Shoe Litter, and Snow Balls

Posted on February 11, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

I just received a comment from a young lady, Miss Lou, who has a very entertaining blog. She also likes shoes. I was going to send her the link for my entry where I gathered up all of the shoes from around the house so I could vacuum, as directed.

Instead, to commemorate this entry, my 550th, I thought I’d just touch on that subject one more time. Besides, I can’t find the entry. It would take too long.

So, here’s the photos I took of that memorable day …

These are my shoes I returned to the bedroom. You might recognize the old brown Nike Airs from yesterday. Though the new shoes are very comfortable, I’ve had these things for so long they just cling to my feet.

And, here’s a week’s worth of Diane’s shoe litter. I took all of these to the bedroom, too, but not in one trip. I thought about stuffing them into her shoe closet to see if she would notice, but a sudden burst of clarity overcame me causing me to simply leave them like this.

Yes, she has a shoe closet. It’s cedar-lined, and accessible quickly from any point in the house in case of a shoe emergency. That’s it, at the end of the hall.

Inside you’ll notice that the top four shelves are pretty neat, then the organization descends into chaos. The reason, I think, is because the top four shelves are for shoes that don’t get worn as often as those on the bottom three shelves, and the floor.

Every once in a while she will dig into the closet to find something appropriate for whatever she’s got on, and toss me a question, like, “have you seen those cute little shoes with the mosaic things on top, that tie in the back? I think they’re brown.”

Though she will deny it, this is code for, “Jerrie, please look around and see if you can find those cute little shoes … and don’t stop until you do.” I promptly get on it because I’m a good married man, and, if I don’t, I’ll likely forget which is not a good idea because that’s like ignoring the code.

Not too long ago I would have simply answered, “No,” and gone about my business. Since learning the code, life is a lot less stressful.

Yesterday, Jennifer and Lydia appeared for a brief visit after which we retired to the snow-covered front yard to conduct a minimal search for the hat Gilligan buried the day before. After discovering that the snow had thawed enough to make outstanding snowballs, the search was called off and the battle was on. Lydia cheated and ran all the way around the house and got into their car in the driveway, but Jennifer stuck it out and took a beating. In retaliation, she buried the pullover that she was bringing to me because her mother didn’t think it was a good idea for me to be running around in the snow in a T-shirt. Had I known she was delivering the pullover to me, I would have delayed my attack. Instead, I paid the price.

Then I went after Lydia in the car. She wasn’t quick enough to lock the door so I was able to flush her out and started lobbing bombs onto her over the car. It wasn’t very successful, but I had her mightily worried for a while.

Oh. Diane went to the doctor today and learned she has bronchitis. She got new meds to ensure she’s healthy enough to fly to Hawaii with me next week. If not, guess I’ll have to leave her home. Hate to do that but, you know, the tickets are paid for.

Winter Olympics and Small Town Snow

Posted on February 8, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

I got in a bit of trouble yesterday because my blog entry was deemed to be pretty scattered with lots of errors. I would gladly allow her to edit them before sending, but she’s never ready to read when I’m ready to send. So, I just send when done and deal with the consequences later. I’m getting really good at that … dealing with the consequences. I’ve tried convincing her to just log in to my draft, correct it, and send it, but she refuses.

It’s been snowing most of the day again today, adding to the 11 inches we got yesterday. It’s only been two days but I can officially report that I’ve enjoyed it enough. It’s really pretty, and all, like a postcard, but I’m tired of drying off the dogs when they come back to the house all soggy. Actually, only Panzee comes back soggy because Ozzie isn’t really a snow person. The first time he went out in it, this time, the snow was already about 6 inches deep and he sunk up to his chin when he walked off the porch steps. He maintained his composure quite nicely, I thought, lifted his leg, though it didn’t accomplish much, and made some yellow snow. Then he turned right around and came back to the porch. He’s been a little leery about going outside since then and needs an escort to the door, to make sure we’re serious about it. Unless there’s something to bark at in the field.

We watched the Olympic Games opening ceremonies today. Just a few brief comments and I’ll leave this one alone. I loved the technology they used to get it all done, but I could have gone a long time without the ballet and the opera. I understand that those things are a huge part of Russian culture, but I just don’t care. Guess I’m a bit insensitive. I remember being in grade school and having to crawl under my desk during drills to avoid being demolished by the evil Russian atomic bombs. Made sense at the time, and it was scary. So, I guess you could say not caring much about Russia is a learned trait from my 1950’s childhood.

As we watched the countries enter the arena and critiqued the uniforms. The only comments I can recall is that one of country’s uniform colors looked like a lawn chair I lost, and that many of them looked like candidates for yard sales in the spring. We agreed that our favorite was Latvia. We liked The Netherlands, too. Both of those countries used earth toned colors which I really like. The USA and Russian teams were very festive, and colorful, but I don’t see them being worn anywhere but the Olympics, this year. That’s just me, of course.

Then there’s Norway with their mind-altering redwhiteandblue zigzag print. Wow!

I just took a break and walked Panzee down to our mailbox to see if we had mail. She’s a good walker because she doesn’t need a leash. When I turned around to go home, she was off and running, not wanting to have anything to do with being out in the snow. Although it’s been snowing for the better part of two days, we still only have about 12 inches. I attribute that to the fact that it’s a bit warmer, the snow is more dense, and it’s all compressing. Kinda like me … the older I get, the shorter I get.

Part of the mail was a box that had “Keep Frozen” printed on it. I thought, perhaps, someone sent us a steak, or something, and that we might be able to eat dinner after all. But, it was only a pair of sneakers Diane bought from Goodwill. They deliver, you know, and they just use whatever box is handy.

Before I quit I’ll add some photos to ease your mind, in case you figured that I forgot how to use my camera, or that I lost it …

First is one of the Doug Fir trees in Diane’s Mom’s back yard next to the River Milton. Actually, it’s Milton Creek, but River Milton sounds more classy.

This is the back of her house. Her heat pump is directly below the ice cycles.

Then there’s Panzee trying to figure out what I meant when I asked her to check how deep the snow was. This is from yesterday.

I must also add that I have power that I didn’t realize I had. Considering the dangerous weather conditions, I decided to cancel church services for tomorrow. Oddly, everyone I called agreed. Even Pastor. I hope this doesn’t go to my head and make me difficult to live with.

Now, I’m done. Hope everyone is safe and warm.

Superbowl XLVIII

Posted on February 3, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

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

Posted on January 27, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

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

Posted on January 24, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

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 …

Here’s Junior teeing off on the third hole …

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 …

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

Posted on January 21, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

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 …When the discharge is complete, my hair falls back in place, kinda, and my glasses turn black again. I’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

Posted on January 19, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

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

Posted on January 18, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

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

Posted on January 13, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

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.

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.

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.

“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

Posted on January 10, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

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.