Blog

I was not focused yesterday and just passed the day without getting much done. I feel no guilt. I am retired, and the mopping can wait another day; there is no plan and no guilt. I remembered putting the mail on hold (a letter to the mail carriers) and starting to clean and prepare for my red-eye trip to New Orleans (NOLA). I like to come home to a clean house. Corwin will mist the orchids and check on the house a few times.

I rose after 8, with the overcast days starting and rain over the night not waking me early. There was no more sun coming in through the windows in the greater Portland Area. I had no plans for Tuesday and decided to spend the day inside, focusing on getting prepared to travel and clean the house. I might do some AI work, but that was secondary and never started.

(The paper blob is consuming my work space).

I thought it reasonable to use the bacon I cooked before and in the frig and made poached eggs and toast to go with the bacon that was zapped in the microwave for two thirty-second hits. I put salt and vinegar in the water I heated. While it looked like egg drop soup, I got the eggs out with running intact yokes. After cooking, I returned to the blog and spent the morning writing, texting, reading emails, and news (some political, with Harris and Trump reportedly in a dead heat in the purple states). I was relieved that voting had started in Georgia and that there had been no violence. Judges are ruling against various last-minute and non-sensical voting rule changes there. For my health, I have turned away from reading war news and will focus on cooking more.

I sipped my liberal coffee, ate a delicious breakfast, did the dishes (the house elves failed again), and did more laundry. The happiness in my cup helped me finish the blog, and no darkness rose today to poison my happiness. There is peace in my house, and it grows with vacuuming! Corwin and others have mentioned how calm and happy my home feels. It is the inner sanctum.

I finished the blog late. A call, more texting, and a lack of a deadline had me reach twelve straight up on the clock. No guilt and no problem.

I dressed and regretted it. I should vacuum and clean in my pajamas, as the dust and stuff get on my clothing. I have more laundry for Wednesday! The house is vacuumed, and toilet bowls are refreshed with blue stuff and brushing. I will sweep the tiles and mop them on Wednesday.

(When I started, the vacuum came apart, but it went back together. Hmmm)

Subterranean Press sent me a small tome, signed by the author and part of a small run. In The Shadow of the Ship, by Aliette de Bodard, a favorite author, is a short and darker story from her Xuya Universe. This setting is a space opera with a Vietnamese empire running the known universe with people connected to bots and no AI; instead, human bodies are changed into long-lasting spaceships that travel the stars. I could barely put it down. House cleaning happened only between chapters.

Deborah and I, fans of Only Murders in the Building on Hulu, discovered there is no party-watching option on Hulu like there is for Disney+. However, we managed a watching party with a phone and telling each other when to start and stop. Low tech. We were off for about ten seconds at first as Deborah would laugh after me, but we managed to sync on the last part. We are on episode 8, and the show was interesting, and the jokes were excellent; you will find no spoilers here.

Ringing off, I got back to more housework, but the book also kept calling me back. I managed to put the laundry away, start the packing, clean the large bathroom (except for the mopping), and sweep the tiles. My flight is at midnight, so I have all of Wednesday to clean. I hand-washed my dishes as I would not leave dirty dishes for a week. I watered the orchids, and they promptly fell out of their mixture. F**k, orchid planting mixture all over my floors, “Clean up in aisle one!” I reburied the flowers and noticed that the Vandas looked unhappy, but the Oncidium was happy and stayed in its pot (and the roots are growing, yay!). The Dendrobium seems unhappy, but they often do. We will see.

Lunch was Trader Joe’s Chicken Tikka with TJ’s frozen naan, which I reheated in the oven. Dinner was frozen egg fried rice with chicken from TJ’s. I stayed in as I planned for the day. But, once it was dark, I decided that a beer and a book were a good finish for Tuesday. I headed to Wildwood Taphouse, enjoyed a single 12oz Black Butte Porter (XXXVI) with pretzels, and read my new book. I usually get this in Portland at Deschutes Brewery Public House with some smoked salmon pâté and crackers, which combined enhance the flavors. Instead, the book, surprisingly dark with some interesting kissing scenes that contrasted nicely with the horror, mixed well with the black-brown colored beer.

