Grant County Fair Grounds, Washington

I only have a short time to render a plea for assistance to help us escape from this place. We tried to get away this afternoon, but all we managed to do was get our holding tanks dumped before we were forced back to our designated spot inside the fairground permiter.

Five days ago we began this adventure when we motored to Troutdale and met up with three other vintage Winnebago/Itasca RV’s which range from 1973 to 1990. Ours, as you may recall, is a 1979. The trip began nicely with a mosey across I-84 where Terry led us to a nice secluded location where we ate a scrumptious PB&J lunch. This location had a peek at the windsurfers on the Columbia, but we hesitated to stay long because the wind was blowing so hard we feared for our safety.

After lunch Terry led us on a tortuous journey of about 7 hours to Kennewick, Washington where we holed up in the Elk’s parking lot. The temperature during this grueling drive was around 114 in the shade and we were melting since we do not have dash air in our rig. Once parked, we had a chance to set out in a shaded grassy area for a bit, letting the generator run so the roof A/C could cool down the interior of the RV. In doing this I realized that we could have been running it all day long during the heat of the day while bombing down the highway. While all the others went to the Kennewick Mall, and had dinner, Diane and I walked two blocks to McDonald’s and got chicken sandwiches which were very good. I had bacon on mine. When everyone returned, we visited a bit then retired to our respective vehicles.

The night was OK, and we were up early enough to get a breakfast sandwich and coffee from Mickie D’s, then we were off again for a short trip of about 89 miles to Moses Lake. No one encountered any difficulties and we made it safely, stopping at the first Dollar Tree we saw. Next to it was a DQ which was good for a chocolate malt for me and a caramel something or other for Diane. We parked in the shade, killing time, so we could arrive at the fairgrounds about the same time as Jeff, who was coming from the Seattle area.

As we traversed the last couple of miles through town to the fairgrounds, we found ourselves sandwiched between dozens of really huge Winnebagos, much newer, and far more expensive, than our little group of four. It was pretty intimidating.

Once we made it through security we were directed to our designated spots just inside the gate. As we were parking, Jeff arrived making us a stronger group of five. Still, we were isolated from all the expensive rigs which cost anywhere from $150K – $500K or more so, I believe, we wouldn’t scratch them.

The first day we had our own Mexican pot luck for dinner while the expensive RVers spied on us through their fancy blinds, eating surf & turf supplied from town. They do this because they don’t use their kitchens like we do. Our little group had a wonderful time until it was time for me to get the TV going so Diane could watch Dancing With The Stars, or America’s Got Talent – one of those. It took a while to get the antenna pointed right, and at the right altitude. The final solution was achieved by attaching the antenna to my camera tripod, and attaching that to the ladder on the roof. Tricky. A real redneck setup, but it worked.

We slept well that night. I think it was a Thursday.

Friday, John & Sue showed up with their 1970 unit making us a stronger group of six. We ate the remainder of our Thursday evening potluck for Friday lunch.

It was a hot day, but cooled off nicely when the breeze kicked up to around 87 mph. John was happy because he had a kite to fly and it worked well. Friday night, last night, we were fed more Mexican food, and were entertained by the Winatchee High School Mariachi Band. They, and their teacher, were just awesome. A great group of talented kids. It was a real treat.

Then we slept. Got up, got coffee, ate tacos for lunch, and tacos for dinner. It was brutal. Everywhere you looked it was Mexican food, Mexican food, Mexican food … Somewhere in there our group was forced to serve the food as people passed by with their plates. I was the left line “Meat Guy” … Jeff was the right line “Meat Guy”. We had a lot of fun and provided proper portions, ensuring there was enough for everyone, unlike the “Soup Guys” who ran out about halfway through the line. It was horrible. We thought there would be a terrible mob scene clamoring for their soup, but it didn’t happen. It turns out that by serving old people, those who didn’t get soup apparently weren’t aware that there was soup so it was a non-event.

Yesterday the hoyfaloye Winnebagoers came by to tour our pitiful little rigs and were really interested in how they’ve been fixed up, or not. Most of them used to have rigs like ours but have since moves up to the hugs ones with computers, and TVs. It was interesting to visit with them.

Today it was more of the same for lunch, but for dinner they lured us into the dining hall, conveniently located about 100 feet from where we were forced to park, with a BBQ pulled pork and chicken dinner. It was truly awesome, and we didn’t have to bring our own plates! It was all very delicious.

