Quantum Stuff, Cedric, ACE, and Little League

Posted on August 24, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

I was going to rant today, but forgot what I was going to rant about.

Oh, ya … it’s about our illustrious Senators and Congressmen who vote on some pretty important bills without reading what they are all about. One was Obamacare, and most recently it’s about amnesty. The bills have different names, but it’s still all about politics vs. the people. My opinion, of course. Many of our elected officials are absolutely wonderful. It’s just too bad they are out numbered by all those other folks.

Diane fed me chicken again for dinner. It was awesome.

I have two things to address today – one is about quantum theory. I know, we’ve talked about this at length in the past, but we still haven’t come to an agreement on what we should believe or not believe. Maybe we really do live in the matrix and everything we perceive as reality is simply created in our minds. We do not, as I’m sure you already know, use all of our brain so I postulate that the part of our brain we don’t appear to use is the part that creates our reality about all the nifty things we do in life.

This topic popped up yesterday for me when I was looking for a new book to read. I just finished my last Harlequin Romance novel and decided to broaden my range a little. So, on iBooks, I just searched for “quantum”. Do you have any idea how many books there are with ‘quantum’ in the title? It’s amazing! Some of them are reasonably priced at $2.99, or less, but some authors are charging up to $200.00 for their blessed books that are, I suspect, full of their theories. I’m pretty sure those high-priced books are text books written by the author, and required for his class. Old versions are unacceptable for new students because he revises it every year with a new theory, or two, or simply to correct the spelling of a few words. If new students don’t get the new book, they don’t pass the course. Nifty business.

Well, I have theories, too. I have theories about lots of stuff. Just ask Diane. I’ve shared some of them with some of you, too. Sadly, I don’t remember them until I’m involved in conversation, say, about napkins. It’s my theory that with a bit of adjustment to our digestive tract, and use of proper material, if we had napkins made of that material, and swallowed it after every meal, we would not need toilet paper because the napkin would be the last thing out, cleaning things up as it exits. Just a theory. Might not even need to modify the digestive tract at all. Maybe a good linen will work. I’m still waiting for ‘that’ first person to give this a shot and let me know how it works out. Or, ‘if’ it works out by itself or requires surgery.

Regarding quantum ‘anything’ … I’m thinking about quantum Haiku based on the popular 5-7-5 syllabic symbolical construction devised by someone in Japan in another dimension. How it got here, we still don’t know. But, it’s here, and here’s what it looks like.

I’m not, you’re not, we are one : some say that we don’t exist : well, son of a gun

It doesn’t have to make any sense as long as the syllables run 5-7-5. I suppose it would be more interesting if it made sense, told a little story, but that would add another degree of difficulty that I’m not always willing to accept. For you, however, I’ll do it. Here it goes …

Blogs are fun, you know

You can blog your head right off

And ignore comments

Suggesting you stop

Blogging about some dumb stuff

No one cares about

That’s just off the top … funny how things work out when you write haiku. Maybe I’m doing it wrong.

As you know, Cedric stayed with us last night. He’s really difficult to have around because he’s almost as big as me and I can’t boss him around any more like I used to. He’s on to all my lies, too, and just feeds them back to me. I only had one suggestion for him – to take a course in school that might help him increase the speed of his speech. Right now he’s on the borderline between fast and really fast. With a little practice he’ll be able to talk so fast I won’t understand a thing he says. As it is, I only miss about every fifth word so I’m able to grasp his meaning. Kinda. He left around eleventy this morning with Daniel. They went to Oaks Park for the afternoon. Every once ina while INTEL rents the entire park and just turns employees loose in there. What fun. They also have been known to rent out an entire theater, in Forest Grove, for the employees to watch movie premiers. I got to go to one of those, once.

I installed the new water pump in the RV today but it caused me, and Jack, a great deal of consternation trying to decide how in the heck we were going to get it connected. Somewhere, in the land of water pumps, a decision was apparently made to change the size of all fittings to ensure those installed in older RVs WILL NOT fit new pumps. That was the problem. One alternative, I suppose, is to just replace “all” the pipes in the RV but that’s a lot of work.

The input side was simple. It could be fixed with the purchase of a hose increaser niblet allowing me to fit the smaller hose, that’s already in the RV, to the larger niblet required on the pump. The output side, to the faucets, and toilet, was an entirely different matter. I had a six-inch piece of tubing, flared to seal inside the attached female 1/2″ fittings on either end. One side goes to the RV plumbing, the other to the pump. Though it was a 1/2″ female fitting, and the pump output was 1/2″, they just did not fit together. That when Jack gave me a lesson on the different types of threads used – there are pipe threads, plastic threads, PVC threads, and other kinds of threads. It didn’t matter that they are the same size, they just don’t always fit together.

