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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Viagra, Painting The Hall, and The Winnebago

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yogurt, Bananas, My Barber, and 9/11

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now I must eat and watch TV.

Naps, DSL, Lunch, Oil Change, and Church Council

It was an early morning for Jerrie today. The dogs got him up at 0500 demanding food. Had he gone to bed at a reasonable hour last night, that probably wouldn’t have been a problem, but he didn’t, so it was. In response, after feeding the dogs, he slept in his recliner till 0930. That’s a little longer than usual, but still within acceptable standards for someone who no longer works for a living.

Shortly after getting up he had to turn his attention to Roberta’s computer. She called last night seeking assistance because she hasn’t had an internet connection since last Saturday. Part of the problem is that she has a DSL line which, in Jerrie’s opinion, isn’t an acceptable way to connect to the internet. Since Roberta just lives a short distance away, he had time to fill his coffee cup, the really big one with Starbucks written on the side of it, and get semi-blamed for drinking all the coffee. In his defense, it was technically only one cup of coffee and we all know that coffee is not doled out using recipe type measurements for a cup. Using their cups would, in fact, totally screw up pretty much any recipe.

He did the typical resets required to get a DSL modem back in action, but the little DSL light always turned red, not green. So, he called Centurylink and pretended to be Richard, Roberta’s husband, while Roberta sat next to him to make sure he didn’t say anything he wasn’t supposed to. The young man on the technical end listened to the problem, then got his trouble-shooting book and had Jerrie step through all the steps he’d already taken, then deemed that it was time for a technician to visit in order to resurrect the DSL. The phone on the account, incidentally, was working just fine. The help desk person was required to ensure Jerrie understood that the service call was only for outside service, not inside. If he had authorized inside service, and no problem was found, Roberta would be billed $85. Jerrie thinks it’s a scare tactic, and he didn’t think the problem was inside the house anyway. Every time it rains hard here, many people using Centurylink have a problem within a few days. Odd, but true. It was the same way when Jerrie had Centurylink then moved to Comcast even after being told by the CL help person that DSL speeds up to 40 mbs, and fibre optic connections were available near him. After looking further, it was revealed that they had apparently skipped the street he lives on so he was stuck with only 7 mps. It was actually only 5, but it was beyond the point of needing to argue about 2 mps at that point.

A Centurylink tech was scheduled to visit Roberta’s house sometime between 1-6 today. Jerrie finished up at 1044, just one minute before he was supposed to pick up Diane’s Mom, Jean, and take her to the St. Helens Senior Center for lunch. Diane was working there today with other Bethany Lutheran Ladies to serve the meal. She does this once a month and Jerrie always helps her when she asks. He normally scrapes food from the used plates, a task he’s been trained to do since 1968. Today the SHSC had ham slices with scalloped potatoes and green beans. Before the meal, he and Jean were served lime jello into which was mixed cottage cheese. It’s my understanding that neither Jerrie nor Jean were particularly convinced this was a good thing to do. It looked kinda nice, they said, but the combination of textures on the palate were just … wrong.

Jerrie and Jean stayed until Diane and the other ‘girls’, Barb, Jean, and Mary had eaten, and they had a nice visit. Then he took Jean home. The other Jean, one of the Bethany girls, presented Jerrie with a large squash that she had removed from the display of the food distribution area. She must have known that he wasn’t a squash fan so told him he could use it as a club for something. It was hard, and would have probably worked well for that purpose. He said, “you just shouldn’t have to eat something that has innards in any way similar to pumpkins.” He’s right on that count. Before leaving he put the squash back into the display, but appreciated Jean’s gesture.

After dropping Jean, Diane’s Mom, at home, he went back to Emmert Motors and made an appointment to get the oil changed in Diane’s Buick. Turns out they had a 1500 spot available, so he had them pencil him in. By the time he got back home he only had 1.5 hours remaining until the oil change so he got Diane’s permission to skip the outside heat and stay inside until he had to leave. She granted the request so he didn’t have to deliver the Buick in sweaty and greasy clothing.

