I’ve had a special request from somewhere out East for photos of the RV. I actually shared a picture two or three blogs ago, but to honor this request, here are some more … in addition to other photos that hold special interest for me …
401k’s, My Water Pump, and God
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.
Blog # 400
Hey! It’s a milestone! This is my 400th entry. You’d think that by now I would be a lot less full of crap than when I started, wouldn’t you? Diane doesn’t think so. She thinks I have a never-ending supply. I suppose I should be offended, kinda, but I’m not. I think, as Popeye would say, “I yam what I yam.”
Today was PT day for me at the VA, and I think it might be my last because the diagnosis changed a little bit. Instead of my rotator cuff, now it’s my bicep that’s deemed to be problematic and it can be addressed by pushing really, really hard on the part that hurts, just before applying ice. Diane said she’d be happy to do that for me so there’s really no need for me to visit EB at the VA any longer.
After the VA we took back roads from Portland to Hillsboro where we had lunch at the all you can eat joint. I had dead chicken, shrimp scampi, corn, mashed potatoes, buns, a root beer float, and frozen yogurt with hot fudge topping. Very nutritious. Well, it taste very nutritious, anyway, and that’s the important part.
After lunch went a few blocks to the Habitat For Humanity ReStore store to look for ‘stuff’. The original thought was to see if they had any of the panelling that looks like wainscoting to use in The Bathroom. Instead, we found wainscoting of various sizes that’s all tongue and groove on all four sides. Interesting. We bought almost all of it, in addition to a large area rug that will be placed in the dining room area once we rip out the rest of the carpet that’s there. This rug is, of course, for Ozzie who does not walk on hard wood, or ceramic tile floors. He needs rugs. Oddly, he has no problem walking the length of the garage floor. I think it has something to do with traction.
After the ReStore store visit, we went to Tuality Hospital in Hillsboro to visit our friend Tom. Linda was there, so got visit with her, too. Tom is doing absolutely great. He’s up walking the floor for his physical therapy and is doing wonderful. We had a nice long visit which ended when his PT person arrived to get him moving around. When he raised up and swiveled around to stand up I made him stop because he had on one of those backless gowns and I didn’t want the image of his ass burned into my brain as I knew it would never go away. He was kind enough to defer until I could get around in front of him and make my departure. We’re really proud of him. Of the three people who were on life support, including him, he’s the only one who made it out. There’s a reason. We don’t know what it is, yet, but we’ll be finding out.
On the way out of the hospital I stopped at the Admissions Desk and asked the young lady behind the counter if she was the one to whom I should confess. It was an impulse, and she immediately got it. You know … admit you did something wrong, or confess … all the same to me. She told me no in a very nice way, but I think she was on the phone to security as I made my way out the door.
Then we headed home. I told Diane what I did with the Admissions Lady and she asked, “Jerold, why do you do things like that? One of these days you’re going to ask the wrong person and they’ll just lock you up.” She was very serious, as she is every time she tells me that. I never listen, of course. I just cruise that fine line, down the middle of the decorum column, with the belief that everyone has at least a little sense of humor. If they don’t, they should. Diane’s concern, with which I must agree, is that my sense of humor is a bit obscure for some folks. That’s OK. Can’t satisfy everyone.
Today is Newspaper Day for me. That’s when I go to the Lion’s Club newspaper collection container and straighten things up a bit. Someone does this every day to ensure only paper gets stacked inside. Most people follow the suggested rules, about paper only, but others couldn’t careless. It’s handy so they toss in whatever they have because a trash can is too far away. It’s usually not too bad. Today it was because someone decided it was OK to drop a bag of well used cat litter inside, and it leaked. Add to that the high temp today was just under 90, and it’s in a large, truck size, steel container, it just kind of permeated everything. I think the temp inside was well above 100 so exerting any kind of effort produced prodigious amounts of sweat which really messed up my glasses. I had to work fast because the smell was starting to get to me, and I had already called in an order for pizza. I was a total mess when I emerged from the container. Everything was wringing wet, even my socks, so folks in Papa Murphy’s were eager to see me get my pizza and leave.
As soon as I got home I fired up the oven and came to my computer to put together my agenda for tonight’s church council meeting. The whirlwind continued when Diane got home from taking her Mom to Safeway, the pizza was inserted, giving me only 8 minutes to do something before having to eat it. Actually 10 minutes. After 8 we turn it then cook it another 2. Perfect every time.
As we ate we watched Diane Sawyer news, then it was time for me to leave for my meeting. It was brutal. I’m home from my marathon meeting and got tired all over again just relating all that.