I stood staring, literally, at bags and bins of PEX, Shark, and some undisclosed type fittings, for one and a half hours trying to figure out what combination might work. Thankfully, Jack was working at ACE today and came to my rescue, more than once. He would stop every once in a while to help a real customer saying to me, “I’ll be right back, Sir.” Yes, he actually called me “Sir”. It was kinda nice. He was respectful, too, an unexpected treat.

He always returned, and finally helped me solve the dilemma with two brass fittings that fit together, and into the female side of my supply line, providing a niblet on the end to which I could attach a hose. The pump had replaceable fittings allowing me to use niblets for in and out supply lines so we were good to go.

One and a half hours! Diane was about to start calling around to find me because I had been gone for so long. She said I set a record for “Length of stay at ACE,” which made me kind of proud. It’s not often that I set records. I got popcorn, too. The up side of all that is that I stayed the course, not buying something I ‘thought’ might work, buying it, going home, finding out it didn’t work, then going back to ACE to do it again. There have been some days that I’ve made up to seven trips to ACE to accomplish a simple task. Today I did it in one. A really long one.

What an ordeal.

While I was working on the pump, with the correct parts, I had the RV TV fired up on and watched the LLWS for a while. It was California vs. Connecticut in the regionals. California won something like 12-1. It was quite a game. Now California will play Japan for the title tomorrow. LLWS means Little League World Series, in case you’re interested. These kids are 12 years old, but it’s hard to tell they way they play. They’re pretty good, and fun to watch.

Maybe tomorrow will be more interesting. Right this moment it’s just a mystery to me because I have no idea what we’re going to do. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Fires, Trees, Pope Francis, and Food

Posted on August 23, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

The skies all over Oregon are filled with the smoke of numerous forest fires burning around the state. It’s sad to see all those trees burn but, you know what? There is more standing forest now than there was when Lewis & Clark visited the area. The cause, lightening, is still a common cause, but the reason we have more now is because we have brave people, with excellent equipment, willing to go out and fight the fires. Back in L&C’s days, they just burned until they went out on their own.

Speaking of all those trees – Why aren’t more of them logged and milled in the USA? Maybe they really are, and we just don’t know it. What I see in our neck of the woods, on both sides of the Columbia River, are HUGE water front collecting facilities for logs that are loaded on cargo ships which are destined for the other side of the Pacific. Some rumors I’ve heard (conspiracy?) is the many of these logs are transported to huge ships, outside our 12 mile limit, that make cheap plywood and return it to the US for sale. I don’t think that’s true, but it’s an interesting concept. They really do, however, get carted out of the country by the boat load. Literally.

When writing this stuff, I have begun to research what my fingers report, and continually find myself going down ‘conspiracy theory’ paths. Some are quite involved, and interesting. Fun reading.

For the record, if anyone who reads this works for the government, I don’t believe any of that conspiracy theory stuff. Not me. No sir. I think the government is full of honorable people who have my personal well-being very high on their list of priorities … right below their pay raises, private medical plans, raiding social security, screwing up the medical world, figuring new ways to get taxes from us for which there is no need except to line their pockets. All of these yahoos should take a page from Pope Francis’ book on how to conduct yourself when in a position of power. He’s really something and kinda makes me think it’s OK to be Catholic.

Actually, it is OK to be Catholic … or anything you wish to be along religious lines.

Although we are far away from the current forest fires in Oregon, our sunsets are much more dramatic because of the smoke. We can smell the fires burning, too.

OK – I cheated because I don’t have a current picture of a smoke affected sunset. This one is a sunrise. I like it because you can see the crescent moon over Mt. Hood. And, it’s not even a summer sunrise – it’s from November 2010. Still, it’s pretty, even though it’s a little ‘ho hum’ by Oregon standards … yawn … (take that, Jewel).

Just as I sat down to do this, about 3 hours ago, the smoke alarm went off so I knew supper was ready and had to stop. We had tri tip steak. Very good. I like it because I don’t have to gnaw meat off the bone. We also had beets and smashed potatoes. I regret not taking a picture for you, but here are some previous meals you may have missed …

Diane just told me it’s midnight and time to stop. Last time I looked it was only 10 pm. Guess I’m not a real clock-watcher anymore, like I used to be …

G’nite.

401k’s, My Water Pump, and God

Posted on August 15, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

I’ve delayed adding this entry because the number, 401, invokes some really sad memories of my previous employment. You see, the power company I worked for was purchased by ENRON and convinced a large number of employees that their stock was impervious to decline. Indeed, it rose rapidly, and stayed high for a long time. Being one of the gullible group, I cast my fortunes with them right up until they made it impossible to withdraw before the stock dropped to $0. Nice. So, my 401k disappeared, after 15 years of participation, in the virtual blink of an eye.

There’s my sad story for today.

Now on to fun stuff …

I worked on the RV today because last night I discovered the water pump leaked. It leaked a lot. This morning I removed it and ripped it apart to see what makes it tick. It was evident someone before me had a problem with it because, in addition to screws, it was held together with silicon gasket material. It was this that became compromised allowing water to squirt all over under the sink. Sadly, I won’t be able to replace parts in it because they don’t make this kind any more. I’ll have to buy a new one. I may let it dry out and see about making it water tight, once again, but don’t have any high hopes of that happening. It would be far easier to just replace it but, then, it’s been a while since I’ve had my fingers stuck together with silicone sealant. Might be kinda nice, for a change.

