Nonsense

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Today I painted some more because the temp got up to 50. Didn’t last long, so I didn’t get much done, but I got a start on the underside of the cover over the upper porch. Got all the corners so now all I have to do, on the next 50 degree day all I have to do is use a roller. I did this, standing on a stool, while all alone because Diane left to go shopping. She asked me what I was going to do while she was gone and I said, “I’m not going to use power tools, and I’m not going on the roof.” Her response was, “good choices.” Then she left to get her Mom, Jean.

I think everyone moved out of Idaho. Don’t hear much from them any more. Steffani speaks up once in a while, and would alert us if things weren’t OK, so I guess the only reason my big brother, Jim, isn’t communicating is because he doesn’t know how. That’s actually true when it comes to computers. He doesn’t know how. Donna said she was going to teach him how to check email, and even send one occasionally, but he has no interest in computers. I guess I can understand why he’s a little hesitant to learn something new. He is, after all, left-handed. I can say stuff like that about him because he’s a long way away and will have forgotten all about this by the next time we are in the same vicinity. I’ll probably forget, too.

Jack? I think he’s working at ACE full-time now. It’s a good thing for us, when we need something, because he’s our very own Handy ACE Man. He was that long before he worked at ACE. He’s the “Go To Guy” for pretty much anything I have a question about. Wynette is the ACE holiday decorator and has been busy sprucing up the stores for the holidays and it looks awesome, like normal. She just has a knack, know what I mean?

Diane’s better, which pleases me immensely. She sent an email to her doctor day before yesterday and was called yesterday to come in for a visit. She learned that she has ‘classic irritable bowel syndrome’, or IBS. I’ve got that, too, but mine hasn’t been diagnosed so, technically, I don’t have it. Diane was told hers could have been caused by a virus. Those things are terrible and cause a lot of problems.

Yesterday Daniel, Cedric, and Jeran went to see “Thor II” in Scappoose. I was invited, but I had one of Jennifer’s headaches and didn’t think I’d be very good company. It would have been fun but, no doubt, I would have eaten way too much popcorn. With butter. Maybe a candy bar, too. Instead, I sat on the couch and willed my head ache away. I would have enjoyed the movie, and visiting with the Boys, though.

Diane signed up for coffee hour at church tomorrow so I helped by cutting up a couple of cantaloupes and a big brick of Tillamook cheddar cheese. I did that while Diane made supper. I made lunch, but her’s was better. I only fried some eggs. She made lasagna with a little help from Stouffer’s. She brought home a baguette, my favorite kind of bread, too. I just love those things.

As I type, sitting on the recliner couch, I have the cat on one side of my extended feet, and the little black dog on the other. That hardly ever happens. Actually, this is the first time it’s happened, ever. So, it’s a little odd. They’ve never argued, so it isn’t a problem. It’s just odd to be bracketed by them. My main concern is the fleas. It’s a well-known fact that cat fleas don’t like dog fleas and they will create a huge commotion if one invades the other’s territory. And, here I am smack in the middle.

Really, I’m not worried about fleas because I’m pretty sure neither of them have any because we bought a monkey who just loves those things and makes sure all the other animals are clean. We discovered that the reason the deer are spending more time in the yard is because the monkey keeps them clean, too. I’m going to teach it how to trim the apple trees. That’s one job I don’t enjoy much. Next time I do it I’m going to do a pretty radical job on them in order to get the limbs high enough so I can drive the mower under them without limbs knocking my hat off.

Since the Ducks played a truly terrible game yesterday, I’ve decided to start watching the Portland Trailblazers who are doing pretty good. At this moment, they’re beating Sacramento by 10 with 1:38 to go. I know, a lot can happen in that short amount of time, which always amazes me, but I’m confident they will win. They beat Sacramento last night in Portland, so they know how. I don’t know if Mike and Kathie are Sacramento Kings fans, or not, but it’s OK if they are. They should be, actually, since they live in the vicinity.

I’m rambling so it’s pretty obvious I don’t have much to write about today so I’m going to quit. If you actually read all the way to this point I can only think you don’t have good sense. I would have quit after the 2nd paragraph. However, getting this far will allow me to reveal to you that we really don’t have a monkey.

But, Ozzie really wants one.

So I’m OCD. Big Deal.

