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I rolled over a few times despite enjoying multiple options to wake up that evening and slept to my alarm at 7. I am using an alarm because it seems impossible to know what time it is with the time change and the on-and-off rain and cloudiness we are experiencing this fall/winter/spring (it all looks the same here in the Greater Portland, Oregon area).

We say the season changes are determined by feeling the rain, cold means it is winter, cool means fall or spring, and warmish means spring/summer. We often call this season Nov-Dec-Jan-Feb-Mar-April-May-June month.  With the election and the darkness, I am careful to get more light and avoid SAD or what I call lack of light depression. I used to joke around March that folks living here should change their silverware and kitchen knives to plastic to avoid just offing yourself in an attack of depression while making a sandwich. This year, with the grief and election (which yet may cause more grief) and leftovers from the pandemic (I read that some studies show that many of us are grieving unknowingly for our previous life before the pandemic), I might take my own joking advice. Yikes!

I was lazy, as usual, on Monday, being retired. It is my Saturday morning as others work and get started on yet another work week; there are fewer texts, and the news and accounts are muted due to Sunday being a slow news and transaction day. I can just go slow.

It takes me until 11ish to finish the blog. Breakfast is liberal Trader Joe’s coffee, which still tastes like Justice, Compassion, and Community despite being a corporate product. Hope is always at the bottom of my cup ready to jump into the world and bring, well, hope.

I am writing this story about Monday, Tuesday, Election Day, and I should record my feelings about the election before it is called.

On the subject of hope, many of my liberal friends are scared of the election and four more years of Trump, but I remember We the People survived LBJ, Nixon, Trump (version 1), and the strange presidency of Bill Clinton. Should things go to Trump, we will survive and learn again all the limits of the president and federal government powers, and I suspect tear gas will perfume our streets again. As a retired person who is now not a caring giver, I will be out there protesting any stupidities. I also know it is easier to complain than to actually govern, and I suspect the four years, should they be full of controversy, will produce little results (other than sales of tear gas). I have hope and drink deep this election of my liberal coffee, drank most mornings for eight years starting on Wednesday two four-year elections ago. 

Returning to Monday, I grab some ham with my banana and liberal coffee. I think I need more protein and fewer carbs. I have fallen behind on my walking, seldom breaking a few thousand steps of late, with excuses of the rain and excellent distractions each day, but I look forward to walking many steps in Michigan next week.

I reheated some Jambalaya, which is better than I remember; it just needs some heat in the spices. It’s not bad for someone’s first try at making it from scratch. I shall venture on with more cooking soon.

The mail has arrived, and I have two packages, one for Corwin (he is still sending them here). I have books from Crescent City Books. One is the history of prostitution in Argentina; after learning the history of New Orleans (NOLA), this has become an interest of mine. The other is the Veganonmican, an early Vegan cookbook. Yes, a diverse selection of books. The cookbook covers essential “Betty Crocker”-like vegan recipes, allows for canned ingredients, and explores basic sauces. Perfect for someone like me who is just interested and wants to produce good food for anyone. Having looked at some recipes, the authors often say this is not an authentic version of this or that, just something that worked for them. They also assume you have considerable exotic veggies available and provide only occasional substitutes. Hmmm. Again, this a book full of opportunities to learn. There is a stuffed pepper recipe that has my attention.

I finally dressed and took an Air Volvo to get gas. I got to the filling station, parked, opened the app, selected a pump, drove up, and explained to the full-service folks (still The Way of Oregon) that I was using the app; they made an effort not to do eye rolls. I took steps to accept the app on the pump, paid with my Apple Pay, and soon, gas flowed. It was 50 cents less a gallon today. Despite the troubles, with 17 gallons going into Air Volvo, I saved $8.50, enough for a beer! As someone retired and living off of his investments (Social Security is more than a year away, and health care four), I need to economize those things that are not fun.

Yes, Air Volvo still has a check engine light. My hope that refilling it with gas would help failed, so I will have to get it serviced soon—but not on Monday.

