Driving Notes

AARP offers a safe driving course for its members. I'd been putting off taking it, even though it gives me a whopping $49 off my annual insurance premium. For three years - are you more impressed now?

From having driven commercially for 29 years, somewhere around 2 million miles, and being required to take defensive driving courses every two years - which never changed except for the person teaching them - I doubted I had anything to gain from signing up except some nebulous unknown discount. The big stuff was indelibly engraved in my brain ; avoid head-on collisions by going right, aim for a bush rather than a tree if given a choice, follow the 2-second rule for distance, adding a second for each complicating factor like a motorcycle or bad weather. There was the refresher for rules of the road, like signs and who yields when, and the vehicle check before getting in.

That last I mostly ignored as well, since my cars told me if tires were low, they were always mostly new and didn't leak, plus I checked the pavement as I backed out of wherever, and was dedicated to proper tire replacements, and maintaining oil changes which got me regular notices of what fluids needed topping off about every 2-3 weeks. By driving that many miles, I got a feel for each vehicle and could tell if tires were getting low by how they rode, as well, after a few years, as to which noise meant what. I could take my car in and tell the mechanic what was wrong with it. Once my regular mechanic quit, the series of strangers receiving my car ignored what I was telling them was wrong, but came back with the information that the problem was whatever I'd said it was. But hey, just a girl, right?

A couple months ago I finally signed up for AARP's course, online and with 60 days to complete, easy to get through, and offering all the opportunity anybody would need to repeat any part of it, whether a page or a chapter, even the whole thing.

It was worth it. I was surprised. Sure, the first bits were repeats of defensive driving lessons, though the 2 second rule was changed to 3 seconds. Reasonable enough. Then came the lessons on what kind of things are in new cars these days. I don't plan to ever buy one, but rear backing views, preemptive braking, and occasional audio map directions, now that those systems are more right than wrong, might prove beneficial. I might also consider something with a seat that keep me high enough I can see the curbs before/as I turn. Maybe.

The most helpful parts were on changes as we age. After I got over laughing at the people scared of driving at highway speeds or anywhere near a semi, and telling myself I cured all snow/ice issues by moving to Arizona, I settled down and found out what to look for in myself which could in the future cause safety issues behind the wheel. I probably ought to stop putting off that yearly eye exam (due to covid - now that masks are required by all in doctor's offices here) and check my peripheral vision and whether it's changing. Are all those drivers who appear out of nowhere as crazy as I think they are? Well, sure, but do I need to pay more attention due to my eyes or their bad habits?

The answer is, as always, "Yes."

An extra note here. I took Rich to a place he need to be this morning. Part of the route is undergoing repaving. Today. I find I am perfectly capable of registering consciously that fact, and still wonder after a few blocks what is wrong with my car making it smell like something's overheating?

Another extra note: During the garage sale, my low tire pressure light came on. A quick visual check informed me it was drive-able for setting out the signs, but later that day It took it in for air, one of those free top-ups offered with my oil changes, requesting they let me know which tire was  low so I could keep an extra eye on it. The result was, "All of them were down 2 pounds." He went on to explain that it was the result of the high pressure we were having.

OK. The high pressure would be pushing on the outside of my tires, squeezing them, thus making them raise their pressure, trying to find a way to escape. Their size would be different, but we weren't checking size. Now I can get failing physics or not even taking it in the first place, and settling for a job putting things in automobiles for close to minimum wage. Somebody has to do that. But with filling tires as part of that job, how do you get air pressure exactly wrong? After all, you push on something, it pushes back, with as much pressure it already had to push back with. When there are leaks, it doesn't push back quite as hard because there isn't as much for pushing. Now if we want to talk air temperature as a cause.... But it's not winter down here, so there's no excuse but a very slow leak to account for the low tire pressure.

Shooting Down Michele Bachmann

 I had the "pleasure" - nay, just the experience - of living in Minnesota while she was in the legislature, making a very ... mmm ... distinctive name for herself, and getting reelected anyway. When there was an LGBT protest (for gay marriage?) on the state capitol steps, she was photographed hiding in the bushes nearby to spy on whatever horrible things she thought they might be planning.

On another occasion, when a woman wished to ask her a question while both were in the restroom, Bachmann ran out screaming that she had been sexually assaulted by the woman. The claim was quickly debunked.

She paraded her religious views as part of her qualifications for office in the extreme right wing back then. Nowadays it's not quite that unusual, but still far right. She made for herself a reputation for being ridiculous to those on the left, and apparently is still maintaining it.

Yesterday I heard a clip of her  defending Trump's view of how this election is going to be "stolen" by people bringing in extra ballots to sway the result. Here's her explanation, as well as I can recall. Supposedly hundreds of thousands of ballots are going to be printed in "evil" countries like China. From there they will be shipped via other countries yet unknown into this country, there to sit in places like Minnesota barns while waiting to be used. Bad actors in charge of tallying ballots will decide they need 40-some thousand of them brought in to tip the vote away from Trump and the decided-upon number will be brought over from the barn and added to the ballot piles.

OK, I know a thing or two about Minnesota elections. (As should she!) First, there is no precinct anywhere in the state where 40-some thousand ballots can be slipped into the count unnoticed. And it's the precincts which EACH have their own individual ballot. One single paper ballot covers every election from the national level down to the precinct level. A precinct will be anything from a township to a small town or up, where the most significant office to be filled covers all those particular voters. 

Take Shafer, for example. I mean the city, not the township. I personally sat out the post-election counting of several elections' worth of ballots for the city of around a thousand humans, not voters, at its highest by the time I left. Mayor, council members, and everything at higher levels - county, state, national  all were on a single piece of paper, distinct from every other precinct's ballots. Nobody could possible "sneak in" more than a handful of ballots, even if there were some foreign country who would bother to identify each ballot from each precinct and print such limited amounts of each. Besides, the election judges marked each voter's name on the registration rolls, and the counts had to match.

In Arizona, my ballot outer envelope is given a distinctive bar code which identifies me. Not 2003 other people also. Just me. My filled in ballot goes into that big green envelope to be mailed back in, since I am on the Permanent Early Voters List down here, and that happens for every election. When my ballot reaches the site where it's counted, before opening it the sealed envelope is run under a barcode reader, links to a copy of my typical signature to compare to what's on my envelope, and only when approved as coming from me does it get opened and the ballot sent to where it gets counted. A digital record is kept stating that my ballot was received, found to be mine, and added to those to be counted. I can go online or even make a phone call to verify it got there and was counted.

