Author: alohawild

I try not to swing from depression to elation. That feels more manic than alive. Instead, I had a good Wednesday and did many things. The depression comes when I don’t do anything. It felt more like a usual day for me.

I rose after 7 and soon found the kitchen; it had not moved. In the kitchen, technology had summoned a pot of caffeinated joy into existence for me, which I had assembled the night before. Technology then applied power to the various parts and brought coffee to life! The dark liquid is fair-exchanged and thus deliciously bitter and liberal, my favorite flavor. With Hope, also found in the morning elixir, I headed to my office to begin my writing.

Yes, dear reader, I did go back to that boilerplate, but I like coming up with new words for coffee.

I wrote the blog, updated the transactions in Quicken for all my live accounts (IRA balances require manual updates), and paid my accumulated monthly expenses (which always reminds me of Gomez in the Addams Family, “for the monthly expenses”). While my cash is lower than I planned, the extra expense for Air VW the Gray, including paying off the Volvo failed repairs, rental car until I bought the EV, and installing a charge station, comes to nearly $9,000. Sucks! I will not curtail my travel (Mickey is next and that mouse loves ‘cheddar’), but I will be careful not to increase monthly expenses and try to keep my spending down when not travelling.

With the bills paid, blog done, I walked through the backyard, and the frost did not seem to slow anything. The bees are all over the blooms on the apple tree and the mountain ash. There are small moths or butterflies (they flutter by too soon for me to identify them). The lawn service has the grass a dark green, cut, and it appears very happy. The roses have jumped into the sky already, but show rust this time. Never had that in years. How strange. I must treat them as the red bumps are now on two roses. The roses are thick with promises of flowers.

I shower, dress, get the mail, and talk to Deborah, who is happy to hear my last birthday present arrived. I have a Calamity Mug, something I have considered buying a few times. Excellent. Next, I board Air VW the Gray and head to the nearby MAX station, then into Portland. I was happy to get a newer car, but the seats were less comfortable than the older ones. Hmmmm.

I got to see a likely illegal cash deal in non-US currency, and one passenger was having an animated talk about the vibrations in the earth that he could feel; there was nobody in his audience. In other words, it was the usual trip to Portland. I smiled and read my Canadian murder/crime story on my Kindle. I wore a coat and a white hat, almost invisible with the gray hair and the book.

I got off at the Library station, stopped, and enjoyed the cool morning in the nearby park, Director Park. It was the last minutes of morning, and a gentleman was playing old classic rock loudly on speakers. I gave him a tip, which surprised him. The giant chess set was not out, but the fountain was shooting water here and there.

The park along Park Street (North Park Blocks) was full of folks who, by their carts and mixed clothing, were likely homeless. I saw a line near the still-not-remounted Teddy Roosevelt statue (just the block remains, and you have to imagine a metal president on a metal horse). The ‘Sandwich Ministry’ was running. A group of three people was supplying sandwiches, coffee, and a drink for anyone. I gave them a donation, which made them very happy.

Aside: Pastor Steve once told the story of a man who used to drive around and give sandwiches as a personal ministry–he just did this and did not think to tell anyone. It was something he just did. He passed unexpectedly, and one unknown man came to the funeral, and according to Steve, told the story of the late man giving him a sandwich. The family then took up the role of giving away sandwiches. I do not know if what I witnessed was the fruit of this story or another tale. I was happy to see it; everyone looked calm and happy. I believe the worst of being homeless is to be treated as if you do not exist. To be treated less than human and become unseen. Being seen, handed a sandwich, and getting some peace is a great gift.

I entered the Portland Art Museum, PAM, and was there to see the Monet lily pad painting that had been repaired and the varnish removed. It was reportedly still slightly faded. I learned you cannot undo all the darkness from a varnish without destroying the original paint from the informational video across from the Monet. PAM has only a few French Impressionist paintings; most were on the wall for this show (except an embarrassingly ugly and small Van Gogh of a cow in dark shades, here).

PAM, never a wealthy institution, focused on graphic arts over its 100 years and its collection of Japanese prints, M.C. Escher original works, including canceled engraving and woodblock masters, and other paper-based art, often from well-known artists (but obviously cheaper than painting, bronzes, and so on), is extensive. PAM curators assembled next to the French Impressionists, Japanese prints, and works that echoed the influence of the Japanese prints, including a sketch from Toulouse-Lautrec. Most of the Japanese prints are the same as the ones Monet is known to have owned.

