One year ago today: January 23, 2015, they were all fakes.
Five years ago today: January 23, 2011, insipidly stupid greedy people.
Nine years ago today: January 23, 2007, why no fallout shelters?
Random years ago today: January 23, 2014, 100,000 types of glass.
MORNING
Woo-hoo! Look what I scored at the flea market. In perfect condition, a variable speed electric drill for $7. I also picked up a belt sander, thinking some day I might need one. Another $12. This is some of the first commercial grade equipment I own. My drill press, band saw, etc.? That is all hobby caliber at best. But I’ve never had a tool bust on me, unlike some people I know. If you are nice and stick around, I might treat you to a picture of the sander, and 3x21”. So you can’t say I’m not nice to you.
Good, because nobody cares about that crap, I wish it would go away by itself. The real deal is we are planning another run to the interior. Soon. You see, I kept a log of our journeys and there was more than once we passed through a town without really seeing the place. I’m more used to that on the Interstates, where the business center gravitated out to the overpass. But we weren’t on the Interstates.
There were several such towns, so I will call them representatively by the term “Mulberry”. Ah, such a sweet name for a little town. This was where we stopped for pie and coffee, then drove on since from where we stood, we could see all four roads in and out of town. But the satellite photos reveal a town of 3,000 people. That’s almost seven times larger than where I grew up. And we missed it?
“What year did Jesus think it was?” – George Carlin
As for those perfectly aligned rail lines mentioned last day, I waiting a bit to snap this photo. Yes, the ties have settled a little so you can no longer sight a rifle on them. But still, I find the accuracy of the placement remarkable. From what I understand, the government is subsidizing the doubling of this rail line to provide an alternative to Amtrak. There is something fishy or other going on there.
He is also gung-ho to get out of the city, which I fully understand. But I am the senior partner and I’m the one that’s putting on the brakes. I’ve concluded he is going to have to find out about small town living the hard way because, like most men, he does not trust the judgment of others when it comes to women. One of the reasons we chum so well after 15 years is because we never argue over women. He likes the opposite of what I do.
AFTERNOON
Face it, JZ doesn’t know the protocol. However, nothing he is likely to mess up would deter me from a small town--if it was close enough to a bigger city. The amount of planning for this move is well over a hundred hours. I’ve said how I would have to again operate a car, but I’ve not said that means I would leave the scooter parked at Fred’s. That way, on the twice a year I have to come back here, I have transportation whether I make the trip by plane, car, or train. All of which are options. But JZ will make the trip more often, I think, once he learns the basics. Right now, he does not even know what is important not to do.
A prime example of what I mean is when I bring women over to the table. He cannot break the ice on his own. Like most men, he will almost straight away start joking about sex, or at least broaching the subject. Me, I never joke about sex or even mention it around women. (Because I know I don’t have to.) Anyway, this is a matter of some concern to me as JZ does not appear to understand you cannot behave anonymously in a town even as small as 20,000. Look what happened when we stopped for coffee in Bartow.
What? I didn’t tell you about that? Whereas I shut up and listen a lot, JZ immediately told the waitress we were bachelors in town looking at real estate. Well, Jesus, JZ, why not tell them we have the cash in the bank, too? The gossip switchboard lit up for a twenty mile radius. Oh, JZ says, look how nice they are, the lady who owns the coffee shop went across the street and brought us all these real estate magazines. Er, JZ, she don’t give a damn about no stinkin’ real estate.
Anyway, a week later around Xmas when he’s had time to think things through he sort of admits, yeah, she was “kind of acting funny”. And the place did start to fill up with age-appropriate women before we left. Yeah, well JZ, you can forget about ever going back there and putting the squeeze on any of those broads. They’ve already decided who’s your Mrs. Right without further input from you.
Me? They have no idea. Nothing to go on.
NIGHT
You know this PVC plumbing pipe? It seems to be as strong a mild steel for holding in pressure. I was tinkering for the early evening and even contacted a guitar player passing through town. See if he’d like to record some rhythm tracks on the Tascam before he heads back north in six weeks. He advertised to play in a band, but plainly he knows nothing of the local guitar Mafia. They do not exactly cotton to strangers appearing and scooping the gravy. (Is that the proper use of “cotton”. I’m too lazy to look it up, as it is definitely one of those searches where you’ll get two tons of garbage back.)
What this town needed today was an atmosphere heater. It dropped down to 44ֽ°F by late evening. There is the occasional low below that, but that’s an overnight, not a sustained snap like now. Expect to hear of some fatalities in the morning. Myself, I have room heaters, hot tea, hot chocolate, electric blankets, and propane backup. Most people do not.
Don’t get all teary-eyed about it. The fact is, there is always plenty of warning about hurricanes and bad weather, to the extent that those who ignore the warnings do so because they have other priorities. Priorities that seem unimaginable to sane people. Myself, I lived in unheated shacks when it was 35°F below for weeks at a time. So don’t lecture me.
Last Laugh
Do that again . . .
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