Category Archives: Opinions

Good News, Bad News, & Hotness

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Those of you who know me, or have read the frivolous things I’ve written about, understand I’m not the guy who routinely goes down a serious road. I work more on the positive side of life because I like it better there. It’s more fun and, I hope, provides an opportunity for you to join me there, for a moment, and find a reason to smile. I have no other motive. It’s really that simple. I’m here to counteract just a little bit of the negative aspects of living on planet Earth, deflecting them into outer space, replacing them with happy thoughts.

For just a moment …

It’s brief, I know, and won’t last, because I’m just one old guy pecking away on his computer, trying his best to get along. In order for efforts like mine to make even a tiny impact on anything, we’d need a really large herd of old guys with metaphorical peckers like mine, doing what I do. Better yet, a really large herd of girls and guys, young or old.

I share that bit of information because of recent events in Ferguson, a suburb of St. Louis, that hit home for some reason. I’m sure most everyone in the USA has seen something on the news about this. What happened isn’t unique, but it’s still very sad and far more satisfying for news folks to share than the 100’s of good things that no doubt happened in that same neighborhood, before and after the reported event.

What kind of response would you expect for a newspaper, or newsletter, that reported only good events and things? I thought I might take a stab at culling the internet for happy “stuff” and make a newsletter to share all of it. But, gee!, it’s already been done.

Check out these links.

Good News … Happy News … Positive News … Amazing News

Kinda makes the world a better place, doesn’t it?

On a more personal note, I must report that I’ve been trapped in the house for the last few days because of the weather. Diane won’t let me go outside to work because it’s too hot and she doesn’t think she could drag me back inside before I melt if I were to pass out. So, I’m stuck in the house until the temps drop back into the low 70’s. That means I’m going to get a fairly long vacation and won’t be able to go outside to take care of some waterproofing issues until it starts to rain. Makes sense, right?

Now I’m going to watch TV for a while. Not news.

Beware !

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Just so you know, danger, in the form of a cute blond girl, lurks the hi-ways and by-ways of our little city.

Lydia got her driver’s permit.

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I’m confident that she will do just fine and obey all the rules but feel it’s only fair that everyone know. I’m sure she’s been warned to watch out for all of you, too.

Golf, Baseball, & Thieves

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Yesterday I was forced to participate in a golf tournament at the Wildwood Golf Course which everyone in the country knows is located on the West side of Highway 30 not too far past the truck scales on the way to Portland from Scappoose. Most everyone of importance also knows that Jack & Wynette had their wedding reception in the Wildwood Club House which was located right next to Highway 30. At some point in the future, it mysteriously burned down, the golf course receded back into the forest, lost & forgotten, and was ultimately resurrected and expanded into an 18-hole course that careens through a small valley, and up and down hills. The current owner is, in my opinion, an abject jerk, so I don’t go there often. I may never go there again, for that reason. One person mentioned that he’s a “money whore,” which was confirmed by his willingness to insert walk-on golfers into the midst of the tournament we were involved in. Nice.

The tournament was a version of best ball, and it was gratifying to me that a couple of my balls were deemed best. That just means that I hit my ball better than those in our foursome so everyone was allowed to hit their next shot from that spot. I even made a few pretty good chip shots onto the green. My foursome was composed of Doug & Jim, high school classmates, and George, a person none of us had ever met until tee time. All in all, it was a good day.

On the way home I followed Doug home so I could check Carolyn’s computer to see why her Gmail wouldn’t appear. She wasn’t there when we arrived, but her computer was energized so I hit a few keys, clicked the Gmail icon and it popped up quite smartly. When Doug saw this he went, “Hmmm. She must have figured it out.” Then we sat in the living room and visited for a while. Then I went home to play in the dirt for a while before cleaning up to attend Lydia’s soccer game.

Before getting dirty, I took my mid day pills. Shortly thereafter, we went to Diane’s Mom’s, Jean’s, house for a visit where I promptly fell asleep. Then we went to the soccer game which wound up in a 2-2 tie. They played against the 14U rec league team and Lydia played goalie the whole game. Since it was a practice game, and most of those on the 14U team are in-coming St. Helens freshmen this year, the goalies switched sides at half time. The second half Lydia had to block against the varsity team and that’s when she gave up the two goals. But, she blocked about 20 shots. She did good.

