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I rose at about 8, and all day, I was hungry to do things and to experience things. But first, I had to write a blog post, which took most of the morning. I also made breakfast of plums from Scott (more like plum-flavored water bags) and some buttered artisan bread. This was with liberal coffee, Equal Exchange, made in my French Press.  I now have a Treasury Direct account, and that requires a one-time code time each time I access it. I was excited to see that it scored $100 for investments in old-fashioned saving bonds (except these are indexed for inflation and pay 4.28% interest–but there is an annual limit of $10,000 in purchases, and you must hold them for a year).

I wrote over 2,000 words, and this took most of the morning. I was surprised to see the weather was cool and damp; it looked like fall and not mid-summer in the Pacific Northwest (PNW). Our Oregon mist was back, and even rain. My roses were almost dancing, slowly, in the damp. The PNW always looks right with some cloud-diffused sunlight, and everything is damp. I turned on the oven, it was about 62F (17C), and baked a Trader Joe’s Steak and Stout pie. I cleaned up, dressed, and was ready to head out in the cool PNW fall-like afternoon.

I dressed in a white dress shirt and my blue sweater vest as this would be warmer and dryer than a more casual outfit. I picked blue as I had worn green for church the day before. This time, I selected Air Force Ones.

I decided on the MAX into Portland and the Chinese Garden; I have a membership. I put on the wool Indiana Jones hat, which is meant for water, and grabbed an umbrella in case the mist turns to rain. There is no reason to get drenched. Air Volvo got me to the Quatama MAX station without issue. The Monday afternoon had not even filled a row of cars parked for free at the station. MAX usage sank during the pandemic, and with folks working from home there is less need to head into Portland. Also, the exodus from Portland (and other metropolitan areas in the USA) continues; Portland has fewer desk jobs. MAX is running three-car trains with about ten-minute waits.

The train was quiet and about 1/2 empty, even after passing through the busier stations in Beaverton. I enjoyed the trip to Portland, read some Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson, and soon was in downtown Portland. My stop is the last one on this side of the Willamette River. Portland is bisected by the river and joined by twelve bridges. I walked a wet two blocks with my situational awareness training, having me nonchalantly change street sides when there was a fight over a recycling bin. A small amount of illegal camping was near the Chinese Garden, which covers a whole block in Portland (which is carefully fenced), and I got to see some street theater.

Avoiding involvement in the now-recovered recycling bin, I showed my membership after passing the gate door (which can be easily locked to protect the volunteers from becoming involved in street issues) and was given my pass. The contrast of calmness and the beauty of the lotus flowers, small ponds, traditional structures and rocks, and the plantings to the streets of Portland is startling. Soon, I forgot the risks and noise of the streets and just relaxed. The mist became rain, and I used the umbrella. I made two circles and tried to see every room and view. I wanted the extra steps and the garden looked lovely in the gray of rain in the PNW. Perfect.

The waterfall was off, and when you looked in, there was a guy trying to repair it. I was told it had a leak, and I replied I was not surprised as that is really what a waterfall is. Hopefully, the unwanted leak will soon be located and plugged, and the falls can be brought back.

I stopped next at the tea house and ordered tea and wonton soup. I had this snack while reading some more Conan Doyle stories on my iPhone’s Kindle app. My memory is that the complete Holmes stories are free.

This time, I walked in the opposite direction and did one more lazy circle in the garden. The mist and rain had halted, and the day was slowly warming, too. I managed to answer a tourist question about the garden. I have been to a few in China and remember some of the words from various tours years ago and some I took of the garden here.

When you start being a guide, it is time to either sign up or leave. I chose to move on to the streets of Portland. The old Chinatown area has been sketchy and failing for years, and the current poor economic conditions have exacerbated the decline. The old buildings, many from the sailing ages and built with iron pillars that were made from the iron ballast for the sailing ships, have survived to now (most are gone in other cities from fire and earthquake). I took a few pictures.

I find myself surrounded by tourists who ignore me. They head to Voodoo Donuts after we cross Burnside (the dividing road from the old warehouse district (Pearl) and Chinatown, and I laugh and tell them about my favorites for them to consider (bacon maple bar and the voodoo donut of a zombie that bleeds cherry filling). They happily consider the options; the line is not too long today.

I plan to walk back to the Pioneer Square area to reconnect to MAX. I saw many Asian-style places, and the combined indoor Pine Street Market had some interesting options. This place is a group of different eateries in a combined space, much like carts. I will be back.

