Author: alohawild

I rose before the sun did on Wednesday, 7-something, and found the coffee made. I had been organizing the house and not packing much. Richard, my gamer friend, thinks nothing of hiking all day, told me on Tuesday that we could just drive through or catch the shuttle bus for the Utah parks, Zion and Bryce, and they are great, and hiking is optional. Perfect for Deborah and me, though we managed to enjoy long sets of steps and slippery rocks in Iceland.

Z is not available for games; school work calls.

Another happy surprise was a note from the USA Social Security Administration that my application was accepted and my decent-sized (for early retirement) would start, using the unique government logic, in June. A month more than I expected, but still, it is all done, and I have my official letter of benefits. This fits my planning from years ago. I will have a steady income for half of 2026! Excellent.

My focus is to get the family (fireside) room cleared of loose items, as Jeff will be in next week to replace the flooring. I have moved all my post-tax cash, except my L3Harris stock (which is not yet at 16 months ownership and enjoying an insane 67% increase), into a moderate-interest savings account at US Bank. I have the home improvements/maintenance changes to pay for this year and wish to defer any withdrawals until later (and maybe after the slow correction I am seeing in my investments reverses). I have medical bills piling up and some mold remediation (nothing unhealthy) that I am putting off for now. I figure that I want something I can walk on now.

I am experiencing some return of the skin rashes, but at a much slower pace. It is interesting. My next shot of Skyrizi is three weeks away. Something for after Easter. I suspect I should not decorate the pen with bunnies and ducks to celebrate April.

Re-focusing on the narrative, I write all morning, have a banana with my coffee, liberal (i.e., fair trade) and red-bagged Equal Exchange brand, while I assemble a long narrative and struggle again with Grammarly (which leaves Richard’s name mispelled, but it wanted to rewrite sentences to different meanings). I am beginning to agree with Deborah that I should write my text in MS Word, then copy it into WordPress, and abandon my seven years with Grammarly. Hmmmm.

I finish the narrative by 10:30 (I prefer to be done by 10, but that is not happening for a while), and start my day. I add more items to the spare bedroom where my new suitcase waits for its first chance to travel with me. I also started adding the usual items to my red Nike gym bag. I continue to organize the house more. I take Susie’s beer glasses, put them in a box, and will give them to Mariah.

Corwin arrives after I have corned beef and mushy veggies (adding some fresh cabbage as I reheat it in the microwave) and has some left over too. We move the table out of the fireside room, remembering how to disassemble it, fix a pin that came loose, and put it back together in the dining room (its former home). The area is now crowded with the stationary bike, which I often still use. I had recycled a pile of old iPhones, iPods, the broken Epson Tank printer (not getting one of those again), and moved the table for the printer in the garage.

With that done and agreements for Corwin to clean the house the week before I return in place (I will also have him stop by as DHL is sending a package on Tuesday (small book, Reminiscences of a Stock Operator, from the 1920s I ordered after reading about it in the footnotes of the 1929 narrative I am reading). Mariah suggested a Happy Hour dinner at Hopworks in Portland, but Corwin could not make it (He makes at least $50 a day, seven days a week, before taxes, delivering food, and this, plus his dishwasher/cooking job, pays his bills and leaves him with some extra). He can’t afford a work night in exchange for dinner. I respect that.

I give Corwin a leaf that is mounted in a frame. Susie had it painted as a phoenix in China for the aristan that was on our boat for the river cruise in 1998. Corwin also got a tiger card from the same trip. All to remember Susie.

The trip across Beaverton and Portland is lousy with traffic, and, as I talk to Deborah, I miss my usual path and instead head to Richard’s. Oops. But I take an alternative route that does not make me late and is a nice change from being stuck on bridges, though the view is nice up there. I arrive at Hopworks still early and enjoy chatting with Deboroah and our joy of seeing each other on Friday (assuming the war, Trump, random events, and TSA lines do not make a hash of our travel plans). The local Rosarians, the folks that run the Rose Festival in Portland, are meeting at the bar too, and look excellent in their blue sport coats (men and women). Jeremy Emerson, the group’s President, is smiling and chatting; the parade is on June 6th.

