On The Cusp

Do you recognize that feeling? It's been creeping slowly up on you for a while, barely pinging for attention. There's a growing restlessness, a dissatisfaction with what you're doing right now. You want to be doing something else, something you can't quite name yet. You're almost ready to start thinking about what it might be that you do want. Nothing really needs doing right now. The dog can go out soon, there are no household chores and you didn't want to do any of those anyway. You already washed those aging  spots off the kitchen floor where somebody's spill from a few days earlier finally got black enough to claim your attention, but that was hours ago, and the floor is likely still clean. Enough, anyway. Dog hair doesn't count... yet. Maybe Tuesday when it's clumped together more.

The house has been opened up for a couple hours and it's cooling off a bit, but not quite enough to need having the overhead fan turned off. It'll be just a little too cool in several hours, a delightful time of year when neither air conditioning nor heat are needed, just doors and windows controlling air flow.

It should be something you want to do, something better, more interesting than what you're doing now. Nothing on TV appeals. No books demand attention right now. In fact, you can't even recall just what it is that you're reading. You've been working with some new wire today but it's dark now and that really needs better light than all the room lights can provide. A new idea has to be worked on... tomorrow. You're not hungry, at least not for anything that is handy. Not thirsty either since you've just emptied a glass. 

You're right on the cusp, but not quite there yet. You've decided whatever it is just isn't worth the thought processes to figure out. Maybe you'll take a few minutes and blog about it first though. You're right on the cusp...

Of sleep.

Off The Fence...Again

This time we think it's for real.

Some of you know when we left Minnesota at the end of this last summer, we had decided to sell the AZ house in a couple years and move back north. We started making plans, varying on the estimated price of this (paid for) house depending on fluctuations in the local market or how inaccurate the description of the house is by people who've obviously never been inside or don't know how to count bedrooms and bathrooms.

We looked at staying with Paul, but that one bedroom to ourselves in a house we'd share, while OK for a few summer months, just wouldn't do long term. So we looked at manufactured homes - not mobile - placed on a lot somewhere. So many decisions to be made there. First there were parks with lot rent but some amenities. None of which match what we have here, of course. Then perhaps a solo lot somewhere, but at what price? And our own utilities like well and septic tank, which neither of us have experience with first hand. Solar would be a must of course, but we'd also need to hook up to the grid for stability.

Even if we'd made all those decisions, what community would we want to be near? We both love country, but transportation becomes an issue. No more scootering for Steve to the local grocery store/pizza place/bank/pharmacy/tobacco shop (pipe) like he can do now. No more community center(s) with all their amenities and clubs and people to socialize with. Every distance would require a car. 

There would be mowing and raking and shoveling and ALL THOSE BITING BUGS! Winter would far exceed the ability of our current wardrobe to keep us comfortable for 8 months a year since we no longer own heavy jackets, mittens, or boots. Driving on ice was barely tolerable back when I was both used to it and paid for doing it. Storms are much worse up there than here. Fishing spots would take a car to get to, and unless we're real close to his favorite spot like we are now in the summers, he'd have to find one, and it would be unlikely to offer parking where you can put your chair right next to the vehicle and cast right there. He can only fish 3 months now, but the likelihood of nice weather to stretch that season if we moved up there is slim. There are a couple of "manufactured" public fishing holes in reasonable driving distance down here, and we were just going to start taking advantage of one of them when covid struck.

Practical considerations of leaving here are mounting up. We fit right here in this house with its arrangement of space. There is a fenced yard for the dog that manages to keep coyotes out. Our furniture fits us and the space, and would prove unlikely to fit (well if at all) in a new space. Our stuff would have to be sorted and much sold off, including a few collections we're fond of, one of which is very fragile and unlikely to find any buyer(s) respectful of their value, in whole or per piece. Everybody thinks garage sale pricing  when one moves.

We've been making changes to this house as we go, mostly because of urgent need. New higher toilets, new water heater, new AC/gas furnace on the roof (!!! Yes we know.), new solar panels, new copper pipe routing of water from the curbside meter into the house following a slab leak, new wall oven, kitchen countertop, sink and faucet. We've had built-ins installed in two rooms, thanks to Paul - and possibly a reason he declines to come visit despite promises we won't ask again. The third bedroom is 3 walls of installed library shelves, and the back wall of the master bedroom is corner to corner storage/display/headboard w/mirror custom made (again Paul) to snug around a platform queen bed. More storage under there of course. There's a new security system, new siding on a section of the front of the house. The bathrooms have been partially remodeled, and we have plans to finish either later this year or early next. It'll involve replacing wood laminate with ceramic tile, pull out one wall to replace their common plumbing, and put a new tub/shower enclosure in the master.

Incidentally, who ever thought it was a good idea to put wood laminate floors in the bathrooms? Seriously! Spills make bubbles and nobody, but nobody, wants to spend any time imagining what those spills were and what soaked into the bottom of the laminate. We don't have to imagine. It's a bathroom.

The one big advantage, the one that lures us northwards, is the closeness to family. Part of that family has already moved to Tennessee, not exactly reachable from Minnesota in a day trip. Not from here either, but it's neutral that way. It just takes away part of our reason to move again.

Coming back down here, things started to filter into our consciousness, the reasons we moved down here in the first place. After 4 months away, they'd kind of faded and our love for Minnesota and the family there took over. Working to make decisions, looking at all the work involved in planning a move back, even with a couple years to accomplish it all, stress started building up. Fortunately it's been tempered by reattaching to this locale again. Steve took me out to lunch one day recently and while waiting for our entres, we looked at each other and broached the idea of not moving. We both smiled in relief.

Of course, we changed our minds again, or as we put, we were keeping an open mind. All the initial hassles of being back down here, the oven installation crap, the insurance claim on the vandalism, the issues Rich was having with Adam, followed by a significant betrayal by another person he considered a friend, those were pushing us to go away.