The story is that the French Impressionists were heavily influenced by these new items that had just appeared with the American forced opening of Japan. The prints were suddenly available, and the French Impressionists bought and admired them. The show’s text suggests that Monet, Lautrec, and others incorporated the colors, lines, and positions of figures found in the Japanese prints into their works.

Although the curators did not include it in this display, PAM owns Hokusai’s famous Wave print. This show included many of his other works of Japanese print art from the same time. I thought it was a small but excellent show, and it is recommended.

The Wave needs to be presented in a darker light to protect it, and, according to the docent I spoke to, it would have distracted from the Monet. I saw an original on my last trip to Chicago, and it was in a dark corner of the museum. It is smaller, and the colors were darker than I expected.

One later Japanese print used a Western perspective, showing the reverse influence. I also saw a woodcut from 1894 of a Hokusai-like wave dumping an artist in his small boat with his easel. It suggested the French Impressionists were overwhelmed by these Japanese forms (Henri Gustave Jossot, La Vague). I laughed out loud and bought a postcard of the image later in the gift store. It is here.

I did view the 1960s art and outfits, but that did not interest me enough. While colorful and sort of interesting, I was still thinking about the mix of Japanese art and French Impressionists. The room of Portland-based rock posters was an interesting historical addition.

I stopped by the store and received blank looks when I asked if the prints of PAM’s one Monet lily pad painting for sale were made before or after the varnish removal. I wanted the new look. I got a card (I sent it to Mom Wild) and napkins, suspecting they are the previous look. I thought napkins were an odd way to celebrate Monet.

Next, I walked back through the park and tipped my hat to the folks still there. They commented on my white hat,  saying it was fetching. I opened the door to South Park Seafood bar, sat, and ordered some wine. I had their board of cold fish offerings. It all went well with wine and French Impressionists. It was a perfect sunny California day in Portland, Oregon. Not something we used to see a few years ago in April! I remember my roses blooming and melting away in the rain, not this year. Instead, I have new infections to deal with. Mostly, you cut this away and treat with care. You must ensure that you do not spread the fungus. Burning (!) is recommended for infected material.

The food was excellent, and I finished with a coffee and a separate shot of Amaretto. With the blues, reds, and yellows of Japanese and French art bouncing in my brain and the excellent food and drink bouncing in me, too, I found the train home and soon headed home. I was fine and soon was home, where a nap soon found me.

I keep forgetting to say that I have bagels from Susie’s Aunt Joyce from NYC from Zabar’s, and will need to acquire supplies (cream cheese and sliced cheese) to enjoy these for breakfast and dinner. I love a toasted tuna melt, though I often set it on fire when the cheese ignites in the broiler. It’s still good and easily and undestructively extinguished when removed from the broiler. It’s best to have a window open, though.

Rising, I found the kitchen again (it still has not moved), and I reheated the pasta and meatballs from yesterday for dinner. I talked to Deborah, and we locked in more of our trip to Anaheim in June. We also discovered that the Nixon Presidential Library is in the LA area. I learned that if you show a public transit card, you get a $2 discount at the tar pit museum, and I looked at taking trains and buses to get there. It looks like fun.

I also talked to Dondrea about working out dinner with her and Z on Thursday. We changed the location to Nonna Emilia Ristorante Italiano after I saw the amazingly LA-like prices at La Provence for dinner. I am going to have to learn to make croissants! Gaming was off for the night–play practice was extended for Z.

I also received new stamps for my collection, which I still maintain. With the passing of the Great Generation, also the greatest stamp collectors, their collections are being dumped online, mostly broken up, and I get a chance at some great discounts. I got a Confederate Stamp used (they are near valueless when unused, and we see fake cancels to increase values), a proof of an impossible to get stamp (there is only one known copy) that was in FDR’s album (!), and invert (my first) that I got at a significant (insane) discount. Easter apparently was not a good time to hold an auction, a buyer’s feast. I placed these in my albums (I have a Revenue album for the very specialized tax stamps) and my usual one with parts of my old Harris Album for Confederates (my Scott’s does not cover that).

