Dealing With Adversity

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Today we had a terrific time visiting with new friends Nickie and Mary Louise (not their real names). I call them new friends because before today they were more like “friendly people we know.” I can say that, because it’s really true, but Diane has more of a long-term connection with them. Today, however, all that changed when they visited us so Nickie could loan me his a book … “The Frozen Shoulder Workbook” by Clair Davies, NCTMB which was published in 2006. I readily admit that I have no idea what NCTMB stands for but I’m confident they mean something important because the letters are all upper case, like MD, and unlike PhD, or Dr.

Nickie brought it to me because of the problem I’ve been having with my right shoulder and he wanted to share with me the story of his own shoulder. It was a generous thing to do and, after our visit, made me understand that it’s just the way Nickie is. I mentioned that Diane has more of a connection and that’s because her parents knew Nickie’s parents. They all lived in Warren and it’s common knowledge, in Columbia County, at least, that everyone in Warren knows each other. Part of that familiarity is due to the fact that most of the older residents are related to each other.

We visited for a long time in our living room. This is a rare event for us because that’s where the big TV is and it’s almost always on when we’re home. Sitting there, visiting, each in our own comfy chair just talking, was just great, and very informative. I got Nickie’s story and it is amazing. Not only does it involve political intrigue, it’s about overcoming incredible frustration caused by terrible medical care that’s the result of government control of an insurance company that dictates required treatment in order for someone to return to work. It’s intentionally complicated, in my opinion, in order to force patients to extract themselves by the most expedient means possible.

Nickie’s journey started with a fairly simple issue with his shoulder that escalated over a few years to a complex series of medical issues. That he’s relaxed, and pretty stress-free, speaks volumes about his fortitude. During this time, Nickie was admitted to the hospital a number of times as the result of doctor visits, and also because of emergency issues. He kept his wrist bands to document this tumultuous time in his life, and attached them to a metal ring normally used for making wreaths. He ran out of room so attached more of them to a long chain.

Maybe my words aren’t very convincing, but this should be …

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Amazing, right?

We talked through lunch and finally made a unanimous decision to go out and get something. Burgerville was the choice where we all got Tillamook Cheeseburgers. Have I ever told you how good those things are?

It was a very good, very informative day. At the end, I decided that the little pain I have in my shoulder isn’t really a big deal.

However, I’m still going to read “The Frozen Shoulder Workbook”.

He’ll Have To Go

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This morning I was on “American Idol”, for some inexplicable reason. Well, not really on the show, but going for my audition. Throughout the entire trip from the waiting room, to the that little room they lock you in before you get the call, I was first extremely perplexed about why I was auditioning because there is no way anyone who is actively conscience would mistake me for a singer.

As I was propelled, with a ‘guide’ on either side of me, holding my arms, I became less perplexed and started worrying about what I was going to sing for the Judges. My first thought was something by Fredrick Nelson because he was only 4 years older than me and I liked his songs. “Travelin Man” came to mind, perhaps because I know most of the words.

“No,” I thought, “I need something more mellow.” Then Jim Reeves popped his head up and suggested “He’ll Have To Go”, another song  that I know most of the words to. Thinking this would be a better choice, I took Jim’s advice and discarded Ricky. Maybe another day for him.

For some reason the trip to the little booth took a while so I had ample time to practice, getting my routine down pat. Toward the end of the trip I thought I was sounding pretty good, especially on those low notes. With little fanfare, I was tossed into that little room and the door slammed.

I was alone, waiting for the green light. I waited, and waited, and waited, then it finally came on. I reached for the doorknob, turned it very slowly, and pushed the door open, steeling myself to give the performance of my life, to do something I wasn’t prepared to do. Clearing my throat, I stood a little straighter, confidently pushed the door open, and marched into the bathroom.

Then I woke up.

Isn’t it funny how your brain interprets the meaning of a distended bladder, and a groaning bowel?

Once awake, I grabbed Ozzie from the bed, went to the back door and released him into the wild. Panzee and Breezie readily followed. While waiting for them to return, I staggered around the kitchen a bit, fixing the dog’s bowls of pouch food to complete their morning routine. Not being fully alert, I mistakenly put Ozzie’s in the big bowl, and Panzee’s in the small bowl. I’ve done that before, but fixed it before serving. This morning I just left it as is and let them have at it. Then I fixed a cup of day old coffee for myself, stuffed it in the microwave, and went to the bathroom to complete the morning routine.

Turns out I really did have a world-class performance to give after all. Because of that, “He’ll Have To Go” was a good choice.

Since I haven’t been taking my fibre, as directed, it took a while and I had to reheat my coffee when done.

