaws of life to pry them apart so she could fry them. They did, I will add, look a lot like pork chops. Tasted like them, too.

Diane also baked a terrific cherry crunch pie, our favorite from Marie Callender’s. It’s frozen, like the pig parts, and will last pretty much forever. We don’t have them often, but as soon as it’s baked, she buys another one just to have it ready for the next time we decide to have one. Marie also makes a pretty good lemon meringue.

I’m curious about that last word, meringue. I honestly don’t know how something spelled like that can be pronounced like mə-rang, or meˈʁɛ̃ɡ, depending on your nationality. I guess that falls in the category with why me, and most people I know, call Washington Worshington. In know, it’s a pretty minor difference, but I’ve discovered that some Worshingtonians take exception to my pronunciation of their favorite state. Funny how things like that come creeping out of the woodwork, like all the sudden naming conventions for some sports teams are totally unacceptable.

Take the Worshington Redskins, for example. Since that’s a double whammy from me, I wonder if it is, in fact, technically correct, kinda like a double negative. You know, like saying, “I ain’t no idiot!” or, more grammatically correct, “I am not no idiot!”

In my humble opinion, I think the ACLU need for everyone to be politically correct in all things is getting out of hand. The Redskins? Really? I heard one Native American on the news say that referring to her as a Redskin was the same as using the “N” word for an African-American. All my life the Redskins were a football team. I don’t believe I actually connected the name to ‘real’ Native Americans until someone complained about it.

Here’s another one that kinda frosts me … African-American. Native American, I get. They were here first, I think, and Columbus thought he’d landed in India. So, those he me when he got off the boat really aren’t Indians. If he had known where he was, he would have called them New Worldians. But African-Americans, to me, is an odd naming convention. If we are going to begin adding our nationality to what we are as Americans, I must be a European American. That’s because I only know what half my heritage is. There could possibly be some African in there somewhere that would make me, say, an Afro-Euro American. Then there’s gotta be Canadian-American, South American-American, Russian-American, Australian-American, Japanese-American, Chinese-American, and oh ya, Indian-American. Love that last one.

Actually, using the African-American naming convention, all of us have only one of seven choices for picking our nationality, based on where we were born.

  • Africans
  • Antarcticans
  • Asians
  • Australians
  • Europeans
  • North Americans
  • South Americans

If you find it necessary to qualify your continent, based on heritage, then I guess I’m a European-North American. But, most forms ask us about Nationality, not Heritage.

I’m getting used the name changes, slowly, and honestly do not have a problem with most of the hoopla surrounding it. It just seems, to me, that too much effort is being devoted to making it all a big deal. I’ve, personally, got more important things to worry about. If you’re offended, I’m sorry, and you have permission to call me absolutely anything you want. If you do that, don’t expect a reaction from me if your intent is to offend me, it’s a wasted effort. I’m a honky, whitey, haole, whatever. It’s not going to affect me or how I act. Honest. I’ll still do dumb things and might even reinforce whatever pet name with which you wish to anoint me.

Wow! I have no idea where that soap box came from?

OK – I understand why people, all of them, have a tribal need, if you will, to identify with their heritage. That’s fine. I think I’ll start putting down Oregonian-North American on forms that ask for race. One of my brothers is Nebraskan-North American, and another is Wyomingan-North American. I’m the only one in my family who married a woman of the same race as me. Diane is also an Oregonian-North American.

This is just getting stupid and I cannot find a safe way to extract myself from this topic other than to just quit. I regret going down that rabbit hole, and mean no offense to rabbits by using that term.

And, I apologize to all the pigs, cows, chickens, and turkeys of the world because at some point in my life I will consume some of you and/or your offspring. I really don’t think you care about it, but there it is.

I must quit.

I’m A Weeble? Really?

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This morning Diane called me a Weeble when she warned the dog to look out because I was wobbling around a bit in order to position myself to give Panzee a belly rub with my foot. Yes, I wobble, which is not a surprise to many people, just to those who fleetingly viewed me as a solid, stand up citizen. No, I’m not one of those. I’m a citizen, true, and I stand up for our flag, but I’m far from solid.

I sway in a gentle breeze, turning to the left, mostly, but also to the right, if the wind is right, causing Diane less and less concern as she gets used to my new abilities related to vertical acuity, and not embarrassing her by falling in public. I’ve only done that once, but cannot remember the occasion because it was insignificant. A mere blip on my radar that went mostly unnoticed be everyone except the girl who screamed.

