Author: alohawild

Friday started with me waking early and not being able to get back to sleep. I rose around 6 a.m., with the sun already bright and burning hot—another desert morning. While I had finished the bananas, I did have canned peaches, but I never got to them. I had a day-old croissant from a bakery in Hillsboro that rivaled other local bakeries–excellent. I did my usual items of reading the news (mostly political), updated Quicken with the latest, and started a blog for the previous day. For the Friday blog, I would be surprised to find only 600+ words for the blog instead of my 1,000+ for the last couple of days.

I wrote and was soon done, and it was about 8. I cleaned up (enjoying Henry’s shaving stuff–Thanks Steve, for getting me started down this path–recommended), dressed, and collected my summer hat, iPhone, inhaler, eyedrops, eye protection, wallet, and car keys. Having Air Volvo stop before it left the driveway to get my hat. Traffic was light to Quatama MAX station. Air Volvo arrived without issue and was parked in a nearly empty parking lot on a working day (though Friday is often a work-from-home day). Before the pandemic, the lot was nearly full on work days. It is 9ish, and the trains are running less often than I remember before the pandemic, and the one I take is never close to full. Nobody stands unless they want to.

I used the Hop app to pay for the trip. I had to open the app, and then my phone logged my usage and charged my virtual card $2.20 for the trip. I had to fill this virtual MAX card with money on my previous trip.

I return to 1946 Maisie Dobbs’s stories on my phone’s Kindle app. Time passes quickly, and soon, I am at MAX’s library stop in Portland, exiting the car. I take the park blocks to the Portland Art Museum (PAT). Much of the park blocks are parks, as you would expect. But Portland lost focus on trying to extend the parks of Park Street and allowed a few new hotels to be built on the park blocks; one park, all stonework and with a fountain and pool, is the top of a massive underground and insanely deep parking structure. I parked in the bottom a few times on a lark and can attest the still air and cold are cave-like and slightly disturbing. I called it Vampire Parking.

I walk up the slight hill to PAT, deciding not to overpay for my lunch this time at South Park as I walk by the restaurant and bar. The parks return to Park Street and are filled with elements from a time of statues and water fountains. (A hundred years ago, a wealthy man paid to install temperance-support water fountains and drinking fountains all over Portland.) Now, the fountains are sealed and damaged. All the statues I saw were only as bases; Lincoln standing and Teddy Roosevelt on horseback are gone. Maybe someday they will return.

There was a line to get into PAT, and I joined the queue. One in ten are masked, and most are older (though I resembled that remark). Most are here to see the French Impressionist show like me. I will soon show my PAT membership card, and I am supplied with an official ticket for no charge. I climb the stairs (no elevators for me now) to the second floor of the old museum (I see a dedication stone with the date 1939). It is a small show with a few examples of each great master, and some of the works are not in the usual form I am used to for the artist. The show covers the start of the impressionist movement, savaged by the neo-classical critics of the late 1800s, and ends with the end of WW2 with some works painted in the USA during the Second World War.

Most of the paintings, statues, and bronze works are borrowed, and it appears to be a traveling show. Some of the works are great, but the exclusiveness to only French artists means that other great works are missing. However, I enjoyed the French works once I got over the loss of the important Dutch and German works from the same period. In thirty minutes, again, it was not a large show, and I found myself having seen everything. I returned and looked at Monet and was startled by Renoir’s works, which looked like nothing I had seen before (more Van Gough’s last works than Renoir’s). I could have spent more time, but I enjoyed my brief tour, and my mind runs very fast when I am alone. Time slows.

I walked through the other exhibit, Future is Now, which is about sneakers–something I know much about. It reminded me of the Department of Archives for Nike (DNA) and many things I have seen at the shoe company. They had a pair of the famous self-tightening boots made for the anniversary of the movie Back to the Future. Someone had disassembled one boot and made a display of how the shoe was made. My connection to this was the stories from friends who worked for Nike about trying to buy and import motors and the requirements for importing shoes with motors and batteries–no simple task, I learned. I smiled and took a picture.

I found a few cards and a gift for Matt V’s birthday (recently passed). I resisted the showbook with pictures and stories of the impressionist works. I bought a few of these books from wonderful shows and then discovered that I had never opened the cover. I saw the scarves and jewelry and, as usual, thought of getting something for Susie; she would love that—I would think. It no longer makes me sad as I remember Susie while at the museum. We did so many together.

I am done, and it is not even time for an early lunch. Portland seems still sleepy on the bright Friday morning. I walk down Park, not sure where to go, and soon discover a few shops that I had heard of and meant to visit, but they are gone and for rent. The end of the pandemic brought an end to those payments (to churches, too) that kept everything working, and many businesses found the changes post-pandemic voided their business model. As always, change or die is how the American economy works–there is no right that your business will survive.  Portland was hit hard after the pandemic, and many businesses just raised prices and cut service, attempting to survive on out-of-date expectations. Those places are now available to rent, cheap.

