Me and My Saw, and Other Fun Stuff

Posted on April 15, 2016 by Jerrie Cate

While packing our stuff into our “new” trailer, Diane discovered that the utensil holder thing was too big for the drawer. Therefore, I was commissioned to create dividers with some of the spare wood I have lying around in the basement. To do that required the use of a saw. Even though I had tons of wood of varying size I couldn’t find five pieces of the proper length.

Considering my last encounter with my table saw (1/8″ kerf in my left forefinger that required 6 stitches to close) I’m sure you can imagine my concern about testing my dexterity again.

For this project I chose 1/2″ wood which is handy because most of my fingers are more than 1/2″ thick lessening the possibility of cutting one of them clean off. Also, I only raise the blade enough to clear the piece I’m cutting which makes it even better because there’s only 1/8″ or so sticking above the wood. The worst that could happen if I, say, lost my balance while running a piece through the saw, is I’d get another 1/8″ kerf, 1/8″ deep, and as long necessary to regain my balance and remove my hand from the blade.

About now I suspect those who know me are holding their hand to their mouth, and their eyes are really big, because you’re thinking that I managed to cause myself significant damage. So, I must point out, that the above details only provide possibilities for damage, none of which I endured.

Instead, I managed to cut all the pieces I needed to get the job done, turned my saw off with a well deserved sense of satisfaction, then, for some unknown reason, managed to stick my right forefinger into the blade just before it stopped spinning. Actually, my finger caused it to stop. The result isn’t as magnificent as you might expect. It’s just a tiny little thing, hardly 1/4″ long. And, It’s not deep enough to count as a bona-fide kerf.

Upon noticing the blood attempting to escape the injured digit, I immediately applied pressure with my opposing right thumb which caused me to wonder, to myself, if that’s what opposing thumbs are all about. I mean, if you hurt the inside area of any finger, the associated thumb if perfect for applying pressure. Maybe it’s not about grasping tools at all. It’s a medical issue.

Anyway, I presented myself to Diane, with pressure applied, and the conversation went something like this.

She looked at my hand, then into my eyes and asked, “What did you do this time?”

Feeling properly warned, I responded, “I cut my finger.”

“How bad is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why?”

“I haven’t looked at it yet.”

“Well, let’s look.”

I held my hand over the sink as we both looked at my finger with growing interest, then removed my thumb from the wound.

When nothing profound spurted from the tiny wound, we both leaned closer for a better look, and she said, “do you think it needs stitches?”

Noticing the absence of flowing blood, I said, “no, what do you think?”

I was proud of the way I turned that decision over to her and especially liked her concurrence that it was a fairly insignificant wound. She had removed the supply of bandages from the Bandage Drawer during the early stages of this investigation so had a couple of large ones ready to apply once it was determined no stitches were needed.

The bandage pressure relieved the pain for which I was grateful because it was moving from a 4 to a 5 on the Pain Scale doctors use. Normally small wounds like this are a solid 2-3 but the ones on the end of any digit are always worse. I know this because I’m an expert on finger injuries.

After getting the bandages applied I went back to my task of building the silverware divider. All I had to do was glue it together. I would have nailed it but didn’t know where the small nails were. Since I was using Gorilla Glue I figured nails would be overkill so just applied some and clamped it all together for a few hours. It’s a test, really, to see how long it will last without nails.

The trailer is mostly packed for a short inaugural journey to Hood River. The water tank has been thoroughly disinfected following the instructions Diane gave me, using the exact amount of bleach required to make it nice and clean. I did that yesterday. Continuing to follow the instructions, I drained all the water from the tank, and lines, and refilled it with fresh water which I also drained. Then I filled it again and discovered that bleach, in even very small amounts, burns one’s tongue. So, I drained it and filled it again.

Diane can taste it first this time. I’m done with that.

To finish off our evening we went down the hill to Campbell Park to watch another one of Lydia’s softball games. They played Sandy High School and beat them 8-2. Lydia had a triple to center field, and a couple of singles. She’s been hitting the ball very well lately as have most of the other girls on the team. Over the last three games they’ve beat their opponents a total of 43-6.

While at the game I called my Brother, Jim, to wish him a Happy 79th Birthday. I call him every year to do that, adjusting the age accordingly. Turns out that he, Donna (Jim’s first wife), Steffani (their favorite daughter), and Bob (Steffani’s significant other) we in La Grande watching Maryssa (Steffani & Bob’s favorite daughter) play softball for Eastern Oregon University. I was glad he was with family and enjoying himself. Watching Maryssa play is lots of fun, as is watching Lydia.

During all of our trips to and from the trailer today, Ziva became very concerned about our pending departure. She found it necessary to be within visual range of me at all times for fear that I would ditch her and disappear. The other dogs didn’t care, and the cat never cares. But, they are all going to have company during our absence as Jeran is staying with them. It will be OK. Then, on our next trip, all the dogs will go with us. If the cat cared even a tiny little bit, she could go, too. But she doesn’t.

Now my day is complete and I must nap.