Calling me a Weeble makes me wonder if there is more to the name than a quick look could ascertain. Everyone knows what a Weeble is, right? You know, “Weebles Wobble But They Don’t Fall Down”? Remember that? Everyone had to have them because they were so cute, and they couldn’t be knocked over.

However, after being compared to one this morning, the name has been circling in my head wondering if there is an underlying meaning to her comparison. Just a moment ago I realized that she’s making a reference to my less than adequate sized testicles. What she’s really saying is wee balls. That’s got to be it. I’ll confront her in a couple of weeks about her underhanded name calling, if I remember. Or, perhaps within a few moments of her reading this, as I know she will.

In my youth, I was able to walk straight down that thin, well-defined line of decorum, never causing anyone on either side grief, or dismay about what I said or did. With Diane’s back-handed reference comparing me to a Weeble one might think, on the surface, that she’s concerned about me straddling the line, more than walking it, due to the increasing wobble in my gait as age overtakes me, and my brain isn’t quick enough to interpret my balance correctly causing it to over correct. It’s like the cruise control in Diane’s Buick that works just fine until a hill appears, then the vehicle slows down from 55 to 50, then shifts and speeds up to 60+ before settling back down to 55 just before the hill is crested. Doing that causes problems for everyone on both sides of the line defined specifically for me, for my passage through this life.

No, it’s not about that at all. It’s all about the size of one’s testicles. I’m sure.

That’s all I got for now. Later we’re going to Portland to have lunch with some southern relatives, Diane’s side, from Arizona – Julie, Duncan, and Jake. We’ll also get to see Bill, Carolyn, Terri, and Lisa. We’re eating Italian at Nona Whats-its-place in Beaverton.

Now I’m going to stop, get a mirror, and contemplate my Weebles.

My Skin, and Politics

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Apparently I’m not going to die from the bee stings after all. I guess the bees that got me had depleted venom supplies, except for the one that viciously attacked my hand. He had a full load and injected  every bit of it. The ones who stabbed me in the neck were less problematic. They just left bumps that don’t itch, and only hurt, a lot, when they attempted to inject.

The dermatologist I saw today came in armed with her freeze gun and happily froze whatever I wanted frozen, in the way of annoying spots. The first thing she did, however was check my entire body for spots she considered to be a potential problem. As I recall, she nailed at least six of them. One was on my lip so, despite the bee’s unwillingness to sting me on the face, I wound up with a pouty lip after all. Nice.

I didn’t mention that last night I slept for about nine hours, straight, which is a modern-day record for me. The dogs didn’t even wake me up this morning. I guess Benadryl and ambien work pretty well together. I’m sure that’s why. It’s all about better living through chemistry.

After the dermatology event, we went to the Restore Store. I know Diane had something in mind when we went, and she even told me, but all I know is we came out with two chairs for our new dining room table. We needed those because the 8 we had with the other table went away with the table, as you may recall. We actually found a couple that look OK at the table. Now we have 4 chairs at the table.

Oh, and I got a huge light bulb for the huge socket I have in the basement. It’s 175 watts so should cast a really good shadow behind whatever it shines on. I may even go blind from staring at it. I think it says that on the box.

Once home, we ate lunch – I had the remainder of yesterday’s steak and Diane had a grilled cheese sandwich. Then watched TV the rest of the afternoon.

That’s pretty much the day, except for the part about Diane making a lot of noise when she breathes. I knew she was having trouble because she wasn’t fast forwarding through the commercials. She was sleeping, instead. The rattle was getting worse, so I hooked up her nebulizer and forced her to inhale deeply.

I didn’t force her to do anything. I just hooked it up and she did what needed to be done. She will be fine in the morning.

So – how is the government shutdown affecting you? I don’t recall voting for that, or telling my congressman or senator that I thought it would be a good idea for them to fiddle with my life in this manner. They didn’t eve ask me. For that, I’m upset.

If only they would have come to me …

I think we should just do away with everyone in Washington D.C. … fire them all. Then, divide the USA into three parts based on time zones and name them something catchy, like USA-1, 2, 3, 4, reading left to right on pretty much any time zone map. By default, Alaska, Hawaii and Guam would become part of USA-1. Puerto Rico would be part of USA-4. There would be no more DST changes to clocks. Everyone would just keep using the same time for their zone all the time, like Arizona and Hawaii do now. Each zone would select two people to cover the entire zone for taxes and expenditures. No spending would be allowed unless cleared through me because I would be the king.

