By STAN STAPP

WITH MY WIFE DOROTHY and her friend Jutta off to an Elderhostel in San Francisco, I'd be batching for a week - or should I say baching?

According to the dictionary "batching is the quantity of bread, cookies, and the like made at one baking". Not far off, for although I didn't do any baking, I did dine on quite a lot of cookies. On the other hand I couldn't find "baching" in the dictionary. The closest was "bachelor", defined as a "male animal without a mate during breeding season." Pretty close, I'd say.

I'd been quite happy before Dorothy took off: We'd gone ballroom dancing for the first time in several years, at the Good Time Dance Club, which dances monthly at the Blackburn Aurora VFW Memorial Hall in Lake City; I was enjoying the Christmas lights of my neighbor, Rob, still decorating an outdoor tree, all white lights that added some class to our Wedgwood neighborhood; I'd gotten around to going over all the electric wall plates in our house, tightening the loose screws, some of which, somehow unscrew themselves in about a year - why I don't know; discovered one morning that our oldest goldfish, Goldie, was lying on the greenhouse gravel, apparently having jumped out of his half-whiskey barrel home, how long he'd lain there, I don't know, but I picked him up, laid him gently in the water, and by the next day he was as good as new!

And now begins my Bachelorhood Diary.

SATURDAY: Dorothy off to Sea-Tac via Shuttle Express.

On my way to lunch at the Sunflour Bakery & Cafe (a short walk from home) pass by the house next to our backyard that had been recently sold. Several guys were outside the front door. Could they be the new owners? I inquired? "No," said one, "he's inside, follow me." In the living room was a gang of young fellows (obviously friends who would be helping with the moving). The new owner is Cashton Sessler, Cash for short - and I hope he has plenty! They all laughed when I described his friends as college kids. Well, maybe they were a LITTLE older. Cash, himself, is an attorney.

I told them about the five college kids who had lived there several years ago and how, when they gave their first party had sent written notices to about 20 neighbors. The gist of their message was: "We want to get along with our new neighbors. If we're too noisy, phone us and complain and we'll quiet down."

The boys used to invite me to their parties, and I went - but just long enough for one beer, departing when their girl friends began to show.

I continued down to the Sunflour, where I had "silver dollar pancakes," for lunch, and took home a large cinnamon roll for future use.

Later while cleaning the street gutter, Don Greenfield walked by, a friend of my brothers and myself in years past in connection with Washington Alpine Club activities, and discovered he lives but a few blocks away.

That afternoon worked on lining up my iMac alphabetical folders, and for the first time checked Dorothy's United Airline home base on the Internet and discovered the plane would be 110 minutes late. (She told me later, when she got home, that United offered her a ride on an earlier flight.)

SUNDAY: Lunch at Burgermaster in U Village, and bought myself a new broom at Safeway for outdoor use. We've got a lot of concrete: driveway, sidewalk, and gutter, and seven 70-foot trees dumping stuff on them everyday in the year.

I forgot to tell Vince, my Safeway checker-friend, that I'd left a broom in the grocery cart. So he rang it up on a separate slip. When I got home I discovered the name of another customer on the slip.

Afraid I might stick a stranger for the price of a broom, I phoned the store manager. "Don't worry," he said. The name is only in relation to "Club Card Savings," and the customer, who was probably the next one in line, won't be charged.

MONDAY: Phone call from next-door neighbor, Chris Cady: "Do you know that the flat part of your roof (right over my den) is deep in water?"

No, I didn't, although it had been cleaned a month ago. I hastily hoisted my ladder and cleared a handful of leaves from the downspout entrance - and about 3-inches deep of dammed-up water roared down the pipe. I found an old wire trap (shaped like a light bulb) and installed it in the drainpipe.

I then thanked Chris (she has a good view of our roof, and I have none of the flat area.) Chris promised to let me know if the roof is inundated with water again.

Lunch at Claire's Pantry in Lake City. My waitress, Julie, pointed out that the check was for $6.66, and perhaps it would be best if I paid it RIGHT AWAY! Now, you may know that 666 stands for the Mark of the Beast, and understand why I appreciated her warning.

