Hoover Dam, New Blance, & Nike

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Today I received confirmation that alternate universes do, indeed, exist because I was transported to one of them. In the universe to which I was accustomed, my, and Jack’s, big brother, Jimmie, friended me on Facebook. I believe I mentioned him at points in the past. Remember? He’s the anal one. I know, that sounds bad, but it really isn’t. He just has to have everything, I mean EVERYTHING, neat and tidy. Even the rusty things he has are neat. Plus, he’s the only person I know, in any universe, who can watch TV like this …

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Here’s what he looks like standing on the westbound side of Highway 93 on the Pat Tillman Bridge overlooking the Hoover Dam. But, he has sun glasses on so you can’t really tell if his eyes are open or not … you’ll notice, too, that he’s wearing a Scappoose hat. Yes, it does exist.

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So, here’s Jim, who only recently discovered that computers had to be turned on to function, they don’t just come on when you enter a room, exposing himself to the world of Facebook. In a million years I never thought that would happen. Donna has been trying to get him more involved with the computer for many years so she wouldn’t have to repeat emails to him, and such. Until now, he’s resisted successfully. Apparently she finally got out the old cattle prod and convinced him sleep would be difficult if he didn’t take that giant step into the present century. For that, I’m proud of them both – Donna for her perseverance, and Jim for finally bending a little. Welcome to the electronic world. I can say that, directly to him, since I’m guessing he’ll be reading this. I am proud of him, too. Good onya, Jimmie!

Now, about sneakers. Specifically, New Balance and Nike kinds of sneakers. This part is for Susan who shared a great photo of her new NB sneakers on Facebook indicating they were the replacements for those she obtained in 2010. She’s been working them hard, getting into shape, and she absolutely wears me out with all the exercisy-type things she’s doing every day. She has the voice of an angel. I’m proud of her, but this is about sneakers and feel compelled to share a picture of my new sneakers that Diane insisted I needed.

She gave them to me for Christmas because she knows I’ll never get them on my own. They are so incredibly comfortable that she got another pair. Now I have two pair! The new ones replaced a pair of Nike Airs that I’ve had for approximately 20 years. They’ve been worn out for a long time, but they seemed to be comfortable to me. I guess that’s true because I just didn’t know any better. Here’s what they look like …

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The old brown ones have been good to me over the years but it’s time to let them go. Still, they will make good work shoes, I think. I’m going to keep them.

The new ones, as I stated, are extremely comfortable. For me that’s pertty easy because I’m not a runner. I just walk. That’s why the old ones have lasted such a long time. They haven’t run anywhere. Ever. The new ones aren’t going to run, either. Unless something scares me.

Here’s one pair of them …

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… and here’s the other pair …

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They are exactly the same, but different.

I figure it doesn’t matter what color I wear so I just make sure I have one right and one left. Lydia approves, I’m sure, because she does the same thing, with socks. In her world it’s wrong to wear matching socks.

Maybe I’m starting a new fad with shoes.

Maybe not.

Messy Drawers, and Little Kids

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Today was interesting because Diane woke up full of adrenalin and instructions. Fortunately, for me, because I was taking my morning nap during the initial surge, but I was caught up in it when I started to pay attention to the little noises going on all around me.

When I got up, I found Diane in the hall, to the East Wing, staring at a spot on the wall. She had one of our prints in her hand and was trying to determine if where she was staring was a good place to put it. Not being totally awake, I just agreed with everything she said which was the wrong response because she was looking for opinions. Normally I have those, but not when I first wake up, or when it involves hanging pictures on the wall. If left to my own devices, I’d just start hammering nails in the wall and hang everything up. We’ve been in the house for 7 years, now, and not many things have been hung up, yet. I believe today is the beginning of a change. We got one picture hung!

Shortly thereafter, she went searching for something in one of the floor level drawers in the butler’s hall. I like saying that, “Butler’s Hall.” It just sounds all hoy faloy and uppity. It’s really just a hallway between the kitchen and Man Room that really doesn’t have to be there. I think I’ll knock the kitchen wall down and rearrange everything. I’ll do that one day when Diane’s out shopping at Goodwill.