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OK. Say it. The Ducks can’t beat Stanford, but Utah can.

Just wait until next year …

I’ve determined, through a lot of inward looking self diagnosis, that I’m a Count. More appropriately, I’m a Counter. Have been for years, and thought nothing of it. It just seemed to be a normal way of life, and it provided me expedient ways to do certain mundane tasks without really thinking about it. For some reason, once I begin a count, the numbers keep progressing, kind of subliminally, until the end of whatever action caused me to start the count.

For instance, filling a water-glass from our filtered water source, inside the refrigerator. I know how long it takes to fill every size glass we have. Diane likes the big, heavy glasses, which take a count of 10 to reach just below the rim, enough so that I’m not likely to spill any as I transport it to her location, wherever it may be at the moment. My normal size glass only takes a count of 8.

We also have glasses obtained from the purchase of dried chipped beef, which we both love but which is too salty to have very often. Still, we have a number of those and they take to the count of 6.

Grinding coffee, using my settings takes a count of 19.

I equate all those counts to seconds which gives it more meaning to me, for some reason. I guess that would have to do with cadence, not really time, but the association works.

When I worked, and walked the six blocks from the bus stop, then back in the afternoon I knew I had 8 seconds to get across the street once the light changed before they installed the walk lights that count down for you. In Portland, on SW Salmon Street, the lights are set for a vehicle speed of about 15 mph which in no way equates to walking speed. That’s only important if you’re driving. Still, it affects walking speed if you know what you’re doing.

Once the walk like quits blinking “Don’t Walk” at the end of 12 seconds, the traffic light goes yellow for 4 seconds before turning red in your direction, and green on the cross street. So, if you begin immediately when the walk light gives you permission, you have a leisurely 16 seconds to make it across pretty much any of the numbered streets as you walk up, or down, Salmon Street.

What messes that all up, however, is how long it takes you to walk a block. For me it was about 52 seconds. That aside, knowing where the Walk light was in its cycle as I approached a cross street gave me an edge because I can actually get across any of those streets in about 5-6 seconds.

I know all those numbers are true because I counted them every day for a number of years not knowing why. Now I do. I hope that information serves someone else who finds themselves walking up and down Salmon Street.

Now, if you’re ever in my house, and need to go down the basement stairs in the dark, there are 15 stairs. I count them every trip I make. This is useful information if you are carrying a laundry basket, either direction, which I do frequently to help Diane. Before she discovered how many stairs there were, some time ago, she decided to skip the last step and launched into space about 14 inches from the bottom instead of 7. As a result, she pivoted to a near horizontal angle before striking the floor and wound up about 10 feet from the bottom of the stairs and, oddly, on the opposite side of a steel support pole from the stairs. That’s a mystery.

I still trip myself up on the stairs, though. Not because I miscount, but because I’m in a hurry. And, I don’t fall down the stairs, I generally slip on the way up. This is a problem if I’m not carrying anything because I fall further and the landing is considerably harder.

It takes 8 seconds to walk down our hall, and another 4 to make it to my bathroom. At my age, knowing this is very important.

So, the only lesson I can glean from this is that it’s a really good idea to pace yourself.

Always.

Diane, Helping, Lions, Church Ladies, and KC

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Diane’s sick again which means I have to cook, clean, wash, and follow-up on appointments that she made. That sounds bad, I know, but fact is I LOVE to do things to help my bride. My problem is, normally, that I have to pace myself and ensure I don’t jump in and take things away from her that she likes to do. When I see her doing anything I feel it’s my duty to take over and finish it for her without waiting for an OK. I just do it. Because she’s deathly afraid of me, she’s let me do it, over and over, over the years until, in my mind, it’s the right thing to do. But, it upset her every time. Now, however, that I’m much older and frail, she’s asserted her will and has convinced me that it’s OK to wait until she asks for help before I jump in. She has no idea how hard that is for me to do, but I do it.

When she does ask me to help, or do anything, my response is always, “Absolutely.” Go ahead and ask her. I know that’s what she’ll say because I remind her about that once in a while. I never defer unless I’m on the toilet. That doesn’t count, anyway, because asking someone to help you, who is on the toilet, is just wrong in so many ways. Just sayin …

This morning my task was to pick up Diane’s Mom, Jean, and take her to the church where, every Thursday, ladies gather to work on quilts for Lutheran World Relief. My task was to meet with a technician who was supposed to be there at 0900 to check one of the refrigerators. It frosts up inside and drips.