With a high alcohol content, I demurred when a second beer was offered. Wildwood Taphouse closes at 10 on Tuesday, and today, I left before closing time and the last call. Air Volvo, still with an Engine Check light, returned me to The Volvo cave without incident. Next, I cleaned the bathrooms (as I mentioned before) and packed some more.

I read more and soon showered and changed into my pajamas. I finished the book at about 11:30 and turned off the light. I dreamed, comfortable but now forgotten images, and woke with leg and foot cramps. I rose, got some water (recommended by Deborah), and soon, the problem abated. I returned to sleep and dream more likely about space, horror, and kisses.

Thanks for reading.

 

 

I rose before 8 and found the coffee. The house elves are slipping as the dishes remain in the sink for over a day. I ignore the dishes and the increasing laundry demands and spend most of the day screwing off. But before I made a point of getting nothing done, I wrote and published the blog. This took most of the morning, and I was not dressed until the afternoon. I was not focused, but I enjoyed writing about a busy Sunday.

I feel sad today, and I do have some real issues with the depression that overtook me a few times, but I managed to refocus on gaming stuff. I was surprised by this, and it was overwhelming until I broke through it. I get into this spiral and do not want this new life without Susie. I think I would never pick this life and my retirement. I do not want to go on. This only happens when I am alone and not exercising. The solution is to move, find people, and do something interesting. Thus, the drive into Portland can be poisoned with depression, but once I get out of Air Volvo and do something, I am better. It seldom happens at the house as I have things to do and I can walk.

Dear readers, I include this not as a request for help (no thank you) but as a recording part of my experiences in grief, illness, and life. It is part of the truth.

Returning to the narrative, I continue to ignore the Engine Check light on Air Volvo and head to Portland early; I have a game at Richard’s at 7 and a chance to retrieve my wool hat I left there. I am off to Guardian Games in Portland (I drove by the local one in Aloha). It was 3ish, and the traffic was building, even for a Monday. I managed to cross Beaverton before the post-school lock-up had not settled in.

Highways 217 and 26, while busy, are not locked into a crawl, and I arrive in Portland SE to wait more than ten minutes for a train. I read the names on the cargo and saw Swire and their logo. I once owned their stock and its rival in Hong Kong; it inspired the Nobel House, a favorite novel of mine during the Cold War. I did make some money on the stock, but I sold it as there were other uses needed for the money. But seeing ‘Swire’ going by had me daydreaming of the lost fictional Hong Kong of the 1970s.

Swire (SWRAY) is available as an ADR via OTC in the USA with a 3.4% dividend. I am tempted to get some, but often, ADRs have surprises that make them a poor and risky investment. Also, this stock would be connected to exchange rates, is nominally owned by the Chinese government, and comes with insanely high event risk. Step lightly into this investment with eyes wide open!

I found nothing to buy at Guardian, with its vast walls of board games, Warhammer sets, and role-playing games. However, I was tempted by one award-winning one-book role-playing game. I looked at a castle-like structure for Warhammer and the Sanctum from Doctor Strange movies, both priced too high to add to things for me to do (I have too many now). Safe from guilt, I headed to get a beer and an early dinner across SE Portland in Air Volvo. It is Monday and not the weekend, which are my usual days to haunt gaming and food locations. Lucky Labrador is not open yet. I drove up Hawthorn and spotted Lardo, which I had not tried before. I found a legal parking spot large enough for an Air Volvo, crossed the street, and, with my laptop, entered this new place.

It is diner-like, and the menu, like many hipster-supporting places, is written on a board and requires decoding. I am overwhelmed with the choices broken down into each sandwich’s content, with some sold out (?!). I ask the guy at the cash register (if a white screen and a screen for him could be described as a ‘cash register’) what he likes. He points at a quarter-sized 3-D pig model on the counter, painted with blackboard paint and covered with writing. The alternative menu describes another option, the Cookwich, which he recommends, and I selected it with a pilsner, German-style, which involved reading yet another board, decoding, and selecting.

