July 29, 2018

Yesteryear
One year ago today: July 29, 2017, Your pacemaker knows.
Five years ago today: July 29, 2013, the Pope, that's who.
Nine years ago today: July 29, 2009, Tag . . . you're a documentarian!
Random years ago today: July 29 2004, NASA, still driving the ditches.

           How are we this morning? Good, there’s chores to do around the house and yard. I guessed wrong on the coffee table surface, the one I want to make into a chalkboard. Don’t panic, the table was free and this is an improvement. You better go feed the cardinals, since they are tame enough to make a real racket if you ignore them. Here’s a photo of the table top progress and I’ve made some kind of mistake. The paper-like material absorbs paint, so I covered with the best known primer, the Kilz drywall brand. It will adhere to anything, but it also caused the table to raise burrs, like it was expensive wood or something. Since nothing else is going on this fine day, here’s the description. No, after saying burrs, I was not going to say nitty-gritty. You’re sharp today, though.

           While waiting for the coating to dry, I ran through that Yoakum tune, “All You Ever Do”. Both chords. The attraction is the concertina riffs. That’s that Cajun accordion thingee, and with my piano background, I like the patterns. My challenge was to see if I could fake those riffs on the bass. They are all double notes, so the trick is (I normally charge money for this info) to listen to it closely. Normally the melody line is the upper note, but not always often enough to solo it. This is where you get back to how I can solo on the bass. You play the note they think they hear. After a while, say 30 years, you get good at that.

           Back to the paint. Here’s the table sanded, then undercoated. Man, I know things are slow when paint drying makes top story, but that is why I’m driving to band practice this afternoon. I know I gotta do something about the terrible state of my socializing. Without a band, I have no social life. Well, I do, but it doesn’t involve doing the things I like to do most.

           Besides, trust me, you’d rather hear about the paint than if I had brought Granny Gail home and, well, you know. The top photo shows the sanded table top, but notice how some of the previous coating had soaked into the substrate. I thought nothing of it, and applied the undercoat shown in the bottom panel. It would not dry in the same spots that had the blotches. And what did dry crackled, like old paint already. Close examination reveals nothing. So I left it overnight. This morning I hand-brushed another layer of primer with opposing brush strokes. That’s what we are waiting on now, but the drying pattern is still irregular. What are we dealing with here? Keep checking back. Who’s smarter, me or that table?

           Here’s something I’ll bet you didn’t know. Those little folders the waiter puts you bill inside are called “check presentation wallets” and they are not cheap. More like twenty bucks apiece, wholesale. So now you know, if not leaving a tip is not good enough for the lousy service, here’s an opportunity for retaliation. Like when menus go missing, they come out of his pocket. You never heard that here.

Picture of the day.
Brit photography mag.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           Aha! This just in. Nothing official but it looks like there was a big round-up of hotdog carts a few years ago. And it further looks like that is when all the current rules came into effect. I know some of you may be thinking, if 7,000 hotdog carts got slammed at once, there would have been something in the news. Yes, except this is Florida. You would only hear news like that if it was white people getting in trouble. Anybody from this area can tell you they remember when there was a bikini-clad Latina selling something on every corner. It’s only when I mention it that the crook one eyebrow and say, you know, they did notice they all evaporated at once.

           Next question, if they were all put out of business at once, why was not the market flooded with used carts? I can think of one reason. They were seized by the authorities, that’s why. I mean, I don’t know, but I’ve already speculated none of them were paying much by way of taxes. If so, in about two months we are going to be very glad I insisted on doing everything by the book.

           Having said that, I’ve reached another conclusion. The hotdog business is a scam at the setup level. The chain is set up to take advantage of new people entering the business, if only because there is no money in doing it any other way. Think of the parallels with Amway.

                      a) claims of a billion dollar industry, get you share
                      b) ease of market entry, just a few dollars
                      c) then the costs pile up and no customers
                      d) the only people making money are the ones selling you the stock.

           There are a host of other similarities, but we’ve avoided a lot of the pitfalls by following my conservative guidelines. No big shiny aluminum cart to start, I insisted on finding the 14 locations, and my steady hand is apparent at every stage. There have been huge costs, but no surprises. We have never run short of money despite all kinds of extra fees and setbacks. We will be in complete compliance from day one. There is, in my opinion, definitely something out there that is halting the shifty operators from leaping right back into the business. And I’ll bet it has to do with playing by the book. I’ve said it before, it costs a lot of money to obey the law.

           The picture shows the next step on the chalk table. Some of you may recall this distinctive green paint from five years ago. Yes, it will last that long if stored properly. Hint: exhale into the can before replacing the lid. Yes, it is the green exterior paint from the original cPod. I know a good paint when I find one, which is another thing I learned the hard way. This color is beginning to appear on the hotdog cart in the spots that need it. This paint was guaranteed to cover in one coat, and parts of the cPod, now our supply trailer, have up to six coats. And it is in perfect shape despite being outdoors this whole time. In the best of conditions, we know this latex paint requires a full 18 hours to dry. So check back mañana.
           Yep, the lack of excitement in this town brings us another top story concerning my wristwatch. I broke the band and it was cheaper to buy a new watch two days ago. It was set an hour early and I never noticed until this morning. That means I’ve been late getting everywhere the past while. And in case that is what you are thinking, yes, the library still did shut early on Friday. I was using the clock on my cell phone.

           In my spare time (ha-ha what’s that?) I’ve been noodling with some bass passages that would be particularly tricky to play by someone using that freaky-looking millennial right hand finger pluck style. I first used it in Haggart’s “Momma Tried”, where the hurdle was to break a habit and play a higher note on a lower string. Try it. Not easy, huh? Expanding on that, I found I could pick some passages where a sissy-picker’s brain would short-circuit. I got the idea watching the difficulty Twood had learning to up-pick.
           How about another reminder of why guitar types don’t get top billing on my stage? I’ve said I have complete command of the fretboard, but don’t think this is bragging. No, I consider it one of your basic steps, or get off the stage. I still have to watch my left hand, though, and this has been interpreted wrongly as well. It is not because I can’t play otherwise, it is because my fingers will revert by my training to the nice evenly spaced piano keyboard. Having said all that, I’ll tell about my latest stage-grabber. The average bass fretboard ends on a high G note, which is just shy of the A note I would use in a lot of tunes. So here’s what happened, and this is also an example of why there is no replacement for stage time.

           Often when playing in A, I’ll get up to the high G and press the note but not play it. I play the lower string, as I just explained. But a few times I’ve accidentally sounded the G, which is a “wrong note” in this situation. Well, what happened often enough is I had some of the audience watching me climb the fretboard before I hit that note. I recovered quickly by pointing to the phantom spot where the note would be and saying, “I ran out,” or, “Cheap Chinese fretboards”, or (if a lady is one of the astounded), “My eyes are up here.”
           And that, son, is how a wrong note became an integral part of my act.

ADDENDUM
           The events of 2018 have thrown many of my conventions off, for example the way I used to get out of town once a month. Living here is like permanently being out of town. I even have the new cPod pamcamper now and haven’t used it once, mainly thanks to the hotdog cart. I’ve been advised to refer to the wagon as “the new business” but that never caught on over here. It won’t always be new.

Last Laugh

++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Return Home
++++++++++++++++++++++++++