Now I’m comfortably waiting for my next performance. Maybe I should tune up my guitar and play along with it.

That would be a nice touch.

Girls High School Softball & Chicken

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This morning, taking advantage of a dry spell, we did some more gardening around the front of the house. It’s always easier to do after it’s been raining for a while. The weeds kind of just jump into your hands, like they’re afraid of dirt all the sudden. It’s a dirty adventure, but pleasing to get things looking nicer. Still lots to do, and there always till be. Cleaning up weeds around here is a little bit like painting a bridge. As soon as it gets done, it’s time to start over.

This afternoon we went to Hillsboro Stadium to watch Lydia’s team play their second league game. Their first one was last Tuesday, which they won 6-0. Today’s battle was a little more intense with the girls making mental errors, allowing the other team to score. In the end, our girls won 12-11 so it was pretty exciting. The other team was last up, bottom of the 7th, and managed to get two runners on base with only one out. The next batter hit right to our first baseman who caught it and tagged the runner trying to get back to the  bag. Game over.

Lydia did awesome. She was 4 for 4 on the night … two doubles and two singles. On defense she’s the left fielder and claims that it’s boring. I can understand why because, so far, no one has hit that direction. But, she’s ready.

So, the Lady Lions JV team is 2-0 in league play.

For Maryssa, if you see this … tonight’s game was played on the same field at Hillsboro Stadium where you played a game after demonstrating your massive talents to a vast array of college coaches. Nice facilities.

After the game we all trekked to Home Town Buffet for dinner. I ate 5 chicken legs, a series of popcorn shrimp, corn, potatoes & gravy, and a soup bowl bull of ice cream covered with hot fudge. So much for portion control.

It was a good day.

Today’s Big Deal

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Since I am apparently one of only three people in the world who got the below offer, and I don’t have time to deal with it, I’m offering it to anyone of you who has an urge to get into a lengthy electronic conversation with someone in Cambodia. Let us all know how it turns out.

I Quote

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Jeran Daniel Lynn

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Jeran was 14-years-old the day before yesterday, the day after we got home from our trip to California and Nevada. He’s grown almost like a weed, still is, and he’s done it all by absolutely refusing to eat anything green. I don’t know if there’s a name for that kind of diet, but there should be since there are names for pretty much everything. Perhaps Antivegan would work. Or, “The GING Diet.” Yes, I like that one. That’s Green Is Not Good (unless it’s lime sherbet). He’s a meat and potatoes kind of guy, after my own heart. But, I like mine with asparagus.

From this …
jeran&dad… to this …

DSC_9633… in only  441,504,000 seconds. A mere blink of the eye, so to speak.

He’s a great kid who will one day be a great man.

Next year he will join his older siblings at St. Helens High School, from whence his Mother and Father both graduated.

A long time ago.

We’re proud of Jeran.

Home! At Last!

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Thanks to Diane’s superior driving skills, we made it home safely yesterday right around 1730. That’s the time our choice of GPS guidance systems, WAZE, told us we would be home.

Things went just great, even when I was allowed to drive for a short time, then we got to Portland. It was like LA all over again, except the traffic jam wasn’t moving at 50-60 mph. It actually came to a standstill quite often. Oh, yes. There was another stoppage on Highway 58 because a truck, filled with hospital supplies, and trinkets, apparently didn’t believe one of those critical yellow road signs warning him that the next corner was a 45 mph one. Consequently, the truck tipped over, did a really nice job on the guard rail, to the point where it looked like he could have easily continued over into the adjoining canyon. When we arrived in line, we were about 6 cars and 4 trucks behind the wreck, and only had to wait about 30 minutes for the wrecker to get the truck back on its wheels, allowing traffic to flow once again. While waiting, everyone exited their vehicles and wandered around on the normally active highway.

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There are no photos of the wrecked truck because I was driving and Diane is afraid of my camera. It scares her. So, you’ll just have to let your minds run wild with what it looked like. When we went by, the truck was in the far left lane, going our direction, against the guard rail. The back of the trailer was still attached, but there was an awful lot of daylight showing through parts of it when it looked as though it had been sliced open by a really large P-38 can opener. Just a brief glance, then we were on our way.

The normal 5 minute right through Portland took us a minimum of 30 minutes, which actually wasn’t too bad. Thankfully, we were going north on I-5 at this point, with our sights set on I-405 that loops west of the city. The vast majority of traffic was heading out of town, to the south, so we only had to fend off a slew of Washington Dwellers who were in a hurry to get home from work. It’s a daily ‘thing’.

