On Opinions

The day started out with a nap. By 9:30 it was time for a mug of coffee, though, for I had plans. Rich had finished pruning back the oleander sitting in a corner of the yard. but which I can't get to because some previous owner had fenced it out of my reach by having the 6 foot chain link fence cut diagonally inside the corner, leaving the bush outside. Rich reached it for me from a ladder, and branches were now strewn all over the ground on my side the fence. I had already filled one 30 gallon Hefty bag with the ones I could reach to clip as they had grown through the chain link, but those were just the start.

I developed a technique to make the job easier, eliminating the need for a pruner for all but a half dozen of the worst branches. I found they snap in certain places along the stems, and either snap clean or strip a thin piece of bark away. Either way, they no longer poke holes in the bags. Gloves protect my hands from both blisters and any poison in the plant, and I can haul a chair out to sit in, increasing my staying power to well over an hour at a time.

This afternoon was sunny and nearing 70, and I was parked over the pile in the shade as I worked. It also turned out to be a great spot for inadvertent eavesdropping. The next house over, backing our next door neighbor and hidden by the bush, was the source of my entertainment. It appeared to be homeschooling time, two young boys, likely elementary school ages, and probably their grandpa. There was a lot of disciplinary talk, trying to keep them on task rather than squirming and competing over everything. 

What I first heard that caught my attention was Grandpa asking how did they get red? No answer, though the boys were reminded they had just gone over it. He then repeated an earlier lesson about how to get orange by combining red and yellow. My mind wandered off a bit, imagining myself teaching that same lesson. It was complex, though. I would have answered about primary colors, suggesting it could be gotten with a prism, but then recalled all the colors could be gotten that way. But if you were, say, coloring yarn for a weaving, you could go out and collect bugs for cochineal. Of course that lead to me realizing I had no idea what I would be talking about or how it was done.

Their discussion had wandered off in the meantime, and I alerted back into it when I heard Grandpa telling - scolding actually - one or both of the boys. "If you ask somebody their opinion, you listen politely to what they say. You asked for it." I continued that thread in my head at great length. If you ask for an opinion, you don't do it to tell somebody they are stupid or to laugh at them. It's about trust as well as manners. That person may never share anything personal with you again. It also might be your chance to learn something new about how you yourself think and feel. When it's somebody you like, or think is smart, you may be ready to believe there is something worthwhile in what they say, or at least check it out. If you already don't like them, you may decide their opinion is not how you think, or how you want to think.

And I was off, imagining having a few children actually listening to me talk about opinions. (Yeah, 'cause that so often happens, right?) How would I respond? What would I say? I imagined I had time ahead to think about it so I had some kind of actual opinion. The scenario I set up started with being asked about my politics, couched in terms of what I think about this country. These times are divided, and I'd want to be careful, especially with other people's kids. Perhaps I'd say that opinions need a starting point based on my personal philosophy. I'd describe myself as both an idealist and a cynic. I love this country and what it stands for, but as a cynic recognize we do not always (often?) reach our best. But as an idealist, I also think it is important that we strive to do so, and are in the long slow process of making things better. (No promoting of any political party here, because kids.)

 But then, this was all in a homeschooling situation, so I'd do something other than give my personal opinion on whatever topic, instead talking about opinions themselves. Because, well, me. I'd continue:

Opinions are tricky things. They are slippery, some staying for long times, others changing with circumstances or new information. But to get any opinions at all, you first have to start with a world view. Decide what you like and don't. What do good and bad mean to you? What is important right now? What used to be important but isn't any more? What do you want? Who do you care about? What new information has the power to change your opinion?

Talking to kids, I might start with how their (literal) tastes change. As infants, milk was the yummiest thing in their world, because it was the only thing they knew, and life was all about survival then. As they grew, they had different foods to choose between, and some tasted good while others didn't. They also learned that other people like and don't like different foods than they did, and even these preferences changed with time. It could be taste buds changing, or some foods being connected with happy times and others with unhappy times. You might eat a food you love until one day you get sick. Now the two are associated in your mind so you change your opinion about it. Smells work the same way. You might love wood smoke when you have a weenie roast and s'mores over a bonfire with friends, but if your home burns down, you learn to hate it.

While we're talking about being babies, I remind them that when they were really little, they didn't mind diapers. (Insert imagined giggles here.) Once their bodies changed enough so they could go potty the way older kids and grownups did, diapers were humiliating. We might even talk about getting really old or sick and needing to use them again, and how much of a struggle it might be to again change their opinion of them.

I'd go on to talk about how friends change. You might think Sean is your best friend for years, but one day he is mean to you and it really hurts. You will need to think about whether your opinion of Sean and of your friendship has changed, and what that means to you. Is he mad at something you did or does he have some other excuse that you accept? Will he keep behaving this way to you? Can you forgive him if he apologizes or not? Way beneath all that is what your opinion of yourself is, and what kind of behavior you think you deserve from people around you.

We could discuss values. For example, a promise is important, right? We value people in our lives who can keep a promise when they say they will. But sometimes it is important to break a promise. If your friend asks you to promise to keep secret that they are going to sneak out to go someplace that might be dangerous, and later they don't return, do you let adults know where to look for them? Something might have happened to them. Is the safety of that person more important than the secret? When do you make that decision?

Opinions on fun can change quickly. It might be as simple as getting bored with doing the same thing too many times. Or let's say you see a lovely stretch of ocean beach and you want to swim there. Do you still want to go if somebody tells you sharks have been seen there lately? Does your opinion of it being fun change because somebody else has a different opinion? Or perhaps because the real fun is in spending time with them?

How does your opinion of a particular person change based on what you hear about them? Does it matter if they are either richer or poorer than you? Does it matter which religion they believe in whether you think they are a good person? What if they were really popular and everybody else wanted to be their friend? What if you heard they killed somebody? That would be terrible. Would it make a difference if they did it while protecting somebody else? Did it fighting to defend their country? Did it accidentally but not carelessly? Some religions or philosophies have the commandment saying people shouldn't kill each other, while others say not to murder. Does this change your opinions? Is it OK to steal if it's a loaf of bread and you are starving? If it's for somebody else who is? Does the reason somebody does a crime make a difference in their punishment, or is a crime a crime, period? 

By the time we start deciding on those kinds of opinions, life tends to get really complicated. When we listen to opinions of other people, we often disagree. Sometimes we learn new ways of thinking and feeling, or get further backing for opinions we already have. We at least realize different opinions exist for other people. We don't need to agree with their opinions. But if we ask for them, we should at least listen politely to them.

Ahhh, yard cleanup is done. Three bags of clippings now wait for Rich to take them curbside for morning pick-up. Imaginary class dismissed, kids, time to go play and enjoy this lovely afternoon. That may be an opinion we can all share. From the sound of things, real homeschooling finished several minutes ago anyway. Besides, I'm hungry.

Not to mention, there's a blog post to write.

Further Out And About

Maybe we've been gone from Minnesota too long. Yesterday Steve and I took a 4-hour road trip north to ... wait for it ... see snow. Snow! We went with hopes of photographing it too, taking both cameras so we could both shoot and Steve could start getting used to his before we set north again.