The tech didn’t show up at 0900 so I waited until about 1000 and called the outfit who was sending him. I was told that the appointment wasn’t until 1130. So, I took Jean home, and went home for a bit, myself, to await my next appointment which was at 1100. That one was for helping relocate about a ton of old newspapers from the local distributor to one of our Lions newspaper collection facilities. Bert & Sue were there with their big van, which was good because we knew it was going to rain before we finished. A pickup truck would have been a mess.

After dumping the papers, I went back to the church to meet the tech for the 1130 meeting. First, however, I forgot and went home whereupon Diane pointed out the errors of my ways and I hustled back down the road. I arrived about 1145 and the tech wasn’t there, so I called the office again and was told, “he should be there. I’ll contact him.” Which he apparently did, because the tech, whose name I do not know, because he didn’t introduce himself, arrived shortly thereafter.

I like tagging along with folks who fix things because I always learn something new. Today it was about refrigeration. He checked out the compressor and it was OK. There were no gaps in the door seal. So, there wasn’t a legitimate reason for frost to build up inside the refrigerator like it does. Now, here’s what I learned …

When a refrigerator is on, and it’s empty, the air inside is cooled to the desired temperature based on the position of the control knob. When you open the door, all that cool air is sucked into the room. When the door is closed, the newly added warm room air causes condensation to form on the cool interior surfaces and it freezes.  Since the interior of the fridge is generally around 38 degrees, the frost will turn liquid and flow off into a drain pan at the bottom of the fridge where the spiders live. It’s where they get their water. If the fridge door is opened before all that happens, another layer of frost is added until, eventually, it gets thick enough to drip pretty much all the time.

The solution? Make sure the fridge has lots of stuff in it. This will ensure there is less air to cool down once the door is opened. Another aspect is to ensure everyone in the church who has a desire to open the fridge door only does so when looking for something that should be in there. What’s been happening is that 15-20 people do the ‘look’ thing, see it’s dripping, then turn up the control to make it cooler. Running too cold will also cause frost to form inside.

Now about KC. She got to go home today, and she sent me a photo of her arm. I’ve been reporting, all along, that it was her left arm that got the new elbow, but she sent me a picture of someone’s right arm.

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 I’m convinced it’s someone else’s. Someone else with really nice fingernails.

I’m disappointed that it’s wrapped up because I was really anxious to see where they put the zirc fittings so the new elbow can be lubbed. Maybe when then cast comes off she’ll share that.

Tour Hillsboro For Less Than $400

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How’s the new elbow, KC?

Are your hands getting along, yet, or is it too early to tell?

Diane took me to my dermatologist today to visit the rash on my back. I know, that’s personal but I had to share that since KC hasn’t objected (yet) to my mention of her faulty elbow. Knowing this, now, you may be happy to learn that my dermatologist burned 13 holes in my face and at least that many in my back. She uses a little spray can of liquid nitrogen to burn those holes, and they hurt, in case you don’t know. Thankfully, there isn’t any skin left on my ears so she didn’t have to burn any holes there. Ears hurt the worst.

So, now, I have 20-30 more spots on my body that will never tan. If this keeps going, it’s going to be like freckles in reverse. Sometimes I think they should just dip me in liquid nitrogen, let thaw a bit, then send me home.

I’ll include a photo of the damage as soon as KC comes up with a photo of the guy she got her new elbow from.

After visiting the doc, at 1030, we went to Tom & Linda’s to deliver some Avon stuff, and to visit with Tom for a bit. They only live a few blocks from where the appointment was. Unfortunately, for us, Tom picked that day to have some blood work down so we missed him. We did get to visit with Kyle a bit, however, so all was not lost. Turns out we missed Tom by a whisker as we left and he returned. There will be another day.

IHOP got our attention for breakfast so we stopped and had some. Our morning yogurt was long gone. We both had the Senior 2+2+2 which was very good. Then we headed for Costco.

