First, Diane’s much better … the dreaded shingles (totally misnamed as previously noted) is fading, and the pain is decreasing in intensity. Either that, or Diane is just getting used to it.

Now, about a new obsession …

We’re trapped on our couch and cannot get up except to use the facilities and have a spot of tea once in a while. The reason? We discovered ‘Downton Abbey’. It’s on Xfinity on demand. Every episode since season one.There’re 21 episodes available and we’ve plowed our way through 14 of them since Wednesday. I know, that’s a lot of TV in a short time, but we’re trapped. It’s really nice that Matthew and Mary have finally figured out what  everyone already knew, that they should marry to save the abbey, and all of Mary’s Mother’s money. But the sad part is weighing heavy on us, wondering how poor Mr. Bates is going to find release from prison after throttling his wretched first wife. She deserved what she got. Now, however, the love of Anna’s life is locked up for life.

Then there’s Sybol, who ran off with the chauffeur. To Ireland, of all places.

This show appears to be a more than adequate replacement for the now defunct ‘All My Children’. Kinda makes me want to be ‘in service’ for the Earl of Whats-it’s-chester.

Today was a date ‘night’ for Diane and me. We went to a Portland Symphony production called ‘Ballroom With a Twist’. It was at the Schnitz. Diane wanted to go because it featured Anna Trebunskaya and Tristan MacManus, pro dancers from the ever popular ‘Dancing With the Stars’ show. We were more than surprised when it turned out that Anna & Tristan were the hosts and the show consisted of two ‘American Idol’ singers, as well as dancers from ‘So You Think You Can Dance’, and the entire group of youngsters from ‘Dancing With The Stars’. What fun it was. Two hours of non-stop music and dancing. Quite remarkable and memorable. It was a very nice date. Also, it was a matinee, not at night, so we got home before dark.

Now it’s time to eat supper and watch a few more episodes of ‘Downton Abbey’ before we go to bed. Won’t be long before we’re all caught up and we can go back to our normal 3-4 hours of TV a day instead of 7-8 hours. Wears me out.

Shingles. What a terrible thing for anyone to have. They do, however, dwindle in severity over time and I can tell you that Diane is getting better. She been getting cocky a little earlier each day for the past week or so, and today she let me know that she’s almost back. She hit me with a broom for absolutely no reason at all. You can tell that she’s still not up to par, however, because her aim was off a bit and she hit me right on the bone of my left forearm instead of my rear end. It hurt a great deal but she didn’t care. Apparently she thought I deserved it and I don’t think she’s well enough to participate in a sustained argument.

So, after holding my arm until the pain went away, I continued making the bed and sweeping the floor … oh, now I remember … I swiffered the entire bedroom then she started wiping around in corners with a straw floor broom. I went over that area again with the swiffer. That’s when she hit me. And yelled. It’s apparent that a straw broom trumps a swiffer.

I’m glad she’s getting better.

Last year Panzie misplaced her squirrel with the squeeky tail. We’ve looked everywhere for it, but cannot find it. She has shunned all attempts to replace it with one of Ozzie’s toys, of which he has many, but none of them squeek. So, she’s been playing less and eating more, gaining unsightly dog weight. Both she and Ozzie are on half rations, as I reported in a previous entry, and Oz is actually getting a noticeable waist line again. Panzie, however, hasn’t made it that far.

Today things changed. Panzie’s life has been improved. She’s a happy dog again with the addition of a new (to her) squeeky sock monkey. She was overcome with joy when I gave it to her, as you can see.

What’s significant about this toy is that it used to belong to Thomas, Cedric, Lydia, and Jeran’s dog. Due to his declining health he was released from this mortal plane last year. He and Panzie got along great when Panzie stayed at his house when Diane and I found it necessary to go on vaction. During those visits Panzie would not play with the sock monkey, because it wasn’t hers. Now that it is, we suspect she will lose weight and get back to fighting form.