Back at home, I had a hard time staying awake so decided to go to bed. It was then I discovered that I had taken my sleeping pill, the dreaded Ambien, somewhere around 3 pm. So, the erratic behavior Diane witnessed was totally not my fault. I slept through the night anyway, which surprised me.

This morning I got back into my morning nap routine and didn’t go out to get dirty and sweaty until 10 am or so. Consequently, I only got about 4 hours in before it was deemed time to eat lunch. We had Taco Bell tacos, always a favorite.

While writing this, I got a text from brother Jack, who is in Arizona with his first wife at this time, watching Sage pitch against a California team at the Cincinnati Reds training field in Phoenix. Sage, as you may all recall, is Maryssa’s boyfriend who is going to play for the North Carolina Tarheels after he graduates from high school next year. He’s a talent to watch. Click his name to check him out – Sage Diehm. A little more research revealed that Sage is the first Idaho baseball player ever recruited by North Carolina. Last text I got from Jack indicated that one of Sage’s teammates had hit a triple, driving in one run so it was 1-0. Nothing since so I have no idea what’s going on now. The suspense is killing me, but I’m not going to beg for an update. Nope. Just not going to do it.

I’m going to have to go rent a large piece of equipment from Don’s Rental so I can move some dirt around a little, leveling the area next to garage in preparation of installing a load of gravel that doesn’t squish up when a car drives over it. That’s wheat we have right now is squishy rocks. They are all round, which was intentional, to allow for good drainage into the pipe I installed some time back. Now I want to park something on it, like one of the old motor homes, or my truck, and need non-squishy gravel so it will remain level. To get the equipment home means I must spend a bit of time trouble shooting my truck to find out which ignition wire I dislodged the last time I drove it so I can get it started. I’ve already cleared this event as one that isn’t technically “working outside” since I’ll be inside the truck, so I’m good to go. Just need to work up a little more motivation. Might even see about getting the old ’73 RV fired up. Or not.

You may have heard about the crime spree going on around town these last few months. Thieves are going around during the day, knocking on doors so see who’s home. Those who aren’t get robbed. Those who are home are asked questions about someone they are looking for, wondering if they are inside. Last I heard, about 60 homes had been robbed. Sadly, the spree has extended to our quiet little dead-end street. Since we have Panzee, a large barking dog who greets family, friends, and strangers with the same intimidating welcome, I doubt seriously if anyone would be motivated to break into the house in our absence. But, you just never know. To be on the safe side, we decided it would probably be a good idea to lock all the doors, to everything, when we leave. In the past we’ve failed to do that many times.

So, any of you who may be compelled to visit our house when we’re aware be forewarned that Panzee, Breezie, and Ozzie have been training as a team to take down anyone they don’t know. It will work like this … you enter the house, via any access, and Panzee will make a concerted effort to rip your testicles off while Breezie takes care of your eyelids. Oz will gnarl his way around your ankles, severing your Achilles tendon, allowing it to snap up into the calf of your leg accompanied by an incredible amount of mind-numbing pain, ensuring you cannot flee the scene. In the unlikely event you are of the female persuasion, Panzee will go for your neck and face. If you have large breasts, you may want to wear a really tight sports bra because they’ll probably get in her way. Breezie’s and Oz’s missions do not change. I do not feel there’s a need to post this information outside the house because the dogs will make their presence known at the first hint of a foreign presence.

In the event you are still compelled to pay us a visit, please ensure you have the name of your next of kin somewhere on your body. Since the back of your shoulders probably will remain undisturbed, it would be a great place to tattoo that information. Alternatively, if you are opposed to tattoos, please have your partner in crime use a permanent black marker to help you write this information on the inside band of your underwear. If you don’t wear underwear, the waistband of your pants will suffice.

Better yet, just ensure you have proper ID on entry.

Good luck.

Now I must quit for today and go outside, by request, and climb to the top of a 24′ extension ladder to replace one of our outside security lights.

