Author: alohawild

I rose after my alarm started at 7. Finding the kitchen, I assembled the French press, poured liberal goodness into its glass bottom, and covered it with the screen and top. My electric kettle supplied hot water. I am still resisting this time zone, time change, and darkness. The sun was yet to rise! I turned on my wide-spectrum light, but the loss of light depression (SAD, Seasonal Affected Disorder, is another name) was not impacting me today. It was a naturally bright, cold, and happy morning in Oregon, not our usual grey and damp and coffee drinking start. I was feeling that I was not getting enough walking and overeating (though my weight is unchanged and my clothing loosely fitting). I planned to get out these next couple of days.

I will head to Michigan on Wednesday next week and return to the Pacific Northwest late on November 20th.

I spent the morning writing, finding focus, and writing fast. Unfortunately, Grammarly had an outage, and I had to rely on Microsoft to help edit the text using MS Word. It missed dozens of typos and wording issues that Grammarly found once it was running again about an hour after I published the blog. That left me disappointed as I thought I was better. Poo.

I use these tools to remove the typos and poor wording that stream-of-conscious writing produces. I don’t have the time to review my text three times and read backward. I need Grammarly to find those so I can make this production, writing a blog, a couple-hour task, and not a whole day process. I let WordPress handle posting details and the care and feeding of a blog website. Yes, WordPress is training wheels for a would-be influencer, and the tagging is rudimental, but I am using it just to post. Before, I wrote an email or a lengthy post on Facebook, but I like having more control and clear ownership. I pay for a service from WordPress, and I clearly own the content. But the tools can make you lazy. Hmmm.

Returning to the narrative, breakfast was a banana and cereal with milk. The coffee helped me find my focus and ignore all the political news. I am not reading much now as most of it is still ash-sorting.

I wrote until about 9ish as I completed the blog. I cleaned up, shaved, and so on. I dressed in a T-shirt and often would wear my now baggy blue sweater as I quickly get cold, a leftover from chemotherapy. I watched another episode, well, half of one, of the show Silo on Apple+ and enjoyed the unpredictable post-apocalyptic story in season one. Sort of a mystery and crime story, all mixed in a space-opera setting except underground and after the mysterious poisoning of the world. I will manage another episode later in the evening but can only take the darkness in short doses.

I opened a can of baked beans (with pork) and heated them in a pan. I had that with some crackers. I headed to Hillsboro for a walk. It is a lovely walk with many Antique stores and other distractions to make it pleasant. I found parking without issue on Friday early afternoon.

I walk up and down the streets and talk to friends on the phone while I walk. It feels like I am not alone when I chat and walk, though I travel well by myself and am comfortable walking anywhere now, be that New Orleans, Casablanca, Chicago, East Lansing, or Portland. However, I am always watchful and try to notice things that could be a risk and avoid them. The situational awareness training is always there.

I did not find any antiques I needed this time and avoided buying coffee or expensive pasta by not stopping at a foodie store. Next time, I will stop by the edgy crystal shop to look for Christmas items. They often have excellent earrings, boxes, and soaps, all good gifts.

I locked in nearly 4,000 steps for the day (as did a friend on the phone who called, and we walked together by phone) and felt better. During the walk, I noticed that my left leg seemed weak and painful, a new thing. I took some painkillers, and that seemed to help. My balance was off some, and I think the lack of walking for two weeks has been a setback. Later, while cutting my toenails, I had to reach for the grab bar as I suddenly started to fall into the shower sideways (towards the left, my bad side). It would have been a bad fall, but I arrested it. I will be more careful!

Next, I started chopping to assemble the items for yet another try (YAT) at Jambalaya, but this time without seafood and selecting a brown-style concoction. I chopped (and cried for) more onions. I realized the recipe was too large and cut it in half (four cups of rice and onions is too much for me). I had to do the dishes from yesterday’s Italian dinner and prepare the kitchen for the next adventure.