I think we went to get paper plates, napkins, and little cups for the church. When done, however, it cost us over $300 to exit the store. The large part of that was getting ink for our printers. One of us isn’t too frugal when it comes to printing ‘stuff’. I won’t say which one because I don’t want to get into trouble. Again.

From Costco we went to the Washington County Habitat For Humanity Restore Store, or the WCHFHRS, for short. We were looking for either a window, or a piece of plexiglas to fill the hole left by the storm window that suspiciously fell out of the right side of the living room window when Diane opened it a few years ago. Those things just can hold up to a 15 foot fall to the ground. Thinking it would no longer be needed, I compounded the problem by tossing the frame, into which a new piece of glass could have easily been inserted, into the metal bin at the dump. Smooth, huh?

The reason that’s important now is because of our new chairs, the ones we bought because company was coming over. Remember those? Well, Diane likes them so much that she’s moved from the old recliner couch to one of those chairs, and it’s right next to the window with the missing part. It’s drafty and cold and now needs to be fixed. As long as she was sitting by the wall, it was perfectly OK. I envision a visit to ACE tomorrow to rectify this.

We went from WCHFHRS to one of the many Goodwill stores, Diane’s favorite place to shop, that dot the greater Portland area. The one she chose is located just up the block from a BMW dealership. I sat in the vehicle and read my John Grisham book, “The Racketeer”, for a couple of hours while she cruised the isles. About 1640 I went in the store to cruise a bit myself but discovered that we were due at our next location at 1700, not 1730 as I previously believed. Diane was heading for the check out line so it turns out I showed up just in the nick of time to cart all her treasures to the vehicle. She was pleased.

Rick and Jody were next on the agenda. We had a plan to meet them at BJ’s Brewpub and Pizzararium in Hillsboro where three of us had hamburgers, and one didn’t. This was another visit to deliver Avon products, and to just visit prior to going home.

By the time we arrived, the dogs had been without us for 10 hours. In dog hours that’s about three days. Jennifer, bless her, agreed to visit the dogs this afternoon to assure them they hadn’t been abandoned, but I failed to ask her to turn on a light for them. So, when we got home, they were in a pitch black house, except for all the pretty blue and green lights on the front of all the electronic equipment scattered around the place. So, it’s really not pitch black – its pitch black blue and green.

They were fine and didn’t even get up until I opened the door for them. Normally Ozzie is yapping away as soon as the big garage door starts up, and doesn’t quit until he’s well into the yard, relieving himself. It’s funny to watch him bark and pee at the same time. I’ve tried that and it isn’t easy.

Now we’re home and we missed choir practice tonight. It was the first one, too. As expected, I got into trouble for that because I actually knew about it. Yesterday.

KC Update

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Good news! I was wrong.

KC had her surgery this at 0730 today. The doctors took her phone away from her before surgery because a couple of them wanted something to do while they sedated her. Once awake, they gave it back so she could finish a game she’d been playing. Sadly, one of the operating room staff had finished it for her so now she’ll have to start it again. That wouldn’t have been so bad, but she was almost finished beating it.

Anyway, she came through the surgery just fine. Reports are she gets out of the hospital on Thursday. She didn’t say if it was this week, or even this month … just Thursday. Logic tells me, which it rarely does, that it’s this coming Thursday, the 7th.

I believe the only possible problem is that the selected donor was left-handed, and that’s the elbow KC had replaced. So, there’s going to be a power struggle between KC’s arms since she’s right-handed. That would be fun to watch, don’t you think? I mean, there KC is, trying to write down something when her left hand snatches the pencil from her right hand then get into a slap-fight until she stands up and yells “KNOCK IT OFF!” Then, of course, everyone looks around to see what’s happening and see KC’s hands going at each other.

Even more fun would be watching them fight over the remote controls. Don’t you think?

That’s it. KC is OK.

KC and Others

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Many of you probably don’t know, or maybe you just don’t remember, that KC, the ‘other’ California Kathie, is having surgery tomorrow in San Francisco. Apparently her doctors found a willing donor for the ‘new’ elbow she needs. We will be thinking good thought toward her all day tomorrow, instead of only once a day like normal.

The doctors were going to use titanium for the joint, but the guy on the surgical team, who hooked up the bungee cords used to replace tendons, quit in fit of anger over which color he could use, and moved to Nicaragua. He was also told he had to start wearing underwear in surgery, not just the gown, which ruffled his feathers the wrong way.

