A Few Days of R & R

Instead of fighting traffic on Seattle’s I-405 and I-90 in order to get to my part-time work gig in the Wallingford district, I am happily sitting at my desk and catching up on things on my laptop. 

I’m enjoying the American “vacation”. 

We had originally planned to take a driving trip to California at this time, but “busy-ness” and some “under-the-weather” conditions have changed that.  Instead, I’ll have the better part of a week to visualize, analyze and maybe even fantasize.

A week ago yesterday Kay Lynne and I enjoyed a wonderful introduction to time off when we visited the Training Camp of the Seattle Seahawks – all compliments of our son, Doug.  He set it all up, and all we had to do was get on the bus from the Landing (the shopping center where you park) to the Virginia Mason Athletic Center in Renton (VMAC) where the Camp is located.  It’s a great chance to see the rookies, veterans and hopefuls up close and watch the action as they train very seriously. 

The photo at top shows now veteran starting quarterback Russell Wilson let fly with a long, 60-yard pass during a warm-up drill.  Note the ball in the upper left.  And of course that’s beautiful Lake Washington in the background.  This has to be one of the finest practice facilities in all of professional football.

I’m not sure what all we’ll do in these days of “vacation” but hopefully we’ll catch up on things and maybe even get some rest.  Next week we might even take a short trip southward for a day or three.  One thing is for sure.  You can count on the fishing pole being in the back.

 

Life Goes On…

In a previous post I talked about the shock one goes through when one realizes that cancer has invaded the body.  Almost five months have passed since then, and with the completion of radiation treatments, life is looking more normal now.  It’ll take a couple of months before we’ll know exactly how successful the treatments were, but the doc has said we have good reason to be optimistic.

 

 

And, as the photo above shows, I’m even able to get out on the water in my pontoon boat to once again take up the aquatic search for piscatorial adversaries.  Life is returning to normalcy, and I am feeling just about as good as ever.

 

 A week ago today Kay Lynne and I watched soccer practice for our two youngest grandchildren, Nathan, almost 5, (#5 at left above) and Ally, just turned 2 (right above).  Watching your grandkids do anything is totally therapeutic and brings deep joy to us older folks.  Our other grandkids are in Europe for three-plus weeks, and granddaughter Aubrey, 11, decided she would take a plunge into the Mediterranean Sea on the Italian Riviera at the exact minute she was born on July 9 in Boise, Idaho.  The pic below shows her doing just that.  Gregg’s family is having the trip of a lifetime visiting most of the major European countries and following some of Gregg’s maternal grandfather’s war experiences, including visiting the concentration camp in Germany liberated by his unit.

 

The summer is shaping up to be interesting, fun and full of wonderful things to do with family and friends.  Life goes on…



A Cold Water Shock From “The Dreaded Words”

I never expected to hear "the dreaded words" directed at me.  I don’t think anyone ever does.

Life – especially in retirement – has a way of lulling you into your particular zone of comfortable existence. 

In that genre, days go by, and time passes mostly uneventfully.  Reality seems to mimic the feeling of living in a cocoon-like blur.  

Coasting along contentedly in that relaxed haziness, suddenly, one day, you are confronted with three words that clear the fog instantly and jar you to your senses like a splash of ice cold water in the face: 

“You have cancer.”

Whether I consciously realized it or not, my life was abruptly an apple cart upset.  I had no idea so many thoughts could go through one’s mind so quickly. 

I told my wife the news as soon as I got off the phone with my doctor.  I could hear the words coming calmly out of my mouth, but I knew I wasn’t processing what I was saying.

My immediate reaction was to look for positive things amidst the distressing news (that’s just my nature).  Let’s see, I quickly remembered, the doc did say it was treatable – and there were no words like “urgency” or “short time” or “limited options.”

What he also said was that I’d have to have a couple of important tests, including a bone scan, (utilizing hi-tech equipment similar to that shown in the photo above) to see if the disease had spread.  A biopsy had revealed the sarcoma was centralized in the prostate gland.

The human male species and prostate cancer are inevitably intertwined.  My doc told me that in the studies he’s seen regarding autopsies on men over age 90, NONE had ever been done without finding some degree of malignancy in this strategic male organ.

For a male, it appears to be virtually inevitable.  As you age, you WILL get prostate cancer.  Fortunately, the majority of manifestations occurs later in life, and most are of the “watch and wait” variety requiring no immediate treatment.  Mine, however, needs some therapy.

In future posts I may delve into some of the things one has to deal with regarding accepting, processing, and dealing with the many ramifications of what has happened.   I’ve discovered that, for me, just writing about it has somewhat of a cathartic effect – and perhaps a person or two may even  find some resonance in it. 

