Author: alohawild

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.

 

 

 

 

 

With the time change and the later time for our First United Methodist Church service, I rose leisurely at 7. I made coffee and started on the blog. I did have time to read emails and update Quicken with transactions, texts, and calls, which were excellent distractions, but soon, I was back to writing the daily blog.

I managed to make liberal coffee this morning despite the time change, but today, I grabbed Trader Joe’s certified organic and fairly traded ground coffee and poured that into the French Press. It is dark and bitter, reminding you that it is a corporate product. Still, you can taste the Justice and Compassion for the fair trade certification with a hint, even in a corporate product, of Community. Hope is still there for a better world. In this election week, I recommend some liberal in your cup!

I have a banana with Trader Joe’s seasonal pumpkin spice and pecan oatmeal. Breakfast and the coffee quickly disappear. I am writing fast, but Saturday was a busy day, and it takes time to remember, assemble into a narrative, and edit (often undoing Grammarly’s help).

I am preaching today, and the sermon is already printed, paperclipped, and set in Air Volvo’s Biz class seat. I put it there yesterday, so there would be no chance I would show up without it. Air Volvo is low on gas and has a check engine light, and I dreamed about having an accident while driving and missing important meetings. My friends tell me of their dreams of wish fulfillment—incredible; my dreams express my thirty years as a corporate warrior and possible failures–anxiety I hide that manifests in my dreams.

The light loss depression (Jack reminded me it is really known as SAD, Seasonal affective disorder) and the deep sadness (the feeling of loss of control, the wish to just cry and never stop, and to wish to do nothing but be sad) from yesterday is gone. I believe some light, gaming, and various social interactions (plus beer and good food) cured it for now. This is good as today we will name the saints gone before us; this list includes Eric “Elric” Anderson, Susie Wild, and Rev.Dr. Orville and Mrs. Jean Nilson. My grief could overwhelm me, but I have things to do, like being terrified of giving the sermon!

I wear my pride tie, green sweater vest over a dress shirt, gray-blue LL Bean relaxed pants (still size 40 but barely held up by my belt—a size 38 waits for me in the closet, a tangible manifestation of a goal), and black dress shoes. I wear the hat I travel with, the brown wool hat. I am looking for a taller one, which would be in the 1920s style. The one I wear would never have existed back then, but it still looks normal to our modern sensibilities.

Air Volvo got me to the church on time, even with a surprising amount of slow-moving traffic for a Sunday. I had plenty of time and did not mind the 20 mph in 35 mph zones, but I thought it strange. I arrived as the previous church that shared our facilities, Emmaus Church, finished tearing down. Soon, the podium was in place, and I practiced (I had read through the text viewing it on my computer already) without a mic. I was stumbling over the words, and there were many distractions as First United Methodist started to assemble the usual setup for our service. I was in danger of over-preparing, so I stopped, got some coffee, and waited.

I said many good mornings as folks started to steam in. Paraments were reset to white for All Saints Day (observed).  Many people, and this did not make it easier for me, told me how excited and interested they were to hear my sermon. Oh my!

Aside: The colored cloths are the paraments in the altar area. Each day has specific colors matching the Christian Calendar (following an arcane process best to be looked up then remembered, here), but some change for events such as All Saints Day; white for today. In Western and Christian settings, white means purity and holiness. In contrast, this would closely match red in Eastern and non-Christian settings, with white representing the absence of color, representing death and grief.

The music is For the Saints, a favorite I can even sing. It puts tears in my eyes. A few moments later, it seems only seconds to me, Seth finishes reading my selected Gospel of John 21: 9-14, and soon he is playing the trumpet for Here Come the Saints with some of the words from Cedarmount Kids version with the first round stanza hinting at Lift Every Voice and Sing and the last saying, ‘When our leaders learn to cry,’ which is perfect, I think, for an election week.

I am up and managed to make only a few mistakes and stumble over only a few words. Despite the fear, I kept it friendly and light. If you would like to see the sermon, it is here. Sorry, the video has some sound issues, but my sermon and benediction are clear.

I joined Anne and Wayne for lunch again at Red Robin, and this time, I bought as they had the last couple of times. Among the topics we talked about at lunch were different types of drinks in New Orleans (NOLA), the source for absinthe (not in my sermon but mentioned in my blog), and what a Sazerac Cocktail (here) contains. We learned that our waiter, Carlson, has a twin brother, and we might meet him for Wayne’s planned birthday dinner at Red Lobster. I was hungry and had the two chicken breasts (these are split breasts–meaning two is just one full one) for the lower calory Ensalda Plater. Soon, we headed out, and I returned home, removed my tie and shoes, and rested for a while.

