Author: alohawild

I am writing this late on Monday. Mondays are my weekend-like days, as I have little to do on Monday morning as all the working folks are back to work. I sleep in and go slow. I did hear this morning that someone took the pride flag that hangs on the side of First United Methodist Church here in Beaverton and, from what I can tell, broke the pole. I have more. While the violence is disturbing and makes you want to react, I just supply a new flag and pole. This abused pole and flag Z and I put up as the old Pride flag was worn out (a fantastic moment that one lasted that long). Apparently, the pole needs to be replaced. I have more. I ordered more.

This is a “turn the cheek” moment and a time to remember to check your reaction. We don’t call the police or put up cameras, and I try to convince my fellow churchgoers not to glue the pole in or make it harder to take the flag. The folks who plan to do violence will just do it; it’s best to let them get it over with quickly and not frustrate them.

I tell people it was not stolen, but someone needed it. We are happy to help them; we are a church anyway. I will continue to buy flags (poles, mounts, and so on), replace the lost ones, and smile when I see our Pride Celebration flag (the rainbow flag with the check) when I visit or drive by First United Methodist Church in Beaverton next to the park and fountain across from the library—a very public space.

The flags disappear primarily on holidays. The flags seem to fade from people’s consciousness during the months after I replace them. A holiday visitor, I believe, points them out to a local, and (with the help of various booze and other substances) the angry people find the courage to rob a church and commit violence in a public place.

I am ready to replace the flag. I ordered more; I suspect we will need a few for the holiday season. I usually put a set in Air Volvo to quickly get them in place for the services. I will be out of town and give them to Dondrea or Jack to prepare. There will be a Pride Celebration flag for the holidays.

So far, the violence has not escalated. I can afford lots of flags.

Starting the blog about Sunday very late this Monday, I rose early to write the blog. I was a bit staggered because I had done the Cindy Lauper concert the night before with Joan. We had a great time, and the music was terrific. I am learning that Gayle, the opening band and singer, is well known for her ABCEFU song. Waking tired made the morning more difficult, but soon, I found coffee, a banana, and a slice of pumpkin pie (my mind claimed this was a veggie side for breakfast). The spices of the pie and the bitterness of the liberal coffee gave me hope that the world will soon focus on Justice, Compassion, and the love of Community. Maybe it is a strange or impossible dream in such a divided country with a new President who promises chaos, but I am always hopeful that a new President will find a way to bring Peace and success to us, We The People. More a prayer with fingers crossed this time, but it is still there with a brave smile and another sip of liberal coffee. It has to get better! Drink deep!

I wrote for two hours and found it easy. The investment produced the required blog that discovered what happened on Saturday. This time, I often had to go back to a previous section and add more as my non-linear memory assembled the bag of events I recall for Saturday. It was an unusually messy process for me this time. The music, I think, made a lovely hash of my memories—excellent.

I dressed in my sweater vest, grey button-down dress shirt, and pride tie and ordered a Lyft ride for more than $20 bucks to get me to the church on time (there is a song there). I was waiting for the ride but canceled it when it was five minutes late, and there were no takers. Four minutes later, Uber had me on my way for $12.

The driver, a gal (I assume a gender for the ease of writing, but I could use ‘they’ instead of ‘she/her’) who told me she was 53, wanted to know how to invest and get comfortable in her 60s like me. Somehow, I am sure you, dear reader, are not surprised we got on the topic of money. I warned her the advice was worth the price she was paying, zero dollars, and would not be anything she had not heard before. I suggested removing all the expenses that seem to creep in with modern life. For example, the extra cable bill that you don’t know what it is and to look at cash flow and try to increase it by reducing all monthly expenses. While evident, most folks have not done it, and if she could get her bills into Quicken or balance her checking account, this would get her attention on the little expenses she can avoid. I told her that modern life means big business is trying to extract money from her, and she needs to resist. Then, invest the money saved in simple things like a CD to get interest. Avoid the schemes and Wall Street, but simple things will work and are simple to understand. But, in contrast, I told her to travel and do the things she always wanted to do now. You will soon be “f**king old,” and you can’t do them. Don’t save them up, but do them now. I told her now I look back to my early fifties as my good health days! Who would imagine that! Go before you are “f**king old.” She seemed to agree, smiled, and waved when she dropped me off. I gave her, later, when I noticed I had not finished the rating and tip, a good rating and a tip.