I thought about a movie, but instead, I headed to Salt and Straw and had ice cream, mint with chocolate flakes (vegan positive), and then I walked the area and enjoyed the sunset. I then returned home in the EV.

With all this happiness, I was feeling better and more like myself. Meaning, sleep was hard to find. I finally slept around midnight. I woke at 3:15 to an alarm and sent a good morning message to Deborah, who was starting her day then. I fell back to sleep and missed her reply.

Thanks, dear reader, for putting up with 1900 words.

For me, some of the after-travel impacts take a few days to hit. On Tuesday, I was still dragging and then all the colors ran out of the day, but so slowly I did not first notice that I was sad and, well, depressed. I noticed that I wanted to do nothing and ignore calls, texts, and emails, not like me at all.  I recognized that I was in a dark place and decided to pull out of this tailspin. Not by self-medicating with alcohol, painkillers (though a sore arm did have me take some, but light stuff), or other self-destructive behaviors. Instead, I read about Canadian crime, A Better Man: A Chief Inspector Gamache Novel (A Chief Inspector Gamache Mystery Book 15), on my Kindle and made a pork chop with reheated mashed potatoes and some just passable asparagus steamed. Protein, carbs, and some green, perfect!

The decision to get better, taking a familiar and happy task—cooking and then eating some delicious food, brought the colors back into the world. It was difficult for me to do, as the depression pressured me to do nothing but sit in my house, but I got a ticket to a movie I wanted to see and just went at 9ish. Oddly, dear readers, it was you that got me to act; I did not want to write today that I just sat there sad and unable to act. I acted. I was happy at the theater, and all the colors in the movie bright lights, flowed back into the world. I am good.

I am not asking for help, but to record my experiences and to let others who fight depression and loneliness know they are not alone. It ain’t easy, and it sneaks up on you. I believe my fight is against the doom-scrolling world, grief, and finding purpose. I did not face depression when working; I was too busy, so this is another benefit of retirement: I can find myself at loose ends and feel guilty about it, and then get sad. I also am not getting enough exercise. Back to walking!

Returning to the narrative, I rose early to start the blog and traveled to Portland to play Mansions of Madness 2nd Edition, a horror-based semi-cooperative game. It was a sunny, cold morning, feeling more California than Oregon (no rain). Traffic was the usual heavy, everyone-to-work Tuesday (Monday and Friday still are lighter, even with most folks back to the office for the week). A small car had rear-ended a semi truck just before I reached that part of Highway 405, and I had a sudden lane change to avoid that. Next, a three-foot shrubbery was lost on the road on the bridge and reminded me of Monty Python as I avoided it. I was only a few minutes late, and James (who came from Washington State) appeared after me.

We played another scenario, and Richard’s ‘I must win’ took over a few times, but mostly we worked together. Both James and my characters went insane, but I managed to meet my extra game requirement and still won when we finally took down the final monster in a hail of dangerous spells and gunfire. My character was insane, but the additional requirement was met, so I was included in the win. James was not as lucky. Still, it was a fun scenario.

It is a new scenario; I thought it was well put together. We are almost out of scenarios and may start next Tuesday with the Tainted Grail hero-based board game. I have read mixed reviews of the game. I am willing to try it.

Aside: I learned that a replacement app can be used to create your own content for the Mansions of Madness 2nd Edition. I am interested in looking at it. Valkyrie is the software, and it may go that way. You will find it here.

I drove home without issue and found myself exhausted. Still, I made baked meatballs I purchased from Safeway yesterday, heated some pasta sauce from a jar I bought at the Olive Pit in California, and cooked pasta in boiling salty water for lunch. I enjoyed my lunch, but I was tired and soon rested. I nodded off for only a few minutes. I had not realized I was wearing a heavy sweater, while it was 70°F in the house.

It was a struggle to finish the blog. I was so tired, and every word seemed an effort to type. It was difficult to remember the day. I just wanted to rest. I fought through it and produced a decent blog.

