A few things

Good Morning:

Couple Two or three things:

1.  Computer is on line once again.  I attempted a restore point, which failed and was given the option of choosing 1-22-20 as a restore point and I chose that one and today, I am able to go back to the familiar stuff on my screen.  Yay.  God only knows how long that will last. Husband dragged out the spare computer which I accidentally ordered a ouple years ago, so it is now tucked underneath my desk ready to go if I need it.  Good to have alternatives.

2.  I have temporarily given up driving.  (CRAP!).  My cataracts have ah..ripened to the point that I have difficulty distinguishing pedestrians moving in shadows or in a shadowy crosswalk.  Being terrified of hitting someone, I have asked the lovely man I reside with to please take me to local appointments.  I also have a stand by business card for the local Taxi concern.  If she is still in bidness. Further if it is a paralyzing bright day outside I have to wear my little fake roll up glasses in order to cut down the glare.  

3.  This is probably the year I have cataract surgery.  Annual exam will be June.  I had the option of doring the worse left eye last year but put it off because there was zero chance of any improvement in visual acuity.  Hence the avoidance.  

4.  Navigating about the house is fine.  I can do most of that blindfolded anyway.  I am careful where I put my feet as lap kitty is absolutely convinced that at times I need a kitty ankle bracelet.  

5.  I woke with a snippet of a dream.  I can't quite find the dream site on my screen because the color of the print is very light and I have a very hard time selecting it.  So I will attempt a guess of what the dream actually means.  And my personal interpretation will most likely be more entertaining than the dream site.  

Here goes; I woke from a dream where I was supervising storage of a very large elephant.  The elephant had to be moved to the top of a building next door.  So when I looked outside, I saw that somehow the elephant was indeed on top of the building with it's trunk dangling down the side of the building.  He elephant was wrapped up like a nummy except the end of the trunk was not wrapped up to allow breathing.  I remember thinking, "That is just not right".

Now as for what this may represent.  The elephant is obviously my subconscious take on the current impeachment trial for He Who Thinks Everything Should Go His Way.  Dream seems to fall on the side of the problem being immobilized or put in storage.  The brain works in mysteriour ways.

5.  I must enlist husands editorial skills to check my manusripts prior to posting so that I may avoid looking like three blind mice turned loose on a scrap of parchment.  I remain curiously yours.

Things I wish I had said

Things I wish I had said at my father's funeral:

I must backtrack a bit.  Dad had metastatic CA of the prostate.  He had been diagnosed a good 20 years previous.  As with most progressive diseases this one took a little more from him over time.  I remember one time when I was home visiting that he had commented about a recent bout of illness that his hands had actually shrunken a bit. His hands were no longer as strong as they used to be.  I could tell that this grieved him more than anything else.

He was very philosophical about the end of his life.  He had lived a good life and was determined to enjoy as much of it as possible.

That summer of 1995 most of the siblings had cycled home for a visit.  I didn't make it down until that final phone call.  I had not planned for this as well as I should have.  I booked a ticket for the very next day and asked husband to catch up when he could.  As a matter of fact, I neglected to pack extra underwear and had to borrow a pair of his shorts.

We all gathered up and went to visit him at the Boise Veteran's hospital.  These buildings are magnificent old brick buildings built in the early 20th century.  Dad obtained all of his health care and would not think of entertaining services elsewhere.  All of my siblings and I have sat in the care for several days worth of clinic visits while dad was seen. We were never allowed out of the car.  Oh those squirrels looked like so much fun.  We would have chased them down.  Now that I think of it, I begin to wonder what Mom did whenever we whined about going to the bathroom?

Dad had so many visitors and family that the nurses were a bit astounded.  They very kindly put dad in a two bed unit and put a tag on the other bed that said it was out of service and needed maintenance.  God Bless 'em. 

I walked into the room that first day, he was laying there with his left hand gripping the raised up bed rail. I walked over, leaned over and kissed the back of his hand and sobbed, "I love you, Daddy."  I am pretty sure that all of us kissed the back of his hand. 

He did not rouse for a couple of days, the docs had been keeping him fairly well sedated. They cut back on his meds and he perked up enough to play a little pinochle with us.  We had a good visit.

This went on for about a week.  He did begin to decline and the decision was made to transfer him to VA Hospice.  It was just another building but it was end of life care and the staff did a wonderful job. 

He died late one evening and we began plans for the funeral.  The service itself was to my mind, a bit unsatisfactory.  One of members of the V.F.W. spoke about Brother Berglund's Army service.    Gale read a touching piece and I sat there like a dumb ass, completely bereft of anything to share.

I could have talked about the things he told me that he and his brothers got up to as kids. The time he and a brother snuck a neighbors bull up on top of the farmer's barn.  They had to avoid the Sheriff for a while after wards.

I could have related Dad's tale of when he went walk-about when he was thirteen years old. He rode his bicycle to Ontario, sold it for cash to buy a ticket on a train.  He took the train to Minnesota  and spent the summer working in hay fields. 

After haying season was over he drifted south to New Orleans and was arrested for vagrancy.  The judge kept him at his home for a while.  After that I am a bit fuzzy about his further adventures.  There may have been a freighter to Panama. 

During the  pre-war II years, Dad was very busy working and socializing. The socializing involved driving around with lots of friends and going to dances. There was even a Chickeree.  
That is where the whole gang descended on one of the kids farm house, raided the hen house for five or six birds and had fried up some very fresh chicken.  

I could have told about the time he went AWOL from the Army to go home to visit and do more socializing and dancing.  He had the opportunity to do so when his whole company was transferred from Camp A to Camp B.  Every soldier was responsible for handing over his transfer papers to the the next Sargent.  

Well, this seemed like an ideal opportunity.  Dad offered to pay so much cash to a buddy to shout "Here!" when they called role for Berglund.  By God it worked.  Grandpa B was getting a little suspicious about how long he had been home on leave and asked him when he had to go back. Dad told him he had until the end of the week.  

He got himself to where he was supposed to be in Washington state. Paid his buddy the cash promised. He waited a few days letting the Sargent get to know his face then he said, "Sarge, I completely forgot to turn in my transfer papers.".  Sarge looked him over and probably had his own suspicions.  But the matter was smoothed over. 