Church folks were happy to see me, and Jack offered me a ride home. I found a seat and listened. Today, Pastor Ken was covering one of the most hopeful texts in the Hebrew text of the Bible, Micah 4:

And he shall judge between many peoples and reprove mighty nations afar off; and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nations shall not lift the sword against nation; neither shall they learn war anymore.

http://www.chabad.org translation

Our sermons have been on Micah for weeks now. By this time, I am mightily tired of it, as the first three sections are convictions and punishment. Finally, I am happy to get to the lovely parts, Micah 4.

Pastor Ken dwelled on the text, and that is not talking about geography or a map of the end times, as some Hollywood and other groups would suggest, but about the Word of God finally reaching humankind, being accepted, war ending, and folks restored to their rightful homes. The high place mentioned in the text Ken tells us is about respect given to the Word, not a physical location.

Pastor Ken points out that we are captive to our self-defined weapons and must beat our faults into something useful. He calls out gossip. He says we must put our ‘sword’ down and discard things like privilege. We, too, need to accept the instruction from Zion. The lovely Hebrew words of Micah 4 come with a lesson.

I remember a 1970s sci-fi story in which the Bionic Women, I think, faced a Doomsday machine and failed to stop it. The death machine tripped, but instead of some super-hero-like solution, the computer rolled out a large stone with the words of Micah on it. In this story, the peace-loving man who built it, who the world believed had built a world-ending nuclear weapon, only wanted to scare mankind into finding peace before it was too late. A forgotten Cold War story, but how I learned the words of Micah. I also saw the words on a brass plate on the Lebanon border in 1994. The words are important to me.

I had coffee at the church and suddenly had an eye aura, the hallmark of a massive migraine. F**k. I need to rest in the dark, possibly throw up, and sleep. Jack gets me home while I can see using half my vision. I get some water and lie down, expecting a terrible couple of hours. The water worked, and the aura faded, but the other side is now painful (over-correction and the brain surgery likely made things different).

I figure baked beans with some bacon will either stay in or leave quickly, so I make that on the stove. The beans are heated in a pan, and the bacon is fried. I am surprised by how hungry I am and that it remains settled. The headache is still there, but it is small. I start watching the Christmas movie Die Hard. The headache gets worse.

I need more rest. Deborah is free for a while, and we chat, but I freeze. I rest more, climb in warm covers, and turn up the heat. I am finally able to function. I did laundry: two loads in The Machine. Dishes are done. Dinner is a salad with me chopping veggies, a chicken thigh from yesterday, and some bacon.

Deborah booked her flight to Oregon in February. Exciting! We have no travel plans in January, but NOLA has early parades with the local krewes in mid-January. Maybe. March is booked for Deborah’s work trip to California, with an extra week for visiting. I updated my calendar for all these trips. Exciting. The headache fades.

I read at 10, showered, put on my PJs, and slept. I set an alarm for 4 and sent Deborah a ‘good morning’ for her busy Monday morning. She is happy to get the text but tells me to go back to sleep. I do. Thanks for reading!

Going backward, I was home before midnight. Cindy Lauper, somehow 71 now, sang, danced, and jammed for just under two hours with only resting for fast costume changes in what is billed as her farewell tour. She spoke often and seemed humbled and even overwhelmed by the crowd and the machinery of her concert, “I don’t do too many stadium tours.” There was a video of one costume change, in which she tried to talk to the audience while being changed and make-up being updated. And saying, “No thank you” to a plate of fruit handed to her. It was funny and also touching truth.

The Moda Center Suite 15 was our home. Joan had free tickets and parking, and we had chairs in the second row with a near-perfect distance view of the stage. It was very comfortable, but the suite ran out of water and Diet Coke. We toured the building and walked the length of the Moda Center 100-level vendor floor. There were fantastic food options with reasonable lines (some very excellent stalls were empty of customers!), but the line for the two concert T-shirt locations was wrapped around and down the walkway! We tried the club level and found limited food options, and the recommended ice cream place was closed. We surmised that many places are closed for a concert but open for game nights. The suite was wonderful.

