June 5, 2022

Yesteryear
One year ago today: June 5, 2021, Gloria is a dick.
Five years ago today: June 5, 2017, I found the Mapleline, Wal*Mart.
Nine years ago today: June 5, 2013, Mango-picker.
Random years ago today: June 5, 2007, I have in mind a 450.

           Early enough we got over to the recycling bins with the doggies. That empty field they like is no more. June 5, building materials. There is a surge of condo building although for the life of me I don’t know who is buying these things. I do know that rents have soared so some buy in desperation but anything with monthly fees other than taxes and utilities are just pushing the problem down the line. The monthly pad rental at the Bamboo is now $700 per month. (The Bamboo is in Hollywood, FL, used as a benchmark because they publish their prices.)

           We stopped at a roadside sale and found no bargains. I’m allowed one cheeseburger per year, so we tentatively planned a stop at the Blue Turtle. Never made it, instead we walked the doggies around a veteran’s park and talked. Back home we recorded an impromptu version of “These Paws Were Made For Walkin;”, which if you see it viral on-line, that’s us. It’s time for me to head back this week, we had never planned such long visits, but we’ll leave that discussion for future busybodies to conclude they knew so. Because with us, you do not know any such thing. We remain cats & dogs, the Reb & I. Here’s a view of the self-powered Honda, pride of my fleet. In a moment I’ll explain why it might get sold.

           The amount of lifting work this past month has been a great workout, but left my arms cramped up a bit, but why did it choose my bass-playing muscles? This caused us to dismiss several plans, including an afternoon at the pinball arcade. It’s the result of lifting and pushing too many lawnmowers, dude. I even got one of them in the van for the return journey, though what I’ll do with it in Florida is a question mark. It was a further disappointment to find neither of the two gas motors is easy enough to start for the Reb when they are stone cold. She’s used gas mowers before, it’s just these two will not quite turn over at her maximum pull.
           Maybe I should stay on but there is too much to do in Florida. I wonder what my peach tree and garden even looks like, I’ve already been away four weeks. The life up here is equally as active and maybe more thanks to the workout of walking the dogs more than I walk at home. That’s a call, however, because at my place I do a large amount of walking in maintaining the yard. My shed door is sixty feet from my kitchen door, and that path may get well worn if I find any non-working lawnmowers soon enough.

Picture of the day.
White Sea – Baltic Canal lock.
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           I’ll share something with you. Fatigue. Stand up and let your arms hang down, then bend your elbows up you were drawing pistols. Hold them there long enough and you’ll feel my fatigue. My point is, if I’m going to be useless, I’d rather be useless back in Florida, where I’ll fit right in. I didn’t want to start missing this place (in Tennessee) but you know what they say about having so much history together. I of two minds when I hear that other people have such difficulty meeting someone and the Reb agrees. It’s fascinating to compare the respective reasons for that. In fact, let me indulge in a few words on that topic. I was overlooked when I was young because I was not tall and handsome, but I got over it soon enough and nowadays laugh at what women find attractive.
           I agree with the Reb that it is unfortunate older women become invisible, but it’s not like the men involved were never on the receiving end. Why did this topic come up? It turns out last visit to the Sunflower I was not the only one who noticed so many attractive women dating slobs. I throw that one out to the audience. I say it is no “Beauty and The Beast” scenario we witnessed, but an outcome of simple influences over long periods. Men tend toward thinking being a good provider rates them a trophy wife, women think being attractive is more important than anything else.

           The thing here is that the Reb has never seen central Florida. She’s never been to the cabin and I’ve been back and forth there six years. Let me describe momentarily the dating pool of Polk County, from the average weekend in town. From the stage, it looks like there are usually around 65 men on the prowl and around 90 women who are never there all at once and tend to show up in groups of three, enough to discourage all the wimps in the room but for all I know that is their battle plan. The Reb & I decided I should finish loading the van and then we’ll go out for drinks and dancing.
           This found us a few hours later at Phat Bites, on the eastern fringe of Nashville. Her friend from S. Africa was hosting the show, if I did not say, it is folk music. Thanks to all the minor chords, I was never great at following that, but they got the Reb up on stage for a half-hour. The food is well-prepared and I had the Wisconsin Butter, the closest to a cheeseburger they had. I forgot to mention, my annual cheeseburger is usually in Tennessee. We were the only couple that danced, that’s often a given. Her lady friend is an excellent guitarist who did the European circuit for years.
           In one corner of Phat Bites, beside the display of bomb squad armor, is an old church electric organ. Most played is the upper bank of keys and this unit was well-played indeed. The keys had worn to uneven heights and I spent ten minutes trying to get a decent picture. Nearby is the best I could do, there was no combination of light or angle that worked. If you look close, you can see the keys have almost a wave form to them. We left soon as the show ended.

Last Laugh