Or I could have told about the time he and Uncle Tater took a deer out of season at the Cow Camp.  I am not sure to this day who shot the deer but they hung the carcass in the barn and brought in a large metal dish holding the heart and liver.
  
Tater told us kids that he had killed a porcupine and showed a lodge pole pine just studded with porcupine quills. It was very impressive.  For years afterward until well into my teens, my show and tell at school was, "Do you know how big a porcupine liver is?  It's almost as big as the whole porcupine, I saw it!"  I can only imagine what the mystified teachers must have wondered about that Berglund girl.

There were other adventures that taken in the whole would have made a nice picture show to go see on Saturday night.  "The Adventures of Shorty".  Starring Mickey Rooney.  

On retrospect, I have forgotten to mention a few other things that made him a very good man.  He worked hard all of his life.  I heard him say more than once that "A man can find work if he wants to."  He always did. 

He helped all of us kids as much as he could.  He helped me move a couple of times.  Made sure I got home to California the winter I drove home for Christmas and wrecked the Barracuda on black ice.  Thanks, Dad.  

I wish I had said that at the funeral but I was literally emotionally frozen at the time.  But the memories are sweet.  Love, me.

HOW much was the engagement ring?

A while back a little snippet of news caught my attention.  Oligarch spends One Billion dollars on daughter's wedding.

That is a staggering number.  I Googled it and sure enough, there was an article all about this fabulous wedding.  The gown was by a famous woman designer and was reportedly so heavy the bride had to have help getting into the thing.
Her engagement ring is worth ten million dollars and the size of a ping pong ball.  I looked up various carat values of gems and the most pricey gem is emerald.  Well beyond my budget. 

Entertainment, at least part of it, was provided by Beyoncé.  There were four or five other popular singers etc and I am a baby boomer and am not au courant with famous celebrity names.  

I wonder if any of the Kardashians attended.

The article stated that Daddy was only worth 6.6 billion.  With one billion gone on a huge wedding, I wonder if Papa passed the hat or perhaps there was a well heeled thug standing by the door with a very large crystal bowl filled with cash and various other valuables.  

The wedding cake was nine feet tall!  I don't recall if there was a sit down dinner but at this stratospheric level, I would think it was unavoidable.  Pretty sure the bar was free featuring Crystal champagne, the finest Russian vodka and lots of caviar.  Dinner would have required a full on restaurant, five stars and all. It must have been served  a la Russe which means each diner had an attendant standing in back of them ready to instantly fetch them various dinner items etc. Or escort them to their room to ah..recover.

Let us consider gifts for the ladies and gentleman who stood up during the service.  The service may have been your standard I do's or have been a rather exotic Russian Orthodox church version with chanting priests, boy choirs, the whole shooting match.  Takes stamina to get through a fancy wedding.  Probably had to take a ten minute break to keep folks from collapsing in exhaustion.

So back to costumes etc.  The best man and the other dudes, all ten of them, would have had fitted tuxedoes, everything from the skin out and bespoke shoes.  The ladies would have received lavish gowns, some nice glittering jewelery, hair dressers, seamstresses, make up artists and glorious shoes. 

Housing was provided at the venue, an estimated one thousand suites.  OK, Dad fought an old unfinished Trump hotel.  Transportation provided by private jet and ground transport was nice roomy Rolls Royce saloons. 

A favorite Russian treat is a circus.   There were rumors that the Russian version of Cir Du Soleil was invited to complete with local clowns, bears, trapeze artists and jugglers. 

For those who wished to lose their billions, the casino was open in a vast underground complex that would allow all games of chance with the required lack of exit signs and no clocks.  With the house odds, very few left with plump wallets.

At this point I am legally required to offer a disclaimer, there may have been a slight exaggeration regarding the extend of the money spent on the wedding as well as some of the amenities.  But think about I bet I didn't break a billion.

A billion dollars is a lot of money.  I could think of a whole bucket full of things to purchase...like a small country.  I was also thinking of the money spent on my first wedding.  A girlfriend bought the wedding cake, my mother-in-law made the grooms cake. To this day I wish I had the recipe, it had brown sugar and nuts in and was extremely tasty. My Uncle Carl brought a case of champagne.  Grandma LaVann brought a ton of greenery from her ranch and decorated the VHF hall we had hired.  I think that was fifty bucks  My bouquet came from Helen's yard, daisies I think. Uncle Phil took a thousand pictures. Dad walked me down the aisle. Mom made my wedding dress it consisted of a simple satin sheath with a over dress of lace with long sleeves.  My going away dress was made by Sheri.  She used some fabric Mike had picked up in Thailand. It was a blue raw silk.  It was a lovely little thing. We spent the wedding night at a hotel nearby and went to go see "Patton".  It is the only movie I have ever seen where I knew it was an Academy Award winner.  I forgot the invitations. I think that was less then one hundred bucks and address was wrong and I had to hand write the correction on all of them.  The groom gave the Priest a stipend of twenty-five bucks. The Priest probably thought were were cheapskates.  So I'm thinking we spent about 500 bucks at most.

Second wedding was much simpler.   We paid for a license, made an appointment with the magistrate and got married at the court house about 2 pm.  And that married just turned 25 years old.  Easy peasy. Congrats all around.

SHORT, MEDIUM AND LONG DISTANCE

ROAD TRIPS AND OTHER SUCH ADVENTURES:

Me and my friend Judy Jones would occasionally take a road trip.  We had no idea what the proper term for all that driving around was called.  After all it was the mid 60's, we were driving big assed cars with no seat belts, living the life.

We had short trips to the City.  We loved to go to the zoo, the Golden Gate Park and there was an amusement park near the beach fairly close to the zoo.  This place was popular during WWII.  A place for GI's to date pretty girls, go on the fun house and roller skating.  We did both.   

The fun house was a genuine old fashioned one.  It had a large wooden slide, a flat spinning thing to try not to get spun off and a very large mechanical woman cackling away on the outside to attract customers.  Other times we would go to the roller skating rink.  I was truly awful and picked up plenty of bruises on my bouncy backside.

Of the medium type trips that involved jumping in the car with very limited pocket change and going intil we had half a tank of gas left to get back.  One time, shortly after her little girl was born we took off down the coast and went for an over night wander just to be looking. I don't think we got as far as Hearst Castle.