I have a son who was an election judge in Minnesota, and a good friend who was an election judge here in Arizona. Both know their respective systems, and both trust the protocols, which include right from the top that there be representatives from both major political parties serving as election judges and ensuring the process. I trust our voting systems in both states.

Years ago Minnesota had a senate race, Franken vs. Coleman. Early results put them about 300 ballots apart, Coleman ahead. That close, the state legally requires a recount. All ballots were brought to the capitol, lawyers from both sides looked over the shoulders of those counting, and the whole process was videotaped and aired live. We all could see why certain ballots were rejected, such as voting for both men at the same time, or adding identifying marks to the ballot which might be used to prove one voted for some candidate for a reward. Some which were previously tossed out by the machines due to a voter both checking the printed name and also writing-in the same name in were deemed admissible.  After months, the contest was declared by a few hundred votes in favor of Franken, the Democrat, and he was finally sent to Washington. 

(For those who don't know, the five months between Franken coming in and Ted Kennedy leaving due to his brain tumor were the ONLY months that the Democrats had a majority of the Senate which could fully support Obama. Those who claimed Obama was weak because he had two years of Democratic control are either ignorant or lying. Just saying.)

But back to Bachmann now. Let's look at the idiocy about storing ballots in barns. I know a thing or two about Minnesota barns.  They aren't just walls, hay, and boxes. Even if typical farm animals live elsewhere, like cows, sheep, horses, pigs, and whatever, along with their fragrant and flagrant messes, lots of other things reside in the barn. Like mice. A plethora of bugs. Pigeons and/or other birds. Spiders. In other words, a whole bunch of critters which will use their various capabilities and appetites to get in to those boxes, chew nests and tunnels, leave filth, and otherwise ruin most anything stored there for more than a couple days, while having a grand old time doing it. Perhaps you have to be Michele Bachmann to buy into that part of her story.

But then she wouldn't be Michele Bachmann without a huge dose of ridiculousness, would she?

So, folks, just get out there and vote, will ya? Or stay home and vote. Either way. VOTE!!!!

Observational Tidbits

I went to the pool yesterday, and after fortifying myself with water, ibuprofin for my ankle, and a few carbs, I managed my full hour. Yes, tired after, but not exhausted. Best part, no bugs chomping on me for as long as I lasted. (Yes, better, not gone, at home.)

I noted three different men at the pool. The first was perhaps fifty-ish, reasonably fit, and came with a woman I'll assume is his wife or partner. (These days if you're not already paired, there's that little hitch of social distancing.) Anyway, he arrived in tennis shoes. In order to take them off, he leaned against a pillar, standing on one leg, and struggled. I did note a handful of empty chairs nearby where he could have sat for the process, but.... Who was he trying to impress? Himself? Or might I have to rethink the relationship I presumed with his pool partner?

I noticed him again before he left, putting his shoes back on, sitting down in one of those chairs this time. Guess he got over himself. He'd only been sitting in the spa pool for about 10 minutes, so I doubted it was exhaustion.

Next, a bit later, was a portly gentleman with an amazing headfull of white hair, practically running his walking laps, even through the deeper water. How did he get the energy? Should I mentally congratulate him on his energy and stamina or wonder what he was taking these days? If I'm to last my full hour the pace is steady and somewhat slow. For the 20 or so minutes he was there, he lapped me three times.

The last man of note rolled in on a scooter, parking it about 3 feet from the steps into the walking pool. He looked to be approaching or into his 90s, and it was a very slow entrance to the pool, though he picked up his speed once in the water. I lapped him a few times, even though I noted he took a few shortcuts, using the breaks in the dividing walls separating the parts of the serpentine pattern laid out in the pool. I use those too, but these days only to move myself away from being either behind or ahead of a cluster of people going a different speed than I prefer and whose clustering prevents my distancing at safe levels. Sure, they're wearing masks since that's a requirement to use the pool, but that virus thing is all a hoax, doncha know. Get closer, I can't hear you.

The previous visit to the pool, I'd overheard bits of a cluster conversation about somebody who'd recovered from a mild dose of the virus but now had all kinds of medical problems and the doctors were trying to figure out what they all were and how to help him. Now if we could have combined those two clusters....

Irony could have been recognized? 

The center staff might have noticed people weren't social distancing as required?

Once this elderly gentleman climbed tortuously out of the pool (yeah, I've been there), he rode his scooter about 20 feet to the top of the stairs down into the spa pool. It occurred to me later that he'd not taken his required shower before entering the pool in the first place. Did anybody else notice? Care? With all the chlorine, did I even care?

I opened up this laptop this morning in preparation for blogging, stopping for a weather check first as I usually do. Wheee! Windows opened for a few minutes yet.

On the weather page are ads. Kinda like every other page, right? The one which caught my eye was captioned, "Realistic Game For Men Over 50." I might have been interested enough to check out what they thought they meant either by "realistic" or targeting the older demographic, since that would be both unique and long overdue, had I not seen the photo accompanying this claim. It showed a woman, of course. She wore enough clothing to let you know she wasn't completely naked, had a figure only available in fantasies, held a flaming snake wrapped around one arm, the other arm holding a staff with a winged dragon for its top, coincidentally also breathing a string of fire winding around behind her and over to the snake. The background looked like ancient Roman ruins before they became ruins, barely more than shadows lest they might distract from all the realism of the game.

I guess the (wood?) (metal?) part of the staff could be considered realistic? Kinda doubt that would be why any man might want to play that game, however.

Garage Sale Lessons

I don't want you to believe all these lessons had not been learned before the sale yesterday. Some were learned long ago by others and shared. Or attempted to be in a few cases. Let's just say we all trust that next sale will be... Great! And with better weather than 104 by noon.

Don't have it for only half a day, the only reasonable response to extreme heat. This basically translates to skipping AZ summers altogether.  Since summer here lasts as long as winters in Minnesota, that leaves about half a year to hold sales.

Don't wait to set up until the day before.  A week seems more feasible. Especially in the heat you didn't avoid.

While gathering items for sale, remember to put prices on them as soon as they are gathered and any cleaning or other preparation is completed.