I did take a trip to the local gaming store in Aloha, Guardian Games Aloha, and looked for Chicago—City of Big Shoulders, but they did not have it. They have Unconscious Minds, and that got my attention, but it was not a Kickstarter version (but for $60 instead of $230). Instead, I bought the newest role-playing game book from Chaosium, Gaslight Cthulhu Investigators Guide. It comes with a folded map of London from the 1890s. I have run one adventure in this setting, reworked it from the original material, and thought it was good (Sherlock Holmes setting, adding steampunk technology). I used the Savage Worlds base system with rules for spies and Lovecraftian creatures/magic.

As I said, depression seemed to flood me, and I could do nothing for a few hours. But, I remembered I had a defrosted pork chop in the frig, and rose to cook. The action of cooking and eating, as I said, brought me back.

I did the dishes, put away the laundry I finished (I left some towels for Tuesday), and was soon back to my usual busy self. I read the last part of my current book, and was right about the murderer. I completed that just as I needed to head to the Movies. This was a late, 9:20, and last-minute thing, so I did not invite anyone. The Amateur was an excellent adventure, revenge, and spy movie, and it reminded me of The Day of the Jackal, The Odessa File, and some of George Smiley‘s stories (the books), but it has been updated to now and set in the US CIA. One character joked that the main character wanted James Bond equipment, and later, you learn that the guy is a nerd and is better at tech than gunplay. It is like Q from James Bond on a real mission. The main character is not likeable, but you get on his side as you see that he is underestimated repeatedly, as he is a nerd. This appealed to me.

Now tired, after 11, I head to bed. I soon fell asleep.

Deborah texted and called me all day, each time the colors appeared back in the world. After so many weeks together with only a few days’ break, it is hard to go 50 days to the next adventure. But we are planning our Micky Mouse adventure (the mouse wants lots of ‘cheese’ and makes staying at the Grand Hyatt look inexpensive) and staying connected.

Thanks for reading.

I rose with my alarm at 7ish, and sunrise woke me earlier, but I managed to sleep longer. I walked out to the kitchen and found a liberal pot of coffee joy. I poured a cup and made some toast by cutting off a bit of the wheat flour loaf I made a few days ago in the bread machine (I stopped buying bread and instead I make it). I use King Arthur Flour Company flour, milk powder, yeast, and grain mix in the bread machine. I purchase it online and pay shipping at a flat rate of $15; their online prices are lower than in the grocery store. The bread machine is the cheap Amazon version (about $70). While flour is not cheap, I think it must be more affordable to make your own, but adding in the machine’s price may still be more expensive than buying. I think I will break even if I make bread every week or two for a year (I have made about ten loaves, so that is likely $9 each using simple math and cost for ingredients).

Economics and cost of living have moved up in my thinking (as they continue to increase) as I watch the debacle caused by the tariffs. The demand that interest rates be lowered has also surprised me, as the same folks who said the rates are too low are now saying they are too high. Being retired and thus having no paycheck and no Social Security until next year, I must live on my investments, dividends, and interest this year, plus savings I accumulated these last few years. I do not think Trump-style shocks to the Markets or economy will benefit me. The red-hat folks bounce from one extreme (higher rates) to another (lower rates), and cheering on dismantling fifty years of free-trade institutions (tariffs) will produce good returns, which is unlikely, I think. But I accept that Trump won and that he gets another chance; I will watch, try not to wince, and grab some more popcorn.

To be clear, I prefer policies based on income growth for mid-to-low-income families and stabilization of basic costs (gas, food, homes, rent, utilities, and so on). I believe free trade lowers prices and improves goods, services, and fiscal instruments. From what I can see, Wall Street and many corporate folks don’t like it as it pressures them to produce better and cheaper products.

But I digress. The blog is about what I am feeling and experiencing; these thoughts are on my mind more. Returning to the story…

I wrote the blog, spoke, and texted Deborah to wish each other a happy Monday, and did my usual morning things. The liberal (i.e., fair-traded) coffee fueled my morning. The blog was done in the late morning. I dressed and headed into Safeway.

The soaking of beans for today’s chili was missing from yesterday’s blog. I bought a few kits from the Women’s Bean Project, and I planned to make chili today for lunch. I have mentioned this group before; during the pandemic, they were the only folks I could get dried beans from, and I like their products as they help people and are also good. It’s a bit more money, but the handwritten note on the box stating who packed it tells you that you helped someone by using these beans and seasonings. Today, I was using the Firehouse No. 10 Chili package. I soaked the beans overnight.

