Where do the days go? I don’t know why I said that because I actually know the answer … they all turn into ‘yesterdays’. Every last one of them.

I didn’t get to mow the yard again today. Didn’t get to mow it yesterday, either. Or the day before. It’s to that point in the year we hit just before spring every year where the sun jumps up, makes all the dafodils raise their heads to see what’s going on, makes the trees take on a green haze with the promise of leaves, encourages grass to grow like crazy, then runs and hides behind a seemingly never ending shroud of clouds. And the rain comes in buckets, drenching everything in sight. Then the wind comes up and a cold front drops in from the north, the freezing level drops to 500 feet at night for about a week, and it’s just miserable going outside. That sounds suspiciously like a complaint, I know, but it’s really only reporting the truth. The weather is a mess, the grass grows, but never really gets dry enough to mow until it’s a foot tall.

OK – it’s a complaint but I offer it mainly in the form of an observation and the knowledge that we, unlike other climes, can make it through most winters with no fear of the need to run out and purchase a snow shovel because we don’t know where the old one is.

Unlike previous years, our driveway isn’t flooded with the torrential rains, and it isn’t creeping into the garage, because I dug that ditch and installed a drain system. Not the best, but it works.

Today we surrendered our bedroom windows to the glass folks at Willamese to get new panes made. As you may recall, I managed to fracture all four of them during the arduous task of refinishing the frames. We get them back tomorrow. Now all I need to do it get all the baseboards finished … finished, as in varnished. Then we can do the floors. At this point, all we plan to do is apply paste wax and buff it to the point slipping and falling is guaranteed. Unless we cover it with area rugs. Which we will do.

I actually wrote all that yesterday but didn’t send it because i figured I should edit it a little. Today, however, I don’t feel that need so I’m just going to send it along.

Haven’t heard anything from Minnesota or Connecticut for a while, so hope everything is OK in those foreign countries. I suspect both areas are still reeling from the mess of snow they’ve had over the past couple of months.

I spent most of today sanding baseboard pieces. Wore me out. Now I’m going to quit.

Maith ar maidin to you all on this glorious day. That’s Gaelic, in case you were wondering. I suspect you can figure out what it means, but click the link to make sure I got it right. I can say stuff like that because it’s my understanding that part of me is Irish. Sadly, I don’t know what part. Most parts are German.

It’s right at 32 degrees here but I think it’s going to get up to about 60 before the day is done. But, rain is in the forecast so it probably won’t be a good day for outside activities. That means I won’t be able to mow the yard, which desparately needs it. It’s had a taste of the sun and is growing profusely, wanting more. If I don’t get to it in the next couple of days it’s going to be a job instead of fun like it normally is.

Diane’s up and looking chipper. Every day she’s a little bit better and we’re thankful for that. Shingles aren’t fun, for anyone.

Yesterday, after redoing the window frames with their new coats of polyurethane, I removed her failing computer and replaced it with her new Windows 8 touch screen. While watching her fiddle around with it I recalled the first time I tried to get her interested in working with a computer. At that time she was so not interested, and she got a little testy because she thought I was spending too much time on mine. Once she stepped over that line, however, and discovered the power at her fingertips, she was hooked for life. If I ever lose track of her, I just go to the Man Room and there she is. Looking at ‘stuff’, or hammering away on her keyboard in response to one of the 50-60 emails she gets every day.

Now the world has changed again for her with Windows 8. She’s taking it well.

The cat is on the deck, scratching the patio door glass to get in. What an annoying noise that is. But, it gets the results she seeks.

Now I have an hour to sit for a bit before we head off to church. Coffee Hour today is going to be a Baked Potato Bar so we won’t have to figure out anything for lunch. That’s good because I was afraid Diane was going to ask me what I wanted for lunch and I’d have to think of something to eat which is always difficult for me because I could get by on cheese and crackers for every meal, if necessary. She frowns on that choice as a meal.

So, now I’ll leave you with a slán Fond. Find something green to wear and have a great  day.

Beannacht do anois

Remember a few blogs ago, where I mentioned that Diane thought I was losing my mind because I couldn’t remember anything? Remember that? Well, I just remembered that, during this time, I remembed a critical lesson about how to deal with  blackberry bushes. But, first, I don’t understand why they are called ‘bushes’ because that doesn’t sound very descriptive to me. They are actually very sharp, clingy vines that can only be killed by radiation. They should be called blackberry clingy scratchers, or something like that.