I return home, read more Veganonmicon (my spelling keeps changing, but that is the nature of such a dread book), and then decide to get my hair cut. Without Zorida here, I head to Great Clips, where the same gal cuts my hair as last time. They are wearing paper masks, and I offer to wear one and learn it is for their protection and mandated by corporate, not for COVID-19 but for so many folks with colds and flu. No mask is needed for me.

I got a short haircut, off the ears, a business look. Best to make things simple when you are traveling. It is soon over, and Air Volvo, still with a check engine light, takes me home to the Volvo Cave. There, I found some excellent distractions on a call and read the news. I am greatly relieved that there were no SNAFUs or shenanigans with voting at the start of the election.

Dinner was at Pepita’s Mexican Restaurant & Cantina in Beaverton with Dondrea and Z, yes, DMZ. We were there early, before 5, and were the first customers. Dondrea and I went for the Chile Colorado plater, and Z went out on a culinary limb and ordered fish enchiladas. Margaritas are for the folks over 21, and Z gets a no-alcohol Piña Colada. The food was excellent, with Z’s risky choice being partially good. We mainly talked about travel and a few thoughts on the election.

Stuffed and skipping dessert, we head out in separate ways. Air Volvo reaches the Volvo Cave with no issues. I decided to watch Tom Hank’s Apple+ –only WW2 movie, Greyhound. It is an excellent movie, and the special effects are outstanding. Much was shot on a surviving Fletcher Class destroyer, the workhouse of the USA WW2 navy. I was surprised that it was ninety minutes of endless action. Tom Hanks makes it all seem real. The original story, The Good Shepard, by C.S. Forester, is a favorite author of mine, but I have not read this book. The action reminded me less of a WW2 story but of a wargame from Avalon Hill, Submarine. I think I have played the scenario. Still, I recommend Greyhound if you want to spend ninety minutes glued to your screen and see what a Fletcher Class can do and why so many destroyers were lost in the war.

Aside: Corwin picks up his package while I am out and enjoys and finishes my Jambalaya. He reports it to be good, though it could be hotter spiced. Excellent.

After that, I was tired and nearly fell asleep in the chair. I rose, showered, and got on my PJs. I finished the Vampire Cookbook with one more recipe and story. The ending was predictable, with the principal storyteller, a disreputable bartender, not escaping his fate–no spoilers.

Sleep came slowly, with me being warm and cold and then pain in my toes. The little electric shocks from chemo and/or diabetes did not improve my sleeping. Hydration is the solution for me. Usually, my mind wanders, and I find new things to worry about, but once I resolved one issue—trying to remember a name (requiring me to look at posts and suddenly recall it)—my mind went blank, sleep came, and I returned to the everyday world around 6 to prove hydration.

That brings me to today, Election Day in the USA.

Thanks for reading.

 

 

 

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks for reading.

 

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that takes me full circle. Thanks for reading!

 

I rose early as I could not sleep and would not roll over again and again. I found my slippers and my robe; the house was an orchid night-friendly 66F (19C) and not uncomfortable with a robe. Soon, liberal coffee was made, and the taste of Justice, Compassion, and Community flavored my blog and the revisions of my sermon for Sunday.

Writing the blog was harder today as I had much on my mind, including getting to Eric “Elric” Anderson’s memorial in Michigan. Flights have been arranged, and a recovery day from travel for this trip is now part of the plan. I also re-joined Costco (I let my membership go during the pandemic) and used their travel services to reduce the cost of a rental car (thanks, Deborah, for that idea). I used Expedia for flights and hotels, with one hotel being almost paid for by my accumulated points and status. As we started into the holidays, the flight was about $400 each way for a cheap seat. There are cheaper discount airlines, but I took Delta instead and a direct flight. I will fly to Detroit this time as the extra $100 bucks and three hours to fly to Lansing connecting from Detroit (DTW) or Chicago (ORD) makes little sense to me in the winter. I will either make it to Detroit/PDX or not (the name for Portland International Airport is sensibly the call letter: PDX). I have also planned a day for a missed flight (or a recovery day if I make it). I will leave around midnight from PDX on 13 Nov 2024, get a car in Detroit the following day, and enjoy the drive to East Lansing. I return on 20 Nov 2024 from DTW, arriving late in PDX (the name for Portland International Airport).