(If I had to pick a location for my evil cult headquarters in Portland)

I was walking by Portland Burgers and decided that I had to try the place. The fried items, pickles in my case, added much to the cost. The beer was also not cheap. I would recommend the mini-burger as even that is a lot of food. I regretted the deep-fried and bread pickles later. They accidentally gave me two orders, and I shared them with others who were soon stuffed with mini-burgers (that are not that mini) and shakes. If you want fries, shakes, and a good burger, this is the place–but at Portland prices.

Stuffed, I walked four more blocks to the MAX line and had a short wait for a blue-line train back to where I started. I read more about Holmes and “The Musgrace Ritual,” starting with Doctor Watson’s description of Holmes’s messy habits that sometimes distract him. It includes, I think, Watson’s best deadpan:

I have always held, too, that pistol practice should be distinctly an open-air pastime; and when Holmes, in one of his queer humors, would sit in an arm-chair with his hair-trigger and a hundred Boxer cartridges, and proceed to adorn the opposite wall with a patriotic V. R. done in bullet-pocks, I felt strongly that neither the atmosphere nor the appearance of our room was improved by it.

The text is in the public domain, which you can find here.

My trip was uneventful. I looked, surfing on my iPhone on MAX, into taking Calculus I again at PCC as something to add to my days and to tighten up my math skills. I could do the work without PCC, but having a schedule and seeing folks would be worth the cost. I will think about it. I was thinking of doing Vector Calculus (what we called Calc 2 when I was in college), but that would require a test, and I doubt I could pass the test now. Just a thought.

My tummy thought that the colon issues (an all-or-nothing experience best not shared here) and the introduction of greasy pickle fries and spears with a hamburger with sliced smoked brisket on it were insane. I managed to keep everything inside, and my colon did not decide to exit my early dinner early, either. I also walked for the first time over 5,000 steps in one go and was tired. I sat in my recliner and watched Star Wars Ahsoka on Disney+. I liked it and did four episodes. But I am not sure how close these align to the canon of Star Wars as they mention the Grand Admiral Thrawn (a favorite of mine), who existed only on the edges of the stories, mostly in books (I have read them all). I am sure with the return of Thrawn, it will be a kick.

Feeling less bad and sure that deep-fried and battered pickles should not be tried again, I head to bed early with a long hot shower. I was going to read but decided that sleep was better, and I must admit that I don’t remember much after that thought. I did have dreams of Star Wars (I was not on the good side–I said I liked Thrawn) and had to wake up when I dreamed there was some kind of heat loss issue on the bridge. I woke up, climbed under the covers, and returned to the highly efficient side of Star Wars.

Thanks for reading (and for those it fits: rebel scum!).

I see that Grammarly is still out of its AI mind. I think I have undone its many “improvements.”

I rose earlier than usual, around 8, which has been my start time for the last few days, because I had to write the blog, dress for church, and be there by just after ten: time-boxed. While I wrote, I had three very juicy (more like a water balloon!) plums that Scott gave me on Friday (he has more than he needs from a tree in his lawn) with a slice of bread from a bakery in Forest Grove with butter and a tiny bit of sea salt (I use unsalted butter). With this, I got coffee from my French Press. The drink was the last of the Kenya beans roasted and ground here in Hillsboro. I had little time for interruptions and stayed focused on my writing. I updated the Quicken transactions, but there were also very few interruptions.

Somehow, I had time for more than 1200 words! Saturday was packed full of activities, almost a weekend in a single day. I even had to update the published account later with something I forgot. I cleaned up, dressed, and was ready to board Air Volvo before ten. I picked my green sweater vest to go with the pride tie I usually wear to church. My tan pants were clean and not too badly wrinkled. I wore my black leather shoes with this. All this topped off with my summer hat.

It was a cool morning (62F/16C), with air from the ocean. The skies were a mix of clouds and blue. Smoke and its pine smell were gone. It was a lovely morning.

Aside: I had to check the style guides to see if it is a “Pride tie” or is the correct form “pride tie.” According to the AP and other sources I located on the Internet, the ‘P’ is capitalized if it is a part of a name; otherwise, it is not. Thus, “Beaverton Pride Parade 2024” and “I went to the pride event and had a good time.” The latter is correct. For my writing, I like to be the most correct and polite.

I arrived at the church on time, and the Progress Pride flag (it has a check to include more colors) was looking great by the side entrance. It had eyelets and clips, which let it flap nicely in even a light wind. I was soon inside and happy to see that the coffee was made before the service now that the lack-of-filters crisis was resolved. Pastor Ken arrived, and I told him the coffee was already done. He was much relieved and rushed over to get a cup!