Mariah appears, and we enjoy chatting and some drinks (I stick to one cocktail as beer and I am not doing well). We try the chicken wings (very bad for you), and they are excellent. I get the sweet chili sauce as I do not want to discover what Buffalo sauce would do wtih my tummy now. I see Mariah’s new ride, a new blue Honda hatchback. Mariah tells me she is shocked by how nice and fast this gas hybrid runs and enjoys its 50 miles-per-gallon efficiency. She could not be happier with it. A surprise for a gear-head and now former Mustang owner.

I hand over the glasses with instructions that they are not relics and can be given away, recycled, or used. I am happy to find them a home.

I return home in light traffic and finish the second Star Trek Academy episode. I read, clean, and organize some more. I discovered the tattered remains of the paperwork for trips to Istanbul, NYC (when Susie had her stroke), and my second business trip for Nike (I kept the copy of the visa application for India I discovered in case I needed the information for another visa), while sorting papers stuffed here and there. It looks like in the chaos of my busy working life, I never sorted or returned to these piles; I just stuffed them in a drawer or under some gaming stuff. Playbills and other flotsam and jetsam are the paper trail of travel. My eyes get watery when I remember all the good and bad, but I trash it, since it is just paper and only has meaning to me. Clutter from a good life of travel, some more than a decade old. I have less emotional trouble trashing my 2015 taxes.

I finish the day reading more of 1929: Inside the Greatest Crash in Wall Street History—and How It Shattered a Nation and reach 1933. FDR is not elected, but chooses, even with a begging letter from Hoover, to do nothing until his inauguration (March in the old calendars, now done January). FDR takes much heat from historians now for this cold-blooded political move, as the US economy will slip past the tipping point in these months. It is good reading, but the author is now less narrative and more historical. The wealthy seem untouched by The Crash so far. Hmmm.

According to the book, Winston Churchill was in the USA during the Crash and remained a guest of the rich and powerful for a few years. Getting paid for speaking engagements. He is identified by the author Sorkin as one of the many victims of Wall Street’s salesmanship. He owns tens of thousands after The Crash, as he was far out on the margin before the crash (he needs money, lots of it). In 1932, nearly the end of his trip, he stepped in front of a car (looking the wrong way), and he was seriously hurt. His losses, accident, and political fall (he is out in the Wilderness, as he describes in his autobiography) depress him. It is a cautionary tale of the 1920s, as Sorkin points out.

I close the book and sleep. I wake after midnight, thinking it is morning. I do a lot of rolling over. I finally sleep about 2:30. I do not rise until about 8 on Thursday, with no dreams that I recall. I am spinning as I am not packed yet and have to travel on Friday.

Joan S has agreed to drop me off, but with the war and possible traffic SNAFUs, we changed my pick up to 6 for a 10 in the morning flight.

Thanks for reading.

 

 

 

I rose with my alarm at 6:45, and it was dark, ugh! I had a 9:30 game at Ricards, and time seems to fly in the morning. I had coffee ready to start, and I just pushed the button to start it now (it is set to start at 7:15). I had the last banana for breakfast (I will acquire more later). My potassium levels are always low, and I like bananas.

I have limited time, but I download the Quicken transactions (then forget to finish reviewing them and do that at night) and read (mostly delete) my emails. I read the New York Times and Semofar’s email summary of news. I check, and the Social Security Administration still has not approved my application (it is now two months and four weeks longer than was suggested, and I am glad I gave them the maximum amount of time — it was approved on Wednesday). I call the SSA, and their phone tree does not let me speak to a human; instead, it says my determination will not be released until May, but is approved one more day later, despite the phone tree’s promise.

