4-0 and 3-3

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Just a quick note to let everyone know that I didn’t make any mistakes today. As a matter of fact, Diane even admitted, out loud, that I made a record 4 correct decisions while within range of her senses. Those are the only ones that count. If she doesn’t see it, hear it, smell it, or taste it, it doesn’t count, even if I’m right.

That’s a rule.

I’m really about 17-2 for the day, unofficially, but 4-0, officially, is good. Right?

The activity for today was to finish sanding the entry hall door moulding, which is in the basement on my work bench. Well, it’s not really on my work bench because that’s covered with all kinds of ‘stuff’ that used to be hanging on the pegboard behind the bench. What I actually have, is a pair of nice saw horses on which I placed some wide boards, that used to be shelves in the house next door. I put the moulding on those boards and applied a coat of liquid plastic. Tomorrow I will reinstall them on the door openings. Then I must work on the baseboards. I’m on the clock because we’re expecting visitors next week and I’ve been told that if the woodwork isn’t completed before they show up, I have to move out. If it comes to that, there’s an off-chance I will be allowed to stay in one of the Winnebagos. Hopefully its the one that works.

There is a brewing football dynasty at St. Helens High School. The varsity team isn’t doing so well, but the Freshman team is unbeaten. Not just this year, but for the past 6 years, when most of them started playing together in the third grade. I can’t find any information about them on the internet, but Jennifer, my beloved daughter who knows all, and has two children who attend her alma mater, told me that Cedric, a sophomore, goes to all the games but gets bored after the first half because the score is usually something like 50-0. I plan to go to their game next week, if it’s home, so I can give an accurate report. Sounds promising.

The varsity soccer team played a tough game this evening. Jennifer said they had 4 over times and ended in a 3-3 tie. I didn’t know soccer had over time. I thought the score was whatever it was at the end of regulation, whether it’s 0-0 or, whatever. Apparently not. So, there’s another aspect of soccer I apparently do not understand. In order to help with this terrible deficiency, that cannot be resolved with creative chemistry, I’ve decided that I’m going to make my own rule book based on what I’ve seen happen at the games we’ve attended. Maybe it will make sense, then. I’ll even share it and perhaps help some of you obtain a more in-depth knowledge of the confusing world of soccer.

Not today, however.

It’s late and I’m tired.

Oh! The cat was out only about half an hour before zooming in the patio door when I opened it. Apparently she didn’t want to spend another night outside. Don’t blame her. There are coyotes, and bigger cats out there.

Wow! I  have to report that I just ran my spell checker and it didn’t find any erors. How about that?

Lady Lions vs. Lady Indians

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That’s what’s written on the shirts Diane and I wear to Lydia’s soccer games. The shirts also have her number on them. It’s # 1. That’s what Diane and wore this afternoon to the latest game. We have to keep watching because we’re right on the verge of figuring out what some of the rules are even though we don’t agree with them.

Before going there, however, I’m happy to report that Lydia’s nose had a miraculous recovery last night. Yesterday, her team mates told her she needed to put ice on it so it wouldn’t look so bad and scare the Scappoose girls today. She must have done something, or else she also has the ‘Amazing Healing Gene’ with which I’ve been blessed because it doesn’t look bad today.

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Instead of recapping the entire game, I’m just going to share a few photos I took with my magnificent camera with my magnificent telephoto lens. I can’t share all of them because the magnificent auto focus mechanism failed to function properly, no doubt, to the inability of the operator to set the various speed and aperture aspects which would elicit optimum photographic evidence of what was transpiring before him. Yes, all of that is true. The fuzzy photos were caused totally by operator error. So, you only get to see those that are at least in semi-focus.

First, what does the football team do while on the way to their locker room after their practice terminates?

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This one is for Sharmel. Her daughter is Laurel, #2 for Scappoose. We’ve known Sharmel for many, many, many years, and Laurel for most of her life. We do not mind that Laurel attend Scappoose High School at all because both Diane and I did, too.

