December 25, 2014

MORNING
           JZ and I were at the Bagel Emporium by 9:00AM for one of the more expensive breakfasts in the already pricey Gables. It’s a shop in South Miami that has been there 32 years. I know, because I chat up every good-looking lady I meet and there were two present. One of them had been going there that long. Note, the link is outdated, the “Hungry Man” breakfast set us back $8.99 plus tip. The highly-rated fare is good, but short of fantastic.

           But it was a cheery start to a day like every day should be when one is financially retired. A great breakfast, an hour motorcycle ride, an easy chair, a few good books, and lots of projects and tools to tinker with to one’s heart’s content. If only the world would let you alone long enough to stay that way. I took 42nd Avenue home, a route that goes through the best and worst parts of town.
           I am not a bagel person and that is a food that is not good for you. Their ketchup, which I also don’t touch, contains corn syrup, which every knowledgeable source now warns against consuming. Also, the staff are career waitresses, so despite the location near the University, don’t expect much of a view.

           To jog your memory, there are no, repeat no, decent roads that run completely through the inhabited parts of the Florida east coast, not even the freeways. You must turn off, navigate, or jog your journey to get across town in any direction. Even I-95 peters out just south of downtown Miami where there remains another 25 miles of city to go. None of the east-west roads go from the Everglades to the Atlantic, all stop somewhere in between.

           Here is JZ next to the Mazda, the truck is now 15 years old and has 300,000+ miles on it. He will not part with it despite having the cash price of a new unit sitting in his bank account. It looks okay from here, but the tail lights have gone dim, the transmission skips, the box lid doesn’t fit properly any more, and it shimmies sometimes at highway speeds.
           I’ve been trying to talk him into junking it so long I don’t remember now. At least five years anyway. That’s the truck we’ve taken to Naples and Ft. Meyer’s and a hundred other excursions including the jungle. This time, I gave him a stern talking to about how the next vehicle will be his last, so get something super-comfortable and we’ll make an inaugural trip to the (Florida) west coast to go chasing women.

NOON
           By noon, I get back home all fed and rested up. What do I do? Plunk down in the chair and read a few chapters of anything handy. And I built several alternatives to the variable capacitor. Here is a photo of a variable capacitor, in this instance a two-gang model. You don’t find these as often as you used to and wish I could find a supply. There are a number causes for their disappearance and, of course, I’ll supply the explanation as best I can. First, they are a component of AM radios in early designs.

           As shown, they are a very difficult manufacture, particularly for an amateur like myself. In AM radio, they are teamed up with a loading coil to single out the frequency of the desired carrier wave. They are bulky and these days it is easier to vary the coil than the capacitor. They could technically be used in timing circuits, but the range is so small the engineers opt for a variable resistance.
           Either way, I do not own any variable capacitors and have not seen one in many years. FM radio works on a different principle and does not need these. The key obstacle is to find metal that is thin enough to mesh like this but rigid enough to hold a shape. Aluminum can be a real challenge on that score.

NIGHT
           My e-mail reports a generally great Xmas all around, my west coast (Pacific) people all found situations. There are very few married people in my entire circle of immediate friends, though I know many I visit with. Naturally, JZ and I had the big conversation about why everybody but us has an elegant lady to show up with. That’s easy, because he doesn’t play guitar. Ha-ha, just joking.
           But I’m not joking totally. I’ve tried other methods of meeting women, such as chatting them up at the pub. I don’t like it when other men do such things and found I don’t like it when I myself talk like that. In fact, that dating ritual is disgusting. But I do agree, [most] women won’t listen to you unless you lie, because that she can deal with. Hearing lies is something she can identify with and manipulate to her advantage. I dated office women, nurses, waitresses, hairdressers, and models. You invest a lot of words, so socially, you "get what you pay for". The next morning, I just don’t that much in common with a child care worker or a secretary.

ADDENDUM
           That (chasing women) all changes when it comes to music. Even my worst enemies could tell you that is one easy way to meet women, but the women have to be caught young and trained. Music is a field where, like stewardesses, if she lasts much past 28, she’s seen it all or at least thinks so. You will be judged by the same yardstick as every bozo guitar player that’s fed her a line since day one. But when you do meet a winner, what a prize. My last one lasted eleven years. We didn’t break up, she moved on.
           If you want a tough job, sit down with JZ and explain to him that he should be happy already. If he had gotten married, there is no guarantee he would not be exactly where he is but with the burden of alimony or support payments. In fact, he should feel lucky he is unencumbered. It is beyond all odds that guys like us are not hung out to dry by some lady judge at the family court.
           Um, about the other guys I know who are single, the circle of friends I mentioned earlier? As a rule, they do not go out chasing women on anything like the scale that JZ and I do. I alone probably go out looking for skirt more than all the single guys I know. And these are not slouches, they are well-to-do or business owners, scientists, accountants, real estate developers. It’s not that they’ve given up, but they’ve learned what does not work.
           And, I point out, not one of them is a musician. There’s a gap. I am on stage, they are in the audience. It’s just the way the game finally played out.

Last laugh:
You've heard of "organ donor"?