I remember where I was, left Park, and found Jake’s Grill. I have not been here for a while. I get a table with a window in the bar. This means no white tablecloth and no waiter. Instead, I get Tucker, the bartender, and a copper-topped table. Tucker picked a good ale for me, and we agreed that summer is a time for oysters and not the chili blue plate special. The Oysters are $19, which is a bit steep for lunch, but this is Portland, and I am getting used to the higher prices. Like I get in other places, I expect three or four small oysters lightly breaded and fried in a pan. I get well-breaded and deep-fried, like their fish and chips, six huge local oysters. Each is cooked to perfection. The fries are cooked perfectly and called out for vinger (instead, I use ketchup), and the cup of slaw is good and not too much. I am challenged to eat this much food.

Oysters and I are not on good terms. I love them, cooked and breaded, but I find them difficult to enjoy later. I paid the bill and headed home. At the MAX station, I read for a while and realized something was wrong. I notice a gal dressed like she is going for a shoot for Vogue; she is striking, and she seems to know what is going on, so I ask her. Willing to address a lesser mortal (I asked politely), she informs me one of the trains hit something. We wait, and in thirty minutes, the trains are running again. I skipped the first overloaded train that was only going as far as Beaverton and boarded the next Blue-line train to Hillsboro.

While waiting and sitting in the AC’s MAX car, the Oysters want to make a reappearance, but I resist. I reflect that this is the proper punishment for overeating and eating something as questionable as locally harvested oysters (some of the local oysters are under a ban; they can kill you–large oysters like had are not under the ban). Someone is vocalizing all their thoughts on the MAX train with some volume. I first thought it was the driver explaining the delay, but it was one of my fellow travelers. The speaker, not violent or profane, is politely ignored by the overly polite Greater Portland travelers, as usual.

I arrive at the still empty parking lot without misadventure or re-experiencing the oysters and board Air Volvo. I arrive at the Volvo Cave, rest a while, and finish the last book of Maisie Dobbs, number 16. I cry as I will miss these stories and all the characters the author, Jacqueline Winspear, created and the reader falls in love with. The story recovers the life of the main character, Maisie or Mrs. Scott, as she is also known, and suddenly ends the book. I liked it and think it is one of Winspears best books. While I recommend the series, some books are dark and hard, and there is a water gypsy story I wish Maisie had returned to; I like Chief Inspector Gamache Mysteries better by Louise Penny. I can hardly put either down when I start, so it is only a small difference. All are recommended, but Maisie Dobbs’s books should be read in order.

Drying my tears, I made chicken noodle soup for dinner. I did laundry and the dishes and considered something to do. I decided to return to my Sherlock and Watson story, but I was tired of the house and headed to Barnes and Noble to write there. I arrived, and my sister called. I have to talk to Mom Wild; these details cannot be shared here.

I returned home after making a few changes to my story, and I am now a bit worn out by the events. I vacuumed the house in the dark. The air outside smelled of smoke, and before sunset, the sky changed from deep blue to gray-blue—forest fire smoke. I strip the bed and wash the sheets, towels, and things that missed the first wash.

I cut the donation checks for the church. A pile of money to pay for an automatic door for the front door and another pile of money to fix up the entrance and the sanctuary. Since I agreed to help, all the costs have increased. Time to get out while I am behind! I write letters, transfer money, and update Quicken with all the changes. Some of the changes are in Susie’s memory. I include her picture in the letter. I emailed copies of the letters to various involved folks; I will drop off all the checks and signed letters on Sunday, so they will go in this week’s deposit–I was the treasurer and know all of this.

I made the bed, shower, and started a new book. The Caliph’s House: A Year in Casablanca by Tahir Shah has started out well, and the pages seem to fly by. I bought the physical book at Powell’s used—trade paperback. The print is large enough, and the larger softcover book is light enough that my wrist is not complaining the following morning.

While not late, I hear Pink Floyd finishing Darkside of the Moon (I have been listening to it often), and I change to sleeping music. I soon drift off and do not wake until the sunrise. Thanks for reading.

I rose at about 8:00 and soon was writing. I had rolled over and returned to sleep as I had gone to bed late. There were no bananas; in replacement, I had some canned peaches from a local farm for breakfast and a chocolate croissant I purchased in Hillsboro the day before. I made my usual liberal coffee in my French Press. I ran my usual updates in Quicken and continue to track my accounts in this centralized process. I have replaced my US Bank card, which is directly attached to my checking account, on many accounts with my Alaska Visa Miles Visa for the miles and to insulate my checking account better. I received notes from various accounts, including eBay (!?), that my accounts were hacked. I changed the passwords and payment methods.

