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Sunday started with me rising about 7 and getting coffee. I try to start my day with a text and a call to Deborah, even when we are three time zones away. I had to be in church early to provide information on the refresh of the entrance way, fireside room, and little kitchen. I still had plenty of time to talk to Deborah and write the blog.

Coffee was prepared beforehand and was ready when I got up. I was surprised that I could find 1,300 words to describe a relatively quiet Saturday without an aside or other commentary. Still, it was nice to write without feeling any pressure, other than the need to finish within a few hours.

I had returned to my SciFi story, and I was feeling more relaxed while writing the blog. For me, writing is a muscle, and when I don’t write stories, I seem to start feeling anxious and lose some of the pleasure of just telling stories. Writing the blog begins to turn into work. Once I return to some Fantasy, Horror, or SciFi, I seem to unwind and can write the blog as if I were telling a story in front of a campfire with friends.

I have finished another one-third of a chapter in my Fantasy book. I am not sure it will ever be finished, let alone published, but it is fun to create a Fantasy setting, and the tool Scrivener is helping. It is slow going as I want every sentence to be good.

There were a few clouds in the sky, but no rain in the forecast, and it would be another 50°F to 80°F day. I shower, and all that, and dress in a dress shirt, a Pride tie, a green sweater vest, blue slacks, and a straw hat. While Oregon is a come-as-you-are style place, and our pastor often wears Hawaiian shirts, shorts, and sandals, I go the other way and try to look neat and well turned out.

I have D&D stuff already in Air VW the Gray with my now fourth-level sorcerer, Carter. The character is named after the famous magician here. I also took the color copies of the image of the update to the church. I stopped by Donut Day for some donut holes to share while I stood there. I get a few customers before church and collected some feedback.

I ushered, and MichaelR gave the sermon, which was about Paul and his message of hope. Paul is often quoted out of context instead of Jesus to justify an intolerant and elitist version of Christianity. As many people point out, the Sermon on the Mount is not what conservative Christians demand to be posted in courts and school rooms. MichaelR is trying to point out that Paul says that Jesus and Christianity bring hope, especially in difficult times. Often, Paul’s passages are used to justify that Christianity is the only valid hope and as justification for the terrible things done in wars of conquest and purges for social purity. And while MichaelR did a great job showing the hope the words can bring, I still see them splattered with the blood and ashes of the innocent, though taken out of context and mistranslated (another reason I studied some Greek). I will try to find hope and reconsider these passages; I want to reclaim them from the evil men and women who have misused them.

I helped finish up the service by assisting with putting the offering away and chatting with a few people. I headed off to lunch and decided that the Beaverton Carts would work for me at Beaverton Central. Jumbalya with a beer was my choice for a hot day. This version, with suggestions for places to eat in New Orleans for my next trip from the preyeror, including Brigtsens, was spicy, red, and sharp. The sausage was excellent, and the shrimp were cleaned and small. I still prefer my version, which is more brown, but the red version had bright flavors and was good.

I returned home, and with the church stuff, beer, food, and hot sun, I was soon asleep. I managed to remove my shoes and ties before closing my eyes, and I discovered it was a few hours later when I opened my eyes again. I had read some more Assyrian history from my new book; I have finished the 30+ page introduction.

I rise and find my way again. I have an hour before D&D at M@’s place. I cut roses for M@’s wife, Niki, who just had a birthday. My roses are enjoying the late summer, and I have many blooms of different scents and colors to combine. The cut flowers are all carefully wrapped in many sheets of paper towels, as my roses have the most wicked thorns.

Our usual group met at M@’s, some of us having played together for over twenty years, and we managed to play out the fight of a big battle, thereby driving off some of the bad guys once we had defeated the main villain. In our story, we supplied maps and details of the area to the various not-that-evil cults to help reduce the truly evil one; we may return (at a higher level) and see if we can help more. We returned to the Infinite Staircase to discover that one of our players’ patrons is the spirit of the stairs. We start at the next doorway for the next challenge. It was a good night.

I returned home and soon was curled up with Assyrian History and the Player’s Handbook.

 

 

 

 

Saturday was often board gaming-heavy, with me playing two or three games before getting to Richards to likely learn and play some new super Euro-style board game. Today, I did not touch a meeple, pick a card, or arrange resources all day. It felt strange.