Going further back, we arrived early in Portland with only a few mistakes. Finding the Garden Garage took a short journey, but the signs helped, and we were happy to avoid the $35 parking fee once we entered. Joan was driving, and Air Joan was soon arranged in a nearly perfect space. Next, we walked a short distance to the elevator. We were too early and later learned that had we arrived around 7, we could have walked to our suite from the garage. Instead, we took the elevator down, left the Moda Center, and spoke to a cheerful security person (again, having such a high minimum wage makes everyone helpful and smiling–think about those readers in those red states) who pointed us to Jack’s for food and drinks.

We arrived in the chaos that is Dr. Jack’s on a concert night, a location of many previous places I had eaten before a show that failed or was replaced, and soon found the bar. The mobile ordering at your table was down. Extra crazy for a busy night. Joan shared a table with a friendly couple at a four-seater; the place was already full. While Dr. Jack’s had a “Girls Just Want To Have Fun” drink, they seemed overwhelmed by the crowd. It took me twenty minutes to get through the line (just two groups ahead of me). Water for Joan, the drink of the day for me, and nachos to share. While overwhelmed, the staff was friendly and helpful, and the wait for the food was not long. My tie, Pride stripes, and red vest got many positive comments. The Lauper celebrating drink was dangerous as it had cheap vodka in it and pink but not too sugary. Delicious, but three of those would make standing difficult–you cannot taste the booze! I had one. I saw other food, and I think the menu was excellent at Dr. Jacks.

We finished just before the Moda Center opened for the show. We had been warned and had no bags. If you have a bag (including a purse), it is a thirty-minute odyssey of security. Joan had a friend who got trapped in the security line; that is how we got the timing. We arrived, with a few missteps, at Suite 15 and put our coats and chairs on the end of the row. The view was good and nearly straight onto the stage. We toured the place but decided the food at Dr. Jack’s was enough.

The show was brilliant, colorful, and ‘pretty,’ as Cindy told us she wanted it to be. I did not know Cindy Lauper’s song catalog, but she has tried many styles, and we were treated to her singing them all and even playing the guitar. I have always enjoyed her music and will have to listen to more. She started the show with a familiar song and waited for the encore to play her well-known songs. The show ended with “Girls Just Want To Have Fun,” with her opening band lead singer, Gayle, punching out the song with her.

Gayle, also the lead singer’s name, opened for the show, as I said, and her music was excellent but unknown to me. ‘F**k’ was in most of the songs, and I thought the music was good, but the words meant she was excluded from radio play. The crowd loved her ABCDEFU and sang along, knowing all the words. It was a fun song, and she had the audience yell out F**k U as a chorus. Most excellent.

Having been re-introduced to Cindy Lauper and learning new rhymes for F**K from Gayle, it was a great night. Joan drove, and Air Joan found its way to the now-empty Volvo Cave without issue. The fog had started, and the stagnant air had me coughing, but we arrived intact.

Joan waited until I turned on a light and headed home, a familiar tract. I was soon showered and in bed reading. I listened again to “Time and Tide” by Ms. Lauper before changing to sleeping background music on the Amazon Echo and slept. I dreamed of rhyming more profanities with Gayle singing along and her band blasting guitar rifts for good matching words. It’s not quite the Silver Key dreams of Lovecraft, but it’s still strangely bizarre.

Returning to the start of Saturday, I rose again and found that Air Volvo was not there–I kept forgetting. I did hear from the mothership with a video of them showing me the Volvo engine (I have seen it maybe five times) and explaining I needed to authorize another $500 to take apart the cowl; they pointed at it so I would know that it was in the video while explaining they needed to reach something called a VDD (so many jokes). Impressed that I had already paid $750 for a video (I was hoping for a repair or an estimate for that money), and I agreed by signing something at their website connected to the video. I expect to be impressed with more wonders of the modern Volvo repair process. Maybe they will have Gayle make me a song about car repairs (thinking of shouting WTF, as a perfect chorus).