Another medium trip, two or three of them over a period of time, involved spontaneously driving to Winnemucca, Nevada.  Because that was where her sister's husband was stationed.  That  time I think we had twelve dollars between us for gas.  We were depending on hitting Betty up for gas money to get back.  

The most memorable medium distance trip was one late December, Betty decided she would drive the Bonneville to Winnemucca. She asked a bunch of us to go.  There was her, Judy, me, a girl we called Karacha (because her first name was Judy) and one of her friends. Five women dressed to the nines headed north in a snow storm.  The snow came down so thick that we had to stop ocasionally to wipe the snow off the headlights.  At one point the back seat drivers were saying things like "Go left!".

We finally dragged into Winnemucca very late at night.  We decided to get a very late breakfast at one of the downtown casino's.  There we were walking into one of the darkly lit restaurants, there were several Airmen sitting at the bar.  We apparently stunned them into silence or they thought we were fresh meat for the line.  (Itty bitty houses of pleasure down by the river).  One of the men actually stood up with his hand over his heart.  I think he might have been from Texas.

We got a couple rooms close to the Airbase (radar station actually) and spent the night.  Betty went off to get her husband up early, they had an apartment closer to downtown.

We had a good time at the New Year's Eve party.  I have never danced so much in my entire life well fueled with various mixed drinks.  Judy had a good time helping make drinks behind the bar.  It was one of those all nighter kind of things, I dimly remember going enmasse to the mess for a huge breakfast, I believe steak and eggs were involved.

Judy and  I made long distance cross country trips two or three times.  We borrowed Betty's Pontiac, got a map from Triple A.  Her daughter was a toddler then.  We discovered accidentally that said toddler could grab the keys out of the ignition while the engine was running.  This caused the power steering to stop but the engine kept running.  This occurred somewhere high in the Rocky mountains.

We navigated well until we crossed over into Kentucky headed towards West Virginia.  By then we had deviated from the Triple A map.  It was somewhere on top of a mountain that had three roads going down that we stopped for a breather. We was lost.  All alone.  Crickt chirp, chirp, chirp.  

Pretty soon a couple of guys in a pickup stopped to inquire if we needed help.  During a conversation Judy recognized a place the guys could point us to and off we went. We drove by swinging bridges the kind cars actually used to cross creeks.

We got to her parent's place 33 hours after leaving the San Francisco area.  Non stop. We did pull over for a snooze somewhere along side a freeway in Missouri. We slept for about 45 minutes buffeted by the wind of passing semitrailer trucks.  We went to bed when we got there and I slept 13 hours.  The rest of the visit was a blur.

Now the most memorable trip to West Virginia was the one where the entire Jones family and myself decided to take a plane.  There was Judy and her little girl, Betty and her little girl, a dog, myself and luggage the likes of which made us resemble the Gabor sisters going on tour.

Betty had extra baggage for her daughter, her dog and her wig. In the sixties it was very popular to wear whole wigs or piece of wigs.  These wigs were kept on Styrofoam heads when not being worn. This was also how the were taken to the beauty shop to be styled in fancy well lacquered curls. Betty had one suitcase reserved just for her wig.

We flew jets pretty straight to Kentucky where  we changed to a much smaller cargo configured WWII era plane.  The plane flew low through clouds and the fog rolled down the center of the aisle, a very strange sensation. Our stewardess was a lovely young lady with a British accent. She handed out sandwiches and drinks. 

West Virginia is known as the Mountain State and there are no flat places to land planes unless they shave off a couple mountain tops to make an airport.  Same thing goes for a drive-in theater where Judy burned out a clutch. So , there we were, the five of us.  The luggage and dog had to come on the next flight.

I had a very good time.  I discovered fire flies.  They looked EXACTLY like the fire flies seen during the Pirates of the Caribnean ride at Disneyland.  Amazing.  

I saw some amazing things.  We visited friends and relatives.  One place had several roosters in individual pens.  Turned out they were kept that way for highly illegal cockfighting.  I also went with Judy to pick up a jug of moonshine from a stump to being back to a neighbor in California.  There were rumors that this batch was occasionally cut with bleach.  I never tasted any of it,  I didn't want to go blind.

I was shown the local car wash.  It was not the kind where you put in quarters and soap comes out.  This was the natural kind that consisted of a very handy waterfall to drive through once you had the car all soaped up.  

Also shortly after a rain shower we washed our hair utilizing the rain barrel that filled up from the gutters of the house. 

I met one of Judy's school friends.  This family was considered upper middle class. They lived in a spiffy double wide trailer.  They switched out wardrobes on Labor Day and covered their furniture in plastic upholstery.

I also learned there was a lot of casual discrimination.  The black folks used the bowling alley on during the week, the whites had  the weekends.  Same arrangement for the drive-in movies. The stores had separate area for common supply items that black people most often purchased.  

I was randomly picking up odd items that I had never seen before and asked Judy what these were?  She collapsed in laughter and hustled me out of there because what ever I was fingering was some sort of black hair processing equipment. 

One of the last trips to and from West Virginia involved taking her Mom and her brother Clyde back with us to California.  We were doing well until we got to New Mexico. It was summer, it was hot.  We stopped for gas and the attendant warned us that the tires looked bad. We ignored that advice and stopped at a rest stop east of Rosewell, New Mexico for the night.  That was purely miserable. 

The next morning we got up and three tires had gone flat.  We stood around a little bit what us gonna do!? Judy asked  a trucker to ask a garage to come to us.  Eventually a guy from a garage showed up and changed out tires and got us back on the road.  We got home to Judy's apartment.  I got in my own car to leave the next day and the last tire on the Pontiac had gone flat.  Good times.

Writing challenge

A friend of mine is a writer.  She did not start out that way.  I first heard about her in Barrow.  She was the optometrist's main squeeze.  Everyone knew Grant was dating a beautiful blond bombshell.

When next we actually met was  a decade or so later in Dillingham.  She was a stay at home mom with two gorgeous girls. The husband was located at the hospital there while I was working in the medical record  department.  

Over the course of a year and multiple yard sales,  Boone shared that she was trying her hand ar writing. I read a rough draft of one of her stories. It had a nifty twist where the bad guy was struck a lightning bolt that hit a church steeple.  