So, they paid a visit to the San Francisco VA Hospital and found a willing donor, from WW II, who figured he didn’t have much use for his remaining elbow, and gladly donated it for Kathie’s cause. We’re anxious to find out how things turn out.

Continuing the medical theme, I established contact with my new Primary Care Provider, Dr. Sen, who works for the Legacy Health System here in town. I know, I just went to the doctor a week or so ago to re-establish contact with my former PCP whose front office determined that I was no longer a patient there. Now, I am not. Perhaps the young lady I spoke with at the previous doctor’s office is a prophet and knew I was going to switch.

My appointment was this morning at 8:20 am … gotta stop here and share how redundant that statement is … I mean, “…this morning at 8:20 am” … “morning” and “am” pretty much convey the same meaning. Actually, they convey the exact same meaning. So, I’m going to quit being redundant and use “only” military time in the future. I makes more sense to me. So, let me start over …

My appointment was today at 0820 … see how much cleaner that is? … and I was impressed with the vast size of the waiting room, and that there were three (3), yes, 3 (three) really adorable ladies, sitting behind a counter that didn’t have bullet-proof glass to protect them, waiting to check me in.

On the end sat Kristin, a familiar face. Someone I’ve known since the 90’s,  before she could legally date. Here’s an old photo that I’m absolutely positive that she doesn’t know exists. Find Kristin

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Incidentally, in case you’re wondering, she’s sitting on the lap of one of her first “Love’s”, her brother Daniel, who also happens to be my, and Diane’s, favorite son-in-law. So, that kinda means that Kristin, when it’s all said and done, is also part of our family. She is, after all, Aunt Kristin to our Grand Children Cedric, Lydia, and Jeran.

kids at Pacific Beach

Here they are all grown up, with their older cousin, Logan …

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Diane is better this morning after eating toast so I’ve decided that toast has magical healing properties and I’m looking for some venture capitalists to invest with me to produce it locally and sell in on-line to all those unfortunate millions of folks who don’t have toasters. They have computers, but not toasters. How unfortunate is that? Might be a Hundredaire yet …

I suspect I better stop. Diane is up roaming around the house and I know she’s wearing herself down. Won’t be long before I’ll have to stuff her back under the heating pad and start making more toast.

Hope all is well with everyone.

Caulking and Other Stuff

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Not much happened today except for the caulking I did around the porch beams. Now all I have to do is hope for a 50+ degree day so I can paint it. Anything lower and the paint is too thick to spread.

Got a call from the VA hospital today to ask me if I was going to use the dermatology referral. I explained that I had but was thinking about making a new appointment to have my terminal back rash investigated a little more fully. The guy I was talking with told me he could set up a 3-way with my dermatologist, if I wished. After a fairly long pause, I explained to him where my head went when he suggested a three-way causing him to clarify he meant call them so I could make the appointment. I knew that, of course, but he didn’t know that I knew so he was suitably embarrassed.

Got my meds Saturday and now I’m almost normal again. Almost. I’m not dizzy like I was and I’m probably OK to go on the roof. I don’t need to, but I could if I wanted to. That, or just extend the ladder all the way to 24′ and time myself.

I’d ask Diane to time me, but she’s pretty sick right now. I cooked lunch for her and fear I gave her food poisoning. She’s pretty miserable. All I cooked were eggs … over hard for her, easy for me. We each had two of them … her with an English Muffin, me with a toasted bagel with cream cheese. For dinner, even though she wasn’t feeling well, we ate a frozen Freshetta pizza. They’re square and not too bad if you add extra pepperoni, which I did. I don’t think Diane got a lot of nourishment out of it.

As an older brother said, quite often, actually, “This too, shall pass.”

It will be better tomorrow. If not, I get to force her to go to the doctor.

 

Church, Pigs, and Heritage

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I didn’t do anything today except go to church. It surprised a lot of people. It’s good we went because Pastor’s birthday was November 1st, All Saints Day, so we got cake. We were actually late for the service because we stopped at Safeway on the way and got the cake. It had raspberry jam in the middle. Very good.