I think it’s time to wrap this up. Perhaps I’ll come up with a more creative way to resolve the government’s problem while I sleep.

Phlebotomy, The Garage, and Pac12

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It’s a dreary day here in paradise, but we don’t mind. We don’t mind, you understand, because there’s really nothing we can do about it. If it’s going to be dreary, it’s what it is. No amount of whining, or complaining is going to change it. That’s what I’ve been told and I believe it. Makes life much more pleasant and it really makes one appreciate a nice, sunny day.

In Oregon, at least our part of it, car washes are very popular because at the first hint of sunshine, even if it’s for half a day, there’s a lineup at every one of them. Most people don’t want to drive around in a dirty car, especially Diane. Me? I don’t particularly care if my car is dirty or not. I don’t know why that is. Might be because it’s a 1996 Subaru with lots of dents so the dirt kind of hides the damage and lets me forget that I might have to do something about that some day.

Diane’s at the doctor’s office. Actually, she went to the doctor’s office this morning. Right now she’s delivering a stack of magazines to the lab waiting room where she went to visit one of the phlebotomists that works there. Her doctor told her to do this and she always does what her doctor tells her to do, most of the time. So do I. Always.

While Diane was at the doctor this morning, I carved out a spot in the garage so I could get the lawn mower out of the weather for the winter. Last year it lived on the lower patio, but that’s not an option this year. So, it’s going in the garage, next to the player piano. One of these days I’m going to have to get that thing into the basement where I can warm it up and actually work on it once in a while. That was the plan, five years ago, and is still the plan today. Might take the organ to the basement, too. I’ve probably said that before. Maybe one day it’ll actually happen.

When Diane left to visit the phlebotomist this afternoon, I did some more cleaning in the garage, and guess what!? There’s a door in there that opens to the porch outside the kitchen door. I actually knew there was one there because I could see it from outside. But, it’s behind the garbage can so it was never interesting enough to uncover on the garage side. Today I did it and I think I’ll be using it more often in the future. I don’t know why, but I suspect I will.

I don’t think I mentioned that I’m getting a new iPad on Friday. This will be my third one, and it’s going to be the 4th generation unit.  Getting insurance on the first one gave me the 2nd one after I discovered the 1st one didn’t float in the hot tub. I’ve had the 2nd one for almost two years without error, but I dropped it a couple of weeks ago, as I’m prone to do, and it dented up one of the corners. Since then, the little button on the bottom, that has a name I can’t remember, doesn’t work consistently. So, when we were in Portland the other day, Diane let me go to Best Buy where I talked with one of the head Geeks to explain what happened. He was sympathetic, and ultimately agreed that it was going to fail worse almost any time soon. Since I had insurance on it, too, it was pretty much a done deal. So, Friday I’ll have to figure out how to set one of those up, all over again. That will be fun.

Just so you know, Lexi, Kristen’s little girl, knows how to dial a cell phone. She called us about 8 times tonight before Kristen got the phone away from her. We knew it was Lexi because she was making baby noises since, well, she’s a baby. A tricky one, too. Kristen, by the way, is Daniel’s younger sister. They have a brother, Ron, who graduated from Oregon State but remained a staunch Duck fan the entire time. Brave man. He’s an engineer, now. I finally called Kristen’s phone and she answered to clear things up with Lexi. Now we can relax knowing Kristen is OK. It was a concern for a while, there.

Tomorrow I may power wash the lawn mower and put it away in the hole I dug in the garage. My fear regarding that evolution is that the sun will come up and cause the grass to grow mega fast which would require me to get the mower dirty, again. But, I’ll do what ever I have to do to keep the grass in check.

I’m also going to make the Winnebago ‘move’ tomorrow and put it back in the driveway where it belongs. That will involve reinstalling the portion of the driveshaft that Bob removed before he towed it home. He was going to put it back, but I told him I’d do it. Should have let him do it, huh? When that’s installed, I’ll figure out the fuel problem so the engine will start. Might take the mechanical fuel pump off, too, and see if the new one I have looks anything like it. If so, I’ll install it, too.

I can’t do this any more. Girls are playing volleyball on the Pac12 Network.