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Next is one of Lydia duking it out with a frisky Scappoose Indian. It almost looks like they’re dancing, doesn’t it? Far from it. I believe right after this photo was taken, Lydia dropped the other girl like an autumn leaf then jumped in her stomach with abandon. That, of course, didn’t happen. Lydia has been known to knock other girls down, but she never jumps in their stomachs.

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While the soccer game was in progress, other members of the human race who have meaning for Lydia were frolicking in the top row of the bleachers. That’s Cedric, Lydia’s big brother, running off with the football that he just liberated from Chris who is sitting to Jacob’s right. They are both Cedric’s friends, all are sophomores, but Chris is more meaningful to Lydia than either of the other two.

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Here’re the Lady Lions taking their victory sprint across the field toward the bleachers after winning 2-0. It was a good game and fun to watch. We sat with Jennifer, Lydia’s Mommy, for the entire game.

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Now, about soccer rules … what’s the deal that the ball can roll right down the out-of-bounds line, but not be out-of-bounds. AND, the players can run out-of-bounds to kick the ball off the line with no fear of penalty. What’ that about? I mean, out-of-bounds is out-of-bounds. I guess when you only have one old guy in a yellow shirt, and jaunty black shorts, running down the middle of the field with a whistle that apparently doesn’t work, the girls can pretty much call the shots. All they have to do is just wait for the old guy to take one of his elongated blink, and they’re safe.

I must share a bit of crowd activity about which I heard after the game that involved a zealous Lady Lion Mom, not Jennifer, and the father of a Lady Scappoose Indian … the Mother was very loud in her vocal admonishment of Lions allowing Indians to push them around without pushing back a little themselves. The Mom confided in us, on the way out, that the Father displayed an inordinate level of assininity. A new word for me which I just love. I’ve never heard that one before and had to share it. I know that a new word because my spell checker didn’t recognize it.

That’s it …

The Injury Gene

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Lydia has it.

When I mentioned Lydia’s game yesterday I failed to mention the ball that she took in the face. It was actually supposed to be a header, to a ball that was falling from about 200 feet, going 115 mph, but something in the wind caused her to misjudge, just a teeny bit and it hit her on the forehead …

… then her glasses …

… which slammed down onto her perky little nose …

… and finally the ground.

She didn’t skip a beat, and kept right on playing, after bending her specs a bit so they stayed on.

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She told her parents that it didn’t even hurt because it went numb right away, so she just shrugged it off and continued playing for the remainder of the game. This morning, however, it’s a little more colorful and she reported that her teeth hurt when she sneezes.

My nose hurts just looking at it. I fear she has a genetic disposition for injuring herself, and things. A couple of days ago she stumbled in their newly refinished bathroom and ripped the towel bar off the wall. So, next Saturday she’s going to learn how to repair sheet rock.

Back to the glasses … Lydia has a pair of sports goggles that would have resulted in a less dramatic injury, but she doesn’t like to wear them because they block her peripheral vision. They  also fog up on rainy days. We’re not sure if the injury is going to change her mind, or not.

This week at school is all about Home Coming, so each day the kids dress up as if they are going to one of their dances … prom, stuff like that. Cedric didn’t do it last year, but is this year because Lydia is. Jennifer said Lydia got all dressed up then went to school with no bandage on her face, the mark of true jock.

Gotta leave the skid marks out there for everyone to see.

She’s playing again today, against Scappoose. Should be fun because the more I learn about soccer rules, the less I understand it. So, I’m going to devote one of these entries to how I think soccer should be played.

Painting, Soccer, and Comcast

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This is my 455th entry. It’s amazing because you’d think I’d’ve used up all the words I know by now, wouldn’t you? Another amazing thing is that I have over 100 friends on Facebook. I had no idea that I actually know over 100 people. I even recognize most of their names. How about that?

