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I was surprised to wake at 8, as I usually wake with the sunrise and then roll over, but rise at 7. This time, I woke late. I went to bed late two days in a row—I needed the sleep. I found the kitchen after I put on my slippers–it had not moved. I found a banana and made locally roasted and ground coffee from Kenya that I had purchased in Hillsboro. I read the news, mostly political, and downloaded my transactions for my accounts. My AMEX is still getting used here and there; I am trying to change everything to my Alaska Air Miles card to insulate my bank card and earn the miles. I watch everything involving money with care.

Every account is protected with two-factor authentication, meaning a hacker/thief would require my user ID, password, and email or phone control to gain access to my assets. While there is some exciting phishing stuff now that is easy to slip into, the two-factor process halts all as it requires me to read the code to them (or physically have my phone or access to my email account at Apple), and that is not happening. And, as I learned a few times, there are source-of-fund requirements to move money, and hackers would find it difficult to move the money (as I have learned) without calls to various institutions and providing letters, bank statements, and other reassuring documents. I am as safe as I can make it.

I write the blog, and it takes a while to cover a busy Sunday. I am not done until late morning. I clean up and dress. I slice up some chicken breasts I grilled yesterday, add rice and teriyaki sauce, and microwave them. That is my lunch, and I cannot finish it. I located the quilt made from Susie’s t-shirts, addressed it to Leta (Susie’s mother), and took it to the post office. I also tried on some size 40 paints, and they fit better than my current 42 pants. I bought them years ago, and my weight was out of control, and they were too small. I kept them with the hope that I would get this under control. It has been a long time, but now they are usable. I put them in Air Volvo with the other package. There was a short line at the post office, and soon, the quilt was headed to Michigan. The dry cleaners will have the pants shortened (I purchased them unfinished) by Monday.

Today would have been my return to work day after my brain surgery. This is the 9th Monday since my brain surgery to remove the tumor. It is also the 13th Monday since being laid off by Nike, Inc. It seems a long time ago that I was in the ICU recovering from the surgery, and even further away, I was in Michigan with John Nilsen for another celebration of life for Susie. But it has only been eight weeks, and the layoff was just ninety days ago–so strange.

Returning to the story, I head to Big River Coffee and spend a few hours reading the Annotated Sherlock Holmes (the older and cheaper version) and marking interesting text with Post-It arrows. While I read and learn, I daydream of certain plot lines and puzzles for my own Holmes and Watson stories. To elaborate, after learning that Holmes and Watson had moved into the public domain, I started a new direction in short stories with a modern Artificial Intelligence story with Holmes and Watson. So far, I have only 1300+ words.

Before expanding my story, I felt I needed to get more familiar with the setting and the cadence of Holmes’ and Watson’s speech and writing (both characters write and tell stories in the original). I am in the first story, following the chronological order and not the usual order of following the original publication process: “The Adventure of the Gloria Scott” (1893). This short story shows Doyle’s skill in putting together a good Sherlock story with a cipher for a young Holmes to solve and other tricks of what hackers would call social engineering. An excellent one to start my learning and align with the original–I recommend it.

After a few hours of reading, thinking, and daydreaming (and a side task researching American Clipper ship model building after the clippers are mentioned quite a few times as the story is set in 1845, the heyday of clippers), I also learned that the story, as told by Holmes, is set in 1845, not 1855 which Holmes uses, as that would not fit the facts in the story—this is covered in quite some detail in the annotation. The story was told in 1887 in Sherlock and Watson’s timeline, and it may be a perfect time for my stories. I leave about 3:30 as my head is full of ideas.

Aside: Clippers were replaced by the last of the sailing ships, the windjammers. Windjammers were metal monster sailing ships (forcing or jamming the wind). The famous and only surviving clipper, Cutty Sark, is a transitional ship from clippers and windjammers with its metal, cement, and wood construction. In turn, the windjammers, who appeared as steam also appear, were soon forced out of service once steamships with the new technology stabilized. However, they were fast and huge and are what most folks think of when thinking of a sailing or tall ship now. A few later-built windjammers survive in Germany as museum ships. The wreck on Oregon beach, Peter Iredale, is a windjammer.

I return home and read for a while, changing to a dress shirt and my green sweater vest for dinner with Dondrea and Z in Portland. Then, some of my XIAO additional microcontroller parts arrive. This round watch-like display for XIAO includes a traditional LiPo plug battery connection, a clock battery, and various useful items, including an off/on switch. I like it. The rest of my orders just left China (I had to translate the trace into English). I will return to this project soon.

