Hot Tub, Weed Whacking & A Water Show

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Saturday afternoon, once I got over my coffee induced nap, it was determined that I should do something around the house for a change. Specifically, attempt to resurrect our empty hot tub and make it work. before draining it a few weeks ago, it was flashing a variety of error codes at me that I had to research on the internet. One of them indicated it thought there was no water in the heater, and another one thought it was overheating. Conflicting and confusing, so I just unplugged it and drained all the water. Then, yesterday, Diane indicated that it would be good if we could use it once in a while which was code for ‘get off your butt and FIX it!’

So, I grabbed a bunch of wrenches, some screw drivers, and went down to see what I could see. Not being familiar with hot tub innards, I was in for an educational experience.

First, I removed the outer plastic pealing, revealing all the fun stuff inside, most of it covered with spray foam insulation. I was concerned about spiders because I’ve found a few pretty big ones lurking around the tub which would have just made Diane’s day had she encountered them first. She doesn’t, ever, because I’m always the first one there just for that reason. Oddly, I didn’t see one spider once the sides were removed. I was happy for that because I’m not particularly fond of them, either. I just don’t scream like a little girl when I see them, like Diane does.

I studied the tubes, hoses, and heater for a while, then decided to undo the only two screws available for me to turn. It was the cover for all the electrical connections, and the heater tube. Interesting stuff. None of it made any sense to me so I just started disconnecting things from the circuit board, and plugging them back in. It’s a trick I learned with computers – sometimes plugs get tired of being plugged in all the time and just quit working, from boredom, no doubt, and unplugging them and putting them back kinda wakes it up. Then it works. Like magic.

I put it all back together and turned it on to see what would happen and soon discovered that nothing had changed. It doesn’t heat properly and the 64 degree water wasn’t quite warm enough for Diane. I discovered, however, that running the jets, over and over, heated the water up, and eventually topped out at 84 degrees before I called it a day and went to bed.

During this time I fired up weed whacker and set about using it in the back yard. Diane gave me free reign with only one stipulation – that I pick up ‘all the crap’ I cut down on Friday afternoon. Those would be offending rhododendron branches that I just cut and left laying in the front yard. Also, there were more in the back yard, as well as clippings from an un-named kind of bush that served as a test run for my battery powered hedge trimmers that I didn’t think worked. It’s been sitting un-used in the basement for two years. Who knew?

So, I cleaned that all up, and caused little pieces of grass to fly all over the place, and discovered some new species of plants growing in our ‘flower garden’ that I didn’t know we had. It was exciting to have time to do that. It was pleasing and made me very tired. I sweat a great deal so had to take another shower. With soap this time.

We didn’t sit long before deciding it was time for bed.

This morning, on the way to church, we stopped by Dan & Jennie’s house so I could turn their water heater back on. I worked a bit on Friday and turned it off because the kids had gone camping for the weekend at Big Eddy in Vernonia. Seemed like a waste of power to have it running, especially when I was turning the water off and on. The little work I did was to make sure the sink was level and secure it firmly to the wall. Still lots more to do, but it won’t happen until Monday afternoon. That’s because I get to go to the VA in Hillsboro bright and early tomorrow morning to find out how long it’s going to be before I go completely blind. I’m told it could be many years. Maybe I just need new glasses. I’ll find out because this visit is actually my annual checkup, not for the diabetic retinopathy test results. Though I’m sure that will be discussed. More on that later as I learn more.

Just in case it’s a bad diagnosis, I’ve been practicing braille. That’s not easy to do when you can’t feel anything with most of your finger tips. Most of my practice is on bathroom doors, and the ATM drive through. Regarding that, I’ve always thought it was silly to have braille at ATM drive throughs. I mean, how could a blind person possibly find that useful? I have this vision of a blind person driving up to the ATM with, perhaps, their cane sticking out of the driver’s window, or just sticking their arm out waiting for it to hit something. Then, when that happens, they feel around until they find the braille instructions, pull out their ATM card, stick it out the window, and drop it on the ground, like I do. Then, since they are alone, they have to get out of their car and search for the card. When they find it, they don’t get back in the car, they just face the machine and reorient themselves, finding all the various openings, and swipe their card. Since the ATM doesn’t talk, they have to swipe their card both ways to ensure the magnetic strip is facing the correct direction. Again, since the ATM doesn’t talk, they have to guess at what’s on the screen, unless they signed up for, and took, the ACLU sponsored program that explains everything a blind person should know about every possible version of ATMs world wide.