Until they weren't. Things got fixed, threats diminished, contacts severed. We were able to relax. Steve and I were going to go to a factory down here later today that makes manufactured homes, chosen because it has branches in Minnesota which make the same things, in order to get a real feel for how they were made, whether we fit their design or vice versa, costs, etc. I had a couple errands to run before we could go, and when I returned, he suggested not that we postpone it, but simply just accept that our best choice is to keep doing what we are doing, snowbirding with Arizona as our main base. Maybe spend a little longer in Minnesota in those years when we can, Take a trip now and then to Tennessee, but otherwise stay put.

Feels pretty good for both of us.

Steve's Big Day

It finally arrived, the day he'd been waiting for since last spring. It's also the day he's been dreading: his first cataract surgery. I've been trying to reassure him, having been through it myself. When I heard he was getting laser surgery, I started building up the light show he could look forward to, about 8 minutes of something better than fireworks, something he'd never forget, nor see again until his next one... next month.

Like me before it happened, he's been dreading the procedure. It's kind of a freak out mentally, having somebody approach your eye with sharp instruments. Even an eyelash is a special kind of torture, so a scalpel? And having to watch? Plus worrying you'll be even more blind than you were before the procedure?

In the event, for me it was nothing like I'd feared. There were eye drops to prevent pain, first of all. Likely they also kept the muscles from letting me blink, some thing very necessary. Or maybe I'm forgetting some kind of clamp. It doesn't really bear investigation. (Squirm.) I was calm through the procedure, but I can't remember if they gave me something for that or I just relaxed because it didn't hurt and I couldn't even see them before they started, thanks to the laser light show. That part was fascinating, swirls and curls of a variety of colors in a non-stop dance until it was all over.

For me this time, it's a day of errands. First, I have a club obligation for an hour. I leave the club an hour before Steve needs to be at surgery, giving me time to come home, make sure he's got everything he needs, and load him in the car. I won't be staying, not only because they keep him a bit after it's over, but I've got errands to run with Rich in the meantime, taking him to a local store to buy a small heat sink fan so the computer which was donated to him will actually run. Rich's goal is to learn about 80 hours worth of an online course on computer networking systems, hopefully the way to a lucrative job. It won't be until that's done and I pick up Steve that we'll have any clue how it went for him.

*    *    *     *

First, he's fine, though a little wobbly yet. Even holding my arm, he doesn't have the depth of field in his one-eyed vision to navigate confidently even the curb cut getting us back to the car. I have to assure him it's all flat, that the color change is not an elevation change. Once we're buckled in, the questions start.

Where to? Home? Fry's for that minor shopping he needs? A fast food joint for lunch? Steve just wants to go home. The errand, Jet Dry for the dishwasher and a jar of horseradish, can wait. Food is at home, no need to delay getting back in his chair to relax. 

Now that I'm pointed in the right direction, more questions. Did it hurt? No. "Easy peasy" is how he put it, about an 8 minute procedure. Could he see the procedure from his side? Nope. Did he see all those colors? Nope. Major disappointment! I guess I built it up too much. Neither of us has a clue why I saw them and he didn't. Later inquiry at his post-op the next day revealed his surgeon has no clue either. The only thing I can come up with, with absolutely no evidence or research to back it, is perhaps my eye, having been blind at the time for several weeks, was firing on all cylinders making up for lack of input for those weeks, now drenched in laser stimulation.

Who knows?

*    *    *     *     

His post op exam is early in the morning, and again I drive. Of course. Going in, the eye is still covered in gauze and a stainless steel shield. Coming out he's wearing very black sunglasses so I can't see either eye. Again I steer him safely over the non curb and around to the car. Same questions: Fry's for Jet Dry and horseradish sauce? Fast food joint? Straight home?  He asks if I'm willing to do the shopping at Fry's. Sure.  Then it's home so I can have breakfast. He already ate before we left, no food restrictions for him this day. 

I ask how he's doing, but he's not sure. There's still the minor eye pain that he had yesterday, so it's another dose of ibuprofin. As the day progresses, not only does the pain not disappear, but the eye is watering steadily, won't stop. Steve finally tucks a whole clean handkerchief over the eye, under his glasses to soak it up. Since this is novel to me, he decided to call a cousin in Colorado who just had cataract surgery to compare notes. 

It turns out to have been a brilliant idea. Steve had put his old glasses on once he got home. He's always needed them for distance vision. This new lens corrects for distance. Steve has lots of recorded TV to watch while he has another day of very little activity while the eye heals. The glasses turn out to be a mistake. They are making his eye fight against the correction, straining the muscles and inducing the watering. After thanking his cousin, Steve hangs up, removes glasses and hanky, and the next four hours are filled with increasing levels of "I can see!" The new eye keeps improving in vision, stops both hurting and watering. Steve's finally excited about his new vision! As are we for him.

Now his schedule is to go back for his 2nd post-op check on the 4th, after which the next round of appointments start for the other eye. In the meantime, he'll discover how his close vision is, as in how well he can read now, something his old eyes did just fine without glasses. (Backwards of most of us as we age.) He'll have to wait until they are "settled" before he can get tested for new glasses, if he even needs them. We have no clue yet. I expect in a day or two more he'll start checking it out on his own, because who wouldn't? He's also started comparing how the color white compares as seen in alternate eyes, one of my tests for how the untreated eye is progressing towards needing its surgery.

He's so encouraged, he's planned a little trip for the two of us tomorrow, once some morning errands -always more, eh? - are finished. As always I won't count on it until he announces his back is up to it, but it's good to know he's looking forward to anything this soon.