The good news is that with proper care and treatment, I’m told that my malady should be able to be completely eradicated and that I’m likely to remain an ageing and somewhat cantankerous old fisherman for quite a while to come.   But for the short term I’m focused on adapting to treatment and learning to live with cancer.

Perfect Weather Enhances Victoria, B.C. Trip With Long-Time Friends

It isn't often you get to visit a real castle.  But we did so last weekend on a trip to Victoria, B.C. with our long-time friends, Dwight and Lynnette Klassen, from discovery Bay, California.  Dwight and I have been friends for over 50 years, first meeting as incoming freshmen at Westmont College in Santa Barbara, California.  That's Craigdarroch Castle above, located in the heart of Victoria.  Completed in 1908, the castle was primarily the home of coal barron Robert Dunsmuir (the namesake of the city of Dunsmuir, California) and his wife, Joan, and several children and grandchildren.  It has also served as a military hospital, a college and a music school.







Above are Dwight, Lynnette and Kay Lynne at the entrance to the castle.  Below is the "everyday" dining room of the Dunsmuirs, reflecting the opulence in which the very rich lived at the beginning of the 20th century.

The formal dining room used when there were guests was even more elaborate.





We arrived in Canada on Friday evening and made our way to Brentwood Bay, where Kay Lynne and I had first visited about 40 years ago.  Then it was called Brentwood Inn and was a small motel with a coffee shop.  Now it is Brentwood Bay Lodge and Pub with hundreds of waterfront rooms and a dock and marina at water's edge.  That's the four old friends above, Lynnette, Dwight, Kay Lynne and moi.

On Saturday, we visited the Royal Canadian Museum, also in downtown Victoria, known for its exhbits of pre-historic creatures and its re-creation of Victoria streets as they looked about 100 years ago.   Above photo is a reconstruction of one of the dinosaur skeletons.

Saturday morning we spent down at the harbor.  Above pic was taken from a harbor dock looking toward the famous Empress Hotel.  We passed on afternoon tea this time.

We enjoyed absolutely fabulous weather for the entire weekend -- an unusual occurrence in Victoria.  On the way back to the ferry dock in Sydney for the return trip home, we stopped and had lunch at the Rum Runner Pub, a delightful eatery.  Above is the view from the restaurant looking back toward Anacortes and Mt. Baker, which you can make out in the distant mountain range just to the right of center.  You can click on any photo for a larger view of it.  The ferry ride back through the San Juan Islands was the perfect ending to a wonderful weekend.

Photo Post - A Whale of A Good Time With Friends

The killer whale called the Orca (above) is what we were seeking to view in its natural habitat.  Our long-time friends, Ed and Darlene Wall from San Jose, California, visited us last week, and so we went on the Victoria Clipper on a whale-watching excursion last Thursday.   On the 2-1/2 hour search on the Clipper we did see several Orcas swimming in families -- all but one from the local "J" pod, but none as close as in the shot above, which was taken on a similar trip in 2008.

Above, we are approaching the Deception Pass Bridge at the north end of Whidbey Island on our way to where the whales frolic, mostly in the Strait of Juan de Fuca adjacent to the San Juan Islands.  The area just past the bridge was shrouded in fog for several miles until we got out in open water.

After the whale-watching, we pulled into Friday Harbor to have a late lunch.  Coincidentally, the Washington State ferry, the Yakima, was just pulling into her berth, presumably on her way to Sydney, BC, near Victoria.

Above are Ed & Darlene making their way back to the Clipper after a short shopping jaunt following lunch.

The actual harbor at Friday Harbor bustles with activity all the time.  As in any Washington State harbor, you'll find a diverse variety of locally owned vessels.

Just as we were getting ready to board the Clipper for our return voyage to Seattle, the movie-famous schooner, Spike Africa, chugged back toward her berth after an afternoon of charter sailing with a load of tourists.  Built by well known maritimer, Bob Sloan, she is functionally elegant and provides an unforgettable sailing adventure for all who climb aboard.

Three Ancient Jocks Attempt to Conquer Spring Training in Phoenix – Post #3

We Actually Saw Some Baseball


Amidst the disorientation, forgetfulness, old-men-driving-in-a-strange-town-antics, and just general tomfoolery that all went on during our time in Arizona, we actually saw some baseball!

In fact, all three games that we took in were good baseball games other than the scores, which in two cases at least, could have been different. The first game we saw featured the Giants hosting the Cubs in Scottsdale. The good guys (Giants, of course) scored first but ended up losing the game, 8-6.

We sat behind a boisterous group of Cub fans who were enjoying the 85-degree temps with us, and who normally would be happy to be away from the friendly confines at this time of the year, but the temps in Chicago were not far behind – very abnormally in the 60’s. A gal, who obviously knew her baseball and who also was not afraid to speak her mind, began raving about the Cubs reorganization and their new president, youthful phenom Theo Epstein.