There’s good news – the ’79 RV still runs, and the transmission works! I know because I drove it to Warren and parked it at the church as agreed. It drives just great even though it hasn’t been driven for about a year. I start it once in a while, just for fun, so I know the engine is good. Might be a good idea to change the oil, though. You think?

Now it’s time to lounge for the evening. I have nothing significant to say except I’ve been working on my version of religious history. I think I’m on chapter seven. I’m doing it with the firm belief that God has a sense of humor. He must because I have not been hit by lightning, yet. There is, however, always tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll be labeled a blasphemer, at the minimum, and that’s OK because I know it’s not true.

I’m just having fun at God’s expense. Since he knows me so well, I don’t think he minds.

Unsupervised With Yard Tools

Posted on July 30, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

I trimmed the hedge out front today. It’s an odd kind of hedge, made up of 8 rhododendrons. It was just getting out of hand, growing so tall no one could look in our bedroom windows. So, it had to go, at least in part.

I used the battery-powered hedge trimmer that I rediscovered a couple of days ago, and it worked just fine. I even used the battery-powered chain saw that came with it to whack off a couple of big branches that I decided were no longer necessary.

Now the truth – I rally did trim to top and sides, but my goal was to carve a path to the water spigot on the house, and the nearby down spout from the front gutter. We have a hose connected to the spigot year round because it’s just too inconvenient to disconnect with all the branches in the way. Now there’s no excuse to leave the hose out when it freezes, but I’ll do it, anyway. It seems to weather the storms just fine.

The downspout, however, was another matter. It was constructed of 2″ PVC piping which is OK, but not normal, and it had a major flaw in that the gutter was connected to the drain pipe via two 90 degree elbows which restricts water flow immensely at the far end, where there should be another down spout, but there isn’t. One 2″ down spout to drain one entire side of the house, with two 90’s doesn’t make for a very efficient water removal tool.

I’ve been looking at that downspout for a few years now, and today decided it was time to rectify the situation. The first part was, of course, removing all the pokey branches from the hedge so I could get to it. Consequently, the front yard is a mess, full of what Diane would readily call “all that crap you cut down.” I admit, it’s unsightly, and I will remove it, possibly before she gets home. She’s working at Community Meals today, a volunteer effort which she attends to monthly. It’s a program sponsored by most of the churches in St. Helens that provides free dinners to anyone willing to show up on any Tuesday or Thursday. It’s a good thing and I love her more for doing it. I help when she calls me, but I’m only allowed to scrape plates and vacuum the floor.

Anyway, after making a path through the hedge, I moved my ladder to the corner so I could remove the downspout. I’d already made the necessary trip to ACE for the parts I needed, and was rewarded with a chance to see Brother Jack. We had a nice talk. It’s always good to see him.

Back home, I used my non-electric hack saw to construct a replacement downspout using two 45 degree elbows instead of the offending 90’s. It just made more sense to me. I only glued part of it together so I can make changes without a saw after I see how it handles the next rain, whenever that will be.

It’s been a while since we’ve had any moisture here. The one we were supposed to get turned in to Tropical Storm Flossie which went to Hawaii instead. Don’t blame it. I’d go to Hawaii instead, too. It’s really nice over there. We lived there for the last three years of the 1980’s.

Gutter … I got the hose fired up and ran it in the gutter for a while to see what would happen. Like, would all the water run to the other end of the gutter, and just stay there, or would it actually drain? I suppose I could have used my level to see which direction it leaned, but that would have been too easy. Besides, I didn’t think about that until just now. So, it’s a moot point, because the water actually ran the correct direction and emptied the gutter quite nicely. I’m a proud little downspout builder, by golly.

Now I must drive my lawnmower to the front yard, pulling my little trailer, and fill it “with all that crap” I cut down. It’s going to take a little while but I still have a couple of hours before Diane gets home. If it looks like I won’t make it, I’ll get my shop vac out there and put it on ‘blow’ instead of ‘suck’ and shove all the small debris back under the hedge. That actually won’t do any good because the hedge is just sticks for about the first 3 feet from the ground.

Maybe I should just cut it down. That would solve some problems, and create more, no doubt. But, I am unsupervised which means I can do whatever I want as long as I’m willing to accept proper punishment for those things that I do which are forbidden, even though I don’t necessarily know what they might be. It’s like the law, you know. Ignorance is no defense when you break it.

I better get busy.

Banished !