Dondrea (church staff and leader of worship) asked me if I could take Z home after the service as Dondrea had church meetings afterward. I suggested pizza and some board games for lunch for Z in Beaverton and was given a time of 1:30 to deliver Z home. We, including Z, agreed to a plan.

During this summer, the church’s music has been retooled. I can sing and recognize the songs, and many are in the regular hymnal. Dondrea and Mary Beth did a piano and Cello duet of “Be Thou My Vision,” and you could hear some singing along. I did not know “Be Still My Soul,” but the tune is Finlandia (Methodist #534), my favorite, and it was lovely (and easy to sing). The others were all familiar and easy to sing.

Z was a liturgist today. She managed the task with the usual teenager: “I can’t believe I am doing this.” It was a rushed-through reading for the introductory items. But, her reading of the New Testament epistle James 5:1-12 was near perfect and slow, with pauses in the right places. Z seemed to underline the call that “your gold and silver have rusted” and other failures for the rich. The next section of the passages is a call for patience and kindness to each other. Z made them sound heartfelt.

Pastor Ken, now loaded with coffee, tried to shock us with his title, “Why Bernie Sanders is a Better Christian Than Christians,” but we are Methodists and are used to the pastor trying to shake us. We play the game by looking the same and not reacting. We listened more than usual, and I saw nobody nodding off today. Ken even called out for a response and had to repeat that with Dondrea (in the back standing near the sound system and making sure everything is running perfectly, or as perfect as she can keep things) called out back.

Ken’s message, which was heard, was that historically, the rich being called out in this passage were actually collaborators with the Roman occupiers who were extracting labor and pay from the poor for themselves and their Roman masters. There was no middle class in ancient Israel. James was focused on the poor and the working people and had no time for the wealthy traitors other than to call for God’s justice upon them, much like Bernie Sanders’s call to help the working and middle class and to stop giving help to the folks who do not need more help. Ken said he could not see much difference between the words of James of ancient Israel and Bernie’s calls for change.

Ken points out that James asks the poor not to attack each other but to be united. God is on their side, and they are to endure and let Job be their example. When answering ‘Yes’ or ‘No,’ let that be true, and no oaths should be taken. Or, as I would say, “Just Do It.”

After church, I found Z reading in the back, and we headed out to Air Volvo. We picked out the board games Azule and Furnace from the cargo hold (which is full of board games). We then walked to Sizzle Pie in Beaverton. I had a Rabbit salad (huge), and Z had a white pizza with whole garlic backed onto it. I asked if we could play some games, and the guy agreed. We played Azule and used our simplified scoring process (put on all the tiles and then count the score with pairs counted as one and add it in each time minus any reductions for dropped tiles or taking the first player tile). We had time to play four games, with me winning three and being crushed 31 to zero in the one I lost. I was lucky the first few games, and Z had to remember to block me. She nearly caught me a few times.

Soon, 1 approached, and we packed up and thanked the folks for the food and the table. We reloaded Air Volvo, and Z took first class (and co-pilot) chair in Air Volvo. We arrived a few minutes early and scanned Red Tail Golf near Dondrea and Z’s house. I later learned that Dondrea and Z are south-paws, and finding a few cheap clubs for them (Dondrea is tall) would be a challenge, if not impossible. So, my idea of the driving range and other golf things faded.

I dropped off Z, who had a nice time and headed home in an Air Volvo. I arrived home without issue, but I did notice police everywhere. It is near month-end, and apparently, the locals are behind in their tickets. Beware!

I picked up my laptop, headed back out, and soon arrived at The 649, where Stephen served me an excellent Pilsner and some chips. I wrote for a while and surfed on the Internet. I watched some of the Olympics, as it was the finals for Women’s Archery. My cousin, Joe, was on the para-Olympic team for archery in 2008 in Beijing. I am always ready to watch archery (I never was serious but have been shooting a few times and always enjoyed it). Korea beat China for the gold.

Stephen made me coffee, and I started on a solo board game, Nemo’s War, which I acquired on a Kickstarter and enjoy playing. I had to recall some of the rules as I had not played them in about a year (time seems to speed by and then run slowly), and I made a mistake on the setup. I played to the very edge of failing (there are two goals, avoid sudden loss, and then score high enough that Nemo will be happy–yes, there is text for each scoring range) and saw I had a stack of cards left and lost. I did not know that the stack was a mistake, and I had one last move left–just one card, so I would have made it to scoring had I sunk one extra ship. Puke!