I chatted with a friend on the phone while watching the sun get down earlier today (time change), returned to the kitchen, and started assembling a Red Seafood Jambalaya according to the recipe, with a few changes from the New Orleans School of Cooking. The recipe does not match what Chef Reneé did in my demo class, and I added just a bit of his improvements: cane sugar (a tiny bit) and shrimp boil liquid (also tiny).

I was unhappy with the flavor or texture, but it strongly hints at NOLA’s versions I had while there. The smokey ham I added and cooked to almost burned was excellent (more bacon than ham). I would go for a brown version with no seafood next time with some tomatoes. I would add a second set of trinity to cook with the rice to add to the texture, one of Chef Reneé changes.

I thought the 4-person size was too small, but it is more than I thought. I will have to send some to Corwin! He will add hot sauce to it and enjoy the smoked NOLA flavors.

I watched the rest of a mediocre Kolchak: The Night Stalker, episode four, “The Vampire.” Indeed, it is interesting to watch Kolchak’s lying and tricking people and his description of Hollywood policing in the 1970s. His narrative (as best as I remember it): “They do things differently here than in Chicago. With two suspects arrested, now the detective is looking for evidence at the crime seen.” I am soon disappointed with the ending, but it does have a twist (no spoilers). I have a comic novel on its way and a new T-shirt on new Kolchak adventures. While it is an acquired taste, I still like the old show.

I head to the shower and soon read in bed. There are More Vampire Cookingbook stories and recipes, including a lamb stew recipe I would like to try. The book is almost done; I have only a few stories left. With Kolchak, NOLA vampires, and the rain pounding outside, I ask Amazon’s Echo to play music to sleep by, as I will likely have dark dreams, and there is no reason to wake to strange noises! But I wake to prove hydration and then later at 4ish to leg and foot cramps, which are solved with hydration! F**k! I woke at 5, no longer in pain, to prove I hydrated. Morning comes too soon.

Thanks for reading.

 

 

 

Going backward, I was home late on this time change day, around 11:20, on a wet night. Air Volvo splashed its way back from Kathleen’s place across Portland, only sliding once in the rain at high speeds as the water collected in a few unexpected places on the highways. There was little local flooding, unlike last year’s ‘rivers of rain,’ the rain seemed to be absorbed and flow away. The rain could be heavy at times, but not the hours of pounding rain that heralds a weather event.

I put on Amazon Echo’s music for sleeping, took a longer warm shower, and made the bed. I left the recently washed sheets to be put on. Nothing matches somehow, but I am trying to care, nope. I seem to have a lighter-colored fitted sheet compared to the pillowcase and top sheet. I’m not sure how that could be. I took three tries to get the fitted sheet on, finally turning it to fit. Next, I read in the luxury of fresh sheets, read more of the Vampire Cookbook, passed by another recipe in the text, and put away the story/cookbook from New Orleans (NOLA). I sleep and pass the whole night in the clean, cool sheets while rain mixes with the background music from Amazon.

Moving to earlier on Saturday and my habit of trying to fit a whole weekend into a single day, I took Air Volvo in the wet to Portland in amazingly slow traffic in Beaverton. With no accidents, construction, light rain, or even school events, Beaverton remembered the week’s traffic and seemed as a group dynamic to drive slowly and pack all the vehicles into small, safe groups. The herding of cars meant it took me twenty minutes to drive a mile in Beaverton, again, even with no construction, accidents, or predators of any form. Some sudden lane changes booted the driver nothing more than a few car lengths, and often, the other lane would move with the newly provided spaces and then gain more, making the move unprofitable and undoubtedly frustrating for the lane-changing driver.

Air Volvo and I were not in a hurry, and I chatted legally on the iPhone while this was ongoing. I now drove onto the highways, which were wet and moving well, though not fast. The emergency vehicles pushing through the traffic blasting and bright in the tunnel was a new experience. There is no shoulder in the tunnel, and the sound is amplified. Yikes!

Soon, I was on the bridges and exited into quiet streets in SE. The puddles are the usual size, and there is no sign of flooding; it is a typical Pacific Northwest (PNW) gray day. I detect sadness and the resistance to do anything; I recognize this as light-loss depression, an issue here in the (PNW), and will be careful to get some full spectrum light now. With the grief and the losses from cancer and brain tumor surgery, I am more emotionally fragile than before.

