November 26, 2017

Yesteryear
One year ago today: November 26, 2016, Castro dies, again.
Five years ago today: November 26, 2012, dream responsibly.
Nine years ago today: November 26, 2008, look, Edgeworth.
Random years ago today: November 26, 2013, where’s George?

           Another chilly night, I stayed home, but I got myself a talking to last night. I mentioned the Thanksgiving dinner, and while up at the lumber yard I bumped into a lady that was not invited. I was heading for coffee, so I invited her and she indirectly tore a strip off guys like me. She was convinced she was not invited because she is husband-hunting and she’s right about that. Her angle was that she knew I would be the only really single guy there, and that she’s not my type. She’s right about that, too. But she’s honest, so I listened to a twenty-minute invective.

           She is well-dressed and sings at Karaoke, I supposed she’s had some college and obviously gets around on her own. But what can I say, her manner is far too inward-focused. That doesn’t appeal to guys like me. So let me say a few words about gals like her. It is better to lose 20 pounds than buy fashions. And ditch the Broadway musicals at Karaoke, they are as boring as guitar solos. Anyway, I don’t consider anything with the suffix “-ology” to be a real college course. And when you are 40, you should have your own transportation one way or the other. Any one of those things done wrong makes you not my type. Plus, she is just not that pretty. Yes, it’s important. Ignore that factor at your own peril.

           I’ll tell you who she [the coffee lady] reminds me of. Dr. Winnifred Cutler. Who? That’s the lady in the pheromone ads from the back of men’s magazines. For $98.50, you add this to your aftershave to turn up women’s “rheostat”. I always thought it works with some men because when they wear it, they have to do something they are as chicken at doing as my brothers. They have to go over and get close enough to the women to talk. This triggers women to think it is their own pheromones going to town. See how that works? Neat trick there, Winnie.
           So back to the lady over coffee. I asked her what she meant by “guys like” me. I got one of those love-hate answers. She loves the way I can read a textbook a crowded bar, but hates the way it signals I’m not interested in any of the women present. She said the same kind of thing about the way I talk, mentioning I’m selective as hell. I don’t engage women in small talk, that’s for sure. Women start conversations with me probably eight times more than the other way around. Just never the women I want, but that could change instantly if I could just find the right brand of after-shave. Say, would you have $98.50 you could lend me? I’ll trade you for some ham.

           I listened to her, but cannot take much of it to heart. She’s describing men as if they never learn a thing or two about women in return. I’m not wasting my time on women who don’t show a positive interest back in me right away. Y’know, the chemistry thing. I don’t pay attention to women who are constantly on the telephone. It’s a bizarre notion that women are going to attract a good man by using the lures that worked back in high school. Unless, of course, they still happen to look like cheerleaders.
           As for me being too picky or stuck up, that’s the old sour grapes conclusion. She’s saying there are no good men “left”. Myself, I meet my type of women all over the place—always too young or too married. Don’t read too much into it, we only talked for a few moments about that. But if she had any interest in any other subject on the face of this Earth, she never mentioned it at all. Now you know why I prefer to work the crossword.

Picture of the day.
Irish fish market.
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           During my breaks, I’m watching the DVD “Queens Logic”. A totally unrealistic portrayal of New York life. From what I read of the city, life there is a constant struggle to survive. Unless you are lucky, street level in that town is gangs, hookers, pushers, shysters, crooked cops, and strong-arm debt collectors. I spoke too quickly about fixing that leak, but then, the original leak is very fixed. The piping itself is on its last legs and now there is a new leak where the iron joins the plastic. Somebody really has to get under there. For now, I just turn on the hot water as needed. I may buy the new hot water tank ahead of schedule and do away with the older stuff.

           Here’s a bowlful of plumbing joints from the club. All nice brand new 1/2” fittings. We’ll see where this goes, since I’ll be talking to JZ soon about the plumbing. I still want three new appliances. The dishwasher, the garburetor, and the washer. I would never make a profit at the speed I work these pipes, but it doesn’t cost me a fortune either to do it myself. Hey, it was either a picture of the CPVC fittings or another picture of the ham, so quit griping.

           I think I’ll have some vegetarian soup with ham chunks and a sandwich. A ham sandwich. I got to thinking, they call them hamburgers, so why isn’t there ham in the grindings? I think I’ll make some real hamburgers using real ham. You are welcome to join in. Ground ham, it’s the latest thing around here. I’ve sketched out the plumbing and actually, the only tricky parts are the joints. What I have in mind is to run in the long pieces and then ponder each step. It’s not as intricate as the simplest robotic circuits, not at all. I’ve got a few Black & Decker how-to books I’ll dig out and start myself to thinking.
           In terms of the work, it goes like this. I was one of those guys who followed instruction number one, which is to read the whole test first. Did I ever tell you my marks were regularly 15% above the rest of the class. Dammit, read the test first. So now I read the entire project how to build a deck. The porch goes above the deck, but you have to have a good deck. You take one step at a time, doe the work—then go back and read the instructions again. Amazing, how well this procedure makes up for lack of experience.

           Meanwhile, back at the ranch John Wayne is still finding good-looking farmer’s daughters to rescue, just everywhere. The titles, like [Internet] click-bait, have no bearing on the contents. “The Lawless Frontier”. “The Dawn Rider”. And no stunt men. The fights are embarrassingly phony. Still John Wayne does a far better job of it than Roy Rodgers, who seems to try to be everything to everybody. The footage contains errors that these days would have a crowd howling with laughter. The one [scene] where Wayne’s boot gets caught in the railing and he tries to improvise. Ha! John Wayne improvise?

ADDENDUM
           Strange. Until I bought the Taurus, I never thought about cars much. I figured it was fairly unique, a twenty-something vehicle in spotless condition. Now I find there not one, but two, identical cars in the same block. Same year, make, model, and color. One parks by the church, the other is around the corner. Identical right down to the hub caps. Isn’t that something?

           I cancelled my plans for the Sunday jam and stayed home to finish the camel caravan book. Very well-written and researched, but toward the end you get more on himself than the desert. He sure spent a lot of money uncovering his inner self, layer after layer after layer, and so on. Out there in the middle of the desert with Muslims in a camel train, he congratulates himself at least four times on his ability to keep his mouth shut about being Jewish. Hey, MB, I got news for you. A lot of Miami women manage to do the same thing pretty much every day.

           Meanwhile, John Wayne continues to rescue maidens, kids, and the wrongly accused as I continue watching his movies for very clear ideas of how not to build a porch on a cabin. Ah, so I’m really doing research, am I? Not entirely, you see, I actually like these corny old movies. But it’s leaving me the impression that out west there is a clapboard cabin with a porch at every bend in the river. And it just ain’t so. Why look, there’s one now.
           Wow, did you see that? John Wayne just stood on his saddle and jumped over a cliff into the river just above the waterfall, or if they don’t have any of those ‘Neath the Arizona Skies, at least into a cataract. A fearsome one, for sure. All this while still wearing his cowboy boots, er, to boot. Come back tomorrow, Clyde. I gotta watch this.


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