Strange working of my mind

 I find that more and more I read something and my brain chooses to substitute that word with one that it 

1) just miss read

2) fills in the word that most often associated (by this brain) with the previous word(s)

Both 1 and 2 happen regularly when I do crosswords resulting in extra thoughts about the solution. By extra thoughts, I mean off-topic hint meaning cogitation. I see this as harmless and potentially beneficial as it exercises my recall of more possible words and flexibility in deciding the hint's meaning. All good, as I do not time my puzzling activities. Time constraints always degrade both my success and my enjoyment.

And ever more frequently 2 is happening when I read news articles. Here is today's example which struck me like a cold, wet, smack in the face by a just caught fish. Metaphorically.

Here is what I

My muse has been trying to get me blog for MONTHS

Here is what tipped me over the edge: an article on drug sniffing squirrels:

https://wapo.st/3YCM8NU  As you may recall I am a fervent squirrel fancier. Just watching them daintily yet voraciously stuff themselves at my critter feeder (a bird feeder which does not discriminate by class ) makes me smile and sometimes even chuckle. I admit that my handicapped* cat Cleo is uninterested in squirrel antics, but alerts like a normal cat at birds.

*Cleo and I are in a power struggle over my desire to control her food allergies which prompt scratching to the point of  raw skin and open sores. She likes the prescription kibble, but usually shuns the desperate offering of ANY canned food into which I mix a crushed pill. I have not found any offer that she will dependably eat. Here is today's available food which has been there since yesterday. The pictured kibble level is the point at which she comes to me with a pitiful meow prompted by her ability to see some part of the bottom of the bowl.

I have some good news about my blog for my readers: I admit that I tend to get caught up in having such a kick amusing myself that I tend to over "share". So in the interest of making these more palatable to any remaining readers I am stopping here.

Ok,: Here: My memory bucket has be rusted to the point that it no longer holds much, or beyond walking through a door. But THE UPSIDE: Shorter blogs!

Just dinking around today in anticipation of more tomorrow

I decided you might enjoy my adventure into retail land when the only option for a postage free Amazon was to take it to Kohl's.

My first effort, while I was out and about doing errands last week was to put "Kohls" into my Prius destination "resource". She found an astonishing abundance of options: the first and closest option was over 1000 miles away.

My next effort began at home where I used the internet to find the Eugene location, which was in Gateway. Groan.  I had bailed on errands early last week as traffic had amped up as holiday hostages barrelled around town fulfilling plans of presents, feasts. decor, and discount antacids. So I decided to wait until Tues. morning, leaving at 8:30 (between likely bursts of start for work traffic) to arrive when it opened at 9 am.

My December Screen Saver

I recalled that I did not recall WHERE in Gateway Kohl's was, so I started at the northwest side and drove around counter clockwise looking my goal...looking for my goal... encouraged by large signs suggesting Kohl's was to be found in this shopping-verse.

And as I did this I amazed at how drastically it had changed since last I went there. I do not recall the year, but it was a long long time ago when I thought the Dude and I should go see a movie the day after Thanksgiving. Clearly, I had paid scant attention to how that day had been hijacked by the pre-holiday (*see note below for spell check fail) hunting/gathering frenzy. The traffic was epic. I have done that TWICE now.

It had been many years since I had even a bad reason to go to Gateway. The beltline access was grander, but the store offerings seemed diminished from a fairly low prior level. Of course Covid had resulted in much brick&mortar (more accurately frame&plaster board) retail store culling. But still, wow! (and not in a good way). 

And here is the delicious chewy center of this tale: in my mind I was comparing my last impression of Valley River Center (also eons ago) to today's Gateway. I had a little chuckle at my myself. These days my memories, or what I think are memories, are a dependable source of suddenly needing to pee.

* Spell check did not recognize pre-holiday, I was offered per-  ore-  pee-  pr-  re-. I am reasonably sure (not researching) that non of these are in Webster's or OED. But if so, please do not enlighten me. Also, amazingly Covid is also not recognized.

Back from our Canadian working boat adventure (written on Thursday)

To discover a hurting cat, Cleo. She welcomed me warmly (has never held a grudge) and followed me around for scratches and cuddles. But except for the dosed canned food she ate very little. MOST unlike her. Also, I found her hiding in a new spot- in the 4" space under the couch. When not with me this was her new hangout. Not a good sign. In addition, her poor uptake of the dosed food we offer had resulted in compulsive scratching which had been going on before we left.

Here was my calculation: 

Gone 8 days, with 4 cat care visits which she seemed to handle well  - (decreased interest in food/water + explosive snot expelling sneezing fits + hiding) = a miserably itchy unwell cat.

Yesterday I tried for an vet appointment listing my concerns but the next available regular slot would be next month. I was then offered an "emergency" slot. John, still under the weather with a cold was not available to help with the two person herding, grabbing, and boxing of Cleo. So I prepared to do it solo. I was given a 12:45 "appt." and was told that due to her possible contagion we would wait in the car for likely 1-4 hours for the emergency slot to become available. So I gathered lunch, extra blankets, cleaning supplies, my tablet and girded my loins for solo Cleo boxing.

