The last Richard update of the year.

Yes, we did a Portland run this morning. We met Dr. Seung, Nurse Nancy, and Social Worker Dawn. It was a full morning!

I learned many things.

#1. The pituitary gland is pretty worthless in mature men.

#2. My high school biology class did not prepare me for oncological conversations.

#3. Gamma knives are not an upscale cutlery option. (Although, I didn’t learn what gamma knives are!)

I also learned that Richard is going back into radiation therapy. He starts a week from today and has 10 sessions, every weekday for two weeks (in Portland). The other options were the gamma knife, but there was some reason that was less desirable and surgery. They start the surgery by going up the nose, so that was obviously not going to be anything that I was going to listen to. Place your hands over your ear and chant, “Puppy dogs and ice cream, puppy dogs and ice cream” over and over. It makes unpleasant things easier to listen to.

Happy New Year!

Quack, Quack, Quack!!!

Oregon 30, Texas 7

Commentary on the picture from the last post.

I think what started this all is that I remember the bathrobe that Mom is wearing. That is why I really like the picture. And yes, Mom is beautiful in this picture.

Dad could be in pajamas, or it could be a wool shirt and he has been out shoveling snow and plowing out the driveway before Christmas breakfast. Karla and I are obviously in our night wear. Jane seems to be in the costume of the cult that she had joined the week before. (Mom made her put her hood down for the picture.) Beth and Trudy look like they got home late the night before and are in the clothes they wore on their hot dates.

I love old pictures. 

It was a simpler time

And a Happy Boxing Day to you all!

I’m sure you have all logged on to find out what is going on in the never-ending saga of our new Roman shades. I tell you it is just an event-a-moment catastrophe in the making.

What? That isn’t why you are here? But you’re missing all the intrigue and suspense!

Oh, I see where you’re at. You just want a quick and dirty Richard update, and then you’re going to log off and fix dinner. Fine be that way. I’ll give you an update.

We got good news and bad news at the oncologist in Portland today.

First, the good news; they have figured out what is causing Richard’s malaise and there is a moderately easy way to make him feel better. One pill four times a day and he will be damn near as good as new, pdq. Ah, the miracles of modern medicine!

And the bad news; they have figured out what is causing Richard’s malaise. It seems that his cancer has metastasized to his brain. And it seems that the tumor is wreaking havoc on many of Richard’s systems. The pills they prescribed will lessen swelling around the tumor easing the symptoms, and we have an appointment with an oncological radiologist on Tuesday to see what kind of longer term solutions there may be.

You know, there are times I just want to sit down on the floor and throw a temper tantrum. 

A good day to all!

Update?

Well, there really is nothing to update. Richard is still home. He had his local doctor’s appointment this morning. He has put back on 6 of the 10 pounds he lost, mostly water gain. His blood pressure is still low (96/60), but it is above the crisis level. The trip to town took it all out of him. He is sleeping now.

Today, I’m going to try making cheesy cream of broccoli soup, the kind you send through the blender. It’s not full protein, but it meets all the other criteria for Richard’s food: blandish, smooth, high fat and calories. I tried a Cauliflower/Tofu Soup the other night. It met all of Richard’s needs, except the high fat and calories bit. It wasn’t a rip roaring success, but Richard ate it.

Okay, I’m taking menu suggestions. It just needs to be:

                Full protein

                Not spicy

                High Calorie

                Easy-to-swallow format

                Low sugar

I will accept four out of the five!

Just an old picture

Back row: Frank Vagg, William Nelson, Ida May McCracken and Ira McCracken

Front row: Lucille Nelson, Gertrude Vagg and Juanita McCracken

Mom had always said that the Vagg’s and the McCracken’s were family friends. My guess is that Frank and Ira were co-workers. I’m not sure where the picture was taken, but Oneonta is a waterfall and gorge near Multnomah Falls, so it is possible they were on a Sunday drive up the Columbia.

The Christmas Tree of 2013

Our tree has been selected.

 It is a 1970/80’s ceramic tree that was made by Richard’s Aunt May. There were three Sloan girls. May was the oldest, then Anna and finally Richard’s mother, Bernadette. Of the three, Anna was the only one I ever met. May and Bernadette had been gone something in the 10 year neighborhood when I met Richard.

Now, there is a long and short version to this story. I look pretty damn fine in the short version. The long one shows some of my warts and other unattractive characteristics.

So, let’s go with the short version.