Vacuum Cleaners Suck

Posted on September 26, 2015 by Jerrie Cate

Yes, this short post is about vacuum cleaners but, first, I’m compelled to share that I think vacuum cleaners are misnamed. At least in my head. The reason I think that way is because of my brother, Jack, and me to be staunch practitioners of “Correct Speak”. You know, where there is no need to interpret what’s being said because it’s all in the words, exactly as they are presented. That simply means “Vacuum Cleaners” specifically defines a mechanism that, well, cleans vacuum. I know that doesn’t make any sense which is why practitioners of “Correct Speak” generally take great care to construct sentences that actually mean what they say. Logic dictates that a vacuum is already clean so why do we need to clean it? Therefore, since vacuum cleaners really suck, they should be called “Sucking Machines”.

Now, since that’s out of the way, I can get to the meat of this post and report that Diane is the proud owner of a brand new sucking machine. She’s had many over the course of our marriage but never one that elicited such excitement as this new one. It’s a Shark Rotator Professional. The price point was exactly right because Fred Meyer had it on sale for $260, marked down from, $300, but we got it from a local overstock business for $120. The saleslady gave it glowing reports, supporting Diane’s online search for the best unit.

On the way home we stopped at Diane’s Mom’s (Jean’s) house to share the good news, and to ensure that Mom hadn’t fallen down. She hadn’t so all was good and she was interested to see the new machine.

I brought the unit in, plugged it in, and ran it around the living room a bit to see how it worked and we were all surprised to discover dust and debris flying around in the clear canister that collects that stuff. This is significant because Mom has a fairly new Rainbow that she uses religiously every week – Tuesdays, I believe. Cleaning that often with a Rainbow would make one think there wouldn’t be any debris to suck up, but there was. Diane and I were all amazed. Mom, not so much. Seeing that the new machine was able to pull debris from the living room rug that we thought was cleaning enough to eat off of, Diane went to work and cleaned the entire carpet and was delighted beyond measure to capture all that dirt from Mom’s squeaky clean house.

Once we got it home Diane couldn’t wait to get it plugged in so she could do a run through the house and over all the carpets lying around so Ozzie can navigate without walking on a bare floor. The results were astounding, as expected, putting the old top of the line Kenmore Drag Behind Canister to shame. She said that one will be retired once all the dead spiders in the basement are cleaned up because dead spiders will NOT be allowed in the new machine.

Here what it looks like …

The orange bag contains all the extra attachments that came with it.

Before leaving I must share that I’m also teaching Panzee to drive the RV. Diane has refused to drive it and I need a backup, so Panzee was the obvious choice.

Remind me tomorrow to tell you about how the new window install went. I have photos of that, too.

Birthdays, and Soccer

Posted on July 13, 2015 by Jerrie Cate

Another Sunday has already come and gone with barely a shimmer that didn’t disturb the dust in my brain hardly at all. Nope. Not even a little bit. That’s partly because we were out of town for 4 of those 7 days doing stuff that I’ll probably eventually get around to. I didn’t tell anyone about that trip because I didn’t want anyone coming over to rob me. It wouldn’t have done any good anyway because Jeran was standing guard for us and he had the dogs for back up.

Monday was a celebration day because it was Heather’s birthday. This is the West Coast Heather, not the East Coast one, in case you were wondering, mother of Gilligan, for further clarification. Jeff’s wife. Now you know. We had an impromptu party in their driveway where we played with the kids and Heather opened her gifts. We weren’t allowed to spank her, the normal way of celebrating birthdays, because she’s somewhere in the 30’s now and it would have left marks, then the police would get involved, we’d have to hire a lawyer, I’d go to jail for a couple of weeks and miss our trip out of town, then Jeran wouldn’t have stayed with the dogs, Diane would have filed for divorce which would involve another lawyer, and all of our friends would have stopped talking to us making life just miserable. So, we dropped the spanking part. It wasn’t worth all that hassle.

On Tuesday, July 7th, our first Great Grandson, Draiden Jeffrey was born at 0809. I just found out today and don’t have any particulars other than he has medical issues that will require treatment but they are fixable. I ask that you pray for his recovery. Here he is being held by his oldest sister, Danyell, and his younger sister Juliette. Adorable, right? I must add that his Aunts Gilligan, Baylee, and Jerrie can’t wait to see him. Another not of interest, to some, is that age-wise, the six children listed fall in to line nicely in this manner, from oldest to youngest … Gilligan, Danyell, Baylee, Juliette, Jerrie, and Draiden. Almost like a perfect shuffle. I think.

Wednesday evening we went to Hillsboro to watch Lydia’s Crush team play against the St. Helens High School team. An interesting point it that Lydia is the head Keeper for both teams. This night, however, she was devoted to the Crush which won the night 5-1, or thereabouts. It was a good prelude for the weekend where the Crush participated in the Nike Crossfire tournament in Bellevue, WA. That’s what got us out of town for the weekend.