Rain, Wind, Home Depot, and Barry Manilow

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It was a very rainy, and windy day here in River City. That not totally true because it’s not really River City, it’s still St. Helens. But, the town resides on the western shore of the Columbia River, where it flows north from Portland to Longview, so it’s also known as River City. Just thought I’d share that with you for clarification.

This morning at church Diane, her Mom, Jean, and I provided all the snacks for the coffee hour after the service. My job was to carry the bag of food to the basement then get out of the way until I was called to do something. That moment came as soon as everyone, all 30 of them, had made their way through the line once. Then Diane and Jean abandoned me, leaving me alone with two very hot coffee pots, decaf and regular, trusting me to not burn anyone. I did them proud by not doing that and I even got a little cocky and poured left-handed. Though I’m sure I’ve done it before, I have no memory of it. I even did an old trick I’ve used, not overly popular by most of the recipients, by filling Nancy’s cup to the tippy top, so full that picking it up bordered on dangerous. I didn’t burn her, though. That trick I developed while in the Navy aboard ship. Invariably, when someone fills their cup with coffee, someone is waiting right behind to fills theirs. Having the pot already in your hand, it’s an accepted practice to fill the cup of at least the next person in line. When it was me doing the filling, I poured them a heaping cup full. Really. Heaping full. If you fill a cup all the way to the top, and look at it sideways, it almost looks like the liquid is above the cup rim. The fun part at sea is watching the person ask you to stop well before it’s full, but continue anyway. They never once pulled their cup away, but allowed me to fill it all the way up, calling me some pretty creative names as I calmly put the pot back, and watched as they did their best to get the cup to their lips without spilling anything. Consider, too, that the ship is moving all the time. Sometimes in predictable directions. To their credit, everyone who had the misfortune of having me fill their cups in the Goat Locker (Chief’s Mess) never spilled a drop. That comes from experience. They also learned quickly to just wait until I put the pot down so they could fill their own cups. I guess what I did may be construed as mean, but I treated it like a training session.

Once the church was all cleaned up and locked, we dropped by the house to let the dogs out for a bit, then headed to Longview for an expensive visit to Home Depot. I got some baseboard wood, and shoe moulding, and Diane got paint. I think the way she picked it was to look at the price and go for the most expensive thing they sold. Of course, that’s untrue. We had previously agreed on the Behr brand, and the color, so it was OK.

Wood, in case you didn’t know it, is no longer cheap like it used to be. That’s true for everything, I know, but here in the Great Northwest, where people grow trees for a living, you’d think wood might not be so expensive. But, it is. Kinda makes me want to get a big saw and start making my own lumber, but we don’t have our own trees so I guess that wouldn’t work. I don’t know where this is going, so I’m shifting gears ..,

Diane was sad that her new iPhone didn’t have any music on it. Specifically, Barry Manilow singing “All I have to do is dream”, for her alarm clock. All of that music is still on her old phone, which is now mine, but there’s no way to transfer that information from one phone to another. Music must be added from iTunes, as in the iTunes on the computer from which it was originally added. At least that’s my understanding. If there’s another way, and you know what it is, I’m interested in hearing about it.

The problem, you see, is that we replaced Diane’s computer not long ago because she fussed about how long it took to do ‘stuff’, and it was always doing something she didn’t want it to do. And, a crucial bit of software needed for updating Windows XP self destructed so the computer was missing the daily critical security updates needed to keep the gremlins away. Her new computer is Windows 8 all in one Samsung with a touch screen. She’s getting used to it, but it tends to give her fits once in a while, too.

The old computer is in the basement, so I paid it a long visit so I could snag all those songs and put them on her new computer. Actually, the last two old computers, plus about 12 hard drives of questionable vintage, two laptops, and three monitors, were scattered around just waiting for me to find the time to see how they work now. Having a goal in mind made checking them much easier because not having one allows my mind to wander a bit and I tend to just take them apart. That’s why there are so many old hard drives lying around. They came from old computers that I’ve acquired over the years. I tore a couple of the hard drives apart to get the excellent magnets out of them just for fun. They are pretty powerful. I heard that it really hurts if you sandwich you ear lobe between them and let go. It’s true. It hurts a lot.

Anyway, the old PC booted right up but, guess what. I had apparently removed all the music from the computer. There was no iTunes, there were no tunes, period. That was true for the other old PC I found. So, I got busy checking all the old CDs lying around down there, looking for anything that had “Music” written on it. I found a few, but nothing with Barry Manilow.