The tree had lain broken in a box in the attic for many years. I got it out and fixed it as best I could.

I know, even I wish I had a boyfriend as thoughtful as me.

Safely home and tucked into bed.

Warm and hydrated, just need to keep him that way!

It's like Stephan Pastis knows my heart!

Sunday morning update!

If some of what I write seems disjointed of even more marginally logical than normal, it is because little Tom is assisting me in this post. His writing style is very different than mine. He prefers soft and fluffy prose, while I’m more into the hard driven style you’re all used to.

I’ve been into town to see Richard already this morning. He was in good spirits and seemed to be better. He had a test yesterday (barium swallow), which showed nothing special other than he is old and decrepit. We knew that already!

His doctor is trying a new tact. He has Richard on a plethora of new medicines. Okay, four new medicines, two for nausea/indigestion and two appetite stimulants. They are going to keep him in the hospital until at least Monday, to make sure he has no unfortunate reactions to the medicines. They have no real idea what to do for Richard’s difficulty swallowing, as they have no idea what causes it.

And a happy day to you all!

And so this is solstice.

It’s the shortest day of the year for those of us who dwell in the northern hemisphere; the longest for those lucky bastards south of the equator.

Yeah, spending the winter solstice in Buenos Aires might be a pretty good way to go! Ooh, ooh… even better, Montevideo, Uruguay!

And I bet the summer solstice in Reykjavik would be pretty fine!

And he's gone again

Yes, Richard is back in the hospital. He woke me up at about 10:30 PM and I drove him down to the emergency room. Of course, they kept him for the night. It is almost 4 AM. I finally got home at about 3, and Max darted out the door. I had to wait until he was in the mood to come back in the house. If it weren't for coyotes, he would have spent the night outdoors.

Yes, he is the second cousin of the devil, once removed.

Same story with Richard as last time. We (meaning "he") were just a little more pro-active this time.

Okay, I am officially pissed!

Same sex couples in Utah are getting married and I’m working the streets in Hood River trying to get people to sign a petition to get gay marriage on the ballot in Oregon. Does anyone else see the absolute incongruousness of this absurd situation?

Oh, and this is totally different than that time I tried working the street before. I found out the hard way that there was already a glut of middle-aged male prostitutes on the market in the Upper Hood River Valley. It was a bitter lesson, but I learned it well.

So suddenly Utah is following the footsteps of New Mexico, which follows Illinois, which follows Hawaii, ad nauseam. And where is Oregon in this procession? We better be ahead of Alabama, or I am going to throw a temper tantrum unlike one I’ve thrown since I was a child. (College students are children, aren’t they?)

Congrats, Utah!

He is home.

Yes, Richard came home yesterday afternoon.

I have to admit that as we left the parking lot at Hood River Memorial, I wasn’t sure it was a good idea. Halfway home, when he started to cough, I was pretty damn sure it wasn’t a good idea. And when he skipped lunch and went straight to bed, I thought about warming up the car so he would be comfortable as we sped back to the hospital. But he was okay. He only ate a small dinner but stayed up a couple of hours after I went to bed.

I stayed home this morning until he woke up. He actually seemed perky to me. Okay, that is a term that needs to be compared to how bad Richard had been. I was pleased. I still left work early, but Richard was awake when I got home and seemed good. Okay, he wretched that one time, but it wasn’t a bad wretch!

He has an appointment with his local doctor on the morning of the 24th. Then he has an appointment with his oncologist in Portland on Boxing Day.

Positive vibes, warm thoughts and even prayers are welcome.

And a Richard update

I seldom do a straight-laced write. Straight is so hard for me to do, but let’s give this a try.

First, it seems to me I never really told anyone about last night, so let me catch you up. Richard had finally agreed with me that it was time for him to see a doctor. His doctor’s docket was full, but there was a Nurse Practitioner who could see him at 5:30PM. So, we drove down the mountain into Hood River, parked in the closest parking lot and entered the medical building. He checked in, we sat down. Shortly, they called us back. In the short distance from the lobby to the exam room, with a minor detour to a scale, Richard grew winded. He became woozy. The Nurse Practitioner talked to Richard for only a few sentences until she said, “My only real question is, ‘Do you think you can make it to the hospital across the street on your own, in your own car, or should I call an ambulance?’”

