July 4, 2024

Yesteryear
One year ago today: July 4, 2023, quite the day.
Five years ago today: July 4, 2019, who besides me . . .
Nine years ago today: July 4, 2015, we learn fast.
Random years ago today: July 4, 2007, butchering my bass.

           It was a busy day, neither the Reb or I have a long history of July 4th as a holiday to make a lot noise. I got up early and cut the remainder of the lumber for the fence, it is now doggie proof. Work noise does not count. I did not check behind the bamboo and I have become quite the chigger-hater. I spend the cash to get special thick screws to hold the fence rails. Once those were driven in place, I got to the air-conditioned kitchen and make some gluten-free pancakes. (I find they have a ‘dusty’ flavor, like the dry rice the flour comes from) but others like them. Here’s a better view of the planter from last day. It is totally solid. We have an afternoon trip planned today, which in the end took us six hours, so we had time to visit.

           And the visit was overdue. I have a long-standing non-negotiable rule against lending anything to anybody whom I do not perceive as pulling their own weight. As you imagine, actors often fall into that category. I won’t elaborate, but that super applies to vehicles. Today’s trip was to give a lift to the son of a friend. I’m okay with that, but not so much all the libtard chatter that was involved. You can call it “self-medicating” but I call it shooting drugs. Leaving that, on the trip over a milestone.

           The Reb sets the car audio to many non-commercial stations. And while were driving, one of her songs came on the radio. That’s a first for me. It has been a long way getting here, I must say, if you can imagine such an event. The trip to Crossfield took much longer than the 110 miles showed on the GPS. We got out there and I had enough visiting in five minutes, so I took the dog for a long walk. And forgot baggies, so a half-mile from the house, we pass the only place with a lady sitting on her porch in this heat. The only house with a big “Keep Out” sign on the lawn.
           Now, there is a strip of lawn along the curb. So right in front of this lady old Chooksie decides to take a big steaming dump. Yes, I walked back to the house, got a baggie, walked back and picked up the doo-doo, and home again. At’s my boy.
           The Reb was not kidding, the Canon printer I bought her does not accept jobs. I went at it and it will not print. As usual, the millenninal help line is really no help. I'd suspect the computer, since the previous Canon printer had the identical problem. It connects, etc, but when issued a print job (which you can see in the print queue) it sits there. It's not so much that it sticks like this, but that after fifty years, Canon still builds printers that even can. No concept do they have of fail-safe. Where if everything else goes wrong, it will still print. And there is no real Canon help line, rather a site that requires a sign-up and your life history.

Picture of the day.
Patagonia’s newest national park.
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           Face it, gang. I had two choices. The doggie-doo or listen to the women complaining how they have to cook three meals a day. I guess for them, unlike for men, the food magically appears for free, so the only work involved is cooking it. The effect on the Reb & I was, back in the Volvo, the fact we had not eaten since the rice pancakes, and there is no place to stop (figuratively speaking) until you get back to Nashville. So we made a bee-line of the Sunshine Café. It’s veggie but they have the substitutes. It is the place, when in Nashville, to go for your $13 sandwich. (Technically, it is in Donelson.) Here’s you’re the veggie bratwurst specials.

           Dang, so we could talk, I left my phone on the charger. We had not planned on munchies, so I missed a chance to invite the Kaiser. He’s never met the Reb, but he’s jammed many a tune in her living room. The Reb likes to dine outside, I’m more for indoors after my experience with Florida dust and flies in the streets. I hate my Panasonic camera, it missed a whole minute of footage of the doggie up to antics. What can I say, after a series of recent developments, I may not have an allocation for a good camcorder until next year.

           I spent $15 to get three keys cut. All computerized, and none of them worked. I tried my skill at making it work, but I fear my own key is a copy of a copy. So here I am, convinced I’m the one who does most of the dishwashing around here, bitten by chiggers, and a victim of long-reach Tennessee tse-tse sleeping sickness. Then, the smallest doggie gets a poop problem. It took the two of us but we got him working again. I fear time is not long for the little guy, we have to consider his quality of life.

           [Author's note: most keys are designed to resist more than a 4th generation copy. Each generation will round the edges of the cut just a little more. You can easily see this just holding the key and looking. A new key will have almost sharp cut edges, in fact, you may have occasionally used such a key to cut open tape or packaging. But a copied key is smoother, you may have presumed it has just worn down with age, but few keys get used enough for that explanation.]

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