So now I’m quitting. It’s really sad that I didn’t have something really profound to share for my 400th entry. The best I could do was about Tom. You know, Tom’s situation is pretty profound, now that I think about it. It’s amazing! It’s a miracle! He’s literally back from the dead to bless us with his presence a while longer. Maybe not all by his choice, however, I have no doubt that a strong will to survive had something to do with his recovery.
G’nite.
The Cat, Ants, & The Blue Bago
Yesterday afternoon Jeff appeared with Gilligan and Baylee in tow. His goal was to move the play set to the back yard. The girls objective was to ignore him, and run all over the yard as fast, and as often as they could. They would also stop and pick apples and plums once in a while, but they wouldn’t eat what they picked so we had a discussion about that. Then they picked flowers. They had a great time.
Before putting the play set back together, Jeff power washed some of the pieces and parked them for drying. Breezie found it and conquered the climbing wall. Here’s proof:
Now she can look over the rhoddie that she usually sleeps under. Funny cat.
In case you’re wondering about the yard, the only thing green are the dandelions I planted. According to the guy I got them from, in a couple of years the lawn should be green year round. I’m looking forward to that. So are the dogs.
Good news about Tom – he’s breathing well on his own, the hiccups are gone, and he wants me to bring him a bed pan. I plan to do that tomorrow. Linda and Coleen both reported that Tom now remembers Linda so she’s going to have to cancel that trip to Mexico. For a while there she didn’t think he would miss her. Now we all suspect that not recognizing her was a ruse, a ploy, messing with her head. That’s the Tom we know and love and it’s good to see him doing so well.
Today I worked almost all day on the Blue Winnebago. Did I tell you that it’s blue? No big deal, but it’s just wrong that someone did that. It will, one of these days, once again be Winnebago Green. The task for today, however, was to get the mechanical fuel pump issue resolved.
Toward that end, I was able to definitively determine that the old pump was, indeed, faulty. I ventured to Car Quest to see about getting a replacement, but they didn’t have one in stock. They had to order it from their warehouse. I was there around 11 am, and they had the part in hand by 3 pm. I don’t know where the warehouse is, but it can’t be all that far away for that kind of service.
While I was waiting for that part to arrive I discovered that I was competing with a rather large group of ants for space under the Blue Bago’s engine. Some of them made their presence known by looking me directly in the face as I sat under the rig with my back against the inside of the right front wheel. It’s pretty roomy under there, but the ants wanted it all. I did my best to ignore them, but it was difficult. This is what they looked like after most of our conversations …
… and, in case you haven’t seen it, here’s the Blue Bago …
I had to stay outside all day because Diane was cleaning the house, top to bottom. It’s the most thorough cleaning the house has had since she had her major battle with shingles. Up to this time, I did the vacuuming, which gives her fits, but I only did it when she asked me to. And, I never did it as good as she normally does. But it was my place to help her because that’s what partners do. It’s taken me a really long time to understand that when she starts doing something that I don’t have to jump in front of her and do it for her. Sometimes she likes to just do things herself. I made that difficult. That’s why I spent all my time outside today. She knew where I was if she needed help. If I had stayed inside I would have taken the vacuum away and made her sit on the couch. Instead, she collapsed on the couch.
Now she’s in the hot tub. It still has issues, but it warmed up the water nicely, to about 107 degrees, and the chemicals are stable. I don’t like using the hot tub so much for reasons I’ve stated in previous blogs. Simply put, hot tubs should be enjoyed naked but our neighbors don’t agree. Actually, neither does Diane.
Tomorrow I have PT w/EB @ the VA again. I don’t think the PT is helping much, but tomorrow’s trip will serve another purpose by getting us close to Tom’s hospital so I can deliver his bed pan.
It’s after 9 pm, now, so I must go.
Jerrie’s tired.
1 – 2 – 3 – Safe!
Before I get carried away with this, as I sometimes do, let me apologize for my fragrant fingers. I just applied some Avon Foot Works Deep moisture Cream to the palms of both feet to fend off dryness which has a tendency to attack exposed body parts without warning. Actually, I have plenty of warning but forget to do anything about it, normally, until time for bed. Then I don’t want to apply it because it makes my feet stick to the sheets and I don’t like that. So, I cream my feet during the day, mainly because Diane insists. Not because they are odoriferous, but because they are dry.
First thing this morning, around 0630, I attempted to place my open yogurt container, from which I had yet to partake, upon the table by my assigned end of the couch. It was dark so most of you may think that setting the container in such a manner that when released would tumble freely to the floor. It was particularly distressing because it was Peach, one of my favorites. It landed big side down which, for some yogurt containers would be a good thing, but not for Tillamook yogurt. Their big end is the one used to dip out the great tasting interior of the container. There was a small pile of yogurt next to the upside down container meaning the remainder had to still be inside.