Parades, Relatives, & Injuries

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We watched an episode of “Black Box” the other day to see if it’s something we’d find interesting while all the shows we REALLY like are on hiatus for the summer. We decided it wasn’t a show we would watch with regularity, but one of us came away with new-found knowledge that made them believe I was, and always have been, a Confabulator.  That is me, of course, a person who practices Confabulation. I can hardly deny the label since I readily share that not much I say, or write, can honestly be viewed in a serious manner. Also, I kinda like the way the word rolls of my tongue … it’s just one of those words that’s fun to say.

Here’s a question for you … when relatives come to visit are they considered “company”? I ask because whenever we have company it’s necessary for us to clean parts of the house they will probably never see, but you just never know. With relatives, however, they can show up any time so there might not be time to clean. Then, there are relatives who make it known that they will be arriving on a specific date which casts them in to the role of company. It’s very confusing and I think there should be some sort of rule about how much effort people should put into making company comfortable. Complicating this issue is when seniority seeps into the equation. Should lower ranking relatives receive the same kind of attention as high-ranking ones? Something to ponder …

A couple of days ago it was raining so I wasn’t allowed to work outdoors. Instead, I went downstairs to reacquaint myself with various aspects of my shop area. It’s been neglected for a while … well, since I dismantled half my work bench … and needed some attention. I also needed to look things over to see if I remembered where some of my favorite, though rarely used, tools currently reside. It’s a known fact that tools move around all by themselves when ignored for a certain amount of time.

It took me a while to get started because, as is my nature, I couldn’t help but just stand in the middle of everything, looking around, trying to devise a plan that made sense. I do this all the time and it only bothers me a little bit. After a few minutes of staring at “stuff”, I give up and just start moving things around in a Zen kind of way, seeking satisfaction in locating things from one place to another until it just feels right. My ultimate goal was to get the floor clear so I could clean it up a little. Most of it was just sawdust and tiny bits of wood, one of which had retained a nail that used to attach it to another piece of wood. By the time I discovered that last piece, most of the floor was clean so I was able to call a temporary halt to the proceedings after pulling it out of the bottom of my left shoe. Even though I was wearing my comfy foam-soled shoes for safety, the nail penetrated all the way through into that crease where the ball of my foot turns into my big toe. It hurt a lot and caused me to immediately halt the downward pressure of my left foot, an act that would normally cause me to tumble. Oddly, this time I retained my vertical stance and was able to extract the offending nail with relative ease while standing on one leg. I know. You find that hard to believe. Me on one leg. But, I did it.

Then I limped upstairs to find a source of brighter light so I could assess the injury. Diane caught me before I got to a chair and said, in a manner that might make one feel as though they do stuff like that all the time, “what did you do now?”

I said, “I stepped on a nail.”

She said, “do you need a tetanus shot?”

I said, “no” because I think they last for about 10 years and I know, for sure, I’ve had about 5 of them in the last 10. I should be free of the fear of tetanus for the rest of my life.

“OK, she said,” lets see it. I removed my shoe and searched my new white sock fo signs of blood, but it was clean. Taking the sock off, I searched the area of penetration but couldn’t see anything that could possibly cause the amount of pain I felt on first contact.

“Squeeze it,” she said, so I did. After a bit of time, a tiny drop of blood was produced. It was hardly worth the effort. Still, it was necessary to install a small band aid to ensure I didn’t get blood on any of the numerous rugs scattered about the house. At this very moment, even though it’s been a few days, it’s very uncomfortable. It feels like part of my sock is wrinkled up under my toes, even when I’m barefoot.

After getting my bandage, I went back to work, relocating things from the floor to the top of my unfinished work bench in an effort to create some space on the floor so I could move around without shuffling my feet. Once that was done, I went to work relocating some large boards that were leaning against the front of my table saw. To do this required that I bend at the waist a bit, just enough to move my forehead into a nicely cut 45 bevel on a piece of the old mahogany baseboard laying on top of my table saw. Since I’ve had lots of experience with injuries of this type, I knew it hurt enough that I should apply immediate pressure to ensure I didn’t get blood in my eyes. Thankfully, Diane was in the room next to me, so I didn’t have to go seek a mirror to asses the extent of the damage. I just went to her and, as soon as she completed her customary eye roll, removed my hand and asked it if was bleeding. It was, but not as badly as I feared. There was blood, but from more of a scrape instead of a cut. It didn’t even need a band aid, but it got a bit of antibiotic salve which stings, by the way, when it melts and runs into your eye. Blood doesn’t sting at all.