I finally started on the blog and discovered (as today) that Grammarly is not running well and is missing things. I write a note about that in the blog and then realize that I am running over. I then hop into the shower and rush. I remember it is Saint Patrick’s Day, and I put on my usual green sweater vest and dress shirt. This is, for me, the most comfortable clothing. T-Shirts feel sloppy and half-dressed, but are the de rigueur for IT, board gamers, and the Pacific Northwest. I try to get some interesting ones.

I have noticed that my shirts and pants are loose, and I am back to suspenders. I have, as I said yesterday, gone down to 225 pounds. I am on a slow glide of not gaining and losing weight for travel and events. This seems to work and helps me avoid the ups and downs most folks experience with dieting. It can be frustrating as I go up and down about five pounds, but then my weight settles on a new, lower number about every six months. Though the holidays knocked my weight back up for a while, it was fun, and I have no regrets.

I do avoid carbohydrates as they are bad for my Type 2 Diabetes (controlled with diet and exercise, to sound like a Big-Parma commercial), and beer is limited to about two a week (and less with my tummy issues). Cocktails are expensive, and I think that creates its own limiting factor (I don’t drink cheap booze).

My skin rash is staying reduced, and my shedding is less reptilian and hardly noticeable now. I will soon finish all the creams and think this Skyrizi is working. I am surprised and happy. Deborah did send me this SNL skit on it here (really funny).

Returning to the narrative, Air VW the Gray at 91% charge took me through a different route, and I avoided Highway 217. I joined Highway 26 at the top of Sylvan Hill and joined a slow-moving downhill movement. Oddly, the traffic moved at a pace that recharged the EV, with my charge returning to 89% by the time I reached Portland Downtown on the other side of the tunnel. I was ten minutes late, having started about ten minutes later than usual. It is a 40-minute trip to the NE Portland Area on Tuesday morning.

We (Richard, James, and I) got frustrated wtih each other while playing Tainted Grail. I was annoyed that the game told us to do something, but there was nothing to do. Ugh! But I have been here with role-playing gamers. We tried to slow down and speak more softly, and we started to find our way. We think there are only two chapters left for us to play, and that puts some pressure on us. Next time, in about three weeks, I think we will be ready to slow down a bit. Still, I have found these later chapters to be immersive and interesting. Richard fights, by himself, a dragon, and James barely survives an encounter he fought alone. Both wanted to play their characters to the max as they see the end coming. For me, I am listening to the story and trying to understand what is happening. We find our focus and enjoy the game; Richard suggests we finish the chapter rather than take the provided shortcut. We agree.

I head home after the game; we ran over. It is nearly 3 when I get back to Beaverton — traffic was light, and I stopped at the Golded Valley Brewery for St. Patrick’s Day specials. Something that was lemon and more lemon with Irish Whiskey to drink, and Bangers and Mash. I used one of the coupons I received when buying gift cards last year, and my meal and drinks were delivered in a flash. It was delicious, and I was hungry. I finished it too fast, but it was great. I gave my waiter the sum of the coupon, $10, for a tip.

I talked to the manager as I left; their lunch traffic was disappointing. They hope that dinner will be better and busier. I was wondering, with gas prices having no limit and the mess that is travel now, if Americans will stop splurging. Nothing will cause a recession faster in the USA than if consumers stop spending. Buckle up, dear readers.

Historically, and from my memory of the 1990s-2000s, Portland slips into recessions early and then stays longer. We do not have multiple big employers to help us break out early (and Intel and Nike are already having their own issues).

In Beaverton, I stop by the 185th Corner market and get some potatoes (I forgot them). I get bananas and, a bit early, some necartines, a favorite. I cannot help myself, even though they are a bit hard, and I eat two of them on Tuesday.

Disembarking from Air VW the Gray (‘de-EVing’?), I start to organize. I talk to Deborah a few times, but I am sleepy from leftovers from Sunday’s cooking and serving, and the food and drink are making me relaxed. Deborah says goodnight (she has an early morning on Wednesday).