Richard, like many folks, was busy on some trip for the summer. Kathleen, another gaming friend, had returned from a trip but was still busy untangling her return with lawn work and other mundane tasks. Later in the day, while drinking a beer and writing at The 649, I saw a group of people so young they could be my kids playing Mothership. I was envious that they got to try out the new, low-complexity sci-fi horror role-playing game. They were a happy, clean-cut group, not what I had imagined as players for this make-you-cry-or-scream style game. I managed to get lots done on Saturday and spent many hours talking to Deborah on the phone. It was a good day.

Starting with waking too early and getting going before 7. Coffee was assembled, and I pushed the button to make it as it was before 7, my coffee-making time. There were some clouds in the sky, but I could see that the sunrise was in process, and that made me think of Dad Wild. “There are only so many sunrises left. I try to see them all now,” he told me once. And, while I roll over and sleep through sunrise, I wake for most.

With coffee made, I dress, wash my face, comb my hair, and collect my laundry. I strip the sheets from the bed (I miss one) and add that to the collection. Hangers, detergent (poured from a large Costco container into a smaller one for travel), dryer sheets, a laptop, and an iPhone are all assembled. It takes two trips to Air VW the Gray to be prepared, as coffee is poured into a travel cup, and it is best not to balance hot coffee over clothing, laptops, and myself.

The travel time is short, I unload the cargo, and the place is busy. It is a different crowd that I have seen before, but today is Saturday and not a workday when I usually do my laundry. I discover I  am not the only gray-haired person doing laundry for one. I see that older men, each alone, are also doing their wash. I think about them. Will I someday be in some rented space without a laundry machine and have to, with my cane, bring my wash to the mat? They seem happy, clean, dry, and not hungry — maybe that will be okay.

I turn a $20 into quarters, and a man asks me immediately to buy him some food, pointing at a dispensing machine. All the sound and talking seem to stop, and I feel it is more of a test than a request. “I must do my laundry,” I say and walk away, and the sounds start again. Being aggressively panhandled was not something I cared for. I look for the guy later, and he just walked away (apparently, he is not welcome there).

I took four smaller washing machines (I could have done three) for over $3 each. The larger machines are in demand, and I am not interested in running everything together for over $7. It is less than thirty minutes for the washers. I manage to find a cart, supplied by the laundromat, and also score a pair of mid-sized dryers when a mom and her daughter finish with them. Shirts and pants in one machine, and the rest in the other.

An hour of spinning allows me to write the blog. The crowd is a mix of Spanish-speaking people who seem confused by the process and older Americans like me who are here to get’er done. The attendant, an older gal in homemade clothing, steps up and helps them when their washer halts. It is leaking as they have not properly closed it. I finished my shirts early. I like to have them finish drying on hangers, and there were 30 minutes left on my dryer. I got one of the Spanish-speaking families to use the dryer, saving them 50 cents.

I write and wait. I am not focused on writing as the new families seem to tell a story, and I watch. I feel for folks buying soap and drinks priced profitably for the owners, but not cruelly high (soap is a buck, and food and drinks are two bucks). I see a family find a nearby grocery and bring drinks. Later, after collecting my remaining clothing, which is now dry, folded, and neatly packed into my basket, I see them eating lunch at the nearby taco cart. They wave, happy to see someone finish.

I take the washing home, finish the blog, shower, and all that. I discovered I missed a sheet (F**k). There are no plans, and I feel at loose ends. I head to The 649. Natalia is bartending, and when she is free, I show her a collection of photos from Iceland on my iPhone. She is enchanted, and Iceland has now moved up on her list (she travels internationally often). My usual beer is not on tap, but she recommends their summer ale; it works. I have the veggie soup with a scoop of chopped chicken added.

I write my Fantasy story in Scrivener. I am disappointed that a few words of text are missing. I will be more careful saving my work. I return to my story, often looking out into space as I write the narrative in my head, which seems to take forever to find its way into the text. This part of the story is a conflict and is hard for me.

Only a thousand words, but the story is moving now. I resolved the conflict in the story, but I am worried that I only made an outline of the conflict. I will have to rework it, I think, to make it more real. I also did not write long, colorful descriptions, and I may need to insert that into the text, as well. Overall, it still seems more stream of consciousness than a story. Still, the bones are there, and just going forward is essential.