On a side note, Panzie spent last Sunday night outside. She apparently stepped outside when I opened the front door to see what all the commotion was across the street. George was having a Super Bowl Party. That was about 9:30 pm. He terminated the noise before 10 which was very neighborly of him. When I got up Monday morning I searched the house for Panzie so I could let her out with Oz, but she was no where to be found. I finally found her sitting on the front porch where I believe she spent the night. She’s a big dog and is between 12-15 years old, so spending the night in freezing cold took it’s toll on her. She was all stiff and sore.

Today, after getting her sock monkey, she went back to normal.

So … today Diane took Ozzie for his poodle-do. He gets those about once a month because he’s a poodle. Not a real one, mind you, but one of the pretend toy ones. But he’s our pretend poodle. Here he is …

It’s odd that he had his poodle-do today because neither Diane, nor her Mom, Jean, were scheduled for haircuts. They almost always get them on Ozzie’s poodle-do day.

Anyway, when Don finally delivered me back home the front door was locked and Diane was gone so I had to find an alternative way into the house.

Wait! You didn’t know I was gone, did you. Well, I was. I was gone for a lot of hours. So, lets go back in time, a little …

On the day I was born it was a bright sunny day. It was raining outside and the snow was about a foot deep. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked … OK, OK! Too far back …

This morning I got up with the intention of getting nothing done before 11:30 am because I knew Don was going to pick me up to go look at his new computer and help him learn how to do ‘things’ on it. This was arranged yesterday. His lovely wife, Judy, bought him the new computer – a 15″ MacBook Pro. Nice. I figure he wanted to just show off because his is bigger than my piddly little 13″-er. But, that wasn’t actually the case. He really had valid questions.

First, however, we went to a beer joint for lunch. I had a bacon cheeseburger with fries. It was really good. I don’t know who paid for it.

From the beer joint we went to Don’s house to check his computer. The issue was he couldn’t print to his wireless printer unless he connected a USB cable. That kind of defeats the wireless aspect. The solution, of course, was to retrain his new computer to do without the USB leash and reach out to the printer with it’s little wireless fingers. Now it works nicely. Don’t know what good it’s going to do him because he and Judy are flying out to Hawaii tomorrow. Lucky duck. They will be gone for a month. Super-duper lucky duck.

When Don and I left our house Diane was in the hot tub downstairs and I didn’t want to have to run out of the garage trying to beat the door as its motor lowered it. So, I went out the front door thinking I’d just lock it on the way out, but the keyring I grabbed didn’t have a key so I just left it unlocked thinking I’d just go back in that direction.

When Don dropped me off at home I waved my goodbyes then went to the front door and found it locked. Mysterious. Then I looked in the garage and found Diane’s vehicle missing. Mysterious-er. I didn’t know she was going anywhere so I was concerned that someone had appeared at the door and hijacked her.

Putting that grim thought aside, I snuck my way around to the kitchen door and found it unlocked. Perplexing. The hijack theory was beginning to sound more plausible. Diane never leaves that door unlocked. Well, almost never. Maybe once in a while.

Once inside, I discovered Ozzie’s kennel upended and empty and I knew Panzie didn’t do it. Neither did the cat. My hijack theory segued into a dog napping. I got a snack thinking I would sit down and ponder all other possibilities for these mysteries. Before I could finish the snack the garage door went up and Panzie started barking, like normal, because Diane was returning.

I restrained Panzie from going into the garage until Diane got parked, then turned her loose to run in the front yard. Opening the driver’s door, like I normally do, Diane told me please get Oz, who was cowering on the passenger seat in his new bandana and hairdo which explained everything.

Then I was given the bad news. Diane said Kay-Kay, Ozzie’s stylist, told her that Ozzie’s fat and needs to lose weight. Diane and I had mentioned that to each other over the past few months, but didn’t do anything about it. Now that we have outside influence we must do something about it.

Therefore, beginning tomorrow morning, much to Ozzie’s dismay, he’s going on half rations. Instead of a full pouch of food each morning, and unlimited crunchies, he’s only getting half a pouch, and unlimited crunchies. If that doesn’t work, the unlimited crunchies will be revisited at a later date.

The only thing that bothers me about all of this is that I had no idea that dog stylists had the authority to dictate how her clients owners should, or should not feed them. But, apparently they do, so we will comply.