I enticed Cleo out from hiding by playing some music and sitting on the couch next to her two pillow stack soft blanket covered place next to me. When I sit there with TV or music she ALWAYS joins me to cuddle and nap. And thankfully she did. I have never been able to grab sufficient scruff with an adequate grip to pick her up (which John has used enough times that she now fights very little recognizing the futility). So I just stood up and before she could jump down I scooped her up, walked 13 steps to the carry crate and she walked in. Then the unholy yowling and howling began.

I put her in the foot well of the passenger side and covered her crate with her couch blanket. After the standard protest during transport she settled down. Until my battery was too low I used my seat warmer (!) and some cabin heat toward my feet and her box. That worked about 2 hours. We were called in after a 4 hour wait. An assistant took vitals and got her history and were told the Vet would be coming.

Nothing for another hour, so (needing a bathroom) I ventured from solitary and asked about what to expect. I was again informed that I was 3rd in line to be seen, with no estimate for how long the wait might be. I got my tablet, so I could distract myself, and returned to find Cleo under the Formica bench facing the corner of the room.

And we waited: Cleo making no sound, pretending to be invisible, and me trying to find a comfortable negotiation with the awful (but very easily sanitized bench) in the very cool room. Up side here: MUCH better for me than a very warm room!

Someone poked a head in to say that we had not been forgotten. I asked when they closed and was told they would be working until all the appointed and emergency clients were seen. Apparently one time that took until 11 pm. If not yet seen, they would send us home to try again tomorrow. I was not heartened. (I assume it will take more than one night for Cleo to let me put a hand on her again.)

Apparently this is not an actual emergency vet, which I had tried several years ago. I got a very large bill and inadequate intervention which pushed me to find this vet. This was their best stab at offering a "now" service.

At about 7 the vet arrived and made a quick but complete check with a focus on how long she had been off food. That plus the "explosive snot - and excellent name for a rock band" indicated infection. Which needed to be addressed first so she would resume eating. (I was told I MIGHT need to force feed her, which I assume would be followed by brushing her teeth.)

She took Cleo to administer an antibiotic shot, hydration, and take a blood panel to rule out other possible serious concerns for this 11 yo cat. She got a decent grade on the blood work.

We were discharged around 8 pm and had just gotten home when John arrived to see what had happened. I had been remiss in keeping him posted on the nothing that kept on happening and when I finally got home it was in recoup mode when he arrived.

We sat on the couch and much to our amazement Cleo came and cuddled next to me and let us gently love her up. She is difficult to care for, but upsides include never holding a grudge and being so generous with her sweet, soft, purring presence. I remain a cat person to the core.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Homage to Dave Barry

Even funnier than he looks!

I loved his column from Florida which was an alchemy of  his wit and alert readers.

When you sent something to him (which I did twice) you received the kind response:

"This certifies that Mary Miller is an Alert Reader and should seek some kind of treatment immediately."

I too have an alert reader in John. Here is his latest submission under the Heading: Voodoo Accounting? Is this even possible?

"Chintimini Wildlife Center claims to be the only “all-species” wildlife rehabilitation center in the Willamette Valley between Salem and Eugene. CWC says they have suffered a 256% decline in net revenue stemming from a 90% decrease in donations from 2021."

MY alert reader specifically sought my accounting based experience. Sadly (but very fortunately) I have had not a personal experience of calculating those kinds of results for any of my (comparatively fortunate) employers and clients.

So I put on my financial thinking visor and sleeve garters and came up with this response:

In my thought experiment (algebra became unwieldy) this could be explained by these possibilities:

CWC needs a competent financial person who does not mistake net revenue with net profit/loss
CWC needs an honest financial person who is not embezzling and using "creative" accounting
CWC had HUGE grants (which would be another source of funds) last year in proportion to donations, and the grants were not continued or were drastically reduced.
CWC recorded pledged donations last year, and  then subtracted them the following year when they did not appear.
OR (this happened to Alice at Eugene Clinic): her little calculator was dying but bravely kept on "calculating", yielding inexplicable results which seemed wrong to her, which I diagnosed and confirmed.
 

In summary:

The possibility of these two numbers as reported are evidence of something(s) being very wrong.
Stop funding this Trump "charity" immediately.
love, m

 

Upcoming trip

On Sunday Oct. 23rd John and I leave for another trip with Marine Link Tours. This will be John's fourth and my third time going with this great company. Google the above to see their web site.

It's a 5 night boat journey from Campbell River in British Columbia either going north or south from there. John has taken both routes, but it is always different as the stops are based on the deliveries for that journey. They service individuals and companies where no roads reach so supplies must come by water or air. We have seen float planes as taxis and our boat has a large loading dock with a ramp that can be used to drive off, forklift or hand carry cargo to and/or from each landing site. Logging and construction equipment is a frequent passenger, and once we had explosives on board (well, once that we knew of).

The passengers (max 12) in 2 person suites tend toward late middle age and more. Almost always west coast Americans and Canadians, but once I recall a very fun couple from Chicago. Meals are served at two large tables and the food is VERY good. They have a sufficient crew to have a full time cook even during the part of the year (most of winter) when they have no passengers. Likely the demand for transport diminishes in reverse proportion to the inches of rain falling as many of their customers offer fishing based accommodations.