TUESDAY: Lunch at the Wedgwood Broiler, soup and sandwich. Waitress accidentally spills some water on the table next to mine, a little on the lady seated there. The waitress and another one and several towels quickly sop up the liquid and so no great harm done. I always appreciate observing professionals handle touchy situations.

Today was a very satisfactory one with my iMac computer, for I finally learned how to Cut and Paste all by myself. What's next?

WEDNESDAY: Lunch at My Friends in Green Lake, having parked on 5th Avenue NE.

On return spotted an elderly lady shouting to me from her front porch: "I've been robbed! Can you help me? Can you call police?"

I ran up her front porch steps and inside. She said she'd been robbed three nights in a row - while she was sleeping. The drawers in her bedroom had all been pulled open, and she showed me a slender box in which she'd kept three diamond rings - and they were all gone!

I said I'd call police, and asked where were her telephone directories?

She couldn't remember, but I finally spotted them. I was trying to avoid using 911 as this was a non-emergency - and wanted instead to look up the North Precinct phone number. I was just starting to dial when came a knock at the front door.

The lady opened it and found two police officers there, apparently called by someone else. She excitedly began to tell them the same story she'd told me. I shortly excused myself, no longer being needed, and left the problem to the officers.

As I reached the sidewalk, who do I run into but a member of the Jet City Maven staff, Matt Patneaude, who lives next door, and was familiar with the situation.

That afternoon I spotted an oddity - a young boy with a double paper bag draped over his shoulders, delivering University Heralds along my block across the street. I thought he'd likely be back on my side shortly. And sure enough, he was. I went to the door and thanked him as he handed me a Herald. He had 100 papers to deliver and was doing a good job. I hope he keeps it up.

His brother is also delivering a route. Their names are Mark and Tommy Raden. But alas, kids like that are hard to find these days.

I ought to know, when I was still publishing the Outlook we had 300 of them and harder to get new ones every day.

THURSDAY: Lunch at Claire's Pantry again. A woman sat at a table next to mine. She is a teacher at a private school (K-12) in Lake City. I told her about how I had enjoyed telling my kids how I had to WALK to school in the olden days: "I didn't have a bus to take me there, like you do."

It wasn't until later I mentioned I had to walk FOUR BLOCKS to Interlake, across the street to Hamilton, and one block to Lincoln.

The teacher smiled and said her dad (I think) told his kids he had to walk to school, also, but added - "and it was all uphill, BOTH WAYS!"

Barbara was my waitress this day, and of all things, also presented me with a check totaling the dreaded $6.66. When I paid Alicia, the cashier/hostess, she acknowledged that 666 was her birthday.

Now, if you wonder why I was so concerned, I'd in the meantime done a little research about the Mark of the Beast and this is what I found: 666 talents was the weight of the gold that Solomon received yearly, about 25 tons. (How he got connected to the Beast, I don't know. Maybe some reader can so inform me.) Those who worshipped the Beast - a creature sporting 10 horns (each with a crown), seven heads, and spoke like a dragon - could expect no rest, day or night; might break out with ugly and painful sores; or be thrown alive into a fiery lake of burning sulfur.

I not only paid my check in a hurry, but resolved to stay away from Claire's soup and salad special! That is, unless eating with Dorothy.

At home that afternoon, I heard a loud rumbling sound outside and ran to the window thinking the Beast HAD COME TO GET ME! But it wasn't he - just a large Ryder rental truck, three guys on foot, plus a driver, in the middle of the street delivering those big, new, green recycling bins to every home on the block.

Dinner that night was at home. I played it safe, by dining on a peanut butter and honey sandwich, plus popcorn for after-dinner dessert.

FRIDAY: Lunch at Mom's at U Village (clam chowder) getting acquainted with Kathy Williams at the counter. She is associated with Planned Parenthood.

And Mom, Denise Breen, called my attention to a popular new item on her menu: Biscuits and Gravy, "with real Mom-made sausage gravy".

And, Thank Heavens, the week ended pleasantly: no more 666s, and best of all, I found a dime on Mom's floor.