May 13, 2018

Yesteryear
One year ago today: May 13, 2017, the disinterested passerby.
Five years ago today: May 13, 2013, my predilection for education.
Nine years ago today: May 13, 2009, remember alumina anemia?
Random years ago today: May 13, 2007, clomp clomp.

           Talk about rain. I got away around 9-ish, taking my time down 27 via Wachuala and Arcadia. The sad part is once again, the dash cam overrecorded a whole batch of excellent photos. So I’ll tell you about the trip and you can fill in with your imagination. It was blustery when I left, taking nearly two hours to get to the Olga Mall. I discovered that was closed on Sundays. I normally make this trip on weekdays, but my clinic is en mass going into a seminar in Chicago. Not New York as previously reported.

           I set thre cruise control at the ‘motorcycle’ setting of 55 mph and down the now-familiar side roads to Carnestown on the western edge of the Everglades. The weather was a constant problem by the time I got to Immokalee. This was not going to be a milk run. Alaine wanted to meet up to take a cargo of art supplies to the new house, but the rain lowered visibility to 60 yards. Any speed over 30 mph caused hydroplaning, so the last southern leg took over two hours.

           And it was dangerous going. It was now early afternoon and I was getting tired. Car travel lacks the excitement of motorcycling and it is frankly tiring by even three hours. As I turned east on the Tamiami, the rain became strong enough to slow the car. One set of pictures I regret losing was a bottle fly swarm I ran into just south of Alva. My windshield got smeared so badly I had to stop regularly and the entire bumper of my car was black with their bodies. I took eight pictures.
           Instead, here’s a shot of getting passed on the right side by a watermelon truck in the blinding rain. Gotta get those melons to town, even if it means risking your life and everybody else’s. The guy came up so fast I didn’t get a chance to pull over. Myself, I don’t care for watermelon unless it’s free. I find it bland, but I’m okay with watermelon juice. It’s bloggable, because c’mon folks, how often do you get passed by a watermelon truck?

Picture of the day.
Considered perfect handwriting.
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           But into the Cypress Park, it was too much and I pulled into one of the campgrounds to wait it out. I finally wound up sleeping for two hours. Sadly, the area had no cell coverage so I was unable to call ahead about the delay. And the blasting water had washed off all the insect bodies. As I slept, the dash cam once again stayed on and recorded over those one-of-a-kind photo. Too bad.

           By 4:00PM there was a letup, and I walked to the picnic area to view the skyline. There I met a blonde lady on holidays. She had a Polish accent, so if she is reading this, hello from Miami. We talked for a half hour and I could not advise her enough to not bother carrying on to the east coast. It may have been a decent tourist destination in the pre-Muriel days, but Miami is an expensive nothing-to-see these days.

           [Author’s note: the unpleasant incident of this event was another snark. A snark is one of those bubba types who can lift weights but doesn’t have the balls to talk to women. I saw him standing over in the far corner eyeing the blonde. He stood there until the moment he saw her approach me and start chatting. Instantly he’s over like a dirty shirt, Mr. Friendly.]

           I crawled into Miami before dark and drove directly to Snapper Creek. Alaine had left already, I was exhausted, and if I never said, other than the Olga Mall, there is not one decent spot to stop for coffee along the entire route. Too late to go out for coffee, we grabbed enough supplies for the week and I had to crash after supper. JZ went out, his latest girlfriend has cancer. The guy has such awful luck that way. I’ve known the guy almost twenty years and he is worse than me for falling for the wrong women.
           Quite frankly, I don’t even enjoy visting south Florida any more, but I like the money. We had months of details to catch up on, JZ will not touch electrical wiring. I thought he just had a dislike for it. No sir, it is a real aversison. I brought along photos and prints of the work done, you’ve already seen the most revealing of them here. The rest are technical, of interest to us only because of our previous plans to collaborate on flipping a fixer upper. The chancres of that are faded, particularly as house prices are gaining—but more due to inflation than any real value.

           More discouraging is the emergence of my ability to undertake the work myself. I’ve learned independently how to do most of what we’d planned. Not the entire job, but what we’ve planned. I’d repeatedly warned of this, that I would not cease the renovations, they would just continue at a slower pace. That’s the never-ending work you see me doing to this day. It had to be learned in stages by my own fumbling experience and I didn’t exactly do everything in the right order. The important evolvement was doing it myself. Even the plumbing part is soon to fall to this new system. I do 90% of the work and have the final 10% by a local tradesman to meet code—and even then only when required.

           Hence, today effectively ends and real chances of us forming a partnership in this regard. I do not form partnerships unless the other party can do things I absolutely cannot. You can, I think, see that the past 18 months of experience has seen to it. JZ understands that I need only minor laboring help now, and cannot afford to pay him like before. If any of this changes in the future, it will be a completely new and different project.
           And here’s a pose of the scooter with my $18 paint job. Don’t let this fool you. This machine is past its expiry date. I even forget if this photo is a repeat.

Last Laugh

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