The aforementioned and other distractions had me writing the blog for a huge 2200+ word count until past 11. Among the distractions was a return to colon issues, which had me stay at home for the rest of the morning and early afternoon. I went from difficult movements for the last few days to unlimited ones. It was not very pleasant, and some movements had immediate needs. It has been a while since I have experienced this, and I hope not to repeat it in the near future!

I had cooked all the bacon yesterday and made another bacon and lettuce sandwich with the remaining bacon. I had no tomatoes, but I still like BL sandwiches. I toast the bread, cover both slices with mayo, add the bacon (folding it to get it to fit), and add a layer of lettuce. I cut the sandwich in half. It was delicious. This is uncured bacon.

I watched the last half of the current House of Dragons episode. The story still seems random to me, but it is also addictive. I liked the ending of this episode (no spoilers) and will get back to the show after a few more new episodes are stacked up–I don’t care about watching once a week. I will get distracted and miss. When I have a few hours, I like to watch something.

I did dishes, read, and rested a bit. Then, I put on my Apple the rest of the movie The Big Short, which is about the cause of the Great Recession (the link connects to the US Federal Reserve’s history site) and had started yesterday while cooking. I cooked some aging Brussels sprouts in a frying pan with butter and browning them. I added some water and covered it to let the steam cook the veggies. I then continued with the frying. I also baked a frozen steak and stout pie from Trader Joe’s. I finished this meal while watching the last part of The Big Short.

Feeling unsettled, I headed to Reedville Creek Park to walk. It was the evening, and the sun would soon set in less than 90 minutes. It was still above 80F (27C), but the sun was not striking. I started to walk my usual loop. There were a lot of folks on the grass practicing soccer, and some groups of families were enjoying the park, including the skateboarding cement area. I managed to walk three loops and found I was not getting much pain. I completed the fourth loop and started to walk to Air Volvo to leave, but instead, I decided to try the fifth. I was breathing hard, and my legs were freezing up as I completed number five. I completed almost 4,000 steps.  My colon issues did not reappear, and dinner stayed inside of me.

Air Volvo brought me back without issue, and soon, I was tired. After completing the dishes, I decided to shower and read in bed. I received my order of eye grease from Amazon and used that tonight. While the labels matched, the product seemed thinner than the previous tube. Hmmm. It worked.

I was asleep early. Thanks for reading.

 

One of the strangest things for me is having nothing planned and no plans in the morning. There is no need to get up early, rush, and start an early morning at Nike WHQ. No 6:30 morning Zoom meetings (morning or evening). The days no longer disappear, and the weeks do not vanish like pages in a book blown like wind. When I write this, it is Thursday morning, and it seems like the week is moving slowly, and the days are full.

With no plans and feeling tired, I stay in bed until 8ish. I rise, find the last banana, and have liberal coffee with it. I wrote a blog until 11 and felt I could have been going for another hour, but I felt the pull of the day and wanted to get outside and enjoy the bright sun. I clean up and make lunch. I have no tomatoes and know when many, including Dondrea, would think a BLT reduced to a BL is abhorrent, but I have always loved them. I cook the uncured bacon (I avoid over-processed foods after reading so much bad news about them), and soon, the house fills with the smell of cooking bacon. I litter the sink with more undone dishes, without guilt, after I finish my sandwich and place excess cooked bacon for a later meal in a ziplock bag and in the frig.

Full and more than ready to get outside, I boarded Air Volvo, which is all but on autopilot, as I headed west to Hillsboro (this was the trek to reach Susie when she was in Forest Grove for months). Surprised, Air Volvo located a convenient parking spot, and soon, I was in the bright but not overly hot sun in Hillsboro. Antiques, food, beer, and coffee are easily found in the clean and bright downtown. An excellent hobby store specializing in trains, models, and doll houses makes it perfect for my needs, and a gaming store that always has hard-to-find-new board games makes Hillsboro always expensive. On this trip, I passed on the hobby and gaming store.

First, I stopped at the old converted theater, now an antique mall, and located the Account Handbook, 1923 (ten years after income tax was reinstated in the USA) I discovered before. Previously, I could not buy it as it had no price, and I had to wait for the vendor of the stall in the antique mall to correct that. I was delayed on my return and found the book back on a shelf with a price (and my name and phone number still in the book on a piece of paper!). I took the book and wandered the place to see if something else required consideration. Nothing else needed my attention, and soon, I was in line to buy my book. A girl bought a pretty Art Deco cat china statue, and a guy bought some old-style china tea cups and a sugar bowl. You can get unmatching but lovely tea cups, teapots, and the works at any antique place for a few bucks–don’t buy more expensive mugs at IKEA; instead, impress your friends with your cheap and bohemian tea set (thinking of James Wagner’s tea cups when I write this).