Pain wakes me as my feet and legs are still unhappy with standing and walking in the past few days. I return to the kitchen and slice up some veggies, add them to a large pan with water and salt. I pull out the pre-cooked corned beef (2.85 pounds for about $25 at Costco). I turn on Star Trek Academy after avoiding buying Paramount+ a second time (Deborah bought it for me last year as a birthday present), and watch the first episode. It is amazing. But the second episode stops me because it has too much romance for me; likely, that is a sideline, and the action will pick up.

(notice the cabbage is still green at this point…should have harvested it then!)

I follow directions and microwave the corned beef, and it heats through. I add it and its juices from the bag it is reheated in to my pot of now-overcooked veggies (oops), and my cabbage is fading to white. Well, it is my usual dinner, and I revel in it. Eric K and Susie used to give me crap about that. I smile at the memories and dig in. It is perfect for me, and I remember some of the dinners I have made for Corwin, Susie, and the church. It tastes better with memories. No tears, just food.

I make coffee as I am still tired, and later add some Kālua as I have nothing Irish. But still, it seems right for today. The show and the food make it a good ending to a misty Oregon day.

It looks like an Irish cook exploded in the kitchen. I bring it back into order. I pack away enough corned beef and musy veggies for a few lunches (though Corwin will often vacuum up any good leftovers). I have half a cabbage left (uncooked) to microwave in bits for those meals. The kitchen is still in need of a good cleaning, but it is no longer comically messy.

I have mixed feelings as I remove all the unfinished work from my table in the family (fireside) room. Before, when I was working and caring for Susie or recovering from various surgeries or treatments, sitting listening to music and painting figures and building electronics was excellent, but now I want to get out and do things, plan the next trip, write, play games, and run role-playing sessions. Models, figures, and electronic work are not shared experiences, and indoor work has lost most of its appeal. It feels strange to pack them away, but it is likely that someday I might need them again.

My scaples, eyewear with 3x bifocals, and paints are put in boxes and moved out. Expensive and difficult-to-find brushes join them. Electronics are placed in the garage cabinets or stacked with other items. Piles of yet-to-be-primed figures are set aside in my office. The cover for my table is damaged, and I ball it up and take it out to the trash. Paints and glues are put away in bags and a carrying case. The table is again a flat space wtih nothing stacked on it. It needs to be moved to make way for the flooring work next week. I will see if Corwin and I can move it (when disassembled, it is not that heavy). I feel like a corner in my life is being turned. I am happy about it.

More of the 1929 book fills the end of my day. I am now reading about the 1930s, and the aftermath of The Crash remains uncertain to the folks living it. Hoover is struggling to help, but the country is paying for unrestrained debt (dear reader, does this remind you of something current?), and the damage is serious. The markets rise and then fall to new lows as investors believe, for a moment, that this time it is the recovery. The wealthy are still making it work for them. But the spiral is beginning, and soon the horrors of the deepening Great Depression will start in the mid-1930s. I get sleepy and stop reading. I soon nod off.

I sleep and dream that I am back in school, taking a physics test, but I have no idea what the answers are or how I missed all the class until now. I try to answer some of the test questions and discover, to my horror, that there are questions on the back of the test I missed; I have used up all my time. I am f**ked. I wake 6ish, and it takes a while for me to shake the dream and think about how to answer the questions, then fall back asleep and continue the dream, scribbling more answers. Maybe Star Trek Academy is not a good answer for an evening show! I wake again and climb out of bed, coughing as I enjoy the pollen.

Thanks for reading.

 

It was not frosty, with blue skies and some hints of cotton-candy clouds here and there. Not at all what we expect in the Pacific Northwest in mid-March. And nothing we expected as we crossed the Ides of March (15th); we just enjoyed another three days of rivers of rain. Coffee was ready for me, and I was moving slowly again, and my memory was not working well, and I could not recall words, and I often entered a room in the house and wondered why I was there. I did not shake that until the afternoon, and my writing became a constant process of looking things up. I returned to the blog’s published text and made over 10 updates; I wrote mangled sentences, and Grammarly is not working properly anymore, and missed them. Before it would see them, I would revise them, usually adding a few words to finish the thought or removing extra connective words as I changed my mind in mid-typing and did not make all the changes. I think Grammarly has too much AI now to find simple mangled sentences.