John gets in as much time as possible with the man at the wheel, and brings out other folks' interesting travel and life experiences. On my first trip George W. Bush was our president, and several women passengers offered up unsolicited sympathy for our plight. On my second trip Trump was president. In spite of religion and politics being unacknowledged taboo subjects, I was still showered with sincere sympathy re: America's plight (curse, ill fate, tragedy, self inflicted mayhem etc.). This year they will likely offer commiserations for our current Supreme Court. Being an American abroad just gets funner and funner.

The boat is comfortable, the food varied and very tasty. There is fresh coffee available even when I am the first passenger to creep upstairs while John sleeps away the best part of the morning. This also enables me to get a very cozy nap after lunch when my personal thermostat is at it's nadir.

This is our first trip following a major remodel of the passenger quarters (and perhaps other areas). The passenger deck had a large open area where passengers could congregate for small group interaction. There were women's' and men's bathrooms and shower room. These are now part of each cabin. I did not mind having bathrooms outside our cabin and will miss the gathering place. However, if we got too noisy after dinner, we would disturb the cook who retired early in order to start baking early. And I surely do not want to impair the early coffee, baking of the morning pastry, and the refills to the cookie jar.

Over six (6!) months, actually 200 days have passed

Since last my muse managed to get a silly word in sideways. There has certainly has been Material! (especially considering my loose criteria for content). But life was coming on so fast and furiously that the wave of affronts, inanity, and consuming activities sunk my literary dory.

I may have kept some of you (short or long straw chooser I leave to your discretion) partly apprised of the abandonment of one of my values: owning only one house at a time. Friend Julie's move to a tiny home in Florence prompted my purchase of a travel trailer which I sited on a Greentrees (GT) lot I had purchased from her. This second "home" resulted in an unexpected quantity and variety of needed items and adaptations. In addition to taking up more space on this planet, I made extreme use of my Amazon prime account. This resulted in a treasure trove of reusable boxes which I was curiously loathe share on Craigslist. And a butt load of consumerism guilt. 

John and I made several visits to the trailer devoted to nest feathering (me) and solving  critical and desirable updates and fixes (John). We discovered that to make this spot desirable for more than two nights max, and enjoyable in warm weather, I would "need" a shadier lot and more livable square footage, both inside and out. And within a few months Julie spotted just such a property for sale in GT. It was a single wide mobile home with a good sized outbuilding (future guest quarters) with a full bath, a large open area, and a full laundry. In addition the lot had copious shade on the west and south sides from tall trees, a huge paved back patio (west shaded),  and two covered porches on the east and south sides

Front of Lot 80 (carport on left)

It was a gem. I made an offer sight unseen the day I was alerted. There were good photos that gave me confidence this would be very livable for me, with little needing to be done (unlike the daunting list for the trailer lot). I purchased it fully furnished  (as the couple was selling this, their summer home, and would be also be selling their winter home in Arizona to accommodate a move close to family for needed living assistance) which meant they left everything except their clothes. They started to ask if I wanted this or that friends might want. I encouraged them to off load any and all "decor" items inside and out. I asked only that they dispose of yard and home chemicals. There were also 2 large sheds which were absolutely chock full of yard, garden and patio supplies. These were clues I missed.

I took possession on July 15 and was able to spend 9 nights there during the height of Eugene's summer-crazed sports and festival season. This was a furiously busy visit, as both  buildings had "acres" of drawers and closets which (with the exception of the bedroom closets) were filled to the gills with stuff. Not only did it reduce any list of needed items for bath, kitchen, etc. but it eased my consumer guilt about needing to buy more stuff.

I actually could not move much of my trailer stuff in until I got rid of what was there. I ended up with about eight large boxes of garage sale/ charity/ leave it with a free sign stuff. Also, sad to say, a trash can full of opened pantry items I would not use, piles of old spices, decor too sad to survive, etc, etc. See: my temporary box hoarding(unlike me) turned into a stroke of genius.

My sole disappointment was the with the living room furniture. The "computer" cabinet was useless for my needs and too high for the TV, the sofa was a miserably uncomfortable and difficult to exit torture device, and the huge, ugly recliner chair had a non operable handle for lowering the foot rest of the captive user. Hence I needed to purchase a new couch, a cabinet to hold the TV and a small desk and rolling file cabinet for my computer activities. 

So, I surely overpaid for items that were left, but the delights of this house were worth it. John and I had a few very warm days when the house did not warm past 65 and cooled very nicely at night. There was always available shade outside. One coming expense is to add two awnings to the main building: one over the porch and stairs on the out building side, and one over the large west window in the bedroom. The reason: the coming rain and the fact that when it rained here we heard very little from the roof. And one plus for us with rain is it's cozy sound when your are warm, dry and reading a book or dinking around on the internet. Plus awnings should make it safer to have windows open when it is rainy but desirably temperate.

I am thrilled with my comfortable get-away. Due to Covid and other changes to our society there is no longer a reason for me to have a mobile escape pod (aka motorhome). You can no longer find a place to stay without a reservation and nearly all iffy places (empty lots, wide spots by a highway, etc) have been posted NO CAMPING.  I think it is partly because so many more folks cannot afford a place to live and so they tent, car or RV camp anywhere possible. 

