One year ago today: February 22, 2024, a railroad museum.
Five years ago today: February 22, 2020, through the mountains.
Nine years ago today: February 22, 2016, sometimes for years.
Random years ago today: February 22, 2022, double-dipped!
Today marked a turning point, I finally made a decision I would have rather not done. See the addendum, because this blog went on on-line to document my retirement process Needing that trailer hitch soon, I finally followed the Texas guy’s directions to the service road at the Flea Market. I could not find it before and this time I was so certain, I walked in to neighboring businesses to ask. Finally, after my third stop, this Chinese mechanic pointed at the place. Yes, it is the service road, but the one across the street—and that street happens to be Highway 92. Isn’t it odd the little gems that people forget to mention.
This meant a long drive along the divided road to a u-turn, doubling back and finding the place is closed on weekends. The sign says they sell trailers. Our latest varmint, a male rat, got an expense-paid van trip to the bone orchard as I snapped in a new audiobook about a farm girl from Texas in 1921. Elsinore is 25 years old and not pretty, at six-foot tall, and recovered from rheumatism. Disk one is just started and already she has taken up with the neighbor’s 18-year-old son and got herself pregnant after three one-minute episodes.
However, this is interesting, as there were still tons of people around with the same 1920 attitude sixty years later when I encountered it. By then I knew most teens had received bogus sex education and the so-called “morality” was Victorian social engineering. You got a girl pregnant, you were forced to marry her for better or for worse, and trust me, it was mostly the latter. To me at the time it was laughable, as the 1960s had upturned all such nonsense except for those who could not get any. (I suspect most rectitude stems from men who can’t get any.)
I was old enough to figure out it was a new freedom, a combination of the pill, the availability of automobiles, and a rejection of the mentality that resulted in two world wars. I also knew that freedom would be used in two separate ways by the winners and the losers of the dating game. If there was a fortunate era to be a teen, that was it. I wonder what I might have done if I’d been in California instead of nowhere.
Finally, I found the source of the wonderful magnolia-like aroma, when that flower is not present in this neighborhood. It’s that hedge that Agt. R called Mexican heather. This was not obvious for one big reason—this is the first time the tree has grown visible flowers, which is why I walked over there. Small flowers, but aromatic indeed.
Iwo Jima today.
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A second CD also was renewed at the higher rate. Hmmm, I guess I could have insisted on the money when my transmission went but now I’m glad I didn’t know it. Another extra $25 had me over to Harbor Frieght to buy a come-along, which these days they call a winch puller. Sure, okay. This one is light duty, hopefully enough to straighten my fence without digging up the posts. If I forgot to say, I caught the second of the pair of rats this morning. They are suckers for leftover crusts of anything. Here is some more deer camera footage, but they are hard to see. Look for their shiny eyes, they can definitely sense when the camera is lit. Remind me to patch that corner of the siding on the laundry deck. There’s no portal I can see, but that seems to be a popular corner, which says seal it off anyway.
What concerns me is there is a big fat possum critter. I don’t think it is living under the house, but it is taking refuge there and it is cool there on broiling days. Either way, I don’t like the that near. This is the result of my north side being the closest this neighborhood has to a forest habitat. I’m getting better at placing the camera, now to see how the squirrels behave when I’m not around. My hope is that there are only two as I’ve long since lost track of the generations. Editing the footage takes time, so be patient.
Let’s scan the news. Yep, all Trump again, he has altered the political landscape permanently. RFK has cancelled the seasonal flu campaign, saving the taxpayer nearly $100 million. Musk has sent out an email asking Federal employees what they did last week, and failure to reply is taken as resignation. Ha, we love it. No more arguing this sort of point on company time, so to speak. Enough people have noticed Trump’s replacement of key top military staff to stoke rumors they were planning a coup. (That’s seems nonsense as there is no popular support for such an act, either in the military or the people. Trump’s approval ratings are 81% according to some polls.)
Here’s one, and I am not taking sides on this, just posting what I think are the most humorous, or clever, or impactful replies. These are in response to a black lady saying White people would take a dog over a refugee. My position on that is simple—why are all the refugees running to Whites? Anyway, here’s the list and my opinion is NOT on it. Enjoy, I think
a) Dogs don’t shit where they sleep.ADDENDUM
b) Same goes for a pet rock.
c) Dogs are loyal.
d) Dogs don’t murder, steal, or traffic other dogs.
e) I would choose a cat and I hate fkg cats.
f) At least the dog is thankful.
g) Whites choose a dog over most people in general.
h) Dogs can be housebroken and taught manners.
i) White people are smart.
j) The dogs are invited.
k) Which one is more trustworthy?
l) Yep, and that is your own fault.
m) That’s not true at all, I like Elon just fine.
n) Dogs choose White people over refugees, you know.
o) Dogs don’t rape women and murder children.
p) There is not a single refugee in America any more.
q) The dogs are supposed to be here.
What’s the landmark of today? For the first time, I stopped and went home because I’m old. Yes, I’ve taken time off, but there was always some cause. A hard day’s night, a long afternoon, or just long hours. I knew this would happen, that is, a time when I had things to do and I just stopped. If I should be happy because everybody around me did that ten years earlier, I’m hardly thrilled. I pulled up to Wal*mart needing a few things and said to myself, “Do I want to walk in there, or do I want to go home, eat some porridge, and drink coffee?”
And the porridge won. I was not hungry, but that was one good snack. And I had a bag of salted peanuts on top of the fridge. It’s some kind of turning point in my life, I can feel it. I’ve been sitting here an hour doing nothing much, but around here that is not to be confused with sitting around doing FA. I checked the fence for which posts need the most attention and threw in a load of laundry while I was out there.
There is something else I’m now experiencing. Ageism, I believe is the term. I now look old and there is a definite bad attitude that works both ways. For me it is indirect because as soon as I talk or act, that mood disappears. But it is there and it’s a pattern that will get worse. I think I know at least most of what sets it off. Young people get used to old people being one-trick ponies. I dislike of people like that myself. Nobody wants to deal with crotchety old folks bypassed by progress.
I’ve watched others on the receiving end of this and now realize it is beginning to happen to me. It usually appears with people being too abrupt, as when you ask a question, they presume you have no background on the topic and don’t want to get roped into bringing you along. It is a definite trend, which I may decide to document as it progresses. For the record, I have always eaten porridge as a snack since I was a kid.