Unfortunately, the Cubs, again this year, are not figured to go anywhere in the NL Central – not with St. Louis, Milwaukee and even Cincinnati in that same division. The gal yakked on and on about Epstein, so finally I asked her, “What’s so good about him so far?” (the Cubs haven’t made many changes in the time he’s been with them).

Her answer: “He’s cute.”

About then the Cubbies rallied for a few runs and all the Cub fans came to life. I was born in Chicago, so I’m not exactly a Cub-hater. But the best part of this game, for me, was that I think sitting in the hot sun for several hours put the nail in the coffin of the bad chest cold I had had for a couple of weeks previous.

The second game we saw was against the Cleveland Indians, again in Scottsdale. But this time our seats were down the right field line – Giants territory. In spite of that, we happened to sit behind a young couple who were from the Cleveland area but who had recently moved to Kentucky so the man could attend seminary. They were Cleveland fans.

He was a married Roman Catholic who was planning to enter the Diaconate (new to me) of the Church and eventually assist a priest in a local parish. He was a knowledgeable baseball fan as well as a smart seminary student, and so he, Joe and I had a wonderful discussion about the church, his mission – and baseball.

He may be one of the most interesting young men – if not one of the most dedicated – I’ve ever encountered. Dwight and his wife talked family dynamics (wives serve equally in the Diaconate) and kids (they had two young children). Another excellent game, which, incidentally, ended up tied at 6. They don’t go into extra innings in Spring Training.

The final game – Giants against my hometown Seattle Mariners in the Mariners stadium in Peoria – turned out to be the best game of all (pic above shows M's stretching and warming up before the game -- #20 is hard hitting Mike Carp). Giants bats finally came to life in this one, and they pretty much sewed up the game early, although the M’s came on late to get within a couple runs. Final score, if I remember correctly, was 8-6 Giants.

But the interesting thing was how beautiful the Mariners stadium complex was in comparison to the Giants’. The M’s are in a farther-out suburb of Phoenix and share the complex with the San Diego Padres; however, there is a beautiful new stadium, ample parking and a slew of restaurants and shopping across the street.

The Giants, on the other hand, play in downtown Scottsdale in an older park with uncomfortable seating and totally inadequate parking (see first post). The Giants facility is fine overall, but it’s obvious the newer complexes have many fan advantages.

I’d have a photo of the three of us normally in this post. Dwight had a lady take one on his FILM camera (he’s techno-challenged) but she somehow didn’t click the shutter correctly. So when he got home and developed the film, nothing was there but the shots he took.

He told me yesterday he’s looking at an iPhone. Guaranteed more interesting stories if he gets one. :-)  

Three Ancient Jocks Attempt to Conquer Spring Training in Phoenix – Post #2

My Smart Phone Saves Our Bacon

When three old codgers, once proficient baseball team mates, rendezvous in Phoenix some 50 years after their prime to take in several Spring Training games – well, strange things can happen.

Cell phones can vanish. Deteriorating brain cells can short out and cause the loss of all sense of direction. Meticulously laid plans can unravel. And it all happened the first day we were there (see previous post).

Of the three of us, Joe is probably the least tech savvy, but I’m not around him enough to really know. He’s a retired high school teacher, as is Dwight, and they obviously had to have enough skills to navigate the school system – of 10 years ago. However, Joe had given his cell phone to his daughter recently and came on the trip without one.

As we learned after the fact, Dwight’s cell had fallen out of the pocket of his loosely fitted pants onto the floor of his car on the way to his departing airport, and he arrived in Arizona without one as well. As for myself, I’m an age-appropriate tech junkie, so my phone was strapped securely to my belt.

Why is this important? My smart phone (an i-phone4) saved our bacon. Many times.

Of course the phone has built-in GPS, and so we were able to easily navigate out of the airport and quickly head in the right direction to the ballpark of the first game we were going to see. Dwight drove the rental car, I sat in the right seat as navigator, and Joe periodically – no, often – shouted what he perceived as warnings from the back seat – which were usually ignored.

The phone GPS system does not talk to you sweetly with directions. However, it is a good mapping device, and shows your location, so you can navigate better than if you had a paper map. And it’s search feature was primarily the element which saved the hides of these old, directionally handicapped friends.

For example, after the first game in Scottsdale on Tuesday, I just plugged in the name of our hotel in Mesa (we got by far the best deal there), and my trusty phone pointed the way without error. When we got hungry later in the evening, the i-phone suggested three great restaurants, all less than a mile away.

And so it went. When Joe needed to text his daughter, it was a snap. When we needed to find the Giants’ minor league practice facility (photo above) – no problem. And when we needed to find the best way to drive 60 miles to the Mariners’ game in Peoria on Thursday, the i-phone came through again.

I wonder how bad-off these three old friends would have been without a smart phone. Not sure I want to think much about that.