The metal music is screaming, and I don’t care; I only hear it as background noise, a gift from my revised hearing. I can more easily ignore noise now. I enjoy a fantastic I-don’t-care-if-it-is-hipster-food pork and veggie sandwich with spicy slaw and a good use for kale chopped into tiny bits (kale is a decoration, not food to me). I read more code while drinking my beer and making my Cookwich disappear as it was too good not to consume immediately. Coding: I try to merge data between the Time Series and the master data, and that goes poorly, so I will have to rethink that.

The music and the coding failure put me off, and I decided the music was enough. I do notice I breathe better outside without all the loud metal music. This area had a fire some years ago, and there is a broken cement pad where the edgy stores once helped keep Portland weird. I read that the land is still unsold and is languishing in a higher interest rate world (I will not comment on what I think about raising interest rates to ‘help’ people–at best, a very blunt tool). But the Louge Lizard Vintage furniture place has returned only a few blocks away. Dropping off the laptop in Air Volvo’s cargo hold, I walk the few blocks and tour the 1970s revised lamps and aging furniture.

I miss Dad and Wild’s Furniture and Appliances, Inc., “We Beat City Prices.” I make three loops. The shades are not from the 1970s but fit the Atomic Age (50s to early 60s). The furniture is newer than the look, retro stuff (because the real things from the 70s were a lot uglier than this), but I see some ‘Spanish’ wall covering and 1970s lamps (with too decorative shades). I love it here. I might have to buy one of these lamps.

I start a conversation with the gray-haired owner, who is about my age, and we talk about the dreaded owl lamp. He says, “Oooh, those are hard to find.” His body language suggests I might not be able to afford one if he can get one. I feel like I asked him for cocaine, and he is testing to see if I really want it and am not a cop. I thank him, and we are both happy; he knows I will be back for a lamp, some in my price range, not an owl one.

I drive a mile, spot the McMenamins Barley Mill Pub, and realize I have never been there. I park without difficulty and soon am at the bar with a refreshing Ruby beer and music in the background that is vintage but familiar. I bring my passport for McMenamins and get a stamp. I have forgotten about my passport and will start revisiting McMenamins. You get rewards for getting groups of stamps and are invited to special events if you complete the passport. A new thing to do! I still have Susie’s and Corwin’s passports. I will retire Susie’s.

Refreshed and taking some photos, I head to Richard’s place. I meet Chris there as Richard pulls in. He was working today (he is only partially retired, as a few hours a week pay his bills). We set up the board game Unconcious Mind, a newly delivered Kickstarter game. Richard has all the upgrades (Chris also has a copy—I will enjoy playing Richard’s), and it is a lovely game, but I think a few parts are too small, and the text is tiny. But the iconography is easy to understand, and soon, I will be playing well enough for a first-time player. This is a unique resource and engine-building game with the theme of working with Freud to heal patients. For a new game, the game showed an unusual amount of polish and well-thought-out rules and play. I liked it and would consider owning a copy, but for the moment, I will play Richard’s copy.

I lost big, eighty points below Chris and Richard, but I enjoyed the game. Richard lost to Chris by one point! The play was interesting, and I did feel like I was chasing them for some of the game. I still had to find the rhythm of the play, and the game requires you to build up your own board, treat patients, and publish. I did not publish, and that cost me. I did not build my board with cool supers powers like Chris and Richard. They are on their third or so play, and we are all still learning. Again, I liked Unconcious Mind, and while the upgrades are excellent, the base game will sell for about $70 and will be available around February with an add-on (we did not play it) also available. I found the resale of the whole Kickstarter version for over $300 (with shipping), and I will unlikely follow that path (also, the price comes down in a few months as FOMO wears off).

With the joy of learning a new, excellent game in my mind and mistakes and options for next time running through my mind, Air Volvo reached the Volvo Cave without incident and with little memory of the trip. It was nearing midnight, and I was soon showered, in PJs, and trying to sleep. But the coffee Richard made sleep elusive for thirty minutes, but then I just faded into sleep without realizing it and did not wake until after 6 on Tuesday.