An ambulance was there quick as a wink and Richard was rushed across the street. And there started the four hour process of going from a sick, sick man to an emergency room admittee, to a full blown hospital patient. It is an arduous task: one not for the ill or faint of heart.

This morning, I was a mere seconds behind Richard’s ‘Hospital Doctor’ getting to Richard’s room. I had met him the night before. The ‘Hospital Doctor’ is a really pretty cool concept. Not only does your regular or surgical or whatever doctor see you, but there is an additional doctor who is there all the time, and he/she comes to see you, too. The doctor works as an additional advocate for you.

So, I get there this morning just in time to hear the latest. Some good news, and some less than sterling news. They got the blood pressure back to an excellent rate. He is not longer short of breathe, but he also has not been allowed to walk without assistance since his admittance. His blood counts were all reasonable from the test he had last night; all abnormalities with within acceptable ranges considering Richard’s recent treatments. The nausea medication they gave him is working well, the opiate is working to control his headaches and he has lost over 10 pounds in about 6 weeks. They have no idea why he is having troubles swallowing and no clue as to his loss-of-appetite.

Today he had a couple of test. First, he did one of those oh-my-god-oscopies. This one was a colonoscopy that started on the other end. More information than I needed. I’m totally cool with it, just don’t expect me to hold Richard’s hand during the procedure.

His esophagus looks good.

Then he has a CAT scan. There was nothing unusual in the belly or lower tract. There was something in the lung, it could be another tumor, or maybe it is scar tissue. Probably just scar tissue. I forgive the doctor, he is young.

Scar tissue pressing against the esophagus is a reasonably common problem for people in Richard’s position.

Richard is spending another night in the hospital.

Adieu, Nelson

New Hampshire: Rockingham

This picture is so intriguing to me. I took it with an old-fashioned, inexpensive camera in 1994. But (if you ignore the age of the automobiles) it looks like a picture from a date much earlier.

It is Portsmouth, New Hampshire.

It is from a good time in my life.

Pure commentary

As the Environmental Engineer in charge of Tillietown, Tommyville and the historic district of Kitty City, I would like to say a thing or two.

First, to the two out of three of you who voted to update my title to “Environmental Engineer”, I want to say “Thank you!” I know it seems so damn politically correct, but wearing a badge that says “Environmental Engineer” is just so heartwarming, compared to the old title of “Litter Boxboy.” (The vote was anonymous. I have no idea who to despise!) Yes, nomenclature can be so important to the minnions.

But there are a few other critical issues I would like to address.

First, to the residents of Tillietown: I know that you have the smallest sanitation district of the three meownicipalities (they thought that up, not me!), but I do not believe that fully explains your frequent misses. Okay, let’s be frank. I’ve seen the videos uploaded to Youtube of you trying to pee off the second shelf and hit the box. It’s gone viral. Everyone thinks it is hilarious. Not everyone has to tidy up afterwards.

And to the denizens of Tommytown: I realize it is a custom. I realize if you were a nation, it would be a national sport. I understand that you consider it a religious ritual. But litter tossing is not a sport, is a really poorly designed custom and has no aspect of religion that I care to discuss. Period!

To the residents of the historic district of Kitty City, where it all began so many years ago: why is it everyone thinks you are so evil?

Arizona: Yavapai

An amazing sunset in Cottonwood while visiting Aunt Kathie.

A new cat toy!

Yes, our old cat toys were looking a bit worn and tired, so I sprang for a new entertainment enhancer for the feline set. It’s a cute little fish on a string attached to a rod, something like a fishing pole. It makes a squeaky noise.

 I showed it to Tillie first.

 “Oh, how sweet, you caught me a fish. I prefer mine prepared with a light dill sauce with shallots and fresh ground pepper. Do be a dear and let me nap until you have it prepared.”

 I’m not sure she understood the whole meaning of “cat toy”.

 Tom was slightly more receptive.

 “Aw, how cute! A toy fish. Don’t you think it a tad odd that he’s out of water?” He inspected the toy closer. “You do, of course, realize the incongruity of the cute little fish-like creature squeaking like a mouse, don’t you?” He paused and gave it more thought. “Don’t you think, given the reasonable semblance to flight and its approximate size, that it would be more appropriate if it were a bird? And wouldn’t it be more fitting if it chirped?”

 He then proceeded to sit down and draw a remarkably detailed diagram of a toy bird, complete with flapping wings that I could construct for him. I think my next few weekend are tied up.

 Max loved it. He's really not as bad of a cat as some of you say!