He delivered the Buick about 10 minutes early, then took a seat in the waiting room and read his e-book. After about 45 minutes he got up to stretch his legs then had a talk with Jeff C., the dealership manager. They had a 2014 loaded Impala out front and Jeff gave Jerrie the key so he could go check it out. It was reported that the Impala is quite nice, and appears to get pretty good gas mileage (21-28), but it was black with black interior. Very classy, he said, but the preferred choice would have been the Buick Lacrosse on the display floor. It’s White Diamond with the champagne leather interior, Diane’s favorite combination. She once had a 1992 Cadillac Seville STS with those colors which set the standards for her choice of colors. Jerrie admits, that was a nice one.

Jerrie’s tooth hole still hurts a bit, and the taste of blood makes him kind of nauseous so he doesn’t think he would be a very good vampire. Probably just as well because with his teeth getting worse, like they are, it won’t be long before biting anyone on the neck will produce any results. Actually, he said doing that hasn’t produced any results for him, ever.

Upon returning from the oil change, and $41 lighter, he returned the Buick to its reserved spot in the family garage. His car, and truck, are relegated to the great outdoors because neither of them are shiny like the Buick. That, and Diane doesn’t like having to go outside in the rain to enter her vehicle which is totally understandable. He was then provided a delicious supper of one Hebrew National hotdog, a small bowl of pork and beans, and a glass of milk. Dessert was a Dream Cicle, one of those orange sherbert and vanilla things on a stick. He really likes those. It felt really good where his tooth used to be.

He was allowed to watch a bit of news before he had to leave to conduct the Church Council meeting, at the church. He does this every month because he’s the council president. Hard to believe, I know, but he is. So, he makes the agenda and conducts the meetings. The council consists of Pam, Barb, Mary, Stephen, Ron, Shannon, Jerrie and Pastor Rory. They actually get business done and have fun during the process.

Here’s what the cat was going when he left the house …

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Yes … sleeping on the Buick.

The meeting ended shortly after 2000 and he returned home, in the dark, to almost end his day. Right now he’s looking over my shoulder, ensuring I get all the details correct.

He wishes you all well and reports that he may be back tomorrow. We’ll see about that because he’s got to work under the ’79 Winnebago tomorrow and it’s supposed to be 95 degrees out there.

Me? I’m staying inside.

My Dentist

It’s 0850 when I open the door to enter the office. There are 4 people already there which isn’t a surprise since the office opens at 0700. One of the staff members was talking with one of the ‘waiters’, and everyone in the place seemed to be joining in, making it a happy place to be. However, as soon as I stepped through the door, all talking stopped. I’m sure they were all talking about me before I got there, and hadn’t expected me to be 10 minutes early, so felt confident they could get there ‘digs’ in before I arrived.

That isn’t true, of course. I’m sure the merriment ceased upon my arrival because they didn’t know me and were a little concerned about how I might react to a waiting room half full of laughing people. So, to defuse the situation, I accused them of all of talking about me and that they could continue with no concern for me. And, they did. I didn’t know any of them, and my delivery was accepted the way I intended, that they needn’t stop just because a new stranger walked into their midst. I’m not shy that way.

I also talk to people in elevators which makes most of them uncomfortable. On a good elevator trip, I’ll be the last one aboard a loaded car. I’ll step in and remain facing the back of the car, making eye contact with anyone willing to look at me, then smile. Sometimes I attempt to get them all to sing “If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands … CLAP CLAP,” or I might simply start humming “It’s A Small World”. There’s generally no response to the former, but the latter creates a light-hearted atmosphere that causes people to thank me for planting that song in their heads for the remainder of the day as they leave the car. Most of the time they all get off at the first stop whether it’s their floor or not.

Things in the waiting room returned to normal and I assumed my waiting position and … waited. My appointment was for 0900. My dentists name is Dr. Grimm. That’s not a joke. It’s really his name. He’s a nice guy and very good at what he does. I like him because he’s not a pretentious person.

I’ve visited this office a number of times, and have been placed in different work stations, so I know he’s not a Lutheran. If he was, I would be assigned the same operatory every time. No moving around. No sir. Just like church. His assistant today was Tyra, a very nice young lady with excellent teeth … a pre-requisite for anyone working in a dental office. In my experience, all dental assistants and chairside people are adorable young ladies. In all the years I’ve been going to the dentist, I’ve known of one male assistant, and he was gay. The gay part isn’t significant, just fact. Could be some of the female assistants are also gay, but it’s not so evident with them, and I don’t particularly care, or mind. They are all adorable. Even the gay guy assistant was adorable.