I replaced chicken with ham and smoked sausage with andouille smoked sausage in a large pan with a lid. I cooked the meat while finishing the assembly of the components. I used cane syrup for the brown sugar, which surprisingly added a smoked flavor or, more likely, increased it when I carmelized the sugar after removing the meat. I added the trinity (onion, green pepper, celery) but delayed the pope (sliced garlic) until later. I included not a roux but Kitchen Bouquet sauce from a jar, as I learned in New Orleans (a cheat and an improvement). I cooked this until it almost stuck to the pan. This turned the veggies black, but I had no fear. I returned the meat, added the pope to the pan, and let it all get settled and friendly with each other again. I added a regular-sized can of fire-roasted chopped tomatoes and scrapped the pan bottom to get all the smoke goodness in the sauce. I put in more than a tablespoon of Joe’s spices from the class (Bayou blend) and a tablespoon of their Cajan Worcestershire sauce. I added some of their dried garlic, too. I added two cups of rice I had (Indian style, but no matter) and three and some more cups of chicken broth from a box. I bring it all to a boil, cover, and reduce the heat to a low temperature to match the usual rice cooking process. It was done after twenty minutes.

The flavor is good, and it was excellent with a sprinkle of Joe’s spicy version. If you want to make it perfect, add some drops of the Cajan Worcestershire sauce. The smoky flavor is there, and the touch of heat is good. The extra sprinkles add more heat to a level I like. I am satisfied with the result, though most folks would want it hotter spiced.

I have three bowls, each with more sprinkles of hot spices. I return to the kitchen, seeing that the house elves still haven’t done anything, and it looks as if a Cajan chef blew up. I do the dishes and put the cooling Jambalaya in the frig. Soon, the kitchen is back to its usual chaotic mess, but it is familiar.

Corwin visits and has a few bowls of reheated Jambalaya with sprinkles. I get a high-five from him. Since my brain surgery, I have had some trouble with taste, and I am never sure of my cooking with these new spices and processes. Corwin is my taster. All is good.

Corwin and I agree that he can be paid to remove the leaves from my gutter (I will have to pay someone). He will take a payment to ensure no leaves remain after the trees are empty and will clear the mess as it happens. This means multiple passes, I am afraid.

We decided not to drink beer but to enjoy ice cream and headed to Salt and Straw in Beaverton’s Cedar Mills Crossing in Air Volvo. We arrived after 8, and there was a crowd of mostly Asians and Indians in line or enjoying ice cream. I suspect the American crowd was earlier and the date crowd of young folks later. I had a Pumpkin Pie Tiramisu cone, and Corwin went for a Parker Roll and other flavors I don’t remember ice cream cone. All good. We walk around the strip mall and learn that the new La Provence closes early at 8PM (and sooner on Mondays and Sundays). Soon, we were cold (the ice cream countering the warmness of Bayou-style spices), boarded an Air Volvo, and returned to the Volvo Cave without issue. Corwin collects extra ham and Jambalaya for easy lunches/dinners and heads out.

I watch some videos on the ShipHappens and Battleship New Jersey channels. I shower, put on PJs, and read for a while. I blast Christopher Cross’s best music on Amazon’s Echo device (I still pay for music). I return to quiet music to sleep by to cover the strange house noises that wake me. I used to wake immediately when Susie called, or she fell or was lost in the dark, and I still wake for odd sounds–years as a caretaker. Best to cover the sounds with music.

I sleep until 6ish without waking.

Thank you for reading.

 

I still wake to an alarm instead of just rising when I wake. The time change and the dark morning and clear skies have me sleeping too late. Also, I was only a week out of New Orleans for a week when the time changed. Yikes!

I find my robe and slippers and head down the hall to find my laptop on my worktable in the fireside room that adjoins the kitchen. It is a galley kitchen full of too much stuff, but it is home. There I find the French press, add Trader Joe’s Fairly Traded Certified coffee, boiling water, and soon have a cup of liberal joy reminding me of equity and how important the four fundamental freedoms are:

The first is freedom of speech and expression–everywhere in the world.

The second is freedom of every person to worship God in his own way–everywhere in the world.