So, I had a dilemma.
Do I make an honest effort and try to contain the spilled remnants inside the container as I tipped it over? Do I flip it fast, or flip is slow? Or, just pick it up like nothing is wrong?
I chose the latter and was pleased when I discovered that at least half of the container was full. The other half remained on the floor in two fairly evenly sized piles. I wasn’t sure if this constituted a new dilemma or was still part of the first one, but it was a dilemma, all the same.
The piles that escaped were sitting placidly on the hard wood floor, missing the carpet by mere inches. I didn’t see any visual evidence of dog or cat hair in the vicinity, so briefly considered just scooping it up and putting it back into the container and calling it good. Instead, I retrieved my spoon from the end table and, since I was already on my knees, just bent of a little and scooped spoons full directly into my mouth.
I did this for two reasons – 1) I chose to not take a chance of contaminating the yogurt that remained in the container, and 2) Diane wasn’t there to tell me it was a bad idea. I already knew it was probably a bad idea, but I’ve eaten food from the floor in the past, and I believe I’m better for it. More on that later, if I remember.
When scooping up the remains, I was very careful to not touch the spoon all the way down to the floor. Doing that would have pulled up all manner of things like 409, Simple Green, wax, and old varnish. Perhaps a pet hair or two, also. That didn’t happen. I got pure yogurt and I got most of it.
Once I’d had my share of the floor yogurt, I called Ozzie over to see if he liked Peach yogurt. He did for a short time, but quickly gave it up so Panzee could finish up. Panzee likes any kind of yogurt. She’s my official yogurt container cleaner, getting the remnants my spoon can’t. When she was finished with the floor, she stared intently at me, waiting for the container to finish the job. I ate slowly, causing her great concern, but she kept her cool, and didn’t issue any threats that would cause me to hasten the process.
Then I took my morning nap, waking at Diane’s command around 0800, alerting me that we had to leave for church in an hour.
An hour! I still had a good 30 minutes of sleep time to go, so I took it, arising precisely at 0830.
We left at 0900, picked up Diane’s Mom, Jean, and arrived at church about 0910. It’s a quick trip.
During the service, I was the designated communion assistant. Yeah, I know. That’s a little out of character for me, but I did it quite frequently and most people don’t seem to mind. My job is to handle the wine with decorum and appropriately bestow the blessing of “Christ’s blood, shed for you.” I do that for each parishioner who choses to accept communion. Today we had communion via “intinction” so all I had to do was hold the cup as everyone dipped their wafer into the wine. It’s a simple task.
When everyone was done, we returned to the altar to replace unused wafers and the wine when the 2nd casualty of the day transpired. I bumped the wafer tray while sitting the goblet down and slopped wine all over the altar. I also soaked a few wafers. To help save me from ridicule, pastor moved toward me to cover the mishap as we sopped it up with the napkins placed there for just that purpose. Thankfully, this has happened so many times in the past, that a thick plastic cover was placed over the paraments to protect them. So, it wasn’t the catastrophe that it could have been.
After the service, like every other Sunday, we went to the basement for coffee and treats. It’s called “Coffee Hour”, but sometimes it lasts 2-3 hours so that’s not a descriptive name for this event. But, it’s tradition, so I’ll just go with that.
Things went well for the first 10 minutes or so, while I was talking with Ron. Then, without any warning, what so ever, I found it necessary to make a gesture to punctuate a statement and made it half way through before disaster struck. Standing at the table, the gesture issued away from my body successfully, but on the return to the resting position, a little bit of just one finger found the edge of Ron’s coffee cup, spilling the contents toward me in a rush of liquid. I managed to jump back, like it was a normal movement, and calmly stood there assessing the damage as Ron rushed to get a rag to staunch the flow. I had one little splash mark just below the knee of my left pant leg which I could easily hide from Diane. Thankfully, Ron chose to put creamer in his coffee today, so it was essentially the same color as my khaki pants. No one else received damage from this. I attribute this to my foresight to spill it toward me, not away from me. Even then, I think the large doily in the center of the table would have sucked the coffee up quickly. We may never know.