I followed directions (mostly, but used 1/2 the amount of onion), boiled the beans, and then simmered. I shopped at Safeway and got the items I needed to finish the chili (now buying the cheaper items–see above). The meat manager all but handed me a ham, $6, and was all but putting them in people’s carts. I called Corwin, and he later stopped by and got two cheap ones. These are the plain, not spiral-sliced, hams. I somehow got my bill to just under $90 and two bags. I self-checked out and flagged a security check.

I had dropped a set of apple sauce single servings and had to put the singles in my bag after scanning the barcode on the broken paper holder. The self-checkout then played a movie of me playing stuff directly in my bag. Yes, I was caught by AI! The store staff had to watch the replay of the possible crime and approve each moment. The staff was annoyed as they were busy talking about family matters (not watching me) and had to stop and worship the AI with a wave of their passcard.

It was fascinating to me. The video had a green box over the bag I loaded the items into. I suspect that had I pocketed an item, it would have directed it to my person. Exciting. Having been approved, I paid and was allowed to take my items to the EV. I will eat the apple sauce slowly, now enjoying every AI-tested bit.

Back at the house, I unloaded my approved items and chopped and assembled the chili. I used the jars of instant stock (I saw it being used in New Orleans) and hot water instead of buying what is mostly water in those boxes. The taste was the same (and was much cheaper–see above). It was not too spicy and had a nice flavor. I had three bowls.

I sent a note to Corwin and he was over after work and had a large bowl and raided some of my frig pickles. I learned I was right that he had finished the asparagus pickles. We chatted for a while.

I headed to Wildwood and talked to JR for a while. He is often there on Mondays. His son was married there on Sunday in a big party. We had a few beers. They have a pay-it-forward board where folks can buy a beer for someone. There was a colon cancer survivor line for $25 on the board, and I used $15 for my drinks (leaving $10 for someone else to use). We talked about travel, politics (we don’t agree on much), and beer; an excellent mix.

I also read more of Pastor Ken’s book, now through chapter 3. I sent a few comments.

Deborah spoke to me before she went to sleep. It is always good to open and close our days together.

I had a few beers, smaller ones, and read, and then headed home.

I was still tired from Sunday’s pancake breakfast. Between things, I also did the laundry on Monday. I read for a while and was soon asleep again, around 10:30.

Thanks for reading!

 

 

 

 

It has been a year since I was laid off on April 20. It was the date my career at Nike ended, albeit with a massive package and two years of salary, insurance, etc. I remember this Monday as a work day. I did not even think about it on Sunday as it was Easter, and Z and I had pancakes to make. I was tired after that and stayed home, passing on various Easter Dinner offers. But there was a slight hint of melancholy on the anniversary day.

Looking back, I wish I had enjoyed my retirement longer. I do not think there was an opening until the layoff with its package appeared in my life, but I do not miss corporate life, and wish I had left it sooner. I remember having to do nearly impossible computer things with insane deadlines and swollen budgets invented by managers with sights set on higher office. The managers, directors, and vice presidents always assumed credit for success (I only had one project fail in all my years at Nike). The budget excess found a home with a wink and a nod in another failing project. Status meetings were often early or late to include other time zones. I am not missing my work at a multinational company at all.

Nike’s HR asked me to reconsider my departure due to my brain tumor. They wanted me, and it was kind of them, to put me back on the payroll and take medical leave instead. The recommendation was to let Nike’s generous leave policy cover me during my recovery. I took the layoff package and turned down an HR VP. It all worked out.

I enjoy owning my day and jealously protect it from volunteering possibilities. I have noticed that retired folks exchange one busy life for another. I want to do some new things and something different. I choose to travel, write, and play board games. I did take a church position that takes some focus, but I guard my choices.

With the passing of Susie, colon cancer, and surviving a brain tumor, I will try to enjoy life for a while.