Three Ancient Jocks Attempt to Conquer Spring Training in Phoenix

POST #1 – Almost A Strike Out on Day One

I can’t remember exactly when we decided to go to Spring Training, but I think it was back in January. Several of us San Jose State college roommates (from back in the late 1950’s) had been emailing about which San Francisco Giants games we wanted to attend this year – something we did initially a few years ago.

Somehow we struck on the idea of going to Spring Training in Arizona where “you can see the teams and players up close,” rather than going to regular season games. After many digital discussions, we picked some dates that seemed to work. The Cubs at the Giants home stadium in Scottsdale last Tuesday afternoon (above photo), the Indians (also at Scottsdale) on Wednesday afternoon, and the Mariners at their home stadium in Peoria against the Giants on Thursday evening. We were happy with the schedule.

The two other guys, Dwight Klassen of Discovery Bay, California, and Joe Medal of San Jose, California are Giants fans of course. I’ve been a Giants fan since the Bobby Thompson home run in 1951 against the Dodgers, which got them into the World Series that year. All three of us lived together in college and have been friends ever since. Our birthdates are separated by only a month, and all of us love every aspect of the incredible game of baseball.

I should point out that we played a fairly high level of organized softball together for almost 10 years after college – not the slow pitch variety that is so popular now, but the fast pitch version where the ball travels nearly as fast as a baseball, but the pitcher’s mound is 20-feet closer to the batter than in baseball. If you blink at the plate, the ball is in the catcher’s glove.

Enough history. We planned to meet in Phoenix at Sky Harbor airport last Tuesday morning about 10:30, which would give us plenty of time to get to Scottsdale by the 1:05 game time. Or so we thought.

I tried calling Dwight’s cell phone as soon as I landed about 10:15. I muttered as the phone message said, “the Verizon customer you are trying to reach is unavailable at this time.” “Where could he be?” I thought. Dwight is not exactly a techno freak, and I immediately wondered if he had forgotten his phone (which has happened before).

I called his wife a bit later when I realized that Dwight and Joe came in at one terminal and I had arrived at another. There was no way we could meet “at baggage” as we had arranged, because each terminal had its own baggage pick up. STRIKE ONE.

I determined that the best chance of meeting up with them (especially if Dwight had no phone) was to take the shuttle bus over to the car rental center and we would likely run into each other there. Wrong. After an hour’s wait, I finally called Dwight’s wife at their home and asked if she knew if he had taken his phone with him. She had no idea, but thought so. So I told her I was at the car rental center in case Dwight called home asking if she’d heard from me. Turns out it was good that I had done so.

I then went over to the car rental agency with whom I knew he had made the reservation and asked if they had a car ready for Klassen. After several minutes of looking, the agent said, “We can’t find a thing under that name.” STRIKE TWO. And it was less than two hours to game time. I was getting very antsy.

Finally, a half hour later, here comes Dwight and Joe, looking frustrated and a bit disheveled. “Where’s your phone? I ask him. “It must have dropped out of my pocket in the car before I walked into the Oakland airport,” he said sheepishly. “I don’t have it.” Fortunately, he had been able to call his wife and find out where I was.

Ok, now to solve the car dilemma. Of course the biggest dilemma was the comedy of misunderstandings, wrong turns and incorrect assumptions made by three old men who used to be able to easily get ‘em out on the ball field. Age is not kind, even to old athletes.

To make a long story short, using my cell phone, Dwight finally tracked down the persons with whom he had made the reservation (a “travel club” with special deals) and we were able to get our car and head towards Scottsdale. In the frustrating process, we learned the rental agency would have been happy to provide us with a car for three days – but at more than $800! Our “club rate” was only $165, so we were pretty freaked until Dwight got it worked out. Amazing how supply, demand and a simple advance reservation can affect the price you end up paying. O yeah, and spelling the customer’s name correctly (they had it under Klaason, not Klassen, so the computer search did not bring it up).

Our buddy Joe just sat contentedly under his large, fedora-like wide-brimmed hat while Dwight and I stewed over the mix-up. Joe is a straightline guy – relatively unaffected by circumstance.

We finally arrived at the stadium just as the National Anthem was being sung. But of course in downtown Scottsdale, there wasn’t a parking place within a half mile of the stadium. We finally found a spot quite a ways away and began the long, slow walk. Tres viejecitos andando mas despacio.

The first good thing that happened to us that day was in the form of a pretty young college gal who was driving a converted golf cart that was carting passengers from their cars to the field. We jumped on, and, later minus $10, arrived at our seats just as the Giants were coming to bat.

The Cubs eventually won, 8-6, but something happened after the game that had NEVER before happened to any of us. We couldn’t remember where we had parked. New city. New ballpark. New streets. Pretty girl driving the golf cart. We were doomed.