After church, we brought Diane’s Mom, Jean, home with us, just like a normal Sunday. It’s a good day to spend with family. Diane whipped up a terrific lunch of broccoli, carrots (for her), mashed potatoes, applesauce, and pieces of dead pig. We have no idea how long the pig has been dead because the pieces were frozen together so well that she had to use our portable jaws of life to pry them apart so she could fry them. They did, I will add, look a lot like pork chops. Tasted like them, too.

Diane also baked a terrific cherry crunch pie, our favorite from Marie Callender’s. It’s frozen, like the pig parts, and will last pretty much forever. We don’t have them often, but as soon as it’s baked, she buys another one just to have it ready for the next time we decide to have one. Marie also makes a pretty good lemon meringue.

I’m curious about that last word, meringue. I honestly don’t know how something spelled like that can be pronounced like mə-rang, or meˈʁɛ̃ɡ, depending on your nationality. I guess that falls in the category with why me, and most people I know, call Washington Worshington. In know, it’s a pretty minor difference, but I’ve discovered that some Worshingtonians take exception to my pronunciation of their favorite state. Funny how things like that come creeping out of the woodwork, like all the sudden naming conventions for some sports teams are totally unacceptable.

Take the Worshington Redskins, for example. Since that’s a double whammy from me, I wonder if it is, in fact, technically correct, kinda like a double negative. You know, like saying, “I ain’t no idiot!” or, more grammatically correct, “I am not no idiot!”

In my humble opinion, I think the ACLU need for everyone to be politically correct in all things is getting out of hand. The Redskins? Really? I heard one Native American on the news say that referring to her as a Redskin was the same as using the “N” word for an African-American. All my life the Redskins were a football team. I don’t believe I actually connected the name to ‘real’ Native Americans until someone complained about it.

Here’s another one that kinda frosts me … African-American. Native American, I get. They were here first, I think, and Columbus thought he’d landed in India. So, those he me when he got off the boat really aren’t Indians. If he had known where he was, he would have called them New Worldians. But African-Americans, to me, is an odd naming convention. If we are going to begin adding our nationality to what we are as Americans, I must be a European American. That’s because I only know what half my heritage is. There could possibly be some African in there somewhere that would make me, say, an Afro-Euro American. Then there’s gotta be Canadian-American, South American-American, Russian-American, Australian-American, Japanese-American, Chinese-American, and oh ya, Indian-American. Love that last one.

Actually, using the African-American naming convention, all of us have only one of seven choices for picking our nationality, based on where we were born.

  • Africans
  • Antarcticans
  • Asians
  • Australians
  • Europeans
  • North Americans
  • South Americans

If you find it necessary to qualify your continent, based on heritage, then I guess I’m a European-North American. But, most forms ask us about Nationality, not Heritage.

I’m getting used the name changes, slowly, and honestly do not have a problem with most of the hoopla surrounding it. It just seems, to me, that too much effort is being devoted to making it all a big deal. I’ve, personally, got more important things to worry about. If you’re offended, I’m sorry, and you have permission to call me absolutely anything you want. If you do that, don’t expect a reaction from me if your intent is to offend me, it’s a wasted effort. I’m a honky, whitey, haole, whatever. It’s not going to affect me or how I act. Honest. I’ll still do dumb things and might even reinforce whatever pet name with which you wish to anoint me.

Wow! I have no idea where that soap box came from?

OK – I understand why people, all of them, have a tribal need, if you will, to identify with their heritage. That’s fine. I think I’ll start putting down Oregonian-North American on forms that ask for race. One of my brothers is Nebraskan-North American, and another is Wyomingan-North American. I’m the only one in my family who married a woman of the same race as me. Diane is also an Oregonian-North American.

This is just getting stupid and I cannot find a safe way to extract myself from this topic other than to just quit. I regret going down that rabbit hole, and mean no offense to rabbits by using that term.

And, I apologize to all the pigs, cows, chickens, and turkeys of the world because at some point in my life I will consume some of you and/or your offspring. I really don’t think you care about it, but there it is.

I must quit.

Hunting Season

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The local deer found out it’s hunting season so they’ve taken up residence in our back yard. Our dogs, who bark at pretty much everything that acts like it’s going to move, went to the back yard and didn’t even know the deer were there.

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This is the doe and her fawns that grew up two lots west of us. They usually visit, but don’t hang out, so this is proof that they know hunters are out and about.