Posted on July 29, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

The Bachelorette is on so I’ve been sequestered in my room. I’m not allowed to watch it because apparently I ask too many questions and make rude comments that are not acceptable. So, here I sit, typing away, while Zero Hour plays behind me. It’s on the DVR, but I let it run through the commercials anyway so I can add to this. Also, some of the commercials are as entertaining as the shows they sponsor. Some are even better. Zero Hour is one of the three shows I’m allowed to record. I don’t remember what the other two are, so they must not be very memorable.

Since I cannot discuss The Bachelorette with someone in person, I’ll do it vicariously with all of you. I do this with the full knowledge that I will pay dearly for this transgression because that show is one of my beloved’s favorites. A very close second, perhaps an equal, is The Bachelor, an equally interesting piece of work. Diane gets upset when I mock the shows, but I can’t help myself. I know it’s wrong, and not nice, but ‘things’ just leap out of my mouth without provocation. It’s there and gone before I’m able to get control of myself. Then, it’s just too late and I’m in trouble again.

Seriously – why don’t the two TV shows just get together and let The Bachelor and The Bachelorette go on 25 dates all around the world, and see what happens. Whats the worst that could happen if ABC picks your mate? True, doing that would eliminate all the drama, and back stabbing that goes on, but it would simplify things a great deal, don’t you think?

In my humble opinion, both shows are designed to promote promiscuity in a positive light. Seriously, now. One girl going on test dates with 25 willing guys? Or one guy doing the same with an equal number of willing women? C’mon! When that happens in real life the man is tagged as a no good Lothario, and the girls are tagged as loose and wanton. Of course there is no video evidence that romantic aspects of their dates go beyond heavy petting, but the cameras aren’t around all the time, are they?

All of this is sanctioned, by a great deal of society that objects to all the sex promoted on TV, during prime time.

Really?

Still, I admit it’s interesting to see where they get sent, all in the name of searching for Love. TV seems like a poor venue for finding true love as the world watches.

OK – my mini-rant is over. I didn’t mean any of that stuff. What I said is all lies. I made it up.

Personally, I’m perfectly happy that I was able to find my true love the old fashion way using a lot of time and patience. More than you can cram into one season of a TV show. I literally waited years for Diane to figure out I was ‘the one’. It was either that, or she just got tired of living in Oregon, wanted to see the world, and I was her ticket out. I don’t believe that, of course. I was just persistent and waited.

Now I’ll quit.

Truly, if I was even a little bit semi-smart, I’d just erase this and call it good.

But, I’m not, so I won’t, so there.

My Eyeballs

Posted on July 29, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

First, the cherry pie last night was wonderful. I was allowed to dip the ice cream which made it even better. The pie was still warm from the 2-hour cool down period so we timed it just perfectly.

So, I went to the VA again this morning. Not as early as last time, and I didn’t go alone. As most of you already know, I’m not allowed to drive long distances from the house because Diane isn’t sure I’ll find my way back. As a result, I’ve learned to be a good passenger. A really good one. I think I’m past the phase where I thought it was OK to say stuff, like “if I was following that close, you’d be yelling at me.” Or, “if I was driving, I would have turned back there. It’s shorter.” Or, “you cut that corner awful close back there.” I’ve learned that saying things like that create more situations for someone to be mean to you.

Just saying’ …

The VA optometry department uses young students to do all the hard work figuring out if your eyeballs are properly aligned, configured, and up to date. Then they go get a real doctor to check the results and he does it again. All of the students are female Asian people, as far as I can tell. That isn’t a racial issue, just an observation. Whenever I am attended by anyone at the VA, for anything, I always ask them if they love their job. Most of the time I’m greeted with an excited “yes”, but today it was more of a non-comment. She was serious about her tasks, and suspect she did them well, but I could tell they weren’t tasks she was thrilled to be doing. Being prudent, like I am, I didn’t press the issue. She was, after all, fiddling around with my eyes and I don’t have spares. So, I just sat back and obeyed her every command.

The first thing she did, once I was seated in her exam chair, was have me read the bottom lines of her eye charts which were behind me, but reflected on a mirror on a far wall in front of me. Tricky. The letters should have been backwards, but they weren’t. I could read them just fine. After that was done she searched around on her desk until she found the absolutely brightest light she had which she began shining into one eye, then the other. I think she had already put some drops into my eye, but can’t remember. At that point, I was consumed with the light. I have to admit that the residual image it left was a pretty green circle that turned blue when I blinked. Very festive. The lights took about half an hour, then she put the dilating drops into my eyes and sent me to the waiting room to let them work for a while. I waited patiently, playing Sudoku on my iPad, and looking for a new book. I just finished James Rollins “Bloodline”. A fun read because lots of stuff blows up.

When she called me back to the chair, my eyes must have been mostly black because they were sucking in all the light they could find. I’m sure I could see in the dark about then. Very little light was required. So, what does she do? She breaks out and even brighter light and went through all the tests again – look up, look down, look left, look right, look right and down, look left and up, look right and up, look left and down. Just like that, over and over. At one point she changed it up on me and held her hand in front of her chest and commanded me to look there. I did, but I gotta tell ya, there’s not a lot to see when they’re wearing lab coats.

