March 10, 2019

Yesteryear
One year ago today: March 10, 2018, a tough year.
Five years ago today: March 10, 2014, bloopish?
Nine years ago today: March 10, 2010, dredging the market.
Random years ago today: March 10, 2015, non-resident?

           I wasn't going to say, but here's your real insider report of what happened last evening. I poked into Rebar on the Dam, a local watering hole known as just The Rebar. Argh, a cover charge. I hate cover charges, I think the house should absorb the cost of the entertainment with increased sales. So I left and drove a mile down the road to Lucky's. But I got no service. I stood at the counter, so they saw me, but the guy and the gal were too busy. It seems.

           So I'm waiting there, other customers who know them are pointing at me and telling them there's a guy waiting. After about five minutes, I said hell with that and drove back to the Rebar. This time the band was playing and the music was unfamiliar but excellent. The singer had one of what I call a "wolf" voice, it's somewhat deep than usual. I asked and for $5 cover, I was listening to the local recording star J. Edwards.

           I don't think the guy cares for me. Because here is what happened. First, I swing through the bar and notice all his groupies and followings are past middle age, particular the women. I watch the band bit, and only the music is fine. It's the usual recording artist with a band of hirelings half his age. The thing is, they all just stood there like it was a studio session. Zero stage movement. Couple that with the unknown, but certainly new country, music and the empty dance floor. I quickly found a quiet corner at the far end of the bar and proceeded to check my e-mail. And such.

           Hmmm, this activity seemed to draw some attention. I must be in some working class neighborhood. The only one not fixated on the band, but I'm not part of his following. After a bit, I suspected maybe the audience was also paid help. They all had their bar stools moved around to face the stage but generally were a stoic bunch. After a couple, I noticed one of the groupies looked a bit less housewife-ish, so I asked her to dance. Heck the floor was still empty.
           Turns out she could follow well enough, to I spun her like daisies. Took her through the intermediate silver West Coast Swing, how she loved the sweetheart step. Talk about livening up the place. My regret was the house would not let me video, trust me, it was a mini-dance exhibition. Great, right? Not so fast. When the dance finished the place broke into a "tumultous" applause. The table of women she'd been at was standing and cheering, she was the star. All should be fine.

           Nope. I glanced back over my shoulder and there was J. Edwards kind of giving me the half-evil eye. Well, hey. I don't know how much applause he got before I arrived, but yes, I brought down the house. It was also too late in the evening for him to build back any applause momentum. I hope I didn't steal his thunder. As I wrote to Trent, I decided that was not the best time to ask him if he needed a bass player with some stage presence.

Picture of the day.
Hall of Mirrors.
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           This Sunday was many long hours of walking and talking. There's a restored mansion on Lebanon Pike I've always wanted to tour. It was closed Sunday, so we walked all the way to the river. The recent rainstorms have flooded the walking paths. There was an old flour mill that was part of a tour, I'm told. It's gone. All that remains was this silo. I found this viewpoint, I dunno, fit for the cover of a blues or country album jacket. It's a bleak scene, one of the reasons I don't care for the winter season the way others do.

           I'm a bit taken by prices, remember where I live is one of the least expensive places in the USA. Stopping for two bowls of soup at the Panera (all the mom & pops are closed or packed on Sunday), the tab came to $20. It was good, but not fancy. I'll shop around before I go there again. Usually the Panera is coffee and a cookie, now I know why. This is partially a business trip, so finances are in the conversation. Except for the novelty of seeing some new places, the next short while is not going to be blog prime time.

           Tennessee is heavily changing to the last waves of the baby boom. All country homes are snapped, what's left on the market are overpriced. Robynette talked about Joelton as a country setting on the outskirts. I find that has changed. She described an artist's type retreat a half hour from the city, but I found nothing but box houses and vacant land in the range one would consider for living twenty miles out of town. It's not forgotten my place was the 509th proprty on my list. I'll help look but the Internet has made these searches so homogenous that no matter what county you specify, the same properties show up.
           Later in the day, I took the dogs for another lengthy walk, this time over by Priest Lake. It is flooded, the shores are gone and the parking lot is underwater. I parked up the lane at an abandoned picnic site, Robynette said there was a nice route through there. It was kind of overgrown, but the doggies and I stumbled into the briars. Thirty some minutes later, we bump into an all-girl film crew. Reflectors, hooded camera, and a big key ring of bird calls. Naturally, I dropped into pose mode and they snapped a dozen of me. So if I'm on the cover of an upcoming Field & Stream, buy all copies and send them to me. The women? I was prettier than they were. So were the dogs. Aw, that was mean.

           The path was described as a loop, but after some miles, I could not be sure. So we walked back, finding out later that another thousand paces would have found the curve back to the car. I was using the time to think, so was unaware this walk was several times longer than the pets are used to. That means this shot of them just sitting still in the station wagon is not usual. You think they look tired? You can't see me.
           You know something that grinds my gears? That pop-up when your program crashes saying "Windows is searching for a solution to the problem." God sakes Windows, if there is a solution, just fix it. Don't waste my time while you go looking. You've had forty years to get it together. Bunch of morons. Yes, I could do better. But my grandfather wasn't William Gates the First. That's my excuse. I mean, it's not like those people ever worked harder than I did.

Last Laugh