April 30, 2023

Yesteryear
One year ago today: April 30, 2022, this blog “outsells” Dr. Jill.
Five years ago today: April 30, 2018, lively false alarms.
Nine years ago today: April 30, 2014, Movie, $6.50.
Random years ago today: April 30, 1981, hand-written original.

           So, any news on the guitar player inquiry? Yes. She’s a senior (60+) with a background in keyboards. She did not say if she strummed, but that she was working with a guitarist who “said they needed a standup bass”. This is your sure signal of an idiot guitar player. There is a whole failed guitarist brain-fart mentality about standup bass. Anyway, I asked the lady to confirm she could strum guitar and the answer was not distinct.

          Soon as if becomes apparent the guitarist cannot deliver a decent accompaniment by himself, this is his first resort—add more people. There are a number of notions that take hold of the 99.5 IQ crowd, such as glass-blowing and chess playing. I suppose they figure such things makes them look or sound classy or smart. Another is jazz music and from that, standup bass follows. My ad does specify an acoustic guitar strummer.
           She sent a demo, she has a wonderful voice. It’s along the lines of Anne Murray, very smooth. I watched it, but if that is the guitar player, we’re already in trouble. He’s half as good as me on a bad day. Still, in Polk, beggars can’t be choosers.

           Cool and rainy, the birds will share the feeders under those conditions. We have a single female dove and that still unidentified mid-size birdie, keeping me company before dawn. I scanned a half-dozen of the 1999 taxi books to see what time frame would be needed to upload them as blog entries. Lots, that’s your answer. I don’t know what else to compare the amount of written material to, I really don’t know anyone else with the hobby of keeping records as a journal. I don’t remember the days, but that’s my writing and I sure recall the times.

           Just now there were three birds on the suet feeder, sharing. The once I really need my camera, it is not where I store it. Murphy was here. I found it out in the van, where I’m least likely to use it. And it’s food mention time. If you like biscuits and gravy, this is your day. Actually, it is more of a broth sauce made with gravy mix, to complement the biscuits, which have twice the recipe allotment of cheese. That’s real cheddar, not velveeta. Tampa says it is going up to 78°F today, so now’s the time for coffee while the yard is drying out. As ever, another squirrel has moved into the yard, soon as the last one got deported.
           What’s this, writers and authors seeking limits on A.I.? That merely reveals how far the standards in those fields have sunk. Ain’t no A.I. can touch this blog. It’s too unpredictable in the long run, because it is real life. In another nail in the free information sharing of the Internet, Twitter may begin charging a fee per article for non-subscribers. To me this represents how American greed can destroy a good concept. The purpose of the Internet was not to become an advertising giant. It was to share information. Nobody said the information was free, but the sharing part was supposed to be. Yes, there is a contradiction there, but I’ll say it again. If you don’t want it copied, don’t post it on-line.

           Her voice reminded me of Mary Hopkin, who I recall from the 70s or so. Billed as “discovered” by the Beatles, I was dumbstricken when I saw her video of “Goodbye”. She was the first singer I realized had never worked BY COMPARISON a lick in her life to sing, yet here she was making a recording that ensured she would never toil at a job a day in her life. Not that good looking, fake blonde, slightly pudgy (she always recorded sitting down), and bad teeth. I liked her music but could not set right in my mind how unequally things were dealt in this life. I have nothing against her, she was just the one I remember as teaching me how unfair the odds in the music arena.
           That was a lesson shared by Melanie, remember her? She was the rage the years just before I entered college. Her voice had a sharp edge, from her opera-singing mother, I imagine. So, here was another gal with that mystery combination of talent and luck, who if you talked to them would swear what a long hard struggle it was. Yet, you know, we had women working alongside me at the sawmills in Idaho, but none of them were Melanies. (Didn’t she die recently?) Funny how a random lady vocalist fifty years later ramps up these memories.

           The squirrels have gotten in the silo again, and I found the new egress. It’s ladder work but that is getting fixed today. I bet you can’t wait to see the video, if any. It’s twelve feet up in the air and I’m not in the mood for exercise. I should have gone out last night, I stayed home and read history books.
           There’s possibly a third solo red cardinal at the feeder. He seems younger than the other pair, but I’m not the expert. He is so spoiled that he will got to the large feeder and dig through the mix, picking out the black oil sunflowers. The other birds don’t mind as the ground is soon covered with seeds. He knows you wanted to see this picture.

Picture of the day.
Antibes, French town.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           It’s always something around here, if you have not noticed. You know that case of Yueng-Ling in the fridge? No more. I got out there early enough and things moved slow enough. Worst, a rat got in the silo. Rats leave a smell. That does it, I combed the place until I found the portal. It was a tiny gap where the siding met the roof. At this point, as luck would have it, the hillbilly showed up. I put him to work immediately. You see, work around here is often disguises as just “holding the other end of the board”. We drank a lot of beer, got a lot done. I’ll describe.

           As I’ve mentioned, the guy responds well to instruction, so I had him cut (chop-saw) a series of planks from the old playhouse. This allowed that rather than look for the rat-hole, the entire seam of the silo was planked up. Next, I showed what I expected about planing lumber and using biscuit joints. This required half the case of Yueng-Ling, but there was progress. Then I got him schlumping the shingles up on the laundry canopy. This work is borderline painful. I got him to line the entire canopy with a row of what I had, see photo. He hated those metal-flanged nails until he tried them. Told ya.

           He’s applied for a job at the mill on the south end, I don’t know much about the place. They make those reinforced concrete pipes, not the sort of work that appeals to me. I heard they pay $20 per hour. That’s something I like to compare, as in when was the last time I made $20 per hours. Would have been in the early 90s. Depending on that, if he gets over here on Tuesday, I’ll pay to have the yard raked and some fence posts set. He knows all the neighbors so keep him working or they’ll talk the good old days.

           Turns out he was very trainable on a chop saw. You must mark the cuts super-nice but he will come back with a piece that fits. Due to this collaboration, the north of that silo has prettier corners than the south. I showed him the trick to gluing up panels and how to use the joiner. I have no doubt we could manufacture six saw ponies per hour if the situation came about. Meanwhile I need that long work bench in the shade. Everything indoor quickly fill up and even the hillbilly commented what a nice work area the shade makes. Why waste it?

           Late in the day, we piled in the van and drove to Kooter’s. This was an interests study in contrasting styles. He hits on every woman he can and gets nothing. I hit on no woman and have to turn them away. The new gal there is a total cutie who knows me by now. Like my brothers, the hillbilly never did catch on the right way to have all the women you want (careful, I did not say any specific woman you want).
           Like most guys, that is one department he does not learn by example, trusting his instinct will get him anywhere. He’s cracking jokes about prostitutes that neither the gal or I get. Anyway, she finally sidles up to me and tells him that no, I’ve never come on to her and that’s why I get all the favored treatment. It was a bloggable event. Check back on Tuesday after I get some work lined up.

           The last photo shows the trim on the shed corner. Too bad that one spot used up the best lumber I had for the chore—the floorboards from the old tree house next door. Looks nice though, this is the side of the shed facing the street. I put it up last so I’d have some experience with the pallet slats for siding. Looks good. Another blogworthy event was the birdies. I get used to their behavior and make no attempt to domesticate them. In fact, I encourage wild behavior and even give them a whistle warning before I walk past.
           He is astounded by how tame they’ve become and I never noticed. I’d gotten used to them, plus he commented on the number of birds. We have around ten regulars, which he finds surprising. That single female of unknown type likes the suet feeder. Expect a picture soon as she holds steady long enough.

Last Laugh