Provide a "Covid Station" for shoppers, with hand sanitizer, bleach wipes, and masks to those who can't be responsible for themselves and the safety of others. (Do I sound snarky? How perceptive. Let's see if we're all still doing this a year from now, shall we?)

Locate tables, boxes and whatever other raised surfaces you can for smaller items well ahead of time, as well as clothes racks, jewelry stands, and any other specialty display items.

Have at least two people for the sale, one for the money and the other for questions, helping carry, personal breaks, etc.

Be sure to get to the bank at least a day before the sale for change. Get more than you think you need.

Don't stack one item for sale on top of another item for sale, using the second as a pedestal, rendering it invisible. Or bury sale items for any other reason.

Have signs made up well ahead. Make sure the arrows are large. Have plenty of packing tape to fix sign to boxes - masking or other tapes won't stick to cardboard more than two minutes - and scout locations for best customer attention ahead of time. For each box set out, bring along a rock to place inside so it won't blow away. Something ugly doesn't invite theft, so keep the pretty rocks at home. Broken concrete works well enough.

If this is going to be a recurring event, arrange for leftover items to have compact, organized storage or arrange for it to be off-site. Patience is shorter each time a sale looms and stacks of junk swarm over the household. 

A Penny Tip For Lindsey?

I'm tempted - though it's a bit of work - to send Senator Lindsey Graham a penny tip. He's trying to raise campaign money right now, whining that he's being out spent and out raised, and behind his opponent. This, in practically the same sentence as saying he's going to shove thorough the Justice Committee whomever tRump proposes to do the impossible and fill Ruth Bader Ginsburg's shoes as a justice on the supreme court.

Yeah, good luck with that goal, whoever you are. Those shoes will never be filled!

But Lindsey says he's going to push the nomination forward. Just like he said a bit ago that he wouldn't do so, letting the person elected for the next term as President pick the nominee, the same rationale the Republicons used to steal a nomination from the black guy, and we could hold on to the tape where he said it. It was held, and I watched it. Repeatedly. Likely you did too this last week. 

Lindsey has a legacy, a very long history of flip flopping on... everything. The last time he had any core values, they were borrowed from John McCain. Now that we've lost McCain, Lindsey is just another tRump puppet. (tRumpuppet?) And because that hasn't exactly worked well for him, he's now whining about needing more campaign money. (Does he think we believe he'll be any less bought and paid for by the big money interests if he convinces us to contribute our little amounts? I mean, Lindsey? Seriously? Lindsey?)

But we were "mean" to Kavanaugh when he lied his way through the Senate to his confirmation. No, those several times were never rape, the witnesses all lied, and... did you know he likes beer? Actually, I truly believe the bit about beer. But Lindsey was offended that Kavanaugh was questioned about the facts and witnesses were actually called. How dare they?!! So it's time to "get even"? And he needs more money?

I go back a long ways, to when one of the few jobs a young female could get was as a waitress. You learn about tips real fast if you want to survive in that position. And a single penny traditionally speaks very loudly in tipping. It you place it on top of your normal tip, it proclaims your service was excellent, your customer well pleased. 

But when you leave just one solitary penny as a tip, you tell your waitress that yes, you are a person who tips, but the service really sucked! So I'm seriously considering a penny tip for Lindsey. It'll go out the same time I send a larger check to Jaime Harrison.

Not Stopping

What's not stopping? All of it, it seems. 

The bed bugs aren't completely gone. Among other things, I discovered I have shorts with thick fabric in multiple layers over thick elastic, all of which never quite dry in the dryer, and thus don't heat up enough to kill the buggers. Better, yes. Gone, no. I did remove all the clean clothes from my drawers and take them to the local laundromat for a long hot dry cycle, then seal them in bags so I don't have to keep repeating this. Major house spraying will need repeating, of course.

 There's a pandemic out there, and the stupidity and stubbornness and determination to spread it as far as possible  - yes, I'm saying it's purposeful - haven't stopped. I still don't care if you don't care if you die. I still do care how much you spread the damn thing, so WEAR YOUR BLOODY MASKS!!!

The economy is fubar, partly from tRump's "policies" and partly from the pandemic. Unless, of course, you're one of those folks with lots invested in the stock market who are making millions off other's misery. Ever notice how often the one follows the other? When the poor get desperate enough they'll work for nearly  nothing so the corporations can rake in huge profits and divert them to their shareholders... another book for another time.

Intimidation of voters isn't stopping, but rather ramping up. Virginia just opened their early voting locations and already the Magats are out with signs attempting to block entry, as well as driving crazily through the parking lots to scare anybody away from leaving their cars to go inside. More will surely come - both intimidation and voters. We need to stand strong in this everybody, make your plans  for how to be sure you vote and it gets counted.

Last I heard, around 70% of Americans support the right to abortion. Whether you want one or not, you believe others have the right to chose for themselves and their circumstances, frequently life threatening. You don't believe in forced birtherism - the real name for pro-life, since those proponents seldom care for those lives the second they start breathing. The Senate will quickly take up the appointment of tRump's latest nomination to the Supreme Court - you know that guy who knows "all the best people" - a complete about face on what they professed to believe when stopping Merrick Garland's appointment because ... lies, lies, lies, and naked power grab. How many women will now die? That's the bottom line here, along with racism and the fear that white folks are being outnumbered by breeding less that the brown ones do and that's somehow terrible. Go ahead and rape them, force them to give birth, and make sure the rapists have rights to the kids.

What? Haven't you been paying attention to all those little incremental legal changes?

Obviously, the stress is not stopping. I just spoke yesterday with someone who does follow news and politics, and is now taking - and increasing her dose - of Prozac because of how extreme things are getting. This person is highly rational, well informed activist, has a great circle of supportive friends and family, and is doing her best to find a way to cope with what is going on in the world she lives in. 

There just aren't many breaks, chances to stop and relax, feel you can contribute to changes, return to your center. I've been lucky enough to have found a few. 

I finally returned to the pool. They are actually keeping the people to a small enough number that social distancing is possible. Some people will walk together, but the one's I've seen walk in are already together, so likely in the same household. Masks are required. As long as I feel safe there, I will continue, as this is my one guaranteed respite from the bugs. Sooooooooooo nice!

