Quantum Stuff, Cedric, ACE, and Little League

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I was going to rant today, but forgot what I was going to rant about.

Oh, ya … it’s about our illustrious Senators and Congressmen who vote on some pretty important bills without reading what they are all about. One was Obamacare, and most recently it’s about amnesty. The bills have different names, but it’s still all about politics vs. the people. My opinion, of course. Many of our elected officials are absolutely wonderful. It’s just too bad they are out numbered by all those other folks.

Diane fed me chicken again for dinner. It was awesome.

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I have two things to address today – one is about quantum theory. I know, we’ve talked about this at length in the past, but we still haven’t come to an agreement on what we should believe or not believe. Maybe we really do live in the matrix and everything we perceive as reality is simply created in our minds. We do not, as I’m sure you already know, use all of our brain so I postulate that the part of our brain we don’t appear to use is the part that creates our reality about all the nifty things we do in life.

This topic popped up yesterday for me when I was looking for a new book to read. I just finished my last Harlequin Romance novel and decided to broaden my range a little. So, on iBooks, I just searched for “quantum”. Do you have any idea how many books there are with ‘quantum’ in the title? It’s amazing! Some of them are reasonably priced at $2.99, or less, but some authors are charging up to $200.00 for their blessed books that are, I suspect, full of their theories. I’m pretty sure those high-priced books are text books written by the author, and required for his class. Old versions are unacceptable for new students because he revises it every year with a new theory, or two, or simply to correct the spelling of a few words. If new students don’t get the new book, they don’t pass the course. Nifty business.

Well, I have theories, too. I have theories about lots of stuff.  Just ask Diane. I’ve shared some of them with some of you, too. Sadly, I don’t remember them until I’m involved in conversation, say, about napkins. It’s my theory that with a bit of adjustment to our digestive tract, and use of proper material, if we had napkins made of that material, and swallowed it after every meal, we would not need toilet paper because the napkin would be the last thing out, cleaning things up as it exits. Just a theory. Might not even need to modify the digestive tract at all. Maybe a good linen will work. I’m still waiting for ‘that’ first person to give this a shot and let me know how it works out. Or, ‘if’ it works out by itself or requires surgery.

Regarding quantum ‘anything’ … I’m thinking about quantum Haiku based on the popular 5-7-5 syllabic symbolical construction devised by someone in Japan in another dimension. How it got here, we still don’t know. But, it’s here, and here’s what it looks like.

I’m not, you’re not, we are one : some say that we don’t exist : well, son of a gun

It doesn’t have to make any sense as long as the syllables run 5-7-5. I suppose it would be more interesting if it made sense, told a little story, but that would add another degree of difficulty that I’m not always willing to accept. For you, however, I’ll do it. Here it goes …

Blogs are fun, you know

You can blog your head right off

And ignore comments

Suggesting you stop

Blogging about some dumb stuff

No one cares about

That’s just off the top … funny how things work out when you write haiku. Maybe I’m doing it wrong.

As you know, Cedric stayed with us last night. He’s really difficult to have around because he’s almost as big as me and I can’t boss him around any more like I used to. He’s on to all my lies, too, and just feeds them back to me. I only had one suggestion for him – to take a course in school that might help him increase the speed of his speech. Right now he’s on the borderline between fast and really fast. With a little practice he’ll be able to talk so fast I won’t understand a thing he says. As it is, I only miss about every fifth word so I’m able to grasp his meaning. Kinda. He left around eleventy this morning with Daniel. They went to Oaks Park for the afternoon. Every once ina while INTEL rents the entire park and just turns employees loose in there. What fun. They also have been known to rent out an entire theater, in Forest Grove, for the employees to watch movie premiers. I got to go to one of those, once.

I installed the new water pump in the RV today but it caused me, and Jack, a great deal of consternation trying to decide how in the heck we were going to get it connected. Somewhere, in the land of water pumps, a decision was apparently made to change the size of all fittings to ensure those installed in older RVs WILL NOT fit new pumps. That was the problem. One alternative, I suppose, is to just replace “all” the pipes in the RV but that’s a lot of work.

The input side was simple. It could be fixed with the purchase of a hose increaser niblet allowing me to fit the smaller hose, that’s already in the RV, to the larger niblet required on the pump. The output side, to the faucets, and toilet, was an entirely different matter. I had a six-inch piece of tubing, flared to seal inside the attached female 1/2″ fittings on either end. One side goes to the RV plumbing, the other to the pump. Though it was a 1/2″ female fitting, and the pump output was 1/2″, they just did not fit together. That when Jack gave me a lesson on the different types of threads used – there are pipe threads,  plastic threads, PVC threads, and other kinds of threads. It didn’t matter that they are the same size, they just don’t always fit together.