Eventually, they get their money, but they have to go on faith that what they got is what they requested. ATMs are almost always honest, so it’s probably correct.

Then they get in their car and drive off, running directly into the person in front of them who didn’t find it necessary to move along like a normal person should.

OK, I know. It’s not nice to make fun of blind folks, but I’m really not. I’m making fun of ‘situations’ where someone finds it necessary to cater to their ‘needs’ even if it’s dumb. I’ll tell you right now, when I go blind, Diane’s going to do all that stuff, not me. Just like she does now. I’m not allowed to use the ATM.

After church, we went to Zhens for some great Chinese food. We love that place, and I’ve talked about it before. Today I made a suggestion to our waitress that, considering the enormous size of their portions, they should just serve it in take out containers and save the need for washing plates. The problem, however, is that, since the take home container is totally full after eating, they’d have to serve the other part on a plate, anyway. Really. Here’s proof …

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After lunch, we took a trip to the St. Helens water front to see what was going on. Happily, The Maritime Heritage Festival was still in progress, and we got to watch the waterski show. From the car.

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What fun. I got out and went down to sit with an older gentleman on the rocks. He was taking lots of pictures. I learned that he has a little shop in town where he sells postcards that have his photos on them. They are all from the Columbia County area. Gotta look this guy up and see what he’s got.

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We must have been there for an hour, or so. During that time we watched more than a few cargo ships go up and down the river, and watched the sternwheeler, Portland, sail up the Columbia, heading back home, no doubt. Very picturesque and peaceful.

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… and, here’s some of the routine traffic that transits the river past our quiet little corner of paradise …

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Thinking about comments from at least two of you, I did some research on the internet about publishing written works. There’s a lot of info out there about doing it and I’m absolutely sure most of them require a fee in association with their TGTBT offers. You don’t get that data until you provide your email address, which I didn’t. TGTBT, by the way, is my newest acronym for Too Good To Be True. It’s not original, just shorter. I’m sure there’s info out there for free, too, and I don’t have a problem with people providing information for a fee. It’s business. I might just use an Apple app I found that allows me to publish to iBooks. I’ve had it for a couple of years, so maybe it’s time to check it out.

First, however, I need something to write about. Sitting down to write a story, something with structure, is difficult. Nothing I do has structure, writing or otherwise. And I lie a lot. So, I’m limited to fiction. Being limited it difficult. Now all of this is a quandary.

The pie is done so I have to quit. It’s a cherry one. My favorite.

Coffee

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I wasn’t going to write anything this morning because my plan was to take a nap when I returned home from placing US Flags on Columbia Blvd in St. Helens. The reason for the flags is to help celebrate the Maritime Heritage Festival for the town. our Lion’s Club place the flags for all holidays and special events like this. It looks really nice to see Old Glory waving back at you as you mosey down the street. The MHF is a big deal for the village. If you’re interested about learning more, just hit the link above and you will be magically transported to our little corner of the world.

I know. You’re thinking, “What does this have to do with coffee?” In response, I would say, “not much, yet, but give me time and I’ll get there.” Honest.

Normally, after placing the flags, we stop by Sunshine Pizza for breakfast. We do this because the flag evolution begins at 0700 in the morning which is just way too early for me. True, I’m always up before that, but normal days find me deep into ‘nap mode’ by 0700. So, I had to set an alarm on my iPad. I guess I could have used my phone, but I didn’t want to. I like breakfast at SP because they have excellent breakfast sandwiches for a reasonable price. I discovered those one morning when I took Diane’s Buick to Emmert Motors for a bit of warranty work and an oil change. They’re right across the street from Sunshine and gave me a coupon for the sandwich while I waited. How nice.

I’m wandering around a little, aren’t I? Sorry.

Coffee … I’ve been drinking coffee forever and was never very particular what it tasted like. The entire time I was in the Navy, I drank it black and rarely walked past a coffee pot without refilling my cup. Never washed my cup, either. It was a ‘thing’, you know? Like, wash your cup and you lose all that flavor that took years to accumulate. Truthfully, the coffee was so bad it didn’t do any good to wash your cup, so why bother.

