January 14, 2018

Yesteryear
One year ago today: January 14, 2017, Florida’s most famous sawhorses
Five years ago today: January 14, 2013, gimp fashions.
Nine years ago today: January 14, 2009, no thinking out loud.
Random years ago today: January 14, 2007, perfection, and four first names.

           This terrible picture makes the grade over something I’ve never seen before. This is the trees above my house at extreme telephoto range. There are seven birds at least in this picture. The surprise is this morning there were dozens of them all through my trees. I’m referring to the bird that most people call a robin, or the similar bird which I believe is a ruby-breasted thrush. I’ve never seen these birds except in solitary pairs. This did not happen last year, I would certainly have noticed such big flocks, my guess is 40 or 50 birds arriving at once. They don’t seem to chirp or make any noises, but my trees are packed with them.

           Both sexes are probably present though only the brightly colored birds are really visible from down here on the ground. I have no resource books, just my guide charts that merely state it is a common city visitor. This is not the only unusual event today. I slept through it but there must have been a near hurricane windstorm through here in the past twelve hours. It blew open the doors of my storage shed and scattered branches everywhere.

           By mid-morning I’ve got the sniffles, which was my cue to go for a Sunday drive. And where better than those little towns southeast of Tampa, most of which consist of an intersection. Don’t be thinking it’s really rural, you see, every square inch is owned by somebody and the entire place is mainly small acreages. I never could figure out people who buy five acres and cut down every last tree. Their house then sits in the middle of a big wind-swept field. I let the car find its own way through what looked like huge fields of vegetables like radishes or it could have been strawberries.

           This road is a single lane farm trail along a river. Which river? I’ll look up next day. I was at the thrift with the ladies, but it was busy so I could not get any quality time with the owner. She’s one of the most devastated by divorce women I’ve ever met, she can’t really hide it very well. She cheers up when I’m around though this should not be considered out of context. I would never take advantage of such a situation. But sure, maybe I’ll take her out to dinner some time. Trust me, she needs a break from it all.

           Soon I was wishing I’d either get sick or get better. This won’t be my day. I’ve got half a sore throat, half a headache, and half a sneezing spell. I wanted to drive a few hours for fun. Yes, I moan about my gas bill but it is still an economical way for me to take it easy. Entertainment in Florida consists of eating and drinking. Zero cultural or intellectual pursuits, mind you, if I had not felt so clammy and stuffed up, I considered touring that science museum in Tampa. It’s worth a look but most such places are detuned to attract families with small children and things can get sappy.

Picture of the day.
11,000 calories.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           Something unusual but impressive [to me] happened last evening. Knowing in advance Agt. R was on duty, I figured why not head over there. It was the usual-usual, but this lady I’ve seen before blocked my way as I returned from the can. At first it seemed an accident, then she started to dance, and it was a systematic dance. Not the bump and grind. This totally put me on the spot with half the town watching. Instinct cut in and I began to match her dancing with a modified foxtrot. It matched perfectly. We were two feet away from touching, yet this stranger had the floor to ourselves. It happened just like that.

           I don’t mean we did the foxtrot, I kind of mixed my moves to match her moves. I was off balance over meeting her. To the local crowd it was fixating. There can be no doubt [to the room] it was spontaneous since she snagged me as I walked past. We danced around four minutes, which for any non-dancers out there, is a long dance. After just a minute it becomes a challenge not to repeat any steps so as to avoid that rehearsed look—and still keep the audience focused on her. Remember guys, she’s the picture and you’re the frame.

           [Author’s note: to give you an idea what she looked like, it took just a few minutes on-line to a likeness. This is not what she looked like today, but it’s a close representation of what she must have looked like back in the day.]

           Nothing further happened. As the song was ending, she stopped and walked away, I did the same. We didn’t speak before or after, which might seem impersonal to some. A lot of guys would regard such a dance as a preliminary, but that’s not me. She wanted a dance and she got a dance. Such women are audacious enough to help themselves to what they want. No need to be the Don Juan. I very rarely ask women for anything and that’s a lesson a lot of guys could stand to learn.
           Is there a downside to dancing? Well, yes. After people see it, they will keep telling you what a good dancer you are until it becomes annoying. That’s why I can admire pretty women who remain so gracious about it. They have to or it would drive them around the bend. This admiration doesn’t extend to the ones who take a few hours to get pretty.

ADDENDUM
           The birds are simply too high up to positively ID, but I believe this is the bird. They perch in the branches but are very restless, never staying put. Constantly hopping from branch to branch or flying out a few feet and settling back. I’m going to go with the ancient Chinese philosophy about trying to count birds on the wing and guess the total around the house to be nearly 150. They fill the front, side, and back yard branches. They arrive and leave in mid-sized flocks of 40-ish.

           While I’m not as much into Karaoke any more, I pay attention to which songs keep the crowd spun around. New country doesn’t make the grade, so it’s a chore to find a classic that isn’t over-played. Ah, but we have an advantage. Very few of the classics have been played on the bass. We got a candidate tonight. I haven’t tackled it yet, so why don’t you give it a listen? And pay attention to the lead breaks, noticing how they are exceeding simple patterns through a fuzz box.
           The song is that 1970(?) version of “Move it On Over”. Now listen to it again imaging a straightforward but lively guitar strum with those lead notes on the bass. Specially those notes in the second half of the lead break. There’s no promise this tune will make the grade until I try. Yep, that’s usually how I find my material and now you know too much.


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