It was not too long after I returned to Coquille that she began successfully writing as Boone Brux.  She wrote about a soccer mom reaper.  Which if you think about it is quite a combination.

So when I had a very short dream, I thought of Boone and how this topic would be a writing challenge amongst herself and her favorite lady authors.

Here is my little snippet of a dream.

I saw a girl with her back turned to me. She was wearing raggedy cut off jeans, a shirt tied above her waist.  She wore a belt made of dollar sized gold coins.  That is the sum total of my snippet of dream.

Here is the challenge.  I want a story from you and your cohorts consisting of 85 to 90 pages.  Tell me the story about the Girl Wearing A Gold Belt.  Any genre, any time, place or universe.  

How did she get there?  Are there aliens, dinosaurs, cowboys or rocket ships involved ?  Has she figured out the meaning of life?  

I do wish I were an editor for a posh magazine. I would give this writing project to a favorite group of writers to go into an anthology.  Okay, ladies go have a cuppa and hit the keyboard.  Can't wait to read this!

Give me your huddled masses....

I have not seen many homeless people in my little town here.  I have seen a lady sitting on a step one morning busily spooning her breakfast from a soup can. I just happened to have come from the hospital and picked up a muffin.  I handed it to her and said, "Try this."

I do know that we have some homeless teenagers who attend a local church school.  The homeless always seem to be among us.

According to a recent NPR report there are about 130,000 homeless in California at any one time AND that constitutes HALF of all of the homeless in the USA.  Why do I think this number is under reported?'

I think it is pretty tough to keep an accurate census of a fairly fluid population.  The homeless like warm places.  Freezing to death in the winter happens if some poor out of his mind person hides in a dumpster.

This population consists of drunks, druggies, unemployed, families who cannot afford to pay rent but are working.  Housing consists of tents, cars, vans, RV's none of them in good condition.

There is a used needle problem, there is a garbage problem.There is prostitution/violence problem. There is a mental health problem, there are legal problems, there are businesses and restaurants losing customers who have to run the gauntlet of homeless.  These people need health care. These people need a place to clean up, they need a  place to wash their clothes, they need a place to shop and they need jobs and houses.  We must begin to treat our homeless like an asset.  Eventually the effort will pay off.

I have read that one of the large cities is paying people to police the area, pick up junk.  This should be in conjunction with regular trash pickup by the garbage company.

If a needle exchange is not being done, it should be.  Needle exchanges make sure that if a user trades in a used needle, they get a safe place to inject with a new single use needle.   This may cut down on opioid over dose.  These centers could also have Narcan available.

If daily meals are provided, perhaps the cost of entry could be a bag of trash.  Once the trash is under control, the price of admission could be an empty recycle can or bottle.

I propose that a bank be established.  The clients deposit what money they have and the bank gives them scrip to be spent within the homeless community.  Does not buy liquor or beer.  This may cut down on theft.

In conjunction with finance, the homeless need a physical  address for mailing purposes.  I suggest a satellite post office, contracted out to a local provider.  The homeless should be given priority for jobs in these facilities.

There needs to be mental health and basic health services offered.  Homeless children need to be inoculated.

Housing:  Eugene has started a homeless housing project building something called Conestoga's.  The plot size for each shelter is roughly 8 x 12 feet, window on one end, door on the other.  The building consists of a length of corrugated metal bent over in a half circle.  There is room for a bed.  It remains to be seen how well this works.  One would hope that other amenities are made available such as bathing/ washer dryer etc.

I have wondered why the Japanese capsule hotel concept could not be adapted.  Single very simple capsules, and larger capsules for a couple or a small group of capsules for families.

Storage is a problem.  I saw a program that highlighted a huge warehouse full of 100 gallon locking garbage cans.  This allowed the homeless to store their stuff and not have to drag it around in a stolen shopping cart.  My additional suggestion would to stack these garbage cans on scaffolding to fill up the volume.

These warehouse should be located next to a shelter, preferably a huge warehouse with stacks of people capsules.  Body heat alone would keep the place toasty.  LED lighting would be good.

I would pay the homeless to plant and maintain a garden in empty land conveniently located next to the shelters.  They would make a pepetual stew to feed folks.

In cities that have bus transportation, I would make ticket to ride for the homeless who need to get to jobs.

I would encourage a second hand boutique concern be established to help clothe the homeless.   These stores would have the ability to clean, repair and press garments.  Again these places should give priority to hiring the homeless.

Additionally, I would encourage that the homeless be given a sense of ownership.  Think about selling shares to the homeless member, there would be a cooperative formed with the end goal of the entire enterprise becoming unnecessary.

There needs to be police and a court system within the community.  Again adapt as needed.   Volunteers need for some of these positions but the homeless probably make pretty good cops, lawyers and judges.  

The homeless need to be considered a third world problem and the current third world problems that are being treated successfully need to be adopted in America.

Perhaps Habitat for Humanity has some ideas.   Something to think about.

Freeze it?

A few blogs back I mentioned the history and making of the salad that consists of four ingredients; shredded cheddar cheese, two quartered and sliced bananas, a back of miniature marshmallows, can of pineapple tidbits.
  
It's kind of amusing that we never named the salad.  I have seem similar salads called ambrosia but those involve shredded coconut, maybe some nuts.  So.....the salad will probably remain nameless.

Some of the family don't particularly care for it.  But it was always consumed to the last morsel. 

I have made the salad at least annually for the last 25 odd years.  I enjoy it.  Husband does not eat the salad.  We rarely have guests and the salad sits in the fridge; bananas getting progressively darker and entire thing becoming rather unattractive with a hint of pineapple flavored slime.  Ummy.

This most recent holiday, Christmas to be exact.  I was once again faced with slow consumption of the old family favorite.  I wondered if I could freeze the thing.  So I put the rest of it, a good gallon zip lock bags worth, into the bag, zipped it shut and put it in the freezer.  

A couple week later I dragged the salad out and I wondered what a pain it would be to hack out some frozen salad.  On a whim I got out my favorite slice and dice knife and sliced through the ziplock bag. Well, that worked very well.  I put the remainder inside another bag and restored it to the freezer. 