The one exception to this was when we were stationed in Italy. We learned to really like latte’s and espresso. We would have made it at home but didn’t have a coffee bean grinder, or the fancy machine they used to make the ones we bought.

Coffee at home, wherever we were, was always good because Diane made it. But it was still ‘fresh’ out of a can, vacuum packed for freshness. We both loved the smell when a new can was opened. It made us swoon a little, it was so fragrant. Then, after retiring from the Navy I went to work for a local company and we decided to take a trip on a cruise ship to Alaska. That did us in for coffee because cruise ship coffee is pretty darn good. Very rich flavor, and not bitter.

So, upon return from that first cruise, we purchased our first coffee bean grinder and started testing beans to see which ones we liked the best. Eventually we settled on Gavalia, which is expensive, but really good and they mail it too us. They also send us a new coffee pot once a year. How cool is that?

We always make 10 cups of coffee first thing in the morning, when it’s just the two of us, which is most of the time. Generally, there’s a cup left at the end of the day which I save for the next morning and heat in the microwave while the new pot is brewing. Unless I’m napping, that is. Then Diane makes the coffee. I normally don’t because the bean grinder is horrendously loud and I have to take it to the garage so it doesn’t wake Diane. She does that for me, too. We’re nice to each other, that way.

This morning, upon returning from my flag duties, I put my favorite creamer in one of my favorite cup, and discovered that it was going to be the last cup for that bottle of creamer. When that happens, I pour the coffee into the creamer container to ensure I get all the creamer we paid for. I swish it around and around to get the really sticky stuff off the bottom, then I pour it into the cup and stick it into the microwave to heat it up for a minute and forty seconds. I don’t pick that number. That’s what the microwave assigns for one cup of coffee.

When the little microwave dinger went off, signaling that my coffee was ready, I pulled it out and discovered something floating in it. This had never happened before so it perplexed me. Upon dipping it out with a spoon I discovered it was a small moth. “Hmmm,’ I thought. Should I really drink this or not. “I don’t know where this moth has been,” I continued. “Then again,” thought I, “it’s been thoroughly cooked in the microwave so couldn’t possibly be all that bad.”

Continuing with this line of thinking, I got out a fine mesh strainer and pour the coffee into another cup to ensure there were no legs or eyes floating around. The last thing out of the original cup was what looked like coffee grounds, neatly caught by the strainer. I couldn’t help but think that, possibly, they weren’t grounds, but moth eggs, or worse, moth crap, but there were far too many to accept that as a reasonable assumption. So, I stuck with ‘coffee grounds’ and took the cup to my nappy place on the couch to enjoy it.

As I sat there sipping away, I couldn’t help wonder about how the moth got in my cup. I know for sure it wasn’t in the cup when I started, and I’m fairly certain it wasn’t in the creamer because it’s stored in the refrigerator. So, the only way it could have inserted its way into my life was by crawling into the pot at some point during the night. I presume it fluttered to the bottom of the pot, drank a little bit, and got crazy once the caffeine took hold, and bashed his brains in by flying into the side of the pot, over and over, until it fell into the remains and drowned.

I don’t know that this is what happened, of course. It may have simply clung to the inside of the pot all night and was still alive when I poured it into my cup, and I microwaved it to death. Knowing that microwaves cook things from the inside out caused me to envision this sad little moth exploding in the cup giving credence that what I thought was coffee grounds in the bottom of the cup could indeed be moth parts of some nature. So, I returned to the sink with the cup still half full, took one final sip, and dumped it down the drain.

By this time, the new pot was done, so I got a fresh cup and returned to the couch. All of this will probably make Diane gag, especially when she discovers that the spoon I used to remove the moth from my cup is the one she uses to put sugar in hers. I guess I just won’t tell her because I’m sure the moth had been sterilized.

Hope you have a great day.

PT @ VA w/EB, TV, Dirty Knees

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Our day started early because I had another PT appointment with EB, my therapist, at the VA this morning at 0830. That means we left home at 0730 to get there on time. He works on my shoulder and it’s feeling pretty good now, so I may be done with him. Just keep doing my exercises, and the should will be OK. The thumb knuckle and elbow on the same arm are giving me sporadic fits of pain of a different nature. As Big Brother Lyle used to say, frequently, “This too shall pass.”