I stood staring, literally, at bags and bins of PEX, Shark, and some undisclosed type fittings, for one and a half hours trying to figure out what combination might work. Thankfully, Jack was working at ACE today and came to my rescue, more than once. He would stop every once in a while to help a real customer saying to me, “I’ll be right back, Sir.” Yes, he actually called me “Sir”. It was kinda nice. He was respectful, too, an unexpected treat.

He always returned, and finally helped me solve the dilemma with two brass fittings that fit together, and into the female side of my supply line, providing a niblet on the end to which I could attach a hose. The pump had replaceable fittings allowing me to use niblets for in and out supply lines so we were good to go.

One and a half hours! Diane was about to start calling around to find me because I had been gone for so long. She said I set a record for “Length of stay at ACE,” which made me kind of proud. It’s not often that I set records. I got popcorn, too. The up side of all that is that I stayed the course, not buying something I ‘thought’ might work, buying it, going home, finding out it didn’t work, then going back to ACE to do it again. There have been some days that I’ve made up to seven trips to ACE to accomplish a simple task. Today I did it in one. A really long one.

What an ordeal.

While I was working on the pump, with the correct parts, I had the RV TV fired up on and watched the LLWS for a while. It was California vs. Connecticut in the regionals. California won something like 12-1. It was quite a game. Now California will play Japan for the title tomorrow. LLWS means Little League World Series, in case you’re interested. These kids are 12 years old, but it’s hard to tell they way they play. They’re pretty good, and fun to watch.

Maybe tomorrow will be more interesting. Right this moment it’s just a mystery to me because I have no idea what we’re going to do. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Water Pump, Tile, Friends, Dead Chicken & Shrimp

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Last night it was determined that the ‘3 Jerry’s Group’ would meet for lunch at the giant all you can eat buffet at 2 pm today. The group name originated a long time ago because there were 3 of us named Jerry, in one form or another, who belonged to the TVCC (Tualatin Valley Cruiser Club). As you may suspect, we all have PT Cruisers. When the club was established there were very few members so it was interesting that three of us were called Jerry. We had numbers, too, according to age. I’m #2 because I’m not the oldest, and I’m not the youngest. I’m just the middle man.

Anyway, as things progressed with the car club we formed alliances, leaning toward those with whom we related the most and it kinda stuck. Diane and I have not done anything with the TVCC for a long time, but the friendships we made because of that car are set in stone, creating an entire new family and support system for all of us. It’s just great.

Not all were able to make it today, notably Vie and Coleen. That’s understandable since it was a last-minute decision to meet up. I’ve told you Tom’s story, and it was mainly for him that we just had to do it because it was like we were given a second chance to do this. When he went on life support on Diane’s Mom’s birthday. That was the 8th. He had called me a number of times, always asking how Diane was, because of her shingles, and always ending with a suggestion that we needed to gather up the group and eat something. For one reason or another, that never happened, then Tom almost bit the dust. It was a wake up call, for sure. So, clearer heads prevailed and made the arrangements. I think we’re good for the next month or so.

With that plan in place, I had a 1 pm deadline to be home, and clean, for the trip to Beaverton for lunch at 2 pm. That gave me about 3 hours to work with Daniel on The Bathroom. First order of business was to tack on a few extra pieces of cement board. Then we taped and sealed the joints, and got busy putting tile on the back wall. It was a sticky mess, but we kept it as clean as we could, all things considered.

We managed to set the center line dead on. I was actually pretty amazed we hit it as close as we did. It  was a happy amazing as it was a team effort with me slapping on thinset and Daniel slapping on the tiles. Tiles was Daniel’s job so if any of the grout lines are noticeably off, it’s his fault. That’s the way I work.

When we got up to the fifth row, or so, it was time for me to leave and get cleaned up for the trip to Beaverton. We were almost done with the gallon of pre-mixed thinset so I left Daniel to use it up and call it a day. We only had a couple of rows to go before beginning a pattern with colored tiles, so it was good timing. I walked away with a clear mind that Daniel wouldn’t have any trouble finishing up.

Getting ahead of myself a little, we stopped by to see the progress on our way home from lunch and learned from Jennifer that we hadn’t kept track of the thinset that fell off the trowel, and the wall, missing the sheet laying in the bottom of the tub and landing on the new tub. I wiped up almost every bit of what I spilled so it must have been Daniel that caused the mess. Honest. Anyway, Jennifer said it took her 3 hours to clean it up. When we got there, it looked really nice so I don’t know what all the fuss is about. Usually, with tile, I wind up doing it and cleaning it all up afterwards. It was kind of refreshing to not have to do that. So, Thank You Jennifer. And, thanks, Daniel for sticking with me and learning another skill set.