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IMG_0272Once through, it was clear sailing all the way home on Highway 30. We just got in the slow lane, put the Buick in neutral, and got sucked along with those Columbia County Dwellers who were escaping the big city. Consequently, for the trip from Susanville, we averaged 25 mpg. Getting to I-5 over Highway 58, we averaged 28.1 mpg which is the best we’ve ever done without lying about it.

We stopped for a few necessities at Safeway, stopped to greet Diane’s Mom, Jean, then went home to let the dogs loose. They were happy to see us, but not totally destitute for attention because we have wonderful children who visit them often in our absence.

Now I must quit and do errands, and mow the lawn.

For All The Susan’s, Pizza Lovers, and Idol Fans

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We drove out of the Hilton driveway at 0900 this morning, right on time. Really. It was the time we picked to leave. I believe this is another First for us … actually right on time. On my way to get the Buick so I could stage it for loading, my new publisher friend, Paul, and his wife, Doreen, stopped to greet me on their way to play golf and ask if I got the cards her left. I hadn’t done that yet, but I did. Diane and I both find that meeting him is kind of an omen. We just don’t know what kind, yet.

We made it out of Las Vegas without mishap, which was pretty amazing, then Diane drove her 200 miles which placed us a little north of Tonopah. If you do a little math on a map, you may figure out that Tonopah is more than 200 miles from Las Vegas, but don’t tell Diane. We were looking for the Subway Sandwich shop for lunch, but drove all the way through town without seeing it. So, she pulled over to the side of the road and made us PB&J sandwiches. I got apples and our bag of grapes for dessert, Diane got peppermint patties and carrots. We were set, so I crawled into the driver’s seat, readjusted all the mirrors, the seat, and steering wheel the clawed my way back into the northbound traffic on US 395. It wasn’t too difficult because there wasn’t a lot of it.

I have to mention that while Diane was driving, we drove passed Cheech AFB and she was affected by all the UMDE fowling the air. Cheech is, perhaps, the main facility where Unmanned Drone pilots are trained. It may also be the facility from which all the overseas drones are controlled. I don’t know that, of course, but it could be true. We do know they fly drones because you can watch them takeoff and land quite often. Just like the ones you see on TV. The “E” on UMDE is for exhaust, of course. It’s probably not true that it really bothers her, but she started sneezing right about then. So, that could also be true.

I drove my allotted 200 miles, that actually worked out to about 170, then Diane exerted her authority and recaptured the driver’s seat and drove the rest of the way to Susanville. I expertly guided us to our abode for the evening, the High Country Inn. Nice facilities. Overpriced, I thought, until I paid $18 for a medium pizza that was about the size of a Papa Murphy’s small pizza. We can get their mediums for $5. Once in a while. A caveat to this is that tonight’s pizza was a pretty awesome hand-tossed piece of culinary wonderment. I ate all four of my pieces but Diane stopped at three. She has one left for breakfast, lucky duck.

Now we’re just lounging in the room watching American Idol. So far our favorites are Alex and Sam. We loved the guitars. Nice.

The Las Vegas Monorail & Jersey Boys

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Today was a perfecting ending to a very relaxing vacation.

No, wait! The perfecting ending is when we arrive home safely. That hasn’t happened, yet.

It was, however, a terrific day before we begin our grueling trip home. The decision was to make it a two-day run … about 500 miles segment. That means, of course, that I will be allowed to drive, more than once, time permitting.

Now, about today.

It started with a very nutritious breakfast of oat mill smothered in brown sugar, and a couple pieces of toast. We don’t usually eat that hearty at home because we never seem to both be up at a reasonable hour when food is necessary. A typical morning sees me with a banana and a raspberry yogurt somewhere between 0600-0730. Diane doesn’t get up until 1000 or so. By then I’m ready for lunch, but she hasn’t had breakfast, or coffee. Because of the latter, I’m not allowed to make noise until the first cup is poured. But, that’s an old story that’s been told many times previously.

After breakfast, we bundled up in our swimming suits and headed for the pool. We can see it from our window, fifteen floors down, and knew it wasn’t crowded. We selected two lounge chairs away from the crowd, composed of the other 5 people near the pool, reclined, fired up our iPads and just layer there in the shade. Yes, the shade. I’m not allowed to lay in the sun, even when I had apply spf 50 over the majority of my body. The reason is because I tend to develop little crispy spots that, left alone, can turn cancerous. So, unlike many things in my life, I’m pretty careful when it comes to the sun. Mainly I’m careful because I have Diane in my head asking if I’ve but on sunscreen, especially my little ears. Since I cannot lie to the voice in my head, I surely won’t lie to her in person, so I just do it. Admittedly, there are times when I have to say “no” and go back to make myself shiny with sunscreen.