For us it started around 1330 Thursday afternoon when we loaded our car, picked up extra luggage at Daniel & Jennifer’s and headed north into Microsoft territory. We stayed at the Econo Lodge in Renton, about 30 minutes from the fields, because it was the only reasonable place remaining by the time we decided to go. It worked out OK. Daniel, Cedric and Jennifer stayed there, too, so it was kind of a family thing. Lydia stayed at the hoy faloy Silver Cloud Inn in downtown Bellevue with her team. Nice place. The matches began Friday afternoon.

The venue is a 60 acre park marked off with 24 soccer fields. Quite stunning. All of them were in use at the same time throughout the three days we were there, from 0800 in the morning to 2000 at night. It was a busy place. Apparently it’s a tournament where college scouts flock to view recruiting prospects. Making it more challenging for our girls’ 17U team, they were paired against 19U teams for all three scheduled games. We don’t know why.

Lydia’s first game was Friday afternoon at 1630. She played absolutely great, helping to hold their opponents scoreless during the first half. She made lots of stops, many of which would have made local native Hope Solo very proud. Here’s a sequence of one save that I actually caught with the camera … time elapsed was about 3 seconds …Watching this was kind of like watching a horse race … all the action is in the last few seconds. Amazing. She did stuff like this for the entire first half. In the second half the alternate keeper thought it was her turn in the box so went out and the coach didn’t notice until the other team scored two goals within the first couple of minutes. He then inserted Lydia who kept them at bay with the exception of one well place kick. Her team scored 1 so they lost 3-1. The talk of the day was what would have happened if Lydia had played the second half which was what was supposed to happen. We will never know, of course, but we can speculate. It was a learning experience. This will happen again next November. What fun. I have to add that the older players were pretty intimidating and played as though their coaching involved various ways to cheat, punch, poke, and shove in ways that got past the umpires most of the time. Sad it wasn’t as much as about the sport and ability as it was about getting away with “stuff”.

On a happier note, here’s a pretty fabulous Moon Rise over Mt. Hood you may enjoy … … and here’s a water tank in Renton that was disguised as part of the forest …It’s a crappy photo because I took it through the windshield with my phone as we drove past. Pretty tricky painting.

On another light note, we discovered that our XM radio truncates things at pretty interesting places …On Saturday Diane and I went to see “Minions” while everyone else went to Seattle with the girls. We enjoyed the movie and have been saying “BA-na-na” quite frequently. Cute movie and a good way to while away a hot afternoon.

On Sunday morning, after the final game, we packed up and headed home. The dogs were happy to see us as we were them, proving once again that no matter how much fun you may have away from home, it’s always the best feeling when you get home.

Golf, Soccer, Softball, a Winnebago, & Visitors

Posted on February 24, 2015 by Jerrie Cate

Let’s see … what’s been going on. I golfed with JP on February 17th and discovered that I can semi-consistently hit a pitching wedge 100 yards. I can even hit it in the general direction I think I’m aiming. JP can hit a 5-wood about half as far as I can hit the pitching wedge. That’s not bragging, by any means, because I’ve never, ever beaten JP on the golf course. Until today. I beat him by one stroke and I even got a par on one hole. It was a good day.

The new owner of the old 1973 Winnebago called me on February 18th and was obviously at his wit’s end because he couldn’t get it started. Since he was still in St. Helens, I shelved my baseboard project for a moment, one of the remodels I had to do because of pending visitors, and went to see what I could do. Turns out the fully charged battery his friend gave him wasn’t really charged at all. It was dead as a door nail and it just happened to be the battery for the engine and lights. The other battery had juice and worked the 12V house lights just fine. So, he retrieved the battery that he replaced and we discovered it actually had a 12.5 V charge, enough to kick the engine over. We hooked it up, and it did the job. The engine ran just great. My job was done and he was very grateful. I could tell that by the way he drove away.

After getting that little task complete I went back to the house to participate in the scheduled full on field day to clean house for visitors, previously mentioned, this weekend. They aren’t technically visitors because we’re all related in some way. One of them is the Brother-in-law of one of my Sisters-in-law who is also the father of some sort of niece, Maryssa, who was the focus of the visit. There was a lot of college softball going on over the course of February 20, 21, and 22. In the middle of all those games was a soccer match at which Lydia, the daughter of my oldest son’s brother-in-law and his wife, played goalie, or Keeper as the soccer crowd seems to prefer. I won’t burden you with scores but will admit that I had a great time watching all of the games. It was exciting, even the soccer, which previously held no interest for me because I failed to comprehend the rules and, therefore, found it profoundly confusing. I’m learning, however, and now find it very exciting. Softball is always exciting. Maryssa is a freshman at Eastern Oregon University and was, we later discovered, playing while coping with a case of mononucleosis. How fun do you think that was? Still, she got her first college RBI and we got to see it.

I’d tell you what happened yesterday but I really don’t know because I apparently removed a crucial calendar entry that would have provided that information. Guess it will forever be one of those mysteries.