I manage to keep blogging for part of my stress reduction plan. But it doesn't work for everyone. Rich, for example, doesn't blog. So I found another break for him, though I practically had to stuff him in the car to do so. It was after his second day of spraying the house in depth, this time the living room. There was nearly no place in the house to get away from the chemicals, certainly none comfortable when you're not sleeping. Since the furniture was super saturated, and we needed to avoid it while it was still wet, it was time for a drive.

I took a large triangle route, around 72 miles. First we went northwest along Hwy. 60 nearly to Wickenburg.. Hwy. 74 joins it there and takes you back east to the 17, should you care to go that far. I didn't.  About two miles shy of there we cut south a bit to the 303, heading back into civilization and home. It wasn't just driving bug and chemical free and in good AC. Along 74 that whole way it was the scenery: low mountains, desert vegetation, critters. Most of it is a reserve around Lake Pleasant. We didn't see the lake, as any spot close enough to do so costs money. I did, however, inform Rich of the time Steve and I drove through and spied the herd of protected burros, right after foaling season when we saw two white babies. Despite other traffic, we found a spot to pull over to watch them, as did a few other vehicles.

Eyes peeled, we mostly saw plants and hills, plus a few vehicles whose drivers firmly believed in their right to pass on a curved hilly road in order to fulfill their mandate to surpass the speed limit by about 15 mph. There was one roadrunner who appreciated our legal speed enough to show off his own speed in crossing right in front of us. We could tell when we were in burro country because suddenly the dead grasses and small bushes were uniformly cropped to about 12" in height. 

We kept our eyes peel sharper.

After passing Pleasant Lake and turning off 74 to head south, I finally gave up hunting for any burros. Just then, hind feet on the pavement, front on a small dirt rise, and teeth busy in a bush, an actual burro! Not the herd, just one, but still, after all that wait, Rich got to see one.

He named him Eeyore on the spot. I couldn't disagree, as even with a mouthful, he did look kinda depressed. I guess I would be too if I had to wear a hairy coat out in full sun at 109 degrees and all I got to eat was mostly dead bushes and dead grass, with none of my buddies around and having to depend on the good steering of strangers.

Lucky for me there was mint chip ice cream at home! And People! And 81 degrees! Shade! Shorts! And temporarily, no biting crawling bugs!

(They were hiding in my pajamas, and in my ....)

RIP RBG

I was hoping not to have to write that title for another 6 months or so. At least until we got Trump out of the White House. Obama was robbed of a choice for justice thanks to Moscow Mitch, holding that nomination as well as hundreds of bills passed by the House on his desk. I'm pretty sure he'll be fair and let this opening go to the next President, right?

Yeah, I didn't think so either. The drool is already running down his chin.

Ruth, you were tiny in stature but a giant in life and your contributions to this country. You will certainly not be replaced in kind, particularly from anyone in that list of incompetent ass-lickers on the list Trump just couldn't wait for your passing to display  to the world.

It was your continuing survival despite your fight with pancreatic cancer which kept our hopes for some balance and sanity in this country alive.

When you -yes you, reading this - wonder why you should regularly do your single most important civic duty by going out to cast an informed vote,  IT'S THE SUPREME COURT, STUPID!!!

 I'm going to take some time to go mourn now.

I'm Still Thinking About A Title Here....

The sound of the garbage truck woke me up this morning. I'd forgotten to plug my alarm clock back in and set it since I was so exhausted yesterday, but they show up about 5:30 AM these days. It's a compromise between heat (109 forecast) and daylight. I tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but realized I wasn't all that tired, after all, and today was going to be another day of hard work in the house. May as well start.

Yesterday was truly exhausting. I mentioned that, didn't I? Rich and I went totally over two bedrooms with a new spray chemical for bedbugs - has good reports about effectiveness, and reasonably people/pet -friendly as soon as it's dry, just shower after applying - and a follow-up with new diatomaceous earth. We took practically everything apart, did loads of more laundry, hit all the baseboards, behind pictures and furniture, soaked rugs and dresser covers, and relocated electronics temporarily. (Hence the clock.)

There was a moment in Steve's room where I thought I  might be hallucinating about a spot on the ceiling moving.  We were at the end of spraying, we thought, and I was willing to believe anything. I watched it a few seconds. Nothing. I turned to ask Rich and there it went again. This time he saw it too. So we - OK, he - even sprayed the ceiling, including the rim of the cover plate where the fan attaches.

Then there was shutting doors till everything dried, going back in later to open windows, noting a plethora of new dead bugs futilely trying to have escaped.

My room was even more interesting. We'd been a little blase about trying to get behind all the built-ins along the wall the bed butts up to first time around. Not this time! Uff da! All those large save-the-planet plastic shopping bags got repurposed into holding clothes from the drawers. The bagged blankets from the first go-round got their bags carefully examined. All but one passed with flying colors - clear is a color? - and that one got everything physically removed. And yes, eggs are large enough to be seen, not to mention being tan against a bright white zipper. Nothing left was alive, but taking no chances.

Every break we got, Rich slept. I sat and watched TV or read. 

By 8 PM we were able to put the beds back together and make them. Just in time to collapse into them, after yet another shower, having been out and about - OK, mostly sitting, big time - in the untreated part of the house. But I was able to sleep in my own bed again with complete confidence that there would be no bites in the nights. 

But for how many? Fingers crossed. Supposed to be a two week residual....

This morning there was more garbage to take out. With a new supply of energy, I decided it was time to remove the dying foliage from the birthday bouquet Steve had delivered. The pink roses, ferns, earliest orange lilies, and unknown but fragrant purple somethings needed to go. Luckily it still left more lilies, some unknown green things, red freesias, and different unknown purple things. After that, there'll be a vase big enough to be a canister.

Big mess of foliage, full bag for the garbage can. When I took it out, I saw both a line of ants across the driveway, reminding me of the rotting strawberries I'd thrown out, and a still full can! A call to the garbage company secured the promise of a work order for another truck to come by and empty our can. Which, incidentally, now has three more bags in it. (See? Busy. Sidewalk and driveway swept too, except near the ants.) Hopefully the overhead costs will get whoever skipped our house a bit of a lesson coming down from on high. Those trucks are fuel hogs. Their usual procedure is to stop the truck two or three times a block, send 4 guys out running with huge wheeled cans, emptying our garbage into them along with neighbors' garbage, and loading it all into the truck when it pulls up for its next stop, normally very efficient. 

Except for the human staff. We have offered them bottled water on occasion when they're here. They didn't turn it down.