After deserting Daniel, I headed right home, as directed, to take a shower and get ready. I even shaved, removing only a little bit of skin that I no longer needed. It hardly hurt at all. I was ready ahead of time, but we still didn’t leave until after 1 pm … and … we stopped to pick up Diane’s Mom, Jean, because she went with us. That meant I had to sit in the back seat, again. That’s actually OK, because it’s comfy back there and I only have to say “Uh huh” once in a while to make the women think I’m listening. Sometimes I’ll say “no” just for fun, and add some totally unrelated detail, but they never catch on. Until now, that is.

The trip was uneventful and I apparently successfully answered all questions aimed at the back seat as the car did not stop in order to administer punishment. Not that I recall, anyway.

When we arrived, about 10 minutes late, I was gratified to learn that we were not the last to arrive. Jerry1 was still looking for Old Town Buffet. Tom was giving him instructions, but it wasn’t working out well.

Already there were Tom, Linda, Rick, Jodi, Jerry3, and Nelda. Rick just happened to be on vacation this week so he and Jodi were able to join us, which was special. Jerry1 showed up shortly thereafter and we all limped, in our own special ways, into the facility. Jerry3 was fresh from his acupuncture treatment for sciatica pain, Tom was on two canes from his near death experience, Nelda had her trusty crutch. Nelda has always had a crutch and it’s odd that I mentioned that because I actually never notice it when I see her. It’s just … there … and invisible.

It was a good time to arrive because most of the lunch crowd had gone, but lunch prices were still in play, and drinks were included. A bonus.

Those at the front, the ones with the canes, chose the table closest to the food tables which worked well for me. Usually when we go there, Diane leads me to the back of the room, putting me in a position for failure, walking all that way with a plate full of food. I’ve been pretty successful the last few visits, but it’s just a matter of time. Today we were close enough to toss food on the table. I didn’t do that, of course, but it crossed my mind.

Sadly, there were no shrimp, something I was looking forward to, this being Friday and all. All they had was lots of fried chicken, and a lot of other stuff that I like, so I ate a complete chicken dinner, for lunch. It included two legs, potatoes, gravy, corn, and a buttered bun. It was so good I did it twice. Then I had a soup bowl full of frozen vanilla yogurt smothered in hot chocolate fudge. I always use soup bowls because they’re bigger than those tiny little bowls they put by the ice cream dispenser.

The sunday was so good, I did it again, too.

Then we talked, moving around the table, swapping ends, making sure we had a chance to talk with everyone there. I always catch grief for my behavior which I don’t understand because I really try to be good. Honest. My mouth just, sometimes, gets away from me and spins out of control, spewing things I wouldn’t normally say in a zillion years if I had time to think about it. But I don’t, so have to live with the results. I guess.

After moving to Tom’s end of the table, we had a heart to heart talk. It was totally awesome that we had this reprieve which allowed us to commune. As I said before, all these folks are family to us and I know our ‘real’ family members would think the same thing. Actually, Jack and Wynette have met them and I think they would agree. Especially about Jerry #1.

This Jerry used to be a Jockey and spends a considerable amount of time at the Portland Meadows race track where he ‘runs book’ on a current jockey. I think that means he gets them rides and shares in their winnings, but it may mean something entirely different. Jerry #1 knows Jack and Wynette from the track because J&W visit regularly to watch one of their friend’s horses run. Today, Jack, Jerry said Jim had a couple of winners the past week, and Jerry’s jockey is riding them.

While talking with Tom, I look up and see familiar faces coming into the facility. One familiar face from 8th grade and High School, with his wife and daughter. They live in St. Helens, as do we, so it was a surprise to see them amongst all these mostly strange people. Then they sat at the table directly behind me. He, Lonnie, didn’t recognize me until I went over and sat down next to him and started taking. His wife, Sandy, and daughter Shannon, I’ve met before at some point in the past, but I don’t remember when. I just see them around town once in a while. It was good to see them. Since they sat so close, talking with them wasn’t an option. It was meant to be.

While talking with Lonnie, I noticed he had steak on his plate, and Sandy had shrimp. That caused me to rethink my need to quit eating since shrimp is really what I was counting on. So, I got a plate, filled it with shrimp and returned it to the table. Then I got another plate, emptied the shrimp bin, and put it at the other end of the table, mission accomplished. Jerry1, Jerry3, and I ate one plate, Tom ate the other. No one else felt the need to delve into these culinary delights which suited me just fine.

Thankfully, everyone stood up at once, as if summoned by some unknown signal that indicated the end of our visit. It was a little weird, but I went along which is good because I was seriously considering another soup bowl of frozen yogurt.

