SNAFUs and stuff

My Father’s Day gift arrived this week (the drone aircraft), and my good RV buddy, Dan Quinn, offered to help me set it up and show me how to use it. What a nice guy he is!

Dan warned me that, when he got his almost identical drone last year, it took him about 24 hours before he could actually use the thingamabob. And, he is a retired electrical engineer.

Poor Dan spent pretty much all of Wednesday (into the evening) trying to get the I-Pad controller set-up properly…to no avail. Even the online support guys from the manufacturer agreed…Craig had a “lemon”. So, we collectively gave up and shipped the whole thing back to China or wherever it came from.

(I’m wondering if Mr. Craig Manning is one of the first casualties in the U.S.-China trade war. Probably Chinese Premier Xi told his manufacturers, “That Trump asshole wants to fuck with us? This is what we’ll do: Send our good stuff to friendly countries and the defective shit to America. Trump’s constituents will then have to spend endless hours on the phone with customer support guys from Pakistan. They’ll hate it. Ha ha.”)

We’re staying in a nice RV park here in Oregon. You’d think, for the money, the facilities would be pretty nice. Think again. I trooped over to the showers this morning and was greeted by…cold water only! Ooooooh, that’s not nice. I had to do a very quick G.I. shower and then run back to the warm RV. I’ve probably still got un-rinsed soap in my public hair. Oregon sucks.

This snafu reminds me of my first day of training at Sheppard Air Force Base in Wichita Falls, Texas back in 1969. It was winter when we arrived…snow on the ground. We were shepherded into a run-down Quonset hut that hadn’t been occupied in a long time; this would be our barracks. We were told to take showers and get ready to go to mess (dinner). All of us jumped into the giant shower facility…to be greeted with icy cold water. You know it’s cold when your skin instantaneously turns blue. I’m sure there was a camera somewhere in that area, recording the young grunts jumping up and down as they FROZE TO DEATH…and probably, in a room down the hall,  a couple of Technical Instructors laughing their asses off at the images on the video monitor.

That’s OK; we got even with them by losing the war.

Other than the cold showers, we are having a nice time here in Coos Bay. The weather has been “coastal cool”. It would be nice to have the sun come out a little earlier in the day, but that’s what you get when you’re near the ocean, just like Orange County in SoCal.  And, the alternative: it’s now averaging 90 degrees plus back in Murrieta, soon to be in the 100’s. Thus, the whole purpose of our annual Oregon sojourn.

Speaking of the home front, I got a phone call this morning from Dave Wulfsberg, a Bear Creek golfing/bowling/poker friend of many years. He’s a retired lawyer who used to be pretty athletic and has suffered a number of physical ailments like arthritis, bad knees and hips, etc. I mentioned to him that my right hip has been sore for about a month; it feels like a groin pull that won’t go away. That’s when he gave me the news: “Time for hip replacement, Sir”. Dave has had both hips surgically replaced, so he knows the warning signs and the drill. Actually, he said, hip replacement is a snap: surgery, one night in hospital, take it easy for a few days, do some rehab, and “good as new” after about three weeks or so. Hmmm…I think I’m going to look into that, ’cause it sucks to limp around like Chester on “Gunsmoke”.

We got some photos of our Mesquite building site this week. Pulte is about ready to pour the slab. Our friend, Jason, who used to do project management for Pulte, says that, typically, it takes 80-90 days from that point to completion. I hope that happens to us, because that would put “closing” at around October 1st. It would be great if that happens, because we need to do some landscaping before we move into the joint on or around November 1st. Vaya con Dios, senores!

I got beat up by Peggy Quinn yesterday; I may file charges. The dogs were playing on the artificial grass while we were having adult beverages. I put a lot of toys on the grass so everyone could pick their favorite. Of course, when Baby is in the mix, any toy that any other dog wants or has becomes her target; she’s got to learn to share better. Anyway, I tossed a rope toy, his favorite, toward JayJay, and Baby jumped him, trying to snag the thing. The two then got into a “bitey face” fracas for a few seconds. This somehow pissed off Peggy, who proceeded to get mad at me and pounded me with her fists. Go figure; dogs face off, and I get my ass kicked.  My attorney Michael Cohen will shortly be contacting hers…

Our dogs, like all Bostons that I’ve met (thru Boston Buddies, the rescue organization) occasionally disagree with each other over trivial things and go into the “bitey face”/fake fight mode, growling and snapping in the direction of their supposed enemy. It lasts a few seconds, no one actually gets bit, no blood, maybe some hurt feelings, and, then, 20 seconds later, they are asshole buddies again. Go figure; they’re dogs, for gosh sakes.

I spend a lot of time trying to pyschoanalyze our three mutts, and it’s to no avail, as far as I can tell. I’m sure that my effort includes (subconsciously) imputing human characteristics to the wacky trio, and, then, can’t understand why they don’t think like me.

It’s been quite an adjustment for Booger and JayJay having Baby in the house for the past year or so. She’s a puppy, so she’s annoying (i.e. pushy, very active, demanding attention, bad manners, greedy, etc.) at times. Booger likes to play with her when Booger wants to, but Booger will throw in the towel when she gets tired or Baby gets to combative. JayJay, who has never been a ball chaser (something that Booger and Baby like), used to be playful when a tug-of-war opportunity arose. And, the two older dogs used to occasionally wrestle on the ground, play good-natured “bitey face” wars, etc., indicating to me that they generally liked each other.

But, now, the dynamic of the threesome has taken its toll on the older dogs. Booger is somewhat subdued in the RV because of Baby, and won’t play ball chase (because Baby dominates the game), while JayJay basically withdraws from any play, including tug-of-war, because Baby is so aggressive and quick. They seem to be thinking, “Go play with yourself, Bitch!”

Then, again,  Booger and JayJay are going on 11 and 12 years of age, and maybe thinking (in human terms), “Been there, done that”. Plus, cruel, Old Man Arthritis has probably left his invisible mark on them.  So, they are getting cranky, like all of us old f-ers are, and they’ve earned the right.

So, Charlie and I will just have to target extra special doses of love toward them each day, and let them know, in little ways, that they are still our Top Dogs.

 

 

 

 

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