The third is freedom from want–which, translated into world terms, means economic understandings which will secure to every nation a healthy peacetime life for its inhabitants-everywhere in the world.

The fourth is freedom from fear–which, translated into world terms, means a world-wide reduction of armaments to such a point and in such a thorough fashion that no nation will be in a position to commit an act of physical aggression against any neighbor–anywhere in the world.

Franklin Roosevelt, President of the USA, extracted from the delivered text of the State of the Union Address on 6 January 1941, before the USA entered WW2.

The bitterness of the coffee reminds me that the USA’s goal is still aspirational, even here in the Pacific Northwest. The USA even put these on stamps! Norman Rockwell painted them, and we put that on stamps, too. I drink deeply and find Hope still in my cup. Someday!

With my civic and history lessons in my cup, I start to write. I find the words to describe the day before, Wednesday, and some of my feeling and direction. I see a banana and cereal, Trader Joe’s, and open a new milk container of shelf-stable milk that I will now keep in the frig (I will need to do some baking and have more cereal). My mind wanders, and my focus comes and goes, but I have lunch with Scott, so I must focus and complete my task by 11. And I do.

Scott contacted me, and I misread his message and thought I was running late and to meet him at Rockcreek. Instead, he said he was walking the dog at Rockcreek Park and would be on time at Cornelius Pass Roadhouse. Oops. Thrilled to rush (an adventure and indeed more interesting than the current ash-shifting that is the press and Democratic Party-related news), I skip shaving and soon in Air Volvo and arrive at Rockcreek and have a fire built and a beer for me. It is a cold morning, and the outdoor furniture is cold, but the fire soon makes it more comfortable.

The bartender’s first attempt to build a fire sputter fails. I walk to Air Volvo and get my emergency items from the glove compartment: special REI-supplied waterproof matches and rope. I try out the match, which is quite a fire, so I start it again. The bartender returns and reminds me that guests may not play with fire there, and I smile guilty and let her handle it. Soon, she has a good fire after including some old menus, logs, and candle oil.

Scott says he can’t find me, and soon, I apologize to the bartender, pay my bill with a 20% tip, leave my half-finished beer (for early lunch—it is 5 somewhere), and board Air Volvo. Air Volvo delivers me to the correct McMenamins: Cornelius Pass Roadhouse. I found Scott with his large pooch, Loki.

We talked about investments, travel, and how to be safe for the future. As always, there is never enough money to do everything, and we talked about a withdrawal plan with a large interest generating component to protect the principle at first. Just pulling the income and any (hopeful) market-based improvements at the end of the year (a sort of holiday bonus). This reminded me to call Nike HR and start the COBRA process, as with a new anti-Obamacare President and Congress elected, it is looking like I will have no health care in the future–65 is far away.

But I know that there is a reasonable secondary negotiated cash market for medical services, and much that I will need can be done in this market. I will need cheap major medical coverage for unexpected or reoccurrence issues with cancer, but there is a new adventure for me coming. While I would not choose this path, it was chosen by the election (Trump and friends will have to succeed at the repeal), I will take it and try to find joy in weaving a successful coverage (or lack of) health care. I can even imagine a new weekly blog on how to do this, which might be popular. Hmmm. Scott asked me if I was going for black-market medical, “More a grey market used by medical professionals,” I replied.

More beer and an Italian Dip, which, while imaginative, was likely not as good as other items on the menu. Scott had something healthy. Soon Loki, disappointed when the waiter tripped and did not drop my sandwich, and Scott was headed home. Air Volvo returned me to the Volvo Cave without incident, and driving seemed calmer this Thursday morning and early afternoon.

The next event was a church Zoom meeting. That left me tired and out of focus–details cannot be shared. I read and rested for a while. I found the kitchen and gnocchi (vegan!) with a jar of marinara sauce (U Parve, meaning not meat or dairy) for dinner. I heated the sauce in a pan, cooked some smoked ham (not vegan), boiled water, and then the gnocchi (done when they float). Soon I had that assembled and it was surprisingly good with the ham added just enough to prevent it from being plain. I will make it veggie next time (grilled carrots and veggies replacing the ham) to see if I like it that way or with crushed tomatoes, garlic, and ham. All experiments to come!