Back to the drawers, we have three of those drawers, and they are extremely hard to open and close. Especially when they’re full of things we really don’t need. Having a knack for dealing with things we don’t need, and having a new-found desire to rid ourselves of at least some of them, I took over the task of pawing through the drawer innards.

Inside I found a couple of small bags of soft, practice golf balls, six golf tees, 40-50 pens & pencils, a set of nice dog trimming shears as well as one for people, dog and cat flea killer, a roll of teflon tape, 8 furniture glides, a crazy ball the size of a small marble, a wrapped package containing six boxes of sparklers from 1995, three unopened packages containing a dog toothbrush and paste, and many others various kinds of things that get thrown into little used drawers with a sincere belief they will be taken care of at a later date. Proving the latter to be true, I took care of it all. The drawer is now all neat and tidy containing far fewer things we absolutely don’t need. The other two drawers are already pretty neat so I will leave them alone. One of them is the repository or about 75 placemats of varying designs to match virtually any occasion.

While finishing that up, Diane made a wonderful lunch composed of small parts of a dead pig, mashed potatoes, and one of the 35 cans of string beans we have stashed in another drawer in the hall that is difficult to open and close. Dealing with that is an entirely different project.

During lunch we watched a bit of the movie “Hangover II”. The meal was finished before the movie but we didn’t finish it because Jeff, Heather, and girls showed up to play in the snow.

The girls arrived at the door with their boots already full of snow which we learned was from the walk up the hill because the car couldn’t make it. They had a really good time of it and were ready to spend some time inside.

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Gilligan, on the right, displayed her normal demure self. She’s always on stage.

Then it was time to go, so everyone got all bundled up and went outside to play a bit before trundling down the hill to the car, and home. Getting the entire group to look the same direction, at the same time, without moving, or putting their hands up, is a difficult thing to do, so this is about as good as it gets. Gilligan is winking, Jerrie is trying to get away, and Baylee is doing what she can to get presentable. Something going on all the time, but at least they’re in one place for a moment.

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They tried to make snow angels, but simply laying down didn’t work because there’s a crust of ice on top of the snow and they didn’t sink in. To attain this position we got them to stand up, put their hands up and fall over backwards. Even so, they didn’t get very deep, but they had fun.

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Jeff even got into the spirit and did the flop.

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… and he made a right nice snow angel.

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At some point during all the outdoor frivolity, Gilligan decided it would be an excellent idea to bury her perfectly good had in the snow. When it was time to leave, she couldn’t remember where she did it. We split up, following all the smaller footprints, to check for likely burial spots, but we had no luck. I searched a bit longer after they left, but the hat is still missing and will remain so until the snow melts.

Winter Olympics and Small Town Snow

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I got in a bit of trouble yesterday because my blog entry was deemed to be pretty scattered with lots of errors. I would gladly allow her to edit them before sending, but she’s never ready to read when I’m ready to send. So, I just send when done and deal with the consequences later. I’m getting really good at that … dealing with the consequences. I’ve tried convincing her to just log in to my draft, correct it, and send it, but she refuses.

It’s been snowing most of the day again today, adding to the 11 inches we got yesterday. It’s only been two days but I can officially report that I’ve enjoyed it enough. It’s really pretty, and all, like a postcard, but I’m tired of drying off the dogs when they come back to the house all soggy. Actually, only Panzee comes back soggy because Ozzie isn’t really a snow person. The first time he went out in it, this time, the snow was already about 6 inches deep and he sunk up to his chin when he walked off the porch steps. He maintained his composure quite nicely, I thought, lifted his leg, though it didn’t accomplish much, and made some yellow snow. Then he turned right around and came back to the porch. He’s been a little leery about going outside since then and needs an escort to the door, to make sure we’re serious about it. Unless there’s something to bark at in the field.