I made a personal choice to not retain the lot with trailer in GT even though it would have been a desperately needed low cost rental option for a senior single or couple. I just did not want the problems of being a landlord. It would have been in high demand. But I made the selfish choice. A friend of Julie's is living in her camper on an improved lot (paved with power and water connections). For $700/mo. I hope it includes internet access!

If you have read (or skimmed) to this point, THANK YOU. I will be blogging very soon, perhaps later this week with some of my trademark silliness.

 

Why I havn't blogged in over a month.

While I have experienced the current extreme rate of inanity, venality, hilarity, and  still have sufficient self approval to believe I still have a willing (enough) audience for my take on it all, it is because

I have been both too busy for a retired person and too lazy for any sort of person.

But today, I got a belly laugh at the end of this from the Washington Post:

Opinion from Dana Milbank   April 18, 2022

Why Tucker Carlson wants men to aim lasers at their private parts.

Interesting article with this excellent summary:

I need another red laser treatment.

"Maybe Carlson will encourage his viewers (including one particular Florida resident who favors Big Macs and eschews exercise) to pursue healthier lifestyles. So far, his green lighting of red-light therapy seems to be telling them that what they really need to be true men is more testosterone. And though testosterone supplementation will indeed increase a man’s “manly” aggression, it will also reduce his fertility.

Millions of Tucker Carlson viewers unable to reproduce? Maybe junk science isn’t all bad."

Fun huh?

 

So much that happened proved to be a dead end and the subsequent events have also been energy demanding/depleting

But I am blogging today in a moment of triumph. And I need to do it quickly before the universe snaps it back. I just completed my 4th (or 5th?) call to the Internet/Cable provider that has a bulk contract with my "Village" in Florence. It is Spectrum which I think is the company's inside joke spelling of: "specter" which Oxford Languages Dictionary defines  noun: specter: a ghost: something widely feared as a possible unpleasant or dangerous occurrence.

Yeah, you nailed it Evil Corporations Hidden Threat Consortium (ECHTC) which voiced sounds like a cat horking up a small hairball. As I cannot ensure when the equipment will be dropped at my never to be used mail box in Greentrees Village, I will need to pick up the equipment at the CLOSEST Specter office, which "conveniently" is in Newport (OR!). I finally managed to get them to agree that the Deed with my name on it and registered with Lane County, should be taken as adequate proof I own said property. Even though they service almost 600 individual customers in Greentrees, they did not like the look of MY particular deed. 

In spite of numerous obstacles, delays, and rain in the Cascades (of near biblical proportions) my new beach house, disguised as a travel trailer, was gently and professionally placed on my lot's "pad'. It is a minimalist pad, and likely eco-friendly as it is two strips of pavement separated by a bark covered slash of naked (unpaved) native North American dirt. And like the glorious end of the biblical rain event,  our endeavor was blessed by ceasing the deluge in Florence.

John took a  photo to commemorate the successful landing while I was focused on something else, hence, I am in the shot. I am not happy about this. But I must acknowledge that this is my corporeal reality and I am definitely a) complicit in it's creation and b) capable of a daily denial of this reality.

 

The other guy in the shot (the one with the man bun) was our driver. This is a travel trailer that will have only one jaunt, and it is already over. True, future events may allow this trailer to do what it was designed to do (decrease mileage of the tow vehicle and annoy fellow travelers en route), but I can absolutely swear on a stack of Math textbooks that it will not be pulled by anything I will ever own or drive, as God is my witness. Also, every element in this photo makes me look short.

And while this angle does not favor me or our very nice and helpful towing guy, it IS the best angle  from which to admire John's not very new Toyota truck (chock full of items to make a trailer a comfy bolt hole).

 

 

 

So much happening I did not have time to post about my usual nothing much

OMG, my last blog was in early January. First my life got busier because a friend had surgery and I had an excuse to be of some service. Which I must admit consisted mainly of visiting her and sharing the hilarity of being us and the perfidy of a local RV dealer who failed Spectacularly to deliver as promised. This threw her long term plan to move to her lot in Greentrees and live a "tiny" life where nearby nature and quiet press in all around. The failure of that anticipated transition shredded plans, set them on fire, and then hid them under her bed. As a benefit to me, I was able to experience the Covid frustrations, delays, shortages and price gouging my simple (lazy) life had not placed in my path, admittedly as I was not trying to go anywhere. 

As she AGAIN researched how to acquire a tiny home that could be (1) delivered to Florence, (2) work with the utility hookups and slab already installed on her lot and yet (3) still not apparently ready for THIS housing solution. She has been meeting life's sling and arrows while I employ my wit, snark, and zaniness to support her efforts. Whew! I am exhausted!

I will spare you the several dead ends, cruel turns of fate, and the ever shifting footing of WHAT EXACTLY a given home will require that her lot doesn't but could provide (for a butt load of more money).

But the sunshine of our lives has peaked out from the clouds in this endeavor. As you may recall, or will shortly know, I have flirted with having an escape plan to get away from the worst of Eugene's summer and the socked in winter (if it isn't going to rain and snow don't imagine that we will be happy with persistent inversions). As a minimalist and Gaia loving person, I try to live as simply as my excessive desire for comfort, beauty, and convenience will allow. Hence, I did not want to replicate the experience of having a full time bolt hole as well as my Eugene home. 

