Last night Diane and I went to see “Beauty & The Beast” at the Keller Auditorium. This was “Thanks” to our friend, Gary K who, sadly (for him), had a scheduling conflict and was unable to attend. He was very generous and now we like him more than ever. Really.

Prior to the play we had dinner at the Keller Cafe. It was very interesting. I’m not saying the food was bad, because it really wasn’t. It was buffet style, so we helped ourselves.

To start, we had Italian Wedding soup. Never had that before. It’s some kind of tiny round pasta, about the size of salmon eggs, but white, in a broth with small pieces of sausages, and a random leaf of spinach. It tasted pretty good, but Diane didn’t like it. When we got the soup, we also got salad and what looked like fried vegetables. Maybe they were roasted. Either way, they weren’t fully cooked. Diane didn’t like them, either, but did OK with the salad, which was fairly normal.

For the entree, I got the Dried Fried Szechuan Green Beans with bell pepper confetti, a hard roll (my favorite), Orzo Pilaf,  Pork Roast, really tiny little pieces of cake, and coffee. Diane didn’t try the beans because they really didn’t look “right,” kinda black and all, but I did and found them to be a delightful compliment to the incredibly dry piece of pork roast that I voluntarily accepted. I have to admit that I was able, with a little effort, to cut the meat with only my butter knife, but that didn’t add any juice to it. I was strongly considering a visit to carver to ask for some ketchup but Diane vetoed that in favor of me just eating it and “dealing with it,” over creating a culinary scene that would, she was sure, embarrass her. I had no doubt she was entirely correct in her assessment of the situation so bit my tongue, figuratively speaking. I ate two rolls, and an extra helping of the beans before we both indulged in multiple pieces of tiny cake and coffee. Diane like those, as did I. After it was done, I was full and satisfied, so didn’t really have anything to complain about at that point.

Though there may have been an issue with some of the food, what made it totally OK was that the Cafe is situated right next to the entrance for the 1st balcony where Gary and Cindy normally sit.

About 10 minutes before curtain time, we found our way to the assigned seats. They were in row A with an excellent view of the stage. Having neither seen the movie, nor read the book, the only thing I knew about Beauty & The Beast were a few of the songs. So, I was delighted with the entire event. The cast was exceptional, especially the beer mug clacking scene. That was awesome! The entire affair was awesome! Thank you Gary!

We did have a little trouble with the crowd and some of the audible aspects of the play which disturbed Diane. The first was with the very large lady sitting next to her who coughed, uncovered, throughout the performance, and the latter was due to Diane’s newly realized need to have her hearing checked. She’s actually known this for some time, but keeps putting off doing it because she fears the cost of hearing aids will set us back 2 or 3 house payments. I told her she could wear mine any time she wants because I always forget to put it in. I’d never know the difference. But she won’t because the only one I have isn’t hers.

Today, after church, we took Diane’s Mom, Jean, to Ichabod’s in Scappoose for lunch. We all had breakfast. I always have breakfast at Ichabod’s. That was hours ago so now it’s time for supper so I’m having a toasted peanut butter and jelly sandwich. This is something new I’ve learned to like. The first time I made one the peanut butter and jelly kinda sizzled away in the skillet. Now I just toast the bread first and put the fixings on after. Much cleaner. What I really like about them is that I don’t have to worry about jelly squishing out the sides when I take a bite. with the bread toasted, it stays firm and flat, allowing me to eat each half of the sandwich separately without getting jelly anywhere on my body. There’s no need for me to wear color-coded shirts with a meal like this.

Now I’m done.

Now that I’m retired, Monday Mornings just aren’t the same. They’re exactly like every other day, but different. I used to wake up on Mondays eager to ride the red snake to Portland where I would assume a position much like the one I’m in at this moment. Poised professionally behind a computer, clicking away at one task or another, and waiting for the phone to ring so I could solve my first mystery of the day. Now I’m poised in my pajamas, and my clientele consist of my lovely bride, three dogs, and whoever wishes to call seeking help.

The dogs don’t generally have any issues with computers so they’re easy to assist. All they need are full food bowls so they’ll have something to argue about during the day. And water.

Hmmmm. Wonder what happened there. Some sort of melancholy thing, I guess. Way too serious. Perhaps the reason I went down that road was because Diane left me alone for a while yesterday when she went to church to meet with some of the ladies to hold a prayer vigil for a friend. Her name is also Diane. She went to the hospital last Thursday for chest pains, and wound up getting a 5 hour session of open heart surgery. She had an aortic aneurism which normally kills folks outright, but she survived. The vigil was to pray for her recovery because she hasn’t yet awakened since the operation. The doctors are optimistic, but it’s one of those things that that’s hard to fathom. Bad things just happen so quickly so treasure every second you have.

I’m writing a book about history. Not the way you learned it, but the way it really happened. From the beginning. So far it’s five chapters long, but it’s only 10 pages so there’s some filling I need to add. Shouldn’t take me more than a couple more days and I’ll be done with it.