Too true.

After returning from the VA, Diane and I rested on the couch for an hour and a half while we watched recorded episodes of Rizzoli & Isles, one of our favorite shows, and Perception, another one of our favorite shows. We have lots of favorite shows which makes our DVR one of our favorite electronical devices in our home.

When we were finished resting, I took a trip to Matzen Street to work on The Bathroom for a bit, hoping to solve the issue with the slow drip at the new shut-off valves. I was successful and the solution was in my hands the entire time. As previously reported, I used teflon tape and thread goop without success. This time I used Plumber’s Putty and it worked great. Thank goodness.  I was seriously considering relocating to a location where plumbing wasn’t necessary in the event I couldn’t stop the leaks. Plumber’s Putty saved me a HUGE expense.

Diane is tired of looking at my ‘dirty’ knees so, being the wonderful Avon Lady that she is, obtained a tube of Apple & Honeysuckle Rejuvenating Body Polish. Body polish! Interesting. She explained the process of rubbing it on the offending knees before taking a shower. Between the lines this meant I was supposed to do it now, and go take a shower. So, I applied some to each knee and scrubbed really hard. Though fairly viscous, and really good smelling, it’s a lot like rubbing compound you might use on your car, but more gritty.

We’ll see how good it works, but I think if it does, it will take time. The dark hue of my knees was acquired between the ages of 6 and 13 when I played marbles a great deal of my free time. So much, in fact, that I was the acknowledged target for hot-shot marble players throughout my hometown of Scappoose. During my playing days, we played marbles ‘for keeps’ which means each player got to keep all the marbles he shoots out of the circle. I had lots of marbles. One of my older brother’s friends was dead set on beating me but I wound up with all his marbles, too. In case you’re interested, there is only one town/city in the world named Scappoose. I looked. Google only found one. Mine. It was a good small town in which to grow up in the 50’s. Spending all that time on my knees in the dirt, playing marbles, permanently altered the nature of my knees forever. They look dirty all the time and it’s never bothered me before because it is what it is.

I hope the Body Polish works because it might be nice to have pristine knees for a change. Or, at least knees that look clean all the time. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Now it’s time to shower the Body Polish off my knees and see if there’s a difference. Also, Diane made taco meat so I can make a plate of my custom nachos.

Homemade Dirt, Concerts, The Moon, and Hair

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I had a day off from The Bathroom so I went down to the lower 40 and trimmed the blackberry vines away from the pile of grass I’ve been collecting since 2007. The pile gets pretty tall in the spring and fall, then sinks into the ground during the winter and turns to some pretty fine homemade dirt. I trimmed the black berries back because I needed to access some of that dirt to put around the crocosmia plants for which I chipped out a couple of holes on the side hill. It’s interesting that Diane paid good money for them and when Jack saw them he asked if we wanted more because he’s removing them. So, I suspect there’s a trip to Scappoose in our future to retrieve some of them and add to our small collection. That, and to swim in the pool which is reportedly 86 degrees the last time they checked.

After the blackberry event, I took a nap to recover some of the body fluids I lost. It was about 94 degrees out there when I started and Diane didn’t think it was a good idea for me to be outside doing ‘nothing’ so when I did ‘something’ it was a problem. She was right, of course. The nap was good.

After the nap we went down to Diane’s Mom’s house for a visit. The original plan was to attend 13 Nights on the River, a St. Helens ‘thing’ where local, and not so local bands and singers give a free concert in the gazebo on the St. Helens water front. It’s a festive affair with lots of local vendors hawking their wares. There’s always food, too, and the beer garden waaaay down on the end – too far away for those participants to throw a bottle.

Tonight pianist Michael Allen Harrison, a well established entertainer in the Portland area, is the entertainment. He visits us every year for this free event. The last time we saw him it was chilly by the river and he must have played solid for about 3 hours, all from memory. When he was done he said he had to keep going to keep his fingers warm. Nice guy. Incredible pianist.

During the visit with ‘Mom’, we all chose, quickly, to skip the concert in favor of cool rooms with A/C. That gave us an opportunity to visit longer and we stayed long enough to score some cucumbers from one of her friends who stopped by. It’s good to have friends who grow vegetables. It was a good visit.