Grammarly: I may replace it soon with another product, but my expectations are low, since a type-as-you-go product is not what the market is selling now. Instead, according to their model, I should submit my work to ChatGPT or like LLMs and have to return an improved text. Not what I want. I may have to write in MS Word and then copy back; I have had to do that before. I have used Grammarly for 375 weeks straight, according to its count, more than 7 years. It has enjoyed nearly 27 million words from me (or you should feel bad for it, having had such a terrible diet of my writing, and this may explain why it is going out of its AI mind).

I got the blog done just before lunchtime. Next, I heated up the leftover jambalaya, the red version. I had that while I watched some YouTube videos on Battleship Texas and other news, while I ate my food. It was a bit spicier than usual when reheated. I started on the laundry, leaving the bed to be changed on Thursday when I do my final packing.

I showered, scrubbed, and applied almost the last of my creams. The Skyrizi seems to be working, but I am willing to double up for now. I will be done with the creams about the time I travel.

I am clearing the family room (fireside room) and getting it ready for some work. Jeff is going to replace the floor with new vinyl interlocking tiles. He will have to demo my tile work from years ago. I have selected a wood-like pattern with white and brown tones to fit the carpet and the wood in the house. I think it will look better and certainly will clean up easier. I am tired of grout lines!

I binge-watched the second season of Foundation on Apple+. I did not get much more done than laundry, starting on packng packing, setting the combination on the new bag, and trying to bring some order to the house.

I decided to make dinner and defrosted a pork chop by running water over it. I found a jar of Alfredo Sauce and some nice pasta (from Italy) and made a nice salad (using the chopped leftover celery, green pepper, and a carrot). I had all of this going on when Jeff and his son showed up to measure and talk about the work, and Mom Wild called. She was lonely and unhappy because no one was visiting her. Linda has had some health challenges these couple of weeks, I explained, but Mom would have none of that. She demanded I show up now. I explained it was not possible as I was in Oregon, but she was sure a good son would show up. It was an unhappy call, and the Alfrado Sauce boiled over at the same time (Mom Wild has powerful VooDoo).

Jeff and his son who is much taller than Jeff and I measured out the area and we talked about the demo and I paid the first part of the work. He will do the pantry floor, the closet (still in the original gray carpet when the carpet people missed it, and I did not notice until later), and fix or replace some baseboards.

As Jeff says, there is no limit once you get started, and we stopped at changing the molding, repainting the walls, and going too far. We will let the kitchen and walls be. He will start the work next week when I am away. I have put off the mold control, as this seems more pressing to me (and since I can see it will not be depressing to spend the cash, enough for a nice trip to Paris).

With Jeff paid and measurements taken, and going with the basic rule, do what he would do if it were his home, while not trying to increase the scope. He will call or text me if I need to make decisions. His wife, Robyn, who used to live across the street when she was a little girl, will be helping him with my stuff. They will be moving all the stuff out (thus, while I am moving things now), and then she plans to find a new order for them. All good.

I then got my now slightly overcooked but not dried-out pork chop (I fried it with just oil, salt, and pepper), pasta in sauce (with extra sauce to slide the pork in), and a salad, and continued my binging of Foundation. Almost too much food, but I was hungry. Also, the guilt and stress (Mom Wild) always make me eat.

But I have lost five pounds from the rash, tummy issues, and chopping and cooking for about 8 hours. Down to 225 and headed to that elusive 200.

I took a short walk as it was a lovely day, and opened all the windows and doors. I made my ring goals based on my Apple Watch, which continues to suggest they might be set too low. Nope, I like the gratification. I stood when ordered and watched some of Foundation on Apple+. I enjoyed it and completed the whirlwind that was season 2. Wow! I missed all the clues, ugh!