After dinner we were forced to sit there through various forms of entertainment, raffle drawings, and various give aways, during which our table of six RV’s won four of the door prizes. Getting to the end, the 50-50 drawing, took almost 2 hours. We were dying in there, but had to stick around to see if any of our group won. They didn’t. Finally we were released to go “home”.

After visiting in the cool night air, we retired to our respective units. John & Sue are leaving at 0600,
Jeff at 0800. We don’t know when we’ll be leaving yet because we haven’t received clearance from the organizers.

We plan to make our escape and make it at least to Yakima tomorrow, then head across Highway 12 to I-5. So, if you don’t hear from us for another couple days, send help. We’re probably stopped somewhere along that road where there’s no cell service.

Pray for us …

VA, Psychology, and Mowing The Yard

It’s a little late for me to start this entry, 10:36pm, but I feel obligated to provide something to read for those who make it a routine to check this site every morning, knowing there won’t be anything worth reading, unless they’re simply insterested in seeing just how long a sentence can be and still make sense. Typically, I make an attempt to add natural breaks in my narratives, but occasionally become so involved with the topic that I find it difficult to put an end to whatever it is that I’m “saying”. Complicating that is the fact that I really have no idea what’s going to happen. I have no plan. Things just start appearing on the screen. Sometimes I think, perhaps, I’m the victim of a remote viewer who has the ability to take over my mind and do this “stuff” but that doesn’t really doesn’t make any sense because remote viewers are not supposed to have that ability. They can just look at what’s going on. I think it’s something else. Maybe an alien infestation.

I went to the VA rehab clinic today for the first time and met Katie, my therapist. Diane thinks it’s unfortunate that all she does therapy on is body parts – nothing mental, which is something Diane’s been campaigning for since 1989. She thinks I’m nuts most of the time. Perhaps I am, but I’m really OK with it. I’m comfortable in my head most of the time, and I have this blog for a relief valve to unload all the excess bits I no longer need. It’s kind of like cleaning your garage, but I do it every day. I purge. Sadly, it’s not a purge that results in weight loss. Bits don’t weigh hardly anything at all because they’re really tiny. I guess that’s why I have so many of them to unload. I just wish I could find a reason why I wind up with all those extra ones. Am I depriving some other lost soul of bits because I have so many? Or, do I actually have the right amount of bits and I’m actually rendering myself a little bit less capable by getting rid of some that haven’t yet been designated as active? That would explain why some … most of what I share is meaningless drivel. I should be unloading expired bits, instead. But, to bits expire. Somehow, I think not.

Wow! That’s just getting way over my head, there. Reminds me of a Child Psychology class I took once. Scary stuff, psychology. BF Skinner was a weird guy, but devoted to his chosen line of work. For that I applaud him. I’m sure his daughter does, too.

I mentioned that I met Katie today. Nice young woman. Tall, lean, and could probably fling me to the floor without batting an eye. She was checking my right hip action because it’s being problematic and hurts most of the time. The preliminary diagnosis by my primary care doctor was sciatica. I think that’s something to do with nerves. Anyway, it hurt a lot most of the time, until my PCD prescribed legal drugs for me to take. I take them twice a day for inflamation. Now my body has an alarm clock that goes off every 12 hours because the next pill is due. My goal with therapy is to get rid of the meds because I have happy places in my head I can access when the pain is too bad, and they constipate me. I know, the last thing you need to know before you begin your day is that Jerrie’s constipated. Too bad. He is. Now you know. So there.

Moving on …

Before going to the VA, I mowed the front yard twice. I had to do it twice at different heights so the exhaust tube to the bagger wouldn’t plug up every 15 inches. The grass is tall because it’s been well watered since the last time I was allowed to mow it. Lots and lots of rain. I did the lower yard for the dogs, too, but could easily have mowed the three foot square area they use. Since Ziva went to live with Jeff, Panzee and Ozzie seem to be lost puppies, so to speak, because they have no one to follow into the field. Especially when it’s dark. I have to hold a flashlight for Panzee and walk down to the yard with her. She doesn’t like the old compressor Jack gave me. It scares her. She came out the kitchen door this morning, saw it on the lowere patio and ran all the way around the house to the front door. There was no way she was going to be around if there was a chance it would start up. Ozzie could care less. He just spins in circles and barks.