When we got home I took Panzee into the back yard and brushed the dickens out of her. This is what ‘dickens’ looks like when you’re done:

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It looks a lot like hair and fur, doesn’t it? There’s some cat hair in there, too, because Breezie showed up and let me brush her. For a long time. Hers is the darker hair you can see, if you look really close.

… and here, just for fun, is a picture the day before our moon was full, four days ago …

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… and here it is on the day it was full …

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You can tell it’s full because it’s brighter, and bigger. I actually like the orange one better.

100 Word Story

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Hi – I’m taking a lead from a new acquaintance, Damyanti, who lives, I believe, in Singapore. She writes serious, “stuff” and it’s very eloquent. She shared an excellent story, “The Shadow of Your Smile”, on her blog as an entry for a group she joined where members must share a 100 word story. After reading her entry story, I decided to write my own.

Read hers first, here: Damyantiwrites

Here’s mine – 100 words, not counting the title:

The Bug Zapper

There, in the dark, lurked the bug zapper, waiting patiently for the next bug to be lured into it’s beckoning bright blue light, but only one bug fell for the ruse, ending it’s livelihood in a frankly frightful flurry of bug bits which were scattered, mingling below with the fuzzy remnants of those who preceded it the previous day when it was raining, and the bug zapper platform provided a brief respite from the bountiful downpour before drawing them into the light, blasting them, and dropping them to the floor of the cage like the filthy dirty flies they were.

That’s exactly 100 words.

Damyanti’s is much better.

Then The Floods Came …

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Today I did something I never ever considered would be something that would have to be done. I had to use my wet dry vacuum to clean up the ceiling in ‘The Bathroom’. I can imagine what you all must be thinking, that one of the 14 new connections I made in the bathroom failed. Sounds like a lot, doesn’t it? Well, it’s not. It’s normal. It’s the perfect amount of connections. I’m sure. And, none of them ruptured or leaked.

What happened, you see, is that I had everything in place for the sinks to be connected to the water supply, but I hadn’t done the drain. That was today’s job. In order to connect the drains I had to reroute all the hoses for the water supply so they wouldn’t interfere. This involved a lot of cutting and rearranging everything, and the water supply had to be de-energized. So, your presumption, though wrong, was logical considering that I had to disconnect and reconnect everything, numerous times, to make things line up OK.

When I was finally satisfied that everything might work, I went outside and re-energized the water circuits. Upon entering the house I could hear water running and knew, immediately, that everyone would be delighted to learn that I had failed to turn off the new, unconnected faucets. All four of them were blazing away, splattering water everywhere. They have lots of water pressure in ‘That Bathroom’, believe me. I lost precious time as I turned once to go outside and turn off the water, then immediately realized I could save a lot of time, and water logging, if I just sucked it up and go into the rapidly flooding bathroom and turn off the faucets. Needless to say, I got amazingly wet.

As water dripped on me from the ceiling, I plotted my next course of action which was to bring my wet-dry shopvac back into the house and make sure it still works. It does, and I was able to suck up all the spilt water, including the water that sprayed into the hall, soaking the carpet. I was very proud of my shopvac. I used it on the ceiling, the mirror, the door, the walls, and finally the floor. You will all be happy to know the linoleum floor we installed does not leak.

You may also be glad to know that the GFI outlet works just fine. It got soaked and disconnected. That’s probably what I smelled when I got the water turned off.

I got it all cleaned up and actually got one of the sinks connected, temporarily, so it could be used. That, and I wanted to see if I could do it after all the turmoil. I could and I did.

As I write, Jeran and Gilligan are sitting behind me singing the entire Phineas and Ferb theme song, word for word. That’s what they are watching on the Man Room TV while eating Lunch. It’s 8 pm, but it’s lunch because Gilligan doesn’t like supper.

That’s my day.

Physical Therapy, Eyes, and Bathroom Sinks

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Today was filled with variety, as you can see by the title. True, I’ve had multiple things in the titles before, but those were all lies. This one is the absolute truth. Honest. It is.