Before entering our assigned vehicles we all practiced our hugs on each other in front of the windows to the buffet place. Assigned vehicles were varied and interesting. Jerry3 & Nelda were in their PT, as were Rick & Jodi. Tom & Linda were in their little Scion toaster car, Diane and I were in our Buick, and Jerry1 was in his Camaro. That was just to show you that our friendship isn’t about PT’s any more, but we still own them.

Then we all came home, returned Grams to her house to recover from all the gaiety, and I haven’t done much since.

Cedric asked to spend the night, which is always just fine with us, because he didn’t want to spend another night with giggling girls in the house. Lydia is always having house guests, it seems. They are all cute, so don’t know why he minds. He is, after all, a High School sophomore. I suppose it might get old after a period of time.

Once again, it’s time to quit. I have, as Terri might say, used up all my nouns. Actually, she says “I’ve lost my nouns,” when trying to remember some thing, some one, or some place. We all loved our lunch and conversation. I was told so many things I needed to remember, but I didn’t have anything on which to take notes. So, those things will rattle around in my head for a while and eventually pop up at some unexpected moment, making it necessary for me to expel it in the midst of something totally unrelated, causing it to lose significance because of it’s seeming lack of association with reality regarding the current conversation, whether I’m part of it or not.

Oh. Almost forgot. The Winnebago water pump showed up in yesterday’s mail. Now we can flush the toilet. Thank goodness for that.

G’nite

Fires, Trees, Pope Francis, and Food

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The skies all over Oregon are filled with the smoke of numerous forest fires burning around the state. It’s sad to see all those trees burn but, you know what? There is more standing forest now than there was when Lewis & Clark visited the area. The cause, lightening, is still a common cause, but the reason we have more now is because we have brave people, with excellent equipment, willing to go out and fight the fires. Back in L&C’s days, they just burned until they went out on their own.

Speaking of all those trees – Why aren’t more of them logged and milled in the USA? Maybe they really are, and we just don’t know it. What I see in our neck of the woods, on both sides of the Columbia River, are HUGE water front collecting facilities for logs that are loaded on cargo ships which are destined for the other side of the Pacific. Some rumors I’ve heard (conspiracy?) is the many of these logs are transported to huge ships, outside our 12 mile limit, that make cheap plywood and return it to the US for sale. I don’t think that’s true, but it’s an interesting concept. They really do, however, get carted out of the country by the boat load. Literally.

When writing this stuff, I have begun to research what my fingers report, and continually find myself going down ‘conspiracy theory’ paths. Some are quite involved, and interesting. Fun reading.

For the record, if anyone who reads this works for the government, I don’t believe any of that conspiracy theory stuff. Not me. No sir. I think the government is full of honorable people who have my personal well-being very high on their list of priorities … right below their pay raises, private medical plans, raiding social security, screwing up the medical world, figuring new ways to get taxes from us for which there is no need except to line their pockets. All of these yahoos should take a page from Pope Francis’ book on how to conduct yourself when in a position of power. He’s really something and kinda makes me think it’s OK to be Catholic.

Actually, it is OK to be Catholic … or anything you wish to be along religious lines.

Although we are far away from the current forest fires in Oregon, our sunsets are much more dramatic because of the smoke. We can smell the fires burning, too.

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OK – I cheated because I don’t have a current picture of a smoke affected sunset. This one is a sunrise. I like it because you can see the crescent moon over Mt. Hood. And, it’s not even a summer sunrise – it’s from November 2010. Still, it’s pretty, even though it’s a little ‘ho hum’ by Oregon standards … yawn … (take that, Jewel).

Just as I sat down to do this, about 3 hours ago, the smoke alarm went off so I knew supper was ready and had to stop. We had tri tip steak. Very good. I like it because I don’t have to gnaw meat off the bone. We also had beets and smashed potatoes. I regret not taking a picture for you, but here are some previous meals you may have missed …

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Diane just told me it’s midnight and time to stop. Last time I looked it was only 10 pm. Guess I’m not a real clock-watcher anymore, like I used to be …

G’nite.

911, Eye Doctor, Fultano’s, and a Laptop

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Yesterday a neighbor was at our door when we got home, looking for some help to help pick Bob Up. He falls down once in a while and they usually call 911 for help getting him vertical. I told them I’d be more than happy to give it a shot, and it worked. We popped him right back on his feet. He was sternly lectured by his wife for trying to carry his sandwich out to the porch. I guess the bees got most of what was left by the time I got there.

This afternoon Diane went to the eye doctor for one of her checkups. Her tear ducts are on the fritz, which isn’t a good thing. While she was gone, I worked with Doug on the American Legion laptop that was doing all kinds of weird things. I knew immediately what the problem was, of course, being the semi-nerd I am, and got busy on the ‘fix’. Then we went to lunch at Fultano’s in Scappoose.

