January 12, 2014

           It was a quiet memorial service, no speeches. I attended Mass again. In the big hall, with the great acoustics. For the benefit of anyone who has never been in a Catholic church, I should explain that this is not Roman Catholic, but Orthodox Catholic. There are ceremonies and rituals that I do not understand, but that I recognize are deep-rooted in tradition. The service is in English, and they have hymns, sermons, and a collection plate and let me tell you, the priest gave ‘em a good talking-to this morning about being a Christian.

           Alaine was busy hostessing so JZ and I found a corner, since he knows everybody by name where all I can do is grin and shake hands. Talk quickly turned from the memorial to the house in Riviera. I have definite reasons for rejecting the place, which include it being forty miles too far away, has only one bathroom, and the down payment is too much. On the other hand, it is semi-permanently rented out at $730 per month. Stick around for later and I’ll go over this in more detail.
           The church hall is something you should see. I know there are others, but this one seems more of a community hall. That is, there seems to be no requirement that the meetings have any religious connotation. This is the hall, if you think back, where we had the bingo in 2011. It is very well-maintained with plenty of space. The memorial today was held in the reception area near the front door. Shown here, it is a nice facility. And I like the openness of the atmosphere.
           Alaine and I were there early with the staff. Most all was ready by the time I arrived, say 8:30 AM. What? Well I always miss that confusing “Downtown” sign on I-95 and have to backtrack down the Rickenbacker road. It’s a nice drive but ten minutes out of the way on a good day. Here is a photo of me waiting on the coffee, not looking impatient or anything. That’s good, because this urn had tripped the breaker in the back and I could have been standing there kind of a long time.

           I didn’t have to hot-foot it back to band rehearsal, so I took the tourist route along the Atlantic. That’s a joke, since in Miami, there is practically no way to see the ocean. The waterfront property is completely foreign, drug, Mafia,or gerentologically owned. Or is that pwned? The place was snapped up by condo developers long before the slower-witted city councils figured out that their citizens might want to enjoy the view as well. By then, too late, the money had already been pocketed. But you can still smell the peanuts on their breath.
           North of Miami Beach is a stretch of millionaire properties called North Beach. Again, no place to park your car, but you should be okay finding mooring for the family yacht. Take your GPS, the roadways were also approved by the same city councils. And as you would in any third-world city, make sure your car has good axles and heavy-duty suspension.

           Speaking of vehicles, Miguelito came by with more bad news. The extra cranking to start the old motor has finally trashed my started and solenoid, so that’s another $115. Don’t worry, we have the money. Miguelito, with the same model of scooter, has no on-going problems. He has the same routine checks as I, but he doesn’t understand that he knows what to look for. Example, both times my unit over heated, the oil had been check within the previous 24 hours. I found the oil full, so it doesn’t matter that he knows it was low. I can’t check it while I’m driving.
           I say the parallel is my computers. Where others have to keep their units in repair or buy new ones, I’ve had the same unit for close to eight years, and I have an emergency computer over ten years old that I keep just in case. They last forever because I know what to watch for. This does not apply to the newest computers off the assembly lines. They are junk and the sellers know it. My newest peeve with Win 7? The cursor. You have to leave it in your way because moving it out of the way collapses the window you are trying to work on.
           Told ya the tourists are here. How do I know? We may have a booking. With the big band. At rehearsal today I found set lists, a sure sign that we’ve got a gig. I do not share in the management of this band, which I like. More details at they arrive but my guess it is a club date in the final negotiation stages. The appearance of a song list is another clash of management style. I use lists for practice, but never on stage. To me, it is silly to pretend to know in advance what kind of mood the crowd will be in. But it works well enough for this kind of band.
           What’s this? My readership is slipping? That makes sense, since there are no longer exciting daily adventures to compare with the motorcycle diagonal across the nation. But I telegraph to the world that there may soon be a complete revamp of this blog and its location. It is time to leave Google and find a decent company to work with. This blog is one of several items I tend to on the Internet, all of which were independently established to prevent any outsiders from tying them all together. I see now that Google has a methodical game plan to not only force all diverse elements from each user into a single Google account. As if we don’t know Google is using those accounts to monitor and identify people. There are eople who may not want that to happen. While my identity is not a secret, handing it to the disrespectful people at Google is not a good idea either.