One year ago today: August 30, 2017, list of who didn't help.
Five years ago today: August 30, 2013, one smart potato.
Nine years ago today: August 30, 2009, eTrade loses it.
Random years ago today: August 30, 2014, a whopping $20.
I started today with something I have not done since she left. I had a stand-up breakfast. That’s where I stand at the stove, with a cup of coffee, and cook hush puppies two by two. Not exactly hush puppies because I use real milk and I fry them larger in half-deep oil. Like small bannocks, and I use a little more chopped onion than most recipes call for. Here’s some photos on the crappy new camera. There’s my cup of coffee, the frying process, and a dish of finished product.
Today, I was there a half-hour, kind of looking out the window. How many years has it been now? Sigh. And that’s your nostalgia quota. We got work to do. The reason I was staring out the window is thinking about all them lonely women out there who dream of meeting somebody but do nothing about it. I think it’s those millions of years of evolution happening. Well, ladies, if you got anything going for you, be at my gig tonight, 6:30 to 9:00PM. Yeah, I know, there’s no way in hell.
Just a few hours later, toward noon, I go to stand up and my back gets thrown out. I pushed myself a little on Tuesday with fixing that grill, though nothing was that strenuous. For that matter, I had pulled up a stump and did most of the work sitting down. The heaviest lifting was changing the drill batteries. I don’t need this on opening night. I can’t believe this is happening. I soaked in the hot tub an hour and I’m limbered up enough to waddle around, but I seriously can’t lift anything as heavy as the bass. I have a folding chair in the station wagon that will save my show tonight. Sometimes the condition is fleeting but that’s not the way to bet your money.
Two hours later, early afternoon. I can move a bit, either way, the show goes on. I had wanted to update the on-line ad, which as of last afternoon reads “Tomorrow”. Which is today, and I can’t get over to the library to change it. Is this one of the times I’m supposed to think, “Why me?” Or do I step back and say, listen man, the reason these problem situations even exist is because I’m not a bump on the log. What’s that old saying that aches and pains are proof you’re still alive.
Canal Street trolley.
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Next, a planning meeting. Things appear to be plodding, but we are making decisions as rapidly as each situation arises. Now the looming prospect of having to pay for a full year’s registration for the final month and pay it again the day after. We have a total of four trailers, and only one has the proper tag. We further went over the balance sheet and we are okay with what’s been spent so far. We have only $1,443 in plant and equipment, all the other expenditures have been government bullsh. Not only am I becoming convinced we are the only legitimate business of the kind, I’m now forming the opinion that we are the only ones who even know the intricacies of doing a proper job of it.
Another agenda item is the licensing. I know now that most of what the other vendors are selling is not what they are licensed for. That guy who is selling the barbequed ribs and chicken has only a business license. We talked about this for ten minutes, and I say no until we know more about how he’s been getting away with it all these years. Here’s a picture of my cutting the flashing for the new burner system. I cannot get rid of the bad coloration.
I finished watching “P.S. I Love You”. In patches. I watched in it patches. I can only take so much of that syrupy sap at once. The premise is great, though. This guy dies of a brain tumor while young and he arranges for his widow to receive letters, flowers, trips, and so on for years afterward. That keeps her hanging on, but it is the kind of thing I would do if I had money. The movie is not helped by the sub-par acting of Lisa Kudrow. Who ever told her she could act? She’s one of the trio I think do not belong on film. Kudrow, Aniston, and Alley.
He sends her to Karaoke and boating trips. Of course, she finds fault with it, he’s not letting her go. And her mother totally agrees. They’re modern liberated women. How does the movie end? I don’t really know because my player won’t play even a slightly defective disk and it stops at the part where she meets another Irishman. But since the movie is made in America, we can make a guess.
For now, I’m getting ready for the gig. I’m first going for an extended coffee downtown. Maybe work the crossword to clear the baffles.
ADDENDUM
Later, as in 8:30PM. The gig was so-so, as usual Thursday is not a big day for a club out in the middle of nowhere. There were twelve people present all evening, with an average of maybe six at any given time. Most were impressed by the show, but it is a show more suitable to smaller rooms. This has always been a factor in that club, even when they had the Sunday jams. The entertainment can only be placed along one wall, and whichever it is, that means they have to be loud to be heard at the other end of the room. There’s a picture of my stage double, the best this new camera will take.
I tried to record the show, but the new camera has the same glitch as the old one. It will randomly shut itself off anywhere you set it except on the dash of a car. Also, it best picked up the shrieking whiskey voice of a noisy drunk lady at the pool table who was convinced I needed help putting on my own show.
The conversation turned to bingo and there was some club that was recently in trouble over the game. Upon questioning, it turns out to be some club that has been in trouble over a variety of things before. I don’t have to be sold on bingo. I found all my old music and my excellent collection of sound effects. All properly filed. I’ll see if they will play on the tablet, there is sometimes an unacceptable delay full of opening credits. I know other clubs hold bingo and the rules, which I will look up again, seem to be that the house cannot make any money from the game and they cannot advertise unless they have a license. Even so, the penalty is usually nothing more than a cease and desist order. That is, I know of no instance where there was a fine. I have a lengthy history of treating civil penalties as merely an additional cost of doing business. Like licensing and fees, in my operations they are right up there with bribery.
Thus, I’m not sure about a repeat unless I can flesh it out with regular guitar strumming. That is always a possibility but not an attractive one. Guitar is ho-hum to me, always has been. That goes double for most guitar players as well. I’m not likely to give up, so let’s move along.
Anything else for today? Yes. I was happy with how I fit into one of my old stage costumes and was still crammed into one as I stopped for my once-customary after-bingo nightcap. And I caught the barmaid ogling. Makes my day. She’s a strange one, she could have had anything she wanted but dragged it out so long the novelty was gone. Anyway, I was in to see her because her brother is a welder. The problem is that the hotdog cart registration requires pictures of the actual unit. Now, with the firebox completely redone, it looks different. So I may have a cover plate welded over back to restore the appearance.
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