We watched the Olympic Games opening ceremonies today. Just a few brief comments and I’ll leave this one alone. I loved the technology they used to get it all done, but I could have gone a long time without the ballet and the opera. I understand that those things are a huge part of Russian culture, but I just don’t care. Guess I’m a bit insensitive. I remember being in grade school and having to crawl under my desk during drills to avoid being demolished by the evil Russian atomic bombs. Made sense at the time, and it was scary. So, I guess you could say not caring much about Russia is a learned trait from my 1950’s childhood.

As we watched the countries enter the arena and critiqued the uniforms. The only comments I can recall is that one of country’s uniform colors looked like a lawn chair I lost, and that many of them looked like candidates for yard sales in the spring. We agreed that our favorite was Latvia. We liked The Netherlands, too. Both of those countries used earth toned colors which I really like. The USA and Russian teams were very festive, and colorful, but I don’t see them being worn anywhere but the Olympics, this year. That’s just me, of course.

Then there’s Norway with their mind-altering redwhiteandblue zigzag print. Wow!

I just took a break and walked Panzee down to our mailbox to see if we had mail. She’s a good walker because she doesn’t need a leash. When I turned around to go home, she was off and running, not wanting to have anything to do with being out in the snow. Although it’s been snowing for the better part of two days, we still only have about 12 inches. I attribute that to the fact that it’s a bit warmer, the snow is more dense, and it’s all compressing. Kinda like me … the older I get, the shorter I get.

Part of the mail was a box that had “Keep Frozen” printed on it. I thought, perhaps, someone sent us a steak, or something, and that we might be able to eat dinner after all. But, it was only a pair of sneakers Diane bought from Goodwill. They deliver, you know, and they just use whatever box is handy.

Before I quit I’ll add some photos to ease your mind, in case you figured that I forgot how to use my camera, or that I lost it …

First is one of the Doug Fir trees in Diane’s Mom’s back yard next to the River Milton. Actually, it’s Milton Creek, but River Milton sounds more classy.

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This is the back of her house. Her heat pump is directly below the ice cycles.

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Then there’s Panzee trying to figure out what I meant when I asked her to check how deep the snow was. This is from yesterday.

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I must also add that I have power that I didn’t realize I had. Considering the dangerous weather conditions, I decided to cancel church services for tomorrow. Oddly, everyone I called agreed. Even Pastor. I hope this doesn’t go to my head and make me difficult to live with.

Now, I’m done. Hope everyone is safe and warm.

Driving in the snow

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I’m actuality pretty good at doing that, driving in the snow. To test my naturally imbued skills, I took a drive today. I had to because we used the last bit of Panzee’s pouch food this morning. She’ll want more of it in the morning. If I don’t have it she’ll just make my day totally miserable. I know. She’s done that before.

I ran out once before and had to use a pouch of Ozzie’s food as a substitute and she was absolutely incensed for being downgraded to, well, an actually pouch of food. Her’s, you see, actually comes from a can. She knows this, and is convinced the can keeps the food in a more tasty manner than an actual flimsy pouch. Ozzie doesn’t really care. If it isn’t crunchy, he’ll generally eat it, after a bit of investigating.

First stop, on the way to get dog food, and bananas, was ACE Hardware. I didn’t really need anything there. I discovered that he was working today and just and to stop by and say Hi. So, I did. I was dressed very warmly, because the temp is still low 20’s, so I didn’t stay in the store for long. We did, however, have time to share stories about the favorite wrecks we’ve seen over the years. It was entertaining, and we had a good visit.

Yes, I needed to get bananas, too. For us, and for Diane’s Mom, Jean. I forgot that part.

Getting to ACE wasn’t very difficult, even though the side roads around us do not get plowed. The Buick, however, couldn’t care less. I backed out of the driveway, scraping away all the snow above the 8″ level as though it wasn’t there. There was no hesitation then, or at any time during the entire I was gone. So, I will not dwell on the trip. It was very uneventful as everyone I encountered seemed to be on their best driving behavior. It was a very nice drive in the snow.

After ACE I went to Safeway for the bananas. I got them quickly and was back on the street within a matter of minutes even though here were a considerable number of people in there shopping.