Today I participated in the Scappoose Summerfest parade in, of all places, Scappoose. I was one of 10 flag bearers who led the parade directly behind the first police vehicle on the mile long parade route. I wore my American Legion hat, but could have just as easily worn my VFW hat because the flag bearers were a combination of both groups. I waited my turn and took the last flag available, which turned out to be the Navy flag. I found that interesting. Leading the parade were the American Flag, the POW Flag, and the Oregon State Flag. Behind them we remaining seven toted, from left to right, the VFW Flag, Coast Guard, Air Force, Army, Marine, Navy, and American Legion Flags. One of the younger guys with really long legs kept a verbal cadence going, but some of the shorter vets had a hard time stepping out as far as he did. Consequently, some of us got out of step once in a while. We made it to the end, however, and deemed it to be a good day’s work. It was fun being up front like that, and seeing the respect displayed to us and to the flags. Directly behind us flag bearers was a trailer full of local vets being pulled by Junior’s nice red Bronco, top down, even though it rained a bit.

On the way home I got a call from our friend Tom and learned that all is well in Hillsboro. That’s always good news. He said Linda is spending an inordinate amount of time on her feet because she’s so busy cutting hair so I might have to think twice about adding to her burden by choosing her as my new barber. Mine left town. The last haircut I had was at Camp Pendleton a few months ago. Diane thinks it’s time for another one.

Now I must stop and help search for the lost “suck it” bag. That’s the one you can put a duvet in and suck all the air out with a vacuum cleaner to make it take up less space. Neither of us have any idea where that bag went, however.

Plus, not having a clear definition of what status lower ranking visiting relatives have, in the way of special treatment, we have to stick to the current norm and put clean sheets on all the beds, paint a room or two, and power wash all the sidewalks. That must all be done today, if it’s going to get done, because they are arriving tomorrow.

Later …

So, You Lost an Email …

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I usually don’t go down bunny holes concerning government inadequacies, but I can’t let this one go. It concerns the IRS and lost emails.

I saw a news item that key people at the IRS inexplicably experienced computer crashes that foiled attempts to recover emails concerning Tea Party targeting.

Really?

I find it incredibly interesting that a government computer can crash and cause the loss of emails. Admittedly, I’m making assumptions, but they are based on personal experience as an IT employee for a fairly large company where computer crashes were  common, though infrequent, events. When it happened it was a simple matter of replacing the hard drive, or the computer, to get the employee back in action.

True, personal files on crashed systems get lost, but corporate documents were safely captured on company servers. None of that data, or email messages, went missing.

So, knowing this, and seeing what the IRS is saying about computer crashes and lost emails, I can only presume that the IRS doesn’t follow common corporate procedures, or common practice, for protecting their data. They either work on a system that doesn’t use servers, have departments that work in silos allowing their managers to determine how data is protected, or “someone” is simply lying.

 I wonder which one it is. There’s a possibility, of course, that I’ve missed something and the IRS has expanded on more modern methods for data protection that were revealed when ENRON folded up and crashed in 2001.

Yeah … that’s probably it.

Eastbound & Down

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Today we began a new adventure, on our way to Nampa, Idaho to surprise Jim & Donna. We are traveling with Jack & Wynette, in the Buick, so it’s a lively trip, so far. I’m writing this a day ahead of time because I can’t publish this until we revive Donna after the surprise tomorrow afternoon. We’re just going to show up with suitcases, unannounced. Steffani said it was OK, and I believe everything she tells me. She’s trustworthy. I know that’s true because she told me.

Packing started last night and went on into the night, after I went to bed. Everything I needed would fit in the glovebox so it didn’t take me long. Just a few pair of underwear and another pair of socks and I was good to go. Diane made me pack a suitcase anyway. I found a pile of clean T-shirts and a pair of jeans to toss in there to make her happy. I also got my underwear out of the glovebox and put them in the suitcase. Made her happy.

