One year ago today: December 19, 2017, am I doomed?
Five years ago today: December 19, 2013, law firms, not musicians.
Nine years ago today: December 19, 2009, free for $46.00.
Random years ago today: December 19, 2012, bring back the rocket docket.
Featuring what’s new, here’s the first one I’ve bought in my life. It’s a mole trap, and the mechanics are pretty self-explanatory. Or maybe not. The first panel shows the working parts. You see three but there are six spikes. The trap spans the mole tunnel. You kick the tunnel in so the mole will re-dig it. The middle panel shows the trap set. As the mole disturbs the tunnel, the trigger drives the spikes down into the critter, end of problem. Like most pests, I know they are just out to survive, but somehow evolution isn’t telling them to stay away from my yard. So I have to assist Nature a little.
The last panel is a Homer bucket. Just for looks? Nope, it is over the trap as a safety measure. The trigger is really sensitive and I was out there raking leaves. There was a slight drizzle making it cool enough to work in the yard. Rake leaves in December? Yep, you want to live in Florida, it’s year round unless you plant non-native trees that don’t shed. But then, those trees are easily uprooted by hurricanes and you lose your roof. Can’t have it both ways. The banana? For scale.
I baked chicken this morning. Good, the rest of the day was kind of a follow on. You get a short post, I mean I have to sleep sometimes. Ray-B is back in Florida, kind of between cruise gigs. He’s doing a stand-in with some cute chick singer in Broward, but he’s beginning to see the reasons why dating is so difficult after 40. These women who squandered their charms want to make it up at your expense. I told him if he wants to brave the room with the space heater, he can crash here.
This is a curious state, this dating over 40. All the available written material pre-supposes you are Mr. Run-of-the-Mill who needs a little coaching on body odor, duds, and how to hold cutlery. There’s not one thing covers the psychology of older women and how to deal with their totally unreasonable demands. Money always works, but we are talking about the rest of us who, for any reason, do not pay for sex. Actually, I should say that most women do eventually come to their senses and develop a conscience, but over age 60 and be then it is far, far, far too late. For the record, I have met rich widows, but in every case, it was obvious why they stayed that way long enough for me to meet them.
Ancient German.
[Author's note: I may have to discontinue the picture of the day. I use only those photos that have no explicit credits or restrictions. But, the parameters have changed concerning copyright. That is no the problem. The problem is millennial marketing. There appears to be no way to filter out the items that want money. You often don't know until you have wasted time opening the location information. It is now taking too long to find links to regular photos.
Typical millennial thinking, they don't want to get their own advertising pages, they want to take over the free ones. Because they know nobody would go to their crappy site, they want to post their for sale junk in everybody's face and issue threats. So typical.]
Ray-B reports his gigging with that, oh, what’s her name? Looks way better on her promo shots than real life, which is standard these days. I forget. Anyway, I presented the offer that if he isn’t going back to the cruise lines a few weeks and has nothing lined up, he can crash here and help me spruce this place up for a week. I’ll pay him $10 per hour, he understands I cannot guarantee more than 4 hours per day. And we split any money if we play for tips, though it is likely he would solo once I show him the circuit that takes new acts.
Let’s not forget how heavily he is into the local music scene. He’s got a double garage literally full of major road gear. He seems to have learned late in life that less is more. As a duo, we could likely in no time be charging as much as a trio. That’s $300 simply because there is no competition. Most of the venues here don’t have stages big enough for a trio in the first place. I asked him to send me MP3s of the tunes he plans to sing, saying I’ll go along with his schedule. That’s a safe bet for me, because he’ll rapidly learn to prefer stage time with me. Alas, that is one facet of what I do that cannot be demonstrated at a rehearsal.
The photo? That’s a pineapple. Banana for scale. Little Internet joke there, guys. Anyway, I call this the old girlfriend pineapple. I can explain. Okay, look at how pretty it looks, and you know it is all sweet on the inside. But that rough skin has spikes and thorns. And on this pineapple, that is particularly thick skin. When people ask me just how thick, they get a curious expression when I answer, “Around half a lifetime.”
ADDENDUM
Mixed review on the diet, now day 380. On the scale, I’ve regained 8 lb since I returned, but that is not what is important. There is no way I’ve eaten a fraction of the food required for that gain. So is happening is I’m still dropping inches. Jeans that I was proud to squeeze into three months ago now require new belt notches. I’ve received congratulatory e-mails from people who see my recent pictures. It’s not all great, but for the most part, this type of diet is apparently working.
What is not great? I have wrinkles now. Small, but not a good sign. My skin itself has undergone a transformation, you cannot lose 35 pounds and not show it. I don’t exercise regularly, but I’m active every day. My skin is no longer resilient and it took me long enough to admit it. Also, my leatherneck from motorcycling is now noticeable from a distance. I could mention I look better than most people my age, but such comparisons are hardly meaningful. Most people my own age do not crawl under their own houses, write blogs, play bass, or date four classy women at once to the Xmas concert.
Meanwhile, the guitar player has not called back. The audition went so well that silence could mean anything. It was more of a gig-ready check than a practice. We played all 42 tunes without a hitch, there were errors but they were professionally covered. If we smooth off a few edges there is no reason we should not be playing out by next week. I e-mailed a note saying I’m okay with a coffee house, pool party, etc. The possible glitch? He’s finally met his match in a bass player and that does not always sit well with guitarists.
I continued learning from the list he sent and I’ve written a few novel bass lines to the weaker spots. He plays “I Hear You Knockin”, that old Lazy Lester tune that Cowboy Mike put on my repertoire. While I’m not a Blues fan, I fitted lines to “Steamroller Blues” and “Bartender Blues”. I’m looking closer at “Pride and Joy”. I’m holding back a bit because he has not specified if he will be singing any of these. They are not my type of music.
And you should hear me play “Exes & Ohs” (Elle King) as a bass solo. Ha!
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