It was a full day at the shoe shop despite the lack of customers. An acquaintance of Alfredo showed up saying she was mostly fed up living with old people. Yeah, well you night not have much choice around this town. We drove over here to let her look at the room and walked in just in time to catch Wallace peeling an egg. (He concocted a brilliant recovery, but it was actually fine that she saw right off we are real people.) She is apprehensive about living with “two single men”, however that is an emotional objection so she’s not going to take the room.I got less than a quarter of my expected cash on the callout tonight. It turns out AOL will not forward jpegs unless you are in RTF, rich text format. It has always been nice of AOL to make this so clear that I don’t have to spend more than an hour going through their FAQ. I solved the problem quickly enough that I got no tip. AOL has a toggle setting for plain text right where you would not look for it. Will I be happy or sad when these callouts finally dwindle to nothing as the contacts expire?
It says here that this recession would “probably” have had a different outcome if there had been a “greater” gender balance in decision-making. Or so says a professor of psychology at Northwestern University. Give you one guess what gender she is, oops. In the last 18 months, almost 6 million American jobs have disappeared. What was the gender balance on that one?
Eggplant. We all know what it is, but have we cooked one. Not me, not Wallace, not Millie. I found a recipe for casserole and tomorrow I shall go out and hunt down an eggplant. It seems to me Judy (Mintie) fed me one once but I don’t recall being all that impressed. There were quite a few recipes for eggplant, which I had to read and notice most of them call for added cheese. Can anyone tell me why a purple vegetable got a name like that?
Meanwhile, we stick with known ingredients, like my horseradish mashed potatoes that will also clear your sinuses and forget your socks. Now Carlos asked us to keep checking his mailbox after he left, which we did. He was waiting for an important letter. It arrived and I called. The cell number he left is disconnected. Folks, nobody is saying you have to bust your chops and become a millionaire, but there are certain things you cannot fall behind on or you never catch up.
Author's note 2015-06-15: Carlos showed back up (almost) exactly ten years later. I ran into his old girlfriend, Hayley. She's now the aging barmaid, still a babe, but time is running out.
A quick conference with Eddie Monroe to modify songs on our list shows we have similar tastes in music. The best gigs I have are the times I get the dance floor packed, even if it just all the women, and yes I do often get that to happen. Eddie doesn’t know any Eric Clapton except for that monotonous “Wonderful Tonight”. Both of us like “The Breeze” but neither of us can play the lead break. My policy is to horse trade, when somebody wants to learn one of their songs, they have to learn one of mine. This method won’t work when your guitarist is an egotistical pimple who considers everyone else his underlings. But it bears fruit when you are dealing with reasonable people. That’s fruit, not eggplant.
Really, all we have to do is memorize the stops and starts but I’m becoming concerned that our work schedules don’t mesh during the week. He has to work late on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, prime practice time. Thursdays never work for me, as I’m either already tuckered out from the week (I’ve played music around an hour day ever since I was ten years old), or going to play the following day. I’m afraid I might stop if it ever became work.
Now for a unique subject. Bicycle underwear. I have a matching set of boxers that did not last. They develop rips and holes, not my favorite underwear event. Sure enough, when several pair were destroyed in the same fashion, I was able to sleuth together that the material was not bicycle-proof. If you think about it, but not too deeply nor often, modern underwear is just not up to the mild constant abrasion between cheek and seat. I seem to get about 800 miles on a pair of boxers. It is surely a sign of our crumbling national infrastructure.
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