My friend's long nightmare was ended when an ACTUAL tiny home, fully outfitted with decking, abundant covered parking, fenced and landscaped yard in a gated community even quieter and more treed than her lot. Her purchase is on schedule to close this week too!. Of course, she now has her Eugene home to sell, but the best buying season is upon us, and folks still really want to live in Oregon. As she and I discussed her options, and I looked at what might work, a shallowly buried desire broke the pavement of my resolve and shot up a green shoot of possibility. This week I will close on the purchase of my friend's Greentrees lot upon which I will have a 28 foot trailer delivered on March 4th. As has been my experience, I can usually acquire what I want if what I want is available, meets my needs and can be "rationalized" (according to my flexible standards).

Small audience (podcast, blog, whatever) greatly appreciated.

To a poet, silence is an acceptable response, even a flattering one. -Colette, author (28 Jan 1873-1954)

Intermittently I fancy myself a poet, of sorts. Most of my "creations" have been crafted using the Haiku form for structure and forced brevity! But clearly I am neither a confident blogger nor an actual poet. I vividly recall a bit in the hilarious book: "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" about an alien forcing his poetry on anyone available which is universally received as torture. I can take silence (though praise is preferred) but I fear discovering that my products are TORTURE.

I put some of my very amateurish Haiku in my earliest blogs. Be kind to yourself and do not seek them out. I am listening to a book by Laurie King which is in the series about Mary Russell and her husband Sherlock Holmes based on her discovered diaries. (You do know that sentence is mostly fictitious, right?) In the current one she is being introduced to a master Japanese Haiku poet. She is read it in Japanese (which she does not speak) and then in English translation. These do not meter as a three line 5/7/5 syllable poem. Wikipedia has an interesting article on this art form.

This ends the disclaimer portion of this blog.

Here is one inspired by a freeway drive by:

One of my poetry critics.

A frozen pileup 

Glides quietly by my lane

Oh, cars to junk yard!

One about my choice of pet:

I would have a dog

But for handful of warm poop

On forced daily walks.  

And why that is a cat:

Choose your friends wisely

Based on shared delights and needs

Cats want oft-prone maid

 

 

the Holidays cramped my muse

And as my trainer can attest: NOBODY cramps as frequently, aggressively, inappropriately and dangerously to nearby living beings as moi. But the definitive passing of MLK day heralded a capacious horizon of no Federally and/or Oregonlly recognized holidays demanding increased social interactions, shopping and large meal ingestion.

There are a few things I need to share with the world (soon to be known as the Metaverse*). I have recently become informed on the possible meaning and hazy outline of this coming "reality" via my favorite low effort news source: a podcast. And now is the time to share as widely as I am willing to - in other words likely only those who have not YET requested removal from "My little blog" email alerts. So rest assured that when you visit the M-V* you do not risk encountering passionate Luddites such as myself. And if this is the sole "up side" to being dead, at least there will be sweet release from the accelerating degradation of life as I knew it.

But back to me. I turned 70 in December which is a reasonably decent achievement. Of course I have lost some "ground" through the aging process which is how one reaches every birthday. But I am not (yet) one to give an organ recital. Today I only wish to celebrate in blog form the fact that my girls are not yet visibly (I was going to write: falling down on the job, but of course they are) diseased! Also at my annual Medicare covered WELLNESS visit (where a pulse, some blood pressure, any temp above 80℉, and proof of continued coverage is performed) which keeps the SS checks coming. Here I also learned that I am at LOW RISK of osteoporosis. I find that surprising as I was said to be on the cusp for decades. Apparently it is a calculation based on several factors. I guess the fact that none of my prior broken bones (feet and hands) are of great concern, nor it my predilection to "kissing the earth". I did a quick check on line and could find no cause and effect connection between having an excellent sense of humor and protection against osteoporosis.

So! Doing great by Medicare standards. (Note to self: do not share this blog with physicians or Medicare lest they begin to examine my wellness more globally.)

Cribbing from a much funnier writer

Dave Barry has submitted his annual review and roast of the year Barry's 2021 now coming to an exhausted close. I know I am exhausted mentally, emotionally, and clearly imaginatively. Hence my suggestion to get some inspiration from a much funnier source. I have embedded two excerpts because I have vowed that "no post of mine will be misconstrued as pithy".

2020 Olympic Games 

In Tokyo, the pandemic-delayed 2020 Olympic Games (motto: “Later, Smaller, Sadder”) finally get underway with the majestic Nasal Swab of Nations. This is followed by the ceremonial lighting of the Olympic Torch, which for safety reasons is a small vanilla-scented bath candle that is immediately extinguished to prevent it from attracting crowds. Let the Games begin!

Milk crate challenge  (which I previously was innocent of, eschewing social media)

Dave's excerpt From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia (shortened a bit by me)

The milk crate challenge is a video challenge that became viral online in August 2021. The challenge involves stacking milk crates into a structure that resembles a podium, with both sides of the structure functioning as stairs.