I watched some more Silo on Apple+ and like the story arc, though I don’t usually go for dark dystopian stories. This is a mix of crime-solving, horror, and post-apocalyptic Sci-Fi. Dark and depressing, but in a good way, as you see folks trying to fight the system and bring light to this dark story. It’s too dark to recommend, but I like it.

Soon, with some more distractions, time runs out, and I am showered and reading the Dungeons Master Guide 2024. I am learning some new approaches to playing Dungeons and Dragons and how to establish a safer game. It is all interesting to me. I keep imaging myself running a new D&D 2024 campaign, but with the travel, meeting friends, writing, gaming, and having to do the laundry once in a while, where will I find the time? It’s a good problem to have.

I soon slept and woke up in the morning to another alarm.

Thanks for reading!

Aside: The Grammarly service is out. This uses MS Word to help find typos. The choices for its spelling check for ‘post-apocalyptic’ were enjoyable but unusable. I fixed all the typos later.

I rose at 3ish to talk to folks on the East Coast and help them accept that we have four more years of the same (but likely more chaotic), which is hard to accept. I wrote the blog at 4ish and returned, even with coffee, to sleep, and got a few more hours of sleep.

Before writing the blog or going back to sleep, I made breakfast. I took out the mashed potatoes left in the frig. I re-mashed them with some milk (I keep a carton of milk in the frig. I use boxes of shelf-stable whole milk now as I use it primarily for cooking). I chopped fine some onion and remixed it. I formed them into little pancakes and fried them in hot oil on the stove. They were still a bit oily for my taste, but having potato pancakes with my poached eggs was still good.

Reusing potatoes and making more of them seemed the liberal thing to do. Add spice to an older item, fry it carefully and thoughtfully until crunchy, until it is something new and better, and serve with ketchup—sounds liberal to me. I suspect that soon, we liberals will have lots of chances to spice, fry, and make new things from old things as failed ideas and methods are tried once again.

My coffee was liberal too and reminded me that even a cup of coffee, this cup, was not some cheap rip-off of supposed market forces forcing farmers to take too little for their hard-fought-for crop but fairly exchanged coffee. Every cup brings the dreams of success to the farmer and the drinker, a blessing. Little things matter, even coffee.

I rose again mid-morning and found more coffee. I was at loose ends and had many things I could do, but I selected none and just sat in my house and tried not to imagine the chaos (and tear gas) of the dystopian-like coming 2025. I did find the focus to move my doctor’s appointment that overlapped my trip to Michigan and arrange some cheaper hotels in Lansing that do not charge for parking (my favorite, The Graduate, charges for parking).

I reheated the leftover Chinese-style Trader Joe’s chicken with jasmine rice I made the day before. I read and posted a bit on Facebook. While reading, I miss my friend Eric “Elric” Anderson, as I do not see posts (usually quite funny) or likes on FaceBook. I notice how often I write or post something, thinking he would like it or comment about it. I miss you “Elric.”  If the measure of a good man is in tears from his passing (not a feather in Egyptian myths), then “Elric” has passed the test. I hear his laughter, too.

It is a surprisingly sunny and cold (for us) day in Oregon. The sun takes away some of Tuesday’s darkness. My lawn service struggles with the massive leaves my trees produced this year (I pay an extra fee to remove them), and they still leave a pile after loading their truck to the max with leaves and refilling my yard waste recycling container. I wave, and they look unhappy; it happens every year, and I pay them for this, but I get it. It is like elections; some think it just can’t be that bad if we do this again, just like last time. Until it is. Maybe they will bring bags next time and go with something newer and liberal instead of the same old reactive actions. But perhaps I digress.