I’ll let you know how that goes.

By the way, that’s Ozzie on the left.

Yesterday I went to the car show at the Portland Convention Center. I took Tom and his stepson Kyle. To do that required that I had to drive about a hundred miles out of my way to pick them up. Tom’s wheelchair went in the back. He’s still gets a bit tired when walking any significant distance, so the chair was required. Tom, as you may recall, is our friend who had a stroke not long ago, and he’s also the friend who wrapped his bloody leg with a kotex but didn’t unwrap it first. Nifty. I have pictures.

Our friend, Mike, was kind enough to slide tickets our direction so entrance was free. Mike and I worked together at PGE for years and have maintained contact even though he’s moving to Mission Viejo, from Oregon City. He’s been working at the car show for years, and years so he knows people. We really appreciated the tickets as well as getting a chance to talk with him for a little while. He’s a busy guy.

We parked right next to the entrance door which is amazing, and we were right on schedule to connect with Japanese Jerry, as he calls himself for clarification, by the $126,000 Corvette in the Chevy section. That was scheduled for 1100. On the way across the floor we went through the Cadillac display and I sat in the new XTS, Diane’s new car in a few years. Nice.

After Jerry found us we wandered around a bit, then went up to the custom car section to see Jerry’s car, again. He’s a member of the Pharaohs car club. They have some pretty classy vehicles. Here are Jerry, me, and Tom standing in front of Jerry’s Camaro… 

Jerry, who lives in Vancouver, WA professes to be an Oregon Duck fan so it’s very perplexing why he had his car painted Oregon Beaver colors. He won’t talk about it so we may never really know. But, it’s a really nice car. Here’s another view of it …

I think I mentioned that Kyle’s a big guy … here’s proof …

While walking around the vehicles, we came across Jerome Kersey, one of our old favorite Trailblazers. Another big guy. Very nice, too. I think I came up to about his shoulder. No picture. Just name dropping.

I’ll end this with one snap of me in Diane’s new car …

I also have a ‘small world’ bit to share … as we were loading things into the Buick, I turned to go around to the driver’s door, and about ran smack into Spud & Leona. I was in highschool with Spud. We played drums together in the school band. Now he owns two ACE Hardware stores and I sit around doing stuff like this. It was good to see them, as always. Just fun to run across them in the midst of all those people.

Meetings! It seems like my working life has been nothing but a series of meetings.

Meetings in the morning, meetings in the evening, meetings all afternoon. Because of them, it’s always amazed me that any work gets done at all. Especially in a timely manner.

The meeting tomorrow, however, only happens once a year. That’s about the best kind of meeting ever, don’t you think? I suppose some, perhaps many, of you think it’s OK to have non-stop meetings because they allow foster teamwork and, when held during lunch, result in a free sandwich. I actually didn’t mind those at all. I love my sandwiches.

Tomorrow’s meeting is for our church during which we present the condition of our finances, plead for more money, and beg congregates to volunteer to help out on council. That’s a tough nut to crack with these folks, however. No one volunteers any more. So, as the volunteer council president, I’ve decided to exert my tremendous powers and will start appointing people to positions that need to be filled. If they decline, they’ll have to do so in front of everyone else, not during a one-on-one conversation. This will be public. I’m going to push the envelope a little. I’m not worried about reprisals because I’m a volunteer. It’s kind of one of those situations where people will start to complain then suddenly quit because they realize the alternative is for them to volunteer instead. That’s a bit like a story my Dad used to tell … he was a cowboy, sheep herder, carpenter, electrician plumber, and mechanic.

He told us about the chuck wagon cook for cattle drives. I suppose the chuck wagon for a sheep drive would be a little smaller, and the wheels would turn faster, but the concept is the same … the cook is always the last guy who complained about the food. Cooking for a while was OK, but it gets tiring after a while and the cook misses going out on his horse, chasing cattle, or sheep, so he starts messing with the food to encourage someone to make a complaint.

As the story goes the cook had had enough and decided to make his move. After gooking a great meal, he stepped way out of bounds by putting cow patties in his nicely backed crust, covering it with another fine example of his mastery of pastery.