The Undelivered

Day 1: Friday, Oct. 15. The club's supply room head Sandy, aka our 1st Vice President, put in an order to our usual wholesale supplier, Rio (for short). The club now has a policy, due to income falling way off during our year long covid shutdown of the jewelry store, of ordering only what is really low and regularly bought by our members for their projects, or special orders by any member who wants the unusual and is willing to pay half price for  it up front. This day's order comes to around a thousand dollars. Not all is sterling, whether wires or findings or even sheet metal, but would include copper items, our second most used metal, and whatever we are low on in brass, bronze, even nickel. Sandi didn't mention any glass in the order, but I don't think anybody has started doing glass fusion in the club yet this season, and our snowbirds are just filtering back in.

Day 2: Wednesday, Oct. 20. Supposedly the order was delivered. Sandy was busy elsewhere that day and planned to open the box the next day and restock the supply room with its contents then.

Day 3: Thursday, Oct. 21. I was in the club in the morning, serving on the jewelry selection committee and training our newest volunteer on the paperwork I usually do, since Steve will be having his first eye surgery during our next week's meeting. As we are finishing, a flurry of activity starts up in another part of the club. Sandy can't locate the box from Rio. The normal process is for the UPS driver to get a signature from whoever is sitting at the front desk as greeter/monitor if the supply room head is not present to sign. The box then gets placed into the supply room, giving limited access to anyone not working there. 

Everything in the room is locked up, from cabinet doors to the room door itself, except when it is occupied by someone selling to members during set hours and days. Even the keys themselves are locked up in a tiny wall safe, along with the keys to the jewelry sales room, also supposed to have everything inside in locked cases and itself be locked when not in use. Of course nearly everybody knows the combination to  that safe and which keys are for what. That's why we have 11 cameras around the club with video recording equipment in the club office.

The box in question cannot be found, not by Sandy, not later by the rest of us who participate on the hunt throughout the club, in various rooms, behind cupboard doors. I even head down to check both the our neighboring club and the rec center's front desk to see if anybody received our box there yesterday and tucked it away, but no.

Sandy has been on the phone to Rio who checked their records and had been informed that it was signed at the front desk, at 11:57, by somebody named Vega. Who? Nobody recognizes that name. We even go to the club office computer to our membership list to see if perhaps we have a new member by that name, but no. The person monitoring at that time yesterday is called - no answer so voicemail and we wait - to find out what she knows. Who's on the desk and what times are kept track of because we require volunteer hours by all club members in order for them to be able to use club equipment, take workshops, or sell in the store. By the time I leave, we know that nobody who is there today and was also there yesterday at the appropriate time recalls any delivery. On my way out I stop to call our club president, informing her of the problem, and agree to meet with her later in the day to (attempt to) rewind the video feed and see what actually happened. It would not be the first time something has "walked out" of the club, though nothing of this value or size.

Later that afternoon, as the regular club hours are ending, there are 5 of us who are sticking around, now including myself and the club president, trying to solve the problem. Yesterday's monitor during the time in question has arrived, and more phone calls are going back and forth between Sandy and both Rio and UPS, working to track down the package. A tracking number has been provided to us. Both companies insist that the proof of delivery information remains the same, but we now have the monitor joining other club members present in affirming no delivery occurred. The president and I have gotten the video system working enough to figure out which camera has the angle we need to establish whether any delivery occurred, and zoom in or out on that camera, but for live feed only. We cannot figure out how to rewind to the proper date/time stamp. We need to find out who has previously used the system and is still available to contact as well as willing/able to teach us how the system works. 

Finally we all leave, agreeing to meet back at the club Friday morning, Sandy starting the claims process via the club computer, we other two officers tracking down possible help with the video system. I have two possible people in mind but need club records for their phone numbers to start that process. UPS will have to check on the driver involved, seeing where their other deliveries occurred, whether the times and locations claimed are actually possible or if, as many in the club suspect, the driver just dumped stuff  willy-nilly in order to claim they were performing their job in a timely manner. Nearly everyone there either had their own packages go astray recently or knew someone else who had, and tracking them down showed they'd been delivered miles away or simply "vanished". We all agreed that only Amazon takes a photo of the delivery site as proof.

Day 4: Friday, October 22. I arrived at the club at 9 and nobody is there who agreed to show up. The check-in computer shows they weren't there earlier either, and the woman who opened up confirms it. It's up to me. That's a problem. I still don't know how to do what needs to be done. But things get better. 

Our previous president called me and passed along the name and number of the person who last updated our video recording system, and he agreed to show up to help when his schedule cleared around noon.  Our treasurer arrive a bit after that phone call, got filled in on events, and noted she now knows not to pay that particular bill, something she otherwise does promptly. Having her available for several hours comes in handy later once the video guy shows up, since the information - such as we know it - for various club passwords is in a notebook in the safe that she holds the key for.

It turns out that what we think is the password to access the system is not recognized. Nor is what is thought to be the previous one, crossed out right below it. As system administrator and employee of the Rec centers administration, the video guy can access it with his own user name and password, and he writes it down for us to put in our records for future use. Once in, he rolls the date/time stamp back and we watch together, the screen split into 16 different views, though the only ones with actual pictures rather than black squares are ones which have been motion activated. It saves space on the hard drive. Curious about storage space, we discover later we actually still have video from back in April. As slow as it's been, we figure that translates to maybe three months of normal club use. Good to know.