Thanks for reading.

I rose later on Sunday, with my alarm waking me at 6:30 and my realization that church service had moved to 11 and I could roll over, but I did rise before 7 and, with the orchids reveling in the cold 66F (19C) morning, got my robe and started writing the blog. I also found the coffee and ended another bag of Equal Exchange French Roast by dumping it in the French Press. This produced an extra dark mix and was full of liberal. I looked in the French press, and equity and fairness were floating on the surface. Further down, there is a hint of justice, compassion, and goodness for the community. There was no hint in my brew of demanding things or acquisitions, and it certainly was not about what I feared or wanted changes to improve my finances. There was no inward focus in this cup of joe. I was having a cup of strong coffee flavored with hope for all of us, “We the People.”

I wrote the blog in the early morning with coffee and a small bowl of cold baked beans left over from yesterday’s lunch. I managed to recall most of Saturday and the game I played. I created a narrative only once or twice, discovering something I missed. I find that my mind, knowing that today was the anniversary of Susie’s death, distracts me with something else to think about. I am unusually interested in what I want to wear, and thoughts about AI fill my mind, not sad thoughts about missing Susie or memories of her passing. I know it is me trying to protect myself and let my mind drift.

I finished the blog and dressed for church, selecting the green sweater vest, pride tie, and Cole Hann dress shoes with dark socks. The shirt is grey with a button-down collar from L.L. Bean. I find their shirts wear well, and the permanent press shirts, if removed from the dryer while warm, will require no ironing and look perfect every time. My cotton blend pants are also from L.L. Bean and also are permanent press. My belt is on the last hole, and my pants are starting to fit less and less; I have no complaints about that.

I remembered loading the pumpkin muffins I made the night before in Air Volvo, and the flowers I bought yesterday still looked good in the cargo hold. The passage to Beaverton Old Town is without issue, and there is no traffic on Sunday mornings. I am too early, and the previous worship service is still in the breaking down process, and folks are chatting. I stay out of the way and sit until the Emmaus church is finished and our folks for First United Methodist, Beaverton, begin their set-up. I delivered the muffins to the kitchen and returned for the service.

I had coffee and watched Jack refill the oil in the candles (these are oil lamps in the shape of candle sticks), and I took the lighter and lit them. As the senior usher, I knew the ritual and walked calmly down the center with the lighter in front of me, stepping up, pausing, and lighting the right and left with a respectful pause. I then went and turned on the cross. I received comments about getting a gold star, and that next time, I should wear a robe from my less-than-helpful and smirking Methodists. These comments remembered of all the acolytes that came before, a happy memory.

I sat through the rest of the service. The hymns were easy again, and I found my voice to sing them. Only once did I get the words wrong, and with the words displayed, I did not get on the wrong verse or song today. I am not someone you should follow when singing!

Pastor Ken picked the letter from Paul, the second one to Corinthians, chapter four. This is Paul at his usual unfriendly and directness, and Andrew, our liturgist today, managed to make it sound almost friendly, using his lawyer superpowers. Ken focused on Paul’s message about the words and teaching of Jesus to be a treasure inside us, the plain jars of this world, and not the stars-powered media-supported influencers that get the attention now and even in cosmopolitan Corinth of two thousand years ago. We will always disappoint as we are not the focus, nor should we try to be. We follow Jesus; we don’t take Jesus with us like Jesus was some expensive shoes worn by a social media influencer, but we go where Jesus goes.

Later, I spoke to Michael and asked him what he thought of the use of words of jars and veiled in the text of 2 Corinthian. We know that old scripture was buried in caves as it was still holy even when worn and needing to be retired (this is why we have the Dead Sea scrolls and other text). We also know that amphoras–cheap clay jars set in ships without a base–were used to ship goods in ancient times, the containers or milk carts of ancient days. Plain container filled with delicious goods and wines, with Corinth being a significant trading post, was this Paul’s idea? I also asked Michael to think about what the usage of veiled is connected to. Some fun in Greek and research, Michael’s fav.