I’ve been at this for 34 minutes and it’s time to stop. The leg and hip hurt again and I have to get prone. Please feel sorry for me. I have a list of exercises from Katie that I must do multiple times a day. She said I have to walk 30 minutes every day, too, and walking around the house, and up and down stairs doing “stuff” doesn’t count. The walking HAS to be part of an exercise routine. So, let the walking begin. Tomorrow. Well even take the dogs with us.

Buona notte.

Why Did I Turn Down That Road?

I believe all things have meaning. There have been many TV shows, and movies, over the years that speculate on this. Most recently, “Touch” has brought this home to me in great detail. We’re all interconnected in some manner that defies description, that cause us to turn down roads, or streets, that we do not normally travel. The end result of such detours always, in my experience, leads us into a situation where we have an opportunity to help someone. Or not. It’s a simple choice we make every waking day of our lives.

Generally, such events are not overtly evident, they happen in small ways. I could be as simple as stopping at a crosswalk on a busy street to allow someone to cross the street. They may have been waiting for a long time and, perhaps, late getting to an important meeting. By taking the detour, and stopping, you’ve added your signature to the overall scheme of things. You mattered. You had a choice. For that person, you made the right one.

I’m not spouting something new, but simply adding my little spin on how I perceive these life changing events. Diane and I have them all the time, perhaps because we tend to travel the path less travelled. Backroads, and side streets are our preferred method of getting from A to B, no matter where we go. Consequently, we’ve had an opportunity to slow down and see many things that make us undetrstand why we either turned where we did, or why we happened to be in the wrong lane, and had to either get off the road, or take a chance to get back into line.

During our long trip in 2010 several things happened to serve as evidence that things fall into place in a seemingly magical manner. Two come to mind.

One was a stop at a fast food facility to get a couple of breakfast sandwiches before heading down the road. When we received our order it was wrong. It was corrected, but they allowed us to keep the extra meal. As we pulled away from the drivethru, Diane turned down an alley instead of onto the road so we could stop and organize ourselves. Near where we stopped there was a gentleman of lesser means searching trashcans for something to eat. He came away with a paper plate with “something” on it and started walking by the car. Diane and I looked at each other, silently communicating the knowledge that this is why we went this way. She rolled down her window and offered this man the extra meal. He accepted it, then returned his plate to the garbage can. It was solid reinforcement that we’re hear for a reason. Had we not had the extra meal, we would have given him one of ours and gone back for another. Having it, however, simplified the process.

A second detour, caused by construction, forced us off the highway into a small town in Montana. We’d been travelling a while and had a destination planned, but we weren’t ready to stop so it was briefly upsetting when we had to exit. The disappointment was brief because along the exit road was a cemetery that had a section specifically for Veterans that had identical headstones, like Arlington. It was very striking and, after exchanging a knowing look, we stopped to take a walk. It was beautifully maintained, and having a separate section for Veterans made it all the more special to us. That’s no doubt because of our close affiliation with the military for so many years of our lives. We’ve never seen another cemetery like it, before or since. We believe we were taken to that location so we could see that cemetery and witness the honor this community bestowed upon their home town heros.

I have absolutely no doubt that each and every one of you have had similar experiences. Maybe you don’t think anything about why these things happen, and that’s OK. Maybe you do think about it and chalk it off to coincidence. That’s OK, too. Personally, I don’t think it’s coincidence, at all. I think that no matter which road you take, no matter where you are going, you will always encounter an opportunity to give someone a helping hand, to do something good, to make a difference. This makes me think think of an old saying that “it’s not the road you’re on, it’s the journey.”

I’m not special because I think about things like that – we’re all wired a little differently. Some no doubt think I have a few wires crossed. So do I, sometimes. But, I believe I can see just a little bit of the interconnectivity we all have.

If you look, so can you.

Susan Pierce

Greetings – this is just a shameless plug for our niece, Susan. She recently posted a song on YouTube and I’d like to share it with you. She’s studied music for years and trained as an opera singer. This is a gospel classic that we love. Enjoy, and pass it along if you wish.

http://www.facebook.com/l/kAQH5W02KAQGUOYApPbYqJd2NL-QiueyNoV5MAXYuIxLEZg/www.youtube.com/watch?v=ovwjwL9_FsM&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Let me know what you think.