I headed to Dondrea’s house, facing only moderate traffic. I was slightly early, and we chatted for a while. Next, we boarded Air Volvo, and Dondrea, from the co-pilot/first-class seat, gave me directions to use the back roads for half of the trip. Z was napping in biz-class one row back. We arrived without issues in the Pearl District in Portland and parked in the Whole Foods garage. We headed to Powell’s and explored. I always check out the cookbook section and find one I like, but I do not like enough to invest in it; books are more of an investment at these prices. And climbed to the third floor and found the Artificial Intelligence section. There are new AI books,  and are priced at over $70; I did not find any that a good free online course would not cover the same material. I see that the AI deep learning has a lot of books now (same comment).

We reassembled and headed to dinner. But where? Our defaults were Deschutes Brewery or Screen Door. We walked up the streets and soon found over priced places were closed on Monday. We found The Star Portland and agreed on Pizza. We got a table and soon were waiting. Monday is not a great day to try out a food joint and the service was painfully slow.

We finally got our first appetizer, three meatballs. Dondrea raved about them, and we all loved them. The sauce was not overly sweet, and the meat was properly spiced and mixed—which was good, as the pizza we ordered had meatballs! Next, we got, again after a long wait, cheezy bread, a wonderful dill-based ranch, and more excellent tomato sauces served with it. That all but disappeared into us as now we were hungry.

Then, the deep-dish pizza appears. It is an amazing pie, and most of it disappeared inside of us. Dondrea and I regret every delicious bite, but we cannot stop. Dondrea is thinking about a five-mile run to remove the impact of pizza. I cannot imagine what I will have to do. It is the first pizza for me in months. Only two slices make it to a box.

Despite the slowness caused by the understaffing, the food was wonderful and recommended. Don’t come on an off-night (like Monday) and expect fast service, but the wait is worth it. We enjoyed it and soon headed out, later than we expected. We found the car in the parking garage, and I paid $8 for parking (!?). Air Volvo dropped Donrea and Z off at their house, and I arrived at the Volvo Cave without issue.

I did the accumulating dishes, read more, showered, climbed into bed, read even more, nodded off, woke after midnight, padded to the kitchen, found my eye grease, and slept well until waking late on Tuesday.

Thanks for reading!

 

Sunday began with me rising early. I had gone to bed late, and the early morning was not welcome. I woke at sunrise, rolled over, and started my Sunday just after 7. I grabbed my slippers and then padded to the kitchen. It was a gray morning with thunder rumbling from the south. There was no smoke, and the air smelled of ozone and storms.

I finished the excellent peaches from a jar that I purchased from a local farm when Linda and I stopped by the farm for a break on our way to the coast. I broke open the jar last week; I had to poke holes in the top as it was so tightly sealed–impressive. The peaches were fresh-tasting and firm.

I enjoyed the peaches with locally roasted and ground coffee from Kenya made in my French Press. I wrote while consuming this small feast. I was time-boxed, I ignored distractions, and I remained focused. I was finished just after 9.

My weight has lowered to 235, which was a surprise. I thought I was looking thinner, and my pants were barely holding on with new holes drilled in my belt. As Dondrea has warned me, the pounds do not come off with beer and drinks. I have started using Big River Coffee instead of the tap houses for writing. Sunday was busy, and I could not fit in a walk, but I managed over 2,000 steps.

I cleaned up and dressed for church in black dress shoes, my nearly not-fitting LL Bean usual pants, grey-blue dress shirt, pride tie, and a blue sweater vest. This was literally topped off with my summer hat. I remembered the large envelope with the letters and checks for over $40K in giving, remembering Dan McLean and Susie. I boarded Air Volvo, which was still dry as the storms somehow missed the house. Beaverton was damp, and lightning was flashing in the sky. I arrived early.

I found myself welcoming various visitors as I stood at the entrance of the sanctuary. We had at least two couples and a few people I did not know. I handed them bulletins, welcomed them, and pointed them to the pews (I would seat them if the service was ongoing), and I saw Dondrea spot them and talk to them, too. Excellent. Since the pandemic, First United Methodist of Beaverton seldom has greeters. I have also noted that most older members come late or at the last minute. We are not an early church!

The pastor, Ken, was begging for some coffee, which finally arrived just before the service began. The previous Sunday’s crisis of having no filters continued into this Sunday. The missing critical item was apparently acquired, but this delayed the production of “Methodist Mud.” Later, I saw that the current pulpit had no secret shelf for water (or coffee), and Ken had to set the coffee on the angled surface. There were no mishaps. We will have to put a cup holder in the pulpit!

With the countdown for Internet access, the service started with Crystal playing on the organ. The songs we sang were familiar, and the Praise Band (there is no choir in the summer) played familiar songs and had us clapping with the music. Later, the folks strongly sang, “It’s Me, It’s Me, O Lord.”