In a panic, I felt the walls closing in on me because I couldn’t find Barry. Then I remembered the CDs we own and actually found them in a nifty little rack that’s hidden in a corner with all the kids toys and games that never get used. A quick search led me to a Barry disc which had the correct song on it. I was saved! I rushed it to her computer with the secure knowledge that I wouldn’t have to sleep on the porch, which pleased me because it’s a bit chilly out there. And wet.

The import went really well after I discovered how to open the CD tray on her computer. There’s no handy little button in the vicinity of the drive to push for it to open. Finally, in iTunes, I discovered that it’s simply a matter of pressing Ctrl-E on the keyboard. Good to know. She now has 154 songs on her computer, and sync’d her phone so they are now also available for her to use.

She can’t, however, stick her new phone it the little Bose speaker base I got her for Christmas a couple of years ago because, Apple changed the adapter on the new phones. Nifty, huh? They have adapters, I know, but we don’t have one of those, yet.

This afternoon I also had a wonderful conversation with Gretchen, one of my co-workers while I was employed at PGE. We worked together for many, many, many years. Well, maybe only many, many years. It was good to catch up on what’s going on with her and her family. I know she’s one of the 4-5 people who read this so I must let her know that we talked for 42 minutes and 43 seconds. I know that because Diane’s phone told me so when we ended the call. That’s not a complaint or criticism, just a fact. So, Diane’s phone is now properly broken in.

Here it is, almost 10 pm, and we’re picking up a friend, Mary, at 0600 in the morning to deliver her to PDX. She’s going on a Panama Canal Cruise. That’s the next cruise Diane wants to take because she’s always talking about it. When she does, I point out that I’ve already done that, in 1967, and it wasn’t really a big deal. It’s just really narrow in spots. But, it would, I admit, be interesting to do it again.

I must really quit, and crash. I’ll let you know how tomorrow goes.

Just for fun, here are some of the pets hanging around this place. There are lots of iguanas, too. Big ones, too. When they hear the click of a camera, they come running to get their reward. We don’t know what that is, however, so we just depart quickly. there are a few around that are 3 feet long and they are very homely looking creatures. I was going to say ‘ugly’, but I’m not sure if they have internet access or not, and don’t want to get into trouble.

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Tiki Torches, The Moon, VA, Shopping, and Dinner

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Greetings fellow astronauts. I hope all is well with you as we zoom through the outer reaches of space, under our very own moon, which just happens to be full at this very moment. It’s lighting up our back yard as if it’s lined with tiki torches. I really don’t have any experience with tiki torches other than the ones that were lit in our presence while visiting Hawaii once.

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… and tiki torches are as much fun as the company we keep while in their presence … I was in heaven …

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So, here’s what the moon looked like, kinda. It’s ‘kinda’ because the photo is from June 22nd, the last time I took a picture of the moon. I’m not often compelled to take pictures of the moon because I see it all the time. When it’s not cloudy, anyway.

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All of the foregoing was from last night. I had to quit and go to bed because Diane told me to. We had a date with the vet for Breezie to catch up on her shots. She spent the night inside last night, which was unusual for her. But, the weather is changing, getting cooler, and she’s not dumb. She knows it’s OK to spend the night outside when it’s warm, not so good when it’s cold. Her appointment was at 0900 so when she went out with the dogs, at 0600, I cautioned her to be back before 0830 or she would be in deep kim chee. There’s nothing worse than that, in my humble experience.

As the morning progressed, I lay snoozing in my favorite spot in the living room. Then Diane’s phone beeped, and my iPad beeped, alerting us to the pending trip to the vet. I let the dogs out again, with explicit instructions to bring the cat back, but they didn’t. Apparently they couldn’t find her anywhere in the back yard. I didn’t believe them, but it turned out to be true because not long after they returned to the house, Breezie came slinking through the fence where the dogs can’t go. I should have believed them, I guess, but they generally aren’t very truthful in situations like that because their main focus is to get a treat for just going outside when I ask. They expect it every time, but only get one on the last trip before bedtime. You’d think they would learn.

So, the cat’s back, her kennel is clean, and we head for the doc. It was a fairly quiet trip with only an occasional “Roowaaar” indicating her displeasure about being locked up. At the vet it wasn’t a problem. She weighed in at 10 lbs, which surprised Diane because she looks skinny. She took her shots like a man, and even gulped down her pills without much fuss. Then we took her home and set her free.