For 45 minutes after the game we drove around the stadium area to no avail. We kept explaining to the kind post-game cart driver where we thought the car was, and he would drive there – but our car was nowhere to be seen. Dwight might could be excused as he sat up front next to the young lady, while Joe and I were talking in the back and never paid attention to where we got on the jitney. And I didn’t mark the gps on my phone.

Eventually the after-game driver found the car, based on descriptions of the area we each thought we remembered. Ageing is wonderful in many ways – but not when you’re in a strange place. It was almost STRIKE THREE, but we finally, sheepishly, got in our car and headed for the hotel.

Seattle Is A Wimp?

The Ken and Barbie wise-guys in Los Angeles called us Seattle folks “wimps” yesterday because they heard we were crippled and grumbling from the horrific snow and ice storm which is finally now on the melt.

O yeah? I’d love to see how they would handle the barrage of elements that hit us during the past three days. Tinseltown comments, by the way, are pretty much ignored up here in the real world.

Pictured above is what happens when a tree becomes snow-laden and then slightly melts in the day-time sun but then re-freezes in the night chill. The heavy ice that accumulates becomes too much for the tree to bear, and it comes down – not caring what is in the way. Pictured at the top, in contrast, is a sample of the beauty that can be gleaned even from adversity – both photos taken by SeattlePI.com).

When a tree falls on power lines, people are suddenly without electricity. Right now (Friday evening) almost a quarter of a MILLION homes still are in the dark. We were without power for 15 hours on Thursday, and that seemed like an eternity. But we were among the first to get our power back. I can only imagine how these folks are feeling as many of them are now approaching 48 hours of heatless homes.

Above is what our town house complex looked like on Wednesday morning looking out from our garage. Still tonight, the now solidly frozen, tire rutted snow is 6” deep – making it nearly impossible to even walk on. Yesterday, I could not navigate the 200 feet to our mailbox on the slippery ruts, grooves and frozen slush.  I simply didn't trust my decrepit knees to hold me up in the wind.

And I don’t consider myself a “wimp”. I grew up in Chicago which can have pretty hideous winter weather, but add steep hills nd an abundance of tall fir trees, and then you have what we have experienced here.

Temperatures finally rose above the freezing mark this morning, but it’s still looking like another day, if not two, before the melt-off is complete. More rain and slowly rising temps tonight are creating more havoc in some areas. Early today when melting snow caused a nearby river to rise suddenly, a car was swept away into the fast-moving water, and lives were lost.

We’ve lived in the Pacific Northwest for almost eight years. We’ve had longer winter storms in that time but none this intensely devastating. We’re thinking tonight of all of those still without power. Crews are coming in from out-of-state to help get things back to normal. It isn’t going to be easy.

Drive Around and Onto Mt. Rainier Brings Scenes of Beauty Unsurpassed

As long as we’ve lived in the Pacific Northwest, my wife and I had never driven up the road to Mt. Rainier and Mt. Rainier National Park. Yesterday we not only did that, but we also continued on around the back side of the mountain (eastern hemisphere), making a big “loop” as we headed home, and were rewarded with nothing but serendipitous beauty. Above is halo-clouded Mt. Rainier from still snow-laden Reflection Lake. You can click on any photo for a larger, down-loadable image.

We approached the great mountain and National Park from the western entrance, and in so doing, you pass through the little town of Elbe, six miles north of Mineral Lake and about 17 miles west of the Park entrance. It is here where the Mt. Rainier Railroad originates and makes summer weekend trips along rickety tracks to the Lake and back. We passed on the railroad ride and continued up the winding mountain road by car.

But while in Elbe, we stopped to take a photo of a beautiful, little white church for my buddy Ed Wall (who collects same), and to our surprise, not only was it a 105-year-old Evangelical Lutheran Church, but it was also a German Lutheran Church (Ed’s heritage is German). The photo above is the church, with Kay Lynne pleasingly gracing the entrance. (Eddie – if you need a shot sans KL for your collection, let me know, as I have one).

We used our Senior “Golden Pass” to gain free entrance into Mt. Rainier National Park and made our way another 15 miles or so to historic Paradise Inn and its famous restaurant, where we planned to enjoy the scrumptious Sunday Brunch Buffet. They did not disappoint. Below is Kay Lynne by the entrance to the Inn.

Sous chef Newnell had prepared to perfection just about every imaginable breakfast and lunch delicacy. There was more food than the eye (or the stomach) could absorb – salads, pastas, fresh fruits, pastries, blueberry cheese blintzes to die for, sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs, eggs benedict, waffles, salmon/lox, and an array of roasted meats. And that doesn’t even mention the devilish desserts of seemingly infinite variety.