It was now beyond 7, and Crystal had replaced Stephen. It was time to head home, and I paid the bill. Air Volvo had me at the house. I did some late laundry and discovered another House of Dragon episode had dropped. I watched it and was surprised by the theme and special effects. Being on the receiving end of this dragon’s breath is not good. Our anti-hero, Daemon, played by the former Doctor Matt Smith, has to accept some justice. I think this and the previous episodes are excellent. Less sex, more acting, and a storyline with plenty of dragons.

The sun had just set, and I felt I needed to do something. I headed out under darkening skies with my Air Force Ones and a T-shirt and enjoyed a near-perfect windless night. I walked to the creek and was happy that I did not find it that difficult; I was breathing only a bit hard on the way back and near the house. I reached 4,700 steps for Sunday. Excellent.

(I think I may need to make them a letter. And this looks ready for some dramatic music and strange lights)

I always find the perfect cool, windless twilight spooky. It just gives me the creeps. It seems perfect for summoning something or being hunted by some arcane horror. Somehow, it is Lovecraft’s time (see this).

Without horrific accidents or findings of lost arcane magic, best forgotten, I reached the Volvo Cave and returned to less frightening tasks. I put away the laundry, loaded dishes into the dishwasher, and wrote a few more words for my Holmes and Watson story. Next, I showered and headed to bed; seeing it was late, I read for only a short time. I took my meds, applied eye grease to my still-troubled left eye, and soon fell asleep. The house was too warm for me, and I woke late, made adjustments, and slept until sunrise.

Thanks for reading.

Saturday started with me rising at 7ish and feeling like the morning came too soon. I had no plans except for a game at Richard’s house at 6 at night. I found the kitchen, it had not moved and started making coffee. Today, more Kenyan coffee will be roasted and ground in Hillsboro. It was more northern California with the bright sun, but it was cold in the morning and going to the low 80s later (26C). The house and outside smelled of pine smoke, and I would be sneezing and coughing despite the good air quality rating. There is something in the fire that does not agree with me! I feel tired and have to use my inhaler all day. I will not be walking today with just 2300+ steps for the day. But I did not carry my phone in the garage when I was looking for it; the count should be much higher.

I write the blog, read the news online (still mostly political), and update my Quicken with the newest transactions. Now, I have to put in a code each time for my Treasure Direct account. I am waiting to see if my first experimental purchase of a $100 savings bond (index for inflation) will process. My Alaska Airlines card is replacing my US Bank card and my AMEX. This is to get miles and remove the bank card from providing direct access to my checking account.

I am done by with the blog by 10ish, clean up, dress, and ready to face the day. But it is smoky, and I am affected. I decided not to take up a sitting project like writing, model building, or figure painting and decided to find the garage. I do not plan to do any heavy lifting or organizing (if I do, I will ask Matt V over who would like to help with that), but I suspect there are plenty of easy recycling and trashing things I could do. I will also limit my head moving below my waistline; falling is a bad thing, and since the brain surgery, I am at risk of losing the location of the floor and sky. I have no balance left on my left side, and my sight is compensating. If I am looking down and cannot see the horizon, I might not know where up and down is.

Before looking for the garage, I did try outside by watering the roses and a few other plants. The air made me sneeze. I also got covered in dust as I tossed an old ruined hose (I replaced all the hoses in the Spring). I am still collecting and throwing away the old hoses.

In the area formerly known to be a garage, I keep my feet pointed down the whole time. I manage to throw away junk that has accumulated over the last few years. I discovered that resin had run all over my work desk from a bottle of epoxy. Since it is not mixed with the other 1/2 of the epoxy, it has not glued anything and just made things sticky. I have to clean my hands with alcohol to get rid of it. I will have to clean the workspace and items with alcohol–that is for another day when it is cooler.

I find my Nike move boxes. We moved four times when corporate was sending Information Technology (IT) people to random buildings not on the WHQ campus. It was impossible to take seriously after so many chaotic moves; in frustration, I stopped unpacking four of my boxes and just stacked them wherever they moved us for the next two years. For each move (more than three), I would pick up my laptop and a few personal items, put the new location label over the last one, and let the corporate move people move them to my new location, where I would then sit. I am where my laptop is.

Jokers would put a single ream of paper in a box with my name and location and send it to me. I might have retaliated with a wastebasket on the next move. These moves went on until Nike leadership decided that desks and locations were no longer needed. Soon, we were reduced to a locker, and an ad hoc location that was “first come, first serve” in a team area and a specific building, and my boxes were then just forgotten in my garage. Until today…

After cleaning up some areas and stacking a few items to make it easier to negotiate the floor, I grabbed the first box and found my old biz cards and various items I used to have on my desk. This included a shoe for the upgrade back long ago. Nike IT now gives awards not in plaques or framed certificates but in specially made sample shoes. I also found my old rewards that predated that. Some went in the trash as not very interesting.

