January 30, 2021

Yesteryear
One year ago today: January 30, 2020, dollar to a dime.
Five years ago today: January 30, 2016, call it “rhythm bass”.
Nine years ago today: January 30, 2012, 6 to 8 months.
Random years ago today: January 30, 2009, $30 million more than me.

           That pocket hole jig gives me a head start. The quality of design and work may not pass muster, but the joinery goes fast. We are talking minutes. Here’s a blank wall I intent to do something about today. It’s too chilly, but we’ll get underway around noon. Calculations show I need around 112 feet of overhead racks or shelving to free up floor space. Least used items are slated to be shelved six feet off the floor. Check back later and see how far I get. The boards were already stained, I should mention. That time is not included.

           Yep, inflation is going to wallop the entire middle and lower classes. Here’s a bottle of my favorite beard shampoo, I insist on having the cleanest beard in the universe. I squawked last year when this same bottle was $7. Today it was $11. And you don’t even want to know what’s happened to lumber prices. I’m more into the labor phase of the renovation. That means I get a bit of a break, but I still have to buy some supplies.

           Yet more states, now that Biden is in the White House, are deciding it is suddenly okay to open again for business. Mainly restaurants, but could they be any more obvious. The one enduring benefit of Trump cannot be stated often enough—he’s forced the left out into the open. Most Americans have known for years that politics was dirty, but you could not always be sure who and how.
           Now that’s gone if only because the Democrats have openly shown us what to watch for. I mean, a 5,600 page document to send us $600 each? And the inflation impact of his $3.1 trillion handout, the one where he promised $2,000 but is only making it $1,400. And just you watch, most of that will be included in some lame transfer to their overseas buddies.

Picture of the day.
Hungarian border fence.
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           The yard is sprouting collard greens again. I’ve learned to like it, same with kale. Here’s Matilda enjoying a late brunch next to a small batch of the greens. She doesn’t eat weeds, I do. What has she got there? Ah, leftover buttermilk biscuits. She attacks them with vigor, but see that patch of open dirt she is standing on? This is one chicken that will not eat worms. It’s hard to tell if its natural or because she’s learned to prefer people food.

           The guitar player called back. He’s got a lot of auditions, this happens on every downturn in the economy. I’m pretty sure he’s telling me things he does not discuss with the others, likely when he picked up that I’ve got band management experience up the yingyang. I’d also mentioned that there was a good chance I would know the people who answered his ad—they carry a distinct load of characteristics. A common one is they’ve taken lessons.
           He’ll have fun sifting through the lot because some are professional auditioners. Or should I say auditioneers, ha-ha? You heard me. He reports one of them showed up able to play the whole list. That raised instant alarms for me but not for him. So I asked a few questions since guitarists often get a different message from the same set of input. I garner that the guy had comped most of the bass lines, where I play the studio bass lines. The reason is guitarist, let’s call him McCoy, said for the second time that he liked the sound of my bass.

           I’ll tie that together, you see, my bass is nothing special. I use no effects, not even reverb, and I was playing though his amplifier. He’d further said he liked the way my notes faded, which is known technically as decay. I said nothing to him, but I pay very close attention to decay, I won’t much play open strings even when convenient—what he’s hearing could be the way I match my decay to piano notes. I’ve never said, but I started doing this around 2005 when I rehearsed with that Brian guitar player out in Pembroke Pines. Otherwise, I have no clear idea what else this new guy could be referring to.

           Foreseeing how this will go for him, I’ll continue devoting time to his song list. He is eager to play out and I selfishly say the other players will let him down. I know the reasons I’m not in a band right now and I also know why the others aren’t. And the reasons are polar opposites. Bottom line is there is something fishy about a bass player showing up and playing everything. For all I know, maybe what McCoy heard was the way I play “rhythm” bass and didn’t glom on to it. And nearby, you should see a photo of the latest shelving unit. It was finished and mounted in around three hours, notice the blind hangers? Um, Ken, that’s because you can’t see them.
           The design is modular, it can be added onto. Most likely, another high shelf along the roof for stuff that would need a stepstool to reach. To be self-sufficient, I need a variety of gear that I don’t use that often. And too many times, it has become important to not advertise a project and some gear can store on a shelf well for years if need be. That’s the “missing top” board seen here.

Last Laugh