While taking a short thinking break on the blog, I edited and updated the sermon text. When I write, I am not all steam-of-consciousness; I stop and start as I try to assemble events out of the mish-mash that is my memory of the previous day (for example, it has taken me an hour to remember what I had for breakfast yesterday, ham).  While I make a living in computers, my mind is not the usual perfect recall I envy of my fellow technologists, but instead a creative mass of lost connections that suddenly reconnect in strange ways. It makes me innovative but forgetful and easily distracted into rabbit holes. But I often find something in those darn rabbit holes.

Yesterday, I bought a spiral-cut ham (I prefer not to slice hams) and had a few slices for breakfast. While trying to avoid overprocessed food, I was missing ham. This one cost extra, too, as it is smoked. It is perfect for the Jamabalya, and I hope to make it this weekend using the New Orleans School of Cooking recipe. I had the ham with a banana (I am still low on potassium).

I did more writing and revising. Getting something polished takes hours of work, and I tried not to add but to improve clarity. It is so easy to bloat the text now that I am editing. I did drop some words.

Lunch will likely require some cooking, and I decided it would be a good day to let someone else cook. I head to the Mexican place across from The 649, Tapatio: Mexican Restaurant, and my waiter remembers me. It has been a while, and I explain that nothing they have will not put weight on me—except I order the soup. No beer, just iced tea and soup.

I talked to the waiter; his son had married into a Jewish family and was living in Israel and had to run from the war. They are safe now and living in California, and my waiter is a proud grandpa who can now drive and see his kids and grandkids. All safe and only ten hours away by car. A happy ending!

Next, after paying and ignoring the treat supplied with the check, I head to The 649 and order a single beer and pay. Crystal was happy to see me, as she, too, was missing me. I have a beer, chat with her about my trips to Chicago and NOLA, and show her the video of me cooking. I drink the beer slowly, order my rental car, and organize my trip to Michigan more. I called Linda, my sister, and told her of the revised dates and possible dinner plans with her and her family on Thursday.

I return home in Air Volvo, and Corwin soon drops by. I help him with insurance, and we get him set up with Allstate and vastly cheaper coverage for his truck. He is now paying 50% of his previous cost and has started a relationship with a local office for insurance; having humans interested in you as a customer to talk to is so much better when it comes to insurance.

I cook spatchcocked chicken with lemon and seasoning from Trader Joe’s, which you just bake for about an hour. I make mashed potatoes with the skins on, and wilt steamed green beans (frozen and from Trader Joe’s) in butter, fresh garlic, salt, and almond slices in a frying pan. It is good, and there are leftovers. I split the leftovers with Corwin. Corwin did the dishes and then headed out. He walked home, hoping soon to have insurance.

I read until tired, a few hours actually, and got through three more stories in the Vampire Cookbook. Apparently, they serve a rare (bloody) steak at the Vampire Café (just flipped over a few times on a hot iron skillet), not something I would usually go for. The Friday laundry is done but has not been put away yet.

I turn on the Amazon sleeping music channel to drown out the gutter noise and the funny creaking the house has started to make this winter. With one noise, repeating every hour or so loud enough to wake me. The music helps, and I sleep until 5, when I receive a text, fall back to sleep, and then have an anxiety-based dream since I did not wake up enough to read it. Poo. Also, the sermon does not reduce my anxiety. I wake from the dream with my heart rate a bit higher, but I am fine.

Thanks for reading.

 

 

It is not my place to tell other people’s stories, but this story is now on the Internet, and I feel comfortable providing a link. Eric “Elric” Anderson unexpectedly passed away last week, and I plan to fly to Michigan for his service on 16 November @ 11AM in Laingsburg, Michigan. Please see the link here.

“Elric” was my friend since 5th grade. He was one grade higher than me, and we learned how to play Dungeons and Dragons together. He would laugh often and tell terrible jokes. I usually find myself when writing stopping and thinking about how would “Elric” say or write this. “Elric” is charging ahead now, laughing and calling us to join him in the next adventure.