Today I removed all of the wood trim from the dining room and entry hall, then Diane and I painted the walls. It was such a beautiful day, seriously, that we opened windows, doors, and more windows, to air out the house.

Then we locked the dogs in the house and left to go watch a soccer game at Liberty High School. Lydia’s team lost 5-0 because of some terribly biased calls by the umpires, or referees, or whatever you call them. For instance, whenever a member of each team collided, if they both fell down, he blamed Lydia’s team-mate. If only one fell down, regardless of which team, they blamed it on Lydia’s team-mate who was closest to the mishap. Then, whenever the ball got past the St. Helens goalie, they gave the other team a point. I mean, what’s up with that? How is the St. Helens team supposed to feel good about themselves if they do that all the time. Seems like both sides should get a point, or they should just give the visiting team a couple of points to start with because they had to ride a bus to get there. Fair is fair.

The dogs were very happy when we got home. Just like always.

Some things just never change.

That’s a good thing.

Now I’m going to watch TV with my first wife because our current DVR is full of shows we have to watch before Thursday when a friendly Comcast employee will be here between 10-12 to install the X1 system. I have no idea what that is, but it involves a new kind of DVR that allows the user to record 4 shows at once while watching a 5th show. With this device we are assured of never getting anything done around the house, ever again.

I need to rest up for this.

Attacked! Again!

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Hey!

Guess what!

Diane forced me to mow the yard again today, since it was incredibly beautiful, so I did.

I stayed out there mowing until the pain got really bad.

The good news is, I got my ‘pouty lip’.

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I guess I don’t have to tell you that I found the yellow jacket nest again. This time, however, I had my can of spray and was able to take out a bunch of them, but one little kamikaze got through and nailed me on the chin. To honor his bravery, I just brushed him off and he flew away.

My vision seems to be going away so I’m going to quit while I can still see the Send button.

Church, Lunch, and a Movie

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Today we went to church, had a so-so lunch, and went to a movie. The dogs weren’t happy that we were gone for so long, but they forgave us anyway – maybe because it’s Sunday, but more probably because dogs forgive everyone almost immediately once you pet them and let them go outside. It’s just the way they are. Too bad people aren’t that way, too, don’t you think?

This morning Diane, Diane’s Mom, Jean, and I were forced to sit in the front row at church because Larry and Shirley sat in our seats. It was so … so … un-Lutheran of them. I mean, they usually either sit behind us, or a couple of rows back. This morning, however, they arrived before us and decided to move into our space. The nerve of them. Both Larry and Shirley were ahead of us in High School so I guess they were just exerting their superior position, although they’ve never done so in the past. Perhaps they were punishing us for being a little bit late. That could be it, too. So, we moved to the front, where Mabel, Nancy, Kim, Kevin, and Lisa usually sit, but they weren’t there today, so it was OK.

While listening to the sermon I got to thinking, something I don’t usually do in church. Usually, I just listen to the sermon, try to figure out how the ‘Message’ pertains to me, or how I can make myself a better person by making it pertain to me. Then, there’s the music. Old hymns that have historical meaning, written by people hundreds of years ago, that actually tell a story. Our pastor, Rory, is a wealth of knowledge regarding hymns, and regularly gives us background on the person who wrote a hymn he’s about to help us sing. Without failure, the story is compelling and filled with vivid evidence of spirituality, and the author’s un-questioning belief in God, even in the face of incredible adversity. True believers, all. They humble us.

After church I talked with Pastor and we both be-moaned the current lack of attendance by the most current generations at our tiny little church. He was saddened that he couldn’t generate more interest in spreading the Word of God to the countless scads of reportedly “un-churched” people, while I was more along the line that we could generate more interest and subsequently reap the benefit of increased offerings, allowing us to pay our bills without fear. Two different takes on a common problem.

Pastor’s ‘take’ was far more pastoral than mine, as one would expect. I did, however, have this thought about why we don’t see the younger crowd.