Now, with coffee, Pastor Ken discussed some events at the church, including another church family and denomination moving in with us (our service will be at 11 to accommodate the other church). He then moved to his sermon, still exploring the book of James with us, reaching the later part of the fourth chapter. This one says it is a sin to say I will do such and such to be successful, but instead, try to find what the Lord wants you to do and then do that. Ken had the congregation say out loud that we arrange our lives to serve God (my words). Ken also points out that James demands that we remember the poor in all things we do.

Aside: I checked the Greek and thought James 4:13 was translated too plainly. I would have gone with something like this (Dondrea suggested the snake oil salesman): “You plan a year to head to various cities to win renown as a snake oil salesman.” James yells a bit louder than our polite words in our translations.

I took Air Volvo home after church, wondering what President Biden’s decision to leave the race and support his vice president for the race would mean. For me, I plan to make lots of chicken. But first, I saw the 185th Market and stopped. When I remember, I buy my fruit and veggies from these folks. I get some excellent Wala Wala onions (meaning I might have to get some onion rings at Burgerville soon), veggies, and fruit. I saw radishes, bought some, and later carved little faces in them (the red skin and white flesh make the eyes and mouths stand out without effort) and took them to Dungeons and Dragons that night. In one game years ago, I carved screaming damned souls’ faces in the radishes for the salad to eat while in an adventure in a version of Hell. Scott requested tomatoes and other veggies in a more interesting salad–I made it Hellish.

I changed from my church clothing and dressed in comfortable clothing; the storms were over, and now it was humid and hot.  I split two pounds of chicken breasts without failure or bleeding (sharpening the knives a week ago has brought many benefits) and soaked them in teriyaki sauce and white wine. I light the grill later. At about 2ish, I cook them on the hot grill. There is just a little sticking that goes away as the heat works to char the connections to the grill. I have a temperature probe and check and ensure everything is done. I also cook too much rice and nearly ruin it with too little water. Somehow I reversed the one cup of rice to two cup of water–I blame the heat. I was able to salvage the rice, and while more than I would want (rice is not good for diabetics), it was good.

I put some more teriyaki sauce and white wine in a non-stick pan, sliced hot chicken, and stir-fried it with the sauce. That was served over rice and was an excellent lunch. I packed the rest of the chicken and most of the rice in glass containers (thanks, Glenda and Gene) and put them in the frig for later meals.

My back was complaining, and my cell was not in my pocket, so all the cooking steps were not counted, but I suspect I did another 1,000 steps of cooking, slicing, and packing. I rested to get my back happy and read. I nodded off, rose, and made a cup of tea to wake up. I boarded Air Volvo with my happy radishes and a late birthday gift for Matt V.

Matt V makes burgers for dinner while we play Dungeons and Dragons 5.0E. I found a small paper identification wheel for Egypt’s ancient Gods and Goddesses at the Portland Art Museum, which was made in Egypt but in English. I wrapped it and gave it as a late birthday gift. Matt V liked it. I try to find unique and usual gaming items for Matt.

The game has us returning to space jamming Dungeons and Dragons, and crossing various universes. Details cannot be covered, but I did use up most of my spell slots and stayed more in the background, blasting from a distance and letting the combat characters deliver much of the punch this time. As a good cleric of light, I can cast the famous D&D fireball spell. We were tossing lots of them.

Being paranoid, we planned our final battle with care and managed to finish it without losing anyone. It was an interesting set of encounters with all of Matt’s props and figures; thanks, Matt.

After that, we finished the adventure, and I headed home. Corwin had a package and found some of the chicken at the house, where he made a few sandwiches. I brought him more chicken and his master key for his truck, which was still at the house. We chatted for a bit, and after 11, I headed home and soon was asleep.

Thanks for reading

Going backward, Air Volvo arrived at the Volvo Cave just before midnight from Portland. I played my usual gaming night at Richard’s house on Saturday. We played Great Western Trail: New Zealand (2023), a recent implementation of the original game now with sheep and set in New Zealand with many improvements. It is considered the best version by many. It is rated the 78th best strategy game on BoardGameGeek’s website, and I recommend it for skilled gamers with a cost of about $60; there are no expensive add-ons, deluxe versions, or part improvements. It comes complete at this price. It does have a large footprint and complex iconography. I like the game (even coming in last against Chris–just above my score–Kathleen–who fought for first place–and Richard–who won) and enjoy playing git. Someday, I will learn enough and put it together to be a threat.

Ross Island in the Greater Portland Area had a serious fire, and tires and old equipment burned. The press speculated that the old tires may have spontaneously caught fire (this is unlikely). The skies were filled with black smoke as Air Volvo took me to Portland from home. Traffic was light.