We four are together on this trip because Jack & Wynette had a visit to make in Eastern Oregon, near Vale, to visit an ailing friend so we thought a joint trip to Nampa wasn’t out of the question. So, we’re doing it.

We left our house shortly before 1000 with the intention of arriving to pick J & W up at 1000, the appointed time, agreed on days before. Leading up to this point in time was the following text conversation between Jack & me:

Jack – We are set for a ten o’clock take off. Now, is the ten o’clock when you leave your place, show up at our place, or leave our place?

Me – Diane said we’ll be at your house by 10 so be ready by 10:30 so we can leave by 11.

Jack – Wynette said we will see you at noon.

Then he added, “see you at ten, Jack says.”

Me – OK

Me – Make it 1015

Jack – This morning?

Me – Hopefully.

Jack – No problem. I’ll get Wynette up.

We actually arrived before 1015, so we were right on time and almost left their house by 1015.

First stop was Fred Meyer in Scappoose to fill the tank. Since it was only half empty, Jack opted to pay since it would be cheaper than the next one. That was fine with us. It’s just fun to be traveling together.

Next stop was in Hermiston, somewhere between 2 & 3 for a late lunch. I used SIRI to find places to eat, Jack picked one, and we headed that direction. Before getting there, however, a Shari’s was sited and became the new destination.

We parked, entered the facility, noticing that it wasn’t overly busy, but it was the middle of the afternoon, so probably normal. Brenda took our order and disappeared for over half and hour before Jack went to ask if we should change our order to a dinner choice instead of lunch since it was taking so long. At that point the cooks began fixing our order. Apparently we arrived right at shift change and our order got lost in the shuffle. Still, ya know? Not good customer service. I think the four of us comprised about 20% of the customers, and probably the only ones waiting for food.

The food, once delivered, was very good. Jack and I had chicken fried steak, loaded hash browns (no sour cream for me), two eggs, and two pancakes (for me), fruit for Jack. Wynette had a quiche, and Diane had a bacon cheese omelette.

Full of food, we continued the journey, our destination being the Wild Horse Casino just east of Pendleton. Neither Diane nor I had been there previously, so it was something new for us.

Upon arrival, I went to the desk with Jack to check in, but they couldn’t find a reservation for today, the 5th. They did have one, however, for the 25th. Kim, the clerk, did some investigating and determined that there wouldn’t be a problem getting rooms. To get a discount, however, required a AAA card, or something military. I happened to have both so loaned Jack the AAA card (his was in the Buick), and my VA card for me. It worked out.

We’re now in the room, at 5:21 p.m. I think Jack’s taking a nap, but I’m not sure. I just sent a text asking if he is asleep. It’s too early to go to bed and it’s quite nice outside.

Around 7:30 p.m. we went down to the casino area looking for something to eat, but nothing appealed so we jumped into the Buick and headed back to Pendleton to find sustenance. Using the highway “food” signs revealed a Shari’s, which we voted against, then we wound up in the middle of town at the last Kentucky Fried Chicken joint in Oregon. It was right at 8:00 when we walked in and we learned the place was closed, but they would sell us items from what was already cooked. Luckily, they had just what we wanted so it was bagged up, and we headed back to the hotel.

A topic of discussion while determining what to have for a dinner snack was a associated with Wynette’s missing coat. Jack was sure she left it at Shari’s in Hermiston. It was a source of contention for a bit, then the discussion turned to ‘things that get left in motels and hotels.’ I mentioned that Diane’s lost a few nighties by leaving them on the back of bathroom doors, the part you don’t see when the door is open, after taking her morning shower. Jack said he is in a relationship with someone who loses bras in a similar manner. I was kind of warned to not share that information, but I figured it was OK since I didn’t mention any names. That seems fair and it’s really too cool to not share. I understand because I’ve lost underwear that way.

That remembers the time Jim made a solo trip to Oregon to visit but forgot to bring underwear with him.

Basketball Playoffs

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So, now that Stanford lost, taking the Pac-12 our of the playoffs, which lady team are cheering for?