Finally, it was done and she went to get the real doctor who, as I already related, did the tests again, but in a more brief fashion. I think he was just spot checking the student. That’s OK. They need to be spot checked. While he looked, he relayed information to the student who typed it into my record, kind of like a dentist does only she had pictures of eyeballs, not teeth. Then he gave me the good news that my eyes looked healthy and there isn’t any evidence of a diabetic problem which means I can increase my candy intake right away. He also told me that the retina in my left eye has some wrinkles in it that will go away if I make more of an effort to keep my eyes wide open at all times, when not sleeping. That’s a lie, of course. Wrinkles happen. I’ve got wrinkles all over, so why not on my retina? Actually, I already knew this from the last visit. It’s no worse, it’s just not something that’s going to go away. Also, I don’t need new glasses because my prescription hasn’t changed. Exciting stuff.

I was finally released after about 1.5 hours and called Diane to come and get me. Before the appointment she dumped me out front and rushed off to the closest Goodwill store seeking ‘things’ she didn’t know she needed. It’s actually good exercise for her because she walks all over the store the entire time, hanging on to her cart into which she tosses random items which she will re-evaluate before hitting the checkout stand. She just grabs stuff before anyone else can get it on the off-chance it might be something useful. Normally it is. And, she has a good time.

She said she’d be around in 10 minutes so I waited a few, then took my dilated eyes outside into the bright sunshine. Just as soon as I went out the front door I figured my eyes were dilated to about 8 cm because my water broke and ran down my face. This happened even though I was wearing a pair of those slip behind your glasses fake sunglasses. It helped, but not enough. Still, I toughed it out and walked up the sidewalk to a point where I knew Diane would see me when she arrived. I knew she would, because I did that one other visit and she drove right past me. Boy. did I give a talking to that I’ll regret forever! It was educational because I was able to visualize my boundaries and talking points more clearly once she was done explaining things to me. Because of that, I knew she would remember, as did I.

Even though my eyes have been certified to be OK, and will last for many years with proper care, I intend to continue practicing braille when possible. I’m going down to DMV tomorrow and see if they can give me a braille version of their manual so I can study for my test next year. If they don’t have one, I’m calling the ACLU, by golly.

The trip home was uneventful. No one tried to run over us. Unusual for Highway 30, but a pleasant change.

Once home we were both very hungry. I was hungry during my test. I knew this because my stomach made various kinds of gurgling noises throughout all the left, right directions. It didn’t ruffle the student at all, but I wonder what she would have done had I farted, as I wanted to do. Repressing my flatulent nature probably contributed to the gurgling. Normally, I don’t repress farts because it is my firm belief if farts are withheld repeatedly, they eventually turn into burps that taste like crap. Thinking about that reminds me of a saying I heard somewhere, that when you’re kissing someone, you’re just sucking on a 30′ tube that’s half full of crap. Kinda takes the romance out of it, doesn’t it?

For lunch Diane and I had custom nachos – I made the bite-sized ones for both of us. They are really good. For dessert we each ate another piece of cherry pie with ice cream. Just when I was settling into a semi-slumber mode, the dogs started barking because Jennie and Jeran showed up for a visit. It’s always good to see them. Actually, Ozzie’s the only one who barks – Panzee kinda talks to those she knows. Unless it’s a cat. Or another dog. Or a deer.

Changing gears, here are some totally unrelated pictures you may enjoy.

Ozzie on guard in the geraniums – he thinks he’s blending in.

My favorite dry cleaners, on the way to Pill Hill (VA Hospital). I’ve mentioned this.

OK – that’s it. Now I need to go out and clean up some more brush from my previous weed whacking efforts.

Toodles.

My Thumb, Ozzie, Home Improvement, & Thanks

Posted on July 21, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

I’ve decided that my thumb must be sprained. One of those kinds of sprains that don’t swell up, or turn a nice blue color, and you have no proof that anything is bent. So, when not wearing my thumb brace, I’m considering adding a couple of band aids so people will know something’s wrong. I don’t think I’ve used up all the cool Spider Man band aids Diane bought me last year. They are quite festive and really highlight an injury.

Ozzie has decided that it’s OK to start playing again. It’s been a long time since he’s chased anything and we’ve been worried. He also doesn’t spend most of his time in his kennel which we thought was his new ‘normal’. I think it’s because he’s lost some weight. He got a little bit porky when I was feeding him an entire pouch of food every morning but I had to quit when his hair stylist told me he was getting fat. He really was. I think he was up to 10 pounds which is about 3-4 pounds too much for him. So, I dropped back to 1/2 a pouch each morning and over the last year he’s trimmed down very slowly and once again has a waist you can see. And he’s playing again.

It’s funny to watch him and I’d post a video, if I knew how. He stands and stares at his chosen toy for a bit, darts at it, nipping, then jumping back as he spins in a circle. He does this over and over until he actually nabs the toy and during the spin launches it like a discus thrower. Funny to watch because when he does this he has no idea where the toy goes so has to go hunting. Sometimes he flings it clear over the couch. It really annoys Panzee to see him having fun again.