Anyway, what I remembered, as I was ripping them out of the ground, and throwing vines everywhere, is that it’s not a good idea to wear shorts and short sleeve shirts. Boots are a good idea, too. Get anywhere near a blackberry vine and it’s gonna leave a mark. Honestly.

I checked on line to see if ‘blackberry bushes’ was indeed what they are called, although that’s what I’ve called them my entire life, and came up with a number of web sites that actually sell them, 6 for $30. Nice. And here I was ripping them out of the ground, willy nilly. You’d think I would feel bad about that, but I don’t because no matter how much of it you rip out, it will grow back. Guaranteed. Damn blackberry bushes. When sold on line they call them ‘blackberry plants’. I suspect our wild, free blackberries taste just as good as the $30 variety, but ours can’t compete with the Kiowa Blackberry for size. Those things are enormous.

I may have mentioned that our refurbishing project is now on room two – the master bedroom. All that’s left to be done is the baseboards, floors, and windows. I’ve got the windows in the basement where I removed the glass from all four panes. They came out in about 40 pieces so now I’ll have to take them to Scappoose to get glass. I don’t know what happened – only two of them were broken when I started removing the glazing then, all the sudden, all four of them were broken before I knew what happened. Now that the glass is out, it will be simple to refinish them. I’ve scraped most of the paint and varnish off (paint on the outside, varhish on the inside), so it won’t be long before I’ll need the glass. Baseboards are going to be interesting because I’ll get to use my new saw. I haven’t even plugged it in, yet.

Before I plug it in, I’ll have to set all the angles to ensure it cuts square at all angles. And it can cut a log of different angles. I know that’s true because I read the manual. Didn’t understand all of it, but I read it, just the same. OK. I read most of it and skimmed the rest, but there were a bunch of angles displayed in one of the diagrams. It has to be true.

I forgot to shave again this morning. That’s the 52 day in a row. That’s one thing Diane wishes I’d remember to do. I know that’s true, too, because she told me. But, she’s quit complaining how poky my whiskers are so she’s either getting used to them, or they are actually getting soft. I spend a lot of time combing my face, now. Feels good.

Guess I better quit. I decided at the start if it got down to combing my face I was out of interesting things to share.

Sheryl passed away yesterday. We were high school classmates and she is one of only three girls who ever asked me out on a date for something other than a Sadie Hawkins Day dance. It was a hay ride with a bunch of other kids, so maybe it wasn’t technically a date, but I’m going to count it as one. There were other dates after that but the hayride is stuck in long term memory.

We were both freshman and I was scared to death of girls. It’s surprising that I agreed to go. But I did, and had a great time. Years later, at one of our high school reunions, we talked about that hayride and I learned that she, too, was scared. We laughed and talked about the different paths our lives took through high school and beyond.

Sheryl had severe medical problems the last few years and it was hard to watch her decline, but always good to see her. We remained friends over the years and I’m happy for that.

Whenever I think of Sheryl, or hear her name, my mind takes me back to that hay wagon when we were both 14, and it was so good to be alive.

And I smile.

That’s the way I’ll remember Sheryl.

Diane’s microwave is pretty smart. I’ve been fascinated with it from the day we bought it when we moved into this house 7 years ago. In the last two years, since I finally retired, I’ve had opportunities to explore the various settings which cover pretty much any form of cooking one might want to do. Before I retired I really didn’t have time to figure it out so relied on Diane to figure out all the possibilities. Being a very clever person, and more of a techie than she’s comfortable to admit, she is well versed in it’s possibilities. Mainly, I use the settings that allow me to reheat ‘stuff’, like “one meal”, or “one cup of coffee”, things like that. Simple settings.

Sometimes I dare to just set it for a certain amount of time, like I’ve done for hotdogs since day one. Usually I just stuff the hotdog in the bun, set it for 25 seconds, and it comes out perfect. That length of time is perfect to heat up the hotdog without turning the bun into an overly chewy mess.