From Safeway I drove straight across Highway 30 to Wal*Mart where the less expensive dog food lives. That’s where we normally get it. The parking lot was just a mess of packed snow but, as I said, the Buick didn’t care. There was a female employee out front doing her best to collect shopping carts from the parking lot, but they were almost impossible to maneuver through the snow. A very tough job. I spoke with her a bit and wished her well with her task.

Inside the store I navigated unobstructed to the pet supplies and only missed the correct location by one aisle. Once located, I loaded 16 cans of Panzee food, and one 12-pack of Ozzie pouch food into the cart I captured upon entry. Back at the front I discovered a cashier who was unencumbered with a customer and was more than happy to ring me up and accept my money.

As I left the store, I left the cart by the front door and carried my purchases to the Buick because I did not want to add to the shopping cart employee’s burden. It was the correct thing to do. I’m sure she would have appreciated it had she been there to see, but she must have been out retrieving carts used by less considerate customers.

 From Wal*Mart I put my sights on Grandma’s House. That would be Diane’s Mom, Jean. We all call her Grandma, although to the majority of related humans in the area she is Great Grandma. That’s OK because she is already trained to respond to Grandma so we’ll stick with that.

Her driveway was a pristine sheet of unadulterated snow. No foot prints to betray her promise to not attempt, for any reason, to go to her mail box. Her driveway has a little slope to it so going down it in the snow isn’t something she should be doing. But, she will, given the chance.

Seeing no foot prints, I went to the mailbox to retrieve what was left, and it was empty. I was nearly stunned. Not quite, but almost. When I got to the front door Grams met me and explained that some wandering children were kind enough to retrieve the mail for her. I delivered her bananas, visited a bit, then headed on home.

The trip up Pittsburgh Road was going to be the final test for the Buick because it is notoriously bad, even on a good day. It proved to be no problem, as did the small hill on Hillcrest Road leading to our house.

When I opened the garage door the dogs began their greeting ritual that only ends when the interior door is opened and they are released into the wild. Generally, they run out into the driveway, then into the yard, where Panzee relieves herself in her special spot. Ozzie turns onto the sidewalk and makes three stops. One at the flowering Lenten Roses, another at some Lilly of the Valley he doesn’t like, and that I’ve been trying to kill since we’ve been her, then again at a bare spot that always seems to get his attention. The Lenten Roses, incidentally, always seem to be in bloom, year round. I don’t understand that. They should die like everything else when it gets cold, but they don’t.

After the ritual, we return to the house and settle down for the rest of the day, no matter if it’s morning or afternoon. Panzee’s greeting ritual is always a joyful event because she talks to us. It’s not a bark, or a howl, but just her voice which she wavers by rolling her jaw. It’s very entertaining and such a happy sound.

Diane’s better today. She’s been sick for a couple of months. First a bad cold, then a bad stomach ailment. Next week we’re going to Hawaii. I’m sure she’ll be perfectly OK by then. If she isn’t, we’re not going. That’s her incentive to get better. I’m sure if she isn’t, she’ll lie about it.

For lunch Diane made chicken noodle soup. It was my idea to use spaghetti noodles and it turned out to be way better than Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup. Great stuff.

For dessert I, by myself, made raspberry sorbet. I’ve never done that before. We had all the necessary parts because Diane found a recipe in one of the dozens of magazines she gets each month and bought then. I dug them out, she rediscovered the recipe, and I simply followed the directions. Did you know that making sorbet takes about six hours? I’m sure the sorbet served in restaurants are created using a really big machine, but doing it at home is an exercise in restraint. It was all I could do to not grab a straw and just slurp it all up. I knew that if I did that, however, that Diane would never forgive me, and I would have to let my doctor know so she could just go ahead and write out hat prescription for insulin.

I think that’s about it for the day. All that’s left is to watch the end of the Portland Trailblazer’s game against the Indiana Pacers. As of this moment, Portland is ahead by 6 points.

Sorry, 8 points, with 6:46 to go.

Oh, and it’s snowing again, adding to the existing 11 inches. Supposed to keep it up all night and lots of tomorrow.

Wheee!

OK. So they lost in overtime. Big deal.