A Hard Day In The Laundry Room

It’s 6:00 pm and I’m tired. I’ve been working all day to clean up the laundry room to prepare it for a fine finish. It’s been the “way it was” since we moved in and Diane’s getting cranky about the way it’s situated and the fact that the doors on her dryer and washer won’t stay open. So, along that line, here’s what I actually accomplished today…

I leveled the washer and dryer so the doors stay open. Oh, and I move the washer next to the dryer, which was pretty easy to do since I ripped out the laundry tub that’s been between them all these years. I’ll be curious to see how stable they are when Diane runs the first load.

I forgot to mention that the day before yesterday I snaked out the floor drain that was filling up and running across the floor. So, it should be good to go. I’m sure all of this is just making all of you giddy with excitement, right? Right.

Looks like PC, the porch cat, decided to go somewhere else to live since we didn’t invite her in permanently. Haven’t seen her in about 4 days. So, we’re sad. We liked having a porch cat and she was friendly. Not your run of the mill feral cat. She’s probably a two-timer and actually already lives at someone else’s house and just came here for her winter vacation. Now that it’s spring, she’s gone home. A snowbird cat. Go figure.

This morning I thought I was going to shift all the plumbing and electrical connections to another wall in the laundry room so we went to ACE to get the necessary parts. First we went to the St. Helens store, which didn’t have enough 5′ sections of PEX tubing, so we went to the Scappoose store which did. Doing that allowed me to do two things – visit with Jack, who was working, and get an education on PEX tubing, from Jack who was honoring his obligation as a … well … a Helpful Hardware Man. Just like in the ACE commercials. He’s got an ACE shirt and everything. I’m very envious.

After learning a lot of stuff about how the various PEX connectors work, I decided that, for now, I just need to get things hooked back up and build the wall before committing to the final move. So, we just bought an Ox Box, and a pair of Carharts suspenders for me. I decided that I’m no longer going to wear belts and Diane doesn’t like the suspenders I normally wear. They’re yellow and look like a really big tape measure. I like them, but I’m not allowed out in public with them on because it makes her skittish. Here’s what they look like …

Nice, huh? Oddly enough, this is what I look like when I’m making up stuff, but I don’t always have the suspenders on. You can’t tell by the picture if I have underwear on or not, but I do. Honest. Diane made sure before we left the house this morning. Also, I have more hair in person. Ask anyone.

There’s really not much else to share for today. I wish I had something clever that I could use to erase the image I have of Tom’s butt with a receipt stuck to it. Makes it hard to sleep.

Day Seventeen – Assault in Nampa

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I feel fortunate to be able to share this day with you. It started out pretty good, then went down hill drastically for a 3 hour period when I assisted Jim and LaVerne with their Meals on Wheels route. That, too, started OK, but I should have been weary when the only sit I was offered was a lawn chair in the back of the van. It was one of those little, tall Ford vans that folks use for utility purposes. The above picture is the view I had for the duration of this ordeal.

Jim made me leave the house with him at 8:02 am to ensure he was on time to begin the noon route at 11:00 am or so. One of the hospitals in the area provides the meals and the transportation, which is a very good thing. On the way over he let me ride in the front seat, and we stopped by Steffani & Bob’s to pick up a beach chair, that was smaller than the one we already had, because he said he thought it would fit better with the warming oven and three large coolers. Turns out there would have been enough room for a nice recliner but, no, I had to sit in a tiny little beach chair. Sideways to our direction of travel.

Before loading, however, I discovered the real reason Jim wanted to be early. He got to run the crimping machine that secures lids to the warm part of the meals. While he did that I stood, calmly, in the hall, introducing myself to everyone who walked by because there was no one to introduce me. I met Hugh, who was the Principal at Rainier High School from 1991-1994. He left because he said the clouds got too low. So, he moved to Montana. Now he’s in Nampa. I also met Ginny, Heidi, and Eda. We had wonderful discussions about Jim and his real value in today’s modern society.

Finally, everything was packed, and we trundled the oven and coolers out to the van. As I stated earlier, I sat sideways in the back of the van surrounded with this equipment and it wasn’t bad for the first hour or so, even though I was forced to fill little baskets with meals as directed by Jim and LaVerne in their comfortable front seats. Since they are both older than me, their need for heat was understandably much higher. I was collateral damage from the heat but didn’t bring it to their attention until I started getting car sick, something I’ve never done before in my life. Fortunately, by then, one of the coolers was empty so I could have used that in a pinch should the need to puke go beyond a mere possibility. I don’t think I mentioned that there were no windows in the back of this van so I had no visual reference for what was going on in the outside world.