Tyra taped a large napkin to my chest, and had me sign something that gave them permission to pull a tooth. The choice of which tooth was mine to make, but they had a suggestion. Considering that I was dealing with experts swayed my decision in favor of their choice which made them happy. Dr. Grimm, however, was open for also pulling the other tooth I was sure I didn’t need. Clearer heads prevailed, however, and we settled on the one they chose. It was in sad shape and just had to be put down.

I was reclined back so far I couldn’t relax because my tongue kinda slid back and prevented me from breathing unless I sent it a continuous stream of commands to remain firm, which it did. Then Dr. Grimm took hold of my right cheek and started wiggling it as a diversion then stealthily slid his syringe full of numbing agent into the area, on the outer part of the top right tooth, and slid it slowly, oh so slowly, into my flesh. Because he did it slowly, and was also wiggling my cheek, I didn’t feel a thing.

Then he went away to let things go numb, and I read my iPad for a while. When he returned he reported that he needed to give me shots on the inside of the tooth also, in the roof of my mouth. He needlessly warned me that such shots are normally pretty uncomfortable for most people, but it had to be done or the sound of my shrieking, as he removed the tooth, would bother his other patients. I already knew this, of course, so relaxed as much as I could, and opened wide.

The shot itself isn’t really all that bad. It’s the sensation of him moving the syringe all over the place that concerns me the most because I know he’s moving it around without taking the needle all the way out. He just punched through the crunchy part in the roof of my mouth, causing a considerable level of pain, maybe a 6, squirted some of the contents in, pulled the needle back out a little ways, then moved it to a new angle and pushed it in again. Thankfully, the numbing agent acted quickly so the level 6 was as bad as it got.

Thinking he was going to depart and let the last shots go to work, I was surprised when he rattled some tools and went right to work. Memories of the last tooth I had pulled, many, many, many years ago, caused a brief moment of panic because it wasn’t a pleasant experience. During that operation, after deadening the area, the dentist simply clamped a set of pliers to the offending tooth, and yanked it around until he got it out. There was nothing gentle about it. Dr. Grimm, however, took one of his tools and just started pushing on the tooth, one way, then the other, loosening it very gently. Once he had it wiggling, he got his pliers and gently twisted it until the tendons broke, then pulled it free. When tooth tendons break, by the way, it sounds like the crack of a whip all over inside your head and it kinda makes your eyes open a little wider, to see things more clearly. It’s brief, and he explained it, so I felt no need to panic.

Once it was removed I was asked if I wanted to keep it. Of course I did. I keep all my teeth. Besides, if I didn’t keep it, someone else would give it to the tooth fairy and cheat me out of money I had rightfully earned.

I was retained in the chair for a pre-determined amount of time, to allow the first wad of gauze to absorb the blood seeping out of the new hole that was created in my mouth. Tyra called time, and took the gauze out, and replaced it with another wad. The first one had surprisingly little blood on it because I, being familiar with bleeding injuries, intentional or otherwise, know that pressure on the wound is the key. So, I was biting down hard the entire time. Also, I clot up quickly, which helps.

After paying my bill, $300 and change, I was given a schedule for my next appointment that will cost almost $1000. It’s supposed to be a crown, but I’m thinking that we might just yank that one out, too. It’s a lot cheaper and, let’s face it, I’m OK with soft food. I don’t need all those fancy teeth to eat a banana. I can just chew on stuff until it gets soft then swallow, or, if it’s something that absolutely must be masticated a great deal, I can use the other side of my mouth. Ya, I think I’ll just skip the new crown and go for the extraction.

Now I’m home, resting. I told Diane I was given three days bed rest, but she didn’t believe me. She’s worked for a number of dentists during our travels and knows how it works so it was foolish of me to try to trick her. She did, however, concede that I could have one day off to rest before taking on the projects already started, or new ones making themselves known.

Now I must change my gauze and rest.

1968 Chevy Truck, Electricity, Spaghetti, and Soccer

Today I spent a lot of hours on the old pickup truck. Here’s what it looked like before I started.

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It actually looked the same once I was done, but it’s now turned around, pointing to the right. I don’t remember when I took this picture, but the truck just never changes.