Returning to the narrative, Halloween started with me rising early with my alarm at 7 and eventually heading it. I missed the off button this time, and it went off again as I debated whether I was asleep again. I was. I rose on the second alarm.

It was Halloween, and I wanted to finish the sermon for Sunday today. I got to writing with only a few distractions, some excellent, and avoided reading the news about the election, war, and even new recipes. Focus was required today!

The coffee was made from Equal Exchange French Roast, which is my last bag. I picked up more fair-exchange-certified coffee and will try a few other brands. I have a croissant and a banana to go with my coffee. While rushed, I noticed the flavors of Justice, Compassion, and Community in my cup, and Hope soon rose to enter the world again.

The blog took much of the morning with a few breaks to update the sermon with a few words, but mostly editing and dropping wooden language, which often slips into my writing. Also, Grammarly found some exciting ways to ruin my flow of words. Those were reversed.

I managed to publish the blog, but it did have three (or more) typos I saw later. One must be brave enough to publish with faults when writing a blog daily. It is a courageous act to push ‘Publish.’ Not every time do I find all the mistakes, especially on a rushed day. So, please forgive me when you wince when reading. No promises not to error again, and Grammarly adds a certain level of error that is difficult to prevent–I press the ‘accept’ button a lot less now.

I headed this time to McMinnamen’s Cedar Hill Crossing Pub. Scott suggested a change now that it was cold and wet. The Pub has a fire in the winter and feels quite homey even though it is a recent addition. Scott and I got a table near the fire. Tyler suggested that when texting details of “Elric’s” service, I drink a stout for him in memory of “Elric.” I ordered their Terminator Stout. Scott has an Impossible paddy in his burger, and I agreed that it was an excellent idea (mine was a Captain Neon burger with bacon and blue cheese, which did get a raised eyebrow). It was good.

Scott and I talked about travel and plans for Thanksgiving. I am joining Scott and his friends for Thanksgiving. We also talked about investments, and Scott thinks it is better to get a mix of bonds and equities, with the bonds creating earnings, so there is always a payment in the structure—something to fund his future withdrawals. He also does not want to be involved in stock picking as he thinks he would enjoy other things instead of watching the markets. Scott and I enjoy lunch, beer, and chatting. Scott was getting some REI waterproof shoes, something I may need to do.

I returned home via Safeway. There, I bought candy for trick-or-treaters and some meats to cook for jambalaya, which I want to try soon, according to the New Orleans School of Cooking recipe. I also finally remembered to get toothpaste. Yay! A spiral-cut ham was not on special, but at least some were for sale (an item that had disappeared from the summer). I bought the higher-quality smoked ham.

With all my goodies, I headed home. I put them away and got out some limited Halloween decorations. I found my yelling skeleton, a projector of a haunted house, and some blinking lights that I have lost for years and found in my office boxes. The few, about four groups, in various looks, primarily bright. My skeleton, a plastic foot-tall guy calling out for help from his cage, fascinated the younger kids. Older kids and former kids were focused on handfuls of Snickers and Almond Joy, all ‘fun’-sized and not the yelling skeleton. I called for the older folks holding back to come forward and grab some of the bounty offered. I already had five! I wanted none to remain.

I wrote my sermon between candy events, with the skeleton calling out when more folks arrived. Corwin showed up and finished off the pizza—the usual Papa Murphy’s Pumpkin-shaped Halloween pizza with cookie dough. Corwin soon left, happy to visit, have some candy, get a jar of pasta sauce I have spare, and grab some other groceries I always grab for him. I finished the cookies and had a few.

I returned to writing and finished the first draft of the sermon. More editing and some updates will follow, but it was completed on Thursday. I decided it was time for a break and read more Vampire Cookbook stories.

Soon, the rains are pouring down outside. Fall/Winter has started. I put on sleeping music from Amazon’s Echo device and soon slept. Vampire cooks, AI, and other distractions haunt my forgotten dreams.

Thanks for reading!