Sunday started with me waking to find Deborah’s ‘Happy Easter’ text. I rose and found my laptop on my work table in the fireside room next to the kitchen. I woke early, pushed the start button on the coffee I had assembled the night before, and started on the blog. I had only an hour to write. I managed to get 3/4 of it done before I had to stop, time-boxed, and hopped into the shower. I did the usual things. Today, I put on a pride tie for Easter as it has all the Easter colors and a good message for the holy day. This is with a white shirt, dark blue slacks, and green sweater vest.

I loaded the cooled ham and butter. Yesterday, I put the grills and other items in Air VW the Gray’s cargo hold. It is a quick trip, and Jack lets me into the First United Methodist Church of Beaverton, where I start to unload. Dondrea and Z (Z is head of Hospitality at the church; anyone over 13 is considered a member and can serve on most committees, even lead) appeared, and we assembled the kitchen for pancake cooking and ham reheating.

I showed the secret electrical plug in the drawer, connected a short extension cord to it, and started up one grill. This was a shock to Methodist folks, as apparently, the knowledge of this plug was lost in the various personnel changes. I just smiled. The other two plugs on the other counter were also a surprise. My two grills and one borrowed were running after a quick wash.

Z and I soon updated our skills and made it through some practice pancakes, and we got out the ham for a taste. We thinned the batter, remembering it looked thin, but then the cakes thickened and worked. Our first ones, failures, were not cooked in the center, but looked good. Yikes!

The ham was well received. It was roasted at the house and then reheated with foil to prevent it from becoming pork jerky. I bought a cheap ($31) ham because the flavor is not overly done or too salty—just ham. I did not glaze or use cloves, as it would not be presented, but disassembled and served. I first put it out, but the ham was not coming apart as easily as I hoped. We had to slice it in the kitchen. I will have to get a larger one next time, as that would make it easier.

I let others serve, set up tables, decorate, and all of that. I find it best to let others take over, as these are Methodists. Methodists love to set up and arrange meals. It’s best to let them go. Soon, everything was ready.

Z and I raised a pile of pancakes with only a few takers. We had more workers than customers, but eventually the workers ate, and others showed up much later than the 9:30 start time, but it all worked. Z and I just made more hot pancakes. Hot food was always on top, and the heat radiated to the other food. Putting the new stuff on the bottom would have been more de rigueur, but the process would more likely make a mess. We just stacked ’em.

The food was good, and we had about twenty to thirty customers. We had one distressed older man who looked homeless and was angry, but seemed to like the company and the food. His hands shook, and he was pretty rude. But he liked the food, and I think he resisted enjoying himself. He was mostly ignored, but he never crossed any lines, and I never thought him a hazard. He attended the church service, and we could hear his voice here and there. He was from a more evangelical background and did not like the bilingual service. The last time I saw him, he was waving his hands and clearly unhappy with the service and experience. But he left without incident.

It is not the job of Christians to judge: He got breakfast, I brought him coffee, and we let him go with his complaints. Happy Easter!

This year’s sermons were less serious and focused on the joy in the Easter text in John. Our Pastor Ken and the Pastor of Principe de Paz (a group that also worships at our church in a Spanish service), Enrique Caldera, gave a message. Dondrea ensured the service ran according to plan and gave an Easter prayer. An egg hunt followed, with Dondrea discovering she was running that, too. A squirrel joined in and was last seen running away with a blue plastic egg.

We had cleaned up the kitchen, and I could head out. As I said, I demurred when offered Easter Dinner. I returned home, unloaded, and froze a few spare pancakes (according to the NYT, you reheat them in the oven). I soon stumbled into the bedroom. After an hour of rest, I sent a note that I was not joining dinner and made a salad for lunch. I include many olives from the Olive Pit I bought on my trip back.

After considerable effort, Deborah and I connected my iPad to her run of Matlock, and we shared/watched another episode. Deborah was catching up with her laundry and cleaning after spending a weekend together while we watched. I still like the show and speculate in my mind where it is headed. In this episode, we learned a few more things that should have been obvious, and my mind drew paths of possible solutions. Deborah rang off and headed to bed.

It was late afternoon, and I started on something I wanted to do all day. I rolled the bed out of the office and folded it. I sat at my desk and found it still like May 19, with even a church bulletin from that day. This was the day before my surgery, and Linda was using the office as a place to sleep during my recovery.

I grabbed my laptop, plugged it in again on my desk in my office, and started picking up the area. It was like waking up after a year. Here was the office I had set up, and I had one day left to get better—time to be better and enjoy this.