From church we went to Burger King, for a nutritious lunch, then to Fred Meyer so Diane and Mom could shop for food while I stayed on guard in the vehicle. They were only gone about an hour before returning with two loaded carts which I would have helped with but my seat belt was still hooked up. I even sat there and watched 86-year-old Jean push the carts back to the store. A bit of grief was bestowed upon me for that discretion. It wasn’t bad because those present recognized that it was not my nature to avoid opportunities like that. I’m the guy who always opens car doors, any doors, for the ladies in my presence. A lost art, I know, but an example I insist on displaying not matter where we are. Diane is so used to this that, when leaving the house, she goes into the garage and stands beside her car, knowing I’m right behind her to open the door. There’s just the two of us, but the gesture has even more meaning then than when done in public. It’s not done for show, but as a sign of respect. Looking back on this, I should have freed myself from my seat and done the right thing, but I didn’t. Now I must live with this flaw on my previously almost unflawed behavior. Drat!
The coffee spilling incident was #3 for the day so I figured I was pretty safe for foreseeable future. So far, that’s been true, but there is a long way to go until bedtime. Lots of stuff could happen in the next 5-6 hours. I’m pretty confident I’ll be safe until tomorrow.
Something I forgot to mention yesterday, with regard to the failed fuel pump, is that I discovered an absolutely brand new one in one of the little storage compartments on the RV. There’s even a new starter, in case the current one fails. Since there was already a new fuel pump, it’s normal to presume that the previous owner anticipated this failure. Tomorrow I’m going to install it and see what happens. I might even add some brake fluid to the master cylinder to solve that issue.
Later …
Engines, Swing Sets, and Tom
Today I did something I’ve been wanting to do for months. I worked on the old D-22 Winnebago and got it running! That’s a pretty magnificent thing, I thought, because I’m not really a gear head. I’m more of a computer nerd-type of person. Actually, I’m just a semi-nerd because I don’t know half the stuff real nerds know. I just fiddle around the edges, and I’m not afraid to rip things apart to see what makes them tick.
I do, however, have problems with motivation. You know, getting started on something I want to do. It’s easy to claim that other projects get creep to the top of my list before I can get it done, but that’s not really valid. Today, however, I put my OCD-ness aside for a moment, gathered my tools, and went out to tackle this thing.
I was allowed to do this because Diane went to her Mom’s for Day Two of their garage sale. It was a bust. She came home around 1:30 pm because they only made about $20 between them. But, they had a nice visit.
Back to the Winnie …
The problem was with the fuel system. I already knew this, but I didn’t know where. So, I unpacked my trouble-shooting hat and went to work at the Tank Selection Switch, that gives a satisfying little click when I push the right switch on the dash. I didn’t trust it, however, so routed the fuel line around it, directly to the fuel pump.
That didn’t work, so I took the fuel pump out and tested it on a spare battery I just happened to have in the garage. It was charged up, too. I checked. This was an obstacle I had to rise above so I thought and thoughts about what to do. Then the light bulb popped on reminding me of the electric fuel pump I used to get the D-22 home in the first place. I’d installed it on the old pickup because I didn’t think the mechanical fuel pump was working. Turns out is was ok, but the pump was still installed, until around noon.
I got the pump connected to the fuel line, and connected the wires, then tested it with the dash switch. It worked just fine, making all kinds of little pumping noises. But, it wasn’t pushing fuel to the carburetor. I knew this was true because I was looking at a clear fuel filter right next to the carburetor as I cranked the engine. It was right there beside me so I know I wasn’t just guessing.
The engine also has a mechanical fuel pump, like all good engines, but I didn’t know if it worked or not, even though left it connected to the fuel line.
When I first started cranking the engine, I could hear the pump prime itself, and I saw a little movement in the gas filter, but not enough to fire the engine. This told me that it might be a good idea to take the mechanical fuel pump out of the line and just run on the electric pump. When I crawled back under the rig to do this, I noticed gas dripping from the bottom of the pump, so I knew gas was getting to it, but apparently not through it. But, the electric pump just kept right on chugging the entire time the ignition key was on. To help me solve this dilemma, before going under the rig the next time, I turned the electric pump on and left it running so I could see what was happened.
It was pretty exciting when I looked. Gas was spewing everywhere out of the mechanical pump from parts that are specifically designed to not spew. Figuring this was a good clue on which to build a solution, I returned to the cab and stopped the electric fuel pump.
Then it was back under so I could disconnect the mechanical pump, and remove it from the fuel line. Knowing the fuel lines, and the pump, were now full of fuel, I braced myself for a deluge of gas when I took the lines apart and reconnected them around the mechanical pump. I wasn’t disappointed. Gas poured down my arm, soaking my shirt, burning like crazy. But I stood fast, getting it all reconnected, and hose clamps clamped until nothing dripped. Since I already knew it was going to gush, I successfully kept my face out of the way so didn’t have to content with potential blindness or lung damage.