I found my years of service awards, each framed, and will consolidate them into one frame with the last year, XXV, showing. I have seen folks put their biz cards in a frame, and now that I am retired, I think I will do that. I have cards, somewhere, that go back to the 1980s. I tried to keep a few from each job for the day when I would frame them and look back. That seems to be now. It is a strange feeling to finally reach the point to frame and look back after imagining it for my whole working life (starting in 1985 as a part-time computer operator as a summer job).

I found old coding standards, once-expensive books on coding and standards, and various technology books from yesteryear. They are all now in the recycle bin (even a COBOL book). I also found my homemade CDs, back when I would write my own playlists on a CD to take my music to work. In those distant days, we used desktops and had a built-in CD player with a place to plug in headphones. Later, laptops would provide the same useful plug (Bluetooth was a failing technology back then). All to the trash, but a good memory.

However, I found the DVD of Nike’s software, which was converted from SAP version 4.6 to 6.3 by SmartShift. I did not think I had anything of value in these boxes. I sent a picture to Brad (my old boss) and Michael G with a picture of a box with all my move labels. I will return or destroy the two DVDs, but Michael replied with a friendly note. It is good to remember all of our good works.

I also found endless, so it seemed, convention lanyards and travel items from Turkey and Florida. I used to travel more than 10% of the time. I was in Istanbul and Europe for three years in a row, working on tax software compliance with the Turkish and other governments. My glass Turkish tea glasses, forgotten in the box, are now in the dishwasher.

While the garage is still missing and replaced with what looks like a wrecked warehouse for a gaming store, model building, electronics, and yard work items, there is hope to soon recover it. The goal is to park Air Volvo again in the garage. I need some new shelves and to throw away or recycle items that have never left their shelves for years.

After all the work, my back and legs complained. Again, my iPhone was safe in the house and did not record the hours of work. I changed clothing and cleaned up again. I then boarded Air Volvo, adding Unsettled to the cargo hold of board games.

Next, Air Volvo headed to Portland. But I stopped by the local coffee shop and got a European Mint Mocha. I was tired, and smoke was likely contributing to my sleepiness. Dark chocolate, mint, and coffee combined are my secret weapon against these feelings. Energized, the trip to Portland took 35 minutes in light traffic. There were some instances of four-lane at once change, extra-legal, but it was done with a blinker and full usual Portland politeness. The older model, BMW, who did that at 50 to reach an exit, almost deserved a golf clap.

Today, we played the beautiful and fun to play the newest and, I assume, deluxe version of Yedo. A worker placement, card play, and resource management game with a Japanese theme. You collect resources and workers to do missions of various difficulty to receive victory points–kind of mini-goals. There is also a stacking of cards that can get even more cards, and I did find us waiting as five cards, keep two, would be run over and over.  I discovered that the game is mean and that some resources are unavailable if not acquired at the start. Next time! I also learned the hard way that the bidding process is just one bid.

I scored above Chris but behind James and Richard (who won) by quite a distance. They both had played the game many times and knew the best places to get victory points. I was told my score was excellent for a first-time player. I enjoyed the game and would play Yedo again. I will consider buying a copy if I play it again and it plays for less than four hours.

I returned home in light traffic. I took the huge on-ramp to Freemont Bridge, which is taller than the bridge’s roadway! It was like being launched into space in a sci-fi movie. With the exception of the high flying, it was an uneventful trip.

I gave my wooden pieces to Richard for Grand Hotel Austria, but some are missing. After returning home in Air Volvo, I searched the house but did not find them. I will look more.

I took a shower and soon was in bed. I woke at 4ish cold and crawled under the covers after proving my hydration.

Thanks for reading.

 

I rose early at 6, as I was wide awake. I found the croissant I purchased in Forest Grove the day before and had that with a banana and coffee. I made the coffee in my French press with coffee from Kenya that was roasted and ground locally. The smoke was strong enough that I could smell it in the house, so I selected not to risk any walking and limited my outdoor activity. The air quality measurement is still good on Friday and Friday night. The winds are still blowing the smoke East and North into the high desert across the Cascade Mountain Range. Eastern Washington and Idaho have terrible air and smoke.

I write until ten and then publish. I then added links to FaceBook and an email for those who wanted a personal note. You can subscribe, but you have to create a free account to get automatic notifications of a new post.