It was a late start, an impulse, really. After my early afternoon cardiologist appointment (everything's fine) and a trip to pick up a late lunch, when returning home I had about a 5 second glimpse of mountains to the north with snow on them. I proposed the trip to Steve as soon as I returned, and to my surprise he actually took me up on it. There are so few days when his wellbeing and sleep schedule match my wishes to drop everything and just go. There was a scramble to get the dog outside, then kenneled, make sure both cameras had fresh batteries (his didn't), and reminders to each other of what to remember to bring. 

I showed him my newly discovered route of taking El Mirage north to the 303, which connected us to the 17 nicely north of most metro rush hour traffic, just entering full swing. Or is that full choke? Either way, we dodged it. By the time we reached the 303 we were already seeing several peaks with snow on them, the further away - aka higher - the whiter they were. If we hadn't needed to cross the full metro to reach them, the Superstitions way out east might have supplied some good shots.

As it was, we pulled off three times to get some shots, mostly a disappointment because of their distance. Still, I wouldn't have been interested in heading either further north or having gone up a day or two sooner. There was a reason we left Minnesota winters. Still, we both got out of the house for some different scenery, venturing as far as the south lip of the Verde Valley and a convenient McDonald's before heading back. 

By then we knew we'd be losing the light before we returned, though there was still plenty to enjoy the scenery. It might have been better except for that McDonald's stop. It started with getting our hamburger order wrong. I didn't want cheese but Steve did. He decided to walk back in and ask for the right burger. Unfortunately, when they handed his bag back to him, it no longer contained his fries, or the straw for his large sweet tea. The hamburger did have cheese, though. Somehow we figured it could only get worse if he returned another time to try to get it right. So long as the car was sitting, he was able to bend the paper tea holder so it didn't spill when he was drinking, so he took a long one. Next time we go by, there's a BK two buildings away. And a Subway across the street, though he has his issues with that chain too. Maybe we'll pack a meal?

My biggest surprise came near the end of our trip, pulling into Sunset Point rest stop. We'd just passed the limit of ground photography but the sky was well lit and clouds provided a variety of formations in any direction. Pink was just forming over The Valley, aka Phoenix, its clouds visible from there at just the right angle.  But in shooting just sky, the white of the clouds yielded the contrast of deep blue sky as the light meter compensated for its challenge.

Anybody remember the frustrations I've been having getting one particular prescription from my pharmacy? I'd had to make two more phone calls earlier in the morning, trying to find out what the hangup still was. Pharmacy hadn't heard diddly. Doc's assistant insisted she'd done everything right multiple times and it was the pharmacy's problem. You can guess believing which side of that debate I fell on. I finally, calmly, described to the assistant what the pharmacy had physically shown me from their incoming paperwork from her, and declined to be the go-between on this issue any longer, thinking it was time to switch doctors if they couldn't fix this. As soon as I bowed out, she allowed that she might let herself be so inconvenienced as to actually contact the pharmacy by phone to find out just what they still needed. Gee, ya think?

FINALLY! 

Just after Steve and I had hit the road, my phone rang and I had Steve listen to the recording that said my prescription was ready. Before arriving home, I hit their drive thru and finally got it. Still thinking I might switch doctors, though. I've never really warmed up to this one in the years we've been down here. Just need to find a good referral. Maybe when I go back to the club as ask some people who they like or don't. I might even try Steve's doc, since he's closer. Problem is, whoever I switch to will have to compete with the service and friendliness from the people in my cardiologist's office, and that's about impossible.

Maybe while I think about it, it's time to go download yesterday's photos and see what I've got.

Out And About

Trust me, I never thought I'd say this, but it's a lovely bit of the day between rainstorms. In Minnesota, it wouldn't have been worth mentioning. Down here, it's been raining -- or something resembling damp-ish - for several days now. After days of this, the rain gauge is pushing the one inch mark. Even Saturday night, while we were getting our vaccinations a bit of damp was dropping, to the point of needing the wipers on intermittent for part of the drive home.

Goodness!

This is not the reason I was out and about this morning. I'm still very wary of other people. We continue to grocery shop late in the evening, for example, and I avoid the club except to take minutes for the board meetings. But I have appointments at the cardiologist, one of the very rare other reasons to go out. Today is a sonogram of my legs, Thursday the results, just the beginning of what needed doing.

On the way there I noted a pair of big utility trucks near one of the stoplights, a spot where the planners conveniently pinched up the road to one lane before expanding it to three, adding both turn lanes. Not sure their logic there, but.... 

At any rate, as I approached I saw several large chunks of palm tree trunk on the boulevard/green section, with a lone frond on the front yard across the street. Hmmm, must have had a wind overnight, eh? At least it had gotten cleared from the road. The top-heavy palms are so tall, aka old, here, and this last summer was so hot for so long that it reportedly killed a lot of tree roots, so it was no big shock - except I was unaware of any big winds. Out in the east valley there were reports of power outages, but that's there, and not unusual. They also get much more lightning than we do, some of which we saw in the clouds last night.We had none here, unless the whole household sleeps even heavier than I usually do.

After passing the palm, I glanced to my right, and down one street there was a palo verde knocked over. This surprised me more than the palm. It's shorter, spread out more, and you might think it's more of a wind catcher, but it's a tree that never has any leaves except after a good rain, and when it does have leaves, they are tiny, hardly anything to catch the wind. But down it is. Glad I watered our palo verde recently.

The cardiologist's office is efficiency central these days. One person was in the waiting room sitting, another checking in at the front window, and the person heading the desk recognized me immediately (Wonder why that is, eh? Been there a lot, have I?) pointing to a side door and directing me straight through into another office. I wasn't even asked for insurance information, making three times this year nobody's cared, including the vaccinations. This next waiting room was empty of all but chairs. I was quickly directed from there into an exam room set up for ultrasounds, aka sonograms. Yes, the jell is still cold. This time it's applied in the inner side both legs, three different locations each. I figure if they ever decide to try warming it up, it'll probably ruin its jelly-ness and it'll just run all over. It's not like the docs ignore patient comfort or anything, right? You know, like cold speculums or something. 

Do they still keep speculums cold these days, I wonder? Been a long time since I needed to know.

Up near the groin, where the femoral artery is largest, I could hear the swoosh swoosh swoosh of my pulse. By the time they reached my knee, it disappeared. It seemed logical, not a cause for disquiet. After all, the blood is obviously still reaching the tips of my toes along with everywhere else. 

The procedure didn't take long. After dressing, I looked for my pocketbook on the way out. The woman who did the procedure remarked she didn't remember me coming in with one. Maybe I left it in the car, despite what I believe are rigid habits regarding taking it with me. Alas, nothing in the car. I called Steve and asked him to look in the usual places. I thought I remembered pulling it from its usual location tucked out of sight and setting it on top of the table next to my chair, ready to be picked up with my phone and keys. Nope, not there. I headed home to check all possibilities for myself. My next stop definitely required money and I needed all the information in that pocketbook.