After waiting the recommended amount of time for allowing gas to dry on your clothing, which is about 37 minutes, I re-entered the cab and fired up the electric fuel pump and was provided with a satisfying surge of fuel into the fuel filter at the carburetor. I cranked the engine and it started almost immediately, pleasing me immensely. I runs extremely well, kinda like a sewing machine, but considerably louder.
I was pleased. I was ecstatic.
It ran and nothing caught on fire. That was the best part, I think. No fire, although I’m sure there was a strong possibility of it at any moment.
Putting thoughts of fire aside, I put it in reverse to make sure the transmission still worked. It did, but the brakes didn’t like I’d hoped the would. Since it moved, however, I figured it was a good opportunity for me to put it in the driveway to pump up the left front tire which has slowly been going flat over the last year or so.
Just when I put it in reverse, Diane showed up. So, you know that was about 1:30 pm. She was very proud of me and parked in the driveway, where I wanted to be, so she could rush to me and give me the “Hug of Gladness”. She didn’t do that. Instead, I asked her to move the Buick into the garage so I could put the Winnie in the driveway. She said, “I can’t because your boxes are in the way.” I looked, and it was true, there were two boxes in the way. I looked, not because I didn’t believe her, but because I was curious about what boxes they might be. Turns out they were empty cardboard boxes which were very easy to move. Once I did, she moved her vehicle into the garage.
Then it was back to the Winnie for me, by golly. I’d left it running, just to see how long it took before it quit, but it purred right along the whole time I was gone. Putting it in reverse, I eased it back about 20 feet or so, so I could make the right turn into our driveway in one move and discovered that the brakes still didn’t work. I probably should have checked the brake fluid level, but I was determined to finish the current task first … get it into the driveway. Doing so, in the condition the brakes were poses a significant danger to the back of the Buick, and the garage, but I overcame this by working the transmission like a coxswain in a motor whale boat, easing it forward, then jamming on the useless brakes about five or six times, then putting it in reverse to stop the forward momentum. Coxswains don’t use brakes to drive their boats so that comparison was only partially correct. With the transmission, and use of the emergency brake, which I accidentally discovered worked pretty good, I got it parked and was able to pump up the tire.
About the tires … the wheels on this thing are 19″ aluminum 5-lug custom rims. Consequently, the tires are also 19″ in the middle, and considerably taller on the outside. They are enormous things. The other Winnebago we have only has 16″ rims and the wheels look tiny by comparison. I think the Alcoa Aluminum rims were an option in 1973, but I’m not positive. I did, however, spy them in the parts catalog I have for Winnebago parts. They cost way more than what I paid for the entire rig. That means I have a huge polishing job in my future so they’ll be pretty. Incidentally, I know they are Alcoa Aluminum rims because each of them has a sticker proclaiming that fact. This tells me that Alcoa was very proud of those rims at some point in time so I need to honor them by making them shiny again.
With the RV out of the way, I cranked (and cranked) the truck up and moved it to the end of the portion of property we own on the other side of the road. Then I got my loppers out and proceeded to hack down blackberry vines, again. These are new ones, however, not the same ones I hacked down earlier in the week. Before hauling the residue down to the burn pile, I ran the mower back and forth across the weeks, getting as close to the blackberry vines as possible without endangering my little bare legs because I was wearing shorts.
It cleaned up pretty nice and gave Diane another reason to be proud of me. Twice in one day. I believe that’s a record for me.
I had just backed out of the driveway to move the RV back across the street, with the old truck, When Jeff showed up with Gilligan, Baylee, Ziva, and Daisy. In case you didn’t know, Ziva and Daisy are dogs. The other two are very energetic grandchildren who love to run, everywhere they go. Wears me out.
With his arrival, parking the RV because a parallel parking issue because he parked at the end furthest from the old truck, which I had backed into the blackberries just as far as I could, placing it in such a manner that if I couldn’t stop the RV, the truck would. Turns out I’m pretty good at parking RVs just by using the transmission R and D positions.
Jeff came to deal with the elaborate swing set Diane and I got Cedric, Lydia, and Jeran when they were much younger, but have since grown beyond the need to use it. Jeff had it installed at another place to which they were going to move, but that didn’t work out, so it was dismantled and placed on the west side of the garage. He and I moved it to the back yard near the location we all chose for the erection. Perhaps resurrection would be more correct since it’s already been erected a couple of times. It’s certainly not ‘construction’ because it’s just a matter of bolting it all together and making sure it doesn’t fall over. OK, now I’m getting confused so will move along …
It’s 8:40 pm, now, and the batter on my laptop is almost ready to expire, so I will quite.