 I put the slice of salad into a bowl minus the slice of zip lock.  It thawed slightly and it was delicious. I wish I had thought of this several nasty salads worth a long time ago.  Invention is a good thing. Give freezer a chance.  Might work.

Suggested names; The Salad, C.P.M.B. (Sounds Canadian, eh?). Ye Olde Favorite.

I dreamed a dream

Marathon

To dream that you are running in a marathon represents life's journey and how you are performing or feeling. It is symbolic of your endurance and willpower. Consider how you feel about the marathon and how you are approaching it.

Last night, I dreamt that I was watching a marathon and it was a doozy.  But first, how I view life as a marathon.   Years ago, I set a goal of living to the age of 146.  At the rate I am going, I am about halfway through the marathon.  However, with the onset of a few age complications, I may well finish up coasting to the finish line in some sort of preservation coma or device.  I have enough will power to see myself to the end.  I would like to outlive the current presidential mistake long enough to see that history sets that administrative effort aside to a very dusty unvisited presidential library located in FLorida, probably.

Now back to my marathon dream.  In my dream, two Kenyans are booking along at a pace much faster than the usual Olympic lope.  As they flashed by on the road, a barrage of hundreds of arrow flash across the path thudding into targets sounding like a Gatling gun.

I was also driving along in pursuit down a very steep mountain road, at one time looking down a turn off straight down from one curve to the next curve below, the angle was about 60% and looked nearly impossible.

At one point, I was standing on a stretch of newly constructed highway, a couple of my friends had wandered over to peer over the edge.  We were very high up in the air.  I was talking to the chief engineer about it and wondered how we would get down to the ground.  He told me not to worry about and pushed a large red down button and the road descended.  This clearly represents my view on problem solving and I seem to have developed a tendency at this age to rely upon the kindness of strangers.

I began to wonder if indeed, we would not see an evolution of the marathon to include major prizes of up to one million dollars per mile.  Currently, a lot of runners make money running in international races.  Why not inject a little Hollywood meets Paracour?

I suggest hazards for each mile.  How about mile 1 Javelin throw, mile 2 shot put, mile 3 target practice, mile 4, high jump.  Throw in one mile of swimming and biking. A little triathalon or Iron Man.  

Of course there would be sponsors for each runner and another division could be team extreme marathon; 26 runners.  Team America, Get ready, get set, go!!

The Jellical cat

Our cat, Charlie is about five years old now.  He is very friendly. If he could surgically attach himself to my lap, he would do so.  

He does not like human food of any kind, he cannot be tempted to stake out your steak, make a strike and streak off in triumph.  Nope.  He gets pretty high end kitty food. shredded paper kitty litter. Husband takes meticulous care of that duty and monitors the situation three or four times per day. 

Charlie is unbelievably friendly, I have to warn anyone who comes in the house that they will leave with a generous coat of black fur and a kitty leg stropping.

One highly annoying thing with him is that he has cat allergies to something  He sneezes prodigiously and produces an amazing amount of explosive projectile sticky yeuuuuckkkk!!!

The blankets that cover various surfaces as well as people are routinely washed. We discovered that a simple wash in cold water did not do an adequate job.  Hard dried stuff that stuck to the blankies was still there only harder and very difficult to hand pick off the surface.  I suggested we try washing them on hot next time to see if that would work.  Success!  

Charlie gets silly about 8 pm each evening.  He will fly about the rooms frantically meowing for something.  He jumps up on top of the bookcase backing my roll top desk.  

Occasionally I will hear a crooning howl, like a wolf.  He gets extra points for knocking off books.

A couple of winters ago, it had snowed here at 80 odd feet above sea level.  I went to open the back door to see how deep it was.  I saw a good three inches. Charlie zoomed out before I could stop him.  I laughed nastily and said, "Oh, ho, little cat, you are not going to like that!" 

Indeed he stopped in midstride.  If he could have screamed he would have done so.  He carefully high stepped and paw shook back into the house.  Spent the morning indignantly grooming his feet.  

During one of the blankie sweeps husband noted that the TV screen was extraordinarily nasty. (I had been ignoring it to be truthful)  Of course once a thing has been pointed out, it becomes impossible to unsee.  Ugh.  

I dragged out the full arsenal at hand.  Formula 409 not worky.  Gently chipping with fingernail not worky.  Razor blade not worky.  Bleach not worky.  My best dirty look not worky. I

n desperation, I ran the two cup glass measuring cup full of very hot water.  Applied fully soaked wash rag.  It's a miracle.  Instantly melted (guh shudder) and wiped right off.  So cat splatter patrol just got a lot better.

A little garden, long, long ago.

I did not grow a vegetable garden until the year or so I lived at Grandma Lavann's ranch.  

Let me back pedal a bit.  I had returned to work at Fairchild Semiconductor after Charlie was born.  He was being babysat by Judy's Mom, known by the nickname of Paddlefoot (honest to God).  

This worked well for awhile.  One day I went to go pick him up after work and Judy showed me some pictures of Charlie. They were the large fancy kind taken by a photography studio.  They were charming pictures and I thanked her effusivly.  This whole episode scared me, my best friend had taken my son to get pictures without telling me. 
  
I began thinking about becoming a stay at home mom.  I eventually asked one of the senior engineers, Don George.  He was absolutely charming, white hair, knew his business and he had the worst body odor of anyone.  Erk.  This lasted until he unexpectedly remarried and his wife cleaned him up considerably.  He no longer stank and his lab coat was clean. God Bless her.

Don's immediate opinion was that if I were his wife, I would not be working.  At that time I had no particularly feminist leanings.  All of my family or friends of family were wives who worked full time being either housewives or farmwives.  No one got divorced, except my aunt Vivian. Dad's sister. The scandal!!

I pondered things for a bit and decided to quit my job, just like that.  I did not discuss it with the then husband as was my custom. I sold my Barracuda back to Mom and Dad in exchange for a bicycle with a kiddy seat.   Charlie and I peddled to the Safeway across the freeway to go shopping.  

This situation went very well for a while. Then the landlord decided to raise the rent.  I completely panicked. I did not want to go back to work at Fairchild.  So, I asked first husband what he thought of living at the ranch.  He could come up on weekends. Charlie and I would live there. 