So, not where Steve already checked, not in the bathrooms, not on my bedspread as if I might have set it down while heading in to do something there before walking out the door. Nothing in the kitchen, nothing outside on the little table next to the chair I sometimes sit in while Heather Too does her thing in the yard, nothing in the back of the car where it might have landed and hid on black upholstery while unloading groceries last night. I called the store, and the only pocketbook anybody had turned in there was red. We both agreed it wasn't likely to have changed color overnight, and she suggested I should cancel all my cards.

WAIT! I'm not ready for that yet. Sit and think. Sit. And. Think. 

The longer I sat, the surer I was that I really did carry it into that office this morning. Those habits are so ingrained, I would have noticed not having it on the way in.  Wondering if they would need my current insurance cards on my way in made me sure I carried in the pocketbook. That led me to visualizing my path through their offices and I remembered: entering the procedure room, I'd looked around for a place to set it down that would be out of everybody's way, first to the left, behind the door on their counter. There wasn't quite enough space so I kept going in and looked next to my chair. There was something else there, but the purse-related memory stopped there, picking up when I returned to the chair for my pants, shoes, keys and phone. It wasn't in that stack, but it must be close. I immediately called and left a message that I was returning to look for it before heading out again.

Sure enough, there it was, my  little black pocketbook under the black chair on the black floor. Whew! As a bonus, I decided I was not quite as senile as I was beginning to entertain the thought of being.

On to errand number 2, WalMart. I needed to pick up my ready prescription, something I've been fighting for three weeks now to get refilled. Good thing I started early this time, eh? Last time I waited till I had three pills left (different Rx) and got the actual pills in hand the morning I needed that next one. I was sweating that one. It was important, a don't-skip kind of thing. This was more optional, a combination of test strips and lancets for checking my morning blood sugar. Miss a few days? No biggie, at least not yet. But there were issues. And more issues.

First, I didn't have a prescription number for either of them. My last number was from the whole kit, including the meter and carry case. Now I just needed individual parts. I called the pharmacist, and they understood what I needed and put in the requests with my doc. No joy after a week and a half, so I called them back to inquire why. (Remember, I left  myself time.) They checked, and the paperwork from the Doc hadn't come through. They resubmitted, and I left voicemail with the doc's assistant. This time the paperwork came through... without the Medicare coding needed for billing. Rinse, repeat. A week later, the lancets were ready, but not the test strips. 

That was this morning. This time I was talking to the pharmacy employee in person through the  plexiglass window they'd installed back in April. I usually use the drive-through this WalMart offers for prescriptions, but I needed doggie dental chews, and this is the only place I've found them both in the right kind and cheap. A trip inside was warranted. Thus I saw the order that came through from my doc since the pharmacy employee held it up for me. The next hitch in this order was in the quantity needed part, where the doc's office put in N/A. How on earth can that be N/A? Pharmacy had already sent back yet another inquiry, and the doc changed it to one box for the lancets. Test strips? Still showing N/A. I promise there was no way I was going to stab my fingers without any strips to read the results! Still, I took the lancets home with me, because who knows how they might screw it up the next  time if I didn't?

The pharmacy promised to resubmit the request to the doc, and I promised to leave yet another voicemail. It started with, "We can't keep meeting like this...." and the light approach apparently worked, because this time I actually got a call back in a few minutes to confirm it was only the lancets needed. I'm actually optimistic that this time the order will get filled, and I'll have Rx numbers next time to call in refills. Well, kinda optimistic, anyway.

My next errand required an appointment, and I postponed making it until after lunch. Heather Too needs her nails clipped. Even Steve is insisting, since her way to get attention is with her paws. Those nails really dig in when she wants something. No actual punctures yet, but.... She doesn't like me to do any trimming. This is after I spent some funds to get one of those battery powered grinding wheel trimmers that dogs are supposed to love. OK, like. Tolerate maybe? No such luck. Quiet as they are, the first whisper of that motor and she's at the other end of however far away she can get.

The kit comes with a clipper also, supplied with a guard behind where the blades meet so you can't remove too much nail at one time.This time I kinda got part of a nail removed. It was/is a little shaggy, but certainly no worse than the way she uses her teeth to trim them herself. Well, no worse for her, anyway. I have a lovely blood blister where my finger got a teensy bit in the way of the pinching part on the other side of the hinge on the thing. Now we both agree that somebody else will perform that particular grooming duty in the future.

Pet Smart has reopened their grooming area, something else initially closed last spring. There is one just past the local Home Depot. They encourage using their website to log in and make an appointment. I tried. Really, I did. I would have needed her birthday, however. And a photo. I hoped the birthday - day, month and year! - was somewhat optional. She is a stray, after all, and even strays need grooming. Later on the form asked me to download a photo. Ahah! I have those! So I searched one out, dragged it over to the spot on their form, and...

The system broke!

I wound up on the phone making the appointment. There was no requirement for color, birth date, photo, my email, or in short, half the stuff the website "required." What was useful was the reminder to dig out her rabies vaccination proof, which the county obligingly provides, along with neutering, before any adopted animal exits their premises. Since I knew that would be needed before traveling, if for no other reason, I knew exactly where to dig that up, in a blue folder with everything else relating to her.

Arriving five minutes early, I gave Heather Too some extra attention in the car before heading in, despite which, she was trembling until I turned her over for her nail trimming. I went the deluxe route, $10 for cutting, $5 for grinding them smooth. While they had her, I bought her a new leash. The old one had no clasp and was only useful if the hand loop was threaded through the ring on her collar - or today, sticking up from her harness - and threaded back through its own metal loop. It had been a freebee. The new leash cost more than her grooming visit. Returning to the grooming area, I learned their secret. One person holds the dog so her feet can't get traction anywhere, while the other person works on the nails. This is supposed to be a one person job, so maybe I wasn't completely as incompetent as I thought I was. Maybe.

Pet Smart has an on-premises vet clinic, so while waiting for the nail trim to finish, I spoke to them about the possibility of having them see her. They gave me a qualified maybe for a quick opening, as somebody had signed up for one in ten minutes but not finished the confirmation of their appointment online. I was willing to wait. Some time after we adopted her, she licked a bare spot on the upper end of her front paw. It had swelled a bit after that and stayed bare. Since two months had passed without change, I decided to have it looked at in case it needed attention. 

We got the opening, and yes, everybody gets a kick out of "Heather Too" as a name. Some even figure it out. There was paperwork and a weighing in. From just over 14 pounds when we adopted her, she now registered 16.8, which the vet, after checking her over, said was ideal for her, a little padding over the ribs, but still a "waistline". Just keep an eye on it now. The bare spot on her paw was a scar from all the licking, no sign of any mass or injury, no likely insect invasion since she's on Frontline. 

I asked about her likely heritage. She's listed simply as chihuahua, short hair, but is way larger than breed standards. The vet agreed there is some mix there, offering a few possibilities, though agreeing with our labeling her as a rescuhuaha.

She does need a dental cleaning. We did know that. I'd been putting it off, giving her half a "dental bone" for her treat whenever she needed to be put in the kennel, just to keep the kennel from being a punishment for a dog who arrived with abandonment issues, now seemingly gone. They did a good job of cleaning the brown off the pointy halves of her teeth, but not so much along the gum line, and improved her breath tremendously.  The "free well-visit" post adoption vet had quoted me $550 or up, depending on what they found. These guys quoted me $311 and up, same qualifier. Today's visit turnedout to be free. I think she'll be back here, not just for the nail trims.