I head to Cedar Mills Crossing McMenamins to have a beer with fries (just because fried is appealing to me) and arrange a room for the Next Theology Pub on Thursday, the 14th of this month. I will miss it, but I might be available online. Violet is my bartender, who I barely recognize with her nose taped together; a swimming accident, she explains. All is soon arranged, and the beer, Terminator Stout, is to remember “Elric” and drank for Tyler, who does not drink now.

Air Volvo gets me home. Corwin stops over while I continue to avoid much of anything, spending much of the afternoon talking to folks on the phone. He drops off my dish, and I offer him ham, which he makes into a sandwich (I keep the sliced bread in the freezer now and toast it when I need a slice), and I slice some green pepper (left over from making Jambalaya), which add to the sandwich. He also uses Trader Joe’s cheddar and horseradish dip for a spread on the bread (an excellent idea I will have to try). Corwin and I discussed the new Dungeons and Dragons Dungeon Master Guide 2024 (DMG) that I purchased yesterday. D&D is moving to version 2024 now (instead of using 5.5, they went with the year). To our delight, some older rules and material have been revised and returned to this version, but as usual, we have a list of complaints, too. The base setting of the game also returns to Greyhawk, which is a surprise to me. Greyhawk and related items are original material from the original creator, Gary Gygax. I am happy to see its return, and the DMG cover, always a villain, is now Venger from the cartoon series. I have an unpainted metal figure of him I will have to paint now! Retro and new at the same time.

Next, I head out to First United Methodist Church in a dark drive after the time change and as we slowly approach the winter solstice. The traffic was unusually deadlocked even in Aloha before I hit the mess of Beaverton on a school night. I crawl to the church, seldom finding a chance of risking a speeding ticket. Some rail crossings are still down, and I don’t see a train. Hmmm.

I reached the church, and Ashley and Andrew (AA) were there. Soon, Dondrea and Z arrive (DZ). Everyone, liberal or at least anti-Trump, is still stunned, and there is some shared mourning, but soon, we find our focus again. Andrew, Z, and I assembled a three-person version of a favorite board game: Istanbul with Mocha and Baksheesh. This is an efficiency-styled game with multiple paths to achieve victory. The game simulates you running your cart over an early 1900s Istanbul market to gather resources to trade for money, options, and, eventually, rubies. The game ends when a player gets the last ruby on their cart but allows the others one more turn to steal the victory away. And that is what happened in the first game. I managed to get the last gem, but I had only one coin left. Z smiled. Andrew was smiling, too. They both bought gems, causing a three-way tie. Ties are resolved by cash. Z had seven, Andrew six, and me one. Surprise, last place for me!

Andrew helped reset and then went off to sing with the choir for practice now that the band practice was over. Z then plays a fast two-person game with me. Z is lucky and effective and beats me by a gem, this time in a quick and somewhat brutal game (the way we like it). We are all getting the game down, and I am slightly sad that I lost every game, but there is always a next time! It also shows that I have taught them well (f**k!). Or we might have to change to the board game Scythe or Lisboa to get my revenge! Again, while disappointed to lose, it is exciting to see Andrew and Z beat me.

I head home, and traffic is still crazy. Air Volvo dodges Beaveton-style driving, corresponding to no known legal or logical text, including going slow in the left (fast or passing) lane and switching lanes (with limited warning) to go fast in the right (slow) lane. I arrive safe and intact at the Volvo Cave. Early, I opened the gas fill. I pushed the tab back and forth and wiped away some wetness. The engine check light is gone. F**k.

I watched the next episode of Silo on Apple+ TV. It is improving in episode three, and the plot is getting darker. The head of IT, not surprisingly, has been identified as one of the potential bad guys. I managed one episode, but I am not ready for more darkness and fiendish plots (if I want, I can turn on the news) and stop.

I don’t usually read the DMG of a new version, 2024, in this case, as it is generally suitable only for tables and lists. The 4E was so poorly edited that I had to tape corrections into the original version, so my expectations were low. Previously, most of the book, besides the tables and lists, was suggestions and occasionally used rules and exceptions. In DMG 2024, I have noticed a significant style change that attempts to make the book more valuable. I am reading it and like some of the suggestions and rule updates (most style items for play).