One Stud to Another …

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Here’s one putting studs on his car in our driveway …

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It’s been snowing hard and steady for about 8 hours now. It’s running about an inch an hour. Since today was originally considered to be the prelude to three days of bad weather, tomorrow and Saturday should prove to be very interesting. If the power doesn’t go out, I’ll let you know how it’s going.

Sunrises and Reporters

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The sunrise this morning was just like the photo at the top of my blog entries, but without the clouds. It was absolutely pristine. I didn’t take a new picture because I just didn’t feel like looking for my camera. Besides, I have that view stored away in my long-term memory. Locked in that steel trap of a mind. Where it will remain until the end of time, or until my brain turns to dust.

I’ve been thinking about a blog called “Dumb Things Reporters Ask People,” and actually Googled it to see if it’s already been done. Then I reconsidered, thinking it wouldn’t be a good idea to glorify the stupidity many of them demonstrate. I’ve mentioned this before. I think the networks have just one question reporters are required to ask that is dictated by the situation. They try to make it sound like a therapy session by starting each question with “When the _________ happened/ began/started, how did it make you feel?” You can fill the blank with “shooting”, “snow”, “earthquake”, “avalanche”, “accident”, etc. From there, the interview typically goes south quickly.

I can ask stupid questions.

Maybe I should be a reporter.

All in favor, say “aye.”

All against, say “nay.”

Motion failed.

Thank you. I didn’t want to be a reporter anyway.

Doctor Visits, Basketball, & Quilt Shows

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It’s Wednesday, in case anyone’s interested. The past two days have been inordinately long, in my head, so I thought it was later in the week. Then I looked at a calendar. I usually don’t do that because I typically just don’t care what day it is, unless it’s a day I’m scheduled to see my doctor. Or go to the lab to visit my phlebotomist … or the guy who runs the X-ray machine.

That’s what I did on Monday and Tuesday.

Monday I had a regular checkup with my doctor to whom I shared pretty much everything Diane told me to tell her. Normally I’m not very good at that because these appointments sneak up and catch me by surprise, so I go into the office totally unprepared. I don’t know what to say. So, I go out thinking everything is OK. Then I have to make another appointment when Diane finds out that I didn’t do what I was supposed to do. This time I tricked her. I studied a list of things I was supposed to share and got nearly all of them.

First, after my visit with the doctor, she sent me to the lab where I gave up five files of blood, and got an X-ray of my shoulder. I was brave because I watched the phlebotomist slowly insert an incredibly big needle into my arm, then search for an available vein that might willingly give up the required amount of blood. I didn’t flinch. Not once. All five little tubes were filled and I was released to visit the X-ray machine.

Since this lab is located in St. Helens, there was no wait for either event. I got to the Blood Chair before I had a chance to consider the possible complications of getting someone who really, really enjoys sticking needles in people vs. someone who is a bit tentative about it. I’ll take the one who enjoys it every time over he tentative one. Yessir.

As soon as I was released from the Needle Lady I was whisked into the big room for a picture of my shoulder. The entire process took about 3 minutes for both events. Gotta love a small town.

Then I went home.

Shortly after arriving, through the magic of technology, the results of all those tests were available for my viewing, in my account, on the Legacy Website. Nifty. Turns out all that blood revealed that the only thing “iffy” was my A1C which was a bit elevated at 6.1. That means, of course, that I’m no longer allowed to snack on candy throughout the day. So, I won’t. I’ll eat cheese, instead. And bacon. Lots of bacon.

Things were going well yesterday until the handy Legacy Web Site alerted me that my doctor realized that I was overdue for my pneumonia shot. Not only overdue, I’ve never had one that I can recall. So, it was back to the clinic so Kimberly, the doctor’s assistance, could give me the shot.

A little sidebar, here, to explain that it’s always a joy to visit the clinic because I get to see Kristin. Since she’s my daughter’s, Jennifer’s, sister-in-law, Kristin is almost a daughter. Always a pleasure, Kristin. I said that because she sometimes reads this when she finds herself without something meaningful to do.

Now, that pneumonia show. Kimberly did a good job and I left to go straighten up the Lion’s newspaper collection boxes, then went home to work on the old truck for a while.