Me? I’m for UCONN. I kinda was when they played Stanford, but couldn’t admit it then.

Now for the men … since both teams were low seeds, I’m happy for both of them. I loved it when Kentucky took out whoever it was they played against, but, for family reasons, I’m compelled to give my allegiance to UCONN. Truth is, I’m just a UCONN fan.

Since Diane and I are here in Las Vegas, I need to know which teams to bet on. Give me some hints so we can go home debt free.

Las Vegas

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Today’s schedule called for us to leave for Las Vegas at 0900 and we made it right on time, at 1000. Around noonish, we decided it might be a good time to eat something so I asked my iPad to find us an IHOP. She did, and we checked in to a really busy one in Perris, California. We had to wait for about 15-20 minutes, and pretty much every seat was full, all the time, so we were confident the food would be hot, and good. We weren’t disappointed. The silverware they delivered was even still warm from the dishwasher. We were definitely a minority in the facility, but that didn’t matter. Everyone was extremely friendly and made us reaffirm our desire to learn Spanish. Or Mexican. One of those.

After lunch we joined a plethora of vehicles and re-established our position on I-215 North. It was all going well then it all fell apart when I saw a huge bill board advising everyone to re-elect Sheriff Stan Sniff. It made my mind whirl with possibilities of other interesting names in public offices. Unfortunately I can’t remember any of them right now, but you have to admit it’s an interesting name for a sheriff. Kinda makes you wonder what his wife’s name is and what they named their kids. How about Scratch Ann? That’s not nice, I know, but how can your head not go that direction? I’m over it, now, and if I ever meet Mr. Sniff, I’ll apologize. Honest, I will. He won’t know why, but I’ll do it anyway.

In Riverside the temperature soared to 80 degrees, then went up a couple more in San Bernardino. Then we started climbing, gently, to over 4000 feet. The speed limit concerned Diane most of the way because there wasn’t a lot of guidance provided by the highway department. We encountered a number of warnings that the speed limit was dropping to 60, then 55, but getting back up to 70 was kind of left up to the individual drivers. Then, 20 miles down the road there might be a sign approving the speed everyone had been driving all that time. More like 75, even though there was a very large police presence on both sides of the freeway.

About 60 miles from our destination, we encountered the only, got that?, the only rest area open on the trip. There were others, of course, but every one of them was closed. Feeling blessed, we stopped, along with an abnormal number of Oriental folks, all of whom seemed to be smoking, because Diane was getting tired and her bladder was apparently full.

Diane was tired because the cross winds for most of the trip were not subtle, sometimes jerking us quite severely. It was reasonable that I take over driving responsibilities, although I’m not normally assigned that task.

Problems started just as soon as I put the Buick in ‘R’. There were 4-5 Oriental people standing behind the car talking, and taking photos of something. I waited, patiently, revving the engine, even whistling out the window at one point, but they wouldn’t move. Finally, Diane got out and made them aware of my desire to run over them, and they dispersed. Apparently, they were feeding birds.

Finally they moved, and I carefully made my way from the parking spot, and on to the freeway entrance. Diane told me she had been cruising at 74 most of the time, so I should set my sights on that speed. I did, and blended right in quite nicely. Shortly after doing that, we noticed the southbound lanes slowing down and it wasn’t long before all 3 lanes were cruising along at bruising 13 mph. We know it was 13 mph because Diane looked at Waze, who knows all that stuff. This continued for almost 20 miles. It was pretty amazing. We had to have passed thousands and thousands of cars. Let’s see, cars are about 18′ long and in this instance were about 3′ apart, so call it 21′. Now, 5280 divided by 21, times 3 for the lanes, and times 20 for the distance covered is 15085.7142857142858 cars. Considering that some of the vehicles were semi trucks, I figure I can round that up to an even 15,085 vehicles we passed during that time. That’s a lot of vehicles.

Finally, we hit the end and I could let it go. There was a point in time where my Oregon upbringing almost caused me to get off the freeway and get in line on the southbound side. Logic intervened, however, and kept me heading North, to LV. Diane isn’t aware of that brief impulse and I’m pretty sure it would have upset her a great deal had I acted on it.