It’s about the music. We have the old classic hymns, we don’t have a band, and we don’t have microphones hanging from the rafters, or standing at rigid intervals across the stage. No, we have a pianist (Barb), an organist (Jeannie), and a raised area where we kneel around he altar for communion, every other Sunday, with wine and bread. The other Sunday’s we have communion by intinction, where we receive wafers which we dip into the wine as we file past Pastor. It’s fairly traditional.

We’ve been to the New Age services over the years and heard the powerful messages given by very charismatic speakers accompanied by their bands, and band of singers. The music is pleasant, but has never really struck a chord with either Diane or me. Now religious groups are growing exponentially, and it’s moved into the rap realm, something I’ve just never enjoyed. Rap, that is. I can appreciate the effort, and the      subject matter of their music, but I just don’t get “reference” from it.

That could be simply because I do not understand what they’re saying almost 100% of the time. The frequencies are all wrong for me, and the tempo, and the volume. I’m more attuned to the old stuff. Things I know.

So, I know, that makes me old fashion to the Nth degree, and that’s OK. I get it. Things change and, dare I say, evolve over time. So it goes with music and lots of other stuff including the style of churches, and their services.

I apologize if any of that upset any of you. It’s a free world, after all, mostly, so you are free to syntactically retaliate to your heart’s desire.

That’s not a dare, by the way.

It’s just a fact.

So, fire at will …

About lunch – we went to Zhen’s on Columbia Blvd here in town. For the three of us, we got a #3 and a #4, which was about six times as much food as we really needed. So, we packed up a bunch of it which will be enough for two more meals each.

Then we went to the Columbia Theater to watch “Turbo”. It’s the first movie Jean’s been to in a few years, so it was special for her. More special was that it was free, and, since we had just eaten lunch, we didn’t feel compelled to eat a mess of popcorn. That’s usually what I do in the theater and I always regret it. But I always do it, until today. It was good to just sit there and not be distracted by all that crunching noise, and greasy fingers that I always tell myself to NOT wipe on my pants but somehow always do because I forget. Without the popcorn I got to see the entire movie, without interruption.

We went with Jennie, Jeran, Cedric, Lydia, and Chris, Lydia’s friend. Actually, we went because of them. The Columbia Theater has a special deal where parents can buy kid’s tickets for 8 consecutive matinée movies for $8, which is an incredible deal. Additionally, each kid can bring an adult, so all us of us old folks got in for free. Pretty nifty, huh?

Another plus, since we were some of the last people to enter the theater, is that we got to sit almost right up front, very close to the seats Debbie Reynolds sat in when she was in town filming “Halloween Town”, many years ago. Maybe that should be many, many, years ago.

As I stated early on, the dogs were really happy to see us after our six-hour absence. I’m sure they thought we had gone to Mexico again, and were surprised when we returned so soon. Since our return, we’ve not done much but sit and vegetate, watching some of the shows that were recorded while we were gone. We’ll catch up, soon, then we’re going to turn in our old DVR, that can only record two shows at a time, and get the one that records 4 shows at a time, while you watch a 5th. That’s going to be something. We both think it’s very important that consumers should be able to records about six times as many TV shows than we can possibly watch unless we stay glued to our TV all the time. Kind of like we do now, but more so.

Ya know?

Gilligan

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When you see that name, I bet the first thing that comes to mind is “Gilligan’s Island”. Six years ago, I would have thought the same thing. Now my first thought is about Gilligan, our Granddaughter who just turned six years old on the 5th. Since we were in Mexico at the time, we deferred our celebration of her special day until this afternoon.

This is her when she turned 5, but she still looks exactly the same.

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Gilligan has always been a little drama queen and her parents have taught her many things that most kids her age don’t know … like the bones in her body. She pretty much has them nailed. She has all of her emotions down pat, too. Just name one, and she’ll gladly display it quite convincingly. Needless to say, she’s adorable, and a ton of fun.