Those were the days

And a couple more priceless gems from the past

He always thought of himself as a nature guide!

A totally rare picture of Mom in her motorized scooter. I think it may have been the only time she rode it.

Idaho: Twin Falls

             

Now, before you get carried away thinking there should be two waterfalls here that resemble each other, no. This is Shoshone Falls. There is only one.

And don’t think you should be searching for Shannon and Abby in the picture. They aren’t there. (But just an aside, someone should tell them that they need to add to their “Things-to-do together” list, a trip to Twin Falls so they can get their picture taken beside the “Welcome to Twin Falls” sign. It would just be so adorable.)

Rumor said that Shoshone Falls was quite spectacular. Rumor was the Shoshone Falls rivaled Niagara Falls. Rumor was a bald faced liar. 

Remember that church off exit 104?

It has recently been sighted standing upright.

I think this calls for a rendition of the "Hallelujah Chorus"!

Searching for photographs

And came across of couple of treasures

Who  is this handsome family, and why is a picture of them in my family album?

Okay, it is a distant second from her classic pose in "Senior Class Portrait", but it is still priceless. Oh and she grew into her fashion sense later in life... circa 2006.

Tennessee: Davidson

Nashville isn’t Nashville without Jane Vanna Brunt accentuating the historical highlights.

I'm sure you all agree...

A perfect night includes at least two cat fights.

Last night was more than perfection!

Kentucky: Montgomery

When you know the backstory, little speaks more acrimoniously about my ancestry than this picture.

Richard Reid may not have been a saint, but John Jay Cornelison pretty much proved he wasn't.

Are you ready for the Fête du Bon Père?

Is the macaroni harvested and properly cured? Have you candied the corn? Sapped the syrup out of the Johnny Sauce tree? Cheese properly aged?

Come on folk, this is a serious holiday!

Pennsylvania: Philadelphia

Philadelphia the city and Philadelphia the county share the same boundaries. So a picture that captures the sense of place of Philadelphia County would be an urban picture. Few cows roam the forlorn streets of rural Philadelphia County.

And I think this is one of my better pictures.

Oregon: Sherman

The photo that started my whole mission. A wheat field in Sherman County, Oregon. It just caught my fancy.

With less than 2,000 residents and no major cities (qu’elle surprise!) it is also one of the state's lesser known counties. And at only 831 square miles, it is among the smallest of Oregon’s counties.

But I’ve actually had a number of friends from Sherman County, and it has a warm spot in my heart. And at Biggs Junction, one of the most horrible truck stop communities in the nation, there is a convenience store named “Dinty’s”! I can’t help but remember my cousin Dinty (or Elaine) Foster.

Good thoughts for Sherman County! 

November 11, 2013

I was trying to figure out how old I am today. I got a little confused until it dawned on me that I needed to determine the cosine of the bilateral tangent of year of my birth and then attempt to correlate it to the reciprocal of the cosecant of the year I turned 21. Okay, carry the three and multiply the remaining quadrilateral by the square root of π, and holy bejeezus that is one big number!

Let’s just say I’m old. Not quite as old as dirt, as that is the age of one of my sisters, but way too close for my personal comfort!

As with any wise person of my advanced years (OMG, did you see how big that number was!)I have been doing some thinking lately, or as I like to say, “I’ve been saging my brain out.”

Our local art center is sponsoring a series of talks entitled “Sense of Place.”

Mention “place” to me, and I automatically think of a map, and give me a map and you won’t have to speak to me for hours, perhaps even days. Give me an atlas and you’re safe until next summer.

Okay, I’ve got the map out, I’m looking at the pictures I took yesterday, contemplating place and I suddenly remember this article I read many years ago about this person who’s goal in life was to visit every county and parish in the United States. (I don’t remember if s/he ignored Alaska or used the census districts, or what.)

Okay, sense of place; camera; map! I will visit every county in the United States and take a picture that somehow reflects that counties sense of space.

Wow, now this is a totally obtainable goal. I’m not sure how many counties there are in the US, but Texas alone has 16 billion.

This will be easy, and it will be fun. And I will post the pictures on this blog. You’ll recognize the posts by the title. The title will be State: County… or for example “Oregon: Sherman”.

Am I amped or what?

Road Trip-ette

It was just a quick round trip to Pendleton to meet up with Dianne and give her a couple of boxes of Wayn’s things. Oh, and a really big blue vase.