We finally decided we’d had enough to last the day and, following taking the above shot of the Tatoosh Mountain Range across the canyon to the south of the Inn, continued our drive eastward along Stevens Ridge, through Box Canyon, arriving finally at the Grove of the Patriarchs and the east Park entrance (exit in our case), Stevens Canyon. The shot below looks north eastward from Reflection Lake toward our exit point.

From there, we drove north along Hwy 123 and merged with WA 410 just a few miles west of Chinook Pass. The drive home from that point was absolutely gorgeous with outside temps varying from 73-degrees at the elevations to 86 in the windless canyons. We followed the White River Canyon down into Greenwater and Enumclaw which approaches the back yard to our area.

All in all, an incredible Day Trip with wonderful memories.

 

Every Time We Move, I Say “Never Again”

A move is somewhere in the top five of things that cause stress. Only a divorce, a death in the immediate family or a job loss is said to cause more anxiety than changing your address.

But that’s exactly what my wife and I did at the end of last month – yet once more. We moved from a northeast burb of Seattle to a southeast burb of the city – ending up almost an hour or so closer to our son and his family in Oregon and a little closer also to our other son and his family who live on Seattle’s Eastside.

A few moves ago, we started counting the number of places we have lived since we were married. We stopped counting in the low 20s, and we weren’t nearly complete. Let’s just say that our sons know what it is like to live up and down the west coast – from a beach city like Santa Cruz, California to the steelhead and salmon paradise of Clackamas, Oregon in the foothills of Mt. Hood, and to the four-season Inland Empire area around Spokane, Washington.

There’s always been a seemingly good reason to move – an interesting job offer, a better climate, a nicer house, a business opportunity or maybe just wanderlust a time or three. This move was because we had an opportunity to purchase a smaller but comfortable town house at a really great price that should serve us well until we head for the old folks home. Truly, I/we hope this is the last move we have to go through for a long, long time.

O, btw, the fire hydrant in the pic above is ideal for our dog, Buddy.

Our new place is just large enough for the two of us and for two house guests a few days at a time. While you’re here visiting, my office will turn mobile (I’ll take my laptop into the master br). So, what are you waiting for? Come see us sometime.

Is Las Vegas Losing it’s Luster?

Kay Lynne and I spent a few days in Las Vegas this past week, mainly to enjoy some time in a warmer, sunny clime with lifelong friends, Dwight and Lynnette Klassen.

We encountered a city that is going through some enigmatic changes.

Of course we had to go through the casino to get to our room on the 21st floor of the Mirage, and we found the cavernous gambling center rather startlingly sparsely filled. Nearly three quarters of the slots and gaming tables were empty in a place that was relatively recently designed to accommodate large crowds of people.

We weren’t there long enough nor did we visit enough other places to make an accurate observation, but it sure seemed like there were FAR less people there this time than when we last visited the city in January of 2008.

There were two high points, for me at least, on the trip. The first was the latest Cirque du Soleil show, Viva Elvis (top pic -- look closely; those are acrobats on a large "jungle Jim" set designed in the shape of a guitar), at the incredibly beautiful Aria Resort in the new city center complex. Btw, the city center complex (photo above), in contrast to the Mega-Casinos, is bustling with activity – especially the Crystals Retail and Entertainment Center.

It’s hard to put into words what happens at a Cirque du Soleil show. It’s a truly unbelievable combination of art, physicality, acrobatics, music, sound, video, film and visuals. I would even call it “sensory overload”. Suffice it to say, if you haven’t seen a Cirque du Soleil performance – do so if you can!

The other high point was a visit to the new Hoover Dam Bypass Bridge which spans Black Canyon some 900 feet above the Colorado River. You can’t see much while crossing the bridge (it’s walled about five feet high on each side for safety reasons) but from the visitors center you can actually walk across the dam side of the bridge. Above photo was taken from a helicopter high above the structure after its completion last October but before traffic was allowed across it.

Dwight and I took a side trip to the site (on the north end of the Strip) of the Pawn Stars reality TV show on the History Channel. It’s amazing what television exposure will do. A perpetual long line of people stand in line daily to get inside the shop where Rick Harrison, his curmudgeonly father, son Corey and “gofer” Chumley roam the aisles. Interestingly, two nearby pawn shops were virtually desolate.

For Us, There Was No Better Time to Make the Switch

Our nice, comfortable SUV is now serving some new folks. After much consider-ation, we decided it was time to trade-in the nine-year-old Acura MDX and make the transition to a more fuel efficient automobile.

Pictured above is the “pre-owned” Toyota Prius we recently acquired that has catapulted us into the green age. I was fortunate to get an unexpectedly higher amount on the trade than I thought was possible, and that sealed the deal.

I wrote about the thinking which resulted in the transition to a hybrid in my column in last Sunday’s Kitsap Sun newspaper. To read it, just click here.

