Lady Lions vs. Lady Indians

That’s what’s written on the shirts Diane and I wear to Lydia’s soccer games. The shirts also have her number on them. It’s # 1. That’s what Diane and wore this afternoon to the latest game. We have to keep watching because we’re right on the verge of figuring out what some of the rules are even though we don’t agree with them.

Before going there, however, I’m happy to report that Lydia’s nose had a miraculous recovery last night. Yesterday, her team mates told her she needed to put ice on it so it wouldn’t look so bad and scare the Scappoose girls today. She must have done something, or else she also has the ‘Amazing Healing Gene’ with which I’ve been blessed because it doesn’t look bad today.

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Instead of recapping the entire game, I’m just going to share a few photos I took with my magnificent camera with my magnificent telephoto lens. I can’t share all of them because the magnificent auto focus mechanism failed to function properly, no doubt, to the inability of the operator to set the various speed and aperture aspects which would elicit optimum photographic evidence of what was transpiring before him. Yes, all of that is true. The fuzzy photos were caused totally by operator error. So, you only get to see those that are at least in semi-focus.

First, what does the football team do while on the way to their locker room after their practice terminates?

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This one is for Sharmel. Her daughter is Laurel, #2 for Scappoose. We’ve known Sharmel for many, many, many years, and Laurel for most of her life. We do not mind that Laurel attend Scappoose High School at all because both Diane and I did, too.

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Next is one of Lydia duking it out with a frisky Scappoose Indian. It almost looks like they’re dancing, doesn’t it? Far from it. I believe right after this photo was taken, Lydia dropped the other girl like an autumn leaf then jumped in her stomach with abandon. That, of course, didn’t happen. Lydia has been known to knock other girls down, but she never jumps in their stomachs.

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While the soccer game was in progress, other members of the human race who have meaning for Lydia were frolicking in the top row of the bleachers. That’s Cedric, Lydia’s big brother, running off with the football that he just liberated from Chris who is sitting to Jacob’s right. They are both Cedric’s friends, all are sophomores, but Chris is more meaningful to Lydia than either of the other two.

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Here’re the Lady Lions taking their victory sprint across the field toward the bleachers after winning 2-0. It was a good game and fun to watch. We sat with Jennifer, Lydia’s Mommy, for the entire game.

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Now, about soccer rules … what’s the deal that the ball can roll right down the out-of-bounds line, but not be out-of-bounds. AND, the players can run out-of-bounds to kick the ball off the line with no fear of penalty. What’ that about? I mean, out-of-bounds is out-of-bounds. I guess when you only have one old guy in a yellow shirt, and jaunty black shorts, running down the middle of the field with a whistle that apparently doesn’t work, the girls can pretty much call the shots. All they have to do is just wait for the old guy to take one of his elongated blink, and they’re safe.

I must share a bit of crowd activity about which I heard after the game that involved a zealous Lady Lion Mom, not Jennifer, and the father of a Lady Scappoose Indian … the Mother was very loud in her vocal admonishment of Lions allowing Indians to push them around without pushing back a little themselves. The Mom confided in us, on the way out, that the Father displayed an inordinate level of assininity. A new word for me which I just love. I’ve never heard that one before and had to share it. I know that a new word because my spell checker didn’t recognize it.

That’s it …

Diane’s Hair, Fire, Golf, Mechanical Stuff, and Food

First, here’s Diane’s new hairdo for those of you who requested it. It’s kinda like the picture I took in Hawaii and included with the tiki torch entry. I like it. I tell her that, but I’m not sure she believes me. What do you think?

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Now, about Jerrie the arsonist, the golfer, the mechanic, and elctronical wizard – what a package!

On Thursday, the burn pile was reduced to a pretty flat mess of ashes. That would be the grey matter in the middle of the picture. The raised areas around it are grass clippings, which we are not allowed to burn. Before igniting the pile, it was tall enough, from this angle, to hide the clippings pile, and it was that tall all the way across. I stood out there for four hours monitoring the progress, moving things around, getting burnt here and there, and inhaled more than my share of smoke. It burned my eyes and my nose, but I hung in there and did my job. The neighbors, to the left, lit their burn pile, also, but our pile went away first.

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Now, about golfing – Junior, Doug, and I are 1962 graduate of Scappoose Union High School. We weren’t the only three, of course, but we three see each other more often than the other 70+ remaining members of that class. That officially makes us old since we are well beyond the 50 mark, the point where many young people think we should be put out to pasture, so to speak, and we take that literally because we golf in St. Helens on a course that Jimbo would agree would be better served as a pasture. There are mole hills to contend with, and lost balls in the fairway because of deep grass, or simply deep mud, but it works for us. We have fun. Jimbo, by the way, is also a ’62 graduate, but he lives all the way over in Lake Oswego so we don’t get to see him very often.