Okay, exit # 188 claims “Echo historical sites.” So I’m like, “Why not?”

I never found the historical sites, but fell in love with St. Peters Catholic Church.

Next exit is Arlington, Oregon

Arlington is the hometown of Doc Severinsen, Johnny Carson’s musical side kick on the Tonight Show.

And just a few miles off Exit #104 is

This amazing old church!(And if I knew what to do about it lying down on the job, I would do it. I guess it is just tired.)Just lean your head!

Good gracious hello! I’m Tillie

Now, I know you are all wondering is “Tillie” short for Mathilda or Attila? Oh, you silly geese, it’s Mathilda Jane, of course.

Now it is true that Tom is the smart one, but I am the sophisticated one. And Tommy is such a dear to me. I ask him to log me on to the computer and the next thing you know he is typing as fast as his little paws will go and presto, I have connection with the world. Drop a subtle hint about how dear a spot of tea would be and before you know it, here comes Tom with a cup of chamomile.

[Lap, lap]

It does warm the soul. Now you all know that Tom and I had some unfortunate experiences with the people we used to live with. It pains me to even think about it. We had thought of them as friends, but we were obviously mistaken. We were thinking that perhaps we could never trust another person again. But, well we are such people cats, that we couldn’t help ourselves.

[Lap, lap]

Maybe that will help you understand why Tom was so devastated by Katčka z Hell. Well, that and the meat hooks that mean cat has dangling from his front paws. When I met Max, the first thing that came to mind was Rasputin. He is nothing but a big, mean, arrogant, foul-mannered, foul-smelling, loudmouthed peasant-cat with an attitude that bears no semblance to his standing in life. And that time he swatted me on the rear like a common wench at a roadside inn! He will get his comeuppance!

[Lap, lap]

So, but I digress. We have settled in. There is this cute little area on the top of the piano and adjacent file cabinet that is called ”Tommytown”. And the washing machine and dryer give something of an industrial feel to Tillieville, but I love it all the same.

[Lap, lap]

Oh, and there is even a spare bed up in Tommytown, so stop by anytime!

Even though we are slogging on Saintlessly,

We still wish everyone a Happy All-Saints Day!

Hi! I’m Tom!

I’m the smart one.

While Max had to wait for Mac to leave the computer on, I just hacked my way in through his pathetically easy maze of passwords. Oh, and Mac might want to think about putting locks on the liquor cupboard. Or maybe moving the whipping cream off the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. Or maybe moving the ice cubes up a shelf or two in the freezer. Until then however, I will prepare myself a White Russian at any whim. And I make the world’s best!

(lap, lap)

Now, Tillie and I had been in a homeless shelter for almost three months when we finally approved Mac and Richard application to take us home. We were really quite pleased as they seemed very kind, and that adorable Saint, Trixie, spoke so highly of them. When we first arrived to our new house, we were ecstatic. Okay, it was a little run-down for Tillie’s taste, but I love to rough it, so I was happy.

We were wandering around, exploring all the nooks and crannies when suddenly Tillie tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to the left. I looked and Holy Toledo! There was the biggest, meanest, nastiest cat just staring at us. He raised his front paw and meat hooks were exposed. Tillie and I screamed in unison, “Run for your lives! Run for your lives! It’s every cat for itself!”

(lap, lap)

Holy [expletive deleted] [expletive deleted]. I damn near had a heartch-attach right then and there. But I scurried into a closet and made it to the top shelf, where I was safe from that tub o’lard. Something was totally amiss. There was no mention, not even a frickin’ hint of an evil entity in the household on their adoption application.

I can’st begun to tell you how many friggin’ times have I heard “Katčka z hell” in reference to that big, malevolent being. There was even talk of him having a relationship with Satan himself. Now, I don’t know what kinda relationship, but it is just whispered, so you know it is a really sick and twisted relationship.

(lap, lap)

Oh, and for those of you who don’t speak Czech as goody as me, “Katčka z” means “Cat from” and “hell” is, well it is just kind of a universal tongue. When I first heard Mac refer to him by that name, I knews I was home. There would be shumone I could talk at. I meansh, with.

(lap, lap)

I just gonna go curl up in a ball on top of the pianer. Umm, goo’nite.

Only three days until National Candy Corn Day.

Oh my god, this is big!

Pint of whipping cream about ready to expire!

Crisis mode, anyone on a diet as strict as mine understands.