Apple released IOS7 yesterday for all their hand-held devices so me, being on the cutting edge of technology, and not in the least bit afraid of change, immediately downloaded it onto my iPad and broken iPhone. I also put it on Diane’s iPad. We both like the new look and functionality. I couldn’t put it on Diane’s iPhone because there’s not enough memory available to do it. She’s got too much stuff on her phone. It is, however, one with the least memory available at the time, 8 GB, I think, so all I have to do is just start deleting random things until the update can be installed.

You needed to know all of that.

Now, the day is about done, and we’re both almost in our jammies. I’m not, she is. We just got home from leaving the dogs alone for almost 8 hours today. Lots of stuff got done and I just can’t wait to tell you about it.

Our first stop of the day was the Restore Store in St. Helens, but we didn’t find anything we had to have, so headed to the VA Hospital on Pill Hill in Portland where I got a new picture taken for my new VA card because I lost the one I had. I also lost my ACE card at the same time. They just fell out of my wallet someplace so I removed everything from that wallet, which I purchased at a flea market in San Diego. Now I’m using one Diane gave me that Avon sells. It works well. Everything fits nice and tight. So far.

After the VA we worked our way over to Hillsboro to do a little looking at their Restore Store. Diane found a bunch of bottles of cleaning ‘stuff’, and we each got a different chair for our computer tables. The ones we had were OK, but too big. The ones we bought, $10 each, were from some business that apparently replaced all of their conference room chairs. They had a bunch of them.

From that store we worked our way toward 73rd and Frances Street to meet up with Rick and Jodi at their home. We planned to be there by 3 pm, but a pool supply store got in the way and required me to buy some new temp sensors for the hot tub. Not a cheap stop, but if it resurrects the hot tub, it will be worth every penny.

We arrived at R & J’s about 3:06 pm. They were sitting on their front porch looking at their watches when we drove up. We joined them and visited for a while, then investigated all the work Rick has done around the house. Their house, incidentally, looks brand new, and the hot tub has its own house that matches the big one. Diane wanted me to see all of that so I would feel bad about our yard, but it didn’t work because there’s really no comparison. You see, where we have lots of grass, R & J have lots of rocks and cement. They do have a lawn, but I bet it almost takes longer to get the mower started than it does to mow it. This sounds bad, I know, but I don’t think Rick will mind. Their place is awesome.  It would be fun to have a yard that we could clean up with a leaf blower to dust off the rocks once in a while.

OK, Rick, now I’ll apologize for that outburst. It wasn’t justified, and we love you both dearly. You know that. My fingers just get out of control some times, ya know?

OK – after visiting for a while, we headed out to Bugatti’s for dinner. This is the one on Cornell near the Tanesbourne Mall area. The food was outstanding, but the visit was better. When we were seated, the place was nearly empty. I ordered spaghetti with prawns, Diane had a piece of dead chicken nicely splayed and arrayed on top of some green rigatoni, Rick has a HUGE meat ball sandwich with really good french fries, and Jodi had an artichoke sandwich with chicken, I think. I’m the only one who ate everything. Everyone else got  boxes to go. We visited all through the meal and Diane didn’t once reprimand me for speaking with my mouth full of food. Then we visited for about an hour after we were all done. By the time we were done visiting, the waiter had made about 10 passes with the water jug, silently urging us to depart. By this time the place was packed. Totally. I guess it was time for us to leave, so we did.

We drove home, without stopping, and were greeted by the two barky dogs. Panzee is just so overjoyed to see us, whether we’ve been gone a minute, or a week. Ozzie? He barks his hello, but he just walks on past us, barking randomly, making his way to the front yard so he can relieve himself. Too funny. Breezie was sleeping on the back porch and has ignored us since we got home. No doubt she’s sleeping off the three shots she got this morning.

Once everyone was settled down, I checked the front porch and guess what? Diane’s new iPhone 5C was laying right there in the open for anyone to snatch. But they didn’t because no one comes up our street unless they live there. Nice being on a dead-end. Her new phone is yellow, her favorite color. I’ve been trying to figure it out since we got home.

Now it’s 10 pm and time for me to quit and go to sleep.

Dr. Grimm, Mowing, Gas Lines, Golf, Painting, Cats, etc …

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I want to thank all three of you who check in every day and see if I’m still ticking. I appreciate it. Knowing you do gives me an incentive to honor your quest for useless information. The last few days have been difficult which is why I haven’t been around much.