Here’s what I did and I numbered them for clarity …

1. I cancelled a conflicting PT appointment with EB at the VA. I cancelled it because it was on a day that we will be in Seaside. For those not familiar with Seaside, it’s a tourist trap of a city just south of Astoria that both Diane and I have been going to visit our entire lives. It’s a fun place and, oddly enough, is situated right on the Pacific Ocean. One of the main attractions is at the foot of Broadway where there is a turnaround with a memorial marking the end of the Lewis & Clark Trail. Surely you know them. I think they were explorers of some kind. Anyway, these guys were actually in Seaside at one time. That’s true. Anyway, we’re taking Diane’s Mom, Jean, there for a few days to celebrate her 86th birthday. She’s really old, but hard to keep up with sometimes.

2. I made an optometry appointment at the VA with an unknown practitioner because the government sent me a postcard directing me to do so. This isn’t in response to my suspect diabetic retinopathy test, but rather my annual followup to see if I’m going blind for other reasons. I don’t think I am, but who knows? Maybe I am and just don’t know it. If that’s true, I will sorely miss my computer, and a whole bunch of other stuff.

3. I Kung Fooed the plumbing into place in “The Bathroom.” The pedestal sinks were temporarily mounted yesterday, a detail I forgot to share. Just for fun we’re going to mount Lydia’s sink a little higher than the boy’s to see if her OCD-ness can tell the difference. Regarding the sinks, Jeran thinks there should be three sinks because Lydia shouldn’t be the only one with a personal sink. In Lydia’s defense, she needs her own sink and she gets the one next to the wall because that’s where the plug is. Apparently she has plans to use it. The sinks were actually just propped up against the wall which made it easy to remove them so I could install the plumbing parts. I did that today. It was a challenge because I had to  cut some large chunks out of 2×4 studs so there’s an increased chance the wall may just collapse at some point. Maybe not. We’ll see. Until that happens, I trust the PEX tubing In installed will not leak. What did leak was three of the four new cut off valves, two for each sink. That was a bummer. It took a long time to convince myself to cut the supply lines, thereby making complete installation of the valves a requirement. Otherwise, the water would have remained off, no one could shower, no one could flush the toilets until the last person was done with it for the night, which would have created an iffy situation that could easily have ended with the involvement of lawyers and such. Not wanting to be responsible that kind of situation kept me going until it was water tight. I had to reinstall the valves three times to get it right. The final solution involved some incredibly gooey crap to seal up the threads. Now all that remains is to add the drains, finish the wall, and, oh ya, wainscoting. Actually, the latter aspect will simplify the process for finishing the wall.

I might have to take some pictures of the before & after to share with you. It’s been quite a process.

Man Stabs Self In Face With Corn Prong

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In a freak, one in a zillion accident, a St. Helens man stabbed himself in the face with one of the fork prongs he was using to devour a succulent ear of corn. Details are lacking due to there only being one witness who is unwilling to share them although she was sitting next to him at the time. In her defense, she was sitting to his right and the wound was inflicted on his left cheek. Even so, it’s evident she wasn’t paying attention to him.

Speaking as an uninvolved participant, I will relay what few details the victim knows. However, please understand that these details are pure fiction, like normal. That, and it happened so fast the victim isn’t really what happened. So, I’ll just make something up.

While eating a wonderful meal of halibut [a gift from a neighbor for Jerrie mowing his lawn], baked potatoes, and corn on the cob. Everything was going along just great, removing corn kernels row after row, until the incredibly sharp corn tong on the left side came loose. Due to the need for the corn prong operator to maintain pressure on both prongs, he was temporarily disoriented by something on the TV which caused him to briefly pull prongs in opposite directions, thereby removing the left prong.

Immediately recognizing the error, the victim pushed the prong back toward the corn cob. Sadly, the corn cob had swiveled out of square with the victim’s mouth. He lunged forward to grab it with his teeth thereby placing his left cheek directly in the path of the offending prong, severing a major artery through his cheek, causing massive bleeding.

With the exception of the last two items, the foregoing is the absolute truth.

Honest.

Here’s proof …

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OK. So it’s little and not really a big deal. It was so insignificant that Diane didn’t even offer to put a bandaid on it. But it still hurt, and it was a really weird thing to happen. It fits right in with the direction my life goes on a daily basis and proving that I can hurt myself with virtually anything.

Even corn prongs.

Homemade Egg Noodles & a Dead Chicken

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For those of you who know about my world-famous … well, maybe at least St. Helens famous … home-made noodles, and aren’t clamoring for the recipe, I thought I’d share it with you anyway. This is from an old blog entry I made in December 2010.