I showered, and soon, I was dressed in my PJs and reading more DMG in bed. I start to nod off with rules and dice rolls in my mind. I turned on the Amazon Echo music to sleep and soon went to sleep through the night.

Thanks for reading.

The old joke I taught to many computer professionals was the last words of a red shirt on Star Trek or the next victim in a horror flick, “What was that?” Yes, people would say the computer f**k up this and data disaster that, and all I would say in response is, “What was that?” Yes, watching the messages on my phone for Trump’s return, “What was that?” came to mind.

The morning started more hopeful for us liberals, around 7:30 for me. I rose a bit later, my phone waking me. It is hard to know when to roll over and return to a brief sleep on damp days, usually filled with waking dreams, or to rise. I know I could easily sleep until 9.

Aside: I am struggling to recall Tuesday due to the lack of sleep (I was up at East Coast Time to talk to some friends in the Eastern USA after an unwelcome election result). I will try to cover the essential items with only a few lines of politics, as I am liberal.

Liberal coffee on an election morning always tastes bitter, and Corwin had left me coffee, so this was especially bitter after reheating. The bitterness reminds me how far we have to go. I did taste those goals (that seem a little more out-of-focus this post-election morning): Justice, Compassion, and Community. Hope seemed to warn me that it would be a hard day, but I was always happy to see Hope in my cup.

Breakfast was a banana with coffee and some oatmeal (instant pumpkin spice with pecan from Trader Joe’s). I wrote slowly in the morning as I had no plans. When my cup was empty of reheated coffee, I made more coffee. I was happy to see no severe violence in the election other than some weak bomb threats reported from Russia. Deciding that I had not heard from anyone and had all this food in the freezer, I fixed Trader Joe’s Mandarin Chicken and started that on the stove. I also made some jasmine rice to go with it (water and rice, simple).

Shiva and Subha told me they wanted to meet, so I scheduled a meeting at the Tous Les Jours Bakery at Beaverton Town Center for 4. I watched the election news as the first polls closed, and Air Volvo took me to the bakery. I also took a call, which was an excellent distraction while waiting for 4, and later, Shiva and Subha were running late.

It was great to see Shiva again; he resides in India, and we try to meet when he is in town. Subha and he and I caught up. We talked about all my travels and how I am feeling. Subha and Shiva shared their experiences at the company. They were surprised by my Brooks shoes (no Air Force Ones for me). We had only an hour, but we enjoyed, as always, each other’s company and will try to stay better in contact. I headed home at 5:30 in Air Volvo.

Before this, I received news that my new Dungeons and Dragons Dungeon Master’s Guide 2024 order had been canceled; my credit card did not clear. Frustrated, I ordered another one and used PayPal to pay for it. I received immediate access to the electronic version, and the new one would show just before I flew to Michigan next week. I lost my discount when purchasing all the books together–Growl. I thought the next book would also likely fail, and I would have to order it, too.

Deciding I needed a break from election news, I headed to the local gaming store, Guardian Games, Aloha. There, they had a stack of DM manuals, and not minding having two, I bought one with a recipe. The store person was useless and slightly unfriendly, and I tried to engage them in talking about the newest games or ideas, “I am too busy to play games,” was the incredible response from the guy running the gaming store. I walked next door to their other gaming table section, was greeted, and asked about my health. We talked about some possible role-playing games and scenarios. We both enjoy the new content for Lord of the Rings being generated for the role-playing game by the same name. The material fills all the maps with ruins, encounters, and stories. We both agree it is like getting more Tolkien. Feeling better now and with some exciting stuff to read, I headed home.

I read the book and found various excellent distractions from getting anything done. Soon, it was near 4. I also received the unwelcome news that the cancel email was wrong. Now I have two inbound to the Volvo Cave. F**k.

Later, I returned home and started to watch the election. The New York Times (NYT) had a ‘needle’ showing awful news for us liberals. The Democrats were winning and losing states by much smaller margins than expected. While North Carolina took a while to call, the NYT needle was already guessing that Trump would win. Yike!