We arrived at our destination, 121 Karen Avenue, Las Vegas. I got us checked in and everything moved to the room, while Diane parked the Buick. When she got to the rooms, we made supper. She baked both the potatoes we had and I made salad. Additionally, I heated up the one remaining chicken breast and ate it with my salad.

After eating, I went back to the Buick to get some things we missed on the first effort, and I stopped by the concierge to order up tickets for The Jersey Boys at the Paris. It’s the first show Diane thought she would like to see, so I got them. It is, incidentally, our anniversary trip.

Now I won’t have to buy a card.

Here in Vegas, by the way, it’s a stunning 57 degrees. Tomorrow it’s supposed to be 70.

Go UCONN, Women and Men.

Port Hueneme to Oceanside

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Today’s another banner day for me with regard to blog entries … this is #580 and I still haven’t run out of words. Go figure ..

The day started with a mostly calm journey down Highway 101, and ended the same on I-5 at the southern extreme of our intended journey. The middle, through the heart of Los Angeles was just as we remembered … about 20-85 minutes of dodging daring drivers driving very expensive cars. We noted that about 1 in 10 of the cars passing us were new. The obvious explanation is that they each had recently wrecked the last one they had and were out breaking in the new one.

Initially, as we neared Los Angeles, the amount of north-bound traffic seemed pretty normal for seven lanes of new cars. The number quickly increased making it quite evident they were all rushing to escape the city before the next earthquake hits.

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Then, about the middle of the LA proper,  the southbound lanes become the escape route and the real excitement begins.

The frenzy continues, and builds, as more and more new vehicles join the quest to seek safety, from severe seismic sensations, to the south. During the fray, most of the vehicles ricochet off one exit or another until only a few of us remain. We continue southward, to solace, in Oceanside … the number one liberty town for pretty much the entire Marine Corps. We don’t mind, however, because we’re well protected from invasion of any sort.

We arrived at our destination at 1430, or so, meaning we made the trip in 3.5 hours with only one stop. That was for donuts because Diane was hungry. I mean, really hungry.

So, before leaving the Port Hueneme area, we stopped at a small donut shop in Oxnard that I spied. They had awesome looking donuts, but they also had apple fritters which I happen to know Diane loves. They also had some good-looking cinnamon rolls. So, I bought one each, and away we went.

These pastries were not minor pieces. They were huge, so we had to wear our car bibs to keep from making pastry stains on our clothing. We washed them down with the semi-good coffee I purchased at the exchange before leaving the Navy base. This minor form of sustenance sustained us all the way to our destination which means we didn’t have to stop.

Once off the freeway, we made our way to 121 S. Pacific Ave in Oceanside. It’s an ocean front resort, right on the water, almost. Actually, separating the resort from the water is a very narrow road, a boardwalk, made out of cement, a fence and a wide area of sand. But, it’s still Oceanside, right?

Still, it’s nice. We got a parking place, opened all the doors, and loaded everything that fell on the ground onto a cart and took it to our room.

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I’ll go back down tomorrow and get the rest of it. Shouldn’t take more than two trips.

We have a corner unit on the north end of the third floor of the Easternmost building of this two building complex. We have a really nice deck that has a terrific view of the wall of the Westernmost building, and it looks down on a very large patio area that forms the roof of the parking area between the two buildings. However, in our little corner, we have two windows that provide a pretty nice view of pretty much everything that’s going on.

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… and at sunset
DSC_9381After the trip we simply enjoyed just sitting around doing nothing. Actually, we like sitting around doing nothing pretty much anywhere we go. That will change tomorrow. Diane already has a Costco trip planned, and I’m pretty sure she’s scoped out locations for all the thrift stores in the area. If not yet, I know she will. Diane was enjoying sitting around doing nothing that she recruited me to make dinner, which I did. We had tuna salad sandwiches. They were really good.

Tomorrow, we will try to connect with our friends, the other California Mike and Kathie, who are only about 40 miles away. After driving over 1000 miles, 40 miles is nothing, really. Besides, Diane will be driving.

Now I’ll share a couple of photos from Hearst Castle, then quit …

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