The potluck included a main dish: BBQ beef on buns from the church. I had a few samples of the other items and the BBQ beef. I wanted just enough to cut my hunger as dinner promised to be heavy tonight. I left early before the cake was served.

I boarded Air Volvo, drove to Johnson’s home, and dropped off flowers. Cory, a good friend for years and a brilliant Dungeons and Dragons player, passed away a few days before Susie last year. I learned they had another loss this week, and they were happy to see me and enjoyed the flowers.

I headed to Barnes and Noble to purchase my usual magazines. I spent most of the afternoon just relaxing, chatting, and reading. With a copy of “Fine Modeler” and a UK-based electronic periodical, Air Volvo returned me to the Volvo Cave. I rested until about 5.

Air Volvo took me to BJ’s Brewhouse, and I arranged to have a drink at the bar while I waited for the rest of the folks to show up. Mo was working tonight, but we had Mo arrange Courtney as our waiter (Mo was filling in for someone—she does not usually work Sundays) and stayed with the plan. Mariah joined me at the bar, and Dondrea and Z soon appeared. We were seated and met Courtney, and we had tables and chairs arranged for six.

Deborah sent me a photo of a drink in honor of Susie while I was at the bar. I am sure, dear reader, many of you remembered Susie with a drink or a happy thought. Thank you all.

During dinner, we had many toasts to Susie and good friends.

I ordered some appetizers. And Orange marmalade calamari was soon before us. Z’s first encounter with this food with tentacles. Later, I ordered pot stickers, fried, not grilled, followed (both suggestions from Mo and heartily endorsed by Courtney). Z found Jambalaya on the menu and decided to try that–most of it disappeared inside Z. Dondrea and I both went with the Midwest-style prime rib, giant slices, baked potato and asparagus, and a salad. Mariah and Corwin (who was late, and Courtney accepted the role of shaming him for being late with a smile) both went with the double pork chop. We told a few funny stories about Susie and kept the dinner happy and lively. The booze helped (Z was full of sugar), and Courtney was perfect. Dessert, coming with most meals, was shared.

Sober and tired, I headed home as the party broke up. I paid the bill for everyone. One of the starting conditions was not to look at the price and order what you wanted. Everyone was happy, fed, and had another good memory for a sad day. A perfect ending for the day.

When I returned home, it was too early to head to bed, so I watched another episode of “Slow Horses”–this season is quite good and less dark. I showered and put on my PJs, read New Orleans history and a reprint from 1912, a recently made guidebook, and checked a 1927 atlas (yes, I have that for the Call of Cthulhu play). I plan to visit the Storytown sites (the NOLA official and regulated red light district before WW1); I have read that only one building is left. This is not in the French Quarter (filled with Spanish architecture after the French town burned, but why quibble). More to follow on that when I am there.

Sleep comes, but I wake up often and later have leg cramps and disturbing dreams. I do manage to sleep enough, but I thought for a while I would rise at 3ish, as happens some nights. I was relieved to wake up today, Monday, after 7.

Thanks for reading!

 

Saturday started with me waking at 7ish, rising, and beginning to write the blog. Coffee was my drug of choice, and I needed the caffeine. I must have been partying with Morpheus; focus and writing were difficult Saturday morning. Also, the sneezing was endless, and the sun rose on another dry and sunny day. The fallen pollen has started, and the air-cleaning rain and Oregon Mist will not begin until Wednesday.

I could not get enough liberal coffee this morning, so I added water to the French press. The bitterness of liberal coffee reminds you that so much can be better and that there is much to do. Hope is in my cup, too—hope that we will overcome injustice and poverty and that people will invest in making a better world, not someday–today. Try some liberal coffee; there is delicious and cheerful hope in there!

Stepping off the soap box, I continued to write, read emails, and read the news (focusing on the war in the Middle East and political news). I read yesterday that Harris was up in the political polls (the news today is that Harris is down in the different polls). I read that more Nobel prizes were awarded to the AI community, which is excellent.