Due to the instability of the stacked crates, participants often fall while ascending or descending the podium, risking serious injury. Falling during the challenge has led to a variety of injuries, including dislocated shoulders and rotator cuff tears, ACL tears, meniscus tears, broken wrists and even spinal cord injuries. 

Not on topic, but silly.

Back to your favorite blogger now.

As ever, I had no plans to attend the Olympic Games in any year and during any or no pandemic. Also, now that I am aware of another Darwin Awards qualifying effort (which can lead to injuries I can easily sustain while tending to my bird bath) I am going to skip that too. Exhaustion and a desire to drink a second cup of coffee while observing the result of a much hyped snowmageddon for the Willamette Valley, (currently approximately at the depth of scant) but still coming! Cabin fever here I come!

 

 

Do I see light at the end of the tunnel?

At a recently concluded conference of seriously concerned and concerning Republicans (in and out of office and their minds) gathered to hear from the most enlightened of their ilk... Lauren Boebert pranced while bloviating (taking Trump's podium skills to a new level) and pronounced:

I am tired of having Godless people who hate America run this country! You and I are going to take this country back!

So am I!  And so should we!

But perhaps she did not mean godless in the way I define it: Being a practicing follower of a belief in the value of others irrespective of faith, nationality, gun inventory, and support of Unbounded Capitalism.

Also, I think she may hold the opposite view of what demonstrates real love of America: Believing in the founding principals of our republic, while acknowledge we are still working toward that ideal while employing the Constitution and Bill of Rights as the means to this goal.

Clownfish risk "virginal"pregnancy.

So I must conclude that either our sides live in different realities (like matter and anti-matter, which cannot successfully be allowed in the same "corner" of the universe). See note below.

OR we now use a language in which antonyms and synonyms carry the same meaning. This seems like a hermaphroditic quality. Consider one of nature's practicing hermaphrodites: the Clownfish. Do we wish to give birth to all our young (or in this case, all our ideas) without any contribution from others of our species? Where is the fun in that? 

Note: as a "journalist" I occasionally do a slap dash check of a fact deployed in my irreverent take on the larger world (everything outside my head). I employed a simplified idea of matter/antimatter. As it turns out not merely simplified but entirely wrong. Here is the one place I checked Matter - Antimatter, and decided, WTF, I have as much credibility as nearly everything readily available online. So, I persist.

My conclusion: we ARE living with matter and antimatter now. That explains quite a bit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

biological progress for humans? Hmmmmm

Also, note that we see this creature as clownish. Is that really where we want to go with our god created bodies?

 

 

Aging is a process of loss and aggravation

I likely do not need to state an obvious side effect of piling on the years. I have just "celebrated" putting 70 of them, one after another (with neither gaps, nor transpositions) into a pile - which is me.

And I am mostly quite OK with being ever older (who isn't except the dead?) But being OK is an individual thing. I don't long for prior periods of my life, although I admit sometimes I did not make anywhere near the best of them. And knowing that, I still routinely fall short. At a birthday celebration in my deep water aerobics class we were admonished to: Enjoy the health you have today! A gutsy admonition for a group of mostly women mostly older than me. But then the obvious occurred to me: this is likely the healthiest many of us can (or will) be. Yikes!

But enough on the aging process. Let's talk aggravation. A common symptom of menopause (irritability) which I thought I had dodged was in fact doing push ups with a clap and box jumps of 36 inches during the intervening decades. I mention these two exercises because:

A) Very fit folks can do these physical power moves and 

B) I either cannot, or suck at doing such physical moves, but 

C) I EXCEL at difficult and extreme negative mental activity. So those mid life years with few evident emotional eruptions, were actually when vast pools of molten emotions were working their way to the surface.  And here they are.

Favorite empty purse on left

Today's example: my most favorite ever purse  has a damaged strap which renders it much less useful. It's unparalleled qualities include:

1. Very light weight at 9 oz. Hence I only lug around stuff I want; not so much lugging the container.

2. Nylon fabric which is machine washable and dry-able. Obviously useful.

3. A handy open pocket in the back for easy access to my pocket calendar, shopping list on the back of a used envelope, and several expendable pens

4. All other interior areas are lined in light blue, while the exterior is a yummy brown. I prefer a dark colored purse, but for GOD"S sake use something light colored for the interior. OR, and this is now common for purses which are black holes have a very tiny hard-to-activate light bulb. Activation takes one hand and fails to illuminate much.

5. The 4 pockets from back to front are large, medium, small and smaller. The three sub pockets are arrayed from deepest to shallowest on the front. As a compulsive organizer I can go right to the desired pocket for what I know will be there. Hence, reduced pawing, swearing and ultimately dumping it all out to find something.

New fully loaded purse on right

6. And best of all, it is a tidy 9 in. tall, 7 in. wide and 3 in. wide at the bottom. This means that when loaded it can sit upright. 

And because of all these desirable features, including an original price of  $33 in 2012, it is no longer available. Because fashion! status! one for each outfit! boredom with things! and other consumer tendencies which are at the heart of our unsupportable lifestyle.

In summary, I am much much more than irritable. I am incandescent with outrage at needing a new but not improved purse.  So there!

