One year ago today: April 23, 2021, home-made chicken loaf.
Five years ago today: April 23, 2017, a batch of bannock.
Nine years ago today: April 23, 2013, trailer pad rentals.
Random years ago today: April 23, 2020, temp shed roof.
All that work for this tiny device on the wall. This is the birdbath controller. Instead of the long trek outside to give them some spray, a simple crank of this dial. Works better because I don’t put off the chore, or leave the water on all day because a second trip is needed to turn it off. The timer is not functional yet as the outside pipes are just now getting buried. I got out there before noon to chop down most of the jungle in the back yard, the potato farm area. The start of four hours of puttering, I took it in stride. That includes moving some concrete blocks, getting ready to tackle the hot water tank. When that happens, by the way, my kitchen becomes 10% larger.
Where do I put my clothesline? It has to be near the laundry deck, giving me a challenge. Wherever I chose, it blocks something else, so I’m tempted to string it across to the silo. The back area, around 60% finished, has quickly become a favorite work spot so I’m tempted to put up a single 12 foot beam over two uprights. If nothing, a place to hang the misters, which are now indespensible. See this chop saw?
The birds have now established the new back yard as home base. Grandma Red is the dominant user, sometimes letting Grandpa think he’s boss. That broken tree limb I hung on the wall with a spare shelf bracket can no longer be moved. It is her favorite perch. The birds are around every morning and evening. They tolerate a lot of the smaller birds, particularly willing to share the water dripper. Alas, that dripper is also going on the timer as I’ve forgotten it more than once. While I’ve never used a fifth of the water I pay for, that as lost that one time the toilet tank leaked when I was in Miami for a week. That was $400.
Soon I plan to get you pictures of the small garden back yard area, probably after I get around to finishing the slats on the lawn bench. I had to invest in new bolts ¾ of an inch longer and am still trying to find time to complete the chore.
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I worked until after dark, for a total 6-1/2 hours, meaning maybe I’m back on track. It’s a clear-cut decision to work on small projects if I don’t feel up to a good work day. I can always come back to some siding on the shed, but once I start that hot water tank, it has to be one shot. The trench to the birdbath is done, shown here with the piping being measured. That’s not all done and glue. It’s not tested, I’ll wait until it’s nice and bright for that. This is the birdbath pipe that turns on the dripper, and soon the misting sprayers now that I know the make the correct adapters.
This pipe has to be assembled in place, meaning an hour kneeling in the dirt. But that’s where you notice the high quality of that dirt. Why won’t things grow there? I raked out the planned potato patch at the far back because I know they are not fussy about soil. That’s the more sandy side of the yard.
Finally, I knocked off for the day and went over to Bartow, where a friend has a better than usual Karoke show. Tonight, boring and slow, it was short-squat-fat ladies night most of the music was tribal thump, though I paid close attention to what people sang along with. Not one of them tunes was a winner and none adaptable to bass. There is nothing there I can use, though I still choose to pay attention.
[Author's note: that paragraph is unclear. What I mean is I pay attention for any possible contemporary popular tunes and that includes Karaoke. I watch for what is adaptable to bass playing. This is one method I use to keep up with trends. If the music makes me look up and listen, it is a candidate. Sadly, most of what they sing today lacks a distinctive sound, that is, no hooks.]
Strange how with all the sources on the Internet, I cannot find a single one-click site that shows Trump’s rally in Ohio. Remember the mother-daughter local band that would have gone places if they’d answered my knock on their door that fateful day in 2017? It went much as I predicted, the band is no more. Though, that is a judgment call saying that family bands ever break up. It’s when you see the once-inseparable team no more that tells the tale from the trailer court. I don’t know the details but I sure recognize the situation. Daughter and husband in the Karaoke bar at 11:30PM Saturday night, mom at home with the kid. Sigh.
Yet you know, if I could team up with the older lady, the mother, I would. Why? A number of reasons, top being that neither mother or daughter are my type, which avoids a huge set of difficulties right there. She half-strums guitar, which is all I need, and she can sing. It may not sound like a plus, but they run with a totally different crowd. I work best in situations where I have nothing in common with others except music. Her and my tastes in music are identical, or I should say were until they got sidetracked by all that Nashville talk and lost their direction.
Thinking you’ll get anywhere playing live in Nashville is like thinking you’ll get rich working for a bank just because that’s where the money is. If her and I had a set, I’d march her right down to Dodson’s office and take full credit for what I found. Seven hundred dollars a show plus tips works for me. She has experience, she’s still quite pretty, she has a following, has demonstrated dedication, and seems on top of most situations. I’d also noticed their song list was regularly update, how rare that is. On the downside, she’ll never make it big because she lacks the hunger. That’s where I come in, I just wanna get on that stage and stay there.