Today, my efforts were focused on just getting the starter to function correctly. Before I got into it too far, I decided to just remove the starter and take it back to NAPA for a test. You see, it functions OK for about 2 seconds, then the Bendix just quits and the starter keeps spinning. If the Bendix gives up, everyone in the entire world knows that means the little gear on the end of it isn’t going to turn the big gear on the engine. All those people also know that if the engine doesn’t rotate, it’s not going to start. As I said, however, the little gear engages the big gear for about 2 seconds before it quits, allowing the starter to spin wildly out of control, consuming massive amounts of energy, until you release the key. So, the Bendix was suspect.

The guy at NAPA, Dave, I think his name was, happily took the starter to the tester, strapped it down with a bungee cord and applied power to it. The Bendix kicked out like it’s supposed to and it remained out the entire time power was supplied, so it was deemed to be working just fine. No amount of whining on my part could convince Dave that his test was a no-load effort. So, I took the starter back to the truck and took a critical look at the wires and noticed that they probably weren’t in the best shape ever. They do, however, conduct electricity and they aren’t shorted to ground. “Shorted,” for those who may not be familiar with this term, means the wires are short enough that the electricity can’t reach the ground. That’s true.

It was a perplexing situation, for sure. I turn the key, the engine would turn for a couple of seconds, then the Bendix would disengage. Not knowing what else to do, I decided to just eliminate as many connections as I could between the starter, the battery. That meant bypassing the ignition, the little switch that makes sure it’s in Park, and the one behind the fuse box that goes through the firewall. It’s a purple wire, and purple wires don’t go through a fuse so it isn’t really connected to the fuse box so it can go directly out through the wall into the engine compartment.

Whether or not you want to know, here’s how I did all of that.

First, I went into the newest of the old RVs we have, and retrieved a push button switch that I previously had installed in it because the ignition switch quit functioning for the part that sent power to the starter. But, the button kept fall off, and getting in the way, so I removed it and now all I have to do to start it is turn the key on and hold two wires together until it fires up. Probably not the best solution, but it works quite well.

Taking the switch to the pickup, I first found a likely hole on the left side of the dash into which the switch would fit. I found the perfect place, but before securing it, I had to make sure it worked like I wanted.

It just occurred to me that I should give everyone a little refresher course on basic electricity, even though everyone in the entire world already knows this stuff, and I probably should have done it sooner. Better late than never, and doing it will help me get it straight in my head.

First Rule – there are two types of electrical current – AC and DC. Both of them require copious amounts of electrons which are the little critters that make you jiggle all over when you happen to touch a bare wire that’s connected to a power source. They literally ‘fly’ through your body and the jiggling you experience is caused by all the cells in your body dodging left and right, trying to get out of their way. Got it? It’s not a good thing to do, touching a bare wire. Exciting, yes, but still not a good thing to do.

AC is Alternating Current – that means the electricity is created by exciting a bunch of electrons with a generator that causes the current to go up and down, up and down, like a yo-yo, until all the electrons in the wires develop a bi-polar disorder and they don’t know which way they’re going. To them, it’s back and forth, back and forth in the wires, going through stoves, air conditioners, washers, dryers, refrigerators, light bulbs, and, once in a while, a warm body.  Behind pretty much every wall in your house there are wires jam-packed with excited electrons that are just waiting for the chance to go somewhere else. The preferred destination of every one of them is ALWAYS the shortest path to ground. Yes, to ground. Like the dirt you dig in when planting flowers that will die unless you water them. Or a garden you plant that the deer just love. That ground. That’s because the ultimate desire of every electron in this ‘circuit’ is to return to its source, as in the other side of the motor that excited them so much. To do this they must use the earth because the power companies chose this manner in order to save money on wire. By stuffing a huge wire into the ground and connecting it to one side of their generator, and just providing one wire from the generator to a house, the house must also be connected to ground, to complete the circuit, allowing the electrons a way to get home, they save an absolute ton of money. Sounds kind of lame, I know, but it works.