I have to admit that once I proffered the possibility of my need to vomit, voluminously, I had their attention and they yielded to my repeated request to please allow some air to circulate in the rear of the vehicle so I wouldn’t have to embarrass anyone. Jim cranked the heater up, but lowered the windows a bit so I could get a sniff of fresh air at least once in a while.

At this time I also rotated my chair 90 degrees to the left so I could look out the front thereby giving me the reference to the living world I needed in order to regain my sense of wellness. Shortly after calming my iffy stomach, we entered an area with many speed bumps. Big ones. Jim was careful on all but the last one when he apparently forgot I was in the back and thought it would be OK to accelerate once the front wheels had cleared the bump. As a result, I was launched vertically from the chair, missing the roof by centimeters, then slammed back down into the chair. This broke six bones in my neck and caused an instant headache. Since the feeling returned to my limbs fairly quickly, I lost a majority vote to continue the MOW route until done instead of returning to the hospital for an MRI. So, I continued doling out meal pieces until done, and by the time we returned to the hospital to turn everything in, no one remembered that I was seriously injured. Not being someone to create a scene, I just dropped it and decided to just heal on my own.

We returned to the house just in time for a wonderful lunch of meatloaf and mashed potatoes. I ate twice. Then, when I was just reclining to take a short nap, and try to recover from my ordeal, I was ordered out of the house so we could take an hour trip to Emmett to watch Maryssa play softball. Everyone was fearful of the cold wind, but the day turned sunny and bright, making the trip the highlight of the day. Maryssa’s team won 12-3, or something like that, but didn’t score the bulk of their runs until the last inning. It was fun to watch.

This is Diane and Donna watching the game. Maryssa hit 3 for 5.

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Immediately after leaving the game, Diane made Jim stop at a McDonald’s so she could use the facility. None of us know what she did in there, but she was smiling when she returned.

Now it’s 9:12 pm and I’m siting at the table in my jammmies thinking that I may survive this day yet. Tomorrow may reveal something different as my injuries have time to show their true colors as I slumber.

I won’t be able to send this until tomorrow because Jim’s too cheap to install a wireless router in his house. For that same reason, I cannot add pictures until just before we stumble upon a wireless site that allows me access.

Tomorrow morning Jim’s forcing me to go to his weekly meeting at Burger King with 38 of his friends. I’m told there’s some sort of initiation that I must endure in order to be allowed access to Burger King when that group is there. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Day Fourteen – Farewell Las Vegas

Greetings – to begin, some of you may have already noticed that this is actually Day Fifteen. I am, however, going to share what actually happened yesterday. I had it all done last night the had a disagreement with my iPad. Apparently it took offense when I attempted to add the wrong photo and it punished me by deleting my efforts. I sat there looking at it for 15 minutes before I “got it”. Everything I had so painstakenly written was gone. Forever. Now I have to make a bunch of stuff up to fill that void.

Yesterday … hmmmm.

The Cate’s awoke refreshed, ready to start another day of serious walking as they used the inefficient Las Vegas monorail system to gain entrance to Bally’s Casino. The goal this day was to visit the Saxe Theater, located deep in the bowls of the Planet Hollywood Casino. Planet Hollywood is directly across Las Vegas Blvd from the Paris Casino, which is physically attached to Bally’s via a 4 mile long tunnel filled with shops and overpriced things to eat and drink. It’s all a trick to wear you down so you succumb and buy something.

After finally finding someone who would talk with them, the Cate’s were directed to the “V Theater”, which had the box office where they could exchange their vouchers for actual tickets with assigned seats. This box office was located directly on the opposite side of the casino. To get there require a circumnavigation of the facility which took 45 minutes and covered approximately 1.8 miles. Once there, the Cate’s were greeted by a cheerful young lady who took the vouchers in return for reserved seats for the 7:00 pm performance that evening. The performance, you may remember, was going to be at the Saxe Theater so “Why”, you may ask, “did they go to the V Theater for the tickets?” Why indeed. It was explained to them that the Saxe Theater didn’t open until 2:00 pm and it was, at that time, only noonish.