Lunch is reheated ribs from BJs Brewhouse with the extra sauce supplied by my waiter, Mo, poured on them. I opened a can of baked beans to go with them, thinking I needed some cole slaw to go with this, too, but that will have to be just a thought. And while I thought I was not that hungry and that I would leave a few ribs, only some beans were put back in the frig. I remember Susie eating ribs while I dined; she loved them.

I dressed, and soon, I took Air Volvo to Big River coffee with the plan to write some code. I do manage some of that—just reading and understanding examples. I was mostly out of focus and looked at some travel options, texted, and chatted. I watched a video on how to play today’s game, Andromeda’s Edge.  Still, it was an enjoyable afternoon.

Time was plentiful, and then was not. I return home and have a quick dinner of leftover pasta and sausage via the microwave. Traffic on Saturday always surprises, and I crawl across Beaverton and Portland, finally arriving at the Safeway and getting more goodies for Richard’s gaming group (pretzels do not have oil and thus cannot damage a board game, and the same goes for Pringles). I add some travel mix of nuts and dried fruit with a low risk of damaging a board game. Richard is there early, too (he often goes for a walk before the game), and he invites me in. He does a teach, but the video covered the game well.

Chris joined us, and we played a three-person game. This is a reimplementation (with improvements) of the older and loved Everdale board game to a SciFi setting. Well-loved by some, I am not a fan, and this older game is in my “yes, I will play it if you bring it” category of board games. This reskinning to SciFi and rebalancing and rule fixing has produced an excellent new game. Richard’s copy was the all-in Kickstarter version and now sells for about $250, maybe with shipping, and has lovely plastic and wooden bits. The game was surprisingly efficient, and I found that my turn was easy to plan and understand what was happening. Richard slammed into Chris and me, and I soon lost every battle, but I had a pile of cards that had me retrieve my ships and suddenly recover and add more capabilities in the first turn, returning me to full power and better. Richard continued to attack and slam into us; he was unstoppable. But I still liked it and certainly enjoyed it better than Everdale. When preparing to play, I had read that Everdale owners were now only playing Andromeda’s Edge. Our game played fast and was done in two hours, even with me requesting clarification and help occasionally. Expecting to score at the bottom, I matched Chris’s score, 104, and we were both amazed by Richard’s 180+ score. A good showing for me in a first-time play.

The game is well-balanced, full of choices, and multiple-focused play. There is not one good path or a few promising paths like many games, and no part of the various tracks needs to be forgotten. Combat advantages can be mitigated by cards that are not difficult to obtain to the point that when I received a hand of cards, Richard refused to attack my ships (wisely).

I forgot my hat at Richard’s and will have to retrieve it before I head to New Orleans on Wednesday.

I look forward to playing it again, and I might swallow the price and order a copy, thinking Z and others might enjoy it. I am finding these re-implementation games to be an excellent investment.

I barely remember the trip back to Air Volvo; it was uneventful. I had time to make muffins from a pumpkin mix I got on my last visit to Trader Joe’s. I made 15 (not 16!) muffins. While waiting for the muffins, I enjoyed “Slow Horses” season three (three new episodes have been released since my last viewing). With the muffins cooling and looking well and cooked, next was a shower and PJs. I finished the night listening to more of The War of Worlds with a favorite, “There must be something to live for. There must be something even worth dying for” song. I was singing along to that one. With Progressive Rock filling my mind, I found sleep taking over and did not resist. I slept through with all my dreams forgotten, but there are hints of the red planet in my mind from dreams.

Thanks for reading!

Today, my mind played games with me, and I kept forgetting things and doing things out of order. Your subconscious knows it will not be a good day to remember things when there is pain, and it tries to steer you away from them. Susie left us last year on this same day of the week, and while the date is Sunday, Susie left us on this Friday last year. There are blogs for those days if you, dear reader, want to page back just over 360 or so days ago, but here is the link to the story of a year ago: Today 13Oct2023 Susie’s Passing. I have not gone back a year in the blog and read it, but I remember writing it and what it says; I will remember until I don’t remember anything anymore.