Tom, incidentally, was removed from the respirator today and is breathing on his own. More improvement which is really the best thing about today. That, and making my bride proud.
Twice.
Good News, Bad News
The good news is that Tom is getting better and the doctor who put him on life support, as a last resort, thinks Tom is going to win. Thank you all for your kind thoughts regarding Tom. I won’t dwell on the details. Just know that it appears the DNR Linda authorized won’t be needed quite yet.
Now, the bad news.
It isn’t really catastrophic, as some bad news events I’ve experienced, but it’s still one of those unmanly events I seem to get caught up in once in a while. The garage sale, it was. I mentioned this last night, shortly before midnight, at which Diane called a halt, ending my endless trips up and down the basement stairs, adding boxes of “things” to the Buick’s interior. It was amazing how she cleared out big areas down there. We discovered the pool table that Jack and Wynette sent over. It hasn’t been put together, yet, but it’s still there. I’d forgotten about it.
It disappeared because it’s a large horizontal surface which everyone knows is extremely handy for collecting a large amount of ‘stuff’. Ultimately, it simply disappears under a mound of quilts, blankets, computers, games, boxes of bolts, screws, and nails. Stuff like that. I think there were some underwear in there someplace, too. Don’t know whose they were but they weren’t mine because there weren’t any spots on them and they didn’t fit. I checked.
Diane and I arrived at her Mom’s house shortly after 8 am. Did you get that? 0800! It was brutal having to leave my nice comfy recliner to go empty out the Buick. But, I had my coffee, so I dealt with it as best I could. Getting there early gave me an opportunity to visit the neighbor to see what kind of bargains he had. The best one was a chain saw for $16. An old guy beat me to it, however. The owner, the neighbor’s Dad, picked it up, yanked the cord once, and it fired right up. What a great deal that was.
They also had all manner of things that plug-in, but I have lots of those already. Oddly, as I recall them, all I can ‘see’ is two long rows of various kinds of drills with the cords neatly wound up and rubber banded to the handles. Very clean and proper, it was. I was impressed.
After spending a couple of hours ‘in the area’, I gained my freedom around 10 am and went home where I wandered around aimlessly in the basement in a failed attempt to be as productive as Diane in ridding my shop of things I don’t really need. It was painful. I honestly cannot remember doing anything useful until I texted Diane and asked if she was hungry. That was shortly after noon.
So, I drove the Buick, which I’m allowed to drive when I’m by myself, back to Grams’ where I received $20 and a request for one of those chicken teriyaki Subway sandwiches. I had my heart set on tacos, and was determined to get some, but that didn’t work out because I hit the light just right to make the left turn to Subway, so I took it. Taco Bell is to the right. Then, when I attempted to park, I couldn’t because some old person in front of me took the very last spot. Therefore, I had to back out of the lot and go park about a mile away and walk back. By the time I returned spaces were available, of course, but it’s luck of the draw getting one when you drive in.
I ordered the dead chicken sandwich and also my favorite – a foot long real deal egg (not just whites) with double bacon on non-nutritional white bread. I always order ‘non-nutritional white bread’ to which the sandwich makers almost always validate with, “Italian?” This gets my approval because I know it’s the right one.
Like normal, I asked them to not cut mine in half because I was just going to devour it so it was a wasted effort. Turns out that this time I should have let them do it because it was really limp in the middle and kind of flopped over. Definitely not a one-handed sandwich. For a drink, Diane’s Mom, Jean, got me one of her sodas. It was a tiny little 7.5 oz can. Just about the cutest, most adorable little can of soda I believe I’ve ever had the pleasure of holding. It made me feel like an NBA basketball player with a normal soda, the way it fit in my hand. I think it was Sprite.
At this time, 8:21 pm, Diane is once again in the basement boxing ‘things’ up for me to cart up the stairs. I guess it’s good exercise for me but I’m not a fan of exercise. Neither is Diane. I admit, we ‘talk’ about walking, and actually did, one time, walk down to her Mom’s house with the dogs but we never did it again. It’s downhill the first half which wasn’t too bad, but had it not been for the dogs pulling us back up the hill, we would have called it quits. Maybe if we did it more regularly it would get easier. Ya think?
I don’t think I mentioned one of the benefits we gained by me cutting down the hedge out front. The sprinklers can actually reach all the way to the bed, now, when the window is open. Thankfully, it was Diane’s side that took the brunt of the soaking, so I didn’t really mind. Diane likes to water the brown lawn this time of year, for some reason, and didn’t think about the window being open because it’s never been a problem before. Now it is.