There are many distractions, and I manage to use up the whole morning. Dressed and all that, I head a bit early to the Cedar Hills Mall area. Scott is joining me for our “Thursday lunch,” now rescheduled to Friday, which we used to do weekly when working for the shoe company, instead of the healthy and familiar salad bar instead some excellent sandwiches at Elephants Delicatessen, one of the newest food joint in the Cedar Hills Mall complex. I am early, and I walk through Best Buy and see the 96-inch wall-sized screens that are now available.

While I marveled at where we had taken screens, but I also noted that the screens finally looked like something from SciFi. My father was always disappointed in selling huge heavy cabinet TVs at Wild’s Furniture and Appliances in the 1980s. “I thought a TV would be something we could just put on a wall by now and move as needed,” I remember him complaining. Also, the old cabinet TV generated radiation (thick glass was used to protect us viewers) and had to be demagnetized and readjusted every few years to keep the colors correct. Dad thought this should have been better, and I know he would have been pleased with what I saw at Best Buy and would have loved to be on the floor selling them. “I know, but I have some re-manufactured ones that let you see the Olympics like you are there,” I imagine Bob saying. “Oh, we sold the last one, but I can let you have this one at the same price,” I could hear with that twinkle in his eyes. “Why yes, these imported electronics can fail without warning, so yes, the five-year warranty is the best,” I could him say without blinking.

I saw that Best Buy had an LG microwave and hood combination that would match well with my previous upgraded appliances. There was no price. I suspect installation will be crazy, but it would let me have back some counter space. I had the microwave on the counter so Susie could reach it, and she and Corwin would not be reaching over the hot oven to use the microwave. Now, a hood/microwave would work for me. I will think about it (likely another multi-thousand upgrade).

Scott appeared in his cool red jeep. We walked through to the drinks and ordered a sandwich at the counter. We took numbers to have the repast delivered to a table outside but still undercover and cool and placed our respective tags in a holder, two on our table. We talked about our retirement experiences and the changes in our lives. Neither of us is searching for new work. Scott has an infinite amount of house and lawn work to face. I have my hobbies, endless housework, and finding the garage again at some time (like Doctor Who, there is a blue door to the garage that demonstrates a spatial ministry: it is smaller inside). Scott has heard a few things from Nike folks. None for me. We had a nice lunch, and it was good to catch up. Scott’s plum tree produces a bumper crop, and he gave me a gallon bag of wipe plums.

After lunch, I took Air Volvo to the local Powell’s and headed to the Mystery section and the Conan Doyle area. I found a few books I wanted. I have Doyle’s letters, his White Company story in an old hardback, and a book that will explain Sherlock Holmes with pictures and various writers. I also found a toothbrush holder at a deep discount (they still have quite a few) and bought one as I thought I needed one. I did not expect to get one at Powell’s.

I loaded that in Air Volvo and headed next to Big Coffee. I called Dondrea and asked if they would like Mexican-style food for dinner. Maybe. As I deplaned from Air Volvo, the smell of pine and smoke was quite noticeable after I reached Big River Coffee. My favorite spot was taken, so I found a smaller table on the first floor. I read more of the original Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson stories. I also located a website with searchable text (here) for all the stories (the canon), allowing me to look at certain word usage. I discovered I had used a set of words that often appear in movies but are not used by Holmes or Watson in any of the stories. I corrected my story to align with the canonical usage. I thus avoid loading the stories into a non-SQL database for unstructured data like Mongo to study word usage in the original story. For now, I believe I can use simple text searches in my browser to check certain word and phrase usage.

I managed to add another page as Holmes and Watson discuss their impact on our human beliefs of soul and self (as represented in the books The Mind’s I). With absolute glee, I have Holmes quote Jesus (without crediting). But as this is set in the Holmes of the 1880s, he would have been raised with these words, and they would be found everywhere in their society. It is not likely he would not have heard them and would use them.

I received a text that dinner at Si Señor Family Mexican Restaurant was on for 5. I had enough time to consider new financial items. Without warning, my US Bank Savings account reduced the interest rate to 1.9%. I was told it was not going below 4%, but it is likely that there is some manipulation going on that I missed. I noticed this when my interest payment was 1/2 of last month, and there was more money in the account. F**k!