But my mind was trying to protect me, and I wrote and enjoyed writing the blog. Dear reader, I appreciate knowing that these words will at least be read by some and enjoyed. Thank you, reader!

But, enough tears on a lovely, sunny, cold morning here in Oregon. The rains have abated, and we will have chilly mornings and warm afternoons for the next days as the leaves turn and fall (and are not melted off the trees by the rains into a sticky mess). We might even enjoy raking the leaves this year. Bring on the cider, donuts, Halloween parties, and haunted houses! Remember, the time change in the USA is after trick-or-treat!

Finally returning to Friday’s narrative, I rose early, around 6, made liberal coffee, and started to write. My writing wandered a bit, but I managed to retell the story of Thursday and complete and publish the blog by 11ish. I made breakfast to go with brightness in my coffee cup, liberal. I fried bacon strips, made without pink salt, and then in the hot bacon drippings, I poured two eggs. I break the eggs into a small bowl, as I am not good with eggs, and slide the eggs into the hot grease. With care, I slosh the eggs around in the hot bacon fat and finish them with a flip for over-easy eggs. I popped them out soon and did not overcook the yokes; they ran golden on the plate. I was out of sequence and made toast last, but everything was hot when it landed on the table. Delicious.

Again, this was my mind, having me cook and write and avoid connecting with the dates and sad moments. Do things that are complex enough to distract you, and I did. I cooked breakfast, dressed, and then made a huge lunch that would be leftovers for the rest of the week. Pasta with sweet Italian sausage and sauce from a jar was soon assembled and enjoyed.

I remember, after a while, boarding Air Volvo and heading to hummingbird house by way of Safeway. At Safeway, I bought flowers; they have the best flowers and decent prices, and they cross Beaverton following a familiar path. I arrived at the hummingbird house, where Jennifer and Luis were enjoying the sleep afternoon and the start of making dinner. We remember today and Susie. The flowers are accepted and arranged; I always bring flowers, usually two sets. One for Susie’s room and one for the shared living area. Susie would see flowers from me everywhere she went at hummingbird house. We spent time together, and there were smiles as we shared a few stories.

Aside: Here is the website for the hummingbird house.

I returned home, and then Air Volvo departed for BJ’s Brewhouse. There, now fitting in a booth (a new experience for me), I took the last seat in the bar area. Mo was my waiter, and I had Bourbon and Ginger, Wild Turkey, to remember Susie. I ordered the dinner I would usually take back to Susie and Corwin at The Volvo cave: Full Rack of Ribs. Susie would often just want to rest and watch M.A.S.H. instead of going out, and Corwin would rise when the sunset and frequently resembled undead. I would have dinner alone, watch football, talk to the waiter, and bring them an excellent dinner they could eat at their convenience. They would split the rack at BJs, and Corwin soon learned (there was some yelling) not to eat the second rack without permission. Susie often left a rib for later, and Corwin soon discovered it was unwise to eat that. I ordered ribs and will have them for Saturday’s lunch; maybe I’ll leave one for a later snack. Mo got me a reservation at BJ for Sunday night. She might visit for a drink to remember Susie.

I was sad and depressed in the evening and found it hard to rise out of the darkness. I finally turned on the lights, did some laundry and dishes, and watched more of “Vox Machina,” an excellent animated series based on Dungeons and Dragons and a comic book. It uses ‘f**k’ more like the word ‘very’ and contains some adult content, but it is light and fun. Recommended. It reminds me of many of my role-playing game experiences.

Feeling better, the darkness is gone, but the sadness remains. I shower and put on my PJs. I am not ready to sleep and go for something in the back of my mind; I ask Amazon Echo to play the War of the Worlds album from the Progressive Rock Music era of the 1970s and 80s. I enjoy the first part and the best section and stop it at the Thunderchild, and with Progressive vibes, I soon sleep the night through.

Thanks for reading!