Now I must quit. I’ve been typing for 9 minutes now and my fingers are getting tired. I need a drink of water with which I will raise in a toast to Tom’s continued success.
G’nite.
Our Friend Tom
Just so you know, prayer works.
I just spoke with Linda, who authorized me to share remnants of my legendary faulty memory with you about our conversation.
Tom is very, very sick, but he’s fighting it, like we knew he would. Linda said she signed all the DNR papers last night, knowing this is what Tom would want. But he was still with us this morning. Linda was sure the doctor she saw this morning was very surprised that Tom was still with us. More surprising was that he had improved, according to him, “about half a %”. Linda said she’d take it, but it looked more like 1% to her.
This afternoon she was able to speak with him briefly so he’s alert when not totally knocked out on meds. They did an endoscopy to check for cancer and found none. Good news. His esophagus is damaged from the constant hiccupping, about 2 a second, non-stop. He did have a 2 hour reprieve this morning then they gave him a CAT scan and they started again. They think it was the vibrations of the machine that caused the spasms to start again.
Still, he’s improving.
Since Tome is a nurse, the doctors and nurses haven’t kept him in the dark about what’s going on. Being a Christian, Tom is pretty much OK with whatever happens, but we’re sure he’d like to stay with us a while.
So, please don’t stop sending Tom positive thoughts. He’s improving, but still needs them.
Thank you all for sticking with us.
Now I’ll go down another road, like the one we took today.
I may have mentioned, or not, that Grams’ neighbor was having a garage sale tomorrow so Diane and she decided to piggyback on their advertising. Not a bad idea, but it was the cause of a lot of work I hadn’t planned on. Now that it’s over, however, I’m glad we did it because we actually punched a hole in the basement clutter by taking “things” to Grams house to sell. What doesn’t sell will be transported to the Bethany Parking Lot Sale on the 16th. What doesn’t sell will be donated to the Senior Center thrift store. Or, perhaps, become of a bonfire. It’s not coming back home. I. WILL. NOT. ALLOW. IT.
I was proud of Diane for giving up the many things she did. There’s a lot remaining that will be transported tomorrow morning. I’m really looking forward to that because I’m sure most of it is heavy stuff. “That’s sarcasm,” as Sheldon might say.
Hope all is well with all of you.
Cheers
I Need Your Help …
Last night I couldn’t sleep, even though I took all the necessary pills to make that happen, so I got up at 0100 and went to my recliner. I had been laying there for 3 hours before giving up.
Once in my recliner, I opened my iPad, thinking I’d read a while, hoping it would make me sleepy like it usually does. Before that happened, however, an email from Linda popped up with some disturbing news about her husband, Tom. Linda is a frequent commenter on this blog and we love her and Tom dearly.
The news is that Tom went on life support about midnight last night. Among other things, he has double pneumonia and sepsis throughout his body.
I mention Tom now and then so some of you may recall that while he was recovering from a stroke, that required him to learn how to walk again, he got the hiccups. They lasted 12 days at the rate of about one every few seconds. You can imagine that he didn’t get much sleep during that time. But, he beat it. He also beat most of the debilitating effects caused by the stroke and was walking pretty darn good. At the last Portland Auto Show he, Kyle, and I, thanks to Mike, looked at pretty much every car in the joint and had a great time. Admittedly, he rode in a wheel chair because he could only walk short distances, but he disappeared on us more than once because the wheel chair didn’t have one of those flag poles on it. Jerry T was showing his custom Camaro and was with us so we were always able to recover Tom by surrounding him. We had a great time.
Tom’s hiccups came back last Friday, worse than before, and he’s been in a bad situation since which eventually put him in his current tenuous situation. He’s a fighter, and I know he can beat this. I know he wants to beat this. But, a little help wouldn’t hurt.
So, regardless of your religious beliefs, or whether you even have any, I’m asking that you please keep Tom in your thoughts. He’s a good guy and deserves this.
Thanks
Seaside, Oregon – Day 3
OK – right off the bat, the title is misleading. Sure, we woke up in Seaside, but didn’t stay long before heading north toward home. That’s probably misleading, too, but you can look at a map and figure out that St. Helens is kinda NE from Seaside. Going up Highway 101 one must go north to Astoria, East to Rainier, then south to St. Helens. It’s complicated. If we were crows it would be a much shorter trip but we aren’t so it wasn’t.
