Tuesday with Jack

I rose late, nearer to 9 than my 6. I had woken at 3 and 4 and was uncomfortable, but finally slept in the bright light that has been visiting Oregon this May. Never has it happened before in my memory. My roses are usually drowning with huge blooms that melt in the gray and rain. But this year, we seem to have moved to California, and my roses are covered in near-perfect blooms, some so heavy the canes are drifting to the ground.

I managed to find my focus and write a short blog about Monday on Tuesday morning. The coffee was waiting for me, the automatic turn-off already thrown, and the pot slowly cooling. I do my usual updates and text Deborah a few times, as she is working from home today since her sprinklers are being serviced for the summer. I manually water the plants and let the lawn go brown — water costs are high in Oregon. The roses survive the summer, being more like weeds, and any planting has to survive being ignored or my travels.

I heard from Jack and he asked me to join him shopping for shirts and maybe a sports coat. We agree that he will pick me up at 2ish. I finished up, showered, shaved, and dressed. I had a NYC bagel (thanks, Joyce) with lox for breakfast, along with coffee, before I did all that.

I managed to scrape the tree topper, my second try, from the printing plate without breaking it or dropping it. I then washed it in the misty alcohol. My shipment of 99% pure rubbing alcohol has not arrived yet. I managed to wash it and let it dry for a while.

The print showed lines in the structure that moved in about 1/2 mm, creating a stripe in the structure. I have read that this is due to the movement of the print, known as wobble, and that I may need to adjust the tree topper print to be at an angle and add more structure to it. This will stabilize the print and remove these unslightly marks. The base was also printed strongly this time, and the inside was blocked by this. This kept alcohol and the resin, which are toxic, still inside. Soon, my bare hands were full of resin. Yikes! I will have to do the work to remove the structure in the garage in gloves, a mask, and other protective gear. More leanings. I managed to chip the base as I had to cut the base out of the supportive base. Humm. This is really looking like an angle print as I described above. I cured the star and recovered the chips. I also handled the previous print, and one part did not glue properly. I will try again. I may have to move to a two-part, stronger glue. I will try again with the jeweler’s cement. The material may be too powdery to join this way. Hmmm. More learning.

With that mess cleaned up. Ugh! I headed out for a quick lunch. I picked Popeye’s nearby and had three pieces of a caloric disaster, but lots of protein. The fried biscuit was terrific, as was the Cajun gravy on industrial whipped potatoes. I had spicy food and could taste it. I was happy to taste most of it.

It has been about a year since my recovery from brain surgery on May 20, 2024. My tastes have been off since the doctors had to salvage my nerves that control the left side of my face, eye, taste, and swallowing. I am happy to blink my left eye, taste the bitter liberal coffee, and swallow. Eating cheap fried chicken is a bonus!

Jack arrived a few moments early, and soon I was whisked away in his older model BMW four-door. While I am liberal, I believe that maintaining a gasoline-powered vehicle is taking advantage of the already sunk costs of the petroleum-based infrastructure. And we look cool.

JCPenney’s was our only stop at the Washington Square Mall. Their men’s shop (with none of the salesmen I remember selling me a suit — it’s now self-service only) is still full of decent choices and seems to be waiting for the friendly men to come back and sell us a suit. I missed them. However, we still found excellent choices of dress shirts, and Jack soon had me loaded up with five. There was no gray wool jacket, but we did try and found that Jack matches a standard size. Something that never happens to me. Only a few items were on sale. I was tempted to try on a suit, but I have three new ones that no longer fit. No reason to add to that!

Jack was offered a JCPenney’s credit card and got a discount. He will be back to check out some ties. With Jack’s goods safe in the BMW’s trunk, we headed to The 649. We crossed Beaverton again in heavy after-school traffic, a mess with buses and soccer moms/dads driving like insane people. Crystal was bartending and making some fantastic drinks. One was an espresso martini, and I told them that it is a new favorite of Deborah’s. We had beers and sat outside, chatting, and missed Happy Hour food (which ends at 4:30 on weekdays).

Jack got me home without incident (though my credit card disappeared somewhere between the beer and home; I failed to put it back in my wallet, F**K). I made baked chicken thighs with Moroccan-style spices plus salt and pepper. I heated a jar of the North African couscous sauce. I heated a pack of nuts, raisins, and dried cranberries from Trader Joe’s with Garam Masala and other spices in butter. I then added couscous to toast in the mix. Lastly, I added hot water and removed it from the heat. Dinner was excellent. I ate it while talking to Deborah, who was finishing her day and talking to me. It is lovely to start and end a day together.

I read the newly delivered 5E conversion of the Judges Guild adventure: The Caverns of Thrace. The Kickstarter was delivered today (without the tariffs from the China-based printing). The book is an inch thick and contains many ideas I have used in my own adventure writing for Dungeons & Dragons, mostly echoed in my Glass Factory story, with its multiple levels and submarine. I hope to form a player group to try this. It is also, from what I can read, not inconsistent with the new version of Dungeons and Dragons.

Time disappears soon, and I am in my PJs and reading Tom Mead’s book now. I return to my Apple and consider joining Hope_16 in August in Brooklyn. This is the hacker’s convention hosted by 2600 The Hacker Quarterly, and I have hoped to go for years. Events always seem to get in the way. But on Wednesday, I bought a ticket to Hope_16, booked flights and a hotel, and will be there; Deborah might hop a plane for part of my week in the NYC area.

The house is warm, and I nod off. I woke up to a nightmare that included being forced into tight spaces and possibly being roasted to escape some inexplicable but deadly risk. Yes, terrible, and clearly, I was having an asthma attack while sleeping, and was uncomfortable while sleeping.

I rise, the house is cooler now, and I get a glass of water. I am feeling better and will soon sleep, but I wake up often.