This morning we made a trip to Longview, Washington to purchase more components needed to re-plumb ‘the bathroom’. I have a vision in my head about how it’s going to work, and I even drew it on paper. The paper version doesn’t look anything like the one in my head. So, we went to Lowes where I stood in the PEX connector isle visualizing, and checking all the hundreds of choices to see which ones I think will work. I wound up with 30 separate connectors that will be needed to split input and drain lines for one sink into two inputs and drains for two sinks. Amazing. I will, of course, keep all of you, who I know are sitting on the edge of your chairs, apprised of my progress.

Since today was Sunday, and we were in Longview, we ate a Sizzler where we all ate dead chicken. It was very good, like normal. Our plate remover person was Maranda. She was handsomely tipped for her efforts and winning smile. I went online and gave her a very good review.

Every day I’m amazed at the variety of people who visit this blog. I know that my titles have something to do with their curiosity, but having them visit provide an opportunity for me to visit their blogs. It’s all very enlightening for me. I enjoy it very much. To date, people from 34 different countries have looked at some of my entries.

Some more than once.

The majority, of course, are those of you who are bonded to me by blood or long-term friendship. I appreciate your time, too, even if you only check in to see what portion of my body I’ve damaged since my last entry – kinda like going to a car race hoping to see something exciting, but denying that you’re there to see the wrecks. Personally, I’m there for the wrecks, except when I’m working on a pit crew, which I’ve been known to do.

Perhaps you can tell, of you’ve read this far, that I really don’t have much to share, so I’m rambling. If Diane was reading over my shoulder, which she hates to have me do to her, she’d tell me, “Jerrie, just stop. You’re not making any sense.” I hear that a lot.

I will take that advice now, with a sincere thanks to you all.

You make my day.

“The Eye of God”

Posted on July 20, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

One of my favorite authors, James Rollins, writes fiction based on fact. I just finished reading “The Eye of God” and learned that James agrees with me, at least fictionally, that we live in a world of parallel universes. It’s like the parallel aspects are shadows that are ready to take over each time we encounter a situation where a decision necessary. For those of you who know a bit about quantum mechanics, this isn’t news, but we have these decision opportunities all the time. What happens in the universe of the choice I didn’t make. For example, if I choose to turn right at an intersection, what happened to the ‘me’ that turned left? That is, of course, a simple example, but give it a little thought and you will see that your life is filled with countless decisions every day. Usually, my decisions choices involve a “what should I say, write, or do in order to stay out of trouble?” Sadly, in my conscience universe I seem to live in the one where I always make the wrong choice.

Or, do I?

If the experiences I have are the ‘up’ side, the ‘down’ side must be pretty profound.

I am, I believe, living in a world where I at least perceive my actions as being the correct ones. If you laugh at some of the stupid things I say or do, or just give it a half-smile, I’m in the right place.

Thanks for the use of your eyes, and your time.

Old Toilet Paper Rolls, Shower Nozzles, Urinals, and Other Stuff

Posted on July 2, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

I’ve always had a penchant for endowing inanimate objects with sentient emotions and feelings. I don’t know why, I just do.

This morning I discovered that my toilet paper roll was down to the last few sheets. As I was about to throw it away I wondered what it must be like for them, being stuck on a small cardboard tube for months on end, buried beneath layers and layers of siblings who they know will find the light of day long before they do, and who will find release in the sacred bowl of water, to be recycled into nature. Then, as they bask briefly in the light, perhaps they reconsider and decide that maybe the sacred bowl of water isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It’s heard rumors, and little toilet paper screams, as it’s siblings were swept away, never to be seen again. Maybe it’s OK to be tossed in the dry recycle bin and spend what little time they have left basking in the light. Consider this when you reach the end of your roll.

Then there’s the shower head … do you think the water coming out of it is from it’s nose or mouth? Either way, do you think it hurts them if you get the water too hot? Does it get lonely if you don’t use it? When it drips, is it sad and crying, or does it just drip because it’s old?

How about urinals? What do they think about while hanging on tha wall with their mouth wide open just waiting for some guy to come along and, well, you know, relieve himself into the back of it’s throat? What kind of life is that? Probably OK, since that’s their purpose, but do you suppose they gargle in the middle of the night? Maybe that’s what it’s doing when you press the “Please Flush” handle. Maybe it should be “Please Gargle”.

The worst is toilets. I won’t even go there because with the previous thoughts in your head I’m sure you’re imagining all kinds of things right now. I’ll just say that they at least have the capability, with help, to close their mouths once in a while. That’s got to be at least a little bit of relief.

I explained to Diane what this was going to be about and she wasn’t pleased so I’m sure I’ll hear about this.