It's fascinating to follow people from one view to a different one to yet a different one as they move around the club. Several of them I can identify from the tiny pictures, but if necessary we can single out one of the 16 sections and make it full screen. It turns out we don't have a direct view of the entrance - that camera points at the floor for some reason. We adjust, utilizing other camera views by seeing though this doorway, catch a corner of what we want from another angle, and so forth, figuring out which routes people take via our camera views to get where. We wind up with 4 partial views of the area we need, and any one entering or leaving the club must go through at least two of those scenes, depending on their route and whether a particular door is open or not. We wind up doing that three times, about a 20 minute span each time, because we discover later the time stamp is off from real time by about 27  minutes. So we rewind and watch again, then figure out he compensated in the wrong direction and have to do it yet again. In that process we cover a full hour from before and after the claimed delivery time. We have proof no delivery was attempted or completed. Being UPS, I know they bring a hand-held unit with them for PODs so any signature is accurately time stamped. It's not a case of get a signature, hit the restroom and three more stops in the building on your way out, and enter it once back in the truck. So the video guy inserts a thumb drive to record over an hour from before to after the alleged delivery so there is proof it never happened should we need more than our simple word of the loss of a grand worth of jewelry supplies.

Before he leaves, he corrects the time stamp and properly aims one of the cameras to cover the entrance from inside the club, in case this happens again. Both agree the shot of the floor really just isn't that useful. Notes or voicemail are left for the officers who need to know and/or take action, and I finally leave just before 2:30. Definitely lunch time. Let others take over now.

Day 6: Sunday, October 24. Club is closed, but I receive a call at home from Sandy. First piece of news is she's been sick for four days, and for the second time in a couple weeks. She thinks she ought to go get a covid test.

Oh goodie. I've finally been going to the club without being religious about wearing a mask, now that I'm boostered and there are still fairly few of us inside at a time. Of course, we do cluster, like for jewelry selection, or discussing problems like a missing delivery or figuring out the security cameras. Yes, I feel fine, but I'll be paying attention for a week or so now.

The big news item is the missing box has been located. Because Sandy was sick she didn't get in to the club to work on the claims process, but now it isn't needed.  The driver lied "just a little" about where the box was delivered to. It was dropped off at the library inside the rec center. Since I don't use it, to me it's just a space between front doors where one could turn right on the way in instead of going straight through, into the main large lobby, then either left to the pool or right to the club. Out of mind, out of sight. 

Much remains to be answered. Why there? Why claim a different room number? Why did the library folks even sign for the box, plainly addressed not to them and from a non-book company? And once signed for, why did nobody notify us or just drop the box off? We're not hard to find, and the front desk of the rec center is always staffed by people whose job is it to know where we clubs are and how to contact us.

Its contents need to be sorted and put in their proper places. Prices need to be attached, as we get a great discount from Rio, then add a small percentage back on to our "wholesale" price for our members. If Joe Anybody wished to purchase some of our supplies, they can but for a yet higher price since they're not members. 

If one of our members has placed an order, that needs to be pulled out, priced for what they still owe on it, and set aside with their name on it. Lots of work. One did, and has been waiting for her supplies, the same member who's been looking for a place they can afford to rent in a few months. They are leaving here Monday morning, and I'm not sure if Sandy will be well enough to go in, organize her merchandise, and meet with her so she can take it with her.

Or even if Sandy should meet with her. Again, this is something I can't step in for. Supply room is pretty complicated and fairly arcane, with a portion of what is needed written down in a place or places to be hunted for by those who know what they are even looking for. At least those people would actually know that they need to find the information! Untrained people wing it and the club usually loses on the deal. I'm certainly wishing Sandy a speedy recovery from whatever bug she caught.

A BIG Bite

I was chatting with a fellow club member yesterday. She and her husband are packing up for now, returning to their northern state for a bit. But while still here, they are looking for a home to rent when they return in a few months. They have been renting a house for several years a few blocks from here, or about a mile from the rec center we mostly go to, but the owner has died and it's being sold.

She mentioned one they looked at to me, which turns out to be across the street and two houses east. It's a cute little thing, but nothing super special. It has two bedrooms, a single bathroom,  a semi-open floor plan  for kitchen/dining/living room area. Unlike ours the rental has a small one car garage rather than a one car carport. It also lacks solar. The outside is painted concrete block, the original way these were all built in this section back in '61. (Ours happens now to have siding over insulation board on the outside of the block. Some of ours just got replaced, so I took pictures.) Other neighboring houses have wood siding, some stucco. I have to presume then that like ours, what passes for studs aren't 2 x 4s with 16 inch centers, but 1 x 2s spaced variably and usually around 21 or 22 inches between. It's also likely, like ours, to have sections where those studs run horizontally rather than vertically, making it always extra fun to find studs behind the drywall in order to hang, say, a picture. Arizona building codes were... interesting back then.

The yard is nothing special, no fence, no decorative rocks, a few desert plants in front for show, and because it's a rental, likely no citrus in back which take regular watering. (When ours languished on the market back in 2011, the realtor handling the sale had all water turned off and three citrus trees died.) All is covered in rocks, the standard for this neighborhood. We don't waste water for lawns, nor energy - personal or gas - for mowing.

It's been for rent for a couple months now, despite this being the prime time for new snowbirds looking for a senior activity-filled community to arrive and settle into. She and her husband won't be living there. The price is $3,000 a month!!!

HOLY SHIT! I mean HOLY! BLANKING! SHIT!

She admitted they might be able to afford the rental... if there were no utilities, no bills, no food required to sustain life, no insurance, no car payments/maintenance/gas, no medical needs, no clothing to replace, or anything else. I sincerely hope they can find something reasonable. I'd miss her.

I'm incidentally also watching a house across the street and up a few in the other direction which is for sale. That sign has been up for several months now. I wonder if everyone is pricing seniors out of this seniors-only community. It sure explains all the phone calls we get from acknowledged investors trying to buy this house. I doubt Steve and I could afford a single bedroom condo in this area any more, were we trying to move in. No savings we had could manage that kind of bill. It reinforces my choice to cash in most of my IRAs back at the bottom of the recession to buy this place. There's very little extra for emergencies, aside from a good credit limit on a card, but we can afford to live here and once we sell will have a decent nest egg. 