I finally had a chance to check the “around town” mileage today, and it came out to 47.8 mpg. At that rate, our monthly gas bill will be cut by just about two-thirds. I couldn’t be happier.

Fishing May Take a Back Seat For a While

Life in general, for this retiree, is getting busier rather than calmer. And I couldn’t be more jazzed about it.

Once you’ve been retired for a period of time, daily routines become less than challenging and efficiencies begin to erode. But it’s really only during the last six months or so that I’ve become more aware of the slide toward inadvertent time squandering.

As a result of an incredibly fortuitous set of circumstances, I now have a part time work assignment that I not only am most happy with but also that provides me with an ideal resolution for time malaise. On top of that, the southern California hi-tech company providing this opportunity operates using cutting-edge technology in its field and grants the opportunity for this older guy to stay on top of things.

The only factor for which I’ll now have to incorporate some creative efficiency is the fact that I’ll have less overall time for my favorite recreational enterprise: salmon, steelhead and trout fishing. Somehow, though, I’ve got a feeling I’ll still be able to work it in from time to time.

Btw, the pic is of the largest trout I’ve ever caught. It was a 17-pound Brown Trout that I hooked in Lake Michigan near Sturgeon Bay, WI three years ago this April. I still can appreciate it everyday because it's mounted on my office wall. (Sorry about the shirt dishevelment in the photo; I wasn't exactly focused on attire.)

Finding the “Right” Church Is a Challenging Experience

Since we moved to the Eastside (actually the NorthEastside) of the Seattle metro area just over four months ago, my wife and I have been “church hunting” on most Sundays. We’ve been to many churches once but we have visited two churches several times at least.

Today, after a wonderful worship experience at St. Andrews Lutheran in Bellevue (above pic), Kay Lynne and I agreed that we may not have to look much more. It’s a good feeling to be finally zeroing-in on what could become our church “home.” We very much miss the wonderful experiences we had at First Lutheran Church in Poulsbo when we lived in Kitsap County.

As an overview, St Andrews maintains a traditional, orthodox, liturgical worship service (which fits our particular needs at this point in life) with an inclusive, broad-based membership that crosses apparently all socio-economic categories as well as a fairly balanced age distribution from the very young to the very aged (thankfully :). Holy communion is celebrated each Sunday.

The primary preaching minister (and senior Pastor) is the Rev. James McEachran (right), a learned Bible scholar and superb communicator. He’s been at the church since 1983 and appears to be loved and esteemed by the congregation.

One of the things most attractive to us at St Andrews is the incredible variety of Bible studies and opportunities for growth and learning. It looks like there’s no excuse here for relaxing into complacency regarding one’s faith journey.

I won’t be so bold as to say our “church search” is over, but I think we both agree that we’re going to give St Andrews every opportunity to become our church home. Thanks be to God.

Flowing Lake Yields Nice Rainbow on First Trip

When I stuck my head out the door at 6:30 yesterday morning to check the weather for possible fishing, it felt very cold and it was raining steadily. A perfect reason to head back in for a few more winks.

But by noon the rain had stopped, and the sun, trying to peek through here and there, had warmed the temp a bit. I decided that an afternoon trip to Flowing Lake (see Jan 21 post) might be in the cards.

Finally got there around 3 p.m. only to find the “free” dock loaded with more fishermen than it was designed to hold. So I went back around the lake to the State Park at the north end where I had to pay a small fee to park and fish.

But I was then the only one on the dock.

The top pic, taken with my cell phone cam, shows how beautiful and peaceful it was from that vantage point. I was actually fishing by 3:30 and enjoyed a very quiet 30 minutes with nothing but an occasional dog bark in the distance.

I decided to move the bait a few feet along the bottom (a technique used to sometimes arouse a fish’s interest), and it wasn’t five minutes till the pole tip was twitching furiously.

The fish felt good, so I loosened the drag a bit and let him make several tiring runs. I was then able to ease him out of the water onto the dock to get a closer look at what I had caught. Not spectacular, but it was a very nice 15” rainbow trout (yes, I measured it – 15-1/4” actually – see photo above). He was what we call a “pounder” (weighs about a pound).

I left him in the water on the stringer to swim around until I gutted him just before leaving for home. That kept the fish nice and fresh in case we want to cook him up in a day or so. All in all, it was one of the best “first-time-at-a-lake” experiences I think I’ve ever had.

You Don’t Train Them; They Train You

We’re the humans and he’s the animal, right? So, who is in charge?

If you have a pet – especially a dog or cat – and you think you’re the one who controls things, you may want to give that some additional thought. Here’s what I mean…

This morning Kay Lynne was at a ladies’ function at church. I was reading (dozing, actually) in my recliner when Buddy, our Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, nudged my leg. He’s a great dog in that he doesn’t bark or tug at your pants when he wants to tell you something. He just nudges your knee.