Great Western Trail: New Zealand is a Euro game with many subsystems and rules. There is some player interaction and limited player interaction. Scoring is done, and it is complex, too, at the end of the game. I knew I was at the bottom, but Kathleen was unsure if she got Richard. There is deck building (your sheep) with limited opportunities to thin your deck (that I wish I had paid to do more often). I would suggest playing with someone who can teach the game to see if you like all the rules and complexity (much of it just flows and is logical).

Going back to earlier on Saturday, I finished the blog before 11 and was soon dressed and ready to get outside. I could smell pine and smoke, and because of my allergies and asthma, I was greatly impacted by bad air, so I was not going to do any walking. I did the usual chores of getting gas at the reduced it-is-after-summer-hikes of $4.19 a gallon (remember there is no sales tax, and there is no additional charge for full-service in Oregon) and getting the car washed (I pay a monthly pass and wash Air Volvo often twice a week). I took a bag of small stuffed animals that Glenda had collected into a bag some years ago when she came out to help me with Susie, yes, that long ago and took the items (including the Intel bunny suit guy, which is a collector’s item–I saw one in the Computer Museum in San Jose California) to Goodwill and gave them away.

I saw I was near the newly renovated Taco Bell and the newish Dollar Store (formally an unneeded Walgreens within a mile of another Walgreens and across from Fred Meyers). Instead of finding an office supply store or heading to Fred Meyers (owned by Krogers for those in the Eastern USA), I tried the Dollar Store—I am retired. I found the Post-it arrow markers, some good pens, and a mailer for all under $5. I saw a man with two boxes of Crunch and Munch as I walked in (I have not thought of that stuff in years), and there were many low-priced household and food snack items. I shall return now that my time is my own and I am living using my investments for the future. A buck an item (or so) is a good price.

Next, I tried going into the rebuilt Taco Bell. If you brought cash, someone would come off the cooking line and take your order. Otherwise, there are touchscreens with full-color pictures of food for you to order from. I ordered a few items as Taco Bell had new spicy chicken items. There was no human interaction as I typed in my name and supplied my Alaska Air Miles Visa for payment.

As I waited for my order, I thought this felt like a fast-food place on a spaceship in a sci-fi setting. All we needed was to get rid of the windows and some low G-moves in the food line. As per the strange queuing process of American fast food, in-house guests wait for the orders from the drive-through. They called out “Michelle” and then corrected the name to “Michael,” which got a laugh from me and the gal who left the line to pack and deliver the bag of Taco Bell goodies. I was asked, surprisingly, with all the technologies, if I had a drink and what size. I replied and was handed a cup. I did my own drink (!?).

The chicken crunchy taco was good and spicy. I am not sure I could make one that good, but it was excellent. The rest of my food was less than good. The cheese was industrial-style and might have been shown a picture of a cow. It was dripping out of the hot food. But the sour cream and the guacamole were good with each in little containers, making me think of SciFi again in low Gs. I ordered a regular crunchy taco supreme and it was the same why-would-you-make-this-so-bad flavor and “meat.”  It is still just as bad as before.

The dining area was remade to be uncolorful, and the chairs were hard with uncomfortable metal backs. Previously, the area was a mix of tables and chairs, uncomfortable still, but it matched the decor with bright colors on the walls and tables, plus many LA-like images that conveyed a message of welcome and that Taco Bell was hip. Now the message is, why not take that to go? I thought Doctor Who or a remake of The Fifth Element movie could use the same setting for a Taco Bell on a distant space station in the far future. Just use them as is–there is no need to add any SciFi updates. Just cover the windows or green screen them to a view of Saturn or like image.

After this, I headed to Big River Coffee, got an Americo with a shot of caramel syrup, and worked on my next writing project. I have the Annotated Sherlock Holmes by William Baring-Gould, which you can find in used bookstores. It has two large volumes for just a few bucks (my copy from Powell’s was the seventeenth reprinting of the 1968 work). There is a newer work, but it runs as high as over $100 for the two or three-volume set. I took Post-it arrows and marked each interesting section of Mr. Baring-Gould’s book.

I have started a short story about Holmes and Watson waking up to current times as an AI-generated chatbot like ChatGPT. I have some ideas, but I want to get the words and sentence structure close to the original, so I am reading and doing homework. I hope to send the completed story to 2600 Magazine as a follow-up to my previous story published about AI and the Turing Test. I was at this until about 3ish.

I returned home, rested a bit, and then made an early dinner of a grilled cheese sandwich (with cheese that came from a more natural process) and some canned peaches (also from a farm I visited). I headed out to Richard’s house at 5.

At the start of my day, I rose about 7 and started on the blog. I had toast with jam and some canned peaches with my locally roasted and ground coffee from Kenya in my French Press. I had four cups (I had to add water for the last cup). It was a strongly caffeinated day!

Thanks for reading.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was asleep early. Thanks for reading.