Me, I'm just happy to be done running around for the day. 

I'm also thinking I should have heard from the pharmacy by now.

My Evening As A Plus 1

I'd learned it was a possibility just a couple hours ahead of time, so I dressed carefully for it. It paid off. 

Tonight at 7:33 was Steve's covid vaccination appointment. I had to drive anyway, due to his night vision and abhorrence of city traffic. We'd done the daytime scouting of the location, and thought we  knew how to enter the stadium grounds, and how much ahead of time to get there. Just to be sure, I went online again to try to suss out whether our plan was adequate or erring a large amount on either side of too much or too little time. While there, Google offered me a chance to hit one of those question/answer sites, which in turn led me to a first-person account of their experience. 

It was the first I'd heard of the opportunity to get my shot too, just for being a second person in the car and of a qualifying category, not requiringing an actual appointment for that time slot. It's a way of getting as many shots in arms as possible and not having to waste any for no-shows since the vaccine can't be refrozen.  State Farm Stadium was providing the opportunity - maybe. 

Behind the steering wheel is a very clunky place to have to roll up a sleeve unless it is very short and loose. It was cold out, however, and I wasn't willing to go that route. However, I'd been wearing a knit shirt all day with a very wide boat neckline. I threw my fleece vest over it and gave it a test. Yep, I could stretch out the neck enough past the shoulder to expose the top of my arm. We were a go.

Fingers crossed. 

We left the house at 6:15 and took about 10 minutes to get there. Except.... We drove the route we'd mapped out ahead of time and there was absolutely no entry we could see to get into the parking lot. We did a complete circle around the area, including getting back on the freeway, going past the exit we'd first gotten off on (traffic) and swinging around again. This time we spotted the entrance. There had been no traffic entering as we passed the first time, and it happened to be one-way the opposite direction we were traveling in. Now other cars were showing us the way. Fortunately, there was a gap big enough for a (semi-legal, ahem, since nobody was watching) u-turn, and we joined the line. 

Cones were everywhere, along with helpers in yellow vests and lit pointers, laying out lanes zig-zagging back and forth and back and forth and.... It reminded me of going to the parking lot of a big event where you were directed to an exact unmarked spot in a big field so the most cars could be packed in, in order of appearance, like for one of those Halloween hayride events. Except we weren't parked, we just proceeded through the turns so our line didn't stretch a mile or two out into city traffic before we made our first stop.

We were asked almost immediately whether there was one or two for shots. I answered one, unless there was extra vaccine so I could get mine also. Apparently they had a lot on hand, since that answer prompted them having us turn on our 4-way flashers and proceed through another zig-zag-zig-zag-zig to a designated one of series of numbered lanes. There were a whole lot of us with flashers going.

There was paperwork to fill out and questions to answer once we finally got to our first drive-thru tent. Steve had a formal appointment, so somebody marked his number on our windshield, followed by a +1. It was lousy handwriting, and he had to refer to his confirmation email number so they could figure out who he actually was at every stop as we went through the rest of the process. This was where I had to show my driver's license, proof of age qualification. It was also the last place I needed to show it, but nobody said I could put it away until a few stops later when I asked. Steve never needed to show his.

The next line was our wait to get our shots. This was the slowest line, despite having the most tents. And I still needed my 4-ways flashing. Nobody explained why, but I guessed it was to signal there was more than one person in the car getting shots. We "flashers" seemed to be in a certain set of lanes all the way through. While waiting, somebody came up to each car with more questions, paperwork, reading numbers as well as possible off the windshield (I had one there too now), or whatever their task was. The questions never changed, but perhaps they thought if they asked often enough the story might change? Did we currently have covid or symptoms? First or second shot? How did we feel? On blood thinners or any bleeding disorder? Allergies? Mostly that one was phrased as severe allergies, but when they didn't include severe, I answered "pollen" and got a weird look. Hey, honesty!

The shots themselves were almost a letdown. You've seen all those TV bits of poking the needle in, withdrawing it a bit, and poking it in harder, right? Kinda creeps me out. I'm one of those who always looks away from a needle. It's not the shot, or the blood draw as long as they get it right, but the having-to-look-at-it part that does it. Mine was a very gentle poke, just enough to know that they'd done it. Steve had to ask when they were going to start his, just to find out they had finished.

The next line we had to wait in accomplished several things. We were given cards which listed the date of the shot, which vaccine was used (Pfizer), and our appointment for dose number two. People with tablets (must have been a wi-fi hot spot) asked our preference for when to get those, and we requested two together so we could do what we'd just done. Was 8:45 AM too early? Heck no! We go back February 18th. And yes, I need to call on Monday to cancel my previously scheduled appointment so somebody else could use it. Once we finished all that and finally approached the final tent, the person there looked at the last number which had been written on our windshield, the time of our shots. We had to wait 15 minutes to make sure we were  feeling well and not reacting poorly to the shot. Once that passed, she had a cloth with the proper solvent to remove the greasy letters and numbers, and we were on our way.

Time on-site: about 45 minutes. This included the extra paperwork needed by my being a plus 1. I expect next time to be faster. It took close to another hour to get home, since we stopped at 2 fast-food places (different appetites) and got gas first. It was almost enough time for the excitement to wear off.

Almost.

Inauguration Moments

Three different takes on the events of the day were recorded on our DVR, giving a wide range of events to react to. 

There's the shot of Melania leaving the White House, looking genuinely happy, the most genuine and unposed I've seen her. OK, perhaps those moments of slapping Donald's hands away were genuine too, but they certainly weren't happy. It makes an interesting contrast with the moment at Andrews when Trump stops to say good-bye and takes a moment to compliment the First Lady. She looks ... oops, the CBS camera swings to Ivanka at the mention of "First Lady." Whose Freudian slip is that?

While Trump is at the podium at Andrews, after listening to his (unusual for a good-bye) 21 gun salute with cannons so he can still feel important, he never mentions in his speech the names Joe Biden and Kamala Harris. Why notable? He's never said their names since the election. It's almost as if he thought they didn't count, never recognizing in some little part of his brain that it was actually real. He was leaving and it still didn't matter, hoping it wasn't for long, but nonetheless, leaving.

The crowd seeing him off was interesting. Reports have it at about 500 people. Invitations sent out welcomed 5 "plus ones", the act of somebody desperate for another big show of support even though he was leaving in disgrace. Supporters are still out there, though now they notably do not include Pence, Moscow Mitch, even Ted Cruz, all visibly at the inauguration as if knowing on which side their white bread is buttered. Perhaps just pretending?

One of the last people entering what is still Air Force One for a couple more hours is the person carrying the nuclear football. For this inauguration there are two of them, footballs and carriers both. At noon, the one in Florida by then no longer follows Trump around and returns to DC. One presumes it is inactivated at 12:00:01. The one in DC at noon now follows Biden. Trump's little ego show just has to cost the government that little bit extra expense of that last round trip of the presidential airplane toting all the family south, but at least they are leaving. The whole fam damnley. Buh-bye. See you in courts. They are not pardoned. Others are, giving them no option of taking the 5th amendment in order to protect the wrongdoers. They must testify when asked.