It did not improve, but I did not surrender until after 11. I could see that the Midwest states were swinging over to Trump. There were not enough votes left to make up the difference. I was happy that Fox News was carefully calling states and matched the NYT and CNN. I got a text after midnight that Trump won the election.

I was miserable and felt I should no longer risk publishing a blog or having a Facebook account. I am concerned, still am, that my blog could, assuming I will be out there protesting the usual stupid things, be used to attack me or my friends. But Dondrea reminded me:

“I believe … that the most important thing that we have and will have to focus on is each other. The worlds that we build to support and love the people who are important to us. Our communities … will be our beacon.

It is what we have to hold on to with all of our strength.

I will try to be and do that … I will continue to try to be and do that … it’s all I know. I give my strength to that every day. “

It is a good message for folks wearing blue or red hats. I suspect the perfume of tear gas will soon be mine to enjoy. The blog will continue, as the risk, and words are worth the investment.

From my sermon on Sunday:

“With the election only a few days from now and unlikely to resolve anything, I suggest you remember the truth…

Remember, we are the gumbo, and it will be great.

God bless the United States and We the People.”

Thanks for reading.

(From FaceBook)

I rolled over a few times despite enjoying multiple options to wake up that evening and slept to my alarm at 7. I am using an alarm because it seems impossible to know what time it is with the time change and the on-and-off rain and cloudiness we are experiencing this fall/winter/spring (it all looks the same here in the Greater Portland, Oregon area).

We say the season changes are determined by feeling the rain, cold means it is winter, cool means fall or spring, and warmish means spring/summer. We often call this season Nov-Dec-Jan-Feb-Mar-April-May-June month.  With the election and the darkness, I am careful to get more light and avoid SAD or what I call lack of light depression. I used to joke around March that folks living here should change their silverware and kitchen knives to plastic to avoid just offing yourself in an attack of depression while making a sandwich. This year, with the grief and election (which yet may cause more grief) and leftovers from the pandemic (I read that some studies show that many of us are grieving unknowingly for our previous life before the pandemic), I might take my own joking advice. Yikes!

I was lazy, as usual, on Monday, being retired. It is my Saturday morning as others work and get started on yet another work week; there are fewer texts, and the news and accounts are muted due to Sunday being a slow news and transaction day. I can just go slow.

It takes me until 11ish to finish the blog. Breakfast is liberal Trader Joe’s coffee, which still tastes like Justice, Compassion, and Community despite being a corporate product. Hope is always at the bottom of my cup ready to jump into the world and bring, well, hope.

I am writing this story about Monday, Tuesday, Election Day, and I should record my feelings about the election before it is called.

On the subject of hope, many of my liberal friends are scared of the election and four more years of Trump, but I remember We the People survived LBJ, Nixon, Trump (version 1), and the strange presidency of Bill Clinton. Should things go to Trump, we will survive and learn again all the limits of the president and federal government powers, and I suspect tear gas will perfume our streets again. As a retired person who is now not a caring giver, I will be out there protesting any stupidities. I also know it is easier to complain than to actually govern, and I suspect the four years, should they be full of controversy, will produce little results (other than sales of tear gas). I have hope and drink deep this election of my liberal coffee, drank most mornings for eight years starting on Wednesday two four-year elections ago. 

Returning to Monday, I grab some ham with my banana and liberal coffee. I think I need more protein and fewer carbs. I have fallen behind on my walking, seldom breaking a few thousand steps of late, with excuses of the rain and excellent distractions each day, but I look forward to walking many steps in Michigan next week.

I reheated some Jambalaya, which is better than I remember; it just needs some heat in the spices. It’s not bad for someone’s first try at making it from scratch. I shall venture on with more cooking soon.