Today I put the carburetor back on the truck and it started without blowing up so I won’t have to go back to the doctor right away. It’s only bolted down with three bolts for reasons explained yesterday. It may remain that way for the rest of it’s life. After I did that I reattached the gas tank to the old D22 and am taking a break from the 90 degree heat before connecting the gas lines. When that’s done I’ll go get some gas and dump it in the main tank and see what I can do about getting it to start.

Sure hope it doesn’t blow up. If it does I’ll probably have to go back to the doctor anyway. Diane will insist.

How To Disable A Rhododendron

Posted on May 30, 2013 by Jerrie Cate

Today was interesting for a variety of reasons. The one that got my attention most was when Diane determined that it’s been some time since I inflicted injury to a body part, and longer yet since I had an opportunity to bleed significantly. With this new-found knowledge she thought it would be an excellent idea for us to go trim her Mom’s rhododendrons. She said, “Jerrie, were going to go trim Mom’s rhodies before she hires someone else to do it. Get your chain saw and c’mon.” I also got a variety of clippers, one of which was a bit rusty, but it worked.

She felt pretty confident about my improving abilities when she snuck back into the house and caught me replacing a wall socket without turning off the power. I’ve done that a hundreds times, on ships at sea, and in our houses and I’ve hardly ever disrupted power by channeling it through significant parts of my body, which causes VCRs, Radios, CD players, to announce their temporary loss of power by blinking 12:00 … 12:00 … 12:00 over and over until someone can find a smart allecky 12-year-old who know how resolve the issue.

I’m stoppling right here becasue I’ve aleady taken my zolpedim and my ares coordinated well enough to carry on a lotgical ongeragtionl see what I meen?

Sorry about the way I terminated that last night. I lost control of my little fingers … the ones that work anyway. It’s now 0610 and I’ve had the 6 hours of sleep allowed by the dogs. They’ve been fed, I’ve had my meds, and I’ve had my 1st of many glasses of water, my morning banana, and my yogurt. I distinguish my morning banana because I sometimes have an evening banana, too. Last night I had grapes, instead.

We were talking about trimming things with dangerous equipment, I believe. At Diane’s Mom’s house.

Around Jean’s house are about 15 rhododendrons, four of which are close to the house, one by the corner of the street, and the remainder out back by Milton Creek which runs through the town on its journey to the Columbia River. They’ve been growing for 35 years, the last 15 of which they’ve lived under the threat of pending doom because they were blocking windows, and paths, with absolutely no concern for humans.

Having heard about the pending pruning event, they banded together in a pack of self-preservation by directing all their growth upward instead of outward, interlocking their branches until even a small monkey couldn’t navigate them safely.

This is what I faced, as I strung a very long extension cord across a damp yard and, flirting with electrocution, plugged in my chain saw. It worked, and everyone appeared to still have lights so I positioned it near the one furthest from the house.

Diane and I actually began the dismantling process with small, handheld, mechanical pruner, lopper things, much like those used in movies to remove fingers that are sent back to loved ones, or to facilitate the removal of an especially coveted ring. This worked well for a while, allowing us to get to the innards where the brown branches live and thrive. The outside branches are green and tender and easy to remove whereas the brown ones are more like tree limbs to which the green ones cling.

These inner branches are so thick and intertwined that most work must be done by feel as you clear the way to make room for your head so you can see what you are doing. Just as I was making a breakthrough, it happened. I had a group of finger sized branches gathered in my left hand, and started snipping away, willy nilly, confidence building, until I heard this horrible scream! Startled, I glanced around to see what was going on, and then the pain hit.

It was absolutely horrible! The sneaky rhodie had lulled me into a dream state, causing me to push all my training aside, creating a false sense of security which ultimately resulted in my finger nippers actually nipping a left-handed finger.

As soon as I realized that the scream was mine my training came back with such a rush that I was momentarily disoriented. I fell to my knees, then over onto my right side, curled into a little ball of pain. I didn’t know it at the time, drenched in pain as I was, but the area I cut, on my left middle finger, is where all the nerve endings in my entire body resided. It was excruciating. I know this is true because I am not a stranger to pain. I’ve had a lot of it over the years for various reasons, and this one was the absolute worst. Far worse than childbirth, I don’t care what anyone says.

I heard someone calling my name from far away but it wasn’t getting through the wall of pain very well. Eventually the voice got louder and I realized it was Diane. She was telling me to remove my glove so she could check the injury. This caused me to jump to my feet because I knew if I removed my glove this close to the ground I’d bleed out quickly. I then realized my right hand was tightly squeezing my left middle finger, cutting off all circulation, a trick I had learned during two previous incidents with left-handed fingers … squeeze it, and keep it above your heart. Good advice.

Finally heeding Diane’s demands, I released the pressure and waited for blood to start spurting through the new hole in my glove, but nothing happened except the pain increased. This caused me to grab the damaged digit again and prance around the front yard making the inhaled “sssssssss” sound which everyone knows means it really hurts a lot.