Blessed with me financing multi-media Volvo repairs, the rest of my day was quiet. I spent much of my time writing the morning blog, having liberal coffee, and forgetting to do laundry. I had veggies for breakfast. The night before, I made a pumpkin pie using Mom Wild’s recipe (found on older Eagle Condensed Milk cans) (I forgot to mention it in the previous blog) and had a slice with a banana. It seemed perfect.

Aside: This is all can-based pie, but the secret is the condensed milk as it cooks to caramel. I find milk and evaporated milk make a more custard pie. This version is silky and not overly sweet. To be direct, for those who scoff (I know who you are), I will cook some pumpkin someday and try it as a replacement, but I am not doing the custard thing.

Lunch consisted of another pie-like item, a quiche I made a few days ago, which was excellent. I heated it three times (once for three minutes, then again ten minutes later for a minute, and again later when I finally remembered it), and that made it hot through. I often heat something, let it sit until almost room temperature, and heat it again. With the cold gone, the second heating makes it even in temperature and excellent. This is the best way for Italian items and think items.

I chatted with Deborah for a while, and we talked about many of the things we plan to do when I am in Michigan and when she makes her first visit to the Volvo Cave (assuming I will not buy a six-pack of cheap muscle cars for less than the cost of one Volvo replacement and have not renamed the house to Chevy/Ford Cave). After that, I dressed and started the day. I read, did dishes, paid bills, and did all the mundane tasks that accumulated in life.

I was happy to see my 401K investments rise to make up for losses in October. I update the valuation only once a month and try to ignore it most of the month. I will not try to time the market. “No, I won’t,” I think. It is a mantra as a retired person like me is a perfect victim of various investment schemes. No day trading (or drinking). No chasing ephemeral stocks that are flying up (only to tank). Again, Gayle could sing a song about that for us older fans, rhyming “No F**king Way!”

Aside: F**k could cause various scanners to react poorly to my content, meaning it remains asterisked. I do not want to be banned by various purity AI systems now attached to multiple corporate media. From what I have read, it is without recourse. Best to, quoting some from long ago, stoop to conquer.

I dressed in my new black shoes and white dress shirt and put out my gold-colored pocket watch and vest later. After some more Christmas shopping online, time approached, and I dressed, and soon, Air Joan arrived.

And that takes this story without a profane chorus full circle. Thanks for reading, and I hope you, dear reader, are inspired to look for Gayle and Cindy Lauper and think about all the rhymes.

 

 

 

 

Friday continues for me as a pedestrian. Air Volvo is at the mothership with the parking brake failure, shutting down the Volvo for safety reasons. Thus, I will not visit IKEA, the various tree-lighting celebrations, or the Chinese Garden today. I will stay home, and that is good as I am not feeling quite right anyway.

It was cold on Friday, with a stagnant air warning, but the air quality was good (no small particulates).  I was coughing, and my nose ran, meaning the poor air quality (humid with extra CO2) impacted me.  I stay inside and let the air filter help as much as possible.

The blog was short as Thanksgiving filled the day before. As usual, I spent time downloading and updating all the transactions from my bank accounts, reading all my emails and news updates, and making liberal coffee. The coffee, Equal Exchange brand, reminded me of Justice, Compassion, and love for Community. Hope is always in the cup when one focuses on these three things. I had reheated quiche for breakfast that I made the day before. It was good reheated.

I spent hours ordering fruit cakes from the monks at Gethesemani Farms in Kentucky. The prices are higher, and shipping is very high—I once paid $27 for shipping for one gift! I got a few address checks by email and messenger and made the updates on my list to ensure the bounty would arrive soon. I had one broken cart and one that was addressed to me (I sent one to myself for high shipping costs–Kentucky is not near Oregon), but with one exception: the cakes and fudge are outbound. Yes, ‘Release the Fruit Cakes!’ followed by evil laughter was running through my mind.