So. I've been busy. Mostly killing time waiting for Steve to get up so we can organize the living room schedule for its spraying. Yesterday I had no idea we'd be so ambitious with the first two bedrooms, so I also emptied the areas around the chairs and couch of electronics, food and dishes, miscellaneous crap.... And of course, in the process of not actually getting to them yesterday, electronics, food and miscellaneous mysteriously reinhabited those spaces.

Sigh....

We have developed a plan for that bit where we have to exit the living room area today while spray dries. A phone call from an acquaintance introduced us to a possible (grain of salt here) "real" deli close to us. We've been looking for one down here. We miss Cecil's in St. Paul, down on the south end of Snelling Avenue, Highland Park neighborhood. Phoenix downtown is not desirable, nor are others even further. This one is supposed to be about a mile and a half away. The plan is to do the living room early and hit the deli for lunch. Maybe take a drive out of the metro for a while, go see some desert. Maybe find something not burning.

Of course, we'll see how exhausted the driver is this time, eh? Hmmm, maybe there'll even be another bag for the garbage by the time they get here?

Felt So Good

I went back to the pool tonight. Well, 5:20, if that counts as night. It was before supper, I admit. I finally decided I'd been putting it off for long enough, though thoroughly prepared to walk out if I didn't feel safe.

It turned out to be the perfect time. For the half hour I was there, winding through the walking course, there were never more than 5 others in that part of the pool. The air temperature was still close to 100, a light breeze wafted by to clear virus away, the fire smoke had thinned enough to show a bit of blue and a yellow sun, the sun was low enough I wasn't needing to avoid it and the after-work and after-supper crowd hadn't arrived - if they still do these days. I don't know. I wasn't going to stick around to find out.

I lasted for half an hour of continuous walking. Last year I was doing an hour, but I've done pretty much nothing lately. Three laps were all it took for my ankle to remind me it hadn't improved, but it didn't get worse as I continued. Nor did I get exhausted, as I'd thought I might after such an absence. Best of all, absolutely nothing - NOTHING! - was crawling on me, biting me, reminding me that bugs outrank us in the animal kingdom.

My mask, when I left the pool, was almost wet enough from me exhaling to be wrung out, but not bad enough to hinder inhaling. I breathed through it enough to support the exercise just fine, thank you. And a whiff of chlorine accompanies me around on my skin, possibly the cause of keeping the bugs at bay for an additional three hours.

Yeah, the bugs remain. I finally gave in and picked up some more chemicals to kill them off - at least what we can hit with the stuff. There's also a residual, but a need to repeat in two weeks, and again as long as they last, but there should be respites if we apply it judiciously enough. And more diatomaceous earth will be going down as well, covering more thoroughly than before. (Oh, and there's a large surge surplus of rubbing alcohol in the house right now. It kills on contact but only if there's contact. Turns out the bugs are wise to that.)

This stuff is better than what I bought before. First, a larger container rather than small cans, so better cost, and a hand control and hose applicator rather than aerosol requiring the can to always point up leaving you to miss the under sides of things. Several sites I've found recommend this particular one as the best stuff on the market right now. We can spray beds or furniture all over and return to the room as soon as it dries and it is people-safe and pet-safe. 

Not that we have any pets, unless you count the latest sighting of our sometimes-resident lizard yesterday. The bed bugs may argue the point too, but we'll be doing our best to disabuse them of that fixation.

But oh, the pool! Is tomorrow too soon to return?

Still? No Masks?

We all know by now  that masks are the one thing most helpful in preventing caronavirus exposure when out in public. 

Everybody living in Maricopa County, AZ, should also know that there is a county-wide ordinance requiring masks in public, even if our Governor won't make it state wide.

Fry's Grocery, as well as many other stores, has a large sign as you enter letting you know that masks are required except for babies, and the PA system regularly repeats this.

So who's the first person I see when I enter the store last night? You got it. Another jerk with no mask. I asked him where his mask was. Rather loudly, of course, just to be sure I could be clearly heard through my own mask.

He took two seconds to raise his eyes from his smartphone and answered, "In the car."

Like that helps. I'm sure his car is perfectly healthy. And I - of course - expressed the fact that that location was perfectly useless. He didn't care. Of course not. If he had, the mask would already been over his face.

I complained to the first employee I saw after that. He insisted they had no authority to send people back out until they returned wearing a mask. Baloney! It's a private business. And a legal ordinance.  You'd send people back out if they walked in with lit fireworks, right? Or vomiting all over the floor, right? Or sans shirt an shoes, right, 'cause, you know, open produce and health laws and all that. No, all you care about is the few dollars in profit his visit might bring, just in case he didn't want to return after getting his mask out of the car.

I told the employee that I think I'll be doing a lot more shopping at WalMart in the future. Around here, at least, they only have one entrance open (thank goodness my knees are fixed!) and one to three employees checking for  masks.

* * * * *

Trump is campaigning back to 2016 style, large rallies in big cities. (Well, he's still lying, and asking other countries for help too, but this one's about masks.) His last one was held inside, and while a few photo ops showed masks, unofficial private shots showed the opposite, along, of course, with shouting, chanting trumpanzees. Let's get them droplets airborne, folks!

When a reporter asked one fan why he wasn't wearing a mask, he self-importantly announced that he wasn't afraid to die.

I have a response to you too, Mr. Not Afraid To Die:  I don't give a flying crap whether you die either. Go right ahead. It's what you're asking for. I just care how many other people you spread it to while you're busy self-righteously not caring. I care about whether they will die. And what your kids share in school. And what their classmates take home. And how many of all those people will die, or be saddled with extreme medical bills. And how many healthcare workers....

* * * * *

Remember back when I mentioned there's something hinky about our case numbers, that those in our zipcode have been bouncing rather than progressing? Well, it's still happening. It's a total of nine cases dropped now. Just in this zip code. Just in the numbers dropping down. Who can tell if numbers are simply not added in the first place? I can't believe this is happening only in this one zipcode, that somehow somebody singled out Sun City for whatever is going on. I just happen to be tracking and recording the daily changes in ours. 

I bet whoever is doing whatever also isn't counting on somebody being this anal about keeping track. Ya think?