I'm continuing to keep an eye on the market, since I'm pretty sure any offers from investors will be significantly low-balled, hoping we're either senile, stupid, or desperate enough to accept one. I can't be positive, since I never let those phone calls go that long. We, in turn, can point out all the improvements we've made, mostly by necessity, that any investor wouldn't have to add to their costs before passing the house on for a sweet profit. Even better to my mind would be selling directly to somebody who actually wants to live in the house. I can google our address, or any others in the neighborhood, and get realtor companies with descriptions of the properties and either last or current selling price, or estimate on current price if not for sale. What's really funny is the misinformation contained in these. A couple list our 3 bedroom 2 bath home as 1 bedroom 1 bath. Those typically don't show this as a short sale back when, so maybe they haven't bothered to do their research and just can't believe what we lucked into. According to the latest one with accurate details, but not even showing solar on the roof, the house would sell for almost 5 times what we paid!

It's crazy down here! And it's not just the politics.

Super Scrabble

Steve and I are fans of the regular game. At the suggestion of one of his sons, we looked for the Super version. Apparently it wasn't very popular, and was only made for a short time. Too bad. It has a bigger playing board, 200 letters, and features quadruple word and letter options. Among other things, this means the game takes longer. I guess too few people have the patience these days. I finally found an eBay seller offering a reasonable price on a used one that guaranteed all the parts in like new condition and the whole thing shrink wrapped. They were right about its condition.

Today was our second game on this board. One of the advantages of this board is that it has tile lock, meaning little nubs are in the corners and sort of hold your tiles in place. If you turn the board carefully, or have a steady hand setting the tiles in, it works. Bump it hard and things go akimbo. (Nice scrabble word, eh?)

We play a friendly game. This means, at least for the first one, nobody kept score. Steve decided he wanted to this time, and we wound up with very close scores plus a bit of frustration on his part with all the numbers as his hand is getting shakier and the result can be harder to read. I think we both won regardless of scores by sharing the time together having fun.

We also slightly change the rules between us. Foreign words aren't allowed in the formal version. We have agreed that foreign words in common usage like on menus often used in the USA have become de facto English words. Taco, naan, croissant, strudel for example. We also allow Latin words that most people know, particularly ones used in school or TV courtroom dramas and such. Urban dictionary words we both know (rare!) are allowed, whether the latest scrabble dictionary agrees or not. We have ordered one of those - the latest scrabble version - but supply chain issues have struck there as well.

We also played the way I grew up playing it but he didn't, by counting the double/triple/quadruple points each time a square was used in a word, even if it had already been covered. I know Steve's son would never let us get away with that, but if one must keep score, let's make them as large as possible. When we play with him, he can insist on formal rules. He usually wins anyway, to the point where it's hard for him to find opponents. It's just like how none of Steve's kids will play the original Trivial Pursuit game with Steve any more because he's so good at that.

Today's game lasted around two hours - at a guess - and we again bent the rules so it didn't end when one ran out of letters, and the other was penalized, but as we wound down at the same time, I had the last letter and could still play it. So we did it that way.  I now have a picture of a super scrabble board with all 200 letters in play on it.

Sweet!

Back In A Groove

Notice I said "A" groove, not "the'' groove. There are a whole lot of grooves, and much is still unsettled. But much is also approaching either its old normal or some level of new normal. Days no longer are constant stress. Sleep patterns are settling back down, a combination of low stress and cooler nights when windows can be left open, at least for a few hours.

The groove I'm getting comfortable with, in fact seeking out again, is spending time at the club and making jewelry.

It's the perfect time. We're welcoming the snowbirds back, though still waiting for our Canadian and British members to return. The next door neighbors from BC arrived four days ago, but it appears most are waiting for the "official" opening of the borders next month. Familiar US snowbird faces are reappearing daily, however.

My official duties have just resumed, being secretary for both a board meeting and a membership meeting each month, the latter including the first pot luck we've held since March 2020. Our oldest member still makes and brings a fantastic pecan pie, cut into slivers just the perfect size to allow us to allay guilt after helpings of nearly everything else set on the table. It never lasts long enough to serve everyone who wants a piece, so the reward is picking the table to sit at which gets chosen to be first in line. Our jewelry store is open, at least sporadically, and a couple of checks have come in, however modest. 

Plus, we are also gearing up for the Sun City-wide Fall Festival, held Black Friday and Saturday, perfect timing for all the crafts clubs to reach the customers starting their holiday shopping, especially this year when there is no relevant supply chain issue. What's on the table is unique, and on the table ready for sale right then at reasonable prices. In fact, we are advised to keep our prices low so the Festival maintains its reputation as a place to get good deals, encouraging more shopping and repeat customers every year. Heck, I even shop there. My typical purchases are kitchen towels and pot holders, though two years ago - our last Festival until this year - I splurged and bought a decorative metal piece for the entryway of the house. It typically is our best sales income time of the entire year, and we get shoppers at the club afterwards who like what we offer and want more, benefitting both the club and individuals.

Looking at the potential sales uptick, the jewelry selection committee is now meeting weekly instead of twice a month, restocking our store and making sure there is a solid inventory supply for the festival. I've been serving on that committee for several years. It's a combination of seeing what everyone else is doing, maybe getting ideas for what to try myself, even tips on how to implement those ideas, and perhaps getting first crack at a purchase for that item which really jumps out. Several times I've made sales to other committee members, all people I enjoy spending a few hours a month - now more of course - working and chatting with. I even sold a piece this week, right before it got entered, by one of the committee members. It's not the first time for her.