I ordered hummus and coffee after two beers and 1,000 words. I add a few more bits to the story and correct a few mangled sentences. Grammarly or I did some damage. Generally, I do not let Grammarly update the SciFi stuff (only letting it suggest minor fixes), as it often reverses the meaning of my work and ruins the paragraph. It seems that Grammarly AI stuff is trained on boring text, and it just removes content if I let it at the SciFi or Fantasy text. Yikes!

I head back across Beaverton after paying the bill and saying goodnight to Natalia. Next, Barnes & Noble was expensive. I buy four magazines, The Economist, and technical electronic and programming stuff, including Make, and a UK-based electronic magazine I enjoy. Make has at least two projects I want to find time to do. Maybe I will find the time. I also find Assyria: The Rise and Fall of the World’s First Empire. I was unaware that a new history book with footnotes and real research existed. While many people trust the Internet for history, I prefer a two-inch-thick book with notes and reviews. I am excited and bought it and, putting aside the SciFi book, started in. I have already learn new things. For example, translations of Assyrian texts are available in specific texts, but all of them are also online and being revised and updated on the online site. Excellent! I check footnotes and translations. I am not mistrustful, I just like to dig deep.

With the sand and dust of Assyria blowing in my mind and names like Sargon and lost Akkad flashing in my memory, I start to sleep to dreams now forgotten. Thanks for reading.

 

Friday was not too hot, and as usual, there was no rain. The clouds burn off by mid-morning, giving us a 50s start and an 80s finish for our summer days. We are now on the other side of summer, and the wasps and other bugs seem to be in a hurry to be ready for the rains and gray that is our winter here in the Greater Portland Area.

I decided that Friday morning would not be laundry day at the local Laundromat at 185th and TV Highway. I spent much of the morning writing and chatting with Deborah, an excellent distraction. As the morning ran on I decided I had stayed in the house enough and I needed to get out. I served myself a banana and 1/2 a pot of liberal Equal Exchange brand coffee. I was bouncing now!

It was still morning, and I took the Air VW to the nearby MAX station, scanned my virtual card, and was soon on my way to Portland. Today’s MAX car had no drama or passengers arguing with themselves. Some folks process by speaking, and you get to hear their struggles with the world. I feel for them.

I read my book and was oblivious. I looked up and a woman had left a large bag on the train. I called to her and she waved and said it was OK. She then, as I have done, popped off the train, scanned her card, and hurried back on. Yes, sometimes I forget too, or I did not scan; you have to check. However, it did cause my survival instincts to kick in. Some of the other folks in the MAX looked concerned when I called it out, and were visibly relieved at the favorable resolution. Nobody likes it when someone leaves a large bag on the train next to you!

I went back to reading. I brought a book I purchased from the author, signed, at the UFO Festival in McMinnville, Oregon. It was the thinnest of the ones I bought and had larger print too. Yes!

The writing is bright and friendly about a slightly corrupt younger woman living in Paris, selling antiques that are of questionable provenance (or simply looted). It is written in the first person, and the woman describes her clientele as wealthy, enjoying her ability to often get what they want; she admits she is a fence for looted antiquities. I have enjoyed the start, but it has taken a strange direction, and I will see how it works. The writing is fun, if not playful. I have something to learn from this author if the book works for me. More to come.

I got off at the Library stop and met a little boy who told me he was proud to be 2, and I could tell this was a big trip for him with his father. His father, I could tell, was proud of how well his son was handling the MAX. Just wide-eyed and happy.

I saw them disembark and then head towards the library, I think, while I headed towards the Portland Art Museum (PAM), yes, Dear Reader, we call it ‘PAM’ like the name. I walked through the park built over a deep, newish parking garage, and learned that the fountain is dedicated to teachers. It is a wonderful, welcoming dancing fountain for hot days. I also saw that the chessboard was set up, but an orange cone was in place of a missing pawn on the black side.

Passing on chess and saw a pair of men play cornhole, Portland sets these games up for folks many mornings. I headed to the museum and soon was enjoying the French Impressionists. I was happy that the European collection, although modest, was on display upstairs. PAM is undergoing a significant rebuilding process, as are many museums, as they strive to find their future. I am not involved enough in PAM to understand the planning. I just know that many works were in storage for years, which led me to let my membership lapse until last year.