I bought my Account Handbook, which looks more like a bible than technical work with a black, almost leather cover and gilded pages, for only $8. I paid cash. The antique mall is a collective, and the front desk does the paperwork for the sale, and the results, minus a small handling fee, are returned to the stall owner, who also pays a small rent and usually starts in the worst locations far in the back. They can acquire a better location as they show their ability to pay rent, have some sales, and are neat. I watch, having been visiting a few months, and much of the stock is turned over, and younger folks can find nick-nacks and some house good for cheap here.

Aside: Why a 1923 Account Handbook? I play the Call of Cthulhu role playing game, and props from the 1920s are always welcome. I also find the text of handbooks and travel guides from the time period can open your eyes to the 1920s. There are usually interesting opening texts and updates about law changes that you can only find in these books that create an insight into the times. For example, the Federal Reserve was in place in 1923 (I did not know it went back to the 20s) and described on pages 864-866. The text mentions the reserve requirement of gold of 40% created in 1921. Well, maybe not interesting to you; it may be fun to build a horror story starting with an accountant discovering something is amiss or maybe some arcane plot that makes the gold disappear in a vault, possibly wrecking the reverse bank. Yes, I get ideas from these very mundane texts. Even one of the James Bond books, a favorite I have read over and over, Goldfinger, is about issues with British gold reserves. As for the book I bought, the cover shows its age, but the pages show almost no use. Excellent.

As I said before, I had no plans, so I wandered to the next antique store (which had nothing I needed) and raided the two bakeries for breakfast baked goods (a chocolate croissant I had already consumed Thursday morning). I return the goods and book to Air Volvo, and then walk back, needing the steps, and head to the Washington County Courthouse; Hillsboro is the county seat. I am there to look at the giant redwoods planted in 1880. The huge trees and other plantings make the area restful. The trees are not as large as those older ones in California but are, by quite a distance, the tallest things in Hillsboro. Nothing prepares you for the size of these trees as, unlike the forest further south, these few are alone, and you get the feeling of standing at the feet of giants.

I always take a pinecone home with me when I visit.

I sit at a nearby bench on the courthouse grounds and read and relax. A few lawyers see me, notable for the suit and leather document bag over the shoulder, who smile when they see me, and I tell them I am just enjoying the trees. One busy guy says, “Yes, I forget how beautiful it is here.” I think it is good to be retired and read some more on my iPhone (I have the Kindle app on the iPhone). Soon, I head-on. I buy pasta sauce, pasta, and expensive ground coffee, which they roast at the shop, and board Air Volvo. Without difficulty, I reach the Volvo Cave. I defrost some spicy Italian-style sausage and fry it in a pan, heat the sauce, and boil water. After 4PM, I start to assemble dinner. I managed to eat a few bowls.

I am off to First United Methodist Church in Beaverton. I have a new Progress Flag to replace the aging Pride Flag at the church (see the link to learn the history of these flag types). The top strip of the old flag is red, meaning it is a later design (pink goes on the top if it matches the original design, but it is hard to find). Z is expecting to play games and is surprised when I get out the toolbox, flag, pole, and other tools and equipment. The flag was lost in a storm, recovered on the other side of the church, and put back, and the pole was broken by folks attempting (we believe) to do a pull-up on the wooden pole, unsuccessfully. The slightly truncated pole was reused. It was time for an upgrade.

I have new printed Progress Flags with metal eyelets for attachment; I buy them two at a time from Amazon and a new pole (also from Amazon). I have a plastic ring with a clip. The old flag was sewed pieces of high wear and flame-resistance plastic cloth (it is nearly impossible to burn) into the familiar rainbow stripes. The new flag is printed on plastic cloth that will resist burning, will not fade soon, and has the check that makes it a Progress Flag.

I use vice grips to undo the screw that holds the pole in the holder. Lucky for us, no well-meaning liberal at the church glued the pole into the holder (that had the thieves have to smash up the flag holder and required a slightly more expensive upgrade–I keep at least one flag holder at the house, too) and the old flag was removed without issue. The old flag has a pocket that goes over the pole and a single clip to hold it. The new flag uses two clips and hangs from the pole clips. The flag waves more. Z helps me disassemble the old flag and reassemble the new flag on the new pole. With a full-sized pole, the flag is now four inches further out towards the street. It is a grand-looking new flag.

(Z is wearing a Dark Side of the Moon t-shirt–she has no idea what that is; see link–that matches well for today. BTW KINK.fm always plays this for eclipses here–there is no place like home.)

Don’t worry, fellow liberals. As I said, I have more flags if someone “needs” this one.

After I put away the tools and old flag and pole, Z and I play the Euro-trash Istanbul board game, originally published in German and English. I have the newer, all-English Big Box version made from better card stock. We play just the base game, and it takes Z and me a while to get back into this one. It plays fast, and Z is quick and soon adopts my usual steps, forcing me to make less efficient moves. I make some mistakes, one grievous and costing me a turn. It is enough for me to see Z has me beat. My last move had I planned it better, could have gotten me a tie (I took the wrong extra item, so I could not trade goods for a ruby at the palace). I would still lose with money being the tiebreaker–Z had plenty left, but it would have been at least close.