DC is Direct Current – that means the electricity flows only in one direction so all the electrons have a sense of purpose, all moving together from the positive side of their source, back to the negative side. You are familiar with this type of power in the form of batteries. The kind the run your cell phone, portable radios, iPods, flash lights, and your vehicles. The complexity of today’s vehicles is mind-boggling compared to what I was dealing with today, but the concept is still the same. The battery sends power, if it’s charged, to the parts that are connected to ground. In the case of a vehicle, however, ‘ground’ is any metal surface on it, especially the engine. In the case of my truck, the negative side of the battery is bolted directly to the engine block. The positive side is bolted directly to the starter. Now reading this, you may think that the starter should be spinning all the time, but it doesn’t. That’s because those who build vehicles use trickery on the electrons to make them stand around for long periods of time before ‘closing’ a circuit, by means of a switch or, perhaps, a key. A key! You turn it clockwise, and things happen. Lights dance around on your dash-board and the  ‘system’, your vehicle’s computer, goes through the same kind of start-up routine your home computer does, but different. If you watch the lights and gauges, they all do the same routine when you turn the key “ON”. Then the system waits. The electrons have been given a glimpse of the excitement to come, and are all crowing up to various switches, waiting to explode down their assigned wires when a circuit is ‘closed’ with the flip of a switch. When you turn the key a little bit further, you engage the starter. Although the starter is connected directly to the positive side of the battery (at least in my truck it’s a direct connect because in 1968 things were simple) the starter doesn’t spin, and the Bendix doesn’t engage, because it’s waiting for you to turn that key a little bit further, allowing electrons to rush to the Bendix which closes contacts that allow all the electrons in the BIG wire on the starter to engage the Bendix and spin the starter motor. When you hear the motor start, you release the key and it magically goes back to the “ON” position.

Now, where was I? Oh, yes! I was eliminating the various connectors between the battery and the small wire to the starter, the one that closes the contacts that allow power to be consumed by the starter motor. What I did was connect one wire from the fuse box, that only has voltage when the key is ON, to one side of my push button switch. I know, I probably told you it went behind the fuse box earlier, and it does, and it’s purple, but the power is connected to it via the ignition switch, not the fuse box. Since I removed the ignition switch from the equation, I needed a new power source, but one that was only available when the key is turned ON. I used a big red wire which is probably illegal in someway, but I did it anyway. I didn’t have a purple one.

From the other side of the push button switch I ran one wire, with no connectors, through the firewall, directly to the little wire connector on the starter. Now all that was between the starter and success was one little switch.

Before doing that, however, I hooked it all up to the starter, which I jammed under the right front tire, to make sure the push button did the trick. Everything sounded like it worked OK, but I couldn’t really see it because once wires were connected to the push button, I bolted it into the nifty hole I found on the left side of the dash. I layed down on the seat and pushed the button with my left foot, but I still couldn’t see the starter, I could only hear it. It sounded just like it did when Dave checked it at NAPA, so I figured everything was good to go. Here’s how I did it …

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Reinstalling the starter is a whole other story so I’ll just skip that part and get right to the meat of this story and tell you that absolutely nothing changed. All that work, and the Bendix still released after only a couple of seconds.

I was all pumped up for a successful ending, and nothing had changed. I even stopped in the middle of all that to eat a spaghetti lunch, that Diane fixed for me, with half a loaf of baguette bread, my favorite. I was READY.

I knew, however, that repeated attempts to start the engine in this manner would ultimately work. The engine does start, but it takes a while.

Tomorrow I think I’ll drive the truck down to NAPA and invite Dave out to start it for me and see what he thinks.

To end the day Diane and I went to the High School to watch the JV soccer team, the one Lydia is on, play against Aloha High School. Aloha won 2-0. Both teams had lots of kicks at the net, but only Aloha’s went in. It’s still a very confusing game, to me, with the referees blowing their whistles in a seemly random manner and making odd gestures with their arms and hands to identify the infraction as if everyone in the crowd knows exactly what’s on his mind. I guess I’m going to have to study this a little more closely. Maybe get some pictures from the internet that shows me what those gestures actually mean.

Now it’s 2222, swear to God, and time for me to go to bed. I’ve got a big day ahead of me tomorrow because I have to make sure the newest old RV starts, then take it down to get gas so we can go to the beach on Thursday.

If it doesn’t start I may have to run some more wires, or get a lawyer.

Oh. This is all the ‘stuff’ I had left over when I was done with NOT accomplishing a single useful thing today …

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Thin Set, Fast Food, Soccer, Cheese, and Quantum Physics

The tiling in The Bathroom is done – Tomorrow we grout! Friday we seal, and Saturday the kids can start using the shower. It’s been a long 3-4 months for them and they’re all getting a little ripe. Personally, I’ll be the happiest camper when it’s all done because this project is consuming me. It makes me sweat profusely … that’s not valid for this task because everything makes me sweat profusely. It’s a gift.