It started with the tooth Dr. Grimm ripped out of my head. At the time, it didn’t hurt at all. It didn’t even hurt bad the next day, but as the week progressed it hurt more and more until I was on the verge of a migraine all the time. Not quite there, mind you, but close, and I knew it was coming from the area of the tooth I gave up for adoption.

Actually, I didn’t do that. The tooth is laying calmly on my computer desk inside a sandwich bag. One of these days I’ll hide it under my pillow and see if there really is a tooth fairy. That would be a dumb thing to do, however, because I’d only get a quarter, or maybe a $1 and, with its gold crown, that thing cost me about $900. Maybe I’ll put it up for sale on eBay so some person, who has a tooth fetish, can get me my money back.

Anyway, the pain was getting worse each day and finally Diane’d had enough and forced me to call Dr. Grimm so he could check it out. Being a good husband, I did as she ‘suggested’, and got an appointment for the same day. That was yesterday. We had a nice visit during which he told me the extraction site looked excellent, and everything was healing nicely. As for the pain, he suggested face and neck massage to relax the muscles in my jaw, which he could see were clenching and unclenching, something I wasn’t aware of. And, he gave me a script for cyclobenzaprine, a muscle relaxer. Since I had a vague memory of taking this before, for back spasms, I thought, “Why not?”

I related all of this to Diane upon my return and she asked if I had the prescription. I didn’t. It was folded neatly inside my iPad, which I take everywhere with me, except golfing. I don’t take it golfing. Perhaps I should. It might like it.

So, she sent me back to town to do four things …

  1. Drop my script at Rite Aid
  2. Go to Safeway and get bananas
  3. Go to Taco Bell and get us lunch
  4. Go back to Rite Aid and pick up my drugs
  5. Go home

OK – that’s five things. I added #5 because I think it should be included on all lists for trips as an indication that one is actually allowed to do that. Go home, that is. Sometimes people are allowed to do that and it would be nice to know. It’s not a given, you know.

When I got home, Diane immediately made me eat something so I could take one, which I did. I waited for a few minutes for something to happen, but it didn’t, so I got some wrenches, went outside, and climbed under the ’79 Winnebago to see if I could determine if the fuel tank switch functioned. Now you’re shaking your heads, I know, wondering what I was thinking, and how could Diane allow me to do that while under the influence. Well, after I took the pill, she left, so I mowed the yard. All of it.

OK – now I’m getting confused. I know I did both of those things yesterday, but don’t recall the sequence. Now I think I mowed first, THEN worked under the Winnebago. No, it was the Winnebago, first, then the lawn. That’s because she returned from a trip to ‘someplace’ while I was working under the RV, and asked me how it was going. I was almost finished putting the fuel line all back together, knowing the fuel transfer switch was working properly, and that gas was coming down the line from the aux tank. I know the latter because I blew into the line and gas came spurting back at me, soaking my jeans. But the electric fuel pump still wouldn’t pump the gas, so I’ve got to figure something else out. I figure the electric pump is better at pushing gas than pulling it when it isn’t primed.

After that, I started mowing the yard, at Diane’s request, then she left to take her Mom, Jean, to the store. When she returned the lawn was done and I watched her make an attempt to back the Buick into the garage so it would be easier to empty the goods …

No … I think the store trip was today. Yesterday, after the pill took effect, I just kinda layed around doing nothing, and the pain subsided a great deal. Then I went to bed.

Yes, the store was today. I think. No, I golfed this morning. Had to’ve been yesterday. Diane will clear this up, I’m sure. We also applied another coat of paint to our hall, and the cats started migrating back to their proper place in the display cabinet.

There was a report on the evening news about two fans who wrote a letter to the editor of a (the?) San Francisco newspaper complaining about the noise level at the Seahawks home game against the 49ers, and various ways NFL management could deal with excessive noise. There’s speculation that the letter may have been submitted as satire, giving the 49ers (Jean’s favorite team, by the way – not Diane’s Mom, Jean, but the other one) another reason for losing the game 29-3.

I figure it was a good way to get people’s minds off all the flooding, misery, killings, and wrecks going on in other parts of the country.

Since it was San Francisco, it also made me think of Kathie’s impending trip to that fine city to search for a new elbow. We hope she finds a good one.

l took another pill about 1/2 hour ago and itsssß staringot make me wooosie. Did you knøw thæt if ÿøü hołd dowń a lėttęr on your keeybord you get some îńtëréštïñg čhøīçêś fõr åłtérñātę łëttèrś?????????????