With that quick shellacking–Z is relentless, I was ready to do better. We had time for two more games, and I managed to get ahead of Z in both and remain there. I was back to my usual efficient play. I like this game so much that I play by myself with me playing all three players. Istanbul is called a Euro game (or Euro-Trash). It is a race to collect rubies by completing certain goals and collecting a mix of resources to achieve those goals. You fill your cart with rubies to win. Resource collecting, worker placement, achievement for victory, no combat, and unique movement systems are the hallmarks of the Euro-trash games.  The word is no longer considered pejorative; it is just a fun description. The game US-designed game Scythe contains all the elements mentioned except it includes combat and player conflict, making it Amera-trash.

I managed to get one or two rubies ahead of Z, and Z watched as I won the game two more times. I made no mistakes, varied my plans to fit the board situation, and kept all my moves extremely efficient. I even had a chance to redeem my previous game by this time taking the correct item and using the Palace to get my winning ruby. I just know the base game well;  Z is still putting it together. Next time, we will change the base game to the “long” board or add in coffee, a fun add-on that allows for more choices and new ways to be highly efficient. I also do not know this version well.

(We are starting the second game. Z is happy she beat me in the first game)

The choir does not practice in the summer; we were done at 8ish. I returned home after wishing folks goodnight and watched more House of Dragons at the Volvo Cave. It is not great, and the storyline or plot (maybe that is too strong of a word for events that appear to be rolled from a chart of random possible choices) moves in strange stops and starts; I could not stop watching until it was late, it is addictive, and I stopped one episode that appeared to be headed for another random event (you can almost hear the dice being rolled by the writers). I went to bed as Thursday began after a shower. I leaned back to wash my hair and grabbed the bar in the shower. My eyes were closed to avoid soap in my eyes, and I kept going back. I am so happy to have those bars installed for Susie (who never used them- she never saw them except in a picture). To my fellow folks who are going gray or are already there (some colored), it is time to get those bathroom safety items installed before you are grabbing for them if you don’t have them yet.

I read for a while more and soon fell asleep. I dreamed. Mariah texted me earlier on Thursday about her camping challenge. A bear visited her tent, and she scared it away by locking and unlocking her car–excellent work. Except I dreamed I was camping with Mariah, and we were swimming in a river, and a bear was chasing us. We jumped on a log, and so did the dream-bear. I woke just as I was throwing off the covers to jump off the log, which would have landed me out of bed and onto the floor. I laughed for quite a while at my near disaster. Yes, maybe I dream a little realistically.

I am fine this morning. Thanks for reading.

I rose around 7:30, wanting to avoid losing the day and get the blog done in the morning. I started to write about 8ish after making coffee (liberal coffee made in my French Press) and having a banana. I wrote, with some interruption, until 11ish. I also activated my Alaska Air Miles Visa and started replacing my US Bank Card with my checking account. I want the miles and, more importantly, my checking account further away from daily transactions. I just want it to pay repeating bills and transfer (the type of transaction I record in Quicken) a single payment each month to the credit cards. This is what I do with AMEX. I now have the Alaska Air Miles Visa downloads working for Quicken and transferring money from my checking. I am also replacing AMEX with the Alaska Air Miles Visa to get the miles.

I got a note from Jenny that she, too, uses eye grease and is having trouble buying the OTC product. She must order it and pick it up when they get it in. I found it on Amazon, and I will see if that works. I am always surprised by how difficult it has become to obtain anything medical, even OTC, these last few years. If Elon Musk wants to impress me, forget Mars; he needs to run a pharmacy in Beaverton and fully stock it. That would be a worthy and near-impossible task.

The blog was longer than I expected, and I made lunch. I got out a frozen salmon burger from Trader Joe’s. I used the tiny non-stick pan and soon covered it with a plate and added some water to steam and cook the salmon fully. I had some nice buns from New Seasons and toasted one. While not good for me, I also baked some tater tots (also from Trader Joe’s). I cleaned up and dressed, ate my lunch with care and no choaking, and watched some videos on YouTube. ShipHappened has a new episode involving repairing a piston spring and reassembling the ship’s engine. Next, I watched a fascinating description of the history of AC on Battleship New Jersey. Apparently, sailors baked in the ship in WW2. AC came later with an all-volunteer force starting in the 1950s. Lastly, I am enjoying the Lady K Sailing channel, which is about learning how to be a sailboat owner. The channel’s producer sails on the Great Lakes, and his drive is to get as many people sailing their own boats as he can. This is not for the rich, he tells us and finds ads for boats you could buy and sail.

I ordered more XIAO hardware and will soon return to the miniature submarine/diving bell project. Some of the material from Seeed (not the band, but the China-based hardware company) will come from China. You can order it on Amazon, too, and after shipping, the hardware may be cheaper on Amazon. I have been enjoying the hot sunny days and will likely be more interested in indoor projects when the rains return.