Back in DC, Amy Klobuchar introduces the principals in the celebration of what she lists as the 59th inauguration, occasioning a discussion in this living room of how that number works when this is the 46th President. Some Presidents had more than one, and some Presidents took over in an emergency with little fanfare, as ultimately the oath is what matters.

There was a unique request before the National Anthem, asking those who are able to to stand for it. It's the first time I have heard that particular acknowledgement of difficulty in standing through a ceremony taking in this case several minutes. It included a prayer, the Anthem, the Pledge of Allegiance and swearing in of our new Vice President. These moments are so scripted out, words repeated so many times that they might have lost all meaning as they apparently did for the last four years. Yet this time, in the wake of the horrors of the culmination of the last presidency in the storming of the Capitol building, phrases putting country and constitution above personal loyalty stood out starkly, and with a great sigh of relief. Normalcy is back. 

A particular highlight was the woman, a Fire Department Captain, leading the pledge of allegiance while also signing simultaneously in stark white gloves. Unfortunately, this is where the MSNBC camera chose to pan out along the lawn rather than follow the signing, so those in the deaf audience lost out. For that matter, so did we all.

Biden's speech wasn't about him, so unlike his predecessor. It spoke of our challenges, of us as Americans and not as political party members and supporters, and what we all need to do to improve our path ahead. If there is to be a path, it must be that we all chose it. 

A clear breath of fresh air blew through the country this morning. Shoulders that we didn't all realize were  hunched protectively finally relaxed. We needed that. We also needed last night, where his last public act as an ordinary citizen was to acknowledge and mourn the more than 400,000 Americans who died from the coronavirus, another thing his predecessor couldn't even understand the need for, much less do.

As Biden said, we are going to show the world, not by the example of our power, but by the power of our example. There is work ahead. It now has a real leader.

In The 750,000

I got to compete today with 750,000 of my nearest and dearest... uh, fellow Arizonans newly eligible to sign up for our first appointment for our Covid vaccine. February is the first available appointments, and they will, conveniently, be done as a 24-hour drive-through service at the State Farm Stadium, better known as where the Cardinals play. That is, when there's no pandemic preventing them. Right now it's available for vaccinations.

It's easy enough to find, as we pass it every time we drive the southwest leg of the 101. It's also where Steve is getting his. He qualified earlier than I did, being just past the magic age of 75, then the cutoff. Now it's down to 65, so apparently there are 750,000 of us within that 10 year age range. As for how exactly to drive there, which exit and which driveway for lining up, well, there will be a test drive scoping it out before Saturday night, Steve's appointment. We'll go together, during daylight hours, and look for signs and heavy traffic lines. Somebody suggested to Steve that he show up two hours ahead of his appointment, so we'll see if that looks sensible. Bring a book! Each. Maybe two.

We both tried the state's website to sign up. It was impossible back then, when they opened it up for 75 and older. It was impossible this morning when I tried. Fortunately, there was a phone number. The only hitch is waiting on hold for an hour and a quarter for him, about 4 minutes less for me. He made his call about two minutes before they officially opened, and went directly to hold. I tried two minutes after opening time for my group, and went through a long voicemail message giving choices which sounded like they really wished we all would make one of those choices instead of reserving our slot for vaccination. As soon as that finished, we were reminded for the third time up to that point that call volume was high, we should try later, and... it hung up on us. Over and over. And over. I finally tried just after noon, and it's possible either a new energized shift took over, or people gave up trying to get in and decided to go have lunch before continuing. By this time I was actually delighted to have the privilege of waiting my expected hour and a quarter. It meant I was finally getting to make an appointment!

The fun wasn't over yet, however. The person I was talking to apparently had faulty equipment, since every second or third syllable was cut out. When you're needing to spell out names and addresses, get times and dates for possible appointments, and finish off with an absolutely required confirmation number, every syllable is vital. She obligingly took a minute to replace her headset (I think that's what she said, but mostly that's a guess) and came back without having dropped my call to finish our business. 

I'm impressed!

My shot will be February 9th. Bedtime will be late, but I'll be there!!!!!!

Garage Sale-ing

I was never much of a fan of the activity - too busy, not a fan of spending a lot of time hunting for whatever, and usually no surplus of funds to spend on anything but what I knew I needed right now, often with not enough for even that. Later in life, it was the thought of all that walking and standing around on my crap knees that did the idea in. That all was just the buying part. As for selling, well, too much work trying to rake in cash for stuff thoroughly worn out that nobody else would want anyway. Working Saturdays at an auction company, clerking sitting down while watching the merchandise pass under my nose, turned out to be my thing instead.

So knowing that, naturally we just had a four-day garage sale here. Steve and I took turns sitting on his scooter - best seat in town! - and collecting the loot as folks left. No cash box this time. Being January, we both were wearing hoodies with the kind of front pouch pockets where your hands can go in from both sides and shake each other... or just keep warm. Our masks went in there until we emerged outside in the world of other humans, along with the starting kitty of one and five dollar bills. Sometimes a cell phone joined them, occasionally a cheese stick. A scattered quarter joined them on occasion, but most of the sales were for folding paper. Steve and I would spell each other, usually not before somebody got chilled in temperatures starting in the high thirties, reaching deep into those pouches and swapping the piles of bills to the other's pouch, though on that first day, parts of those piles were peeled off and taken inside so not all of the kitty was vulnerable to possible mischief. The other three days didn't require that step, unfortunately.

Day one was incredible! Of course it mostly happened on Steve's shift, as he took first crack at the customers. I mean first shift serving them. I insist he has a gift for gently persuading them that the nicest thing they could do in the world was walk out with some merchandise... or more than they already had. (I pat myself on the back for managing once to talk a fellow carrying a part can of paint that he might consider a bin full of rags to go with it, bin included, for just a song. His wife liked the bin, so it might be her who really talked him into it.)

No matter what left each day, the place was even fuller the next. Rich had all kinds of merchandise and not all kinds of space, so the dark hours were spend restocking, with just a little bit of sleeping on the side - at least on Rich's part, as Steve and I did just fine on the sleeping front.

By the end of the first day we had made enough for the original kitty to be returned to its sponsor, and well more than enough to restock it for the next day's sale. There is even most of a path through the lanai now to take the dog outside, but things still tumbled into it well into the second day's sale end. Day three was baskets of clean clothing going out, getting hung on hangers (my job) and put up. Rich had a great source for free hangers. By then things were just getting tossed into the laundry, so out came lots of non-sellables. Think unmatched socks, frayed and stained linens which ultimate went in the rags bin, a couple of items  rescued after house laundry got mixed in the loads, and bunches of items which had labels from Victoria's Secret. Those last got sent back inside the house, since Rich says he has a "market" for those. There were a few of those items which I tried to figure out how on earth somebody actually got into them: so many spaghetti straps, what a puzzle! (I figured, of course, that taking them off was a two person job, or what's the point?) There were a couple of padded bras that would have been great for Halloween costumes or drag queens, padded so thickly I had to force my fingers to get them to meet from opposite sides of the foam. (Just checking, ya know....) Yep, definitely nixed for the sale, along with a bunch of thongs, particularly since the only table space left was also filling up with kids clothes. Seriously not the same customer base.