To this day I do not remember who brokered the permission between Margaret and us but we moved up one weekend.  We stayed in the spare bedroom.

Eventually, Magaret decided that living with a noisy almost two year old was a bit much so she cooked up a scheme to purchase a used trailerhouse.  One was being advertised in Booneville. 

We went to see the owner. Margaret had told me ahead of time that the cost of the trailer was fifteen hundred dollars.  We went to go visit and I was instructed to keep mum while negotiations ensure. Margeret told me that if things stalled at 1200 which was all she was going to offer, that I was to chime in eagerly to say, "Why I have 300 dollars!"  The deal was struck.

Margaret made arrangements with a friend to haul the trailer to the ranch where he parked it below the house in back of a couple of fig trees.  A few weeks later she had a hole dug for a septic tank and that was installed and the trailer was hooked up.

A family friend named, Sam, was a retired electrician. He ran a power line to the wash house and explained that he could not legally hook the wires up but he left very careful directions on how to do it.  He also wired the wash house for the washer and dryer. We were almost in business.

We lived happily for quite some time. I lived there long enough to appreciate the seasonal changes; Grandma standing in the barnyard and bellowing " Come sheep!" and by God they came trotting in from afar to nibble on a scant handful of hay.  Also got to help out with the shearing, helped deliver a dead lamb, help finish stuffing a 20 foot tall bag of wool which we then hauled to the auction barn next valley over. 

I went to the County Fair, they were having a sheep dog contest. The best one was a three legged dog who very speedily herded the six or so sheep about the course. Most impressive.  They were selling BBQ lamb that was delicious. 

At the same fair I saw the most odd looking very large woman.  She was quite tall and weighed 400 lbs or so. She was wearing a very large and long red skirt. That is not so remarkable but from the side, her backside jutted out a good foot straight back, flat as a table.  She could have carried a stack of dinner plates.  And the hem was perfectly even.

At this same County Fair, I had entered the largest pumpkin from my little veggie patch. Which brings us indirectly to my little garden.  Unbelievably I won First Prize and four dollars.  The pumpkin was not very big and it was very lopsided.  I think the fact the Uncle Tony was on the Fair Board may have had something to do with it.

Anyway that was a fun garden.  I learned to love rip figs.  They are a amost unusual fruit, the inside looks kind of creepy until you get used to it but the taste is pretty darn good.

Dennis came up for a visit one time and he said we should go visit the dude manning the fire lookout tower. So we fixed our lunch and took along a whole bunch of ripe figs.  We drove up a mountain side and parked and climbed way way up the fire tower.  It was a neat spot.  The view was truly spectacular.  We were warned to look out for rattlers.  Eek.  The young man who worked there had an old diary of his great or great grands traveling the Oregon trail. I borrowed the book.  It was a routine description of the trip.  The most interesting bit to me was a telling of the wife making chocolate chip cookies at the evening fire.  I found that fascinating and incongruous.

That summer I also learned that ripe figs drop off the trees.  Wasps and bees like the ripe figs and get very drunk.

By the next fall, it was apparent that my marriage was falling apart.  I decided that I would return to Idaho.  I took a lovely oil painting of the seaside to Tony and Letha and got a loan of two hundred dollars cash.  Charlie and I caught a bus to Novato. 

We overnighted there and caught the commuter flight into SFO and the jet to Boise.  I had taken the .222 rifle I received as a first wedding anniversary gift.  I eventually gave it to my brother Richard  who promptly hocked it.  I cared not a whit.

I paid back Tony within six months.  I was able to get work in a fruit packing shed. Mom very handily watched Charlie.  The folks were very supportive.  I got a full time job and full time college within a year and moved to Boise.  

I haven't had a garden since, unless the square yard of lawn counts.  I picked my largest Tupperware bowl and cut out a square of lawn to ship to Barrow, Alaska. It did well enough.  I would get out scissors and mow the lawn every Saturday.  I even planted Bachelor Buttons that  nestled in the grass too anemic to grow up straight and tall even in the 24 hour day.  Oh, well.

I may be mistaken but I thought I had already posted this one

I have decided to split up my angel collection because
I have a cat.  

Even if I hung one from the ceiling, Charlie would make a suicidal leap in an effort to bring it down. This would not sit well with his human boss.

Therefore I shall distribute them among my relatives great and small, near and far. Except Jim I will leave his in the attic until when ever. I don't think I have a fishing angel but I have time.

To Charlie and family;  I don't have star wars, Legos or horse angels.  Just close your eyes.  

I'm thinking  I will give all of my Hallmark angels (In boxes) to Ellen.

I have a cowboy angel that needs to fly to Oklahoma ( I think the cowboy has a girlfriend)  along with a miniature Cabbage patch doll who received her homemade wings from yers truly.

Carlah-dee-dah must have my bell angels. Best ones are the set from Mom and Dad for one of my birthdays.  She will share with Mitch.  I do believe I have a Chef angel, who looks a bit like the Swedish chef Muppet.

Justin is going to get the angry angel who is outwardly serene. See how I got out of that one?

Gale will get an entire collection of tree toppers, some are gorgeous.  She will share with Jennifer.

Phil and Jody will get my musical angels.  Don't know if I can find a Shaklee angel but I will keep an eye out.

Richard and Cathy;  Hmm, I don't think I have an angel hanging out of a car or any dog angels, so SUPRISE!!

Mell and family will get the blind selection.  I will blindfold myself and select stuff by feelies This could get creepy.

I have a collection of 12 cherubs playing instruments, very classy.  I have to superglue on set of wings that snapped off.  These will go the CVH Auxiliary.
  
If anyone wants the ONE handmade angel let me know. Poor thing needs a home.

If any of the California folk wish an angel let me know by messaging current physical addresses, I lost those addys long ago after multiple moves. 

One last thing, all of my angels reside in the attic. All neatly boxed up. I have requested the Beloved to drag them down for me.  Could be a problem.  It's very dusty up  there and certain personal protective gear must be assembled. ( I ain't kidding).  This will take meticulous planning and probably a delay of several months.  So make no plans for possession any time soon. 
  
Love, R aka Hoarder of unhung angels (Sniff)

Coming up soon

A modest proposal:

I would like to propose that the Olympic committee take bids from countries interested in hosting a PERMANENT site for either Summer or Winter Olympics.