The reason they arrived at noon was because it was their understanding the performance they were going to see was at 1:00 pm and that they needed to be an hour early to ensure reservations. So, in addition to be forced to walk miles and miles to get the tickets, they also had to either endure a 7 hour wait, or eat. So they ate. It was free with the tickets, and the tickets were also free, so that ws good and really left no room for complaint.

Traversing the circumference 15 times, again, they stumbled upon a sign pointing to the Spicy Somethingorother Buffet, one level down. They entered, got a seat, and proceeded to partake.

Jerrie, being the gentleman that he is, stayed in the booth, guarding Diane’s purse, while she filled her plate first. It was a long ordeal for him as she dillydallied over all the choices, deciding what to select. Finally she returned with about 3 small things on her plate, and released Jerrie to gather some food, with instruction to not take too long.

Having had time to view the choices from a distant, he knew exactly what he wanted and returned in 30 seconds for 6 different kinds of shrimp. Shortly after he sat down Diane was off again in search of sustenance. Sitting there, all alone, he ate his shrimp slowly, savoring every bite. All the choices were good, as there are no bad kinds of shrimp, but some are more interesting than others. One choice, for instance, was Buffalo Fried Shrimp.

Finally, the buffet served its purpose by filling them up, so they left. They had decided to return to the condo and lounge by the pool for a few hours fore returning to the evening show. It was windy and overcast, making the pool not a valid choice, so they soaked, instead, in the very hot hot tub. Yes, it was very hot.

They departed their accommodations at 5:45 pm for the transit to the theater. Jerrie knows this is true because at that time he pointed out that they had planned to leave at 5;30 and that they should probably leave soon. He was reminded that he wasn’t in charge of anything and that they’d get there when they got there. He sat quietly on the couch thereafter.

The monorail ride was uneventful, as they usually are, with the exception of one extremely loud couple with whom they had to share their car for two stops. It was annoying.

After the interminable walk to the theater, they were greeted by a stern lady wearing an apron, who ceremoniously ripped off the bottom portion of their tickets, and told them to go left, around the bar. They did, and found themselves surrounded by VIP ticket holders who were waiting to be summoned for the show. While they waited, they purchased two drinks, both sodas, in a wondrous cup with blinking lights on the bottom, for $14. They were allowed to keep the cups forever.

Finally they were summoned to enter the theater and find their seats. It turned out that the VIP ticket actually had value as they were seated smack in the middle, 4th row from the stage. Perfect seats. And, the show was stupendous. It was called “VEGAS! The Show” and was performed by approximately 30 extremely talented young people who took the crowd through the history of Las Vegas. It was one of the most entertaining shows the Cate’s had ever seen and Jerrie remarked that he’d put it right up there with “O”.

Pictures were not allowed in the theater but Jerrie conned someone into taking this one after the show …

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And this one, on the walk to the monorail …

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Too many people, most of them stumbling around with drinks and talking way too loud. Guess the Cates are just getting too old for this kind of stuff.

Day Eight – Oceanside & Camp Pendleton

Since we went to bed around 8:30pm last night, we thought it would be OK to get up at 6:30am this morning. Actually, my bladder thought that would be a good idea. So I did. Besides, I’d been in bed long enough by then.

Diane got up shortly thereafter and started right out talking to me which is unusual because I’m normally not allowed to converse with her for the first couple of hours in the morning. That’s not entirely true … I’m not allowed to talk to her if she just gets up early to use the bathroom with the intention of returning to bed, no matter what time it is. She says if I do, “her head turns on” and she can’t go back to sleep. So I have to work on zipping it, which is difficult for me to do.

The big event of the day was going to the swap meet at Oceanside. We were originally going to the Spring Valley Swap Meet, but thought we would avoid driving long distance and go to the local one.

For those of you not versed in the construction of California, Oceanside is a Marine town located outside Camp Pendleton. The swap meet we went to is held at an old drive in theater that still has four huge screens standing. It’s obvious they are no longer used, but it’s kinda cool. Diane and I used to take the kids to drive ins when we lived in Long Beach many, many, many years ago. I think Jennie was 9 then. Jeff was 12.
Anyway, turns out that Saturday is a slow day for the swap meet and that Sunday is when things are really happening. Most of what was on sale were tools and clothes, and lots of stuff from China. It was fun to walk around and look at all the stuff and we actually bought a few things. This is Diane’s coop de grace:

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This is something we’ll get years of use from, I’m sure. She was delighted, as you can see.

