One year ago today: August 5, 2019, a Kennedy fake.
Five years ago today: August 5, 2015, a housing near-miss.
Nine years ago today: August 5, 2011, sewing machine coincidence.
Random years ago today: August 5, 2017, mmm, still warm.
This morning I revamped the mailing list and the concept of it. Reviewing the latest reports on chat line, tweets, and e-mails, I have placed two more folks on the good old ordinary USPS. Not only is ordinary mail far more secure than anything you can do on-line, it’s also good to get an old-fashioned letter the mail, followed closely by a government check. I’m just sayin’. Here’s the lovely Becca and I going through one of the bundles of stereopticon pictures. There are an estimated 200 all told, which is actually quite a large collection.
And I was treated to a reminder that my the heart condition I got as a retirement gift from the phone company is permanent. I must take blood pressure med for life. My habit is to take them at noon, so when my vitals are taken just before then it reveals my pressure will rise as much as twenty units in 24 hours. Yep, for life.
So that is why one takes the opportunities to visit when you can. Becca and I spent two hours on the sewing computer, I have yet to see the thing in operation. It is connected to two sewing machines that have extended throat plates. The process seems to be any picture, she is also an artist, is digitalized and the software has the machines stitch them up. Not an art form I patronize but it is robotic enough to get my interest. She is no longer capable of yard work, so her lawn will soon be history. Therefore she has donated the weed whacker, which I can already almost get running.
The Democrat-infected polls once again lose credibility. They’ve been reporting only figures that denigrate Trump. They’ve been on a two-month rampage announcing the candidate is gaining, their age-old bandwagon scam. Now it turns out based on the firm statistic of voter registration, they have not even been treading water. I’m not the only one who views them less of a political party and more like a lawless scourge who don’t belong here. That was reinforced a few hours ago when Biden, who has no hope unless he gets the Latino vote, held his “Master Plan” announcement and only 136 tuned in.
The latest hypocrisy is Obama’s wife declaring she is suffering “depression” from witnessing Trump’s “racial strife”. But even that is getting them nowhere. There are two things when you go looking for them, you’ll find them everywhere. Trouble and racism.
Rogue wave.
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A dip in the weather had me out side working on the smaller shed, the one I’ve begun calling the scooter shed. This is the hidden shelter behind the fence panels straightened and reinforced this Tuesday. I had to move the fence bottom up a foot off the ground, any more would draw attention. This was to get the ceiling high enough to not have to duck and also give space for shelving or lockers for things that don’t need full indoor storage. Right now I have an entire counter taken up with paint cans and sprays from insecticide to more paint.
Remind me to leave a spot in the back for an area to work on dirty and oily stuff. I’ve been using my carpentry space and the resulting mess is a headache.
I won’t and don’t speak for Becca but to me, a house like that would be a burden and a constant reminder of being alone. She has no lack of suitors but she can never be sure what they are after. She’s told me of a few and it was hard to not laugh at their pathetic antics. They’ve retained the concept of women they got from the schoolyard back during recess. They’ve learned nothing. I take it as a huge compliment the way women drop ten stress levels around me. When I want something, I ask for it, but these social write-off men around Florida must make women sick. They’re everywhere and it is disgusting.
I’ve a few more comments on that conversation. She asked me why men are like that, but since I don’t socialize with AOLs, the nearest thing I have to exposure would be my brothers—because from her descriptions, nothing has changed with that mob. Now, I know most of these guys could be decent people if they tried, and how do I know this? Because women tell again and again they did not find out these men’s true character until things were already underway. Ah, the triumph of hope over experience. I won’t get into how difficult is it for most men to behave in the long run. Besides, I’ve already mentioned my brothers.
ADDENDUM
First a glance at this microscope from the Lightner museum. These solid brass instrument often had finishes that exceeded the true performance of the tool. My attachment here is that I once had the opportunity to pick one of these up for cheap, but did not like how poorly it performed. Man, what would have be worth today? And in this mess since I renovated the other room, where is my digital microscope? It’s under something and I don’t have time for a look.
When applied to Twain’s top hits, the effect is both good and bad. Remember when I describe this I am NOT a loud bass player, and I do not overplay any band. I’m talking about something else here. The good news is the tune livens up to a remarkable degree, I’ll get you dancing. This has turned me into a fan of the lady, both live music and listening on the juke box. The down side is this bass technique makes the bass the, what’s the word, not dominant but shall we say most “assertive” part of the song. It matches the vocals more than the other components. If I miss a single note it draws even more attention. And the same technique seems to apply to all her top selling pieces.
A quick scooter to the donut shop in Bartow and I can see across the tracks that the old club is open. In the mood, I stopped in to find all the regulars a regulation six feet apart and the server is a little sweetheart though not my type. A couple patrons knowing my knack put 24 tunes on the juke box and asked me to make the selections. And you can guess what a couple of my top choices were. I played all chick music except a couple Jackson and Cash tunes. Had you been there you would have seen proof concerning my theory at in a bar, chick music is best. When the girls are happy, everybody is happy.
Hmmm, do I tell you about the chicks? Okay, since the numbnuts in the second balcony will accuse me of bragging anyway. Three heavy-set Latina ladies teamed up for a night off. They were older and rough on the eyes. Latina fat is different that European fat, that’s my take. Anyway, one of them took a shine to me and I had to apply the brakes. This is not always as easy as it sounds, use your most diplomatic manner. What? I used the wrong word? Got it, “Jose” Biden says I’m supposed to say Latinx. Did I spell that correctly? Three Latinx ladies. Cripes, Jose, that does not sound good. What are you even thinking?