I decided, after discovering I could not donate Susie’s dress, that the Peal District in Portland was a good place for walking. It is a slow but not terrible trip into Portland as the Pearl District is on this side of the rivers. I park in the garage under Whole Foods. I take the elevator with my parking ticket (and lose it) and head to Powell’s.

Outside Powell’s City of Books location, a man is selling his book, and I pay $20 in cash for a copy. He signs it for me. After that, I headed into the temple of printed paper knowledge, reportedly slightly haunted by the previous owner and former angry employees who can’t quite pass on. I saw no ghosts, but I did recognize that the old occult section had been revised to crime, and the occult books were away from the haunted corner near the religion section. I was looking at Greek bible books and found an excellent concordance that I decided I could pass on now (the Internet is an excellent concordance), but this one did cover the Early Church Fathers, which I seldom see referenced in my Google searches. I might be back (sold ‘as-is’ for $20).

(Notice that AI is now near Hobby stuff–I agree)

Lately, I have found myself reading more Greek New Testament writings. I gave my Hebrew stuff away as I seldom used it. I have my Greek-English books and various translations (KJ, RSV, NRSV, Tyndale, Philips, and some others). The Internet makes this work easier now, but it is hard to know if your search shows you everything you need. And some jokers could mess with a source, and few would know. I find that I agree with NRSV most, but sometimes it tries to recall the KJ, and this can make it, I think, miss. I had to translate my own Revelations once, as I thought the KJ translation was just plain wrong.

Rev 22, according to Wild: “And he, the angel, points out to me a river of living water glowing like crystal sent forth from the throne of God and Lamb.”

Leaving the haunted floor, I found a book about moving from London to live in Casablanca, and a follow-up book continued the story. I bought the first one (used) and a book on Absinthe. I resisted any new cookbooks; there was a coffee table-sized India-style book that I dared not open the cover. I will stick to my 666 Curries by the late Raghavan Iyer. I would send pictures of my attempts to his X account, and he would praise them. I miss him! His colon cancer spread as it was detected late and ended his life. As I survived colon cancer (so far), his loss hurts.

I headed to Deschutes down the street, stopping by the Armory to get next season’s flyer. Yes, they are doing Sweeney Todd, and maybe they can set it in the protests for 2020-2022 in Portland. “The Worst Pies in Portland” would get me singing along. Likely, they will follow the usual London setting.

I had a Black Butte Porter and deviled eggs. That was more beer than I am used to. I read for a while and then had a nice chat with a tourist who sells roofing supplies. We were on opposite sides politically, but we agreed about the lack of service and caring, the drive for profits over the longer-term survivability of a business, and the loss of pro-customer thinking. It was nice to chat about anything that does not include the words Biden or Trump.

I needed to walk, and the hot sun felt good. I walked the tourist areas of the Pearl and back. There was some shade here, and it was from buildings. I was surprised by how the food joints had changed and that some of the high-end but not necessarily good places still survived. I will have to be back, maybe with Z and Dondrea, and try some of the less-dressed places. I managed to hit 3,000 steps and was at Screen Door as they opened at 4:30.

I took a stool at the bar at Screen Door and told folks I was not in a hurry as they continued to open. I ordered coffee and pecan pie. The pie was excellently made with a little chocolate and homemade whipped cream with a hint of vanilla. I ate it slowly and watched. The seat I took looks into the kitchen, and all the food must pass by it (I take one seat as I then avoid dodging the food). It has a great view and is perfect with pie.

I watched the waitstaff get their items and then wait impatiently for corrections and additions missed by the cooks. The cooks are flying, and often, the manager inside has to make a few fixes. I noticed the manager point out which direction to point the plate at the customer to the waitstaff. Excellent!

I headed home and realized I did not have my ticket for Air Volvo. I asked security, and they told me to head past the gates and reach the next set where a person could help me. I followed directions in Air Volvo and was surprised that parking was free. Nice!

I returned home to the Volvo Cave without incident or much traffic, except for the short bit to get into the 26 tunnel. There, I watched two episodes of Season Two of House of Dragon. It picked up where it left off in Season One. I like the special effects and the grand vistas, but the plot is brutal and dark or, in other words, usual for the show. While I can’t recommend it, I could barely stop at two episodes! It is very addictive.

I finished the dishes that had languished in the washing machine and sink. I also folded and put away all the laundry that had accumulated for too long. The depression had faded, but it might have held on to me longer than I thought—I do not usually let laundry and dishes languish. Again, I feel for those who face depression for longer episodes.

I took out graph paper, read through my Dungeons and Dragons adventure, and finally drew a first draft map. I will use the draft to create a map I can scan and put in the finished document. It is the last thing remaining to complete the initial work. I am considering contacting some artists to draw a cover and add a few images to the text. I saw that AI-generate art has to be called out in DriveThruRPG now and appears to be a handicap for sales.