She’s a budding model who just needs an agent …

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We were at Fred Meyer shopping and while transiting through the fruit bins, I told her to drop and give me 10 … so she did. I actually didn’t expect it, so was quite surprised.

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I was surprised too, later, that some angry mom didn’t call the cops on me for child abuse. Gilligan didn’t mind, and she could just as easily told me no, but she didn’t because she loves me. And I love her.

Family and Food

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Today we took another trip to Portland. That makes 4 times this week that we had to go to the Greater Portland Area, or GPA, if you will.

Today we went to Nonna Emilia’s Italian restaurant on Shaw Street in Aloha. For those of you with Hawaii on your mind, this Aloha is pronounced a-low-ah. So, it should be spelled Aloah, don’t you think?

The purpose of the visit was to see Julie, Duncan, and Jake during a lull in their whirlwind visit to see all of the colleges in the greater Pacific Northwest to see which one is right for Jake. He’s a senior this year, in Phoenix, AZ. AZ is an abbreviation for Arizona, in case you needed to know that.

About the abbreviations for states. I disagree with their methods used by whoever it was that determined what they should be. The choices aren’t consistent with the names. Like AZ, for instance. I think all the abbreviations should just be the first and next to last letters of the name. That would make Arizona AN, Alaska AK, Arkansas AA, Alabama AM, Oregon OO, California CI, Washington WO, etc., ad infinitum, forever. States with two names, like North Dakota will different, like NDT, and SDT, North Carolina NCN, and SCN. Florida would be FI, Tennessee TE, Connecticut CU. Get it? It’s consistent.

 Just a thought.

Here’s the group that met up today …

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Left to right it’s, Jean, Terri, Jennifer, Jeran, Diane, Daniel, Bill, Carolyn, Julie, Jerrie, Jake, Duncan, Lydia, Jean.

Didn’t think about it at the time, but we have Jean’s holding us together.

Did I mention the food was good? I sat next to Jake who had dead chicken Marsala, which came with a side of spaghetti that he didn’t want. I offered him $1.50 for it, he accepted, and I ate it. It worked out great because I had spaghetti for my main meal and my plate was already covered with sauce so the waitress didn’t know I had seconds. Jake’s side dish was just about as big as my main dish, so I ate twice. I will not be hungry for a couple of days, now. And, I owe Jake a buck and a half, unless Diane paid him, because I didn’t. My wallet was empty, as it has been for the past two weeks. Diane doesn’t let me carry money because I tend to spend it and don’t remember what I bought.

 

I’m A Weeble? Really?

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This morning Diane called me a Weeble when she warned the dog to look out because I was wobbling around a bit in order to position myself to give Panzee a belly rub with my foot. Yes, I wobble, which is not a surprise to many people, just to those who fleetingly viewed me as a solid, stand up citizen. No, I’m not one of those. I’m a citizen, true, and I stand up for our flag, but I’m far from solid.

I sway in a gentle breeze, turning to the left, mostly, but also to the right, if the wind is right, causing Diane less and less concern as she gets used to my new abilities related to vertical acuity, and not embarrassing her by falling in public. I’ve only done that once, but cannot remember the occasion because it was insignificant. A mere blip on my radar that went mostly unnoticed be everyone except the girl who screamed.

Calling me a Weeble makes me wonder if there is more to the name than a quick look could ascertain. Everyone knows what a Weeble is, right? You know, “Weebles Wobble But They Don’t Fall Down”? Remember that? Everyone had to have them because they were so cute, and they couldn’t be knocked over.

However, after being compared to one this morning, the name has been circling in my head wondering if there is an underlying meaning to her comparison. Just a moment ago I realized that she’s making a reference to my less than adequate sized testicles. What she’s really saying is wee balls. That’s got to be it. I’ll confront her in a couple of weeks about her underhanded name calling, if I remember. Or, perhaps within a few moments of her reading this, as I know she will.