I have decided to return and pay another $80 for another annual membership. I also raided the gift store during a 50% off sale, as it is moving (again). I send a card to Mom Wild every day and need some new ones. I stayed for only an hour or so, enjoying the Impressionists (well, many are more formally Post-Impressionists), and saw my favorite artist, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec’s sketch. He was born a bit more than 100 years before me, but I always imagine drinking with him and living a bohemian lifestyle in late-1800s Paris. Much like a Woody Alan movie, Midnight in Paris.

PAM, never having the money for oils, focused on paper and has an excellent collection of sketches and prints. Monet’s practice sketch of sailboats was on display, too. PAM’s collection of Japanese prints and comic books is impressive (and yes, they have The Wave).

I did see the dark on dark ox and cart by Van Gogh, which is one of the worst paintings on the walls, likely worth millions. The docent informed me that the painting is an early work, and the dark style hints at the Dutch masters he was trying to copy. Rembrandt’s and others’ dark shadow works. Here. I am happy to gain a better understanding of the work.

Next, I headed back to the center of Portland and then took the Green MAX for a single stop. There I found Grits and Gravy for lunch. I had another breakfast there. The place was busy, and I took a seat at the counter. The food was terrific; I had the so-called small breakfast.

I had no change, and I walked by a man whose clothing and hair suggested he was homeless. He was just standing there. I felt bad that I had nothing to give him; he had not asked for anything. I walked by him again when I realized I had left my at in Grits and Gravy. I nodded to him. Next, while I am waiting for my MAX, he is swearing and yelling profanities and is close to violent. He directs this at folks having breakfast at Grits and Gravy. He calms as folks start to react, reach for phones, and leave. My instincts were right not to interact. Hmmm.

Next, I headed again on the Green MAX under a free transfer to the mostly defunct Chinatown. There, I tried The Society Hotel and scored a $5 margarita and a seat in their roof garden. Excellent! A new place. Sadly, there was a party at 2ish, and I had to give up my shady seat, but I was finishing my drink.

My membership at the Chinese Garden had run out. I re-upped it (remembering to keep the recipe) and walked the peaceful garden and pond. It was sunny and hot now, and the dragonflies were cutting paths in the air just above the water. One sat long enough for a portrait to be taken!

The Koa were swimming here and their. There was music; an erhu was being played by the pond. It was so peaceful (except for the loud train whistles that are non-stop in Portland).

Calm and relaxed, I found my way back to the Red MAX that would take me back to my local MAX station and read on the train. It was not yet busy as it was still mid-afternoon. I soon returned home.

There, I managed to get my old gas grill working again. Only a few burners are working. I grill some chicken thighs (skinless and without bones). I make couscous and wilted beans to go with dinner.  I sliced and cooked mushrooms to go with the beans. I pour a jar of North African-style couscous sauce into a pan and heat it. It was a bright and happy meal for a bright day. Corwin later drops by and finishes the leftovers.

It is nearing 11 after Corwin leaves, and I crawl into bed after the dishes are started in the dishwasher. Laundry is planned for Saturday morning. Thanks for reading!

 

 

 

 

I was up early before 6 this morning. I could not roll over and go back to sleep this time. I turned on the coffee that I remembered to assemble the night before. I took my morning meds as I waited for my Oregon-made bagel from The Market of Choice in Reed’s Crossing. I was surprised that they sell authentic boiled bagels; this is my first bagel I have found in Oregon (others are bagel-like bread products). I discovered that my previous overpurchase of cream cheese (from Costco) enabled me to have the bagel split, toasted, and spread with cream cheese from a block. It was a good start to Thursday morning.

ScottW was out of town, so I had no plans for the day. I started my morning by texting and then chatting with Deborah, who resides in the Eastern Time Zone and was already up for hours. We like to start and end our days together, even when we are on different sides of the USA. I invested the morning in writing the blog, getting dressed (and all that), and writing a card to Mom Wild. I try to get a card out to Mom Wild every day.

