March 31, 2022

Yesteryear
One year ago today: March 31, 2021, a crowdfunding precedent.
Five years ago today: March 31, 2017, when tools were new, sigh.
Nine years ago today: March 31, 2013, yep, I said “terra mousse”.
Random years ago today: March 31, 2015, already forgotten Zack.

           Damn, this seems like the longest month yet. Not that I mind time slowing down. I’m taking today off. I see a big report of an Airbus plane making a flight powered by cooking oil. What a joke, this is not progress. Jets will technically run on anything that burns, I believe they had models that ran on coal dust back in the 1940s. And the authorities are being tight-lipped about the process of making this cooking oil, so it means they use fossil fuel to do it. I don’t think they are getting it from used vats at McDonalds.

           My paperback is 2/3rds finished and let’s see if I guess right. The two bad guys who want the house have some old letters from their pappy who hints there is Civil War gold hidden there, but it will be rusty cannonballs. And how many times do people have to be told not to recharge their phones on the library computers. And today, when I was 19, was the first time I ever heard the term “bullshit artist” from a lady who never swore. The award goes to Boost Mobile, who blasted us for the past two months with fifty messages a day that 3G will no longer work.

           They lie, it works just fine, they are the ass-clowns for canceling it. But only for you. It still works fine for telemarketers, moronic texts, and their incessant advertising. Where can I find an old radio? They are a rare item in America. A desk model, I mean. The radio gets listened to most in this place in the bathroom. Why? Because these older radios can be connected to a motion detector. New types lose the station when power is lost and will not turn back on by themselves on restoral. I like a radio in the kitchen but have done without since December, thinking I’ll find one at the Thrift.

           With willpower, I took the day off. For the first time since I got here, I sat in the back bedroom and looked out on my own little green area. I’m missing the fancy armchair and the yard still needs plenty of tidying up, but this is the place I will die. Or, at least I imagined so in May of 2016. What can I say, I’ve recovered to the point I can work on two places as long as I get regular breaks, but I’m not fooling myself.

           Here’s a picture I don’t think you’ve seen, it is the anti-doggie fence in Tennessee. What you don’t see is how this used every scrap of spare lumber in the yard. Nothing left over. There are dogs on the other side of that taller fence behind and Chooks is wild trying to get out at times. The reason for the space between the fences is a deer trail, although the younger animals can effortlessly leap the rails.
           Another picture, I found the missing drain tray for the water heater. This was from the days I was going to install the new unit indoors. It has a drain port to minimize damage but I have no idea how often these things go on the blink. These trays are expensive and this one was on sale so it’s been kicking around here at least five years. Note the heavy leaf fall on the laundry deck. This is a few day’s worth.

Picture of the day.
Scene in Provence, France.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           [Author’s note: the flower pictured below has tentatively been identified (finally) as a Madagascar periwinkle.]

           I lolled around all day, sort of like I had once imagined myself doing every day after I really retired. But I can’t break my habit of getting something constructive done every day. It’s mid-afternoon, so if you see a picture here, then I found enough gumption to get underway. Just moments ago one of those Florida windstorms tore through here, so I’ll probably get to rake the yard. Later, here’s one better, I did some transplanting. These are fresh cuts and I warn you, I’ve not had great luck with propagating anything except a few non-flowering species. This is 50/50 potting mix and sandy soil (mine tailings). Not shown I also planted a row of Mexican heather.

           The way works is I used to just plant things in the ground to see what grew. When I met Agt. R, who has advanced horticultural training, I asked him how it’s done. He said, just plant things and see what grows. So here you go. Who remembers that lawn bench from several years back? I used untreated lumber, but I treated it and gave the slats several thick layers of weather proofing. No luck, they all gave out. Why the blog mention?

           Because the original repair took me days to complete. This time I had the tools and experience and the slats we ready within the hour. There’s a view nearby of the slats that broke from ordinary use. This time I’ve got thick slats made from the 5/4” deck lumber, sawn into matching strips with the smell of pine. I even got the old chair dismantled and the hardware salvaged. I would have continued but for dark and an approaching rain shower. I even have the new slats routed to match. Some might say that is the payoff from experience, I mean, the whole bench will be done in another hour. But I retort saying the fact is my experience is not from carpentry, but finally having all the right power tools for such projects.

           By 7:30PM I had put in three hours on a day off. Good, because we know what happens to people who don’t keep busy. I read a small passage on clocks, or more accurately, the need for man to divide time into equal periods as civilization advances. My theory is that you can tell how a civilization is coming along by how accurately a day can be divided this way. Thus, I don’t rate calendars and other annual markers as important as a daily timepiece. Take the Mayan calendar and its so-called hyper-accuracy. Counted for a hill of beans when the conquistadors met at the appointed hour and attacked.

           Trivia. I did not know that French girl hair was a style. I thought that wind-blown somewhat mussed up was natural from other plain hair fashion, but it is a do you can order at a salon. Myself, to this day I’m the same as when I first noticed girls—give me natural, wholesome good looks. I never found any other kind attractive. My greatest turnoff remains fat.

ADDENDUM
           I pulled up a separate set of records I kept concerning bass playing in the social sense. It is about the experiences I had as a bass player, as opposed to what bass playing is about or any sense of what you read here. You’ve seen samples for sure, where I write about things that happened at gigs. The collection of notes, around 380 pages, is more about the effect of music on my life and how I came to be, at 33, playing nothing but bass. It’s repetitious in spots but there was never an intention for it to document the events or head toward some goal.
           Whereas the Reb finds it boring reading except for the last parts, she hints that other may find it truly amusing. Enough to buy a book? I estimate to go over the material and coordinate it to read like the paperback idea now being kicked around would take months because it would have to be developed page by page. However, we still have full access to the publishing contacts we did not follow up and for the most part the material is already written. Check with me on this later. If I do anything, it will borrow heavily from this blog beginning around 1979.
           At that time, I was in university and in the longest stretch in my life where I did not play out consistently. A few journal entries reveal that when I did gig, I was increasingly being asked to play bass. This is also the era when my approach to bass playing made a huge difference. I learned the riffs on a piano, them translated them onto bass. Suddenly I was a popular bassist, getting tipped more than expected and had people telling me I was talented. If they only knew.

           Stink bugs. Yes, that is what I smelled the other day. A couple got inside the house. It is an unpleasantly sweet perfumy odor and I was expecting something bad. Time for a massive perimeter spray.

Last Laugh