From the swap meet Diane chose the route and we immediately found a “Yard Sale” sight that was just around the corner. We stopped and visited with the guys who seemed to be working the sale and wound up buying a couple of beach chairs for $5. They are classics and will work well with our new umbrella, sitting outside our old Winnebago.

From the yard sale, we went back to the I-5 freeway and headed North for about 30 seconds to the main gate at Camp Pendleton. With our brand new base decal the guard waved us right on through, not even looking at our ID cards. The Navy base will not let us in with looking at IDs. What’s with that? I guess it’s because everyone on Camp Pendleton is armed and dangerous so they are too worried about random scary people.

Our first stop was for gas. On base it’s $4.40 a gallon. Nice. That fill up will last us until Las Vegas. After getting gas, we went to the Commissary to look around and to get some milk and butter … and ice cream … and candy bars. We may have gotten something else, but those were the important items. The Marine commissary is much nice than the Navy’s. Nice big wide aisles, well marked, lots and lots of checkers. And, nice people all over. We enjoyed our little stop there very much.

I was on the base numerous years ago, like in the 60s, when my cousin Brad was stationed there. That’s Gene’s brother. And Kathie’s Uncle. Brad was a Marine Corps Major at the time, and was in charge of base security, as I recall. He gave me a tour of the base and I was amazed at how huge it is and how much open space there was. There’s still lots of open space, but there are many more structures now, and more going up. It’s littered with little strip-like malls with all manner of wares. Nothing like the bases I grew up on during my Navy days. It was pretty incredible. I took this picture as we were driving off the base …

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Not a very good picture, but maybe it’ll give you an idea of what I’m talking about.

When leaving the base, the I-5 Freeway is right there in front of you … North to Los Angeles, South to San Diego. We noticed as we drove over the freeway, to head south, that pretty much everyone in California was heading that direction so the freeway was like a colorful glacier … pretty to look at but not fun to be on. So, we struggled through a 1/4 mile of it and bailed off to take the back streets back to the condo. Along the way we passed Tamarack Avenue, for about the eleventieth time, and thought of Nancy again, as we did every time we passed it this trip, so I took a picture to show her just how far her little St. Helens street really goes. Here it is …

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When we got back to the condo we ate soup. I’m truly sorry that I didn’t take a picture for you. It was very good. We had cheese & crackers with it. Once that was done we sat down and read our books for hours. Then I took a short nap and Brian called me right after I woke up. Perfect timing. Brian, you may, or may not, recall, is one of my old shipmates. We talked for a couple of hours telling each other sea stories about our respective careers, and remembering the time we spent together aboard DD-808 during our WestPac Cruise in 1965. He remembers a lot more than I do. He must be younger. I didn’t ask. Now I’m going to quit.

Day Seven – Lots of Dead Shrimp !

OK, so I didn’t take a picture of the shrimp I ate, but I did get this one after that when we drove around on the Naval Base …

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That’s the USS Peleliu (LHA-5). It was in the same amphibious group as the USS Cleveland and we deployed with her numerous times to the Western Pacific in the 1980s. I believe that she is now the oldest active amphibious ship in service since the USS Cleveland was decommissioned last September. I took pictures of some destroyers, too, but don’t know if you are all cleared to see them.

Now, let’s back up a little … we got up at a reasonable hour this morning and headed back down to San Diego with the intent of getting a smog check so we could get a base sticker for the car. Complicating this was the fact that we had an appointment with Chuck, and his bride Vonnie, at the old Chief’s club at 32nd Street. You may recall that this is where we had prime rib last Wednesday. Today it was dead fish and dead shrimp, and shrimp & chicken pancit. Pancit is noodles. Very good stuff. There was peel and eat shrimp, too. I ate way more than I should have and will probably pay the price when my right big toe breaks out in a terminal case of gout. It won’t really matter since everything from my hip down on the right side hurts. So, a sore big toe is really no big deal. I already limp on that side. I’m not complaining, mind you. I’m just stating facts.

We were able to get the smog check done ($40) but it almost made us late for our rendezvous with Chuck & Vonnie. They had already been through the line and were just sitting down when we sauntered into the joint. We had a great visit and Chuck is going to give us a hand with the September reunion. I’ll have to introduce him to Brian, who also is helping.

