October 17, 2022

Yesteryear
One year ago today: October 17, 2021, a ton of rice.
Five years ago today: October 17, 2017, the Debs has since faded.
Nine years ago today: October 17, 2013, the JBG cult.
Random years ago today: October 17, 2011, on-line dating sucks.

           With the bass amp plugged in at rest, the Yeti battery drains just under 5 times the rate claimed in the advertising. Playing the bass nudges it up to around 5 times. This morning at 7:00AM the dial read 56.1 hours, at noon I have 31.4 hours on the display. That’s nearly 25 watt-hours used just sitting there doing basically nothing but plugged into a small Crate 8” speaker practice amp. Now I’m not complaining about the usage, but the misleading display. The display, if it is to be believed, should not change five times faster than what it originally read.

           We took the doggies for a long walk, I’ve got him careful about lunging at cats and squirrels, kind of an interesting process. The instinct is there, but he’ll halt and look back, that’s called getting his attention. If he can get used to the cats around here, he can learn to leave the outdoor ones alone. It’s a cold morning, we had to suit up to be out there just a half hour. I’m going to see about visiting an RV store to find if they sell a one-cup coffee maker. Otherwise, expect a slow morning unless I look at politics on the news feed.
           We got some shopping and dog-walking in but the cold weather arrived early, a real biting wind. This is the best photo I have of the event, showing us grabbing the dogs and bags just before a truly cold breeze came up. I do not like cold. I made us up a lunch of arepas (corn pancakes) in coconut oil and asked myself what I’m thinking, knowing since I was a kid I’m chancing leg cramps from this kind of chill. Fortunately, I have a two-week supply of coffee. The Reb is feeling better and wants to go out to dinner tomorrow. If that flies, I want to head back to the tropics next day or so, plus she’s right I should not be lifting fence panels myself. But where you gonna find any help these days?

           Okay, a little politics. The left has begun their traditional pre-election news releases, the lease effective are dunce announcement like the “poll” that shows Georgia people who believe in 2020 election fraud are “less like to vote” and lots of “it’s already over” type announcements. How about the announcements that inflation is not stopping people’s mad rush to shop from Amazon? I wonder who came up with that one. And A.I. being used to copy art portfolios, that’s exactly the kind of thing bad A.I. code is good at—now ask yourself why has not today’s A.I. come up with a popular new art brand0? Because it can’t, because it isn’t real A.I., and there’s your explanation.

Picture of the day.
Siglufjordur, Iceland.
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           It got a bit warmer on the sunny side so I was out there repairing the fence. Built in 1992, it has been sort of repaired once. The old nails were popping out. It’s the one panel leaned over by the tree that took hours. Loosening it, laying it down and using screws and clamps to re-align all the warped pieces, I finally got it to keep a shape. When removed, alas, the posts must have been under strain as they pulled apart just wider than the fence rails. I had to cut some extra pieces and scab them. It’s back together and not looking too bad. The post that’s bent by the tree roots is not an easy chore so I put plank against the vertical fence to fill in the gab, which about big-dog size.

           This worked up a lather, it was Montana warm by mid-afternoon. That’s where you fry on the sunny side and shiver on the shade. Plus the dogs underfoot and you know me, lock them inside or outside but none of this back and forth holding the door open for them to make up their minds, not that such a thing would ever happen around here. If you see a picture, fine. Right now I’m inside with a coffee and a dish of cashew chicken rice in the microwave, so expect nothing energetic. It was just over three hours work but heavy duty enough that I may be too whooped to even go out for a cold brew. You know, how we construction workers like a Bud after work. None of that Bud Lite snowflake stuff, either. Real beer.

           I finally got inside where it was warm and cozy and never did get out for that planned beer. I threw a fleece blanket over my shoulders, grabbed a book of 1909 quotations and fell asleep until long past dark. That would have been it but at 8:30PM came a loud crash. The dog. He could have knocked over anything, but he somehow managed to topple my bass. My beautiful Longhorn. Fortunately not damage. Except now I’m wide awake where before I was in deep dreamland, running through fields of daisies.

           When this happens, of course, you have to completely check out the bass for damages. First, lay down a little boogie and before long the Reb wants in. Nobody felt like going up the stairs for the guitar, so it was a two-hour piano and bass jam. As seen here, the doggies hear music every day so they have adapted to it as a fact of life. This is not a staged photo, the doggie got center stage by fluke. Too bad I can’t get you sound on this computer, we were playing a lot of the classics in this duo style. This is why I laugh inside when people wonder why I’m with the same woman after all this time.

           There’s method to what we played. She emulates guitar riffs on the keys, which I cannot do on my own. When I play guitar, I get around half-way through and revert to a beat. She’s important, because other guitar players won’t even try, I suppose they are afraid somebody else might be right even momentarily. Don’t I know how lucky I am to find a gal who will go along with just about anything if it has a fun element. I’m so weary of women who have to be prodded to do anything. Who’s with me on that one, show of hands? That’s what I thought.
           And I never did get that beer.

ADDENDUM
           Later, as around midnight, I guess I did overdo the work part of today. Enough to keep me awake and watching “Men of Honor”. It’s okay for an incredibly sappy portrayal of stereotypes. You expect so much but this movie goes beyond. Like I said many decades ago, those who think their suffering is unique don’t read very much.

Last Laugh