Step 1: boil up a dead chicken the day before you plan to eat it. You can try it with a live one, but I don’t recommend it. It’s really hard to pluck a live chicken. Let it cool then put it in the refrigerator in preparation for the day you want to eat it. When the day comes, remove the dead chicken from the refrigerator and demand that your wife, or husband, rip all the meat from the bones. When they refuse, do it yourself. Keep the meat, dispose of the bones. Put the meat in the refrigerator while preparing the noodles.

Step 2: decide how many folks you plan to feed. That’s really not important. I’m just trying to mess you up. My rule is six eggs, no matter how many are going to eat. If there are enough people to eat noodles made from six eggs, you have too many people there. Today we fed 7 people and had plenty left over for tomorrow. Again, I ate twice. Like normal. Tomorrow I’ll do it again. No doubt.

So, you take your six eggs and break them into a fairly medium bowl. After picking out the little tiny bits of shell, take a salt shaker and put a thin layer of salt on each yolk. Removing the shell pieces really isn’t necessary, but it’s the right thing to do. Take the bowl to the sink, turn the faucet on low and quickly pass the bowl under the stream. You want some water, but definitely not too much. I’ve always pretended that my method of getting water in the bowl works out to a couple of tablespoons. The speed used to pass the bowl under the running faucet is crucial.

Step 3: using whatever you want, beat the hell out of the eggs until they are foamy. Doing this makes it a religious experience, suitable for Sunday. Once you’ve achieved a foaminess that pleases you, start adding flour, and mixing it in with the eggs. Keep doing this until it’s an absolutely sticky mess. Then add some more flour and keep mixing. When you get it to the point where poking your finger into it leaves a dent, but your finger doesn’t come out sticky, roll the mixture out onto the rolling surface that you prepared before step one. I know, I didn’t tell you about that but, really, you should have anticipated it. I use a Tupperware rolling sheet and an old fashion rolling-pin.

Step 4: before dumping the mixture onto the rolling surface remove between 2-3 cups of flour and dump it onto the middle of your rolling surface. Then dump the mixture and pour some more flour on top of it. Knead it like bread until it’s to the point where you can roll it out with your rolling-pin and it will pull back a little.

Step 5: Keep rolling it and flouring it, making sure it doesn’t stick to the rolling surface or the rolling pin. Roll it out until it’s about 1/8 of an inch thick. I guarantee that it will roll beyond the boundaries of the rolling surface. Sometimes I cut it in half to do the rolling but today I put a large piece of cardboard, that I found in the garage, under the rolling surface and it worked great! I didn’t get any flour on the floor like I usually do. Didn’t get any grease in the noodles, either.

Step 6: if your wife will let you, get a very sharp instrument that you will need to cut the rolled out dough into noodles. Sometimes I use the “everything cutter” that we’ve had for years. Most people call it a pizza cutter, but I cut all kinds of food with it for the kidlets, like pancakes, waffles, sausage, noodles, and pizza. It takes a little while to whittle out noodles with this tool, but there’s not a chance anyone would accuse you of buying the noodles because I guarantee they will not be uniform in size. That’s ok. If you have a multi-bladed noodle cutter, like I do, use that. It’s much quicker and doesn’t cut as deep when you get a finger in the way.

Step 7: separate the cut noodles, mixing in the flour. Add more flour, if you want, then leave them alone in a pile to rest. You can cover them with something if you want, but I never bother with that. I used to but no longer have the patience to wrap each noodle in it’s own little blanket. Takes too long, so now I just toss one of the kitchen towels, that we’ve been using to dry our hands, over them. If you chose this covering method, make sure it’s not real damp. There’s nothing worse than damp noodles.

Step 8: while the noodles are resting, heat up the broth you obtained while boiling the dead chicken. If you didn’t keep it, that’s OK because it never tastes very good anyway. If you did, add a bunch of chicken bullion, or something similar, to the water, or broth, and heat it up to a rolling boil. Add the bouillon until it tastes really good to you. No one else matters on this step. You’re the cook so please yourself.