Now I must quit and contemplate how much it’s going to rain tomorrow. The last 5-6 days have been glorious but we knew it wouldn’t last. Thankfully, I was able to squeeze enough gas out of the array of gas containers I found around the house to allow me to mow the front and back yards. Sadly, I didn’t have enough time to mow the lower 40 so it will grow unimpeded until spring at which time it will no doubt be a foot or two tall and will take a couple of days of slow motion mowing to finish.

Also, Diane bought me peanut brittle for being good. I’m going to go eat some. I’ll leave you with a few photos of the family visit and activities.

This is Bob making friends with Ozzie. He works on that every time he visits and Ozzie displayed evidence that he remembered Bob because he didn’t bite him this time.

Wynette and Donna watching the ball game. It was a beautiful day, but really cold. Like 9 degrees, I think. Looking at this makes me wonder why I didn’t realize that Wynette is so much taller than Donna. I think it evens out a little when they stand up.

At Sunday’s game, the first of two, Lydia thought painting her toes would be a good idea. Like I said, it was around 9 degrees with the wind chill factor and she’s barefooted.

Here’s part of the crew between Sunday’s games: Jennifer, Jeran, Cedric, Maryssa, Lydia, and Steffani.

Here I am playing golf today in one of my best T-shirts. Apparently I’m the only one who knew it was “Dress Up Golf Day” because everyone else looked normal. Also, I wanted to point out how all the skin on my face is dripping down my neck into my shirt like frosting on a cake. It’s much worse when I take my hat off.

Bacon Bits Rock

Posted on October 30, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

Tonight I made the most incredible spaghetti ever.

It was both delicious and exciting.

The delicious part was obtained by adding a large handful of Kirkland Bacon Bits to a normally routine rendition of Ragu Spaghetti sauce. I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time now, but keep forgetting. Then, earlier today, I stripped the meat from the remains of a dead roasted Kirkland chicken, purchased more than a few days ago, shredded part of it, added some mayo and other things, and called it Chicken Salad. I also added Kirkland Bacon Bits to the mix which made it more than perfect. Really. The flavor combination ensured that anything I may have added was pretty much irrelevant. All I confirmed with this discovery, as I’m sure all of you already knew, that if you add enough bacon to anything, even cake, you can’t go wrong.

So, I added more than enough to the Ragu.

The exciting part came when I sat down in my recliner and almost got my tray to my lap before it tipped just enough to allow the bowl, into which I placed my spaghetti and sauce, to keep it from spilling, slid off my tray in slow motion, and landed upside down on my stretched out legs. They were stretched out because I was in the reclining position.

Needless to say, Diane was less than pleased. She kept repeating, “Oh my God, look what you’ve done!” and, “I can’t believe you just did that!”, and “Don’t move!” These instructions were issued by a semi-hysterical lady who had a more detailed view of the damage than I did. All I saw was an empty bowl laying on my spaghetti-stained pajama-clad legs. Intuitively I knew there was a big mess in front of my chair, and a bit on Diane’s favorite carpet.

The dogs were, of course, delighted and had a hard time waiting to help solve the cleanup problem. We all maintained our positions, obeying the “don’t move” order, while Diane went to the kitchen to fetch a plate so she could salvage the remains of my supper. I ate it without a thought as I’ve eaten many other things that I’ve found on the floor.

The dog’s efforts confirmed my wisdom in adding bacon bits to the sauce.

Supervision, Kids, Trucks, & Football

Posted on October 18, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

Yesterday Diane abandoned me, escaping to the wild somewhere southeast of Portland proper, to participate in a women’s retreat with Jennifer and a bunch of other women. To ensure I was adequately supervised in her absence, she and Jennifer arranged for Jeran to spend last night with me to get me through that first night alone. Only one more to go.

It’s good to have Jeran here because we get along extremely well. With no women around, we can leave the toilet seat up all the time, don’t have to close the bathroom door if we don’t want to, and don’t have to change our underwear unless one of us has an accident. Regarding the latter, I’m more prone to that than Jeran is.

Last night for supper Jeran ate two pieces of leftover pizza as well as one chicken wing from a Costco baked chicken purchased Friday afternoon. I only at chicken. I was going to have baked beans with it but they had fuzzy spots amidst the beans so figured it wasn’t a good idea.

We both slept great last night even though we went to bed late. Somehow I got tangled up into watching a Harry Potter marathon and we watched two of the movies back-to-back. Well, I watched the second one, at least. I think the two movies lasted about 7 hours straight which would have rendered me mostly blind had I watched them both.

This morning the dogs allowed me to sleep until about 0715, a new record for 2014, then I lounged peacefully on the sofa until Jeran appeared around 0930. He fixed himself a cereal breakfast and I made coffee. Since Diane isn’t here I can drink the entire pot all by myself. Probably not a good idea, but I could if I wanted. I won’t, though. Instead I’ll drink half and safe the remainder for tomorrow morning. That way I’ll have to use the coffee grinder once. It’s really noisy.

After breakfast, Jeran sat on the sofa to read one of the Harry Potter novels. It’s HUGE! and he’s about halfway through it. Since he was sitting on Diane’s side of the sofa, Ozzie felt that it was OK to join him and snuggled at his feet. This is totally out of character for the little black dog. He even let Jeran pet him without ripping his arm off, his previous form of affection. It’s evident to all who know him that Ozzie has become more socially acceptable over the past couple of weeks since he got his teeth cleaned. We don’t know if the two events are connected but both of them have provided benefits to all of us.