I also notice that our statistics have been dropping at quite a nice rate in this state for new cases. I also note that Johns Hopkins has different - higher - numbers than the state puts out, in terms of our percentages of cases versus testing, the number need to justify reopening businesses and schools. Our CBS station gives both sets. Worldometer gives even higher ones, and experts say that with the lack of testing the numbers of cases are still way higher in actual fact.

It's hard to know who/what to believe, though I have less trust in those with a political agenda behind their numbers. What I do trust is the idea that wearing a mask and social distancing are still necessary!

"Sing Gently"

This is for all of you who didn't get the email I sent. Or those who did  and then lost the link. It's also for me so I never lose this link:

This is Eric Whitacre's "Sing Gently". It is performed by his Virtual choir #6. 17,572 singers from 129 countries come together to perform it. I've included the lyrics because this song is not only hauntingly beautiful but is sung so gently they may be hard to make out. I hope you find it as beautiful and peaceful as I do. Note each dot on the screen is an individual person singing.

Eric Whitacre's Virtual Choir 6: Sing Gently

Eric Whitacre's Virtual Choir 6: Sing Gently

May we sing together, always.

May our voice be soft.

May our singing be music for others

and may it keep others aloft.

Sing gently, always.

Sing gently as one.

May we stand together, always.

May our voice be strong.

May we hear the singing and

May we always sing along.

Sing gently, always.

Sing gently as one.

            – Eric Whitacre

A New Step In The Bedbug Wars

Did I mention they're still around? 

 And HUNGRY?

 I'm no longer sleeping in my own bed. Mostly, however, because half the world is stacked on top of it. That's on Richard. The bugs were getting so bad I'd wake up every few hours, turn on the lights, hunt, squish and flush, multiples at a time. I'd learned to fake them out before I went to bed by going in a few times after dark, turning on the lights so I could see them out and about, and after clearing the top of the bed, sitting on it, jiggling it around, doing whatever I could to convince them their meal had arrived. Then I left them in the dark for a bit again.

It worked. But I was still outnumbered. So Richard pulled out the drawers, emptied them onto the top of the bed, and took the drawers outside. Then the old diatomacious earth was removed and a fresh layer applied around the eddges of the floor and bed. And there it all sits.

Time for more research. I rediscovered something I'd spaced the first time I read about it: rubbing alcohol. 70 %. Kills on contact, harmless  to humans, cheap. OK, scratch that last. Also scratch anything you may be thinking about availability. Reason? Uh, have you forgotten the pandemic already? Apparently the rest of the world hasn't. At least now it's available, and without a 6-week wait for delivery. But cheap? Not so much. I ordered some anyway.

Steve started complaining about bugs reestablishing themselves in his bed and his lift chair. Linens got laundered, diatomacious earth spread around again. A day of peace resulted. Luckily the alcohol also arrived, and Rich had a spritzer bottle for it. He also dug out what was left in the two old cans of bug killer we'd started out using. 

My turn. Taking advantage of our two (!) days of 2-digit temperatures, I started out with the killer remnants, also wearing mask and goggles just as we do with the earth dusting. I'm not sure how much was still effective, but I was unable to smell any of it. Still, the front door was opened, the AC off, and everybody else elsewhere. Once the cans ran out, I filled the alcohol spritzer (5 times!), tilted his chair in every way possible, and nailed every reachable inch of upholstery, including pushing parts out of the way with one hand while spraying with the other.

Whew! And stink! It was so strong that Rich walked in about an hour later and immediately did a U-turn for fresher air. 

Steve got out a clean sheet to cover his chair with before sitting in it. No sign of a bite yet from there, and it's been 3 days.

I did a lesser treatment of my chair, but followed that up by spritzing my chair every morning before sitting in it, and any time I start feeling them  moving, either crawling up inside my shorts legs, or down from the neckline of my tops.

I know. Nasty! Creepy!

I even spritz myself on the feet and legs sometimes, and while I can't see them, I stop feeling them. I'm taking that as a win. If only I could get my own back!

I said I'm not sleeping in my own bed. But at least I'm actually getting solid sleep again. I gave the living room couch the same alcohol treatment I gave Steve's chair, with the bonus of being able to remove cushions rather than tipping it in all directions. It's wet when I get in it, and still stinks for half an hour or so, but I'm getting sleep. And I repeat the spraying every evening, particularly if Steve has come out and decided to sit on it instead of in his chair. Those bugs do hitchhike, particularly in their tiniest form.

I also ordered 3 more gallons of rubbing alcohol. The funny thing is, I tried ordering it on WalMart. They "allow" me a single quart bottle. I went back to eBay and found quart two-packs with no limit beyond their own supply. The seller let me know they would be coming in separate boxes. The first one arrived yesterday. It's from WalMart. The other 5 boxes will also be from WalMarts, each from a different location. HACK!

Now I just gotta find what happened to my spritzer bottle last night after I nailed the couch again just before sleeping. 

(You don't suppose the bugs have gotten wise and carried it off, do you?)

Another Day In Crazy

It's time to take a breath and ask,"'so what isn't happening?

Fires are burning as bad as they ever have. San Francisco and other cities and towns around the west have orange skies from smoke and flames, there's no such thing as air quality for a large segment of the country, and the Trumpanzees are blaming our failure to go out and sweep the forests.

In case you doubt that, our club president just returned from visiting family in Oregon with a report. The family homestead up there,  founded around 1840, had to be evacuated by the current generation and is expected to be totally devastated, family members scattering trying to find covid-free and affordable places to stay until ... however long it will take. And yes, there are Trumpanzees in the family spouting just that nonsense.

Books are hitting the stands, written by people with close ties to the Donald. His niece, his consiglieri, and Bob Woodward, the same reporter who was half the team which outed Watergate. Each book is worse in what they have to say about Trump, but the latest one is backed by hours and hours of taped interviews. Trumpanzees just say it's all just political. But... TAPE!

Damning as those books are, other leaks point to his total lack of humanity, honor, honesty, regard for fellow humans ... ad infinitum. He cannot comprehend service of any kind, but particularly military service. He knew how serious and contagious Covid 19 was months ago and did..... (crickets). He leaks national secrets, enlists just as in 2016 any and all assistance from Putin to sway our elections. Everybody around  him is corrupt. Or fired. Now AG Barr is stepping in with the Justice Department to stop him from having to contribute DNA in a rape case, at least until after (he "wins") the election. As a result all those costs will be borne by us, the taxpayers, rather than on Trump's own dime. The administration is leaning on those who file reports to lie, about the seriousness of the pandemic, the interference by Russia, dozens of other things including the pressure being supplied.