Step 9: once you have it tasting, and boiling properly, add the noodles, flour and all. You’ll need to stir the noodles right away to separate them, making sure they don’t cook up in one huge lump. If that happens, just call it a dumpling and no one will know. Assuming you get them separated, and it’s boiling good, lower the heat and let it slowly boil, stirring once in a while to move them around. Check them once in a while, after about 15 minutes, to see if they’re done. For that part of this step, keep some Blistex handy because you will burn your lips and tongue. Every time. An alternative is to have one of the kids check doneness. You can only do this once because the second time you try, I’ve discovered, the police get involved.

Step 10: add the dead chicken to the noodles, stir it in and turn the heat off. Cover the pan with a lid, a plate, or another pan.

Step 11: make some mashed potatoes while the noodles are boiling. We always use instant because they are quick and we don’t want to wait.

Once the noodles are done, the broth will be thick like gravy which makes it perfect for putting on top of mashed potatoes. Before adding noodles, put at least 2 tablespoons of butter on the potatoes. This gives the plate a little color as the melted butter seeps out from under the noodles. It’s kind of like the noodles are squeezing the innards out of the potatoes which makes it fun for the kids.

It’s simple and, so far, everyone loves it. I suspect it’s fattening, too, but who cares?

My Thumb, Ozzie, Home Improvement, & Thanks

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I’ve decided that my thumb must be sprained. One of those kinds of sprains that don’t swell up, or turn a nice blue color, and you have no proof that anything is bent. So, when not wearing my thumb brace, I’m considering adding a couple of band aids so people will know something’s wrong. I don’t think I’ve used up all the cool Spider Man band aids Diane bought me last year. They are quite festive and really highlight an injury.

Ozzie has decided that it’s OK to start playing again. It’s been a long time since he’s chased anything and we’ve been worried. He also doesn’t spend most of his time in his kennel which we thought was his new ‘normal’. I think it’s because he’s lost some weight. He got a little bit porky when I was feeding him an entire pouch of food every morning but I had to quit when his hair stylist told me he was getting fat. He really was. I think he was up to 10 pounds which is about 3-4 pounds too much for him. So, I dropped back to 1/2 a pouch each morning and over the last year he’s trimmed down very slowly and once again has a waist you can see. And he’s playing again.

It’s funny to watch him and I’d post a video, if I knew how. He stands and stares at his chosen toy for a bit, darts at it, nipping, then jumping back as he spins in a circle. He does this over and over until he actually nabs the toy and during the spin launches it like a discus thrower. Funny to watch because when he does this he has no idea where the toy goes so has to go hunting. Sometimes he flings it clear over the couch. It really annoys Panzee to see him having fun again.

This morning we made a trip to Longview, Washington to purchase more components needed to re-plumb ‘the bathroom’. I have a vision in my head about how it’s going to work, and I even drew it on paper. The paper version doesn’t look anything like the one in my head. So, we went to Lowes where I stood in the PEX connector isle visualizing, and checking all the hundreds of choices to see which ones I think will work. I wound up with 30 separate connectors that will be needed to split input and drain lines for one sink into two inputs and drains for two sinks. Amazing. I will, of course, keep all of you, who I know are sitting on the edge of your chairs, apprised of my progress.

Since today was Sunday, and we were in Longview, we ate a Sizzler where we all ate dead chicken. It was very good, like normal. Our plate remover person was Maranda. She was handsomely tipped for her efforts and winning smile. I went online and gave her a very good review.

Every day I’m amazed at the variety of people who visit this blog. I know that my titles have something to do with their curiosity, but having them visit provide an opportunity for me to visit their blogs. It’s all very enlightening for me. I enjoy it very much. To date, people from 34 different countries have looked at some of my entries.

Some more than once.

The majority, of course, are those of you who are bonded to me by blood or long-term friendship. I appreciate your time, too, even if you only check in to see what portion of my body I’ve damaged since my last entry – kinda like going to a car race hoping to see something exciting, but denying that you’re there to see the wrecks. Personally, I’m there for the wrecks, except when I’m working on a pit crew, which I’ve been known to do.

Perhaps you can tell, of you’ve read this far, that I really don’t have much to share, so I’m rambling. If Diane was reading over my shoulder, which she hates to have me do to her, she’d tell me, “Jerrie, just stop. You’re not making any sense.” I hear that a lot.

I will take that advice now, with a sincere thanks to you all.

You make my day.