Deborah and Barb are not fruit cake folks (and likely others are too polite to tell me), so I will arrange other mailings for them. Some younger folks (who would find a fruit cake a strange and likely unloved mystery) would get cash instead, but I worry about that as it is now weird to hold US currency and is not taken in all places (even in the USA). Until I get a better option, Dead Presidents and Dead Postmasters portraits (college and post-college get Franklins) get sent. I will also send gifts to the Heffer Project to honor various folks who need nothing more and resist fruit cakes. More to come.

I kept thinking I should go somewhere, only to remember that Air Volvo was in the shop, so I chatted on the phone and did laundry instead. I made dinner of baked chicken with a microwaved (and then baked) potato with sour cream and some green beans I managed to overcook. I also overcooked the chicken. I was watching the long Director’s Cut of the movie Napoleon and let some things drift. The chicken was well done, 175F, and not great, but I accepted it as the movie was good, and I was enjoying the film on my Apple computer for free on my Apple+ account instead of paying attention to the cooking.

I used a curry spice for chicken I brought back from Morocco, which was good on the overcooked chicken thighs. I have always been worried about undercooked chicken and successfully avoided that mistake today!

Returning to the story, I decided to read. I changed books. While Graham Greene’s The Penguin Book of Victorian Villainies was fascinating, I think shorter works would be better. I found this book in The Curious Books store in East Lansing and thought it would be intriguing. Three hundred pages for one complete story is too much for me, with each chapter obviously being a section of a series, and the writer paid to keep going. The story moves, as would be expected, at a glacial pace. However, the language and word usage are unfamiliar. It would be interesting to try to use the words and sentence structure. More to come. I will likely return to the serial.

I nodded off and soon slept for hours. It was a nightmare. Something was chasing me in the house. I heard it tell its master it would search the bedroom for me. In my dream, I jumped out of bed and quietly walked down the hall, trying to hide in the kitchen, which seemed safe to me, following the illogic of dreams. It jumped out of the bathroom, and it got me. The arms grabbed my legs. I shouted for help.

I woke, and my leg was in a cramp where it had grabbed me. The cramp soon passed. I decided on some lighter to read.

The new book is a translation from the Greek of a fictional story about three girls growing up in pre-WW2 Greece, Three Summers. The English is modern, and the story, told in the first person, is idyllic. It is a good break from murder mysteries and Victorian writing. I read about ten pages before sleep started to overtake me.

I had to use some Benadryl cream as the lousy air had me breaking out in hives. I was soon comfortable again. Soon, I was falling asleep, and I thought I had left the music to sleep by running on the Amazon Echo device, but when I woke up this morning, it had stopped. I slept into a dreamless sleep, and nothing chased me.

Thanks for reading.

 

 

Air Volvo is at the mothership, and the machine will not likely begin to spend my money until Monday. Like many modes of transportation, you make them work by pouring money into them. The parking brake failed on my previous Volvo without so much drama; this looks expensive. This change meant that Thanksgiving was my first full day as a pedestrian. I was trying to enjoy it. Lyft was my access to travel.

Going backward, I brought two plates of food from Scott and Michelle’s Thanksgiving Party in disposable containers and contacted Corwin. Corwin had told me he would not join the feast this holiday; he had to repair his truck. Instead, his roommate took him to a feast with his family, but Corwin still appreciated the extra food and plans to enjoy the gift of Thanksgiving meals over the next few days. Corwin is broke; he can’t get paid as a food delivery person when his truck is broken, and is still recovering from an ER visit. Corwin is now living a healthier life after nearly coding.

Corwin and I shook hands and wished each other happy holidays as the season started the rush to Christmas and New Year’s.

Next, I showered and dressed for bed. I read for a while and soon, after midnight, turned off the light. I rose, looked at the list of fruit cakes I sent out last year, and asked for address updates on Facebook. I then went to bed and slipped into a slightly boozy, dreamless sleep. I did not wake up until late.

Going back, I rode a Lyft ride to Scott’s house on the other side of the smallish Bull and Cooper’s Mountains. I was early, but the wine was open, and a booze-enhanced fruit mix was ready. Scott told me that food and booze would be plenty, and thus, I brought flowers. It was a pleasant group that grew and grew, and the wine flowed. At one point, the room spun for me after a few glasses of wine, but that soon passed. I did not know if that was breathing or my balance issue, but it passed and did not reoccur. I remembered not to rise too fast and to walk slower. I did have another glass of wine and two heavy beers, but I could still function later. Another Scott was running late, but once he arrived, he carried excellent beers into the kitchen to share. Dinner was served, and a vast amount of food and items were in piles. There were two vegetarians in the crowd, but there was plenty for them, too.

