One year ago today: May 10, 2018, sigh, the camper.
Five years ago today: May 10, 2014, often lots more . . .
Nine years ago today: May 10, 2010, gospel condo?
Random years ago today: May 10, 2006, unconnected fragments.
Up at dawn, had my bran flakes and the phone rings. How would I like to visit a nature preserve? Would I, wood eye? Any type of field trip works with me. The question is when? Wait, there’s another question. Lots of walking, and while I can endure taking the pets for hours, can I keep up with a group? Let me check, yes, it is within budget, so is stopping for brunch. Stay tuned, I really need such a break.
Anything unusual? Yes. Last day Agt. R was on duty and he played a batch of oldies on the juke box. I had just dropped by to borrow tools and he was singing along, not bad. What happened was next something I’d never attempted because I’ve never seen it done. He only knew choruses, so I sang the verses—but found I was able to switch to harmonies when he picked up the chorus. Neat sound. I guess it might not work on recorded music, but live, it was just fine. Hmmm, switching between melody and harmony with no effort. Six months ago I would not have believed it possible.
Anything changed? Yes. I’m spending not only more time in the yard, but more time in the sunlight. I was lily-white when I moved here. Have I finally succeeded in morphing into the home-owner type I wanted to become thirty years ago? Where I’ve failed to train myself to watch TV, I’ve discovered I like most DVDs. Thousands of movies I’ve never seen because I did not waste my youth staring at television. There’s a reason today is the first and only picture of me pulling weeds.
The catch is, thirty years slows you down. Let me list what I got done today, as a revelation of how little makes me weary now. I trimmed and planted five of the backbone bushes, with rooting hormone. My lovely shellac sawhorses have worn the finish off, so I’ve undercoated them with primer with an eye to painting them. I sanded more of the bedroom trim but left it outside. In the bedroom, all I did was take measurements and sweep up. It’s nearly done, appearance-wise, which means it is ready for occupancy. There are a few follow-on chores, like the closet light and one spot of the attic isn’t insulated yet.
I mixed some potting soil with Tennessee yard dirt, a 50/50 mix to start some flowers that should be ready by late June. Then ten minutes raking leaves and another ten watering everything. That broken pick-axe meant I had to work extra with other gardening tools, I lasted maybe an hour in total. While this is a level of physical activity well ahead of just a few years ago, I’m also gaining weight again. I’m counting calories and don’t like the way I look, since it reminds me of the precursor to my first heart attack. Unexplained weight gain, well beyond anything explainable by food intake. No, I don’t sleepwalk.
Hacker code.
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The newspapers are cramming this bull donkey about trade wars down our maws again. It’s a cheap and easy thing to report. So is going after the President’s family and so is pretending it is illegal to even talk business with the Russians. Nowadays there is usually a quip about Alabama’s tough new abortion law, notwithstanding that there hasn’t actually been anything new in that place since 1952. And wasn’t Trump supposed to make it easier to sue for defamation? That would be an upsetting move, since in America there is an old saying that possession is 9/10ths of the decision whether to sue you or not.
A rare find, some newsreels at the library of old French military during the First World War. Of interest to me was the tanks. All the battle action scenes are old and here were some training films, including scenes of the tanks being driven to the front. A lot is said about British and American developments, but it was the French who put these to the most use. It makes sense, since they were running out of soldiers.
What would strike viewers today is that the tank was not understood at the time. They drove on their own to and from the battlefield, with crews and officers following in Model Ts, and the battle scenes give the impression the tanks were slow and lumbering. They were designed to cross no-man’s-land and are actually quite agile. If I was a tank driver, I’d avoid all the drama and steer around shell craters and big ditches.
I’m reminded of my old Boss, Bill Foster. He’s the guy convinced the French lost all their wars because it took them so long to say anything. After an hour of watching these videos, he may be right. From what I can hear, all the French towns had the same name, no matter how it’s spelled. Sort of a throat-clearing cough sound. How can you win battles if everybody gets lost half the time?
With the fence up, I cleared away a spot for target practice. These are only .177 air pellets, but they will go clean through a 2x6” at fifty feet. I had some plywood boxes filled with 1-1/2” of sand, plus the 2x6” planks. The first pellet went through all of it and into the fence. I’ll beef it up. There’s nothing behind the fence except the wall of an abandoned shed across the road, but I’m not taking chances. I’ve put more than one shot through the same hole before. Not today, though. My telescopic sights were 7” off at fifty feet.
Last, the Internet service here that would match what’s available in Tennessee will cost $81 per month. That’s my gas budget and includes a ton of features I don’t use and some I wouldn’t use if they were free. I’m searching for a plan with no contract, I know they are available because I know people with service that could never fulfill anything like reliable payments over time.
ADDENDUM
Still missing my bird book, this picture is from my feeder guide. This is as near as I can identify the little visitors, really a best guess. They are insect eaters but like sunflower seeds, which would explain their daily presence. I’m late in the game for feeding wild birds. I believe I’m presenting a balanced habitat by leaving most of the yard in a natural state, but I intend to nuture the growth of any flowers that will bloom.
But I don’t think bird-watching will compete with girl-watching. Not unless I live to be 120, at which point I’ll think excitement is next week’s church bake sale. At 130 I may even get a Florida driver’s license. Don’t laugh, there are, I’ve heard rumored, some eight different situations unrelated to operating a vehicle that Florida will take away your driver’s license. Things like late support payments, unsettled law suits, and tax liens means you’re walking. Don’t quote me on those. The real crime is that without a license, you can never catch up because the US job sector is built around owning a car to get there. Suspending or revoking the license, I don’t know the fine points, but it is Florida’s answer to debtor’s prison.
I’ve finished reading “Eagle Against the Sun”. I’ll be keeping that for a reference. It’s a balanced description of the fumbling with which America goes to war and what they encounter because of it. The way America behaves, suicide attacks are nothing new. The press still goes on about American heroism, but who can name one hero from last week? We win, causing the Chinese to look closer than we have about how we pulled that off. Take a Zero pilot in 1945, with a few hours flying time, assigned to attack an American Task Force. He’s in a formation sure, but he’s alone in that cockpit.
The American pilot against him has a support staff of around 52 people backing him up. That number comes from not just radar operators, submarine patrols, intelligence intercepts, weather reporters, and radio interpreters who spoke Japanese, but a level of indirect support most can only imagine. Sure, the Navy pilot who shot down nine enemy in one day gets all the credit, but he was hardly flying solo. They say you learn more by losing. And the first thing you learn by losing is that it is much better to win.