I found it interesting over the course of the days how one person showed disdain over an item, say a rug, and so did the next 5 or 8 to look at it, but when I returned from a break, Steve had managed to sell it to a happy customer.

One of Steve's friends showed up, along with his cute and very bitey dog. Thankfully, the owner was mindful and the dog secureed on a short leash. He explained this was a very recent rescue after his last dog had to be put down, and they were still getting acquainted, but trust between this new pairing was becoming established.

One of my favorite visitors showed up every couple hours or more. Next to the clothes there was a fuzzy dog blanket hanging, the kind where two pieces are of fleece are joined by tying fringe into knots all around it. Its pattern was chew bones and hearts, all in brilliant pink, orange and turquoise on a black background. I watched as a very determined hummingbird would hover over it, insisting that somewhere in all those colors was a source of nectar just for it. Occasionally a customer would be paused a few feet away in front of it, and it was brazen enough to swoop and dart in and out, front and back, seemingly sure that this time those flowers would be ready. On the third day of the sale, a woman grabbed it on her way in to see the rest of the merchandise, and I mentioned how much entertainment we'd gotten from the hummer. Sure enough, as she walked out, the hummer trailed behind her watching it's imaginary feast go forever beyond its reach.

There were some fun customers, some - um, let's just say different - but the truly oddest one came middle of the third day. Part of meeting so many people during this kind of event, for us, is developing a patter to welcome our potential customers. This morphed into letting them know how much we appreciated their putting on masks before walking up. Always it was received well, and often occasioned a brief conversation about how bad the pandemic was getting. If they paused to chat further, it might lead to the "where did you come down here from?" which is pretty standard greeting in snowbird central. It may also lead to discussions of waiting for vaccinations so we could resume our regular lives. This is where the odd one chimed in that she was never going to get one of those. She cited a story about some nursing home in New Jersey where they had come in and vaccinated all the residents, and within two days, 40 of them were dead! The rest were all sick, proof, she claimed, that stuff was put in there to kill off all the seniors, all of which was their plan, getting rid of us.

Sometimes there is simply nothing to say. "You're crazy" or "Which other whacked out conspiracies do you believe in?" or even "Which wingnut station do you get your news from?" just don't meet the needs of the moment. I settled for simply stating that I hadn't heard that, letting her put the blame on me for being ignorant rather than trying to pin my judgment on her. I did note on her way out that she still didn't buy anything, however. By then I was just happy enough that she left. 

I could go google it, but why bother? I read/watch enough political stuff I'm sure it would have surfaced were it true. A lot of the weird comes across in entertainment segments as something ridiculous to laugh at, but I miss much of the crazy. Not as in I feel deprived, but as in it doesn't connect. I mean, I never heard the crap about Hillary sponsoring a pedophile ring in the basement of a pizza shop which doesn't even have a basement, not until some deluded soul tried to go in at gunpoint and rescue those alleged kids. The last part was true, and I hope the fellow is getting help as well as whatever separation from society is necessary. I did hear of the pharmacist who pulled out vials to let them warm up, then replaced them as if they were OK to use. He's been charged and removed from a position where more damage is possible, and the recipients of the useless vaccine informed of their need to get a real dose. 

Last day of the sale is an experience in itself. Prices come down on most items, and we still don't sell much, making even less. A few things were displayed differently and finally sold. Notable among those were small tables which had been holding small items, not exactly advertising their own availability. Those were separated out and placed near the street end of the driveway, and fairly quickly went away. Rugs we figured would never sell, did. Promises made for returns to purchase nearly never bore out, but those which did often comprised multiple sales each. But the dead times stretched out. During one particularly quiet one, with not even jets from nearby Luke AFB or street traffic to break the quiet, I heard the distinctive hum of my favorite visitor's wings behind me. It seems that since its favorite blanket went away, it turned to hovering over the various pieces of framed art hanging on a 4-sided pegboard stand Rich put together, to see if maybe its nectar had moved there in those pretty colors. Alas.

Day five, today, is cleanup. In this case, Rich had promised everything that didn't sell, with a few exceptions that we pulled out for our own use and some small items he plans to sell online, would be packed up and taken to our favorite thrift store less than a mile away. The way we put it, something had to go and he could choose whether it was all the stuff choking his room and most of the patio, or him. He made a wise choice. The back of my car filled up twice with bagged and boxed conglomerations of stuff to haul over. Fortunately, since the thrift store had no rear dock, they provide large rolling bins outside thier front door which you may take to the car and fill, then roll back. We filled two of their three bins by 1:00, our job done. Now Rich's job is moving shelves inside and folding up tables to clear the carport. Then he can fill up another five or six 30 gallon trash bags to go away in the next trash pick-up, organize and vacuum his area, and spray for all the bugs of whatever varieties we've had no access to for months in order to eliminate them for once and for all. I figure maybe by Thursday?

It was a pretty nice profit as garage sales go. A month of the worst of his uncontrolled chaos, most of two boxes of Tide with the accompanying water bill for all the laundry, and four days of work involving all of us, and he made something less than a week's pay at minimum wage. 

Only job in town these days.

Just way too much chaos for all of us.

National Parks

I received a survey in the mail. Besides their main purpose, carefully placed at the end of the survey, asking for money, they asked which National Parks I or my family have visited. My first thought was the handful we plan to visit and mostly have visited on our path to and from Arizona/Minnesota. Add the ones in Alaska I hit. Oh yeah, don't forget the the ones from those family road trips (600 miles per day) my parents took my brother and me on way back when.

By this time I was 1: out of space allotted on the form, using borders for my scribbles, and 2: totally unsure just how many I was missing. After all, their question gave 400 as the number of possibilities.  Huh? Time to do some research. Wikipedia it is. They list only 63, however. At least they are alphabetical, give brief descriptions including the state(s) they are in, which in two cases informed me I had actually been there, and had correct names for them. I presumed the other 337 parks are national monuments. (OK, not exactly, as I found out.) More research listed only 130 of those, so now I'm a bit confused, enough to not feel guilty about not sending them any money. If they can't get that right, who the heck are they?

I did get some interesting information from working to list the national parks where we have visited. I came up with 22 by myself. Steve had lots of those, and added two different ones which I have never visited.

Someday, should I ever consider it an interesting task, I may try to research monuments and figure out how many of those we've visited. Wupatki, Sunset Crater, Devil's Tower....

OK, now I'm hooked, and Wikipedia has another alphabetical list. So:

Bears Ears, Casa Grande, Chimney Rock, Devil's Tower, Dinosaur, El Malpais, Grand Portage, Misty Fjords, Organ Pipe Cactus, Sonoran Desert, Sunset Crater Volcano, Walnut Canyon, Wupatki.

Then there are all the "other" things under the National Parks umbrella, some closer to home than I think of when I think National Parks, like Steve's favorite fishing spot when we're up in Shafer, no more than 5 miles away and the one we've spent the most time in along the border with Wisconsin: 

Vermilion Cliffs, Bears Ears, Mount Rushmore, Sitka National Historic Park, Mississippi R. National Rec. Area, St. Croix Nat'l Scenic River, Blue Ridge Parkway, Lewis and Clark Nat'l Historic Trail.