I went to bed after taking a shower. I read until late. When I finally decided to sleep, I used the last of my eye grease, squeezing out the last bits.

Thanks for reading!

 

Monday started with me rising after 7. I had slept all night and woke early as I had to get Air Volvo to a local auto repair shop within walking distance of the Volvo Cave: TV Highway Automotive. The local Volvo dealership could not provide service until September. I would need to try the locals. The shop was highly rated online (meaning very little). They had run a diagnostic and said that the Air Volvo was driveable and said to bring it on Monday.

I quickly ate a banana and had half a cup of coffee. I checked the news, which was mostly political and uninteresting. My Quicken setup downloaded all the transactions, and I saw that my Ford (F) stock was improving. Ford’s regular stock pays over a 4% dividend (as the price goes up, the dividend percentage reduces) and is appreciating (finally!) as I think Ford has finished finding new ways to screw up. However, Tesla’s ugly silver truck was reported to be out-selling Ford’s electric truck, and I also read that Michigan reduced its corporate welfare (my words) payments to Ford after Ford announced that it would reduce the output of its new battery plant. Be warned, if you are enchanted with Ford stock after my summary, it is not a risk-free investment by any measure.

I collected my walking gear and laptop, boarded Air Volvo, and took the short trip to the repair shop. I filled out a new customer form, and Alex took over Air Volvo and landed it in a bay to work on. I found a chair in the tiny lobby, took a stool that was not in use and planted my laptop on it. I used my phone as a hotspot for Internet access. I prefer to use that than acquiring some Wi-Fi, which may be a hacker’s paradise. My phone signal was weak, so I did have a slow connection, but I could make it work.

Aside: Get the hotspot technology working on your phone when you travel and use it instead of hotel or other friendly Wi-Fi connections. The risk of grabbing some fast, unknown Wi-Fi and being hacked is too great now.

The repair shop’s staff let me know that they were having trouble isolating the issue and would need to start charging me for the diagnosis work. I agreed. They went on to say that getting parts for the Volvo was hard and may take some time (another supply chain issue) and that the parts were expensive. I smiled; they did not want to charge me for high-cost repairs and parts, and I told them if you own that, pointing at Air Volvo, you pay a lot, and I agreed and understood. They laughed with me.

They next did a smoke test, looking for an air/exhaust leak. They pumped smoke into the engine. The staff told me to see this. Smoke was whispy and coming around a round cup-like item on top of Air Volvo’s engine. It was the first time I had seen under the hood–I am not a car guy. We talked about it, and a new part would be ordered for the leaking cup, new spark plugs would be installed, and an oil change would be done. This should cover the unlikely problem that a bad plug was a secondary cause (65K miles on the plugs was enough). Two hours later, the engine light was gone, and the problem was solved. The o-ring on the oil fill cap was the problem, f**k. TV Highway Automotive staff apologized for the $43 charge for the new oil fill cap, as the o-ring was a precise size and could only be acquired with a new cap. I escaped with less than a $700 charge–a light bill for Air Volvo.

I drove to Carl’s Jr and had a celebration Western Burger, but I could not finish it. Next, I headed to Reedville Creek Park and managed to put three loops in. I was stiff from sitting and also tired from all the standing yesterday when I cooked the hotdogs for church. I could not do the last loop in the heat and back pain. I tried walking a loop, reading a chapter, and restarting the walking. The heat and back pain had me stop. I would reach 4,000+ steps for the day.

I did travel to a nearby Lowe’s and walked through it to find tankless water heaters. I want to convert the bathroom, which is far from the natural gas water heater to something fast and efficient. I have to run the sinks and showers for a while to get hot water. It seems a terrible waste (the Machine and new dishwasher are not far from the existing hot water). This would mean getting 220V lines there and revising the plumbing. It is not that I have drunk the EV kool-aide (which is what my Republican readers are thinking), but I hate to waste water, and I like the showers hot. I am aware that there will never be a payback for this change. I believe that the tax credits have expired. This was a “just looking” moment on house upgrades.

Tired but enjoying having Air Volvo back and feeling that it was running slightly better, I returned to the Volvo Cave. I rested and read for a while. Depression rose.

Depression, for me, is the feeling of deep sadness that has no source and, thereby, no fix. My mind becomes deeply sad, and everything is now discolored or colorless by this deep sadness. Many people suffer from this much more often and may be facing depression every day. And while I do not welcome it, I am now blessed to understand depression and why it has devastated so many lives. My depression started after cancer and may be the result of the drugs or just the stress. Brain surgery and the trauma of healing are also likely a cause. It is transitory and soon fades. It leaves me frightened as I can’t predict it, and I am terrified it will stay.

