May 3, 2023

Yesteryear
One year ago today: May 3, 2022, the KIA cruise control.
Five years ago today: May 3, 2018, I miss the coffeeshop.
Nine years ago today: May 3, 2014, I’d leave a tip.
Random years ago today: May 3, 2004, at work, I guess.

           I forgive Caltier on their late statements, but not so much on the poor performance last month. There is a difference in averages if incomes are higher at the beginning that the long run—and Caltier is as keen on averages as I am. Every important column in my private budget contains this statistic and compares it to historical rates. At least Caltier did not blame the latest COVID fiction, the Arcturus variant. TMOR, regardless what you may see in the news, probably less than 1% of Americans will participate in this round. And they will be the weakest specimens indeed.

           Now we have a fencepost crisis. I need enough to fix the north fence and everybody is sold out. I did a search for the brand I want and one of the answers was “Devon”, a small area I rented a room when I was in my late teens in college. For old time’s sake, I clicked on the map to discover I don’t know or recognize a single thing about the town or anybody I knew there. That includes zooming out and not a one placename in the entire area jogged a memory cell. I inadvertantly clicked on the banner to leave and this photo popped.

           Would you look at that? Judging by the cars, this is downtown Smokey, some 15 years before I was born. The building circled is the first place I was ever on stage. It’s the “English” church and I was the choir leader. (This is not the same church where I had been in the choir two years earlier, that was in a different town.) But this was the first show that was mine. I also recognize the scout hall, the Chinaman’s house, and that garage in the front was burned down for the insurance when I was nine. Nobody knew this was the last generation we would ever have a real America.
           You bet I took an hour off and explored the site. There was a video of Main Street. I was able to pick out a few places, like the local hotel which still has the same “For Sale” sign when I last saw it in 1979. They finally built a new access road so you didn’t have to drive a half mile past town to turn in. The only buildings still operating were the banks, pharmacies, and the post office. The park is still there, a small vacant lot the local druggist bought to keep it out of the clutches of the town, a corrupt and sordid bunch of ghouls if there ever was.

           The old doctor’s residence is now a clinic. All the traditional businesses like the Mercantile and hardware stores have been taken over by Dollar Tree and the like. It reminded me of my motorcycle trips across America. Where you see somany downtowns with long-standing vacant lots as the population dwindles. Myself, I think I’ll build another box today. I’m in that mood, it lets me think a lot. A box for my copper fittings, which right now are wherever I left them.
           Because of this hour spent looking, I’m tempted to take a video of just driving around downtown in this city. I notice so few town websites feature something like this. Just the scenery with a camera on the dash showing a real view of the times.
           Later, I totally miffed the squirrels. I must have found the breach and sealed it. This round goes to me, as they scamper endlessly around the perimeter with finding a way in. Then sitting on a branch and scolding me like entitled millennial brats. This isn’t as silly as it sounds, the ethnics in San Francisco are complaining that all the White stores are closing and they have to commute to do their looting.

           This photo is tricky to interpret, buy it shows the efforts of a squirrel to get into the silo. It’s location along the eave gives away that was how they were managing. Unlike birds, squirrels are not good at always having alternate food sources. Cut them off and squirrels get hungry. That’s what you see here, damage done in amere 30 hours since the trim was fixed in place. Non-stop gnawing. The right side of this shows the [newly placed] metal flashing.
           As seen, it covers only half the hole, but tomorrow I finish the job. The hillbilly was up the ladder for this, but I needed him on the ground for that fence repair. Keep reading. And don’t forget to curse the xyzer who put peanut butter in plastic jars.

Picture of the day.
Stillwater, Minnesota.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           Some minor shopping and the hillbilly shows up. I’ll let you compare this view of the north fence against what went before. Here is a great view that compares the old fence and new. It isn’t evident, but the old section is rotting and is propped up. Around half the pickets were unsalvageable. Those that are can be seen recycled as a solid fence which will soon be part of a “back wall”. You see, under the trees in this spot is the best working space in the yard. Plus, located by the laundry deck and silo, everything is handy except any cutting and milling. Since we’ve worked as a team before, all the work see here was done in less than two hours.