After packing everything into the Buick, we took one more walk up to the board walk to see how things were progressing. Ruth, our hostess, told us that she was the “T-Shirt Lady” for the upcoming volley ball event, that there were 126 nets installed, and the number of teams registered to play was up to 1162. She figured it would be closer to 2000 since registration didn’t close until Friday. So, I grossly over estimated how many nets there were. But, it looked like hundreds to me. Either way, Seaside is going to be jumping this weekend. Seriously.
Ruth also changed their reader board to commemorate Grams’ 86th. Here’s proof …
Oops … I was there, too …
… and, this is Ruth with the girls …
As I recall, from our previous visit to the Hillcrest Inn, Ruth and her husband, Don, met in the Marine Corps. She completed either 6 or 9 years (I can’t remember) and Don made it a career. We had some fun conversations during our first visit, but didn’t get to talk this trip. Jay, whose image I failed to capture, helped us at check-in, as did Missy. They just make the experience better. Nice crew. A great place to stay.
OK – no more plugs – that’s it …
Here’s a picture of the Seaside turnaround, the end of the Lewis & Clark Trail.
The bronze statues are rumored to be of Lewis & Clark staring off into the ocean discussing what they were going to have for dinner that night. Being terminally tired of eating fish and venison, the opted for Norma’s, only 1.5 blocks away, where they reportedly shared a Turkey of The Sea sandwich and bowl of clam chowder. That’s how old Norma’s is.
From Seaside we drove north about 6 miles to the nearest Goodwill store which Diane had her sites on. It’s in a new area of Warrenton that has been stripped of whatever used to grow there and developed into a growing mall area on both sides of Highway 101. Goodwill is on the east side of the road, just past Costco. We wandered around in Goodwill for an hour or so, and I was the only one who purchased anything. I got a bag of Nike golf balls for $5, and 18 pencils for $1.99. Seemed like a really good deal, to me.
Then it was lunchtime which brings me to what was vetoed as the potential title for today’s entry. Since we had already planned to visit Costco for their outrageously big and cheap hotdogs, and soda, the first thing that popped into my mind was Grandma Gets a Weiner. It was, although she laughed, deemed inappropriate so I didn’t use it. I suspect, however, I’ll earned a considerable amount of grief for even mentioning it. I did not, as you notice, take a picture of any of us eating lunch. They are really good, by the way. I normally get the Polish Dog, but went for the All Beef today. And a Pepsi. I was going to get vanilla yogurt and refill my cup with root beer so I could make a root beer float, but by the time I got to the counter, the yogurt machine was reportedly defunct. So, I went without.
Then we crossed the Youngs Bay Bridge, on which we had to stop because it was raised to allow a tall masted fishing boat go by. It didn’t take long. Here’s the view while we waited.
Now, first glance may cause you to think the bridge you see in the distance is the one we’re on, but that isn’t the case. The distant one is the Astoria-Megler Bridge which links Oregon and Washington. If you follow that link you’ll discover that bridge is 4.1 miles long near the mouth of the Columbia River which is 1243 miles long and originates in British Columbia, Canada. One of the memorable things about the river is Buoy 10 which is at the mouth of the Columbia. If you want excitement, that’s the place to go. If you have a tendency to get sea-sick, stay away. I spent over 1/4 of a century in the US Navy and had the opportunity to ride some pretty rough seas, but Buoy 10 is the only place I ever got sea-sick. I was miserable, but I caught a nice Silver.
Once we gained access to the other side of Youngs Bay we took a right turn before heading in to Astoria proper. Instead, we weaved our way around the back side of the hill, on which Astoria resides, and made our way up to the Astoria Column, a significant landmark in Oregon. It has a continuous ribbon of artwork wrapped around it depicting the history of the area starting in 1792. It’s literally a work of art that you can climb. Inside, of course.
Here’s what it looked like, today …
We have all visited it many, many times in the past, and have climbed the 164 steps to the tower but not today. I threatened to do it, leaving instructions to call 911 if I wasn’t back in 30 minutes. Then I just went around taking pictures of the view.
This is the Astoria-Megler Bridge going to Washington …
This is the Youngs Bay Bridge looking toward Warrenton …
After leaving the Astoria Column, we headed down the hilly streets of Astoria toward Highway 30 and home. The streets of the city rival those of San Francisco. Honest.
The trip home was uneventful and I didn’t watch any of it preferring, instead, to read my current book on my iPad. I’m reading The Witness which started out boring, but is turning into an interesting mystery.
Now it’s supper time and I must quit in order to ingest some of Diane’s very tasty beef stew in order to replace all the energy I’ve used here whacking away on my keyboard.
Cheers
Temporary Sanity ... 