I understand that there are certain self-made chemicals (dopamine comes to mind) that help us stay balanced and happy. People (and now possibly myself) develop a deficiency in the production of these chemicals, and depression comes. If my condition worsens and the sadness becomes part of my days, I will get help. Please have sympathy for those who face their own personal darkness.

Returning to the story, I am out of eye night grease (yes, grease) that keeps my left eye safe when I sleep (it may not close completely). I head to the nearby Walgreens, and they are not restocking their eye items, f**k. I find something like what I use and pay too much for it. The cash register guy suggests I join their club to get a better price. I do. I saved three dollars (or I would say I was being overcharged by $3 to keep my privacy–f**king evil corporations). I grab my stuff (including old-fashioned graph paper to draw a map of one of my Dungeon and Dragons adventures), and then the clerk runs out after me and hands me my phone. In our current world of corporate overreach, we humans need to look out for ourselves, and I thank him. It makes his day, I think, to help someone.

The Aloha Carts are there in the drug store parking lot, and I stop by Bombay Chaat House, and the gals are happy to see me. “Michael, we have missed you,” was their response to my order. I explained that I was trying to lose weight and that eating out was not good for that. They agree, and I learn that they, too, are fighting weight gain. We chat about walking and traveling and walking.

Soon, I had all of the veggie Indian-style food with a chai, which was so hot I could not hold the cup without a napkin. I let it cool and then enjoy it. A pair of forty-something women are loudly discussing job interviewing and layoff issues. I try to ignore them (wishing I had brought noise-canceling headphones); I want to give them their privacy. I eat, start writing, and stay for a few hours. The food, the friendly humans, and the work make the depression fade and then disappear.

I head to the Wildwood Taphouse and soon order a beer “dark like my life.” JR is there, and he suggests the best of the dark–not sweet. JR and I catch up, having not seen each other in months. This is my second visit to the taphouse since my surgery (it is hard to lose weight if one is enjoying their excellent beer products more than once a week!). I share some of my experiences and learnings from certain events that JR shared. I don’t tell other people’s stories here.

I wrote more, found my groove, and made some improvements to my Dungeons and Dragons adventure. I also changed the version number and saved a new version. I do this to protect myself from loss and to recover anything I decide later was a poor change; an undo button, if you like. I am no longer just editing and fixing mistakes. In a 19K word 30-page document that is quite technical, the mistakes are manifold and require long hours to find them all and correct them (and correct the fumbled corrections), and it took long hours to get the document this clean. I am improving and clarifying the process of running the adventure. I include boxes of text that cover how the adventure played and suggest changes for the Dungeon Master (DM, the person who runs the adventure as opposed to running a character in the adventure). I need some drawings of the complex to finish this. I might contact an artist to make a cool cover for it and maybe a few scenes from inside.

I wrote and revised it for a couple of hours. When I am running, I can handle the complexity, but it does not really add more to the player’s experience. I dropped the complexity from the text, and this will make the adventure easier to execute.

I paid my bill after having some chips and salsa and a glass of water. I am not used to heavy beers, and the water and the chips help. I headed out after chatting with JR some more. Air Volvo got me home without the engine check light reappearing. Excellent.

I read Maisie Dobbs, the final book of the series. I noticed the author reintroducing the past for those who have read the previous fifteen books and providing one more mystery for Ms. Dobbs after her retirement (now Mrs. Scott in the stories) to solve at the end of WW2. I am apprehensive while reading as the author, Jacqueline Winspear, has killed or wounded her supporting characters in previous books, and one of them has already expired in this book. Will Maisie pass like Hercule Poirot to end the series with the last words being in an explanatory letter? What will happen to her adopted daughter? It is hard to read when you know there is a sword hanging above–this is the last book.

I do like the execution and the mix of characters. Ms. Dobbs’ stories, while often telling what she is thinking, are not completely in the first person. I would carefully look at these books if I started to write a detective novel. The mix of narration and self-reflection seems perfect to me. The use of many and varied supporting characters is more true to life and prevents the creation of a superhuman-powered person like Sherlock Holmes or Poirot with his “little gray cells.” Recommended (some books more than others).

Louise Penny’s Chief Inspector Armand Gamache’s murder/crime novels, set in the present, are my current favorites.

Later, I discovered that the new eye grease at Walgreens is not the right stuff–more drops than goo. I used it anyway, and it helped some. I will visit other, hopefully restocking pharmacies for more of the correct product.

My plans for Tuesday were to donate Susie’s wedding dress to Brides for a Cause, but they no longer take older dresses. I know Susie would have loved the idea that her 1990 wedding dress and hats were headed to people who would reuse them, but alas, that will not happen on Tuesday. I will look for other solutions.

I read and soon was asleep. I dreamed of being back at Nike, and all the family folks, including Susie and Dad, were there for a BBQ at the WHQ. The food was awful, but everyone was still having a good time.

Thanks for reading.