(At Scott’s and Michelle’s house with family and friends)

We had the crackers, soon wore silly paper hats, and read terrible jokes. Everyone wrote what they were thankful for on paper and put that in a vase. These were drawn and read, and people guessed who wrote them. Once that was done, the author told a joke. It was fun and lovely.

I had trouble getting my Lyft as my app was broken, and it seemed like I never finished the last trip in the app. Later, I learned that the driver had been paid and had gotten a tip. Scott restarted it on my phone, and I ordered a ride home. It was over $30 this time, but it was Thanksgiving, and the driver should get something special for tonight; I thought it fair. Ten minutes later, I said my goodbyes and thanks and boarded the Lyft ride. Though the app seemed to work, no tip was collected that night. I added it on Friday morning!

The morning started with me waking to texts on my phone and enjoying my new East/West time zone. Deborah and I spoke briefly before she had to prepare veggie and fruit platters for a Michigan-based feast. We were joking about Mr. Burns, and I renamed my laptop Smithers, which got Deborah laughing.

Aside: I often do not explain allusions that can be easily Googled.

Next, I focused on the blog and finished it early. I read and rested. I read some religious items online as I am teaching Revelations next year. I watched more YouTube videos, and soon, it was time to leave. The Lyft arrived, and I boarded. Soon, I was whisked away to Scott’s place.

That brings me full circle in this story. Chatting with folks of different age groups was fun during Thanksgiving–I was in full social butterfly mode–but I realized I was on one side of the spectrum now and treated like one of the old guys by the young folks. But I was able to keep up with both extremes of age groups as I traveled, could cook, and understood complex beers and wines enough to be, at least, included in the discussion. Loki, the only dog present, was also happy until he was ignored. He then licked or hopped up to get more pets and attention. Unlike the dog, I was content to listen mostly and only interject here and there.

It was a great evening, Thanks Scott and Michelle for inviting me!

The morning started with me rising early, which has become my new habit since I began seeing Deborah, who resides in Michigan. Mom Wild also called at 8ish in a panic. A medical bill or hackers, we are unsure at the moment, called and demanded payment (likely a con). Instead of hanging up and ignoring it, she panicked and called me, demanding I move back to Michigan and help. Not happening. Linda is checking in on it.

With some drama and a pleasant early call from Deborah, I returned to writing and enjoyed liberal coffee. The coffee was leftover from yesterday and was easily microwaved. More liberal coffee was still inbound from the Portland Equal Exchange warehouse. I skipped breakfast as I had a dentist appointment that morning.

I did my usual reading of emails—lots—and then updated my Quicken. I had many transactions from my unplanned trip to Michigan, hopefully, the last ones and the payments for the next trip. Delta Airlines arranged all the hotels and flights on the next trip (19 Dec to 5 Jan), and I paid for them. I transferred enough money, logging on to US Bank, to cover the mortgage and the Visa Bill (I don’t carry a balance). I use the Visa as it gets me miles instead of the bank card (it gives access to my checking!) and the American Express (no miles).

I write, and around 10, I finish a short blog. I dress quickly, shave, and all that. I board Air Volvo. I notice that every idiot light is on. The parking brake has failed. F**k. Air Volvo locks down for safety and informs me that I must perform a ritual to unlock the gear shift. F**k. Even turning off the vehicle requires holding the nob until it finally shuts down.

The dentist was ready for me, and teeth 5 and 12 were repaired. The old fillings had failed, and it was time to upgrade. I panic easily now since the ER trip for breathing was caused by the chemo, meaning I had to count backward and also imagine events happening that would interest me so that I would not panic. Beaches and drinks with umbrellas were included in those thoughts. It was not easy, but I managed. The painkiller worked well and faster than I remember. The modern dentist uses light-activated and tooth-colored material instead of mercury-silver, which he smooths and finishes with some drilling. I was done in less than forty-five minutes, and my part of the bill was $105.

