November 25, 2009

           Millie’s situation is described later. If there is a paradise for old dogs, it is Florida. This photo evokes sympathy, but in fact, Millie has had the best of times. Her expression is totally the old “give me food” look of a Labrador. But as you will see, it conveys that she is also grey and somewhat feeble. Read later for more information, as it is early today.
           I dug out my old binder of Hippie tunes, including pearls like “Down on the Corner” which we never did play right. Same with “Margaritaville”, except I play it right because my backing track is Jimmy Buffet himself. There is no G chord coming out of the chorus, it is double measures of A (“But I know…”). I’ll see what’s planned for Xmas and New Years, both of which land on Fridays this year and I have nothing lined up.
           Chances are I could do a decent job of jamming through again although the fact remains I have never yet heard around a quarter of the tunes we played. As per habit, I datestamp such booklets and found markings from 2000 to 2008. The old truism goes that no matter how many times you form a two-piece group with The G, you never know how many people are going to be in it.
           It has been a blustery day since 4:00 AM. Steady, noisy rain. This got me up early with nothing to do, although that is never strictly true. Just the cat and I. Say, Tat, are you putting on a few pounds round the tush? She still prefers those dry pellets for lunch, which puts away the theory that they are scientifically designed to keep your pet healthy. Those crunchy-wunchie pelletoids, she gets the regulation one cup (8 oz) per day. And no more till she finishes what is there.
           Looking ahead for 2010, it should be another well-documented year, unless I get distracted by something big. Winning the Lotto comes to mind. The fact is, that year has long been labeled “It’s Over” in my other correspondence. For many reasons unspecified, that is the year tons of projects, some of them life-long, get dropped. I always wanted to build my own house somewhere. Never happened. Same with riding a motorcycle around Australia and spending another year in Iceland or Venezuela.
           Where some families set their sons up to be doctors in order to make money, my raising was such that, to become a doctor, I would have had to make the money first. And if I did that, it was proof I didn’t really need any help, so either way you lose. I’ll be putting getting rich on hold as well. In the end, the only person you can count on is yourself, but I never learned that until far too late.
           Until I was 27, I kept false hope that others would honor their promises. While I was successful in not becoming just another wage-slave, it was not what I set out to do. It is sad but true being smart or educated doesn’t pay well. But it sure beats being rich and bored and divorced and on cocaine! I have never yet met the typically happy man pictured in the movies. Yes, I made incredibly good money working at the phone company and I will never make that mistake again.
           Later, the predictable news about Millie has arrived. She has cancer. Millie has done more than most people, she’s been from Alaska to Key West and swum in many oceans and tasted my cooking. It don’t get any better.
           Things get better as the day progresses. “Batchin”, that is being a bachelor, is easier once you know how. For instance, now that I can prepare a five-course meal right here, it is once again fashionable to go out. There is no sense of “loss or lonesome” when you can do it yourself, not that I ever missed big Thanksgiving get-togethers. The point is, one is supposed to miss these things. Sure, Wallace and I had some plans for dinner today, but we’ve both been invited out twice over.
           I better understand the buffet meal now. Instead of poring over a stove, focus on making one big dish very well, then share it with others who did the same. This may be homespun wisdom to you, but like a lot of men, I never thought about it much. For instance, I made a huge tray of olives, including the tuna-stuffed because I could not find the almond-stuffed. Much superior to the pimento centers. Try the almond brand.
           The challenge was buying three times as much of each, then picking the very best ones to arrange for perfection, size and appearance. In fact, I would have done even better if not for that rainstorm. The Winn/Dixie aisles were packed, though I wonder if it is the shopping or the money that people had to leave until the last moment. All pitted olives and jumbo sizes were sold out by the time I arrived.