Shortly after Jeran got comfortable with his book, Jeff called to ask what kind of donuts we liked. Raised, glazed, of course, for both Jeran and me. Shortly thereafter, Jeff appeared with Gilligan and Baylee and we had donuts for an after breakfast snack. Lots of times donuts, by themselves, are considered an adequate breakfast, so it was a real treat. We had a good visit, then Jeff had to get the rest of the donuts home before they got hard. It was a good, and tasty, visit.

Now we’re just lounging around. I’m thinking about what I should be doing today, but with no adult supervision I’m finding it difficult to focus on just one project. All I can do is sit in my chair and try to keep my head from twitching as my many unfinished tasks flit around in my brain, each one vying for top billing. Foremost, for sure, is replacement of the fence I ripped down. It’s calling to me, but not loud enough to disturb me. There’s also the chair kit I need to construct, but I don’t have any wood glue. Getting it would require a trip to ACE but I’m still in my jammies and would have to get dressed for that task. There’re others, I know, but I’m not currently inclined to expend the required amount of brain cells necessary to remember them.

o, here I sit, watching Camping World’s Fred’s 250 from the Talladega Superspeedway, and unranked West Virginia beat #4 Baylor at football, with the sound off. I left the sound off so it wouldn’t disturb Jeran’s library experience on the sofa.

I’m watching the Talladega race because it’s a pickup race and I figured it would be a good way to decide what kind of pickup we should get. What I did was check on line to see what the lineup was and learned that Chevy’s outnumber all other entrants by far. Second is Toyota then there’s Ford. Plus, they use a Chevy Silverado as the pace truck. Therefore, it’s a simple decision to chose Chevy as the truck of choice. It was made even easier because we’d already made that decision. It’s a 2015 goal of ours.

Wow! All of that just wore me out. Guess it’s time for a nap.

The News, our House, Ducks, and Ozzie

Posted on September 13, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

Seems like the most newsworthy “stuff” this past week has been about the Pistorius trial, ISIS “bravery”, and the NFL Commissioner’s bad call. I suspect all of those are a handy way for the media to deflect attention from actually newsworthy “things”. Not being an expert of such matters, I’m not in any kind of position to expand on what those “things” are, but surely there’s something else. Well, there is the pregnant Princess who’s having some pretty terrible morning sickness issues, but I bet there thousands of pregnant ladies in the world experiencing the same terrible malady. Just because they aren’t princess’s doesn’t mean they don’t deserve a little bit of the limelight. Right?

Pistorius is guilty of man slaughter, or the South African equivalent. He shot his girlfriend in the safety of his own home, and should go to jail but probably won’t because he’s missing some parts and was an Olympian. Got it. Let’s move on.

ISIS continues to terrorize the world with its unique display of bravery by beheading the third journalist who had the misfortune of getting captured. In retaliation, the news keeps showing drones blowing up the same two pick up trucks over and over and over. That’ll teach them, don’t you think? I know, there’s lot’s going on that even the news facilities don’t know about but you’d think they could be a little bit more creative with their stock war footage. Maybe they could show something from the Gulf War. Who’d know? Just give us a little variety, OK?

I mean, really, why is it so important that everyone know that NFL front office folks are less than honorable at times? So Rice slugged his wife and only got a 2-game suspension and didn’t spend even one minute in jail. That’s right up there with child-beaters who might wind up with a few months in jail and mandatory anger management counseling. I’ll go out on a limb with the NFL, here, and postulate that Rice is totally guilty, not so much for the deed, but for getting caught. He’s not the only one guilty of this offending activity.

The Princess? Enough said about her. I say leave her alone and let her suffer in peace.

Over the past couple of weeks, or so, Diane and I have been busy painting our home. I may have mentioned this previously, but I don’t care. I’m telling you about it again because it’s a task that’s wearing out my tiny little shoulders and arms as i dangle precariously from the top end of a 12 foot extension ladder extended to about 20 feet. It’s exciting and scary at the same time, kinda like sipping hot and sour soup at a rarely patronized Chinese restaurant in an unfamiliar city. Who knows that kind of outcome either of them will produce? Fortunately, I did not place Diane in the precarious position of having to call 911 to deal with the kind of injuries one incurs when testing the force of gravity from 20 feet up. I didn’t spill any paint, either. That’s the real success. Now all that remains to be painted are the garage doors. They are the only red items left.

Last Monday Ozzie had his teeth cleaned. His breath was pretty horrible from the barnacles growing on his teeth so we, and his Primary Care Doctor, felt it was probably a good idea to get rid of them. During the process on dogs, unlike with people, bad teeth are removed as necessary. Ozzie lost three of them because there was hardly anything left of them as most of the roots had been reabsorbed by his little body. We have them in a little tube and plan to add Ziggy’s tooth so it will make a nice necklace for Oz.