I had my own beef stew for three meals, and decided that was not happening for this lunch. I headed to Beaverton’s Powell store, and although not the City of Books in Portland, a whole city block, the store is well-organized and is an excellent mix of used and new books. There I find, for almost too much money, a Core Rulebook of Pathfinders, the original version. This is the version Sean is using. It is nearly two inches thick, printed in color, and has annoyingly small print. It is a reworking of Dungeons & Dragons 3.0/3.5 (which was from 2000-2008) and was released in 2009. I have played all versions except 2.0. I liked the 4.0 version, one of the few, and the newish version 5.0, and I am trying to enjoy the 2024 version. The rework in Pathfinders is not known to me. I decided it would be good to have a book.

With the book (heavy), I headed to Pastini for lunch. This is a chain, but the Beaverton seems to often serve food a step above the usual Italian-style chain. I had a glass of wine for too much money, and had I not added garlic bread to my pasta and salad lunch, the wine would have been as much as my whole lunch. Yikes, and I ordered the house wine. I was the only one in the whole place ordering wine. Next time, iced tea!

I enjoyed lunch while spending time ordering new pants (sadly, not in a new, smaller size) from Lands’ End. I had noted some wear on my pants, and one pair of gray pants had gone missing. Time to get some new ones. I was holding off to see if my size would change. Not yet.

Lands’ End was having a 40% off web sale, and I was happy to pay less than last time. The pants, unfinished, will all have to be cuffed here in Beaverton when they appear. My usual process. I buy my shirts from LL Bean, as my past experience has shown that they last longer than Lands’ End shirts.

There were spare tables, so I didn’t mind being invested for some time at Pastini, but I needed to be home for the repair person for The Machine, which was now leaking water when running. Ugh! The repair had broken or loosened something.

I returned to the Doc Savage novel (if 148 pages can be called that) #9, The Mystic Mullan, and was nearing the ending. The storyline was confusing and shifted to the USSR of the 1930s, where Doc Savage and his team were captured by the Soviets as spies and had to escape from a Soviet prison. I do like some of the base story and the betrayals and unexpected allies. I think elements of the story would make a good Dungeons & Dragons adventure. More to follow. I have one more Doc Savage I bought in Michigan, which I have not read before, at least I have no memory of it. The Doc Savage paperbacks, reprints from the 1970s, have distinctive covers that I still recall after thirty years, and I will see if this one is better.

The repairman came, and in his broken English (I believe he is Ukrainian), took apart The Machine and partially reassembled it. He then ran tests, and the machine leaked. A hose was punctured. He will order a replacement and thought it was installed in error by the warranty work. He apologized for not finishing the repair, and that I still have no laundry to use. Next week we will try again.

You often do not control the journey life takes you. It is all you can do to control your own reactions. I was supportive with only the goal of getting The Machine working again. It will be next week. I did not want a deep understanding of The Machine and its parts. I now have a good sense of it and how to repair it.

Disappointed that I could not do laundry, which was accumulating (I had decided Saturday morning was laundry day at the local laundry mat), I had a free afternoon. I took my Doc Savage book and boarded Air VW, the Gray, and headed to River Coffee, where I had coffee and read more. I checked, and the new Fantastic Four movie (rated a muddled 80% on Rotten Tomatoes) was nearly empty for the 4:10 showing (Regal charges full price after 4, and this was the more expensive 3-D version). I called and nobody was available, and I headed to Regal by myself.

I got a Megan 2.0 tin popcorn holder (they could not get anyone to buy them) and a glass of water (free), and joined a few people for the movie. While I liked the film, I think the Fantastic Four, Silver Surfer, and Galactus are complex subjects that are nearly impossible to get me to dispel disbelief and become immersed in the movie. However, this movie did a great job of it, and I liked the mix of 1950s and sci-fi technology. I also noticed, as mentioned at the start, that this was Earth 828 and not our Earth (or part of the already explored Marvel multiverse). This allows for a narrow focus on the Fantastic Four. The usual bad guy, Doom, was not included in this story (except for a brief flash), and I think it was a wise decision not to add to the already crowded storyline. They already have a Doom movie planned to follow. Overall, a good Marvel movie, not great, but good, and I suspect the next one will improve on this storyline.

I never got dinner, other than lots of popcorn, and returned home. I finished the Doc Savage and chatted with Deborah as it was an early movie. We enjoy finishing her day taking. I did the dishes, assembled the liberal coffee, Fair Trade certified, for Friday, and put out the trash (the day for trash pickup after twenty-eight years is changing to Thursday next week).