I looked at the clock, and, sure enough, it was exactly the time we usually start to prepare lunch. But grandma wasn’t home, and I wasn’t paying attention to him. I explained to him that we’d eat in a short time as soon as she got home, and he finally accepted it and laid down.

I then remembered some similar behavior this past week. Our daily routine following lunch, if we’re home, is that I go down to my office to continue whatever I was doing, and Kay Lynne retreats to her work area in our bedroom. One day this week I happened to change the routine.

Buddy immediately came over and nudged me and whined a bit. At first I didn’t put together what was going on. But a little later when I finally went to the office, he plopped himself down beside me with a sigh. I suddenly got it.

Now that I think about it some more, he often even likes to anticipate what we’re going to do and beat us to it. After lunch, he’ll pick either where Kay Lynne will be or where I’ll be, and he’ll go sit by the appropriate door and wait. He's an "equal opportunity" dog, alternating his time with his “persons.”

Our little Bud knows exactly what should happen and when it should happen.. And if it doesn’t, he kindly lets us know.

So, who runs the show? I think we all know.

Where Did the Week Go?

I can’t believe it’s been a full week since I last posted. There must be something out of whack when you’re retired and time seems to fly faster than when you were working full time. Or do we just “slow down” when we age, and the passing of time is simply relative?

When we lived in California and asked the question “Where’d the time go?” the popular answer was “Aromas” (pictured is a farm there, and, btw, score ten points – other than Californians – if you know where it is). In Oregon, the response was, “Heppner” (anyone know where that is?). Here in Washington I’ve heard both “Humptulips” and “Forks” as west of the Cascades replies; on the east side “Edwall” comes to mind (watch for a comment soon to appear below).

All are real places where, supposedly, due to their remoteness and lack of connection with urban activity, time is not perceived as being a factor in daily life. I suppose we could spend much too much of that precious commodity trying to figure out if it’s us who are slowing down or time which is speeding up.

My father used to often observe that “time waits for no person” (he actually said, “time waits for no man” but I’ve “gender-neutralized” it to be hip and bring it up to date). No matter, though; time is still getting away from me.

More Dumps

Well, we got dumped on again today – and in more ways than one. Most of it, however, is related to just living in the cold, wintery Northwest. Our Cav Buddy is even wearing his football sweater during the cold spell.

The truth is, it hasn’t exactly been an upbeat week. You can see in the last post how the week started. Very disappointingly.

So today, a) we got dumped on with some more snow, b) the temps are in the 20’s, c) our main car sits in the repair shop still undiagnosed (coolant leak somewhere in the heating system behind the firewall), d) the back-up car sits in the garage with a dead battery (from non-use and freezing temps), and e) as the weekend approaches, more snow and icy temps are forecasted, and we not only have church and other responsibilities, but for the time, we are carless.

Not to worry, though; we did get the last of our Christmas letters in our mailmaid’s truck this afternoon. And, as Kay Lynne and I were mentioning at dinner, if this is what is to be, we are relatively fortunate. “Things” and circumstances can be handled. We need to be thankful we have a warm place to sleep and some food in the fridge. And a totally loyal Cavalier King Charles Spaniel who cuddles closely and keeps our feet warm.

Many (more this year) are out in the weather or, hopefully, at least seeking respite from the cold in shelters. For the first time in my lifetime I am seeing a look of fear in people’s eyes regarding what may happen.

My dad told me about the long food lines during the great depression of the early 1930’s, but it was always somewhat removed because I had no contact with it. Now we are seeing it first hand. The lines are increasing dramatically at food centers like Fishline where Kay Lynne volunteers weekly and at Helpline here in town and at our church where we have a supply of canned goods for those in need.

And, we think, by remembering those less fortunate and helping them as possible, it is very likely that our little misadventures will soon fade away.

Two more quick things: 1) it’s only a week till Christmas, and 2) tomorrow, had my father lived this long, would have been his 102nd birthday (maybe 103rd, depending on how you interpret historical dates and data).

Yesterday I Bought PREMIUM Gas for $2.99/gal

I wish I could make sense out of what makes gas prices go up and down. What’s noteworthy is that I filled my almost empty tank yesterday for LESS than $50 – at under $3 per gallon.

And I was happy. Because I didn’t have to give up my firstborn – like in the wry photo.

Seems like it wasn’t that long ago when I started to grumble if it cost more than $30 to fill my tank. A few months ago it cost $75 one time, and from then on I just added gas at $35 intervals.

Until yesterday. And thank goodness for nearby native American tribal-owned stations (who provide the lowest prices within 25 miles).

I guess we ought to make the best of the price drop while we can. I spose it won’t be long until the roller coaster starts uphill again. Us retired folks have enough trouble stretching dollars as it is.

Oh, btw, had they lived, today would have been my mom and dad's 74th wedding anniversary.