He was at the vet’s office pretty much all day and we picked him up shortly after 3 pm. They gave him some morphine for the pain so he was a little wild-eyed for a while and chose to hold up in his kennel for the remainder of the day. We had pain meds and antibiotics for him, but they were in pill form so the only way he was going to get them was to eat something … out of a bowl. There was absolutely no way I was going to hazard my fingers by sticking them in his mouth to administer a pill. Little as he is, with those tiny little teeth, he bites all the way to the bone. Since the teeth were now clean and polished, it would have been easier for him to do that. Consequently, he didn’t get his meds for three days because he wouldn’t eat. Apparently he didn’t want to get his nice clean teeth dirty. We tried, of course, but he chose to just sit in his kennel, except for an occasional trip outside, dwindling away to a mere 5-6 lbs, or so. Through it all he had a cold, wet nose, so figured he was probably OK. Still, I called his PCP and arranged to get liquid versions of his pain meds and antibiotics. He got his first dose last night which was a challenge. This morning he got another dose but I tricked him by not flinching when he showed me his Elvis lip, which he does to warn of imminent attack. Instead, I stuck the little syringe dose thing in his mouth and pressed the plunger. Boy was he surprised. Twice. Now I have to do it again tonight. Hopefully he hasn’t figured out my secret. He actually at food today, too, so we know he’s on the mend.

I only worked outside for a couple of hours this morning then terminated all activity because the temperature soared from an early 53 to 97 or so pretty quickly. I still need to paint some, but it’s hard to do when the paint dries on the roller before there’s time to apply it. Really makes a mess. So, we must wait for a cooler day. It will have to be before Wednesday because it’s supposed to rain that day.

Diane and I watched the Oregon Ducks dominate the Wyoming Cowboys 48-14 earlier. Then she left so I’ve been trapped here in my chair having to watch whatever comes on because she didn’t give me the remote before she departed.

Hope she comes back soon because I’m getting hungry watching all these commercials.

Golf, Baseball, & Thieves

Posted on July 19, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good luck.

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

Safeway Deli Food, Panzee, Insurance, Silverado, Cardio, & Golf

Posted on March 12, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

It’s been four days since I’ve propped myself up at this keyboard and a lot has happened. That doesn’t mean this will be jammed packed with interesting information because the memory problem remains a factor. I do, however, have a calendar into which I’ve recently begun to add events so I can recall. Now all I need to do is figure out the code I used in the shorthand.

Let’s see … Sunday was normal. No change, there. We went to church, brought Mom home for lunch, and watch “stuff” on TV. We did change it up a bit for lunch by getting Chinese food from the Safeway deli on the way home. It’s pretty good stuff. Broccoli Beef, Orange Chicken, Fried Rice, Noodles, and Spring Rolls. Really, really good. That’s all I remember.

On Monday I had a 1000 appointment at Midway Vet for Panzee for some shot updates and an exam. It was all good, although we had to sit and wait until almost 1100 to be seen. That was OK because Panzee was the best looking dog in the place so we were just fine sitting there looking awesome. She’s a sweetheart and very well-mannered. In dog years she’s about 85 which may account for all of that. Doc said he thought she was between 5-7 years old in people years, but she’s really 12-13 and in terrific shape. Now, if she were only bald so she couldn’t shed.

Tuesday I met with Heather, my new insurance agent who runs American Family Insurance here in town. I switched from Allstate who has been our choice for 20-25 years. AmFam beats them hands down so I switched everything to them. It was a good choice. Heather already seems like a family member. Could be because she also insures Jennifer and family, and has been friends with Jeff for years. That, and she’s got the same last name as my barber, though they claim to not know each other.

After working with Heather, I stopped by Emmert Motors to look at Diane’s new pickup. It’s a 2014 Silverado 1500 High Country that was just put on the lot. All the right colors and bells & whistles. Yes, Diane’s been wanting a pickup for a long time but we’ve been fiddling around with these old Winnebagos for too long and have decided it’s time to be more reasonable and divest ourselves of those projects. That also applies to the old 1968 truck, if anyone’s interested. We are parring down in preparation for another leisurely trip around the USA. News at 11 on that.

From the pickup I made my presence known at the Legacy Health Clinic for my 1430 appointment with my new cardiologist. We had a great visit and he learned a lot about what makes me tick. As a result, he’s scheduling me for a stress test in conjunction with an echocardiogram. I get to watch my heart beat during the process which he said is “wicked cool.” I really like him and trust that if he manages to give me a heart attack during this process he can bring me back from the brink. It that does happen, I suspect I will be able to witness the event in living color. Don’t know when that will be, but I’ll be sure to report on it.

Later in the day on Tuesday, my good friend Doug dropped by to talk about some American Legion “stuff”, and to report that Wednesday, today, was going to be the nicest day of the year so we had to go play golf. He, JP, and Lyle were teeing off at 1000. Knowing we wouldn’t be able to finish a round in just two hours I had to beg off because I had a 1200 PT appointment for my shoulder. So, he made a command decision to move tee time back to 0900.