I soon nodded off, woke, took my pills, put on my PJs, and crawled into bed. I soon was dreaming forgotten dreams. I suspect I dreamed of Deborah and me dancing and swimming in Iceland while dodging bad guys trying to overcharge me for dinner with Doc Savage directing us to safety.

Thanks for reading.

 

 

Although it has been a while since I was in Iceland, I still feel tired at night and wake up too early. I was up around 7 and made coffee. I had forgotten to assemble it the night before. I had a banana to go with the coffee. Today I had only one item on, the repair person was coming to fix The Machine. It has a broken spin detector part, and the repair person had not brought that part before my trip to Iceland. Now, I had hoped to use The Machine again after the repair.

(Spoiler: the part was fixed, but now it leaks! F**k! The repair person returns on Thursday afternoon).

I spent the morning writing the blog and showered. When it was near noon, I called the Fix-It number and learned, after three hang-ups, that the repair person would arrive between 2 and 5PM. I was disappointed, but I was happy that I was still on the schedule.

We had played Pathfinders on Monday, and I was thinking a used, cheap version of one of the Core Rules might still be for sale at the local gaming store, Guardian Games Aloha. I headed to the gaming store and was disappointed to find that someone had already snagged it. But I did spot a board game in their gently used section for under thirty bucks that I liked, Euphoria. I bought the copy (and was happy to see it in good condition and all the bits in plastic bags). This is from the same publisher and designer as Scythe and was created before the breakout success of Scythe and Wingspan. I played it with Clint during the holidays last year on my trip to New Hampshire and liked the game. It seemed well-balanced, and while appearing complex, the play was quick to learn (I learned this is the older version–I did not know there was an update–I will see what I can do).

I returned home and reheated some beef stew I had made the day before in the microwave. With the pot chilled in the fridge, I could skim off the fat, which improved the product. I enjoyed a bowl while waiting for the repair person. I decided, with it being the 50th anniversary of the release of Jaws, to watch it again. I saw that they had a new version with higher resolution; another way to sell Jaws again (no surprise). But, for now, it was free for me. I had to stop the show a few times, as the underwater scenes still scare me.

About three-quarters of the way through the movie, the repair person showed up, and it was the same guy. He took apart The Machine, replaced the tiny part, and then ran a towel to test it. After he left, water spilled onto the floor from The Machine and into the drawer below. F**k, he had either broken or not sealed something. Ugh! I called, and he will reappear on Thursday afternoon. I have enough clothing for Friday.

Disappointed, I watched the show’s ending. I noticed that the shots of the shark are short and show little. I recall the first time I saw an artificial shark, how realistic it appeared, and how it seemed to be on the screen forever. Now it looks less real, but still as scary, but only briefly on the screen.

Dinner was more stew. I read some Doc Savage pulp fiction from the 1930s, something I read in middle school. I was never a comic book guy; instead, I read The Shadow, Fu Manchu, and Doc Savage novels from the 1920s-1930s. It was interesting to see what I remembered from a book I read thirty years ago; I was surprised by how much of the story I still recalled. This story, #9, The Mystic Mullan, drags a bit (which I recall), but it has some interesting ideas. I now, and then too, notice the racism, but I like the story and its focus on science rather than superpowers. I remember daydreaming of being the sixth assistant to Doc Savage.

Dondrea let me know it was too hot, 94°F (34°C), to have choir. There were no games on Wednesday night.

I also read more of the new Dungeons & Dragons rules for the 2024 version and discovered that the magic items have been rewritten as well. I was surprised by the number of uninteresting magic items; additionally, many items from older versions have been downgraded, and some no longer combine powers. It is all interesting to me. I understand the reasoning that the game needs to be cleaner and more flexible, and I will miss a sword that creates light and is +1, but that is the rules (the need for magical weapons to do damage to certain creatures has been dropped in these new rules; more things for me to learn).

I am tired at night. Instead of writing or doing hobby work at 9, sunset, or so, I am now headed to bed. I woke at 11ish, took my pills, put on my PJs, and climbed under the covers. I slept and dreamed forgotten dreams, but I suspect it was Doc Savage and his assistance meeting Deborah and me in Iceland to stop the evil (now-totally not racist) causing lava eruptions. Sad, we could not save the Blue Lagoon. Or something like that.

Thanks for reading.