The Bathroom was the only place I did anything constructive today. It was just me and Daniel, slapping tiles on the walls until it just felt “right”. Once the grout is applied most of the screw ups will disappear. They’re supposed to, anyway. We’ll see how that works out tomorrow when we apply that grout.

Before starting our work this morning, I had to go straighten up the Lion’s Club newspaper collection container. It’s huge, and people use it for disposing of all kinds of things. I asked Lydia if she wanted to go with me, since she likes to do all kinds of different things. Her only response was to ask if she went, “would I get her something to eat?” How could I refuse an offer like that?

Inside the container was the normal amount of ‘stuff’, including cardboard, a nicely taped up container of used cat litter, and a remarkable array of cereal containers. None of these items qualify as newspapers so they are pulled out of the mix, and then we stack papers. We build barriers about every two deposit slots, of which there are about 10, or 8, and keep stacking on the barrier, and throwing loose papers behind it, until it’s about nipple high. It was about halfway between belly button and nipple, on me, but Lydia thought it would be fun to get on the pile behind the barrier. I told her she had no idea where those papers had come from, or what had touched them, but that didn’t seem to faze her normally very persnickity health standards. She was going to do it anyway, so I said, “sure.” She made a move to leap over the barrier but stopped shortly after raising her leg about 2 feet off the floor, deciding it wasn’t such a good idea after all. This was caused, of course, by her newly acquired interest in soccer about which she is deadly serious. She’s signed up to play her freshman year at St. Helens High School and has been training pretty much every day all summer long. Her coaches have her running about 4+ miles a day, and weight training, in addition to actually playing soccer once in a while. She’s loving it, but her body is just getting used to the abuse, and it’s a little bit sore in spots. That’s why she’s hungry all the time, too. It’s amazing what she can consume. This morning I got her dead chicken tenders from Burgerville. For all of you non-Northwest folks, Burgerville is a local version of Burger King, but better. Really. It is. But, you know? It’s all just a matter of taste. A hamburger is a hamburger, no matter which way you cut it, but only Burgerville has a Tillamook Cheese Burger. They are the best. Tillamook Cheese is another kinda local product. Wisconsin doesn’t have anything on Oregon with regard to cheese lovers.

OK – that was uncalled for. I apologize to everyone who lives in Wisconsin, is from Wisconsin, or who might happen to be planning a trip to Wisconsin.

For our mandatory lunch, Daniel and I went to the drive thru at Muchas Gracias and each had a breakfast burrito. They are entire meals in a wrapper you can eat. How handy is that? That’s another food chain local to the area, in case you’re wondering. I would have gone thru any of the driver thrus, but Daniel chose Muchas. The drive thru was mandatory because we both smelled like well used mules after slaving away in the hot bathroom all morning.

Considering all of this activity around soccer, I guess I’m going to have to learn the rules for that game after all. I actually thought it would never happen. It’s just odd to me to be so involved in a sport that can end in a 0-0 tie and it’s deemed to be a good day. But, she’s really involved and we will be watching.

I just saw on the news that an 11-year-old boy has been admitted to Texas Christian University, home of the Horned Frogsto study quantum physics. I’m stunned! I thought quantum mechanics was about the essence of, well, of everything. Maybe that’s why this youngster is also taking a course in religion. Hmmm. Wonder if he’s on to something. I might just have to form more theories and maybe he can solve them. Maybe he can solve the theories I already have. I wonder if he will talk with me. I wonder if I can remember all my theories. Dang! I might just have to let this kid run on his own.

Diane spent all most of the day getting her hair cut, and making potato salad for Community Meals at First Lutheran Church in St. Helens. I’ve talked about that before – it’s something they do every Tuesday and Thursday, just for fun, to feed anyone who wants a hot meal. It’s a great program. Diane always helps. I help when she asks me to. I quit volunteering when I joined the Navy, but I do what I’m told.

I think I’ve used up my quota of links for today so I’m going to bed and dream about grouting. That, and it’s time to get Diane away from her computer because she’s laughing out loud at funny animal things she’s finding on her computer.

No, I’ll just leave her alone. I love hearing her laugh.

Quantum Stuff, Cedric, ACE, and Little League

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.

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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

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.

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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 …

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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

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.