Greetings When We Arrive in Virginia -- The Hermit

21 April 2013; Virginia Estate--

Our arrival at this palatial setting on the banks of Maddox Creek was highlighted by a greeting from the Guardian of the Grounds, Mad Dog Grouch. This Old, One-eyed fuzz-face was fierce-looking, fierce-talking and fierce acting. [I was led to believe that he had once schooled a gang of thugs in Maryland by demonstrating the fine art of using a pistol to shoot clay pigeons out of mid-air. This shooting demonstration/lesson taught these young thugs to better be able to terrorize the neighborhood -- in a location other that in which Mad Dog lived.]

Meeting this wild-looking visage of a humanoid was alarming, to say the least; being met by him on the way in to visit my Daughter-in-Law and Grandchildren and Great Grandchildren was hair-raising!

After assuring this Old Man of our honorable intentions, Uncle Bob and I were allowed to venture deeper into the wilderness in which the Main House is sited, and subsequently provided every courtesy, including some of the strongest coffee -- short of Starbucks! -- that is available in the Free World. We were even permitted to stay and sleep in the comfort of a bedroom with an inner-spring mattress and running water, the latter surprisingly available in the tidy shack at which we first encountered Mad Dog.

 Upon arriving at the Main House, where my Daughter-in-Law lived, we found her proudly protecting her personal car, a vintage four-wheel drive Jeep. [Unfortunately, this otherwise very capable vehicle was handicapped by being equipped with "four-on-he-floor" gearing. Such are the kinds of cruel deprivations imposed on this lovely woman by the Man who thinks he is in charge.]

If this introduction piques your interest, stay tuned for more sequels to this Saga of the Senior Citizens in Virginia.

 

 

January "Stupidity" Report

28 January 2014; Grumpy's Castle --

It has been awhile since I have posted anything exciting [as if everything I post isn't exciting!], so I thought I ought to try to summarize all of the mischief up to which I have been, [aided and abetted by one kid brother!] since last I whined about other people -- mostly my descendants -- trying to dampen my enthusiasm for doing stupid things. Like driving to Mt Hood for breakfast on New Year's morning.

As previously reported, Uncle Bob [aka, kid brother] has been at the Castle since he and his bride [Adelaide] left the ski slopes in early January. As if I needed help in coming up with crazy -- let's call it like it is -- STUPID things to do, brother Bob is of great help in adding to and enhancing the fun of living "on the edge". That "edge", since last March 2013, now involves the Mooney. I sometimes refer to it as "our" airplane, although you should all know that it belongs to Bob -- except the cost of keeping it in the air with 100 octane low-lead fuel, and miscellaneous small parts and materials, while it is "home-ported" at Crest Airpark.

Typical mid-winter Seattle weather has kept us grounded much of the time. However, we managed a three-day excursion to the South a week or so ago. We flew to a fine airport* at Troutdale OR and rented "the smallest car" available [a four-door Ford F-150 pickup] at the airport, in which we drove up to spend two nights at Fort Bale.

At Fort Bale, besides being fed very generously with "Gourmet Food" ala "the Swede", we were also treated to a sound thrashing by the two Great Grandsons in lively games which they had acquired in recent Christmas and/or birthday celebrations. Restful sleep was afforded by both boys giving up their respective Queen-size beds to comfort we two "elderly" guests.

The third day, we drove from Fort Bale to Estacada OR where Granddaughter Amy, and husband John, lives with her five-boy, one girl flock. The two older boys (Malaki and Amos) were in school, so we missed seeing them. However, I got to hold my youngest Great Grandson Samuel and enjoy his cheerful demeanor.

Another treat was being welcomed by Great Granddaughter Elianna, who liked the fact that I had no beard -- as I had previously promised when I saw her last October near the end of our "Around the USA in the Mooney". Elianna pointed at my mustache as if to say, "How about that flea-infected briar patch?" However, when I questioned her about her opinion as to whether or not I should shave it off as well, she responded with a reassuring grin that "it was OK to remain".

At various times, this Great Grandfather got to hold more than one Great Grandchild at once. Since I enjoy the interplay with small children, I treasure each of these opportunities and look forward to them each time I visit one of my Grandchildrens' families.

The third day, we returned to Troutdale airport and flew back to Crest. Again, the East wind was brisk at Troutdale as we took off; this made for a quick lift into the air and a fast gain in altitude without much movement over the ground before we turned North for our homeport.

* The winds aloft were of no consequence on our flight from Crest to Troutdale. However, as we entered the "Columbia Gorge" area, a 25-35 knot wind [the wind velocity variation was due to gusts!] from the East greeted us and made for a sporty landing! I diminished the effect of the gusty conditions by making my approach and landing with minimal wing flaps and a higher than normal air speed. The head wind as I touched down resulted in a speed over the runway that was slower than normal. Taxiing up wind to the tie-down area involved a judicious control of airspeed during taxi so as not to take to the air again! A great experience!!

I'll Be Doggone! Darrell Turns Forty-One!!

Friday; Around Grumpy's Castle --

Well, it finally happened; Darrell, our "baby boy" finally reached the "ripe old age" of forty-one! Grumpy told him that he was now "over the hill", but Darrell argued, "No! That'll be when I turn fifty!" I guess it all depends on one's perspective, doesn't it? Maybe we are only old if we think we are; now that's a good thought!

One of Darrell's distinguishing features these past few months has been his black, bushy beard. He began growing it last Fall sometime and, to his Mother's great chagrin, chose to not even trim it.  At first he complained that his electric shaver didn't do a proper job. So Mother bought him a brand new one and Grumpy offered to trim his beard with the hair clippers, down to a length where the shaver could take over. But Darrell declined; besides, he said it kept him warm. Well, you shouldn't be surprised; with that tightly curly beard, it became more like a thick woolen coat over his neck and half of his face.

Finally yesterday, after his birthday lunch at his favorite Chinese Restaurant, and dessert at the local Baskins & Robbins, where Darrell requested a double ice-cream cone (think bits of ice cream in that beard all around his mouth!), we came home and Darrell asked Grumpy to begin "the process". Now Grumpy used to cut Darrell's hair from the time of his first hair cut up until he was about 6 or 8 years old when he accompanied me to my barber. After cutting my hair, the barber suggested that Darrell climb into the chair -- it was obvious that he needed a haircut as well. Grumpy objected, offering that Darrell's tightly curly hair was hard to cut. The white barber boasted that he "knew how to cut Black hair -- no problem!" Well, Grumpy should have known better, but he allowed this barber to try to cut Darrell's hair. The result: It looked awful!! Darrell was understandably embarrassed and from that day on, would not even allow Grumpy  to cut his hair any more.

But on Friday he finally wanted his beard cut and bravely allowed Grumpy to do it. The result was a much more groomed appearance as the accompanying photo shows. Darrell looked at himself in the mirror and agreed that it looked pretty good. Grumpy reminded him that he had always cut Darrell's hair until that disastrous job by the boastful barber.

Grumpy thought the trimmed beard looked fine. But Darrell would not let Grumpy stop there; he wanted it all off! So Grumpy proceeded, carefully avoiding pulling too hard on the tangled curls or nipping the tender skin under Darrell's chin. At last the youthful face we have known so well emerged!

Now Grumpy and the Grand Mother had expected that the shaver would be next, to remove the "five o'clock shadow". But, NO, Darrell insisted that it was now just the way he wanted it. At least now Darrell looked much younger. In fact, one of his teammates' Moms on his soccer team told him he looked like he was "in his 20's"! Grumpy agrees.