On the way, I texted Jack to see if he was working so he could go if he wasn’t working. He wasn’t, so I stopped to get him on the way. So, it was the Peal brothers vs. the Cate brothers, plus two others the Peals brought for reinforcement. Jack had never been to Fultano’s before, so it was a treat for him. It was all you can eat salad bar and pizza for $7.15, including a drink. Very good stuff.

Upon returning home, I finished cleaning up the laptop and sent Doug an email that it was ready. However, Doug doesn’t check his email very often any more, but I know he reads this, so, Doug, the laptop is done.

The only other thing I did today was start the ’73 RV, just to see if it would. It fired right up. Better than the ’79 ever starts. Interesting.

Later in the evening I got in trouble, but I don’t want to talk about it. Instead, I’m going to bed.

PT, RV, TV, & Lydia

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Today I actually got to pretend like I’m retired. At least for a little while. The only interruption to the day was my last PT appointment with EB at the VA. I don’t have to go back. Oh, the shoulder still hurts, but it was determined by mutual agreement that what needs to be done, I can do at home. As a parting gift, EB gave me a brand spanking new, in he box, ice pack. All I have to do, which I already did, is toss it into the freezer for a while. A great gift, and so simple to care for.

On the way home we decided to celebrate the lunch hour  by ingesting ground up parts of a dead cow. We seem to do that a lot. I know, it doesn’t really sound good when presented in that manner, but I’m not going to shade the truth. It is what it is. I still do not get the reference to pigs for the sandwiches created from the remains of that poor old cow. I think her name was Clarissa. Parts of her are probably still out there in someone’s freezer.

OK – sorry I went down that road, but it’s done and I can’t take it back.

After lunch, we returned home and let Panzee run free in the front yard for a while. Ozzie had to be forcibly relocated from his beloved kennel to the front yard for a little exercise, but he couldn’t wait to get back inside. Since he discovered what his last bowel movement cost, he’s decided, I guess, to just not ever have another one. His increased reclusive nature could also be the result of his distemper shot. We’re not sure. We just know he’s very not a happy camper right now.

One of my tasks today was to measure how many square feet of floor is visible in the old ’73 Winnebago. Turns out there’s around 42 square feet. Small, huh? The reason for obtaining those measurements is because so we’ll know how much replacement material we’ll need when we rip out the terribly stained carpet.

As luck would have it, we have some real deal bamboo flooring in our basement. It was purchased many years ago on a whim after seeing an advertisement on Craig’s List. I think there was a plan when we got it, but it was lost somewhere along the way. Maybe it was destined for the old Winnebago all along. The flooring consists of 24 boards, 3.75 inches wide, and 62.6 inches long which works out to a bit less than the area we need to cover. So, I’m either going to have to cheat on the math, or put spaces between the boards. Using spaces, they will eventually fill up with dirt and dust so that may be a viable solution. Diane will disagree, I’m sure. She does that a lot.

For fun, I set up the portable DirecTV HD antenna out by the garage and hooked up the DVR system in the ’79 Winnebago. I tried this yesterday, too, failing dismally. I knew where to point it, but getting it level proved to be extremely difficult. Today when I tried it, I discovered there’s a bubble level on the antenna, so it was a breeze. With bricks I was able to counteract the influence of the wind which was causing the dish to wiggle a bit, disallowing any possibility of obtaining a good signal strength. It went from ‘0’ to ’96’ plus, for all 32 whatevertheheck it is the DVR measures.

Once I got the good signal, I had a great picture … on channel 100.  Nothing else was available to me because the DVR hasn’t been turned on since last year some time. Now it’s going to be on every day. I’m just going to go out there every once in a while and turn it on, just because I can.

Now, about the portable antenna. It’s the same size as the ones mounted on homes. In fact, it used to be mounted on someone’s home but it was liberated and presented to me. It’s been languishing beside the garage for a few years but hasn’t lost any of its ability to capture digital images. It’s not even rusty like the one on the house.

My success in obtaining a stellar picture in the old motor home was obliterated by the fact that the DirecTV package I ordered does not include HGTV. Oh, the horrors that await me when we hit the road. I’m sure that aspect of the satellite programming will be reconsidered. Thankfully, that can be done on a whim. DirecTV is more than happy to up the ante, so to speak, by adding even more channels to the many you already don’t watch.

Speaking of that, I think satellite, and cable, providers should have an ala carte menu for programming suits each viewer. They can, we already know, be very selective about which channels you can get (the minimum is 55 for us, it seems, most of which we’ll never view) so why not just give us all the locals, TNT, Pac12, ESPN, MGMHD, SyFy, and, of course, HGTV. So charge me $5 apiece for each channel. I don’t care. Don’t give me the ‘package’ of 55 channels of which I will only, ever, watch those mentioned above.