It is high time that ONE (or more) countries shoulder the burden for the build.  I can imagine the winter countries bidding fiercely.  

I think the Winter games should be located in Siberia.  Imagine taking the Olympic Siberian Express!!!!!

Of course the area will need tons of infrastructure.  This will be very good for the local population.  The international airport should also be very close to a stadium for ease of transport.  

The building contract will only grant 10% to the Russians thus ensuring that the job gets finished with a minimum of bribery and foot dragging. I figure that two or three Russia Oligarchs can finance the build out of pocket change.

I think the Summer games should go to Greece.  They desperately need the economic boost.  Of course Africa or India would do nicely.  In all cases the main game stadium should be integral with a very shiny new airport.

While we are at it, I propose that the Olympic committee begin the Olympic Channel.  There would be many sponsors. It would be wonderful to follow all events leading up to the once every four years event.   

There could be contests to design the mascot, design the torches, design the outerwear, the sports wear, this is a vast market. 

There could be a Miss and Mr and Trans Olympia Contest.  

Special Olympics would be folded into these games at the appropriate times.

International meets of all sports could be scheduled at these venues.  This would provide stable security.

The Olympic Airlines should be formed to provide adequate transport for all athletes.  Hence the need for a shiny new airport.

Olympic TV should offer Virtual Reality headsets for a better view of the games.  

Win! Win! For everybody.. 

Dear Hank and Meg

Hi, folks, have I got a nice little place for you.

I completely understand the desire to step back from job pressures.  This place is not exactly off the grid, it is Coos County Seat, a small town called Coquille,Oregon.

This place was hit hard in the 80's by the Spotted Owl legislation.  Three of the four saw mills went out of business.  As a result, the butcher shop, jewelry store, auto dealerships and others such as that went out of business.

Things have settled down since then.  There is one sawmill still in business, we have more insurance companies than banks.  Nearly all denominations are represented.  I am not aware of  either mosque or synagogue. 

Two grocery stores.  Two pizza places.  You can get donuts to go or have a chicken fried steak at Fraziers.  

There are not a lot of houses for sale but you acquire something  nice for under 300k.  

As far as commuting is concerned, we are withi 25 miles of the regional airport and the old terminal has been converted to a private service, very nice.  The usual size jets come and go on a daily basis.

If you are interested in showbiz we have a small theater group town who but on summer stuff.  There are a couple of small theaters in Coos Bay.

And if anyone exclaims that you look the the Royal Family just explain that you two are body doubles and played a couple of gigs at them.  Ooooh!  Also boys could wear hats and girls wear ratty ponytails.  Live in plain sight.

Do not drive a black SUV, get a midsized KIA or something.

We have access to river fishing, ocean fishing.  Hunting is fairly big time here, I don't often see a buck strapped to the top of car but there is activity.  Elk abundant just about everywhere.

Lots of places to hike and scenery to capture with a camera.

That is about it, feel free to come visit for a while.  We are are a remarkably un-nosy place.  

FIFTY SHADES OF WHAT!?

The other day, I happened across Fifty Shades of Gray.  I watched the plot develop to the point where Christian was rushing to rescue the drunken girl from her co-worker who thought she was way more interested in him than was actual fact.  Christian planted a fist in the guys face and hauled the woman home where she promptly puked.  I channel surfed.
Later that afternoon, I stumbled onto Fifty Shades again only it was the very end, the couple standing at the window of his penthouse apartment watching fireworks in Seattle. Fade to black.

Perhaps I will stumble over bits and pieces of the middle, perhaps not.  This reminds me of how I often viewed TV when I lived in Barrow.  It was Alaska time zone there and the network feed was from Chicago which is Central time, four hours different. I got off work at 5 pm and prime time was over by then.  So I would catch the end of a program, maybe a beginning, eventually part of the middle.  I did not have a VCR in those days and did not go through the torture of setting up a recording. 

Regarding Fifty Shades, I have reached the stage in life where I would prefer skipping ahead to the plot rather than all the panting etc.  I read books like this as well.

I have some books that go on for six pages of striving and thrusting.  Lots of silken covered steel, lots of gasping, clutching, moaning, groaning etc. In the trade this is known as purple prose. Fifty Shades also deals with a bit of Dominance and Submission.  Personally, I never found the appeal and I NEVER understood the reason, the dynamics and so on.

Until I came across one of my werewolf romance books.  Lauren Dane has written several volumes which revolve around a pack who live in the northwest.  They all have day jobs, have blended into the population well.  Humans know and often work with wolves.

The book called Wolf Unbound is about the relationship between an enforcer she wolf and a human cop.  Both enjoy going to a private club were they can meet partners for mutual satisfaction in a safe environment.  They get to have special equipment just like Christian. 

Here is the part I understood, the lady wolf possessed the strength to tear her partner apart and he knew this.  So she had internal satisfaction that she could break out of any situation.  In normal human on human interactions there is a trust factor that is part of the agreement and enjoyment for all.  Not my cup of tea.  

 A friend of mine is a romance writer, she says writing the sex scenes is torture. Well, Hell, leave 'em out.  The plot and lots of snarky flirting will usually carry the day.  The absolute best line of conversation that I read recently was the manly man talking with the woman's five year old and reassured him,"I always thought my dog's name was Get Out Of The Garden."

I like Lynn Kurland and all of the Scottish time travel books she has written, heavy on plot, medium to heavy flirting, marriage and the morning after, the story gallops along.

One thing I have never understood in the average sex scene is this; the woman usually attains the big O almost instantly, she never chafes and when the man punishes her by making little circles on the clit, she never goes numb, gets bored or  shoots him.  It's a mystery all righty.

I have a favorite Canadian author, Viola Grace, who writes all about women in space.  Besides the very clever plots, there is usually sex.  These woman have all signed contracts to reproduce at least one child.  In some cases they must have surgery to um ...fit.  If the scene calls for tentacles, it is very tasteful tentacles.  And it does not go on for six pages because most of her novellas are about 86 pages long.  She is an automatic buy when her books become available.  

WOMEN...IN..SPACE... Go girls!!

Naked and Afraid refined.