 

Season's greetings (and a few video suggestions) from the dark side

First I must acknowledge a seasonal mindset adjustment. One of my readers informed me that last weekend was a "holiday weekend". As a many-years-now retiree with a tenuous grasp on the date (always what day, often the month, and only occasionally which decade) I was confused about WHAT holiday. As it turns out our society treats every December weekend as the annual SHOPPING Holiday. Not quite a recognized religion, but perhaps the most actively attended one nationally. No official holiday designation is required because as Americans we begin observing and participating from a very young age. As you can readily discern, this is not my chosen "acquisition faith system": I am a minimalist tree hugger*.

In spite of this well-known quirk (within my small friendship circle) I am occasionally sent a holiday related card which I receive with joy.  However, when it comes from outside this circle (real examples: Guarantee RV, other frequented vendors, and charities I support - which should better use my contribution) I get annoyed. But being lazy I exact only the penalty of trashing it, which is sadly exacted against mother earth and hence only indirectly against the resource squander-er.

This is my first seasonal card of this year which minimalist-ikly covered Xmas, New Year, and my December B-Day. And perhaps unknowingly finely attuned to one of my reading and viewing preferences: someone gets murdered** therein. This is where my VERY sublimated murderous rage is allowed to play. I used to be easily triggered by fearful scenes on TV and in books. But my hide has toughed (likely not 100% to be desired) and now I cannot manage only the very difficult depictions (eg: torture, and ever since a memorable scene in "The Lone Ranger" - quicksand). An example of the bullet-proof-ness of my hide: I laughed at "The Exorcisit".

Sent by one of my inner circle I was encouraged to view the bordering portion as if from a crime scene! It's very special when I am well known and STILL liked! Dexter was my (so far) favorite serial killer closely followed by the main character of the Amazon series: "You".

Enjoy the Holidays as YOU see fit!

 

*By this I do not mean I wish to only hug an appropriate number of trees; I embrace both minimalism and all of Mother Earth, except not so much the hot, buggy, muggy places.

**I am very opened minded about this, as I can also enjoy an absurdly unlikely accidental death when tastefully depicted (especially the one in "Six Feet Under" when an LA area jogger's run was ended by a mountain lion!) 

 

Health concerns (not alarming, just maddening)

First, I received a warning message in a dream last night. Apparently, while I have been launching a near daily seek and destroy mission against post menopausal facial hair in my brow, lip and chin areas, there has been substantial enemy incursion in my cheek areas. In fact, I had an incipient Civil War style beard putting down roots. Happily, like nearly ALL my dire dream accounts, this is not (yet) true.

John alerted me to an OPB account of PBM's with the Orwellian official name of Pharmacy Benefit Manager. It is not really a manager of benefits so much as it is a manager of the profit portion allocated to the players*. Spoiler alert: less and less over the past decades as these entities have consolidated and grown like cancers (my words, OPB is less straightforward). This has become an existential threat to pharmacies across the nation, but especially in Oregon due to an unintended effect of the Corporate Gross Receipts Tax in combination with how PBMs have structured the payment and purchasing schemes for their captives.

After getting a bit into the weeds via that report I think I now understand what is at play in my choice of Medicare Part D plans for 2022. This year my best choice was a mail delivery option via CVS Caremark. I had decided that the grief I got during the later half of 2021 getting two of my quarterly deliveries of prescriptions might require either a change of carrier, or a change to a local pharmacy. I researched this weeks ago and to my surprise, the best plan for me was with the same carrier, but with a local preferred pharmacy (I chose Walgreens). The surprise was how much MORE it would now cost to have a mail service. But based on the info from OPB, all too predictable.

My Mood Today

The financial squeeze put on Pharmacies by the PBMs (more correctly standing for Profits Belong to Me) left them with no financial survival strategy but to cut back personnel. Thousands of pharmacists and assistants were let go, while there was not only no reduction of work (filling, billing, advising, etc.) but an increase as the remaining shops had to absorb the customers whose pharmacy had closed.You can get all the unhappy details in this report if you think I am exaggerating: https://www.opb.org

I expect that the degraded access to pharmacies, and the degraded service at overwhelmed pharmacies will result in lower Rx costs for the Part D provider due to unfilled and unfillable scripts than the costs of the easier to fill delivered Rx. As I have a one month surplus of my regular drugs I am going to take my chances with the likely delays at Walgreens over the predictable annoyance and higher cost of a home delivery plan.

* Named Drug Mfg, Generic Drug Mfg, PBM, Insurer with prescription drug benefit (including govt. insurance), and pharmacy (roughly in order of possible available profit).

Here I am AGAIN

By here, I mean April 28, 2019: my blog post conundrum. Well, not EXACTLY the same, as you will agree (but only if you re-read the related post herein referenced).

Blah Blah Blah.  Here we go.

As of April 2019 I was a fully paid up Register Guard delivered paper subscriber. I once again had financial scruple consonance. This state continued until  March 2021 when I decided that the paper version of the local "rag" was too sad to continue. So I cancelled it and awaited the remaining balance of the year I had paid for.