* * * * * 

Outside these walls, we did get rain the other day. About a quarter inch. Since March. Temperatures miraculously dipped into the low 90s today, but in two more we're back in triple digits. Monthly outlook for precipitation is again - wait for it - low. My agave babies have been given an increased amount of water lately and are growing faster now. The first two were adopted out to their new home this morning, a friend taking advantage of the "cooler" weather for her work.


I did get out myself yesterday. Had to. No AC in the car. I recognized the symptoms, as cooling paused briefly while the condenser waited for enough fluid again so it wouldn't fry. When you take several cars up over 300,000 miles, it does happen. Of course it wasn't that simple, right?

I walked in knowing what I wanted.... or should I say what the car needed. There was an inquisition to established exactly what was happening. (The same thing all those times before. Exactly!) Once I finally satisfied them that - at least - they should check the system out and see if it needed refilling. That's all they would commit to.


Fine. Do a load test on the battery too. It's been a bit over a couple years, I think, and the battery hasn't had the respite of a Minnesota summer this year. Arizona is very hard on them. I don't want it to die in the middle of ... anywhere.

There was more, boring stuff, but finally I'm home after my "free" Uber ride. I even managed to get them to understand that they needed to actually call me to let me know my return ride was coming rather than sending a text I'd never see. Only it didn't come. Hours after they said they'd be done, it didn't come. Were they trying to text me after all? You know, just like my last visit? Time to call them and check in.

Except....

No phone! Not here, there, everywhere. I'd put on shorts that morning with very shallow pockets. If I'm just walking around, no biggie. But my phone likes to fall out in a car. OK, but now the real question, which car? Mine or the Uber? I got Rich to call "me" in hopes of somebody nearby hearing and answering. Nada.

Now I have to go online to get the dealership's number again, since it's saved .... in my phone, of course. After some rigamarole getting ahold of "my" connection to the repair department, she says they are still working on the car, it had, fyi, failed the load test, and did I still want a new battery?

Hadn't I already said that?

She quoted some prices which I knew to be higher than Google information says they are (that's the "free" Uber folks), and I accepted them. I gave her Steve's phone number, asking her to please request the repair staff to check for my phone (with likely locations, known from experience) and please let me know. There were other possible locations, including completely lost.

While waiting for the nothing I was hearing back, a little research with Rich and the internet gave me some options for worst-possible-case.

Too much more time passed, so I asked Steve for his phone to call them back to check on progress so I could plan supper. Yeah, that late. Unfortunately, Steve's phone wasn't working for me. There's a security code to get in. First though, it has to be turned on via a button on the side. Then, I couldn't figure out how to access the keypad  menu. AAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!

After waking him, he patiently - kinda - showed me how to do what all I needed to use his phone. He was a little puzzled by my failure to comprehend. My temper was surfacing, and I just asked him to please call for me. Once the call was complete - my car was done, the Uber will be here..... - I showed him how he'd hold his phone so he could see it but not at an angle where I could, and I hope he now believes I'm not entirely as stupid as I was feeling while I was trying to use it.

Once I walked into the dealership, my contact was on the phone, which didn't stop her from reaching over her desk and  handing my phone to me. Big relief!

Matching big bill.

GREAT COOLING POWER!  However, an enigma. They could not detect any kind of a leak or fault in the condenser. But my fluid was high in water content! They finally gave up trying to figure out why, put all new coolant in, and added a lot of dye to it so I could locate any leak if one appeared. 

Oh, and did I want my tires replaced? Uh, sure, next month or two, and by somebody faster and cheaper!

* * * * *

I've been doing some internet shopping for clothes for the little grands. Two started school this week and their family budget has been hit with everything at once. I remember those days, so hunted around for some cute long sleeved shirts for them. Got pictures back of them opening them and holding them up to show off. What more could a Grandma want?

That was last night. This evening Steve showed me pics taken from the first day of school, sent via Facebook. NO MASKS! Not anywhere! Minnesota's covid numbers are currently higher than ours in new cases, and even here we're having issues with home learning vs. in school, whether precautions are "enough", and teachers calling in sick, presumably to safeguard themselves.

But no masks in these pictures!

OK, odds are.... Except, hearts are damaged in even light cases, and even in children, with more information coming in all the time. Even more, I worry about their father, with a very long history of asthma.

Oh, and as of right now, we haven't heard more about the granddaughter who'd tested positive a bit back. We've both been trying to reach out.

* * * * *

I have been working on a project now for a few days: archiving this blog. The powers that be have been changing things around, and you know by now how much I hate new tech most of the time. I don't consider this an improvement, though it doesn't show as you see it. Long ago the question came up, what happens of the host goes off-line? Till now this has been preserved only in cyberspace.

I'm changing that. Starting back in December, 2009, I'm copying each post in order onto my desktop, organized by month and year and in a separate folder from anything else I've saved. So far I've gotten 14 months, and rereading them has been an adventure. It starts after Daddy has moved in with us, and follows all kinds of details I'd forgotten. I'm glad I thought to write all the details down back then, though I'm sure for some of you it was a slog. Hey, at least you weren't as sleep deprived as I realize I've long since forgotten I was back then.

Looking back is also a treasure. I'd managed to erase much of that time, though not necessarily on purpose. I'm getting it back along with a renewed appreciation of the struggles, the humor, the wealth of assistance from those around  me. Most of all, I've recovered something I'd manage not to realize through all the stress: how much I loved that man!

How healing!

Other People Are Saying.... Snark! & Whatever?

Sign:

BIDEN 2020
TRUMP 20-LIFE

T-shirt:

CLINTON
made me want to be faithful
BUSH
made me want to be smarter
OBAMA
made me want to be better
TRUMP
made me want to be Canadian

Article:

https://www.dailykos.com/stories/2020/9/4/1974965/-The-Bradykinin-Hypothesis-may-explain-Covid-19-s-diverse-symptoms

Baby onesies:

Party My Crib 2AM BYOB
Did 9 months hard time, currently serving 18 years parole
My parents do not practice social distancing
(eye chart sizing and arrangement) If you are close enough to read this you are close enough to change my diaper
I was just supposed to be a backrub
(arrow down) I have a surprise for you!
Birth: Nailed It!
Can you smell that?
I'm the reason we're late


Google Translate:

Rich was using this on a letter sent me to in Spanish, trying to sell me insurance and confidant that a last name Rosa meant I didn't know English. As he was holding the letter over the living room rug, it chose to "translate" that instead, finding a pattern, it thought, of XOXOXOXOXOXOX.