I'm almost starting to believe that 400 number from the survey, but calling them parks instead of being under their umbrella is misleading. So they still aren't getting any money from me,  unless I hit one of their actual visitor center stores. If they had them. 

*     *     *

FYI for those of you who missed it - though how could you? - Trump got impeached for the second time today. I guess you have to say now that he's remarkable. - just in all the wrong ways.

Mournful Milestone

It had to happen eventually. I am now joining the ranks of those who personally know somebody who died from Covid. Not just a familiar name, or know-somebody-who-knows-somebody-who, but actually knew him.

Vic was a former treasurer from the club I joined down here, Fairway Sterling And Stones. I attended two years worth of Board meetings alongside him, along with membership meetings, seeing him in the club working, and conversing with him and his wife (now widow) about their latest projects. He was a unique personality, not just another generic member of the club. I was shocked to learn over a year ago that he had been battling cancer for a while. He wasn't one to discuss his challenges - aside from hating email. I only learned that because I routinely send out the club minutes that way, and he wasn't a fan, preferring the hard copies provided in the meetings.

After catching it at a Christmas party, he was hospitalized briefly, then returned home last week. I blithely assumed it meant he was better, but the notification I received of his death from a mutual friend stated that he checked himself out because he couldn't get any rest there. He needed to return a few days ago because he was not getting enough oxygen, but did not survive.

His wife, another club friend, also tested positive, but had few symptoms and is to be out of quarantine today. Much as I like(d) them both, I have no plans to attend a funeral. I still don't qualify for  my first vaccination, since Arizona is cutting it off right now at 75 and older. My best friend should be letting me know tonight in her daily check-in call that she got her first dose this morning. Steve finally got his appointment for Saturday the 23rd, after a day yesterday fighting with an unworkable online registration system and an hour and 13 minutes on hold with the alternative phone registration system this morning. The closest I'll get to a vaccine by then will be driving him to the stadium for his.

Meanwhile I'm planning to stay as safe as possible. And mourn in private.

The "Last" Phone Call

CORRECTION: In my paragraph about the final straw, I was reacting to slightly incorrect information. The video of the Trump party was purportedly filmed during the rioting. I have since received information that its timing was actually before the rioting, in fact, shortly before Trump's speech where he was inciting the rioting. I'm leaving the post otherwise as written, because a part of what was driving it was reacting to that misinformation. As far as what I wrote, I stand behind the rest of it. And I would love to have been the fly on the wall to the actual reactions during the riot. Perhaps that will be spoken of in the future. Or somebody's video will be leaked. I personally have trouble believing Trump wasn't fully supportive of their actions as they fit right into his spoken wishes.

*     *     *     *

I first thought it might be a little overblown when I heard two different people tell reporters about making that Last Phone Call during the riots Wednesday. You know, the one that has to say."Here's where I am, this is what's going on, I may not survive this, and you need to know I love you and...." I mean, they survived, safely barricaded inside interior offices for as long as necessary, able to tell their stories. It was all just a major prank, right? Just vandalism, stupid stunts, nobody harmed, and the work of the day merely postponed a few hours instead of being stopped, right? And look how many legislators dropped their antics challenging the election. Maybe this would wind up being good?

More news about what actually happened is coming in. Five people have died, including one cop. (Now they will pay attention?) Not enough legislators saw their way clear to stopping sedition. Details about what was damaged, what was or may have been stolen, (some listed in eBay),  who did what, who didn't do what but should have, how this was treated differently than the predominantly peaceable summer BLM protests. We hear what the world thinks of us now, all the credibility we used to have in informing and monitoring other countries' democracies, gone. Poof. Putin and other Friends-Of-Trump are laughing at us.

There's plenty of stupid going around, meaning not only was there rioting, there are plenty of photos and video. Let's all do selfies of ourselves committing these crimes, eh? The FBI will have months or years worth of evidence for prosecutions, trails of connections detailing who conspired with whom, who stopped intervention by the National Guard (Trump, until Pence stepped in), lack of prevention by adequate preparations made for a long telegraphed plan for violence. Evidence is emerging that for many the plan wasn't just mischief but total destruction, not scaring Congress from its task, but actually killing them? Even Pence was a target for not doing what he had no actual power to do. Funding is being traced to an organization for Republican Attorneys General, not your usual basic definition of yahoos. Well, not until now, anyway.

For me the final straw, bringing home what might have actually happened that day, is summed up in the cell phone video of the celebration by Trump, Ivanka, Donnie Jr., along with many others, smiling and chatting away while they watched, and Kimberly Guilfoyle actually dancing while the rioting went on, thinking that finally here Trump was going to get that second term. In my utter disgust and alarm at the possibilities, with information mounting from all sides and sources, I began to realize just how real those "last" calls might have been.

Can you imagine? 

Unfortunately, I have a very vivid, and increasingly better informed, imagination. Who do you call first? What happens when you only get voicemail? Do you have to tell somebody else how to get into your home laptop? Your cell? Where the insurance records are kept? The special health needs of your pet? Do you keep calling people until your battery dies? How much do you risk being heard and having somebody break in rather than pass by?

When you've got all that thought out, rehearsed who you would have called, what you would have needed to say, felt the taste of terror in the back of your throat, paste this last picture in your mind: the woman out in the street coming towards the camera, supported by the man next to her, repeatedly wiping off her face, crying, and whining repeatedly that, "They maced me! They maced me!" When asked what happened, she continued her whining about being maced, totally unbelieving it could have been done to her, before relaying she had actually made it three feet inside the Capitol "and then they maced me!" Her given justification for her outrage was "It's The Revolution," as though she/they had just performed some noble act. 

Now they can also arrest her. She'd given her name and where she came from to the reporter before her proud confession. That, I too can imagine.

A $70 Lesson Learned

This is an addendum to the previous post. The repairman showed up on time and did a prompt and excellent job of repairing the dryer.  I saved his card so we can contact him directly if we need some kind of appliance repair again.

Why?

That $70 fee that GE collected from me, claiming it was for just showing up, i.e. time and fuel like any plumber or other workman charges, isn't actually paid - not a penny of it!- to the guy who does the work. GE lied. It's just a referral fee. The repair only, work and parts, was $125, directly to him.

Our guy fixes appliances in general, lots of brands and kinds. I asked him if we could call him directly if we needed him again? YES. And would he surcharge us just for showing up, or would the same repair cost us the same amount as we paid him directly this time? No $70. charge, just the same $125. for the exact same repair, in the unlikely same event.

Whatever happens next time, the call will be to him first. Of course, the dryer is old and parts are no longer readily available. We were lucky that our issues were pretty generic this time. Next time we probably will be better off going straight to a replacement. I like his honesty too. He could have not bothered to say that and perhaps gotten another call without being able to give us a fix.

Finding The Right Help

For me, the fact of gas being involved ruled the question. Our busy gas dryer was working just fine, Rich informed me, except for the fact that this was the third time this load went through and there was no heat. I had needed a break from all the news I'd been watching on TV about the rioters invading the Capitol Building in D.C. and was just coming back inside the house after my respite and passed by Rich and the dryer.