I open Facebook every day.  I like to click on the video feed.  Recently I have viewed several vids of a Swedish fellow doing survival stuff in the woods. One of the more fascinating ones was one where he built a shelter using slender limbs bound into a half circle.  Then he took a large size roll of clear plastic wrap  and covered the entire thing in a couple layers.  It was waterproof.  Outstanding.  It has lasted through three winters.

I was thinking that if a contestant of Naked and Afraid chose a role of plastic wrap as her one personal item, this would be handy in a variety of ways. The contestants usually choose a machete, or an aluminum pot. 

The basic plot is that a team consisting of a man and woman are taken to a remote place.  They take off all of their clothes and are given a bag that contains their one personal item and a map.  They have to survive 21 days, then walk to the retrieval point, usually about five miles away.  

They are given a survival rating from 1 to 10 depending on their experience.  They are weighed.  When it is all over they assess how well the did and how much weight they lost. There is the option of tapping out.  I have seen people tap out for injuries, snake bite and mental anguish.

First of all I would make sandals for tender tootsies.  I would sacrifice one of the bags to be used as part of the material for sandals. Yep, take a length of wrap about five feet long, twist it into a fairly tough string.   Find some dried weeds or grass bunch it up into feet like things, wrap feet with plastic string. I think this will last fairly well. If you can't find grass, use small pebbles. If there is nothing but sand but sand on couple layers of plastic, bind that to feet with the string.

Next the smartest thing I have seen is contestants start off to find mud to coat their skin if in a desert area, plaster up good, your scalp will sunburn through hair.  

However, if you are in a jungle area with tons of insects, start rolling plastic around your legs, thighs, arms, torso.  Some of those people are nothing but a mass of bug bites, it looks beyond irritation and/or painful.

The plastic can also be use to water proof the shelter.
If in a desert situation, make a solar still.  Dig shallow hole about 5 feet across, pile greens in the bottom.  Cover hole with plastic. Put rock in center to make a dip.  The greens will sweat out water, which will condense on the plastic.  Don't forget to put a container beneath the lowest point of the plastic.  This process may take all day but the water will be potable.

If you have access to water that contains fish, pretty sure some kind of fish trap can be rigged up. 

You could prepare a water jug using a couple layers of  plastic.  It is possible to fill the plastic water jug to be used as a fire starter by focusing the sun through the bag onto dry tinder.  Kind of depends on lack of clouds in the sky. 

A coracle could be created. It is a round boat comprised of slender bent branches. The plastic could be used to wrap the outside and a person could fish. Of course one would have to be careful not to get snagged and poke a hole in the bottom. No white water rafting.

One caution if you must eat foliage better boil or cook it as many plants are toxic unless heated sufficiently.

I would also suggest a couple of additions to the contest. Each survival point is worth one thousand dollars.  Most people are ranked betweeb 6.5 to 8.5.  The prize rises or falls depending on how well the contestant does.  If they tap out the lose all of their points.  I would also consider a betting pool among viewers.

Pretty sure there are other ideas and refinements out there. Give it a think.

A day out (revised)

Two or three weeks ago, husband noticed that his chronic condition had flared up.  He called the VA clinic to see if they saw walk-ins. Yep, but they are pretty busy today.  

Have you heard about the VA Mission Act?  No?  Yeah, it was signed into law in 2018 by He Who Thinks He Must Be Obeyed.  The VA allows visits to Urgent or Immediate Care clinics. The first three visits are free, after that each visit is 30 bucks. 

The MISSION Act also authorizes VA providers to use telehealth technologies to deliver care over state lines and into Veteran's home, allowing VA to enhance the accessibility, capacity, and quality of VA health care.

Oh my.  The Intermediate Care clinic in Coos Bay is open seven days a week 8 to 10 hours. Let's go!

We drove over to the North Bend Medical Center on a Saturday about 10 am, the place was nicely deserted.  We went in, husband got in line and was handed the usual clip board and we began the wait.

As we sat there, the waiting room was starting to fill up. We had beaten the rush.

One unfortunate clerk had to deal with a cranky woman who couldn't understand why they had to see her Medicare card, it was at home, she could just tell them the number.  No, we need to see the actual card, that is policy.  Repeat each time got a little louder.  In desperation the clerk called the supervisor to come to the counter.

If I were a supervisor, I would approached this as a management teaching moment for customer service. 

Here is how the conversation could have gone. Employing a half British, half Japanese persona, interaction as follows.

Supervisor:  " Oh dear, let me see if I can help you, ma-am.  Let's step into my office.  May I get you a cup of tea or coffee? "  

This followed by a very polite explanation that with so many scams now a days, it has become policy to ask to see the Medicare card with the number.  "Of, course you don't have to run home to get your card, such an inconvenience.  We accept credit cards."  

At the end of the encounter, escort the woman out the door and offer a handshake.  To make this handshake extra special, pat the hand and smile. Thank her for being so understanding.

There, an ugly American confrontation ameliorated.  I would hope this is a standard and I will write a complimentary letter  to NBMC.

Some very well behaved children came in and played with blocks and a couple puzzles and a sturdy tow truck toy.
Husband was seen and released. We had spent less than 90 minutes.  We left with a promised escrip to Safeway pharmacy in Coquille. We went home triumphant.

On a personal note. About three months ago I decided to self medicate my intermittent heart beat with extra potassium thinking that I see if the known side effects would manifest.  After three weeks, no change.  I still had the occasional lapsed beat and had to ask for more potassium ahead of schedule.

At my next appointment, Dr. H said I had a murmur.   I was sent for an echocardiogram.  Dr. C wrote that there was some valve involvement here and there, keep the blood pressure down.

About three weeks ago, I noticed that I could no longer hear the occasional missed beat.  I wonder what that is all about.  I Googled symptoms for valve prolapse.  I only met two of the ten symptoms.  Treatment for valve prolapse if Metoprolol, which I already take so got that covered.

At my last appointment just a couple days ago, I said I could no longer hear the missed beats.  She took a listen and said the murmur was still there just not audible to me. And allowed that  sometimes the body simply healed itself. Swell!!  Win! Win!

I also remarked that when you got old, you lost hair ih the damnedest places and you grew hair in the damndest places.  I never thought I would want to shave my ears.