Everyone raved about how good the main course was, then it came time for pie. One cowboy took his dessert back to his place by the fire, took a big bite and involuntarily blurted out, “This tastes just like cow crap!” Then he saw the cook smiling at him and added, “but it’s good.” There was never any mention of whether or not the dessert was finished, but I think the point was made. The cook retained his position.

That’s what it’s like to be on council. Folks complain about how things are handled, but they don’t want to see how they can help. At least it seems that way in our little country church. And, that’s OK. I’ll just keep doing it, probably until I die.

The council meets once a month throughout the year. Sometimes we have things to actually vote on. Sometimes we even have a quorum so the votes can be made official. That doesn’t always happen, however. Since I’m president, I’ve made it OK for council members to vote via email. The only ones who complain about that are those who staunchly refuse to move into the electronic age by shunning computers. I find that interesting, but don’t worry about it because I can easily obtain a quorum online. The non-electronically inclined council members find out what’s going on through gossip, or at the next council meeting, 2nd Tuesday of every month. Everyone is welcome, but normally attendees are only council members. Sometimes all of them show up. Those are festive meetings.

Diane is feeling much, much better. Probably good enough to go to church tomorrow and provide support for the meeting that I must facilitate. I think she’s really going to ensure I follow all the rules and don’t say anything that will embarass her. I’ve been known to do that.

I’ll let you know how that goes.

I opened this to add something unique and interesting, perhaps profound, but whatever that thought was has been relegated to one of the less accessible wrinkles in my brain at the moment. It will return unexpectedly in a few days, causing me to jump, and make a distinct left turn in the conversation I’m having, allowing the person to whom I’m talking to rightfully determine that I’m just a little off center.

My lovely wife, Diane, is used to this and calls them ‘chicken moments.’ You know, like the saying on one of the T-shirts I don’t have (yet):

“My mom thinks I have ADHD, but I don’t know what she’s talking about because I’m perfectly nor … Oh look, there’s a chicken!”

… or a cow, squirrel, something shiny …

I’m not alone here, am I?

I bet some of you do the same thing.

C’mon, admit it …

Shingles still infest our domain. They are ravaging the home, threatening to diminish our resolve. This morning, however, a light broke upon the horizon when the sufferer of this life sucking virus was granted a visitation with her new doctor. Someone cancelled, allowing her access. The person cancelling did not know what a service they were providing.

Since this will be the patient’s first visit to this doctor, her new primary care doctor, it will be interesting to see what manner of attitude she has upon her return. Will she be smiling because it was good? Frowning because it was bad? Grimacing and smiling because she’s still in pain but the visit was good? Frowning and grimacing because she’s still in pain and it was a bad visit? Do you not see my quandry as I sit waiting, home alone?

I wanted to drive her to this appointment but she refused stating, “I want to go alone!” Not the exclamation point on the end of that statement. It was an emphatic statement no only because I had suggested more than once that I drive her, but because she really did want to go alone. This confuses me because it is a blatant example of double standard behavior. I’m NEVER allowed to drive myself to the doctor when she’s in the vicinity.

It’s been an hour and she just returned with a grimace and a smile, so things are good. She likes her new doctor and had a thorough exam. AND, she has another appointment for next week. The original first appointment was on March 19th for a new patient intake. Nice. Life is good.

Now I must terminate and go about the business of cooking, cleaning, and laundry. My small effort to alleviate the burden so she can recover without having to worry about those things. I think I’ve done a pretty good job so far. Regarding food, neither of us has lost weight during this 2-week medical interlude in our lives, so I must be doing OK there. The laundry is piling up a little, but we both have lots of underwear and generally spend the majority of our time in jammies. I’ve pretty much been banned from doing laundry since I caused one of her sweaters to disappear into the dryer lint trap. I don’t think it was supposed to be dried that way. Cleaning is another issue … I always run the vacuum cleaner because when she does it she trashes her back and shoulders. Since mine are already trashed I figure it’s OK if I do it. I like to help and it gives me the chance to use the new Kenmore cannister vac she bought me to replace the $10 Rainbow I bought her years ago. That one finally started making so much noise that it was time to let it go.