Today I took Ziva & Ozzie to the vet to get their rabies boosters. I put a big red leash on Ozzie, and black on Ziva because they’re supposed to be on a leash in the office. I told the attendant that the dogs were twins and I used the different colored leashes so I could tell them apart. They figured it out right away, though, when I had to put the dogs on the scale. One at a time. Ozzie weighs 6.4 pounds. Ziva weighs 74.4 pounds. And, when you look closely, they don’t look much alike at all. The doc said Ziva was overweight, which didn’t make her happy, but she took her shots well and decided going to the vet wasn’t all that bad because she got treats. Ozzie wasn’t having anything to do with the treats and gave the doctor his Elvis lip when she tried to pet him. He can do that on either side of his face and it looks pretty scary. So, I had to hold his nose until she was done.

When I got home I put on my three day old working clothes that have been laying on the bedroom floor for three days, and went out to whack some black berry vines. I quickly learned that the gloves I was wearing weren’t up to the task of protecting my tender little fingers very well. I was constantly pulling thorns out of them. What made them stick in the gloves was the points that imbedded themselves in my skin. Apparently the thorns have been trained from birth to leave a small piece of themselves behind when pulled from human flesh. Now I have little black dots on my fingers and hands. I took a couple of shots across the face with some unwieldy vines, too, and Diane wouldn’t let me come back into the house until the bleeding stopped. So, I just kept working. Finally, at 5 pm, Diane said I could come in to eat supper. She figured it had been long enough for the blood to have solidified on my wounds, and she was right. Now all I have to do is wait for the wounds to fester so I can pop the rest of the thorns out of them.

Now its time for bed, and there I must go.

Do you believe in Fate, or Destiny? I do, and have many reasons I could share to substantiate why. For this day, I’ll limit it to one.

Yesterday I had lunch with a WWII veteran at the St. Helens Senior Center. This is the second time I sat across the table from him in the last two months. I only go on days that Diane volunteers to serve with our church ladies. He goes there every day.

Both Diane and I are card carrying members of the senior center, but rarely go. Sadly, the reason, as my new friend astutely surmised, “some times the lunch isn’t so good.” But, it’s only $4 for a nutritious meal and it serves our community well. The Center does more than meals, but that’s all I’ve investigated, so far. They have many activities to keep folks moving and thinking.

I learned a great deal about this gentleman while visiting over lunch. Mainly, I discovered that he was in the Navy during World War II and spent his entire enlistment in the South Pacific, 1943 thru 1945. While we talked he revealed that he’s having difficulty with the VA regaining control of his finances. He’s 100% disabled, you see, and at one point it was determined that he needed someone to take care of his money. His efforts to get a valid ruling on this issue was met with silence. His main connection to the VA was the local VA Service Officer who is no longer in that position. So, the VA ships in folks from Portland and Salem a couple of times a week.

Taking my first step down a different road, I offered to see what I could do to help my shipmate. Knowing how understaffed the VA is, I had no illusions about a speedy resolution. So, you can imagine my surprise when I called the local VA office and obtained an appointment at 11:00 am this morning for him. I was flabbergasted, to say the least. It’s as if, gee, let’s see … like it was meant to be, that I was in the right place at the right time. It took me weeks to get an appointment for myself with the last VASO, so getting one for the next day was kind of like a miracle.

When I picked him up, he had a letter from the VA that he had received yesterday afternoon. It addressed the issue for which I obtained the appointment. “Hmmm,” goes I. “What a coincidence,” I think.

The VA Service Officer we met with is a retired Marine. He’s one of the VASO managers from Salem, and one who trains VASO’s how to do their jobs. It goes without saying that he knew his “stuff”. After a couple of phone calls he had a course of action and felt there would be action on this issue very soon. Perhaps, in only a couple of weeks.

Both of us left that meeting with different feelings. My friend no longer felt alone and abandoned by a system that’s in place to help him. Me? I left with a sense of wonder at how all of this came together so quickly. It was very humbling. My belief is that by extending a helping hand without expectations, or any kind of a plan, something clicked in the universe to make it all work. It wasn’t me, it was the act. I was a tool.

It’s odd for me to be writing about something serious. It’s just not something I do. I usually poke fun at my lovely bride, and she takes it in stride, knowing I don’t mean a word of it. This is different, however.

Our WWII Vets are disappearing at an alarming rate and we need to honor them. The VASO said it best that, had it not been for my new friend, and all those with whom he served, we would be speaking different language in America today. Literally.

So, thank a vet whenever you see one.

Thanks, Lyle, Jim, and Jack, Gary, Jerry1, Jerry3, Bob, Larry, and all the rest of you who served our nation in any way.

I just laid around and did nothing all day long.

Had  been allowed to do that yesterday, at least for a little while longer, I probably wouldn’t have been injured so severely.

Jeran laid around with me and also did nothing all day long. We talked a lot and watched a lot of “How it’s Made” on the Science Channel. Now I know how frozen waffles are made.