I then dressed for bed, not starting season 3, and read more of the 1929 book by Mr. Sorkin, which is now into the thirties, as it covers the aftermath of the 1929 Crash and some remaining chicanery on the market, and now tax evasion. By 1931, it was clear that Hoover was done for and that his hands-off-and-then-on approach was failing to inspire the public. Again, the story is hard to put down.

I put the book down and soon fell asleep. I wake to my alarm at 7, having heard Susie’s voice at night, but I could not remember what she said. I suspect she suggested not overcooking the cabbage on St. Patrick’s Day, but just a guess.

Thanks for reading.

 

Sunday started with me rising at 6:45 and assembling two pots, one smaller (and soon to be troublesome) and one larger. Time to cook jambalaya! I cooked the chicken first. It stuck to the bottom, and I scraped the brown bits off to prevent burning and mixed it into the chicken; lots of good brown bits. I then added the sausage. I think I would reverse that process next time. The sausage released more goodness, and I was able to scrape more. By 8ish, I moved the meat to two trays. I scraped the bottoms of the pans again.

I had chopped everything on Saturday and had it all in bags. I dumped in the Trinity (onion, green pepper, celery) and added The Pope (garlic) and let that cook down. I had some reserved to add at the last moment: The Cheat (Add some crunch that will add to the pleasure of eating) as texture matters. This was another hour of stirring and making sure it does not burn. Scraping bottom here and there. It needed to be wilted and almost gone. It is for flavor. About 9, I reached the breakdown. The smaller pan did not cook as quickly as the larger pan, even on the same settings.

I hate to buy stock, but I don’t make it (yet), and I did not want to assemble it from a mix I use. Instead, I had the boxes. I measured out 5 cups. I added a large (28oz) can of pureed tomatoes to the larger pan (red, plus some cane sugar to break the acid), having drained the liquid with a fine colander. I meant to have crushed, but this worked better. New Orleans Cooking School Spices went in (they have 1/3 the salt of more available spices). Cajun Power Worcestershire Sauce too joined the pots. Kitchen Bouquet went into the small pan (brown). All the meat was returned, and then the broth was added. This was brought to a boil.

And things go sideways. I added the rice and see that the New Orleans Cooking School says to turn off the pots. My Apple Watch congratulates me on my workout and standing. I cleaned up while waiting. I returned to the pots, and the rice is chalk, and the pots are cold. Ugh! Disaster! I added some water and applied heat, and it was only slightly better. I should have stuck to my usual plan.

Trying not to ask God for a miracle for cooking, I take a shower, not wanting to be personally flavored for church! Yes, I did all this in my PJs. My Apple Watch congratulates me on my workout (scrapping and stirring) and standing. I am shocked, disappointed, and sad that I failed on a basic. I can cook rice, usually!

I am dressed in my church shoes, usual pants, suspenders (my pants are falling off again, making belts risky), and a T-shirt from The Legacy Museum in Montgomery, Alabama. I work on the blog, getting some of it started, and ignore the kitchen (the pots are on above melt and will likely burn, but it’s my last chance).

At ten, the rice is cooked, and though the small pot has burned on the bottom, I can work around it. The larger pot is just brown and delicious on the bottom. I need two larger pots if I am doing this dual pot setup. The spices are slightly off as I expected; I add a small handful of regular salt (sea salt has too many flavors and can unexpectedly overpower the pot, and different brands have different impacts).

Saved! I load the allunum pans onto a half-sheet pan. The trays are not safe to move without support, and they are hot. I drive my load of NOLA goodies to First United Methodist Church and drive with care. I arrived with everything intact and delivered it to the church kitchen. Instructions are not to reheat until ten minutes (rice stays warm a long time).

(I made two of these…this is red)

I let others set up, and I am already tired, so I drink even more coffee. I have been drowning myself in coffee this morning. No time for focusing on anything but the tasks this Sunday. I do help here and there, but try to let others step in. Z is everywhere doing things.