We laid on our lounges long enough for the sun to make it’s way past the palm trees and shower us with glorious sunlight. Glorious, cancer-causing sunlight. Once I started sweating, I decided to immerse myself in the pool, just once. I stood up, sucked in my stomach, for the benefit of all those around me, and walked calmly to the stairs where I bravely stood on the first step and suppressed the urge to get right back out. It was cold. For some stupid reason, I thought it might be like Mexico where the pool is heated even though it’s 80-90 degrees outside. Silly me.

I stood there a bit, then bravely took another step, then another, until the water reached a level around the top of my swimming suit. This means, of course, that tender parts of me that like to remain warm, were now cold and making an attempt retract themselves back into my body cavity. Not all of them made it. I stood there building up my resolve to fully immerse my entire body, but it took a while. After a while, it became evident to my tender nether regions that clinging to the hope they could alter my gender was a total waste of time. So, they relaxed and descended once again to the proper place.

Then I took a breath and relaxed my legs, lowering my normally buoyant body into the water up to my neck. As soon as I could breath again, I made a few swimming-like strokes into the pool, finally getting my head wet. I had done it! I was totally wet. Objective met.

So I got back out and returned to my assigned lounge, next to Diane. I stayed there until she determined we’d been there long enough. It was that, or perhaps embarrassment because I was laying there with a towel covering all exposed parts of my body. Not normal for most people next to a swimming pool, I know, but t was comfy.

Back in the room we showered, then each ate a couple of hotdogs in preparation for an exciting end to the day. We had tickets for the Jersey Boys. We just had to arrive at least an hour early to trade our vouchers for real tickets. That meant we had to be there by 1730.

Since we chose to use public transportation for our trip to the Paris Casino, we left around 1530 to catch the monorail. It’s not a long trip, so we were at the Paris stop around 1600. From there it’s about a 1.5 mile walk through Bally’s Casino to the Paris ticket office. Getting the tickets that quickly meant we had a 2-hour wait for the doors to open so we had to entertain ourselves.

Gambling doesn’t interest us, so we found a venue with chairs situated along the main thoroughfare, bought a couple of large $6 root beers then sat there watching people for two hours. We even talked. A lot. It was good, and the time went quickly. An incredible array of people passed us by.

Finally it was almost 1800 so we extracted ourselves from the chairs and headed for the theater.

Once there, we were allowed into the area where drinks and snacks were served for enormous prices. We weren’t thirsty, after downing those 32 oz drinks, but the smell of popcorn was overpowering and I couldn’t resist. I mean, how bad could it be anyway? Well, $4 for a 32 oz cup full of popcorn. That’s not much popcorn. It disappeared quickly.

Finally the doors opened and we were admitted to the theater. Our seats were looted in row KK seats 30 & 31. That’s eleven rows from the front, about center stage. I picked them all by myself. It was a great location. We were quickly joined by a ton of other folks from all points of the globe, I’m sure.

Not being shy, I struck up a conversation with the couple to my right, in seats 28 & 29. This turned into a bit of a small world moment for us because turns out Paul is a publisher from Boston. I’ve avoided thinking, or contacting these kind of people for a very long time even though many people tell me I should write something sensible and see what happens. To me that sounds a lot like a job. But, who knows. Maybe in the half a million words I’ve shared in all these posts there really is a story.

The Jersey Boys show was absolutely incredible. One of the best we’ve ever seen. It took us both back to our school days when the Four Seasons were starting up. Great music, non-stop for almost 2 hours. Just amazing and totally recommended. The language is a bit rough, a lot of the time, but it’s like a Bruce Willis movie where you know it’s going to happen, but it seems to be OK. We loved every minute of it and were sad when it all came to an end.

After the show I talked to Paul a while about his publishing business and we ended up trading phone numbers. Since we plan to leave early in the morning, he said he’ll leave some business cards at the reception desk for us. I’m curious to see where this is going.

The monorail trip “home” was uneventful, and we sat here a bit, unwinding. Now it’s time for bed. Next news will be from Susanville, California if all things go as planned.

Basketball Playoffs

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So, now that Stanford lost, taking the Pac-12 our of the playoffs, which lady team are cheering for?

Me? I’m for UCONN. I kinda was when they played Stanford, but couldn’t admit it then.

Now for the men … since both teams were low seeds, I’m happy for both of them. I loved it when Kentucky took out whoever it was they played against, but, for family reasons, I’m compelled to give my allegiance to UCONN. Truth is, I’m just a UCONN fan.

Since Diane and I are here in Las Vegas, I need to know which teams to bet on. Give me some hints so we can go home debt free.