This morning, at 0730, Doug called to say Lyle couldn’t make it at 0900 so I agreed to just join them at 1000 and leave when I had to go for my PT. On the way to the golf course, I stopped by the PT place and inquired about changing my appointment due to conflicting engagements. Crystal and Terry were happy to oblige, so I was good to go.

It was an incredibly beautiful day. Clear, sunny and warm. Just perfect. I started off pretty good and finished the first hole in single digits. That’s a goal I don’t normally achieve. From there I kinda fiddled around, hitting the ball badly like I usually do, then something clicked and I started swinging slower and actually watched the ball throughout my entire swing. It’s amazing what happens when you do that. The ball actually went straight, and I started to look like a real golfer. I kinda felt like one, too. Turns out I was the only one in the group to par a hole, and I bogied 3-4 others. When the count was done Lyle and I tied at 52, JP had 53 and Doug had a 54. Very unusual because I never beat, or tie, those guys. This is for nine holes, by the way. We don’t do 18 like real golfers because it’s just too far. And, for us, low 50’s is good, especially for JP and me because we have 36 handicaps. We’re really that bad. But, we have a great time.

After the game we headed to Fultano’s in Scappoose for lunch. I called Diane to see if she wanted to join us, but she was having a good time pawing through ‘stuff’ at the senior center store in St. Helens and declined. Then I called Jack’s cell, which he didn’t answer, I was sure, because he was working. Then I called his house and got Wynette who confirmed that. So, I asked her out to lunch and she accepted.

Lunch was great and we had a good visit with all the Peal brothers, Jerry, JP, and Doug. Then I took Wynette home and went to work on Jack’s laptop. I was supposed to call him yesterday afternoon, but forgot. He called me while I was getting dressed after seeing the cardiologist and literally caught me with my pants down. I suppose I could have ignored the call, but didn’t, and asked if I could call back, which I didn’t do.

He had a unique problem which baffled me for the entire time I was there. He has a Verizon hot spot for his phone and internet because he’s too far away from any kind of reasonably priced cable installation. It works really well both at home, and on the road. I couldn’t, however, get his computer to connect to it. The little wireless light just wouldn’t turn the correct color, white, indicating connection and internet access. I tried everything I could think of and wasn’t having any luck at all.

Then, around 1630, Diane texted me asking if I’d run off into a ditch or something because I’d been gone for about 7 hours. It was a reasonable question, and I was amazed that so much time had passed by unnoticed as I fought with Jack’s laptop. Then, right as I answered Diane’s text, apologizing for not letting her know what I was doing, Jack’s laptop connected and everything appeared to work just like normal. It makes me wonder, a lot, if only Diane had texted me earlier, if the laptop would have worked then. It was like magic. I walked away without a clue about what made it finally work, except for Diane’s scathing text.

From there I went right to Church for our Lenten Service. Diane made her excellent vegetable soup.

Kathryn showed up with chicken noodle soup, and three guests … her son John, his fiancé Brittany, and her son Dominick. I sat next to John and, obeying my inquisitive nature, inquired about the musical note on his hand asking if he was a musician. “Percussion,” he said to which I replied that “I played the snare drum in my high school band.” Just one drum, not a set like he surely does. This conversation continued to reveal layers of substance. Then I mentioned the Trojan Swamp Monster band that our son Jeff is working with. Turns out John knows Jeff, Logan, and Shene, and visited our old house down by the river at some point in the past. I do not remember meeting him, but apparently we did.

Just one more “Small World” indicator for me. For Jeff, his name is John Wold. Remember?

Now it’s late and I must reattach my heart monitor and retire for the night.

I’ll leave you with an image that just never gets old. This is looking back up the 5th fairway with Mt. St. Helens gleaming bright. Life is good.

TSA & Going Home

Posted on February 25, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

Yesterday was a travel day so there really isn’t much to say. Even so, I bet I can fill a page or two with absolutely nothing worth the time it will take for you to read it. Still, many of you will read on, thinking things will turn around, and it might get interesting, kinda like one of those movies that keep your interest just enough to keep you watching. Then, when the unexpected ending happens you think, “really? I actually sat here and watched that entire thing? Why did I do that?”

There is no answer, of course, because those are all rhetorical questions for which there are no answers.

Let’s talk about TSA for a little bit. I’m just a bit miffed at them for the farewell they gave me at the Kona airport.

When Diane made the travel arrangements, she submitted all the information needed for TSA pre-authorization at security. Leaving Portland it worked like a dream because we didn’t have to disrobe and we didn’t have to unpack anything except my CPAP so they could satisfy themselves it wouldn’t explode. I alerted them about my cardiac event monitor which they let me keep as I went through their scanner. Then we were on our way. Simple.

Leaving Hawaii, however, they apparently have different rules for such things. We both got in the TSA pre auth line and were sent along as expected until I explained I had a CPAP and a cardiac monitor. At that point they sent Diane on through then the agent keyed his radio and said, “Male assist line one.” Two agents, representing both genders appeared and took me aside for the full meal deal with TSA scrutiny – remove the belt, shoes, everything from pockets, and deliver a short narrative of why I part my hair on the left. They took my suitcase, removed all the liquids, in addition to the CPAP, and gave me a full pat down. All because I alerted them to the items I knew they would want to check.