The mail has arrived, and I have two packages, one for Corwin (he is still sending them here). I have books from Crescent City Books. One is the history of prostitution in Argentina; after learning the history of New Orleans (NOLA), this has become an interest of mine. The other is the Veganonmican, an early Vegan cookbook. Yes, a diverse selection of books. The cookbook covers essential “Betty Crocker”-like vegan recipes, allows for canned ingredients, and explores basic sauces. Perfect for someone like me who is just interested and wants to produce good food for anyone. Having looked at some recipes, the authors often say this is not an authentic version of this or that, just something that worked for them. They also assume you have considerable exotic veggies available and provide only occasional substitutes. Hmmm. Again, this a book full of opportunities to learn. There is a stuffed pepper recipe that has my attention.

I finally dressed and took an Air Volvo to get gas. I got to the filling station, parked, opened the app, selected a pump, drove up, and explained to the full-service folks (still The Way of Oregon) that I was using the app; they made an effort not to do eye rolls. I took steps to accept the app on the pump, paid with my Apple Pay, and soon, gas flowed. It was 50 cents less a gallon today. Despite the troubles, with 17 gallons going into Air Volvo, I saved $8.50, enough for a beer! As someone retired and living off of his investments (Social Security is more than a year away, and health care four), I need to economize those things that are not fun.

Yes, Air Volvo still has a check engine light. My hope that refilling it with gas would help failed, so I will have to get it serviced soon—but not on Monday.

I return home, read more Veganonmicon (my spelling keeps changing, but that is the nature of such a dread book), and then decide to get my hair cut. Without Zorida here, I head to Great Clips, where the same gal cuts my hair as last time. They are wearing paper masks, and I offer to wear one and learn it is for their protection and mandated by corporate, not for COVID-19 but for so many folks with colds and flu. No mask is needed for me.

I got a short haircut, off the ears, a business look. Best to make things simple when you are traveling. It is soon over, and Air Volvo, still with a check engine light, takes me home to the Volvo Cave. There, I found some excellent distractions on a call and read the news. I am greatly relieved that there were no SNAFUs or shenanigans with voting at the start of the election.

Dinner was at Pepita’s Mexican Restaurant & Cantina in Beaverton with Dondrea and Z, yes, DMZ. We were there early, before 5, and were the first customers. Dondrea and I went for the Chile Colorado plater, and Z went out on a culinary limb and ordered fish enchiladas. Margaritas are for the folks over 21, and Z gets a no-alcohol Piña Colada. The food was excellent, with Z’s risky choice being partially good. We mainly talked about travel and a few thoughts on the election.

Stuffed and skipping dessert, we head out in separate ways. Air Volvo reaches the Volvo Cave with no issues. I decided to watch Tom Hank’s Apple+ –only WW2 movie, Greyhound. It is an excellent movie, and the special effects are outstanding. Much was shot on a surviving Fletcher Class destroyer, the workhouse of the USA WW2 navy. I was surprised that it was ninety minutes of endless action. Tom Hanks makes it all seem real. The original story, The Good Shepard, by C.S. Forester, is a favorite author of mine, but I have not read this book. The action reminded me less of a WW2 story but of a wargame from Avalon Hill, Submarine. I think I have played the scenario. Still, I recommend Greyhound if you want to spend ninety minutes glued to your screen and see what a Fletcher Class can do and why so many destroyers were lost in the war.

Aside: Corwin picks up his package while I am out and enjoys and finishes my Jambalaya. He reports it to be good, though it could be hotter spiced. Excellent.

After that, I was tired and nearly fell asleep in the chair. I rose, showered, and got on my PJs. I finished the Vampire Cookbook with one more recipe and story. The ending was predictable, with the principal storyteller, a disreputable bartender, not escaping his fate–no spoilers.

Sleep came slowly, with me being warm and cold and then pain in my toes. The little electric shocks from chemo and/or diabetes did not improve my sleeping. Hydration is the solution for me. Usually, my mind wanders, and I find new things to worry about, but once I resolved one issue—trying to remember a name (requiring me to look at posts and suddenly recall it)—my mind went blank, sleep came, and I returned to the everyday world around 6 to prove hydration.

That brings me to today, Election Day in the USA.

Thanks for reading.