Somewhere in this story I finished the blog on Sunday.

It was dusty, and things were thrown here and there, but a coaster from a breakfast in Texas and postcards from New Orleans were still where I left them. The program from A Midsummer Night’s Dream 2023 is still saved. I felt welcomed. I was back home, though a disheveled home. Easter, April, and spring are all times to start again, some of the melancholy left, and the laptop was left in its usual place, plugged into its landing station (sadly, the fast cable is lost and my internet connection is still slow, but I will replace it soon). The backup drive is now plugged into the landing station.

I was tired, so I made dinner of baked beans with freshly made wheat bread. Then, I watched the first episode of Doctor Who’s new season. It was fast-paced and well put together, and I was surprised by the storyline. I would recommend it. And he wears a kilt for the first part of the filming, got to love that.

After that, I headed to bed early, 10PM, as the time zone change and workout in the kitchen started to slow me down. I soon slept, reading first, waking at 2, and then again before sunrise. There were pleasant, but forgotten dreams. Thanks for reading!

 

I rose after 7. I was still confused about what time zone I reside in. I started by reading a text from Deborah—she wishes me ‘good morning’ most mornings in her time zone while I sleep. I soon found the kitchen; it had not moved, and the coffee pot was full of liberal joy (fair-traded coffee). I took some mashed potatoes, chopped some onion fine, and added that and milk to the mix. I then broke an egg and beat all that together. I fried that in butter, and I remixed it when it got brown/dark. I opened a can of peaches and included half of them for breakfast; the rest went back in the frig. I stole some ham from the church ham that I started to bake while cooking breakfast. The potatoes needed salt (perfect for me), and I enjoyed breakfast.

I next started on the blog. I wrote about my first full day back in Oregon, Friday. I also did my usual download transactions into Quicken, many of which are still from my travels. I checked the news, but it was dark and not liberal. I spent a few hours writing.

I was still tired, I put away the laundry, did the dishes, and watched the gray and rain turn to a chilly sunny day. The wind, from the high desert, was cold, almost brutal without a coat, but the sun was hot and warm. I walked on my lawn and marveled at the blooms and roses with buds. The China rose was already blooming; it is always the first and last. The story of the rose is interesting: Wikipedia. My rosemary is blooming, and the local bees are happy with it.

I saw in the transactions that the earthquake insurance was paid. It is just under $700 a year, and insurance is now a significant expense for the house.

Natala was bartending at The 649, and soon I had a beer and was reading Pastor Ken’s manuscript. I read the introduction, ending, and first two paragraphs. He asked me to look at the flow and how to make it more approachable. I will read the first five chapters and see what I can suggest.

I sat outside and inside; when I got cold, I would change locations. I had soup, later a quesadilla, and two red ales. I left mid-afternoon as I could not shake the cold. I took Air VW the Gray back to the house.

Earlier, I had unloaded most of the games from the cargo hold and loaded cooking grills (I have two). I am helping to cook breakfast before church on Easter. I had cooled the ham and put in in the frig with plenty of tinfoil. I will take it with me on Easter morning. I crawled into bed and got warm again, nodding off a few times.

I rose before 5, put on my shoes, and boarded the EV. Traffic through Beaverton was slow as the unexpected sunshine brought people out. There was some slowing on Highway 26 inbound to Portland, but nothing unusual. I soon arrived at Richard’s, and Lauren was there, too. With Kathleen arriving a few minutes later, we had a four-person game.

Another Kickstarter had come in for Richard, and we were the first play (though Richard had played an online version) of Stupor Mundi, a deck-building and resource management game, with the usual over-the-top implementation from a Kickstarter. You build a castle for yourself with lovely 3D pieces. It is also a race-like game, like Concordia and Istanbul.

I was keeping up, but soon Richard flew to the top with Lauren chasing him. Kathleen was at the bottom until the last moment and pushed one point ahead of me. I came in later, but I liked the game and would want to play it again.

With the game over and Kathleen now with a car, I headed home. The night was dry, and the drive uneventful.

I was soon home, plugged in the EV, and in my PJs. I read for a while and soon fell asleep.

Thanks for reading.