Who knew it was that fond of us?

Health Updates

Yeah, I know: nothing for a week and then two posts in one day? What's with that?

All three of us have news today. Rich's rib is improving noticeably, enough that he's thinking returning to work is a possibility by Monday. That's if, of course, his boss will take him back. In that kind of lower level job, I'm sure he's used to a lot of turnover and is cynical about anybody's excuse for not showing up. Then too, there's the paycheck which still hasn't shown up, and by now another one, though partial, is due.

Steve had his angiogram yesterday. Happy 4:30 AM wake up call, whee. I was supposed to pick him up afterwards, estimated to be 12:30. It's a 30 mile trip each way, so planning is required. Unexpectedly, I got a call to pick him up by 9:45. Something about using his wrist.

Huh?

Contact is kept very brief so no questions were asked/answered as he was hustled out the door and into the car. Just the "Here's the instructions, there's an Rx but you can start tomorrow, bye," kind of stuff. And Steve was groggy and still in pain from the procedure, so I waited to ask what they'd meant.

Details came out piecemeal. He didn't need a stent, just a statin. Hence the Rx, and could I drop it off for him please? (Of course, and grab ice cream while there.) Must be one of the few medical places still using paper rather than emailing prescriptions to the pharmacy, and I know they had the information as I was sitting next to Steve when he gave it over the phone the previous day to them.

The wrist part meant that they didn't go in through the groin as planned, but up through a vessel in his wrist. (Apparently he has very good ones.) That bandage can't come off until later today, so I'm presuming artery, not vein. Meanwhile there is a lot of pain, bruising, and swelling in that arm, still even today. I'm not convinced that was a good trade-off.

Anyway, they aren't concerned about his heart. They are about his breathing. And I'm left concerned about how often his heartbeat drops between low 50s and 40. I will be nagging periodically about having somebody pay attention to that. So this is not over, just another stop along the way.

I say that because I'm aware of the difference a pacemaker makes. As it happens, that's my medical news of the day. It was time for my annual pacemaker check. There is a piece of equipment in my bedroom that periodically uploads information from it to whatever destination needs it, so I don't need to do what my folks both did, making an appointment monthly to connect with a landline to the doctor to make sure theirs were still working properly. However, I do have to go in annually to my cardiologist to have it evaluated and make any changes needed to make my life better.  Today was that day.

I walked in with my pretty "Peace" mask, anticipating a check-in and sitting down for a wait. Instead, I was greeted and sent straight back, with the receptionist commenting to the technician, "I told you Heather was dependable!" Inquiring, I found out that his 5 (!!!) previous appointments had failed to show up. Or call. That begs a few questions, like are they among the 440+ people in this zip code who've caught the virus, and are they still using their pacemakers? Or, say, air? Have they just gone north and can't/won't fly back?

After checking it out, he informed me that I have 9 1/2 years until this will need to be replaced. I'd put it on the calendar, but mine ends in 4 months.

On my way out I stopped at their scale. I'd been going often enough to make that a regular stop to monitor myself, following my progress on a dependably accurate piece of equipment, the kind where weights are slid across their bars rather than needing to program them in order to read the number. In other words, something even I can use. I'd figured, with all the time I haven't been exercising, still finding chocolate sources powerful enough to overcome any efforts at "won't power," and noticing that certain pieces of clothing here starting to bind, that I'd likely put on 10 pounds over the summer.

I lost two!

Of course, the surprise and elation were quickly replaced by the sobering realization I was in fact simply replacing muscle with fat. Meaning before too long, I need to talk myself into heading back to the pool, which in turn means finding a way to talk myself into believing it is a safe activity. We're still having record highs here (113 today, tomorrow...), so walking out along the streets is out of the question for a while yet. The weeds in the yard need pulling but I'm leaning - literally and figuratively, balance issues taken into consideration - towards hiring it done by our regular crew.

And, of course, the weight loss could possibly be the result of a couple months of involuntary blood donation from those omnipresent bed bugs! Quick, tell me: do I look pale?

A Man Of Honor

I had those words engraved on Daddy's tombstone at Fort Snelling National Cemetery, where he and Mom have their ashes interred. He earned his spot there after serving in WWII. He was raised to be honorable, and lived his life that way. No big splashes, no celebrity, just steady, enduring, unflagging, quiet honor.

He's not the only soldier in the family. My brother Steve served in Viet Nam. My son Paul served in the national guard. One of our ancestors came over from France to fight in our revolutionary war. The earliest ancestor the family can trace stood and fought with William Wallace.

President* Bone Spurs would call them all "suckers." He frequently denigrated John McCain for getting shot down, denying his heroism, not realizing his true heroism was in refusing to leave his POW prison until all his men were released also, despite his being tortured, when he was offered a chance to leave without them. When President* Bone Spurs stood with John Kelly at Kelly's son's military grave, he dishonored  the soldier's sacrifice. He literally cannot understand the concept, or any human interaction which is not transactional. He's all about what's in it for himself. Always.

One thing Trump is not, in any way whatsoever, is a man of HONOR.

My father was the quiet parent. For many, many years, in my ignorance, I thought Mom was the parent, he was just there. What he gave us wasn't preached, just shown by example, and learned as others talked of him. He made an even bigger sacrifice than serving in war, at least in society's eyes. In 1934 his father died from an infection before antibiotics were available. There were younger siblings and a widow still needing support, so my father left college in order to go to work to help support them. Without that degree, it took him until 1941 to be able to make an adequate income to be able to marry my mother, and even then it took her father's assistance to get him a factory job to bring his earnings high enough. His siblings were businessmen, educators, people in positions of status and generous income, while we grew up the poor branch of the family. Through the years Daddy had such careers as running a resort and being a real estate agent. Mom worked as well, in secretarial positions that would now be labeled "Executive Assistant."  No glamour, no fancy status, no riches, but we always had what we really needed.

Perhaps the only decent thing President* Bone Spurs has done in his life is given me a truer appreciation of my father. He did what was needed, did it without complaint, and did it for us, with love.