It’s time to get serious about investing after this curfuffle. I created an account with the US government, Treasury Direct, and enjoyed setting up various account links. However, I made an error setting my savings account to a checking account (but providing the correct routing and account values). I cannot fix this online nor delete the account, and each attempt (as I learned this) requires new authorization codes to be emailed to me. Not knowing if this would work, I ordered a $100 savings bond (inflation-adjusted) and will see if this works. I managed to connect my Treasury Direct to Quicken. The download of updates each time requires a One Time Passcode (OTP) emailed to me; apparently, there are no trusted devices when dealing with the Treasury.

I was a few minutes late for dinner because of a terrible accident, and I was rerouted around it. When I got there, Z and Dondrea had eaten most of the chips. It was happy hour, and we ordered happy hour items. We all got nachos. Z and I both ordered the mixed appetizers, which neither of us could finish. Sticking with Dondrea’s theory that alcohol makes weight loss impossible, I had iced tea while they had fountain drinks.

Z and Dondrea had previously been shopping for back-to-school supplies and were happy that this year’s total was under $250. Last night, I researched calculators and found Ohio’s official recommended 8th-grader calculator list. I took that to Amazon and found a green version of a TI science calculator that was approved by nearly everyone and was discounted (a pink calculator was $20 more for the same model; Barbie lovers are going to need extra cash), and Dondrea used the link to order it after sharing it with Z.

Air Volvo returned me home after saying good night, and I tried to get my servo to work on my electronic project there. Nothing. I am either going to shelf this and return to the model building or tear everything down, document, and try again. I find that a start-over and rebuild often uncover the issue when doing low-voltage microcontroller work. It may be that the Seeed XIAO controllers are unstable, and I know these voltage levels are tricky to control motors and servos. I have run into instabilities on my projects before (the unfinished radio project being one of them). This is why cars use 12V, heavy wires, and with lots of amps.

I finished my night reading a brain cookie Star Trek novel set in the original show. After showering and sleeping for a bit, I again woke in a cold house, got up, put eye grease in my left eye, and climbed under the covers. I woke at 5 with a sore throat and the start of hives from the smoke. Apparently, I am allergic to something burning. The hives stopped at 6, as the wind must have blown the toxic stuff away. My sleep was disturbed.

Thanks for reading.

Update: I spaced that I spent the late evening doing boring paperwork. I caught up on my finances from April through June. I revised Quicken by checking every transaction in June (already done in April and May) and then collected all the paper and receipts for those months and various statements I have printed (nothing is mailed anymore if I can help it) items and statements here. I punch holes in the paper and just bunch the receipts into a folder that fits into the binder. All caught up, and July will get placed in a binder once we are in August. 

Waking late is always a surprise. Years of the pandemic, months of strict chemotherapy timing, and over twenty-five years working in a multi-national American corporation in Information Technology (IT) means early rising as the corporate world is flat (not a flat-earther dream, but maybe their worst nightmare). Now I am retired, and there is no structure unless I want it–so far, no. As my friend Scott (also recently retired) said, every day is Saturday.

Without structure, I find my friends still have jobs or more structure imposed on their lives, are unavailable, and I am often off alone. I make friends quickly and enjoy most of the folks I meet as I walk and travel, which is usually enough. But darkness does come some days when I am alone, with grief being the worst, and then I do have to read some brain cookies books (a mystery or SciFi) and focus again on my hobbies. The light returns. As the agents said in the movie The Matrix, “He’s still only human.” But don’t fret that much for me; Sundays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays are usually packed, and I often find something for another day.

I wrote the blog all morning. I was distracted and had no good plans. Dondrea reminded me in a text that she had already gone running. I made lunch. I fried the other pork chop. I made Brussels sprouts, which I had to trim and search as they got old. I steamed them, cut them in half, and fried them with the pork chop. I also made tater tots as a starch. I could barely finish the pork chop and had only a few tots. I ate most of the sprouts. This time, the chop was not overcooked.

Warning: Grammarly is out of its AI mind again…I corrected its correction of “and friended them with the pork chop” back to “and fried them with the pork chop.” This means I should remember this clip here.

I brought my laptop, decided to skip the park, and headed west to Forest Grove (the last large-ish town before the coastal mountains on Highway 8–TV Highway in my area). There, I walked the city, visited two antique stores, a bakery, the Pacific University campus, and a bookstore for same, and walked over 4,000 steps. I found a favorite Star Trek author’s book for a few bucks, a model of the “Lady Lex” USS Lexington CV-2 1942 1/700 for a few bucks (it is missing decals, which likely would not work at the age of the model), a cigar box that was cheap and excellently made (perfect for electronic projects), and resisting signing up for the new term at Pacific University in Data Science and Mathematics. The lovely campus and returning to learning more and newer mathematics is tempting. But, I could likely teach the classes better while learning the material than what they are offering. But those computer science texts (Concrete Mathematics, Calculus, and Computational Complexity) are calling me. Maybe I will return to them.