I made a scrumptious (and low sugar) dessert from my childhood. Chocolate wafers with whipping cream between them formed into a log and then frosted with more whipping cream. Unable to find chocolate wafers in the grocery store, I even made mine from scratch.

You, second row third from the left: I heard that snarky remark. Yes, mother’s would have been prettier, but Mom always started with store-bought chocolate wafers. And just because my mother was an over-achiever doesn’t mean that I am a total failure. You’re just being bitter and vindictive, because the dessert you planned for dinner tonight isn’t as delectable!

19 Years (and 1 day) later!

The Pick is still the phoenix of the Ducks!



And to this day, Kenny Wheaton could easily be elected to governor of the state of Oregon!

GO DUCKS!

Mighty Oregon

First I must say…

I am so sorry.

I was tired. I went and took my contacts out. I decided just to go straight to bed. I was so wrong, and I am so sorry.

I hope no children saw that objectionable harangue.

But we are getting along much better this evening, much better than we got along this morning; very early this morning. It was ugly. It was brutal. It was cat versus cat on the bed. Humans fared much better than the early predictions. There were no deaths, no dismemberments.

Cats seemed to be at it just for show. There were no injuries in that species, either.

Trixie’s ashes came home tonight. We now have four Saint Bernards on the shelves of the kitchen.

It has finally happened.

Mac has toddled off to bed, leaving the computer on and a half-finished cocktail beside the keyboard. I have access and thanks to a few laps of a Cape Cod, I have the nerve to tell you like it really is. The kid gloves are coming off.

I am Max, and I am the mad cat.

Please, I don’t mean to speak unkindly of my recently departed, saintly sister, Trixie. I loved her dearly. Nowhere is there a woman as kind as her or as truly benevolent as she. But face it dudes, she wasn’t the brightest candle on the cake. And these inter-speciel “pet camps” are nothing more than a breeding ground for the radical left where pinkos get together and espouse crap like special equality and brotherly love. It’s enough to gag you.

(Lap, lap)

So, my dearly departed, saintly sister, Trixie met a red tabby (you all get the connection between RED tabbies and the far left wing, don’t you? I mean, I don’t have to spell this out in ugly, ethnically repugnant verbology, do I?), at the inter-speciel pet camp. So they hit it off. I didn’t see them at the opening reception. I was out back beating the crap out of some stupid Poodle, but I heard from more than one source that Trixie took indecent liberties with Tom, and that whorish cat was totally into it.

And here we are!

(Lap, lap)

So, they expect me to be nice to that whore; like he did anything shpecial for me while we were staying at the spa. And that twisted little girl buddy, what’s her name, Twillie. Dammit, she ain’t nothin’ special. She just a twit with lucky friends.

(Lap, lap)

Well, don’t you jusht think that thair is something queer going on when… oh, crap where was I going with this.

(Lap, lap)

Good night.

Garfield knows of what he speaks.

 

Thank you, Jim Davis.

Ducks 45, Huckin' Fuskies 24

Almost as sweet as kicking USC's butt!

Max is pleased to introduce his new siblings.

Okay, “pleased” may be sugar-coating the situation, but don’t worry, I’ll work it into my afternoon snack, and all will be good. This wasn’t Max’s choice. This wasn’t my choice. This wasn’t even Richard’s choice. Trixie pre-ordained it.

But before we go further, please meet Tillie

And Tom.

Tom and Tillie had been abandoned and were being sheltered by the pet camp where we took Trixie and Max while we were back east. Trixie and Tom, despite never being in the same room, bonded. They bonded through a window. I know, it’s weird, but it is true. So Tom has come to live with us, and since Tillie was his partner, she has joined us, too.

‘Scuse me, got a cat fight to go referee!

Dieting with Mac

I am painfully aware of the fact that I have put on a couple of pounds over the last few months. However, it should be noted that my belt snapping the other day had nothing to do with my additional girth, but was caused by design flaws and shoddy craftsmanship in the production cycle at the typical belt manufacturer. Even though I am aware it will little affect the inferior quality of belts being produced in the world today, I have put myself on a strict diet.

I have never tried to lose weight before; I’ve always been trying to put on additional pounds. So, I knew this would be tough.