           For those who remember, yes, JZ is missing out on all these projects. I consider it vital for a true handyman to have this type of experience. You don’t get the right kind helping out at your brother’s condo. JZ and I were supposed to be expert house renovators by now. Now the hillbilly knows how to get all this done with the correct tools. Alas, he will never be a great contractor as you have to be there to keep him working. Unlike JZ, you can’t just tell him to go put in a set of fence posts.

           Which is what this next picture shows. This is the supports for a canopy to cover the air compressor and, when I get to it, the shop vacuum. It’s a busy photo, so let go over it. Starting at the upper left is the chicken coop. Below it is the greenish-blue sawdust collection bucket right next to the bright orange vortex cone. Then you see the line of three fence posts with diagonal bracing. The poles are hillbilly work, the bracing I had to be there. I was in the shed for two minutes and he’d dug that center post hole in the wrong place. Anyway, this forms the outer edge of a cover for the compressor that just seen along the fence on the right, then the wall of the work shed.

ADDENDUM
           This tale from the trailer court is total human interest. It’s a commentary on JZ missing out on what I consider a fantastically important faction of his life. I’m not singling JZ out, I’ve seen this how many times, people that don’t realize some things cannot be gotten back to later. I’ll describe the events and see if you can make sense of my logic. Okay, by late afternoon, the hillbilly and I, knowing how we construction workers like our after-work beer, head over to Kooter’s again. I know if JZ was here, he’d find a nice, decent gal, whereas the hillbilly at half our age is after every gal that leans over the pool table. Follow the logic here.

           For unknown reasons, JZ and the hillbilliy, for instance, never find themselves in this manner of situation on their own. But they always do when I’m around. That is the principle in operation here. The cutie behind the bar begins to damp mop the floor, but the mop is broken. It comes apart every few swishes. Then in walks that robot guy who’s hardly ever mopped a floor in his life, and his sidekick. Says he can fix it and sits down. The guy does not look at the mop and says he’ll fix it. You see where this is going? The robot guy knows grabbing the mop is not the answer.

           The hillbilly, now hitting on the barmaid (ooooh, she’s a nice one), starts fiddling with the mop, while the robot guy is over at the table, sipping a cold brew. Finally he asks a single question, has anybody else tried to fix this mop? Yes, turns out the whole staff has had a go at it. In that case, says the robot guy, he can now guarantee he can fix it, and continues to sit there. Now you really see where this is going, ha! The rest of the staff fixed it, did they?
           Okay, hilllbilly, show me the problem. Those little prongs don’t grip the mop, see photo. They keep letting loose. Ah, it’s the clamping mechanism. Examination shows there is a small plastic lever on the crosspiece. I noticed when operated, you could see the printing on the plastic. Hmmm, most curious, and most people would write that off as more advertising. I figure the manufacturer wants to you see their log when the clip is closed, not open.

           Ergo, the clip must have fell off and somebody snapped it back into the assemblage upside down. And it fit perfectly, meaning nobody suspected a thing. Using a handy robot tool, the piece is gently repaired, whereupon it was instantly obvious that was the solution. Is this the end of the story? No, I told ya this was not the point. What happened next is the staff set us up with ice buckets of beer so we sat around for an hour and a half drinking for free. These things never happen to JZ on his own, he just does not have the knack for it. And he’d easily make friends with that bar maid, who is way close to the right age for him.
           Instead, she gets attention from the hillbilly, who does not stand a chance. Especially the way he brags that he once poinked his roomie’s 70 year old mother. The sort of info I would tend to keep secret. I’m happy to just note the crowd reaction when I walk into a place where I’m known. That’s a crowd that knows to keep a distance when I appear to be just sitting there, and you know, I like it like that.

Last Laugh