Doug is the better golfer of the three of us, but Junior can whip him once in a while. I never do that. I’m just out there to whack a ball, and have a nice conversation while looking for it. We almost always find it, but not always. It doesn’t matter because pretty much all the balls I use were donated by golfers who went before me and we seem to usually come out ahead

Junior watches the golf channel all the time and is just full of little tidbits about how to golf better. Just enough to screw up anyone he’s golfing with, me especially. I don’t mind, because I’m not all that serious about golfing. For me, a round of golf is just a nice walk in the woods. Really. If there’s a tree around, I’ll wind up behind it. Because of that, I’ve adopted the attitude that I can hit my ball over, or through, any tree that’s in my way. Sometimes it works.

Here’s a picture of Junior, from yesterday, hitting his ball again from the same spot because he hit the sign you see a little ways in front of him. The sign was in his way and he made an impressive dent in the metal sign at the bottom right corner. You can actually see how it’s bent from the way it sits. We reviewed our rule book and determined that the sign was at fault, so retrieved his ricocheted ball from the middle of the fairway, put it in its original spot, and moved the sign to the right side of the cart path, away from Junior’s projected flight path.. The second effort was much better and I think we agreed that he parred the hole. Our rule book is better than the one other golfers use.

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After I got home I decided to make myself a sandwich before Diane texted me about it. It’s always good when I can beat her to the punch once in a while. The choice for the sandwich was ham and cheese. Not wanting to open a brand new loaf of cheese, I chose to alter the configuration of the little left over cheese chunks, that we cut up for coffee hour last Sunday, by slicing them a little thinner. This is the good Tillamook cheddar cheese which I prefer to the Kraft peel-n-stick American Cheese Food that’s actually pretty good in a grilled cheese scenario.

Here’s a photographic progression of how I made that sandwich …

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decided to tackle the broken RV so I could get it back into the driveway. This entailed removing the broken mechanical fuel pump to see if it was at least close to the one that came with the ’73. It was a minor miracle that it was, indeed, exactly like the one I needed. Funny, though, because it isn’t the right kind for the ’73. Funny how things work.

Once it was installed, I removed the electric fuel pump, which I determined just wasn’t cutting it, and was blessed with ignition. From this exercise, it’s readily evident that mechanical fuel pumps suck more than electric ones. It sucks better than the electric one I had, anyway. So, the RV is back in the driveway where it belongs. It’s still not leaking, either, though there were torrential downpours off and on all day yesterday.

Since the motor home was handled more quickly than I had anticipated, we decided to drive to Hillsboro to visit Best Buy and retrieve my new iPad which they reported had been received. I had an appointment with one of their Geeks at 1700 to make the switch. We went directly home from there, arriving shortly before the rains came. Rick and Jodi, and Tom and Linda will probably object to the fact that we were that close and didn’t stop and say Hi. Little do they know that when we visit Hillsboro, we drive by their houses at least twice, to see if anyone is looking. If no one charges out of the house on the second trip, we presume no one is there, and continue on our way. Yes, we could call, but choose to use the visual method of contact which is a bit more of a challenge.

That’s a lie. We don’t do drive bys. We should have called. Forgive us.

The new iPad proved to be an electronical challenge. That was mostly because of the Apple ID’s that are necessary to do back ups and restores. So, the back up I thought I had locked down, just kinda disappeared on me so I set the pad up as a new one instead. That means I had to remember all kinds of passwords and things that will make it work like it’s supposed to. Right now it’s wi-fi only which saves a buck or nine on fees, and I think I’m going to leave it that way.

For supper Diane made a terrific meal of re-purposed chicken parts that were formed into cute little sticks then covered with a lot of breading. Baked in the oven, from a frozen state, they do the job of filling the void and they are simple to fix. She also fixed frozen mac and cheese that didn’t turn out so well. I ate all of mine because I love my wife. I also got two ears of corn on the cob, cooked a few days ago, and reheated in the micro. Tasted just as good as if they were fresh. Here’s that meal …

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Yes – both plates are mine. I admit it, I’m a pig.

Today I finished the church newsletter and Diane and I went out and cleaned the church up a bit. Mainly, I scrubbed up all the wine stains around the altar where people seem to have a little problem getting those tiny little cups up to their mouths. I may be guilty, too, but don’t have any memory of dripping wine on the carpet. What makes it more interesting is that the red wine stains are on a red carpet. You’d think the spots would just disappear, wouldn’t you? Doesn’t happen.

Now it’s getting on to dusk and I need to consider packing a suit case. Diane’s already done. She packed our coffee grinder in with her underwear. I told her I’d wrap it up in my skivvies, but she declined. I actually didn’t offer to do that, and I don’t know if it’s with her underwear. I’m just guessing.

Now I’m gonna quit and finish watching today’s football game. While doing this I watched the Oregon State Beavers decimate Colorado 44-11. In a little while I get to watch the Oregon Ducks play the Cal State Bears, I think. It will be interesting to see if Oregon continues it’s march to #1. this will be the Pac-12 opener for both teams.