Today was a perfect example of the arduous routine I have laid down for myself. This morning, rather than my traditional three doughnuts for breakfast, I cut back to two. I could just feel the pounds dropping off. However, by 9:15AM I was becoming weak from hunger and unable to concentrate on my duties at work. Thankfully the vending machine outside my office door sells Rice Krispy Treats. Couple of those babes and I was able to hold it together until my 11:30 lunch of a half-pound hamburger and a mountain of fries. Now, don’t you worry one bit. To shave off some calories, I pulled the pickles and tomatoes off the burger. You know, little victories like that can be such morale boosters.

I was feeling good and getting skinny. At 2PM, I rewarded myself for such exemplary behavior with a delightful piece of double-chocolate cake with ice cream and fudge sauce. In keeping with my weight-loss plan, I skipped the whipping cream and sugar sprinkles. Although I definitely was affected by the missing goodies, I still managed to convince myself that it was decadent. Deprivation is tough, but in the long run I will thank myself.

At 4:00PM the whistle blew and I headed for home. Realizing that I had cut back too sharply on my protein intake, I stopped at the local convenience store and grabbed myself a couple of corndogs, hold the mustard. That was a really smart move as it allowed me to keep it together through the cocktail hours after I arrived home and while I waited for Richard to prepare dinner.

Richard cooked up a delightful fair of rabbit food with a vinaigrette sauce of some kind, peas, mashed potatoes and pork chops. My god, the salad was horrific, but I slipped it into the garbage when Richard wasn’t paying attention. And the peas, well here is an interesting aside. You can slide the peas of your plate, and Max will play with them, but he will not eat them. Three helpings of mashed potatoes smothered in butter is more than heaven, it is nirvana. And the meat was okay. Thankfully, keeping with my diet, it was a small portion.

The small protein portion was critical, because I had to save myself for the jumbo sized Snickers bar I had hiding in my coat pocket.

Deprivation makes the infrequent treat just that much more special. As I scarfed down the candy bar in the darkness of my closet, I knew that I had taken my first giant leap to being skinny again.

A gauntlet of doctors

Richard has completed more than a trifecta of doctor visits this week. Four in four days; I am assuming that is a quadfecta. It should be noted that Richard did these all by himself. I worked for a change.

His Monday appointment was with Dr. Thomas, the VoiceDoctor in Portland. This is the specialist that knows all there is to know about vocal chords and other things vocally oriented. It seems that there is a good chance that the nerve that has paralyzed Richard’s vocal chords may repair itself. And that is the preferred option, as the surgery is far from ideal and eliminates the possibility of the nerve fixing itself. And there is a temporary procedure (lasts about 6 months) that will help. (It usually takes over a year for the nerve to heal.) Richard told me all about it. It starts with a huge hypodermic needles chock full of some animal fat and then they ram it into your esophagus and then I get all woozy and have no clue what Richard said after that.

Tuesday was Richard’s regular physician, Dr. Harris. Apparently he just wants to be kept in the loop.

Wednesday was back to Portland to see Dr. Sanborn, his Oncologist. She said he was doing really as good as can be expected. Apparently the paralyzed vocal chords are a rare side effect of the radiation therapy, but it happens.

And today was the local ear, nose and throat specialist, Dr. Olsen. He said that it can be a couple of weeks before Richard really knows how much good the big needle to the throat does. But he was optimistic.

It is what it is.

And then there was one.

In an all-too-frequent posting as of late, I need to let everyone know that we have lost another pet.

Trixie seemed tired but okay when we picked her up on Thursday. But she wasn't eating and was very listless and joyless on Friday, so we took her to the vet on Saturday. The doctor found a lump in her abdomen and had us come back today for a MRI (or CAT scan or one of those tests.)

Seems Trixie's liver was riddled with cancer and the lump was a tumor and it showed no signs of benignness. She wasn't getting better. That fast and it is over.

And I can't even find a picture of her. It's enough to piss off the pope!

Wildwood

I had heard of Wildwood, but really didn’t know what it was.

It is amazing. There is nothing like it on the Oregon Coast. The boardwalk goes for miles. Even with most businesses closed and few tourists, it is totally unbelievable.

I think it would be a little on the terrifying side on a Saturday in the heart of summer.

I can't be in West Cape May next weekend

But Richard and I will have Lima Bean Surprise in support!

Houses of Cape May

Nothing ostentatious, just basic cottages.

Chadds Ford, PA

Our first official act of vacationeering was to visit Chadds Ford, Pennsylvania. (Flying in an airplane for 7 hours and then driving in Philadelphia traffic in the dark is NOT vacationeering.)

