December 1, 2023

Yesteryear
One year ago today: December 1, 2022, three coffees helped.
Five years ago today: December 1, 2018, a ‘calendar’ post.
Nine years ago today: December 1, 2014, remember the Watley Review!
Random years ago today: December 1, 1981, yes, I used a typewriter.

           I’m truly anxious even though I know the Reb will ask for anything she needs. I crossed the Florida line before stopping for gas and coffee, then turned off I-10 south toward Perry. Normally, I’d stop somewhere with clean premises and at least shave, but I’m not in the mood for concern over looking pretty for the camera. There are several good Thrifts along Highway 19, I stopped three time to look for a cassette deck. I still have a couple dozen audio-tapes and the KIA has only a disk player. Anything to get my mind cleared from worry, and no luck. I did finish “A Long Lavender Look”, which the Reb wants for the same reason.

           Just so you know, this book was written long before audio-books, but it is full of the imagery you’d expect. What I mean by that is many audio-books are adaptations, they were not written with listening for descriptions. Does that make sense? When the plot is made for audio, there are usually many more phrases to a “listening” mode, you’d know it if you heard it. Mind you, there was radio, which although it was not broadcasting stories, would choose this sort of author if they did. It got me distracted enough to realize I had not eaten since y’day, and I took a special trip to Brooksville.

           That’s the location of the Florida Cracker Kitchen, one of the two “no beef” exceptions to my diet. This is the restaurant in the SE end on Highway 98, make sure you got the right one. Google is full of fakes and there are at least two other joints with extremely similar names. The authentic place, see picture, serves Angus burgers. And I don’t mind mentioning they hire great-looking young waitress-servers, I always find them sprightly. This is so rare in Florida any more, sigh. Take your time, the place is popular and when it’s busy, you may not even find parking.
           I was there nearly 45 minutes, it reminds me of restaurants in the days I left home, before the franchises crowded out all the mom & pops, so I like the atmosphere. When I walked in, sure I was unshaven, on the scruffy side, probably looked like I hadn’t slept, but they had a cup of coffee in front of me with in moments. It was the most carefree I’ve been in two weeks and that is why I stop there whenever I get anywhere near Brooksville.

           The remainder of today is time off, I can’t shake the comprehension of all this. The injuries are serious and I had to leave this morning before the help showed up. I would have like to just have a look, even though I know the Reb is totally capable of taking care of such things. I finished listening to the audio-book around an hour from my destination. It’s one of a series of adventures starring Travis McGee. It’s historically the kind of name that WWII era authors cooked up, the old “Call me Trav” angle. Everybody is a hero and they all suffer from having super-powers in the sex department. This is what sold in the 1960s. Today there are so many uglies out there they can’t give it way.

Picture of the day.
$100 per cup coffee beans.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           I got home around 2:00PM, dusty off the trail. Ker-pow, I was out for hours, flopped on the office bedroom mattress. It was a fitful time to siesta, I could not blank my worry about what if a second tragedy took place now. I vow to fix that situation soon. To get my mind off Tennessee is not easy, even though I know things are okay there now. The Prez reported in on last Wednesday’s jam. Let me focus on that, just for a while.

           He reports the jam session had two new appearances. Some guy with a well-worn Martin guitar. But he had trouble singing on key. Also, some gal who was the opposite, a great singer but a so-so guitarist. Remind me to ask him, when he finds situations like that, to write down anything they play that he likes or knows. I found my agony over Tennessee could not be dismissed, I napped until past 8:00PM, and decided to go downtown.

           Wilford was on duty. Like myself, his ear tends to tune out bad music. His recollection of the jam session was noteworthy to me. Like so many musicians, he does not know we’ve been conditioned (to think a “good” band sounds like the radio). He could not place the guitar player or the lady singer. He reports that the crowd was small but kept saying the music was good. Got that? The crowd liked the music that did not impress musicians. To me, what the audience likes is a huge untapped market. To me, the audience rules.
           They had a excellent guitarist in tonight who nobody was really listening to. The warm climate made my shoulders flexible so I hung around for a few , and observing the husband-hunting of the local women of a certain age, confirmed that I will always treasure the Reb. Did I tell you about that freaky old lady in the bar in Dothan? Yes, I did. Anyway, I took ten hours to make the drive from Dothan to Mulberry.
           I found a beauty of a radial arm saw in one Thrift but had to leave it. Another shop in Homosassa saw me slow down, but I was temn minutes before opening time and the lady was going to make me wait. Wrong, and she lost a cash customer. I found and excellent foot operated speed control for like $2 and this super lapel mic for another dollar. It’s likeable how these small town people don’t place any value on such things. Alas, I’m still working on getting the phone camera to behave reliably, so there may be a wait for good pictures, temporarily.

Last Laugh