One year ago today: July 10, 2017, FedEx tracking loses track.
Five years ago today: July 10, 2013, his password was too long.
Nine years ago today: July 10, 2009, if I can follow it . . .
Random years ago today: July 10, 2007, Allen, what a looser.
This morning we drove to Clearwater, Florida. And at that place, I saw my pal get his house saved from the foreclosure mill. Those who’ve been regulars here know the details; I’ll give you a quick recap. Early December last year I applied on his behalf to a single postcard received among many, which changed quickly to an offer to help by mid-January. Then a series of return inquiries led to a fund called Florida’s Hardest Hit, you can look it up. There was an obscure provision for self-employed homeowners, and this morning he put ink to paper. I have never before seen anything too good to be true that worked out, but unless the sky falls, this time it is true.
So, we arrive and hour early. We were told the documentation was extensive, but as you recall from two days ago, I requested and advance copy. I went over it four times word for word, and it is the real McCoy. A legitimate source of mortgage bail money, with a few conditions that I had already put in place for my client last August, long before we’d heard of the fund. Buddy, you want to save your house, you must do as I say, unquestioningly. He did, and now he has a crack at owning a house three times the size of mine within a few years—and he’s already got the first 18 months payments in the bank.
Impressed that he was early and showed up with his ‘bookkeeper’, they ushered us into the office at 9:00AM. And let me tell you, the lady was a total babe. Total. Like a movie actress, except for real. Not my type, but Agt. R was obliterated. And I can’t blame him. She emotionally devastated the poor man, he would have signed anything just to keep talking to her. My presence kept him on an even keel, but that’s all he talked about until I dropped him off four hours later back at his now-reinstated house. Let me think who I would compare her to. Nothing comes to mind.
How about a description instead? Okay, a perfect five-foot-four, long brown hair, brown eyes (light skinned Latino, my guess in Puerto Rican), no need for much makeup, not an ounce of baby fat, and wearing a dress that showed it off. That dress was casual, but it was not off the rack. It had a zig-zag stripe that was expertly stitched to flatter her exact somatotype. The flawless type of garment an expert seamstress would make for herself. And it melted my hotdog cart manager into a helpless blob. I had spoken with her by phone twice before and had already detected she must have been good-looking enough to have that tone of self-confidence only found in perfectly well-adjusted beauties like my ex-wife. But you’d have though Agt. R found manna from Heaven.
I warned him something like that is not going around unspoken for. I’m the type that would just ask her if she’s seeing anybody, but in this instance, I know better. On the way back, I talked him into stopping at the ReStore in the west end, it is better for heavy materials, like flooring. And what do I find? A Radio Shack 20 amp PA mixer in new condition. That’s the picture above. Notice, it can be plugged into a 12V power supply. So guess where that is going.
Portland, Oregon.
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Now having mentioned the hotdog cart, here’s the report on that. After reflecting on the situation and allowing that Agt. R is divorced, I started two companies. Ownership and operations are kept legally separate. If I didn’t say, I opted to have a professional outfit do the health department paperwork, and paid a pretty penny. I’ve arranged for a commissary and all the sub-conditions that result whenever bureaucrats get I involved. And I remain convinced that the vast majority of hotdog vendors get through this by trial and error. Furthermore, once that initial round of crappulence is done, I doubt many of them really follow the rules. Opening day is shunted ahead to mid-August due to this paperwork. And make no mistake, it is work.
JZ called, his brothers talked him into another cruise. He could not recall the name of the ship, but it is that big one with 17 stories. It was in the news recently. He’ll be back by August 2, that time-line works well enough for my appointments. Twood called, rehearsal is back on for Wednesday, so we are on schedule. And here is another shot of the ‘medicine chest’ showing the hardware. How do you like those fake dovetails? This case is meant only for storage, it is not rugged at all.
And reported only because it happened, I came down with a severe rash on my neck under the right ear. No explanation, no welts, no bite marks. Just a fiery no-joke something-is-wrong rash, which I don’t get. Char, that’s the nickname for the lady who took my four-wheeling last weekend, made up a cold compress. Even so, it took an hour on ice before I could button my shirt again. I was in the car all day, nowhere near any poison ivy or the like. And micro-inspection later showed nothing except that it was topical. And not related to Clearwater in any way.
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