I guess it’s not really a big deal, since I can set a favorites list, but that takes time to go through all those channels. Maybe Diane will do it. Another option, I guess, is to write down the channels we like and just punch in the numbers. Yea. That’s a reasonable solution. It just bugs me to see that hugs list of channels and not be able to see all of them. It’s a ‘thing’.

Now, the most interesting news is about Lydia. Summer is ending, there’s 2 weeks until she begins her freshman year in high school, and she was blessed with a solid case of Fifth Disease that will not dissipate until well after school pictures are taken. With Lydia’s permission, I’m sharing a photo that was taken yesterday when her face was all purple, and splotchy, and a little swollen. Every 14-year-old’s dream look, don’t you think?

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Today, however, there’s very little, if any, swelling, and there’s no rash but it’s still covered with purple splotches. But, as you can see by the below picture, you would never know it.

Thanks to Avon, and the fact that her lovely Grandmother has lots of their products, they were able to rid her of that ‘look’ to ensure school pictures will probably not have to be repeated. It’s totally amazing.

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I think she is a very brave, confident young lady to have allowed me to share the photos. She just rolls with the punches. That’s my Girl.

The $66 Bowel Movement

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OK, here’s the story. Probably not a popular topic, but it’s about constipation. It’s not about normal constipation, either. It’s about a constipated dog. A little dog who, on his last visit to the vet weighed in at 6 lbs. Ozzie weighed over 7 lbs when we got there. He had quit eating, and wouldn’t leave his kennel, so he had to go to the dog doctor.

After a nice long talk with Dr. Brooks, we all agreed that Ozzie, our victim, probably needed an enema because there was no evidence that he’d had any activity of that nature in the past four days, or so. Since there was no way in hell I was giving him one, we took him to her. When he’s testy, like today, he bites.

Upon hearing the latter, the good Dr. backed up a little and said, “but he so cute and looks so friendly.”

“It’s a trick,” I said, reaching down to touch his side and said, “he gets a little testy when you touch him here.”

As if to prove the point, Oz reached around with his lightning fast teeth and chomped a hole in my right hand pointing finger. It bled considerably so the dog Dr. got me cleaning solution with which I scoured my finger, and an assistant got me a band-aid to staunch the flow of blood. It’s been six hours and it still hurts. Why do dog bites hurt for so long? Especially little dog bites?

After proving his point, I showed the Dr. how Oz could be picked up without injury to either him or her, and she carried him away to the back room where all the fun stuff happens. She returned in about five minutes to report all was good. Putting a muzzle on him was the only motivation he needed to evaluate his bowels. How nice. No enema. He was right there when we were talking about it so it’s obvious he heard everything. I would have covered his ears, but he doesn’t like it and shows me his teeth when I do that. Dr. Brooks added that by him doing that, he saved us a few bucks.

I’m sure Oz was more than humiliated by having a BM while being watched by a group of attractive women. It doesn’t get much worse than that, unless you have a severe case of epididymitis and your female doctor calls in another female doc to have a look. What fun.

So, it cost $66 for Oz’s office visit, a distemper shot update, and a dose of worm meds, and it was worth every penny, even if it had only been for the BM.

We should have weighed him before exiting the office because I’m sure he pooped a pound, at least.

Before and after all this I worked on the ’73 Blue Bago. You may recall that when I left it, the mechanical fuel pump was giving me fits because I couldn’t get the bolts in. This morning, it dropped right into place, and the bolts went in simple as can be. It was wonderful. I actually got that done before taking Oz to the doc, and getting bit. It worked perfectly. The engine ran and everything.

After returning with Oz, who promptly ran to his kennel, I put his morning bowl of pouch food near the opening and he gobbled it right up. I suspect that after not eating much for a few days, he was a bit hungry. It was good to see him eat something besides me.

Then I returned my attention to the ’73 BB. The final quest for success involved connecting both fuel tanks to the switch to ensure the engine ran off both tanks. It seems to work just fine, but I honestly don’t know if the switch works. I does, indeed, make a satisfying clicky kind of noise, when I move the switch, but I do not know if it’s actually switching tanks. Both fuel gauges read empty, but I know I poured a few gallons into one of them. It will become evident one of these days when we take it for a ride and run out of gas somewhere on Highway 30.

After playing with gas, I turned my attention to the water pump that failed. On Sunday, after church, I glued it all back together with super-duper silicone sealant. After drying for well over 24 hours I installed it and cranked it up.

It still leaks.

I ordered a new one on eBay and it should be here by the end of the week. Until the new pump arrives, it will remain waterless.

Now I’m tired.