It's also a great learning experience. I learn how we judge quality. It's never about style. That's between the seller and the customer. How is the workmanship? Are jump rings closed properly? Any edges or points sharp or scratchy? Are places where it's supposed to be smooth really smooth and polished? Are the materials used up to the job or will it come apart ten minutes after it's worn? Or even just in the process of taking it out of the bag to look at, and yes, that happens.

We also judge on how much of the finished product is actually produced by the member, vs. how much is simply assembly. If we just buy several pieces and put them together, it's rejected. It's the difference between making a chain or buying one, making a pendant or gluing a couple pieces together. We need to put "a significant part" of our own work into everything we offer for sale, using techniques and equipment available in the club, even if we have the same equipment in our home and produce it there. Some members buy their own lapidary equipment, polishers, torches, vibrators, chemicals, as well as the plethora of hand tools which nearly everybody gets for themselves so they know there's something not worn out by hundreds of other hands already, and at hand when needed.

It's always inspiring. I've gotten back into making jewelry again. I'd been noodling in my mind over the summer about how to make continuous flat spirals out of a single piece of wire, but never touched a tool or piece of wire. I thought I had it figured out after a while, but it wasn't till I tried it a couple weeks ago on some cheap wire that I had proof of concept, and several more tries till I produced something I didn't declare as scrap. Even more difficult was how and where to incorporate beads into the spiral centers as I went, something that turns out to be devilishly difficult to make look good, even more when being done in sterling wire when the pressure is on not to waste anything. One bend too sharp and...

But the fun is back in it!

A "Lucky" Day

It didn't seem like it at first. I had scheduled all 4 diagnostic imaging procedures my doctor requested for this particular day, needing to arrive by 8:30 and spaced enough I shouldn't be back home until 1:00 or later. So of course when I show up, I'm informed I have no appointment until 10:00, that they only have 3 procedures scheduled, and that my doctor hadn't sent the paperwork through for two of those.

Huh? I know the doc sent the stuff through because the process is first he does that, and then their scheduler calls me to set the dates/times up. She had to know what she was scheduling for. We also discusssed that the company has lots of branches but only one in this area which can handle all 4. None of these are absolutely urgent, so I was willing to wait for her call. As it was, it took almost 3 more weeks out from her call to find a day when all would fit into a reasonable same-day schedule, as well as happening on a day when I was free. How the heck did she know what to schedule if she didn't have the orders? The check-in staff, those people who hand out clipboards filled with pages of forms you have to guess how they want you to fill out (and always, ALWAYS need to know the date of my last period), tried to call my doc to get verbal orders for at least the other two they had knowledge of. Doc's office opens at 8 AM. His phone lines don't. So I ended up getting only my first ever bone density test.

I had to research that one. My imagination invented several ways of them coming up with how to measure that, none of which was correct. Which is actually a good thing! There are times my imagination is a fearsome thing. Turns out to be an x-ray procedure where you first prepare by wearing nothing metal, which I knew about ahead of time though had forgotten for which test that was. For me this means one pair of long pants in my wardrobe fits the bill. No bra in the house comes without some metal. At least today is unusually cool so long pants are no problem to wear for a few hours. No comment on the bra, other than it feel just like ongoing quarantine, but out in public. There was a long decision process over which top I could wear discreetly. Then you also prepare by not taking any calcium supplements, multivitamins,  or calcium rich foods for 24 hours ahead of time. 

(Oops, forgot to take those upon return, back in a mo.)

That one I hadn't heard, at least not in time for the full 24 hours ahead of the test. Just long enough that I woke up around 2 AM with those ankle muscle cramps again, the ones where my foot tries to twist around like Linda Blair's head in The Exorcist. Always the left ankle.

Be happy if you don't get those.

Anyway, you just lie down flat on a padded bed while a machine moves over you, stops to get your hips, then you bend your knees up with your feet pigeon toed while it gets your lower spine. Or maybe it's the other way around, but it doesn't matter. They know how it works so I don't have to. 

The pigeon toes are a stretch.  We had a nice chat about how doctors give kids (mostly) weird shoes to keep them from having pigeon toes. Now suddenly they're a requirement.

I stopped at the desk again before leaving to see if my doc had either faxed or verbally given the orders for the two other procedures which had a chance of happening today. No chance of course. So I headed home.

About a mile away from home  I started hearing this thunk thunk thunk as the car slowly rolled ahead after a stop. I pulled over, put it in park, and looked around the back of the car for any possible reason for it. Nothing. By the time I was back in, my "fill tire" light was on. I hadn't seen anything looking like a flat, but decided to get a second opinion. Once home, I had Rich observe my car in motion in the driveway. He pinpointed the noise, rear driver's side, but no clue why. So I pulled up and parked. 

This time the cause was brazenly sticking out. It was a sort of "s" shape of steel, about 9 gauge, with one end bent and impaling my tire. I had never seen anything remotely like it in my path on the drive. After a quick stop in the house to let Steve know what was happening, and a 5 minute search through the pack of info in the glove box where I keep proof of maintenance, batteries, inspections and cab cards, insurance proof, oil changes, repairs, and... NEW TIRES, I was on my way. Less than a year old, under 10,000 miles on them, and proof that I'd decided to get the warranty with the purchase. 

It also had the name and address of the tire place, because I'd forgotten both in the meantime. I drove immediately, though slowly, there to get the tire either repaired or replaced. No sense in letting any more air escape, at least not enough to give me a flat or even a damaged wheel. Note, please, that this car has no jack, lug wrench, nor toy tire. 10 years ago I would have changed the tire before heading out. Today, had the proper equipment been included with the car, I would have had Rich change the tire. Hey it's one of the reasons I taught both my boys how to change one.Today I lucked out and got to the tire place just 3.7 miles from the start of the impalement, including the quick stop home.