I returned to Air Volvo, which still had six lights on (I usually find it costs $1,000 per light in repairs–I was not happy). I searched the paper manual and then went to the one built into the display, searched it, and found the override process for the shifter. Take out the rubber mat in the drawer next to the shifter. There is a hole. Use a screwdriver and push the button in the hole. (I always carry a small toolbox in the cargo hold of Air Volvo for these cases and retrieve the screwdriver). It unlocked! I put the screwdriver back and reassembled the drawer.

The car would not move. The disabled brake was still locked. I read the instructions for unlocking the brake. Did not work on my first try. The vehicle would slam when I tried to move it, but it was still locked. I calmly turned off the car (having to hold the button like an old PC), put on my safety belt, and started the car (this is in the directions). The brake then unlocked. F**k, it is connected to the safety belt!

Air Volvo with most of the lights on the dash, I drove the car to the mothership. The warnings included the tires, brakes, traction control, and lane assist warning, but not the collusion warning (I checked the tires, too—all good). I left the car running and explained the issues to the Volvo service manager. I could tell they had no idea and certainly did not understand why I left it running (it will relock the shifter and parking brake when turned off). I was informed that it was a busy season, and with tomorrow being Thanksgiving, it is unlikely that they would get to diagnose the issues until Monday. Still, an hour of diagnosis was $250; they suspect it would be $750 for that alone. I did not blink, but depending on the repair cost (I am guessing $6,000-$9,000), their sales folks may call me (they will anyway). Deborah reminded me I am a Costco member, so I should get the Costco price. I told them to put that in the notes. I called Deborah to let her know I was OK after the dentist and got the Air Volvo working (sort of).

I took a Lyft home, paying for it myself, as the service guy said I needed to use the app, and the connection did not work (until later). My driver agreed that these expensive cars are expensive to fix and that his son’s experience with Audis was the same. He also told me he moved to Portland two years ago and still owned a house in Louisiana with more than 2,000 square feet worth $100K. He was shocked to learn the same house is over a million in Oregon. Yes, housing is expensive on the West Coast.

I spent the afternoon doing laundry and making a quiche with what I had in the frig. I cooked onion, added smoked pork and venison sausage, sliced some potatoes (Costco precooked and frozen ready-to-heat small potatoes), and mozzarella cheese. I added some green beans for color. I beat four eggs and poured them on. All this is a frozen pie crust. I baked it after adding sliced tomatoes on top for more color for about 35 minutes.

I had two pieces. It was lovely and delicious. I also had a candy bar, Equal Exchange.

While eating, I watched more YouTube videos from the USS Kidd and Battleship New Jersey museum staff. I learned that the USS Kidd is a revised Fletcher-class WW2 destroyer being repaired and restored to its 1945 look. The battleship is in a Cold War configuration of 1990 or thereabouts. USS Texas, another battleship (but over 100 years old), is set to its 1946 look and received spares from modern battleships when they were upgraded in the Cold War. USS Texas is still being repaired and homeless; hopefully, a city in Texas will soon volunteer to be a home for it. USS Texas’s staff knows how to clean and repair some WW2 guns, so some of the USS Kidd guns are now with USS Texas to be refreshed and sent back. New Jersey is back from repair and open again for tours. USS Kidd is still in drydock being repaired.

I did three loads of laundry and dishes and generally rested between loads. I am still tired and enjoy reading. Between the dentist and Air Volvo, I was ready to pull up the covers and hide!

I watched an old spy movie, Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy, and enjoyed it. It is a slow Cold War British vs. Soviet story with the strange George Smiley and Control characters that define spymaster in the old stories. If you can do slow stories, it was excellent. I saw it years ago in the theater, but it was good for a few bucks from Apple.

I skipped dinner and enjoyed some mint tea (Morroco-style with caffeine) and potato chips.

I showered, read in bed, and then nodded off. I turned off the light and slept, dreaming of Cold War spies and wondering who could be the Soviet Mole. I woke early, now living in my new East and West time zone.

Thanks for reading!