Coffee Hour

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Today, after church, we had the traditional Lutheran Coffee Hour which is an opportunity for the Church Ladies to clean out the fridge, feeding it to unsuspecting visitors. That sounds bad, I know, but it really isn’t. The food is always exceptional because, if for no other reason, it’s a free meal.

Coffee Hour responsibilities rotate amongst the WELCA ladies, or whoever is willing to volunteer, and some of them make the occasion healthy by feeding us apple and orange slices, grapes, and cheese. It’s all good. I can make a meal of that.

The best coffee hours are those that occur shortly after a pot luck because there’s always tons of food left over explicitly for that purpose. The next best are the ones following a bake sale. Then we get pie, cake, lemon bars and brownies for lunch.

It’s just great and once, during a lucid moment while descending from a sugar high, inspired me to write a one page story. I write a lot of one page stories because by the end of the first page I’ve pretty much run out of things to write about.

So, to save wear and tear on my fingers, I’ll just cut and paste this ditty from, wow, 2001. You don’t have to read it. It is, after all, old. But, it’s pretty typical of our coffee hours. The only thing that changes is the kind of food. Today, for instance, we had left over beans, potato salad, and hot dogs. My impulse is to say ‘weenies’, not hot dogs but, as reported previously, I’ve discovered that some folks construe that word in an unacceptable way. Regardless, it was all good.

I regret I have no photos of the original, or today’s meal, but here’s one of some corn I had to eat the other day …

IMG_0597

 

Now, the story. Oddly, I named it “Coffee Hour”.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< Start >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The service was finally over then we were funneled down to the basement and placed in a position that required us to consume large quantities of pastry and coffee. For some, this is the most important part of Sunday service.  Pastor has expanded the normal monthly coffee hour to include all Sundays on a more informal basis. Still, it’s the 2nd Sunday that brings out the best in the Church Ladies.

On the way down the stairs I stop to investigate the innards of our mailbox, conveniently located on the landing. Nothing there. Diane beat me to it again. That’s OK. I’ll get a chance to read whatever was there when she forgets and sets it on a table. I’ll snatch it up when she’s got a cookie halfway to her mouth. Not that it would make a difference – I doubt if she’d even lose a crumb off that cookie.  She would hand it to me if I just asked, but being sneaky about it is more fun. Or, I could go read someone else’s mail that hadn’t been picked up yet – someone who wasn’t here today. Yeah, I could do that. After all, their mail was just like ours no doubt. Again, no fun. I needed a little challenge.

I’m at the end of the line near the door to the front stairs and Diane is almost to the serving line. I would go join her, but Ev is between us and I know how he is about people cutting in front of him. I made that mistake once – it wasn’t pretty – won’t do it again – shouldn’t’ve done it the first time. But hey! I’m younger and quicker (I thought) so why not?  I had that urge again because the lemon bars were going quickly and there was a distinct possibility I wouldn’t get any if I didn’t do something to improve my place in line. So I just marched up and started talking with Ev about something (don’t remember what) and just kept it up while the line shuffled forward. Those around us didn’t realize the drama unfolding before them, but Ev knew. I watched him flick his eyes toward the plates of goodies every once in a while (I knew he was checking the lemon bars) as I continued my meaningless banter.

Just before we reached the counter Jeff came by and greeted to me. This stopped my drivel and caused me to avert my attention from Ev to Jeff. Ev took that opportunity to swiftly fill the space I had vacated thereby sealing the line, making it necessary for me to return to the end and start over. It’s a Church Rule. There was absolutely no way I was getting lemon bars today. No way. Bummer. But, I had to finish the line. While I was working my magic on Ev, twelve more people had arrived, so there was a possibility I might not get anything.  As I wasted away at the end of the line all I could think about was how thankful I was that we have communion every Sunday. Makes missing a cookie or two relatively unimportant.

As that last thought flashed through my numbed mind, Ev came by, paused for a moment, looked me sternly in the eye, then handed me one of the two lemon bars on his plate. What a guy! Sharing his lemon bars! Not many would do that. As I stood there in wonder, thankful for Ev’s generosity, I looked down at the lemon bar cradled on the napkin in my outstretched hand. It was a great lemon bar. Must have been about 3 inches by 2 inches – generous cuts by the Church Ladies.

Just as I was recovering from Ev’s kind gesture, Diane came over. Seeing the lemon bar in my outstretched hand, she took it with a “thanks, Honey!” and went to her chair. My eyes moved from my empty hand to Diane, no words coming. Once again I had nothing with a strong possibility of not improving that stance. The line moved on without me but that didn’t matter since there was no one behind to urge me on. 