Under an hour later, and not a penny poorer, I headed home for the day. I was even back earlier than I would have been had all 4 procedures been done. Now I get to wait a few days  for the scheduler to call again. I can ask her a couple of gently worded but pointed questions. But the calendar is so crowded right now that I can't possibly set any appointments without checking it first. 

This'll be fun.

Spacing Out

From "out of space" to "spacing out" - I bet you can tell it's still more of the same story, just me playing with titles. Yep, my laptop is nagging me that I'm still out of space. 

Sigh....

More purging needed. I need to figure this out, or Rich tells me that the next step is upgrading my hard drive. I'm sure Apple would explain patiently how my laptop is so obsolete that it can no longer be upgraded. They pulled that with the last laptop, and I wound up spending a lot of money as well as losing a lot of files because the new OS uses a different word processing format. It wouldn't have been a problem, I found out, had the old one enabled my exporting files to pdf format. Fortunately, the old one still links to my printer, so I can get hard copies of the old stuff, but that means anything I still want to access on the new laptop, this one that's running out of room, will have to be printed out, retyped in to this one, and saved here. I did a quick scan of those files this morning and I really like and/or need many of those files. For one example, there is a 4 page list of all my southwest pottery acquisitions with a brief description and the artist if known. Many of the items have illegible signatures on the bottoms and I'm clueless without that paperwork, aside from my having organized them together under a pueblo designation and haven't moved them since.

Trust me, they need dusting!

But there has been more progress on clearing out stuff since my last post. It's part of why I haven't posted for a few days. First, I've been going through photos some more. Of course, it seems that the more I delete, the more crowded the system gets. Yes, I know my system holds deleted photos for 30 days, quite sure that I will change my mind within that time and reclaim those nearly lost treasures. Well, I still have over 6,000 photos there. I've been slow about purging out pointless trip photos from last summer. I also did a whole lot of redundant and pretty awful shots from the back yard while cooling my jets during the covid quarantine. I don't need semi-weekly updates on how a particular plant progresses. Sure, it's nice to have them available in order to pick through which 5 of the 50 tell the necessary story, more if I'm propagating it. I'd been doing a pretty good job of purging, noting there were over 3,000 photos in the 30-day trash. I also, upon very confidant prompting by Rich that it must be available, finally located the tab for deleting everything currently in the photo trash file. It's kept separate from all other trash files, and I hadn't needed to go that deeply into the program until now. 

That did such a good job that I went and deleted another 300+ trip photos before my laptop started nagging me again that it was too full! OK, permanent delete of those too.

But I still needed more to be cleaned out. What to do next? Now I'm sure many of you are snickering, well aware of lots of ways to clear out old junk. I even have a passing familiarity with a process whose name I can't recall that reorganizes stuff on the hard drive so the empty spaces between bits and bytes get pulled out so it's more efficient in storing what's there and can find and use the newly opened spaces speedily. Maybe some of you can even supply the word I lack so I can pursue that option as well.

(Hint-hint. Anybody? Anybody? Bueller?)

But I did note that I can clear my search history. Before starting, however, I had to wait for another time when Rich was mentally available, as in not involved in his own complicated project, to quiz for how to do it without deleting the wrong things. I don't care if folks I've bought something from three years ago can no longer find me to plaster my pages with their targeted ads. I do care if PayPal recognizes it's me when I pay for the next whatever I choose to purchase online. After clearing that by Rich by checking/unchecking various options, I hit the button and watched it take 10 seconds to delete what I'd just told it to. Must have been full!

Of course, I had to pay a bill this morning online, and the site I was on wasn't sure it was me doing it. Oops. So I'll be going back through most of those and making sure the ones I want still know who I am. Luckily I write down every login and password, now that I've finally been convinced to quit using the same one for everything! They take up a full page in size 11 font! Took me a full minute to locate the info needed to log into Blogspot! That's one of the few which hadn't "suggested" I change my password 15 times. (I've got some prime cuss words for those companies I insert into their passwords!)

So far today, however, I haven't gotten that too-crowded message. I've no doubt it'll recur. So I'm going back to purging photos after I finish this...  uhhh, after lunch. Haven't had that yet. I figure there are still a whole lot to delete in there, and now that I'm back into making jewelry it's time to start adding photos again.

Eventually maybe I can load that latest security upgrade for Apple stuff that my laptop has been refusing to put in. After all, that's what started this. Well, aside from those photos.

Out Of Space? WTF!

My laptop has been nagging me the last few days. A persistent pop-up bar insists I'm running out of space on this thing and I need to clear stuff out. 

My first thought was I've accumulated too much in my photos library. Deleted stuff gets held for 30 days in case I should ever come to my senses and rescue all those imperfect treasures. Not sure how that made sense, since when I combined pics from an old laptop with the current ones well over a year ago, there were 15,000 or so until I started getting brutal with my decisions. No nagging pop ups back then. It's an enormous temptation to keep absolutely everything, since they all mean something to me. But I know better. After this summer's vacation I put off scouring out the new crop of duds, so it was time to dig in. Somehow, the more I did that, the more often that pop-up nagged me. 

Wasn't I doing it right?

I decided to focus on the videos. Most are pretty awful, badly in need of editing and major cutting. None were recorded using a tripod, so wiggle wiggle bounce, leave the subject and return  - kinda, and so on. I played them and saved a couple from each set of several. The baby pictures were hardest, since they are all precious. But their mom has copies and can do what she likes on her end. I'll settle for the best of the best, so I got rid of a bunch of those.  Not done yet, but I'm down a couple thousand, pics plus videos.

You'd think that would make a big difference, wouldn't you? The pop up still popped up regularly. I repeated my search for a way to eliminate deleted photos sooner than 30 days, but no go. Pop! Pop! Getting desperate here folks. How can I continue to delete what I think are the problem if I run out of room to do it in?