In my youth, I was able to walk straight down that thin, well-defined line of decorum, never causing anyone on either side grief, or dismay about what I said or did. With Diane’s back-handed reference comparing me to a Weeble one might think, on the surface, that she’s concerned about me straddling the line, more than walking it, due to the increasing wobble in my gait as age overtakes me, and my brain isn’t quick enough to interpret my balance correctly causing it to over correct. It’s like the cruise control in Diane’s Buick that works just fine until a hill appears, then the vehicle slows down from 55 to 50, then shifts and speeds up to 60+ before settling back down to 55 just before the hill is crested. Doing that causes problems for everyone on both sides of the line defined specifically for me, for my passage through this life.

No, it’s not about that at all. It’s all about the size of one’s testicles. I’m sure.

That’s all I got for now. Later we’re going to Portland to have lunch with some southern relatives, Diane’s side, from Arizona – Julie, Duncan, and Jake. We’ll also get to see Bill, Carolyn, Terri, and Lisa. We’re eating Italian at Nona Whats-its-place in Beaverton.

Now I’m going to stop, get a mirror, and contemplate my Weebles.

My Skin, and Politics

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Apparently I’m not going to die from the bee stings after all. I guess the bees that got me had depleted venom supplies, except for the one that viciously attacked my hand. He had a full load and injected  every bit of it. The ones who stabbed me in the neck were less problematic. They just left bumps that don’t itch, and only hurt, a lot, when they attempted to inject.

The dermatologist I saw today came in armed with her freeze gun and happily froze whatever I wanted frozen, in the way of annoying spots. The first thing she did, however was check my entire body for spots she considered to be a potential problem. As I recall, she nailed at least six of them. One was on my lip so, despite the bee’s unwillingness to sting me on the face, I wound up with a pouty lip after all. Nice.

I didn’t mention that last night I slept for about nine hours, straight, which is a modern-day record for me. The dogs didn’t even wake me up this morning. I guess Benadryl and ambien work pretty well together. I’m sure that’s why. It’s all about better living through chemistry.

After the dermatology event, we went to the Restore Store. I know Diane had something in mind when we went, and she even told me, but all I know is we came out with two chairs for our new dining room table. We needed those because the 8 we had with the other table went away with the table, as you may recall. We actually found a couple that look OK at the table. Now we have 4 chairs at the table.

Oh, and I got a huge light bulb for the huge socket I have in the basement. It’s 175 watts so should cast a really good shadow behind whatever it shines on. I may even go blind from staring at it. I think it says that on the box.

Once home, we ate lunch – I had the remainder of yesterday’s steak and Diane had a grilled cheese sandwich. Then watched TV the rest of the afternoon.

That’s pretty much the day, except for the part about Diane making a lot of noise when she breathes. I knew she was having trouble because she wasn’t fast forwarding through the commercials. She was sleeping, instead. The rattle was getting worse, so I hooked up her nebulizer and forced her to inhale deeply.

I didn’t force her to do anything. I just hooked it up and she did what needed to be done. She will be fine in the morning.

So – how is the government shutdown affecting you? I don’t recall voting for that, or telling my congressman or senator that I thought it would be a good idea for them to fiddle with my life in this manner. They didn’t eve ask me. For that, I’m upset.

If only they would have come to me …

I think we should just do away with everyone in Washington D.C. … fire them all. Then, divide the USA into three parts based on time zones and name them something catchy, like USA-1, 2, 3, 4, reading left to right on pretty much any time zone map. By default, Alaska, Hawaii and Guam would become part of USA-1. Puerto Rico would be part of USA-4. There would be no more DST changes to clocks. Everyone would just keep using the same time for their zone all the time, like Arizona and Hawaii do now. Each zone would select two people to cover the entire zone for taxes and expenditures. No spending would be allowed unless cleared through me because I would be the king.

I think it’s time to wrap this up. Perhaps I’ll come up with a more creative way to resolve the government’s problem while I sleep.