November 16, 2024

Yesteryear
One year ago today: November 16, 2023, a special brand.
Five years ago today: November 16, 2019, old then, ancient now.
Nine years ago today: November 16, 2015, Trump is in.
Random years ago today: November 16, 2006, Hewlitt-Packard sucks.

           Good news, but I can't really share details. All the recent paperwork has produced results. It was concerning getting a mortgage at my age (past legal retirement) with no job, no credit history, no credit score. I know that banks often have programs for first time buyers, and pointed out that although the Reb & I are not in our twenties, she would qualify. They supplied a list of what they would accept as evidence of responsibility and my eyes watered when I saw how shallow their criteria was. Utility bills back one year, auto insurance, and rent paid. I have dated and recorded receipts dating back ten times that far, plus systematic savings, investments, and how most of my bills are paid cash in advance. They have tentatively pre-approved enough to buy a place if the market takes a dump. All indications are that it will not, but that's what they said in 2006.

           Doggie sneakers, ever bought any? Me neither,so read on. The Reb has a major recording session again this weekend, so I'm here in the cold at least that bit. (It's actually not that bad, I've just been spoiled by Florida.) With Sammy no longer with us, the decision is that Chooks should go to the studio with her. He is just not getting the needed attention from the company. If they walk him at all, it is ten minutes. With me it is minimum a half-hour. The studio rule is doggies are okay, but the clicking of their nails must be abated by paw coverings, in the form of sneakers.

           You are correct if you guessed not just any sneakers will do for His Highness. Shown are a set from Wal*Mart but that don't make the grade. Hence, the doggie's with me this weekend while a special set arrives from Amazon next Monday. Argh! Is this my destiny? If so, things could have been a lot worse, so cheer up. I ran the spreadsheets on buying a house and we could do it if there is a plunge, and we could pay it off in ten years maximum. With me charge, that would probably be six years since I can kick in an annual lump sum. But that's all speculation at this point, she was home long enough this morning to wake the pooch, which means I plunked down, fell asleep, and next thing it was noon. This is the blog that dares to feature a morning nap. I must have done something redeeming. Ah, yes, before dawn I made everyone grilled cheese sandwiches. The real kind with sharp cheddar, which is also a favorite of Chooksie.

Picture of the day.
Slums of Panama City.
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           The afternoon record of today was separately written, so expect repeat info. My actual birthday is a week ago and it is no coincidence that October is the end of my fiscal year. This makes it impossible to keep finances and such out of the way, not when I spend two or three hours a day mapping out the upcoming year. Also, the company downstairs has the anti-Trump channel blasting away. One of them claims it is because he's hard of hearing, but he likely thinks loud propaganda works better. Instead, it causes me to look up the other side whenever I hear something outlandish. Today it is mostly how Trump appointed some twenty-year Marine veteran (?) as Defense Secretary and how "unqualified" that makes him. They prefer, it seems, some man in a dress.

           With the Reb away 90% of the time, we finally did not celebrate my birthday until today. The way we had to blast through the moment was like some ancient married couple. She was on her way back to the studio and the Kaiser and I plan a one-hour stand-in at Rosies. You don't know this place, but it is in Woodbine, the part of Nashville I've known the longest. Rosie's is a dive bar but the brewskis are $4 bucks and they don't bother you. Don't underestimate the Kaiser because he plays guitar. The conversation tonight was about contacts downtown and who to approach, but also touched on topics like Jason Derek Brown, Egyptian grammar, pet histories, Grady Judd, the lack of good women, and the Moon waxing gibbous. Not many guitarists I've ever met can address half that spectrum in a year.

           Rosie's. It's a couple blocks from the donut shop the Reb & I met up back in 2017. It's not the local dive I remember and I did not recognize the stage, so call it a first. But there's already a standing joke, when the Kaiser sent he directions he typoed "Twin Kegs" ans "Twin Legs", so guess the club's new name? We were there a couple hours going over the downtown contact list, only to conclude the two or three successful operators now own three quarters of the downtown might spots.
           He confirms the barrier of playing downtown unless you show up with a full band ready to hit the ground running. This has, in my experience, become progressively harder as the Boomer musicians move into their seventies and eighties. It took me years to get a duo off the ground, which I attribute to older players being less willing to join start-ups, but results in most playing the same material.

           I got home hungry and the more so after walking the dog. I tend to let him walk wherever his schnozzle leads him, and blame any lack of discipline on others. I mean, who am I to tell the doggie what to sniff? It gave me extra time to think, including the ramifications of this recent mortgage qualification. I got back in to find the company still ragging over all the evil Trump is supposed to be up to. I fed the dog an exta helping and made sandwiches for all. I figure all that anti-Trump bellowing must work up an appetite. I would add there was no mustard in this place. It's primitive. Who recalls the time I moved out of the apartment above Olivers? We found, what was it, 50 or a 100 different brands of mustard in my place, and I don't particularly like the condiment.

Last Laugh