While I wondered why he kept running the same load, hoping for heat suddenly returning, that wasn't first thing on my mind. I felt the side of the dryer, and no warmth came through. Just in case it was better insulated than I remembered it being, I opened the door and verified the same thing, while trying to keep the clothes from falling out while the drum kept turning, something else wrong with it. Eventually I got everything back inside except one handkerchief, which I simply decided to sacrifice by shutting the door on it. (It is now untorn, but one section, showing where the folds were, is darkly grey from embedded lint, since it sat for half an hour over the lint trap. It may never recover. The load was otherwise mostly black. Pockets, guys!)

My nose told me there was no gas coming in without being lit, so that wasn't an emergency. Deciding to check whether any gas was coming in the house, period, I lit the stove. Perfect. That wasn't the problem and the furnace was also doing its job. But what do I do first?

I called our gas company, resulting in two periods on hold, my chance to explain the issue twice, and the information that there was no licensed gas plumber  any closer than Queen Creek. While this was supposedly within 50 miles, I had to ask whether this was as the crow flies or did it take into consideration the detour around South Mountain any non-crows would have to make? Come to think of it, maybe the crows flew a round it as well. Oh wait, do we even have crows down here? Anyway, knowing that such charges are based on mileage, I declined that particular referral.

So who next? Well, I had gotten the information that I need a licensed gas and electric plumber (huh?), so looked it up on Google. No such information combo registered, but there were a lot of roto-rooter type plumbers in the area. Also that big name one that comes with big prices and up-sale attempts. Hmmmm....

I know, try Home Depot. They just did a bunch of work for us, and they contract with all kinds of specialties for installations, including the water/gas plumber used in our recent new counters installation. Maybe if I name-dropped our previous connection, praising their former work, they could recommend somebody? A couple pass-offs to somebody else got me to the actual key piece of information I needed so they could refer me. They even took into account that this needed to be more than just a gas issue, that somebody would have to know how to fix that dryer of something internal were the problem: who was the manufacturer?

One of the issues with a front-loading machine is that the top is free counter space... for about the first 15 seconds! After digging around without benefit of a flashlight, I finally found the name: General Electric. As soon as I provided that, she offered me a 1-800 number and a website. First I tried the number, and immediately their machine informed me was that there would be a long wait due to covid. (What? Do their appliances get the virus too?) By then my ear and elbow on the same side were more than tired from the phone, so I instead tried their national website. Not my idea of user friendly.

So I simply retried with letting Google add the words "near me" in my search parameters and got a local phone number. No long wait, just a prompt response and a pleasant conversation with a competent woman who understood exactly what I was talking about and could send out a repair person between noon and three tomorrow. For $70. Just to stop by. He would discuss the costs of what he founded needing to be fixed after getting there. No fix, still $70. I signed up, and she then informed me if I canceled, it would be a $30, charge, but I could reschedule at no charge.

So I guess the next question is whether the semi-dry clothes in the dryer need to go up to the laundromat later, or can be spread around to finish air drying so a whole quarter or two can be saved? They are Richard's load, but I can't ask him because he was already sleeping. Don't need that kerfuffle, trying to wake him.

I can't get the mail either. He's stretched out across the path, very narrow because he's still in the process of clearing out all the stuff in that room, which is why all the laundry in the first place, and I can't safely walk barefoot through that. Heck, not knowing what everything is, I don't trust my balance either, should there be a peculiar lump somewhere in there. I could wind up on the floor as well. The mail comes in the slot in the door on the other end of the room, so  you may ask what's my problem? Well, the lock on that door doesn't work and hasn't for two weeks now. He'd going to get around to fixing it, and has gotten far enough along in that process where he can unlock it from the inside. Nothing unlocks it from outside. Maybe there's nothing important in that stack, eh?

I need a break from all the house stuff. Think I'll just go back to the news coverage from D. C. 

... OH HOLY SHIT!

Going Through the Photos

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. I'm certain I could devote that many, but that's me, as you have no doubt already noticed. But these days, a picture is worth...

- a thousand memories

- a thousand hours of comfort

- a thousand days of not being able to go there myself.

I've put the last few years' worth in this latest laptop, then put them into my wallpaper with a one minute turnover. Every time the screen is not otherwise full, there is something there, randomly selected, a surprise of memories, a feast for the soul. 

Some of those are the people from the extended family who were last seen well over a year ago, at the minimum. Since people are what I shoot the fewest pictures of, so many more are my view of the world around me and the travels I've been lucky enough to take through it. Today's opening shot and this last year's events have reminded me of what Rocky Mountain National Park looked like from the top of Trail Ridge, a place I'm not sure I can ever return to since I couldn't make it up there our last visit. I hope the pacemaker will have made the difference and I can return. It won't be the same, but each time it never is. I've shot elk, pika, and marmots up there, various tundra flowers, decreasing ice remnants. Other times, lower elevations, there have been deer, elk, young owl triplets, foxes, beaver, greenback cutthroat trout, eagles, coyotes, foxes, many existing now only in memory or on inaccessible mediums. One single photo can bring all that back - when I give it time.

Some show the close ups I love, all the varieties of daffodils I once planted in the yard in Shafer before various forces winnowed varieties down to a sturdy few, frost patterns on the car windows at sunrise, monarch caterpillars eating the milkweed and butterfly bush, spiders hanging out in wait for their unwary meal, ants crawling all over peony buds. I can compare blossoms from cherries, apples, cranberries, the violets that carpet the lawn before dandelion takeovers, koi and goldfish fry in the pond, frogs poking their noses up next to waterlily blossoms and reflections from both. Many of those photos show details not visible to the naked eye, like the fuzz on a leaf, the sparkle of a petal, or even the tiny bug waiting patiently for a dinner.

There are all the landscapes that caught my eye when it was safe to stop to take a shot, some in places where I never thought anything would ever appeal, yet here is that one lone fall-yellow tree poking out of the tiniest fold in the earth, with just a bit of a fence in the foreground because somewhere in the tens of thousands of acres on the other side might be a few cattle. Not there today, just a "might be". In another, dead tree remains poke out of flooded areas behind a dam, ghosts of what life was like before fishing took claim to the land. Clouds appear in all kinds of tints and shapes, wisps foretelling storms to come, dark bands of rain falling from their bottoms, rainbows glowing after. Ice breaks up along shorelines while Canada geese huddle, waiting to start nesting because they always arrive early. Later shots show goslings and cygnets on parade behind their parents.

If I switch over to a much older laptop, with thousands of photos which have no easy and quick way to be transferred to the newer technology, there are memories of Alaska, almost a substitute for vanished hopes of seeing it again, knowing it too will never be the same, that we who visited will never be the same, and  prompting me to try to simply be grateful I live in a time when it was possible to go and see and experience as well as to record and review. Memories are fleeting most times without a nudge.

In those quiet times, when the TV is off, when others sleep, when no book currently demands my attention, and especially when I'm just turning on or off my computer, I have this treasure trove of memories, and all the feelings which travel with them.