When Diane got to her seat she turned and said, “come on, I got you some coffee and cookies.” That perked me up. I wasn’t leaving empty-handed after all. Oh yeah, it was OK that she took the lemon bar since it was for her anyway. I can take them or leave them, but she goes into withdrawal if she doesn’t get a lemon fix at least once a month. Me? I’ve been known to do some pretty embarrassing things for an oatmeal raisin cookie.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< Stop >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Now you can quit and do something useful with your time.

Thanks

Our Church Parking Lot Sale & Lug Nuts

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Today it turned in to a fairly large, multi-family garage sale, without the garage. Lots of nifty stuff, including a decent meal, for a free will offering and worth every penny. The weather is currently hot and humid but this morning there was a distinct threat of rain, so it kind of dampened folks’ spirits for a short time.

The sale was supposed to begin at 10 am and people started showing up at 8:30, right on time. Like any yard or garage sale, people want a bargain. When I was calling the prices things moved swiftly because I haven’t got a clue as to what ‘things’ are worth. They are worth whatever someone wants to pay for them. I figured it was a good rule of thumb.

………….. skip ahead one day here ………………

Things went sideways up there so I stopped and never got back to this. Mostly what happened is I got involved in long conversations with whoever came by to get a hot dog. I learned a valuable lesson while doing the hot dog thing … some women won’t accept the offer of a weenie, but they will if the offer is a hot dog. I tested that on three or four of them. I don’t understand … it’s the same thing, for crying out loud. Ya know?

One of the hot dog eaters was the young boy who lives in the parsonage, next to the church, which we rent out. He came by for a hot dog about 8 times. Two I know were his, and the rest were for his brother and friend who paid him to get dogs for them. After the 4th visit I shamed him into making a free will offering, like the sign says, so he started paying a quarter for each of them. He made 75 cents on each of the remaining ones. We, of course, lost money on that deal, but it was OK. He’s a good kid.

Today I got to learn a new skill in the area of auto mechanics. The PT that Dan and Jen have been driving started making lots of racket in the vicinity of the left front wheel. When I popped off the cover over the lug nuts, three of them fell out, along with the portions of the wheel lugs that had broken off. Of the two remaining lug nuts, one was finger tight meaning the wheel was being held to the car with only one lug nut. Amazing.

After a little investigation on the internet, I discovered that the wheel lugs, though pressed into place, could be replaced. So, Daniel and I got together and did it. He did most of the work, of course, while I sat in my little lawn chair and supervised. I thought it was better that way so he would also know how to do it. Being much younger, he will no doubt have need of this knowledge after I’m long gone.

We had to remove everything off the wheel, then hammer the old lugs out. New ones, with new lug nuts, cost $22.00 at NAPA. Considering the possibilities, had the wheel come off, we figured it was a cheap price to eliminate at least one chance of dying on the highway. Really cheap, and not all that difficult to do if you just sit there and supervise.

Not I’m tired so think I’ll out back and play with the power washer.

401k’s, My Water Pump, and God

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I’ve delayed adding this entry because the number, 401, invokes some really sad memories of my previous employment. You see, the power company I worked for was purchased by ENRON and convinced a large number of employees that their stock was impervious to decline. Indeed, it rose rapidly, and stayed high for a long time. Being one of the gullible group, I cast my fortunes with them right up until they made it impossible to withdraw before the stock dropped to $0. Nice. So, my 401k disappeared, after 15 years of participation, in the virtual blink of an eye.

There’s my sad story for today.

Now on to fun stuff …

I worked on the RV today because last night I discovered the water pump leaked. It leaked a lot. This morning I removed it and ripped it apart to see what makes it tick. It was evident someone before me had a problem with it because, in addition to screws, it was held together with silicon gasket material. It was this that became compromised allowing water to squirt all over under the sink. Sadly, I won’t be able to replace parts in it because they don’t make this kind any more. I’ll have to buy a new one. I may let it dry out and see about making it water tight, once again, but don’t have any high hopes of that happening. It would be far easier to just replace it but, then, it’s been a while since I’ve had my fingers stuck together with silicone sealant. Might be kinda nice, for a change.

There’s good news – the ’79 RV still runs, and the transmission works! I know because I drove it to Warren and parked it at the church as agreed. It drives just great even though it hasn’t been driven for about a year. I start it once in a while, just for fun, so I know the engine is good. Might be a good idea to change the oil, though. You think?

Now it’s time to lounge for the evening. I have nothing significant to say except I’ve been working on my version of religious history. I think I’m on chapter seven. I’m doing it with the firm belief that God has a sense of humor. He must because I have not been hit by lightning, yet. There is, however, always tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll be labeled a blasphemer, at the minimum, and that’s OK because I know it’s not true.

I’m just having fun at God’s expense. Since he knows me so well, I don’t think he minds.