I take my spot as usher, watch, and walk into the pews as the church starts, and welcome folks I missed while I was busy. The service is compressed, and Dondrea has the reins, keeping everything moving. We have a speaker at 12:30, Mariah Rocker, Public Programs and Exhibits Manager at Oregon Black Pioneers. We cannot overrun our time slot.

Dondrea gives her witness on the South Trip. She recalled us standing at the spot where the March over the Selma Bridge began and ended; it was a powerful moment for her. We took pictures of our shoes at those places. I follow, lowering the mic as I look like a hobbit next to Dondrea, and manage not to speak into the mic a few times (Ken waves at me to fix that, and I do). Doug follows me and covers his slides (later, I learned they were jumbled and he had to ad-lib a bit — been there) and says the trip brought him optimism, as folks have survived and prospered despite the repression. After the choir sang an amazing anthem, Seth followed (Kathy was ill) and covered his photos, which shared some of the joy we found in the trip and travel. All (I was told I was good) did well and fast. Ken followed with a sermon on my favorite part of Revelation, 21:1-7, “[W]ipe away every tear…Death will be no more.” As Tamara, the litergist of this service, I spoke the words almost from memory, softly as she read them. Ken was fast, covering the basics, and saying the promise is that God will interact directly with his people at the end: A New Song in a Strange Land. No doomsday stuff, just that last dream of happiness and joy in the text. Ken’s words seemed to connect it all together.

After the service, while we waited for the speaker and then the usual last-minute setup, we sipped coffee together. About 35 remained for the speaker (and food), including one visitor and kids, Brian, who works with Dondrea. Church folks told me they liked my letter. I wrote a request for money for the church and to pay off the roof, and folks were supportive.

Mariah Rocker covered the history of the Black experience in Oregon. She was clear when they had verified sources and when they were less sure. Mariah Rocker managed to be just a bit over 45 minutes long, telling the 450-year history of African Americans in Oregon, naming various Black Pioneers. She was a dynamic speaker, and her slides were not heavy with words; she avoided reading them.

As the Q&A started, I learned that Z was alone in the kitchen. I recruited others to help, and we moved the hot food without incident. The jambalya (red and brown in two pans), dreamy mac and cheese, Methodist Bourbon chicken, collard greens (one plain and one with bacon), peach cobbler, and various salads. We had enough food for twice our crowd! Ms. Rocker joined us for lunch, and I got to sit next to her while we talked. She was delightful.

Clean up was hard, but folks stepped up. Dondrea, I found doing dishes; next time, we will need a cleanup plan and help with it. Mel washed the floor in the Fireside Room (no longer carpet), where we held lunch in the newly refreshed space. It worked marvelously to use it. Another delight for me: using our refreshed space.

I was tired, my feet hurt, and my legs told me that I had stood long enough. I drove home, turned around, realized I had lost my bag of spices (Doug had taken it home in error), and searched for them. I had split the leftover jambalaya with Dondrea (her kids were over later and loved it). I reached home, unloaded my portion of NOLA goodness. I took a nap in the chair and wished Deborah a good night when she texted me. My nap was repeatedly interrupted by the Oscars report on my watch. I rose, grabbed 1929: Inside the Greatest Crash in Wall Street History—and How It Shattered a Nation, and headed to BJ’s Brewhouse. I read that the decommissioning of the USS Nimitz was delayed. It was ordered by Trump to the Caribbean. Yes, another war with Cuba seems to be on the drawing boards (crayon?) of the White House. Ugh! Time for a drink and food I did not make.