Aside: My hobby lights are full-spectrum, and I feel better using them. I will likely paint some figures soon, and I feel better as I have completed something and sat under full-spectrum light for hours. It is all good for me (and I see the colors in pure light), but it is essential to notice, check, and adjust. While writing this, dear reader, I have more light turned towards me, and I feel better.

I pulled into Lucky Labrador’s parking lot, which was full, but a car pulled out, and Air Volvo was happy to take their place and not to be parked on the streets of Portland. It is doubtful that something would happen in this wet, but I don’t need another issue with Air Volvo. The check engine light is back again. F**k. Ignored!

The place is busy this Saturday in the mid-afternoon. Three sets of gamers are playing simple to insanely complex board and card games. There are various friendly meetings with beer and appetizers—a fun and happy crowd. I grab a few tables for my board game and laptop. I take off my coat and hat but keep my Nike Manchester United scarf (quite old, as Nike has not had ManU in years).

I brought Brass: Birmingham because I don’t know how to play this more popular version of the older game Brass. I can play it harder and less loved (but I like it better). Brass: Lancashire. This version is the highest-rated game on Boardgames Geek’s list. I get a pilsner (remembering Octoberfest) and a bowl of peanuts (this is not the place for peanut allergy!) and soon feel better from the beer, peanuts, and just doing something. I slowly set up Brass: Birmingham for two players. While I brought gaming poker chips, I instead used the cardboard coin money as I wanted to try everything as is.

The blahs fade as I enjoy the peanuts and beer and start to see the game forming. A call from a friend also lightens my mood. Soon, I will have the whole board, covering the table itself, ready for play. I am again tempted by depression to stop, but then play the first turn, and soon I am enjoying the game. I plan only to play the first era to learn the game, but I realize it is fun to get the mechanics to work, and I can see while players like this game, I miss the extra layers in Lancashire, but your focus is better in Birmingham, I realize. It is an excellent, though unfriendly and limited resource game as every move removes options from the game. I order my favorite there, a BLT sandwich and another beer, Golfer (light in alcohol but tastes like a pilsner), and soon pack away an unfinished two-person game. I head to Richard’s house, only ten minutes away.

(This is me crashing out in the end game. I play yellow, and my board is incomplete–you can see the other player’s boards are full; my resources on the round disk are low, and I have cured three patients).

The rain is not heavy, and the puddles are not overflowing. I park and walk into Richard’s finished basement, his inner sanctum of game-playing, and meet him and Lauren for a board game of Unconscious Mind. Kathleen will soon join us. Richard does his teaching for Kathleen, and I follow along to see if I missed anything last time. She has many questions, and soon, we are playing. The game is complex, with rules that are not always clear from the structure. Richard has to clarify some rules, watches our play, and helps as Kathleen and I get confused a few times. Lauren has a few moments, with many plays now, and with the rules, too. It is a difficult game to learn, but I like it. One mistake was made but noticed too late, one I made previously, now known as “Michael’s mistake,” but I did not make it this time.

This is resource management and worker placement, with goals and building represented in curing patients. I thought the art and flow of the game were beautiful, though complex. I believe some of our difficulties could have been solved with some component restructuring, but it still works for me. While coming in last (still my best score, not breaking 100), I enjoyed the play and the game. My last turns were not engaging as I had crashed into the end game without enough resources to finish well–my mistake of burning through resources first and building second–an easy mistake and one I often make as I learn a game.

Richard ran away with the game (his best score, over two hundred), with Lauren and Kathleen close at over 100. I did lead for a while and managed to do every part of the game this time. I am learning, but I don’t understand games as fast as Kathleen, but there is always next time.

Dear reader, Unconscious Mind is recommended; the Kickstarter version is lovely. However, be warned that this game was challenging for me to play, and the rules were manifold. The full version, available only on the secondary market, is about $220 and has high shipping costs.

Returning to the start of Saturday, I rose about 7 and started writing the blog, finding coffee from last night still in the pot. I had microwaved-second-heating liberal coffee for today. The coffee, though the caffeine works, is a bit flat. I had ham with my banana and coffee. I spent the morning writing the blog and had some excellent distractions on calls and texts. I managed to finish the blog and post it before 11. I ate the salad I made days ago, but it has languished ignored in the frig. I added pickled beets, blue cheese, and croutons with ranch dressing. I ate it while watching YouTube Battleship New Jersey and ShipHappens videos.

The sadness started to build; not chatting or texting could bring me out of the darkness. I am unsure what is wrong until I see how dark it is. I have the light issue–something new. F**k. Off to Portland to do something and to ‘woke’ up.

And that takes me full circle. Thanks for reading!