Since the truck is outside, and the weather here is very cold right now, it didn’t take long for my hands to go numb, even though I was wearing gloves. I kept working, though, and managed to get the windshield wiper motor reinstalled, connected, and tested. I’m happy to report that it works. On both speeds.

After the motor was running, I went to work to get the new turn signal switch installed but the cold proved to be a bit much so I had to quit. Well, had I put it all together correctly, the first time, I might have finished it. Instead, I did it 3-4 times because I chose to try to remember where all those parts went, and in which order.

As a challenge, while tearing everything apart, I just put all the screws and loose parts into a cardboard box so I would have to dig around for what I thought the next part should be. Finally, had to resort to looking at the book I have that shows the proper order. With pictures. I do well with pictures.

Still, the cold drove me indoors when I started dropping things into the grass around the truck. I lost a couple of them and felt it was time to stop. I figured a couple of losses wouldn’t hurt, but three could potentially make it necessary to find replacements when it came time to stick everything back together. I felt this was especially important since I wasn’t sure if the missing parts are for the steering column, or not.

About the time I got back in the house, the pneumonia shot woke up. My arm hadn’t hurt until then, or at least I didn’t notice it, but when I attempted to take off my dirty work shirt, I was made painfully aware of where Kimberly had stabbed me. My arm started swelling up, and Diane insisted that I would “work it out.”

I tried, I really did, but to get my right arm up into the air required the use of my left arm to raise it. Still, I did it, sniffling the entire time. I asked Diane if her pneumonia shot hurt that bad and she said, “yes, but you never knew, did you?”

That told me a lot. Mainly, it told me to stop whining and deal with it. So, I did, in a manner of speaking. I kept whining, but toned it down a lot so that only I could hear it, most of the time. Those shots hurt. Don’t believe anyone who tells you they don’t.

Today the arm still hurts, but not nearly as bad as yesterday afternoon. It’s useable, which is good, because I committed to go help clean the church this afternoon in preparation for the 34th Annual Bethany Quilt Show which will be this coming Friday and Saturday. It’s got to be cleaned today, however, because tomorrow pretty much anyone who has made a quilt, at some point in their life, will ring it in for display. It’s quite a process to get everything set up.

Every year they have a featured quilter. I don’t know who it is this year, but last year it was a lady named Wynette, whom most of you know. I’ve heard many entertaining stories, from Jack, about the travels involved, all over the United States, to obtain the exact right color and pattern for her beautiful quilts. Having a wife who quilts isn’t for the light-hearted, let me tell you. So far, Diane hasn’t taken up quilting. Instead, she sells Avon. That’s an OK thing because it keeps me in cream that makes me feel pretty.

Oh! I almost forgot. My blood pressure was high when I visited the doc so now I’m on the hook to provide her with a daily log of checks I make. That will be due when I visit her on Valentine’s day. I’m going to put little heart graphics all over the log, and print it out for her. Kind of appropriate, don’t you think?

Yesterday, to end the day, I went to another of Lydia’s basketball games. They lost, 45-33, but it was a really good effort on their part. Lydia knocked down the girl she was guarding, a couple of times, which was awesome. Contact basketball. What fun.

Gotta stop now and see if I can get out of my jammies and into my clothes for the church cleaning evolution. Though she’s sick, again, Diane will also go because, as the WELCA President, she feels totally responsible for the quilt show. She doesn’t take that lightly.

Superbowl XLVIII

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Before I get going, let’s talk about Roman Numerals. They’re pretty to look at, sometimes, but why complicate a simple number like 48? It’s not too difficult to figure out the number until you get to “40”, because “X’s”, “V’s”, and “I’s”‘ are pretty straight forward. Then at 40, they toss an “L” in there to confuse everyone. Forty is “XL” which means 50-10. No, it’s -10+50 because the X comes before the L. Then, when you get to 50, it’s just an L all by itself.

Using that logic, I think 1 thru 10 in Roman Numerals should be something like IXX, VIIIX, VIIX, VIX, VX, IVX, IIIX, IIX, IX, X. That way you get the X in play before you are allowed to use it all alone, just like the L.