I went into the files I keep in folders on my laptop. The primary use is keeping club minutes, but the latest club treasurer has the skills to take my emailed pdf files and save them on the club computer. No more overflowing filing cabinet for the club, no sir! I got rid of all but the most recent.

Still getting the pop ups.

Finally a light bulb went on in my brain. How long does my email keep old stuff? I know I clear out trash periodically. A quick check showed a few hundred since last purge. Tap tap. Gone. Hmmm, spam too? Now gone as well.

But how many drafts still sat in their folder?  Oops, just a few, not the problem. One desperately needed to be sent and I hadn't noticed it wasn't. Also gone now. 

I'd just gone in and cleared out my inbox, at least the stuff I didn't still need since the oven was installed, the insurance company sent the check, and a bunch of conversation threads were no longer needed. The inbox alone took about 15 minutes to clear out, but that was just last week and I was still getting pop ups.

I re-cleared the trash folder. Still not the problem. What else? Wait, how about the "sent" folder? I tend to send out pictures to a bunch of people at a time, and comments come back attached to what I sent out, meaning those same pictures are coming back, adding to the pile with each comment. I try to start new threads, but even those can turn into lengthy conversations, particularly with a few of my friends who need somebody to "hear" them. How many "sent" emails were backed up? I can't recall ever emptying that folder.

With each conversation counting as one, no matter how much back and forth there was, I started deleting those. My fingers got tired, so to pause I went over to trash and recleared it. 378 conversations, now down the drain. I was still in 2021. Keep going. After doing the same until my fingers needed a break, I was back to 2019, and another seven hundred something conversations gone. I forget now - already! - how far back in the calendar I went, but I figured out by the time the last "sent"conversation got thoroughly deleted, I'd hit that set of buttons around three thousand times!

Good thing I know just where the ibuprofin is kept. No pain typing this, anyway.

So now I just need to see if that pop up is still popping. If that didn't do it, I don't know what will. But you can be damn sure that my email folders will get regular scrubbing - except for the ones I archived, of course.

Boostered

Booster shots are required for different reasons. First, there is the legal requirement for the dog to get boosters of her rabies vaccine at various intervals during her lifetime. When we adopted her a year ago, since there was no history on her as far as vaccinations went, she got one of everything, minutes before I took her home. (I guess they weren't going to spend the money/effort until she was paid for?)

Getting the shot translated into a license renewal was interesting. They - like seemingly everybody these days - want you to do it online. They also require you to mail in a hard copy of the paperwork you get from your vet proving your dog actually got the vaccine.  After fighting with their website for a couple minutes - my patience wears thin easily these days - I just filled out the form they'd mailed me, added my check for $10, along with the proof of vaccination, then popped it in the mail, aka put it on the clip near the mail slot in our door. We'll see what they need next year, since her rabies shot this time is good for 3 years. 

The vet did try to inspire me to fork over the dough for a whole list of other vaccinations, but they couldn't quite get there. After all, she is an indoor dog except for toileting, and that happens inside a fenced yard where no other dogs enter. How would she get exposed to anything? The monsoon dried up in this area just as we got here, and I have yet to see/feel a mosquito in the area. Any extra vet budget was whirled away down the sucking siphon of oven replacement expenses.

Every year Steve and I get our influenza boosters. Not only do they wear off - like we're hearing with covid -  but varieties of what's circulating change each year. They're kind of hit-and-miss, but we always hope that they have the psychic ability to choose ahead of time which versions will be prevalent several months in the future. One can hope that perhaps the technology which enabled rapid manufacture of the covid vaccines can be adapted for influenza and we can get more targeted shots, since I don't really trust anybody's claim of psychic powers. Anyway, we spend our flu season months well away from all those adorable little germ-wagons we delight in visiting and hugging in the summers.

Of course, we now know that our Pfizer needs boostering, being past 7 months since the second shot. We qualify by age and comorbidities, as well as desire to stay as well as possible. I asked my pharmacist how long we needed to wait between covid and flu shots, and was told they could be done simultaneously. Since I also had my annual physical this week, I asked the doc as well. He recommended two weeks between. So this morning I proceeded to get my covid booster. Mid month I'll go back for the flu shot. I'm still masking in public, just because.

Previously when I've gotten shots there has been a chair for sitting in while you wait the  suggested 15 minutes to be sure it doesn't kill you. Or just make you light headed, perhaps. Today there were 5 chairs and they were filled. Three more people were standing, waiting. In the time it took to fill out two sheets of forms, two of the chairs cleared up, unexpected since the standing people were still standing. I sat long enough to become sufficiently bored to notice that under the nearby shelves there were several bottles which had fallen onto the floor and rolled underneath the shelves. Apparently their brooms don't reach that far.

Or they just need to train more diligent employees.

During my shot the pharmacist giving it wasn't nearly as adept at getting a needle in and out painlessly as the crews at State Farm Stadium during the initial January/February rush to vaccinate. She did, however, attempt to reassure me that most of the feedback they'd gotten from folks getting their booster had said the side effects from the booster were much milder than their 2nd shots last winter. I wonder what that feels like when there were zero side effects back then. What's less bad than zero? Do I feel immediately better than normal? How do you simply match that high from last winter of having any kind of hope of not getting covid, and of finally getting back to whatever resembles normal these days?

Steve was planning to get his booster this morning as well, but his knees have been kicking up such a storm that he's planning on staying in bed as much as possible instead. Just as well he didn't head up on his scooter this morning (his pharmacy is much closer than mine so we go separately) since he'd given me his vaccination card for safekeeping. I needed to hand mine over temporarily before getting my shot. I presume his would have been required as well. When he's ready, I'll happily drive him up. His pharmacy is in the local grocery store, and I'm out of ice cream!