I then experienced a local news blackout as I haven't sought television news for perhaps a decade. John suggested I go to online local news sites. I didn't. He showed me the online version of the Guard, and I decided to give it a try ($1 a month for six months). So I signed up, but decided that to avoid any confusion at the RG billing dept. (Now Gannett) I created this account under my secondary email address. I believed I had succeeded at this task, as I was charged for my first month: July 2021. I accessed RG on line and kept up on local news, local deaths, and Wed. through Saturday NYT crosswords*. And then, darkness once again descended. About two months later I was suddenly unable to log in. I even tried logging in under my prior email address. And there I was, with a fully paid up account. But I could not get online access. I procrastinated about a month and then called the only phone number I could find. It had a diabolical " customer service" phone tree which prioritized wanting a new subscription (paper or online). There MAY have been a chance to discuss a current account at the end of the Desperate Offers of Free Gifts From A Dying Product options tree, but I only lasted through 1.5 of them before saving myself and hanging up**. 

Somewhere I found a link to send an email inquiry. I bit. It warned it would be a delayed response, and it surely was. In addition it was completely unhelpful, except it gave me the phone number to call for assistance. As per above, I had been there, done that and remained help-free. But I decided to try one more desperate call, and this time I would immediately begin answering "No" to all desperate offers. This time, for unfathomable reasons, my THIRD choice was to connect to a PERSON🎆. He was patient, tried things, stayed on the line while I tried things, and then did something to activate my account. I was back with access! But billing is still not happening. I think I will just let the $5 I owe for 5 months, and whatever they may want after that just go the way of errant electrons. I believe that I have tried to assist their revenue flow to a reasonable, prudent, and sincere standard. I am OK will failing my strict financial honesty standard in this case. I have been beaten, but not broken.

* Mon and Tues not worth printing out and Sunday cannot be printed out.

** First desperate offer for anyone over 65 was a free emergency call button. Second desperate offer for anyone........I no longer recall. But it left me wondering if instead of extreme discounting the cost of a new subscription and offers of a gift they simply made it worth purchasing. They might survive a few more years as the value continues to devalue.

Breaking news: breaking dam in Northern Idaho

 

This map was in the Register Guard today without adequate explanation. Apparently the heavy rainfall (depicted in green) in the NW has breached dams in northern Idaho, spilling southeast. This is a visual depiction of Nature's system of planet balancing (GAIA). 

Perhaps, like you, I am wondering why THIS particular imbalance was the first modern example of Nature "balancing forces" to achieve conditions favorable to life.

I agree with Nature that the concentration of hostile, armed and pathologically misguided citizens in such a small area was a strange anomaly. And no Google search to date has explained WHY there? and WTF?

But we must applaud any attempt by Nature to re-balance this suffering planet and it's still extant life forms .

Here is an explanation of the Gaia hypothesis, which does not mean that it is WRONG. It may be bad, or not science. It may even qualify as a religion. If so, I am going to see if it is a 501c3 under US Tax Laws, and if so, I am going to ramp up my climate related contributions dramatically. Also, in light of THIS intervention, I will redirect my political contributions to a force which appreciates our threatened democracy and has proven it's determination to ACT NOW.  

Much can be "learned" on line

The scare quotes in the title are shorthand for when learned information is actually DIS. Yeah, you learned something alright. Now you are effed.

 A few paragraphs down in a WaPo article about China vowing to discontinue building coal fired plants for developing economy countries. I found these two paragraphs:

"Even as richer nations look to drive down carbon emissions to net zero, many low- and middle-income nations remain hesitant to set similarly stringent targets, in part because doing so would mean often abandoning the most readily available source of electricity: coal.

That reluctance is a problem for any hopes of a global solution to the climate crisis in Glasgow."

I had to reread that final sentence, as I was unaware of a climate crisis in Glasgow. I think the "in Glasgow" should have come following hopes.

Of course this awkward wording was unlikely to reinforce a prior belief in Glasgow's imminent tornado, flooding from a dying glacier, or other climate crisis looming over the gloaming (geographical fusion humor).

No, today I am turning my serious concerns (wrapped in my self described wit) to activate your alerts to the more subtle and hence more embedded  misinformation we absorb on line while intending to learn something.

1. This is everywhere: in photos of people, famous and not, wearing some form of a covid inspired face covering either a) not actually a useful mask (bandit bandana) or b) a potentially useful mask worn so as to fail. Notable examples of that include 1) tucked under the nose and 2) with obvious gaping gaps at the cheek level. Every one of these photos should include the disclaimer: VERY FEW COVID DROPLETS WERE PREVENTED FROM DOING THEIR WORST BY THE PICTURED "MASK".

2. Tilt-a-Whirl nutrition information. Photos of recommended healthy servings are thick on the ground and often oddly deficient nutritionally for the aesthetics of the photo. This annoyance in addition to the yoyo recommendations such as coffee good/not good/excellent, tea better, red wine good, but doesn't grape juice have the same anti-oxidants? Oatmeal with blueberries is an excellent breakfast. But will FOUR berries do it?

Petty nit picks? I suggest not. I suggest these seemingly harmless visuals imprint in minds and lead us astray. I also read that Dr. Fauci is trying to kill puppies. A photo of this atrocity being performed would lend that seemingly unlikely accusation much more weight for those difficult to delude.