After a great visit and lunch, we went to the 32nd Street pass and ID office for our base sticker. I got in line and stood there for about half an hour before someone came out and said their computer system had just crashed and they couldn’t issue decals, just passes. So, I took the pass I already had, went back to the car and “ordered” Diane to take us to the Naval Air Station to see if we could get a decal there. It was a nice ride over the Coronado Bridge, and Diane took the order quite nicely. We quickly got the decal and a nice young lady in uniform, a Seabee from Tennessee, stuck it to our windshield. We won’t need to get another one until 2016.

It turned out that President Carter was at the Hotel Del Coronado today riding a Trikke. Perhaps you saw it on the news. Probably not because it was a local “thing”. I guess he used to live on Coronado a long time ago. That’s just really nice to know, isn’t it?

After we left Coronado we went back to the Naval Base so Diane could shop. No amount of whining and crying on my part would redirect her efforts. So, of course, I went along. The fact that she was driving had nothing to do with the fact that I had to go with her. I could have gotten out any time I wanted to. Really. I could have. She may have even stopped to pick me up and take me to a hospital. Maybe not.

Once done shopping, and confident that the rush hour was at it’s peak, we headed back north to Carlsbad on I-5. Most of the traffic during that time is going South, so it’s really not too bad. We arrived in time for another ho-hum sunset.

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Day Five – 32nd Street Naval Base San Diego

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This is me and Brian. He and I were shipmates on the USS Dennis J. Buckley (DD-808) in 1965. This ship was in the first squadron that was deployed to the Western Pacific specifically for the Viet Nam War. It was the first US ship to conduct NFGS (naval gun fire support) missions during this War. Our first NGFS mission required us to sail up the Saigon River, something we could only o at high tide. This means once in, we had to stay there until the next high tide. The entire time we were in this situation, the gunners shot their 5″ 38 caliber guns at targets provided by an army spotter plane. The Veterans Administration cannot confirm that we ever sailed up the river, making us part of the “Brown Water Navy”, and subject to Agent Orange exposure, because they report they cannot locate the deck logs for that ship during that time. Kinda odd, huh? This is significant because it means they will not allow any claims for agent orange exposure for anyone in that crew for the entire time we were there.

Okay … enough sad sacking.

Diane and I spent a wonderful day with Brian. We ate lunch at the old Naval Base CPO Club. The CPO stands for Chief Petty Officer, which Brian and both were. Now the CPO Club is a catering facility, but is open for a buffet lunch every week day. All you can eat for $11.95 a person. Sure beats the casinos. Today we had prime rib and it was really good. That’s what they have every Wednesday. We’re going back for Friday’s crab & shrimp buffet and I’ll take pictures.

The old Club is an elaborate venue which will serve us well for DD-808’s reunion this coming September. That’s one of the reasons Diane and are in the area, to set up lodging and food for the masses we expect to attend that gala affair. Now all we have to do is figure out a tour for them. I suggested to Diane that we should buy all these old guys trolly passes, get them on the train, and see how many of them can get back to the reunion. She said I probably wouldn’t make it back, and she wouldn’t go with me if I was leading. Now do you wonder why I have absolutely no confidence in my abilities to do pretty much anything? No respect at all … well earned, I might add,.

We stayed on the base, fiddling around in the exchange (that’s a big store) until we were sure everyone else in San Diego was on the freeway. We timed it just right and managed to make the 35 mile, 45 minute trip see like 35 mile, 55 minute trip. And Diane refused to use the car pool lane, staying in the 3rd fastest out there. That amazed me. She usually goes about a zillion miles an hour, or as close to it as she can. She’ll deny that, of course, and I don’t blame her. I would too.

We made it “home” without mishap and immediately put on our jammies, turned on all the TVs, and had a snack. I ate dead shrimp and Diane ate dead chicken pieces. Then we had Haagen Das ice cream bars (little ones), now we’re going to have apple fritter things from Costco. Then I’m going to take a bath. Diane said I smell funny. Plus, she thinks it will help my right leg which I think is atrophying … it’s getting harder to use it all the time. And it hurts. I know. I’m whining again, aren’t I?

I didn’t mention that we got home just in time for sunset. It was pretty ho hum, don’t you think?

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