I was a good boy and didn’t question their motives, but I’m sure I had them a bit worried when I began sweating profusely, like I normally do when I strip searched, because they figured having a cardiac monitor meant the likelihood of a heart attack was imminent. I actually considered clasping my hands to my chest to see what would happen but didn’t. When the pat down was in progress, and the patter guy was feeling the monitor wires through my shirt, he asked if that’s what they were and I just about said, “No, I’m actually wired to a bomb.” A moment of clarity prevented me from doing that, however, and the search continued.

When they were done, I was absolutely drenched with sweat and there was nowhere to go to do anything about it. It was going to dry, I knew, but I figured I was going to be pretty odoriferous during the flight. I made my way out to Diane and dropped my things then went to the restroom to at least splash some water in my face. When I returned, Diane said the TSA agent came out and gave her my favorite baseball hat which I had left at the search station. I guess that was nice of the agent, but it didn’t make up for the assault and the search.

Regarding the search … it wasn’t too bad, really, but I was disappointed that he missed a lot of spots that I thought would have been enjoyable had he touched them. He had a female agent with him, however, apparently in training, so he may have been a bit reserved for that reason.

The female agent offered to re-pack everything, but I declined and did it myself. Slowly, so they had to watch.

The bit question regarding all of this is what purpose does the TSA pre-authorization serve, really, if all TSA agents aren’t required to abide by the same rules. I can only presume that all TSA manuals, and modifications to the manuals, are like the Bible in that what the agents read is open to their personal interpretation. Therefore, they are never wrong, right?

Our flight was supposed to board through gate 7. Departure time was 1245 so I kept an eye on it like a hawk when the clock edged toward 1215. We could see the gate, but there was no movement through it, but there was a bunch of it through gate 9 so around 1230 I went to check on it and discovered that gate 9 was the one being used instead of gate 7.

If any of you have flown into, or out of, Kona, you know that this isn’t really a big deal because gates 7 thru 9 exit an area with only enough chairs to hold maybe 50 people, and there really isn’t a lot of traffic. But, being literal like I am, I figured when they said gate 7, that’s actually what they meant.

Discovering that gate 9 was the proper one, we went that direction and wound up being almost the last two on the plane. There were a few behind us, but they had to be hunted down and dragged to the plane so we could take off. No one ever reported where they found them but I suppose that’s really none of our business. Still, it would have been nice to know.

Finally, in our seats, with cool air blowing the aroma of my drying sweat all over the people in my immediate vicinity, the plane was pushed away from the terminal and the flight attendants aligned themselves to give their normal spiel about safety and all that. We had 4 attendants – 3 mail, 1 female. Lucky me was sitting in the aisle seat right where Brad positioned himself to go through the life jacket and oxygen mask demonstration. I felt like reaching out to poke him to see if his abs were as solid as they looked. Knowing Diane would disapprove made me think twice, however, so I kept my poker to myself. He was pretty cute. Using Brad as my example, the other two guys, whose names I never learned, were kind of the low-end of the Bell Curve at the younger and older ends. The younger one, was obviously a surfer dude, I thought, because of his shaggy bleached hair. Upon entering the plane I asked if he brought his surf board. He just grinned and nodded and I went on my way. The older guy was partially bald making me think I could probably be a flight attendant if I put my mind to it. The female attendant appeared to be a 5’2″ compressed version of a very shapely 6′ girl who weighs 165 lbs. The bulk was still there, but just not as attractive as the 6′ version. Kind of like a Rolls Royce that’s been compressed into one of the metal blocks destined for the smelter. OK. Sorry. That’s a bit of an exaggeration because she really wasn’t really unattractive, just apparently enjoying her position at the senior end of her chosen profession.

The flight landed an hour ahead of its scheduled time because we had a really good tale wind. We knew this was going to happen before leaving and I was able to text Jennifer, who was picking us up, so she wouldn’t arrive too late. It was a good trip, and we were both happy it was over.

Once tied up to the walkway, we once again witnessed one of the events that always amaze us as everyone prepares to exit the plane. Virtually everyone brings something aboard that needs to be placed in the overhead bins. If you don’t fly a lot, you may forget about how courteous everyone is during this evolution. It’s very orderly, like after a funeral where each row is allowed to leave before the next one can que up behind them. It’s pretty amazing to watch. No one gets upset, and it works just great. It’s expected. It’s too bad that these same people would push you off the freeway in a heartbeat if you dared to get in their way.

Just sayin.

I was good to see Jennifer and Lydia waiting for us. We went right to the car and headed home. Lydia and I sat in the back and talked about interesting things all the way home. At their house we went in to greet the rest of the family, then took ourselves home. It was raining the entire drive, but we didn’t mind.

The dogs were overjoyed to see us and we had to give them a lot of extra attention. They deserved it. So did the cat.