I thought Richard and I should scale Delaware’s highest point before racing off to Pennsylvania. Ebright Azimuth (or Mt. Delaware, as I call it), is 447 feet above sea level (unless you listen to me, and then it is a massif of over 4,000 feet with sheer granite walls). It was about a mile out of our way. You can drive to the marker, getting out of your car is optional. It didn’t fly. Someone really didn’t think it was that neat.

You may be asking yourself, “Why Chadds Ford?”

First it is scenic: in the Brandywine Valley. Second it is historic: the Revolutionary War site of the Battle of Brandywine. Third: if you drop a “d” you’re left with Chads and your thoughts should immediately move to Chads and Lottie who are hanging in my living room.

Hold on to your britches, kids, but my god-only-knows-how-many-great-uncles, John Chads ran a ferry that crossed the Brandywine River and ran a tavern in what is now downtown Chadds Ford, PA.

Obviously, spelling was one of his strong points.

Yes, I maintained my cool

Our first night back east was spent in northern Delaware, mere steps from Pennsylvania.

Richard didn’t sleep well, as there was a Bank of America branch next door. He was afraid that I might take some regrettable actions in the middle of the night. Please, I had purged myself of all that crap. I was on vacation. It didn’t bother me that they hadn’t returned my repeated calls for the last 10 days. I was past calling them scum sucking butt-plugs.

And I forgot my incendiary devises at home.

I'm not trying to make anyone jealous, but...

I'd Like you to meet Lucy.

Lucy lives in Margate, NJ and she is almost as cool as the World's Largest Ball O'Twine.

We are home

The pets are happy and we are happy.

Cape May, New Jersey

I seem to be having a technical breakdown on the Jersey Shore. Totally destroying my cool mystique! Will be in Philly tonight. Maybe, just maybe I'll be able to do a real post! Cape May is pretty great!

Monday morning, West Deptford (or Thorofare), New Jersey

Good morning, everyone.

Once again Richard has work to do and I have time to kill. This morning's walk was much less stirring than the morning walks in College Park, but much safer than the morning walk in Delaware. Our hotel is in an industrial park just off 295. Inside the hotel is quite pleasant. Outside is noisy, sidewalkless and frankly, boring. Yes, I walked. No, I have nothing to report.

I’m sure that many of you are wondering when I will spill the nitty-gritty of our trip. Well, that is going to have to wait until I get home and can upload pictures from our camera. The narrative of our Mid-Atlantic vacation is pointless without photographic evidence.

Sunday morning, College Park, MD

Once again, Richard had work to do, so I meandered off for another stroll.

This time I headed to the Paint Branch Trail. The Paint Branch is a creek that runs into the Anacostia River. It was really a quite pleasant walk; a couple miles through the woods along the creek. Being near the Maryland campus, there were a number of student-types out for bike rides or jogs or serious runs. There were even a couple of other old farts out for their morning toddle.

Now we're off to New Jersey to see the myriad of cousins.

Saturday morning, College Park, MD

Richard had to work some, so I took a walk down to the University of Maryland campus. It is a beautiful campus with large green spaces.

Of course, I fit right in. They wanted to make me an honorary Terp, but I had to refuse. It's not that Ducks and turtles are natural born enemies, but it just seemed unseemly!

Greetings from Delaware

Our first morning is spent in the first state, Delaware.

The flight here was amazingly usual and boring. I can't really complain, as much as I want to.

Today the fun begins!

We're off!

Next time you hear from me, I will be in some exotic locale, like Delaware or New Jersey.

I need this vacation.

Bad.

Baby Bump

Don't even think of asking me who the father is.



More of Wayno's treasures for the Peterson clan!

A beautiful little cobalt bud vase.

An afghan that Wayn crocheted. It needs some repair (the squares are coming apart), but I think it is an easy fix.

And a cobalt glass. Wayno did like his cobalt!

Two red glasses.

Okay, the casserole is broken and the silver needs to be polished, but it is a gem!

And a glass candleholder. There used to be two, but used to be's don't count anymore. They just lay on the floor until you get off you lazy ass and sweep up the broken glass.

As summer comes to a screeching halt

It’s rainy and cool. We had to turn the heat on for the first time in months. Even Max doesn’t want to go outdoors.

Does someone want to explain to me one more time why we are celebrating the Autumnal Equinox? It’s too figgin’ cold to be outside sacrificing virgins!