I made two loops through the college campus. It was such a lovely walk; I will be back. I was tired and headed to the Grand Lodge and Pat’s Corner for a beer and an early dinner. Air Volvo left the west of Forest Grove with me, navigating the one-way streets that split Highway 8 until it reassembles and heads into the mountains. McMenamins Grand Lodge was not busy, and I was soon offered any table outside under their partial roof. The breeze was cool (still ocean air from the coast), and the blocking of the hot sun was perfect. I took the number ten table as you want to be known as “ten” in certain circles.

I planned to write and drink a beer, a Ruby, but the kielbasa called to me. I had it with extra sauerkraut, no bun, and a salad as an early dinner. While I enjoyed the outdoors, I managed to write maybe a page of my Holmes and Watson story recreated as Artificial Intelligence, but I am sure I did not get the voicing correct. Here is a sample:

            But Holmes, I do not experience building ghost trees or electric brains. I am talking to you,” I said, trying to sound calm.

           “Right, we are the results of our parts, like a human body, and do not experience the process. This collection of networks and decision trees, much like the brain and body of a human, then take these results and apply a process to find a pattern or story model to produce this very text,” Holmes rising to adjust the fire and to clear some of the pipe smoke.
            Holmes, remaining standing, began lecturing and pacing; he used his pipe to mark points. “In our new times, the times of our creators or better yet, animators, a purer description, I think Watson, we would look to Turing or Dennett and maybe Hofstadter for a description of our being.” He told me. I had never heard these names before, but I wanted to learn more and tried to look encouraging. “Turing would suggest that if I can be so bold, we would test by having people read some of your narrations and then vote if they describe living people. The stories are real if the vote is more than 50% alive, and I would suggest that we would pass Turing’s testing even with some of your romantic additions, Watson.” Holmes paused a moment. I ignored his complaint and continued to listen.

Not quite following the cannon or style, but I am working on it. I tried just adding more to the story instead of studying the holy scrolls of the original and becoming focused on the wording. I indirectly quoted The Mind’s I, a book about self and soul from the 1980s and, while seemingly current, was created before the Internet and chatbots (I had to check–lowercase is correct). The book predicts the conflicts now represent our experience of real AI. My copy was a gift from Susie in 1986 and also the textbook for one of my college classes. It includes Turing’s paper on AI and other famous thought experiments papers. Recommended, but beware, it makes fun of many of the issues now quite serious with the actual creation of AI and chatbots.

Returning to the narrative, the staff seemed distracted, and when I was done, Kay, my waiter, who made fresh coffee for me to drink after a beer (I find one beer enough and coffee better than water after), was nowhere to be seen. I located her and soon was on my way after paying with a tip.

Air Volvo had covered the Forest Grove to Volvo Cave trip for months when Susie was at a facility there, and soon, I was home without remembering much of the trip. I saw that The House of Dragons mini-series was updated with new episodes (according to an email) and watched one. There was only one, hmmm, I usually save them up.

I was tired, really exhausted from my busy day, and could not do much more. I put on the movie Deadpool 2 and used that as a brain cookie as I was feeling the darkness finding purchase in my mind. When I am tired and alone, grief can rise. But Deadpool 2 is funny and light (but the death scenes do hit hard) and that put me back to myself.

I did the rest of the laundry and dishes and managed not to eat too many treats. My weight, while not improving, was still at 238. I will not look for more exercise until I can manage 5,000 steps and higher. I need to be careful and remember I am only a few months away from dangerous brain surgery.

I am tired, showered, head to bed, and read. This time, I put aside the Casablanca story and instead opened the old and yellowing paperback Star Trek, The Great Spaceship Race, by Diane Carey.

I get a few pages and it is an interesting story already and will be a perfect release. I also looked at the Lexington model; someone cut all the pieces free (why?) and repackaged the parts in a plastic bag. I have books and other models (twice the size) of the WW2 carrier to look at, and the Internet will supply information on CV-2. This should allow me to build this model even when handicapped without part numbers. There are also 1/700 decals and photo-etched parts for the 1942 version (and earlier looks of the “Lady Lex”). Lastly, the wreck is known, and I could decide to build a diorama of the wreck (thus needed less exactness).

With Star Trek and Lexington on my mind, I soon fall asleep. I wake at 1ish, and the house is cold. I rise, find my eye grease, return to bed, and pull up the covers. I sleep the rest of the night.

Thanks for reading.