Diane doesn’t like her hotdog heated up in the bun. Instead, she does the hotdog first, then puts it in a bun, covers it with cheese, and sticks it back in the micro for 10-15 seconds. If that isn’t bad enough, when she takes it out she puts ketchup on it. That should be illegal. You should have to put mustard on all hotdogs. Ketchup is just wrong in so many ways. Ketchup is for steaks and shrimp.

I digress … sorry …

Today after church we took Diane’s mom, Jean, to Zhen’s, formerly the Lucky Inn, for one of their incredibly huge meals. Diane had a craving. Like normal, each plate is enough to feed three people. All of us ate sparingly, boxed the rest, then returned to our house to digest all of it and wait for the post-Chinese-food-hunger-pangs to set in. The ride home took us to downtown St. Helens, by the river where we discovered Lydia, and her friend Ravyn, calmly avoiding what they described as a “creepy guy” down by the gazeebo. Odd to find her this far from home. Lydia said they were waiting for another one of their friends, but he was late.

Once home, Diane and Mom watched the ‘Red Widow’ pilot which was saved to the DVR. I already watched it during one or more session of American Idol, or one of many different shows from HGTV which are also captured on the DVR.

Since it was a two-hour episode, the Chinese food had plenty of time to clear the upper reaches of our digestive tracts, making room for something new and tasty. I suggested hotdogs which was a unanimous choice. So, I removed a new package of Hebrew National hotdogs (7 to a pack) from the referigerator, and a new package of buns from the bread drawer (8 to a pack), and set about the task of figuring out how to heat them up.

At this point, I must point out that both Diane and I refer to the various settings on the micro as “buttons”, like those commonly found on a smart phone. They are all menu items in memory, but you have to “push” a button on the screen to activate it. We have popcorn buttons, the aforementioned coffee button, the meal button, the melt cheese button, etc. So, it may not be a surprise to you that, after deciding to see about cooking the hotdogs, I stumbled across a “two weenie” button.

To me, that was just phenominal! Diane’s microwave has a two weenie button! Who knew?

It took me some time to digest that discovery. I think she secretly knew about it but was keeping it secret from me. She denied it, however, when I accused her of doing that. Can’t say I blame her because I would have denied it, too. I mean, c’mon! A two weenie button. Who would’ve believed that? But, I never would have found if without her help. Oddly, it is under the “Meat” menu which I find odd because everyone knows hotdogs aren’t meat. They may look like meat, but they really aren’t.

Jennie, Cedric, Lydia, and Jeran stopped by after we finished our weenies so Jen could get the booster seat to use for her niece, Lexie, whom she babysits. Jennie loves babies. Given half a chance, she would have had 15 kids. It’s all about the smell, I’m told. The clean baby smell, not the dirty one.

Moving on, spring is over until next week. After two days of glorious sunshine and dry weather the moisture has returned. To combat that I’ve made yesterday’s picture of Panzee my wall paper so that I, like Ruth, can see what better times will look like. I think spring will return in a week or so.

Panzee and Ozzie alerted to a strange noise a few minutes ago on the back porch. I got up to look and blinded a lone raccoon when I hit the floods. It was pilfering the outside cat dish which I had failed to bring inside. It ignored me until I rapped on the window, then it ran down the steps. I gave it a five second head start then let Panzee out. After I was sure the raccoon was safely over the fence, I let little yappy Ozzie joing the chase.

It was a delightful end to a day filled with exciting events and new discoveries.

… at least for a little while.

Yesterday I mowed our front yard again for two reasons – 1) just because I could, and 2) it grew an inch since I mowed it the last time. I also mowed the neighbor’s yard. It was a gorgeous day in the Great North West and good to be outside. Although the temp dipped to freezing at night, it popped right back up into the 60’s, perfect for shorts and a lawnmower.

Another reason I mowed was so I could take a picture for Ruth and give her a notion of what her yard will look like once her snow melts.

This is Panzee enjoying the short grass in our front yard … that’s Mt. Hood in the back.

After mowing the lawn I cleaned up and went next door to work on Muriel’s computer for the fourth time. Her only complaint is that she can’t send email, but she can receive it. Perplexing. I was there until almost 7 pm which is really 8 pm since we had to Spring Forward last night. The next time I go there I’m going to reformat her hard drive with prejudice, wiping out everything contained thereon, starting over from scratch. First, however, I must rescue her photos and address book.

I hear Diane stirring so it’s time for me to look busy.