I suspect Roman Numerals are used in conjunction with Super Bowl games as a link to gladiators times. They are kind of like warriors, after all. However, I’m pretty sure those playing pro football never considered leaving college early to join the military. Maybe it’s all about timing, or that there is no longer a draft.

The Draft should be resurrected. I mean, how is it fair that the only people getting killed in conflicts are volunteers? I thought we were an equal opportunity country. I think anyone running for any position in politics should be required to have served in the military before being allowed to run. Just a thought.

Yesterday I registered on a new website. After giving all the particulars we got to the security question questions to be used for access. One of the first ones on the list? … “What was the first name of your first boyfriend?”

I was stunned!

I’ve never been in a situation where that question was ever asked of me. I know, it’s 2014 and OK for anyone to have a boyfriend, even me, I suppose, but, I didn’t know what to do. There were lots of other questions I could have chosen, even one asking to know the first name of my first girlfriend, but I was stuck on boyfriend. There were three questions I had to answer, and that was a choice on all three. Getting passed that first question, however, was proving to be difficult.

Ultimately, after a long delay, I entered “Jack”, so I could move along. For the next question I chose girlfriend and entered “Jack”. For the third, I selected pet, and entered “Jack”. I’ve done this before, you see, to check if the program you’re working with is paying attention. Generally, in my experience, they aren’t. You can use the same word, or name, for all of the security questions and register just fine. If you do that, you won’t have to remember a lot of different things. On some web site registrations I’ve been born, and married, in the city of “Jack”. One syllable. Easy to remember. I suggest everyone use “Jack” for all your registrations from now on.

How many times do you think Peyton Manning said Omaha yesterday? I’m guessing it wasn’t as many times as “omygawd”.

Joining us to watch the game were Diane’s Mom, Jean, Jennifer, Lydia, Brianna, Haley, and Jeran. Cedric joined his friends at the Columbia Theater here in town to watch the game on the big screen. The kids’ youth pastor, James, took them and stayed through the first quarter. Then he joined us at our house until half time. He’s a really nice young man and the kids love him. Thankfully, he wasn’t at the house when Diane handed me a bowl of cashews and said, just as everyone quit talking, “here are your nuts.”

She rendered me speechless, not an easy thing to do. Making it worse was that I was the only male in the room of 7 people watching the game so it was pretty evident about whose nuts she was speaking. Worse yet, three of them were barely teenagers. And everyone laughed. I think Jennie started it when she snorted. Had I done something like that I would have been told to knock it off, or that it was inappropriate, something I hear a lot, but no one said anything to Diane. Even her mother laughed.

Now, about that game … #1 offense against the #1 defense, as it should be, and the #1 defense won. A new record was set, in the process, when Seattle scored 12 seconds into the game without ever touching the ball. Well, Peyton didn’t touch it either, so I guess he can’t be blamed. It doesn’t get much better than that, for me.

I actually like Peyton, but I’ve never liked Denver. That comes from years of living in Southern California cheering for the San Diego Chargers. Denver was the enemy during those years, and it’s never really gone away. Silly, I suppose, but that’s just the way it is. For the same reason, I have a Portland Trailblazer T-shirt the has “Beat LA” on it. Any Blazer worth his, or her salt knows that means “beat the Lakers.”

Back to Peyton … though I wasn’t looking for the thrashing Seattle gave Denver, it was gratifying to see they were up to the task. I admit I was a little disappointed when Denver finally scored, then made a 2-point conversion. Was that to prove a point? Like, “See, we can do it!”

In the end, going for that two points allowed watchers to witness virtually every way a team can score in a football game … it was like a clinic …

  • a safety
  • a kick-off return
  • a punt return
  • a pass
  • a run
  • a pick-6
  • a field goal
  • a 2-point conversion

Did I miss any?

For food, Diane made a big pot of taco meat which was used exclusively for DIY nachos. It was, as it always is, very good. I love nachos. Whoever invented those should get a bonus, or something.

We also had nuts, as I mentioned.