Diane caught me on my third pass and said, “Jerrie, you’re embarrassing us. Stop and take the glove off so we can see if you need stitches,” which I’ve been known to need.

So, I did. I took my glove off then spread the wound so she could see how bad it was. With a deriding remark of some kind at the state of my nearly bleeding finger, she marched off toward the house commanding me to follow. Being in no condition to object, I acquiesced, and followed her like a sad little puppy.

In the bathroom the wound began dripping which she searched for the band aids, which she deemed was the only item required to staunch the now free-flowing blood. OK, it was only trickling a bit and she admonished me, telling me to not get blood all over the sink. So I didn’t. To punish me for cutting my finger she put iodine on the wound before attaching the band aid. Oddly, it didn’t hurt at all, or it just didn’t hurt more than the pain that was already employed.

Once the band aid was secure we went back outside to complete our assigned tasks. Now, however, it was personal so I just fired up my electic chainsaw and went to work taking that rhodie down to size, about three feet tall instead of eight.

As I dismantled the first bush, I could feel the others peering around the house at me, talking about what they would do to me if I so much as touch them. But I wasn’t worried because I know bushes don’t have opposing thumbs, something they apparently failed to consider.

The resulting pile of now harmless branches was further dismantled by the three of us so it would fit into Jean’s brown yard debris container which Hudson Garbage picks up every other week. We also filled four rather hefty garbage bags.

We did the same thing to one more rhodie, by the corner of the house, before calling it a day, but the day wasn’t really done. It was six thirty post-mortem for the rhodie, but many fragments of it was stuffed into the back section of Diane’s Buick, destined for our burn pile. I forgot to mention that. Sorry.

After all that, I find it ironic that I was injured by a finger lopper, not the chainsaw. So did Diane and Jean. I believe they were betting each other how far I’d get with the project before having to make the dreaded Emergency Room Trip (ERT). Well, I fooled them, didn’t I?

Finished, we bid our adieus and motored away. I suggested to Diane that she could just park the vehicle in the garage as I could remove the offending rhodie from the rear with no problem.

From the back yard I retrieved my trusty lawn mower from its home on the lower patio, near the hot tub, removed the bagging unit, attached my trailer, and turned it into a lawn tractor.

Getting the rhodie debris out of the vehicle was uneventful, but it took two trips to get it to the lower 40 burn pile. It’s not really a lower 40. It’s more like a lower 1/2. I just call it 40 for fun. Anyway, once the transport was done, the pile was pitifully small. I was disappointed. I needed to do more.

So, I drove the mower to the middle of the yard, engaged the blades, and started making one crop circle by going around in circles until I’d completed the entire area, pulling the trailer the entire time. I went as fast as I could because the threat of rain was ever-present and I didn’t want to get wet.

When I finished I put the mower away and entered Diane’s house via the lower patio. Not far inside that door is her laundry room and, since I was coated with the smell of new-mown grass, I dropped all of my clothes there, as I’ve been instructed to do, over, and over after previous mowing adventures. Doing this poses a bit of a problem if someone has come to visit during the mowing evolution, and might still be upstairs when I transit the area to my shower, but that doesn’t happen often. Most of the time Diane will warn me but once in a while she doesn’t, just for fun. The object, of course, is for me to make the trip to my shower quick enough that I leave as little grass clipping smell in the house as possible since Diane is terribly allergic it.

Once I was a scrubbed up, it was 9 pm or so, and my day was truly done. I could relax. I could lounge on my half of the couch, eating a bowl of grapes which Diane refused to peel.

Then I took my nightie time meds, and you know the rest of the story.

Now it’s Thursday, and my day is already almost half gone because Diane didn’t wake me up from my morning nap until after 9 am. It’s really OK because I deserved the rest since I worked on Diane’s computer until almost midnight trying to figure out how Windows 8 works. It’s very different. Then, Ozzie got me up at 0530 for his pouch food fix.

Diane is off to visit with the Bethany Quilt Ladies (BQL) with her Mom. That leaves me here, all alone, with a need to conjure up a project that will be meaningful, necessary, and one Diane will like. This concerns me because I tend to pick the wrong projects when left to my own devices.

Oh well. I’ll just have another cup of coffee and think about it for a while. If nothing “pops”, I’ll just take another nap with my iPad.

Hope everyone has a great day.

Oh, ya … Diane took a couple of pictures but they are on her phone and I don’t have them yet so I’ll update this when I have access.

Update – Here’s the last branch of the first rhodie to bite the dust. Neither Diane nor her Mom would let me leave it.

Here’s the remains of the dismantled rhodie from the right side of the house. Diane and her Mom are whittling it down to size to fit the bags. Whatever was left over, because they couldn’t cut it, went in the Buick.

You can almost see my crop circle out there.

These are four of the many rhodies in our yard that are going to yield to my efforts. They probably looked really nice when they were a couple feet tall. Now they are just too crowded. I have no idea what the bush is on the right side, but the birds love it because the cat can’t climb it.