Viagra, Painting The Hall, and The Winnebago

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yogurt, Bananas, My Barber, and 9/11

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Here it is, 0636 in the morning, and I’m not napping. This doesn’t bode well for a normal day. I think at least part of this problem is that we have no more bananas, and no more yogurt, the only two things in my life that I can count on to be the same for me everyday. I must sit here, bananaless and yogurtless, staring out the window at a crystal clear sunrise. It’s actually not really crystal clear, but more like one of those paintings you see that have layers of hills superimposed on each other that simply fade to sky in the distance. It’s quite pretty, but not nearly as attractive as a firm banana. Or a raspberry Tillamook yogurt.

The street lights are still on in the lower neighborhoods, and there are cell towers scattered amongst the trees, poking their heads up, searching for cell phones to assault with their electronic spurts of energy that mimic familiar voices, and relay the illusion of communication in the form of a non-stop stream of text messages. Actually, texting is communication because information is being shared, questions asked and answered, and senders have the option of using cute little smiley faces that serve nicely as the emotional aspect of this form of silent ‘talking’. It’s really the same as sending an email, just more fun.

My eye isn’t throbbing this morning so I suspect the memory of the missing tooth is fading from my upper jaw. Soon, the toothless pit will level out and fill in with nice pink gum material, removing all traces that a tooth was ever there.

I impulsively went to my barber today and we talked about all kinds of things. I’ve reported in the past that Curt is a wealth of information on pretty much anything. Mostly, what interests me, talking with him about quantum theory. Since it’s theory, we can make it into anything we want. We agree that everything in the universe is connected at the lowest level, and all of those tiny, tiny little ‘things’ have all the information about all things. I wish I could remember everything he talked about today, but there was just so much that my brain got full. What I do know is that my haircut took about 1.5 hours and only cost me $10. Going there is like a mini vacation.

Diane was pleased that I got my haircut. I have to admit that she’s been very tolerant about not reminding me every day that I should get it whacked off. Instead, she has just been ignoring it. He tactic worked, of course, so I got it cut. It was getting to be a real mess and had to go. Now I’m bald.

Today it was 95 in Portland, but more like 115 where we live. I don’t know if that’s accurate, but it seemed like it because I spent most of it outside cutting wainscoting for The Bathroom. Daniel and I got it all cut so it’s ready to install. We cut the baseboard, too. Tomorrow we’ll remove the sinks and the toilet and get it all installed, lickity split. Then I’m going to caulk every crack I can find and call it done. Oh, and we’ll put the sinks back, too. Maybe even the toilet, if all goes well. Actually, it has to be done tomorrow because that’s the dead line Jennifer set. Neither Daniel nor I are willing to take a chance and exceed that deadline, so we will get it done. I’m sure.

Today is September 11th, a sad day for the USA. Where were you when the towers fell? I was getting ready for work, watching the news, when the first one went down. Then I drove to work and watched the 2nd one fall on a conference room TV in the Portland World Trade Center. Kind of odd that I worked at the Portland WTC at the time. It made it a little more personal. At the time, I had a ground floor office with a window – a real treat for me. It was just tons of fun watching some of our future leaders walk by, catch my eye, then got through their just absolutely hilarious pantomime of something blowing up. I’m not a violent person, but I would have had no problem providing a life lesson to those little chumps. Problem was, of course, had I done something in retaliation for something as benign as that, I would have wound up in jail. Probably sued, too. So, I just spewed evil thoughts in their direction as they pranced by. Such cute, totally unaware young people. I wonder what they’re doing now. Probably part of the crowd that’s causing such a problem for Portland City Hall. Thankfully, that’s not something that hits too close to home for us, but we watch it, just the same. Mainly because that’s what’s on the news.

Nothing interesting ever happens in St. Helens. Well, maybe a homicide once in a while, or really amazing accidents caused by amazingly stupid people. That’s not unique to us, of course. That’s pretty universal. Just thinking about the homicides brings Chicago to mind. Guess they have more than a few of those in short periods of time.

Sorry about all the doom and gloom. I try to stay upbeat, but it’s difficult sometimes.

Gotta quit, now. Diane just returned with supper. We were going to have corn on the cob and spaghetti, but time got away from me while I brushed the dickens out of Panzee, so it was easier to go get a hamburger. A Tillamook Cheese Burger, to be precise.

Now I must eat and watch TV.