Annaliese was my waiter at the high tops of the bar. They had improved the lighting, and it was perfect for reading. No beer (too many calories and filling), but an Old Fashioned worked for me. I read about the crash, finally reaching that in the text that walks through the whole year, and realized the market had been crashing for a month before the bottom fell out on October 24, 1929, “Black Tuesday.” The story of the last-minute hidden attempts to stop the fall was fascinating. I am now on the other side of the collapse, about 2/3 of the way through the text and about 1/2 through the book (the extensive notes and bibliography add to its size). I ate California Flatbread for dinner (again, delicious but not crazy expensive or high in calories). I finished with a coffee and a shot of Amaretto to sip. I shared some book tips for Annaliese, handwriting the books and authors for her on the flotsam and jetsam you get when they use paper tickets.

Though I chat with the waiter, I am happy to end my social experiences and just read, eat someone else’s food, and enjoy a few lovely drinks alone. I am tired, but the ibuprofen works, and the pain is now in the background.

Home, I do the pots. I tackle the burned bits without trouble and soon have everything either clean or in the dishwasher. I head to bed and read more.

Soon I sleep, and the workout has me sleep until 7ish without any dreams that I remember, though I think I did walk the trading floor of 1929 in my dreams.

Thanks for reading!

 

It is Sunday as I write this, and I was up at 6:45 to start cooking the jambalaya, but the rice isn’t cooking right. I am in recovery mode and seeing if I can get it better without burning everything. So I am stressed.

Later: It worked out, and everyone loved it. I set the pans to heat on low and then ignored them for twenty minutes. That worked. Cooking is hard for me when it goes wrong, and just slow cooking is the answer (not my style). But I did not finish this blog until early Sunday evening. 

Annoying: My Internet connection failed at home on Sunday morning, so I was using my iPhone for access while I cooked. 

Going backwards, Richard and Laura and I talked about religion, the class I am teaching for Sunday School in May, and race issues for a while (avoiding, for the most part, talking about the President). We talked until after 11, and I arrived in Beaverton late. I quickly got into bed and started reading, and managed (I had a cup of coffee at Richard’s) to read another chapter, moving into August 1929 in the book about 1929. I then started to get sleepy and slept until just before 6:45, when I planned to start cooking for Sunday.

Before this, I managed to score dismally in my copy of the board game Grand Hotel Austria, including the add-on, Let’s Waltz. Richard and Laura were more than 75 points ahead of me at the end, and Richard won by about 10 points. Laura missed an achievement goal on her turn, and Richard scored first, earning an additional 10 points (Laura was unhappy to miss that and come in second). While I managed to end well, I had not been able to get an engine together like Laura and Richard. I was lost as usual in this game, but I do like all 3D models of desserts and drinks, and that you serve them to customers before they take a room in your hotel. I did score 15 points for serving the Pope. It was not nearly enough. Still, I enjoy the game and the close game between Richard and Laura. We then played three hands of Flip 7-card game, and each of us won one.

Before taking Air VW the Gray over to Portland, I chopped veggies and meat for two 12-serving portions of jambalaya. It was over three hours of chopping. Nine cups of onion, plus spare. And four cups, more green pepper and celery, each, slicing up 3 pounds of sausage, and disassembling a cooked Costco chicken. I watched a movie for some of the time, the new Dungeons and Dragons film. I stored all of this in bags to be ready for Sunday morning; I planned for it to be fresh for our church Southern-style lunch.

(This is Mom Wild’s bang-chopper. You put slices on the sharp metal — yikes — I cut myself — sharp — and slam it down. Best to use smaller slices, otherwise you smoosh it.)

I did use the EV to get to Safeway next. I was surprised it was still locked in charging mode when I tried to use it, and I had to unlock the charger (requiring three presses of the unlock button). It was frozen on 99% charge. I later learned that when under 100%, it stays locked even when set to take a partial charge. I must have slid the charge to only 99% the night before. Since its last update at the dealership, the VW has been charging at 80% by default, even at home. I have to override it to 100%. Hmmm.

Lunch, late, was Popeye’s, and somehow I paid $16 for lunch for three pieces of chicken, two small sides, and a giant Diet Coke. It was never that good of chicken. I should have had a chili at Wendy’s.

Before all of this, I rose around 7 and was not suprised to see the corner of my yard in the back filled with water again.