One year ago today: October 28, 2024, half-full already.
Five years ago today: October 28, 2020, blustery enough.
Nine years ago today: October 28, 2016, many prefer missing.
Random years ago today: October 28, 2006, some just smile.
None of the doors in the house swing shut by themselves any more. Told you, that floor is now level. From the blog that dares, here’s a pot of boiling potatoes. Will I find the bounce to work on the floor today? Just that part where the stove needs to go. It’s kind of close to the door but it makes the window useable again. Who puts a window behind the stove? I know. This cabin in the 1940s did not have a stove. There you go. I am also rigging up a radio in the kitchen despite there being no good stations left. It says here I had to mention food. We never discovered why that works so well in a blog. Do people read more when they are hungry?
Checking for any eBay orders, I discover some lady has published my secret gravy recipe on-line. Exactly. It’s chicken gravy but I don’t much put it on chicken. More like on spuds and it does go well with boiled carrots. The “secret” ingredients are an extra half tablespoon of garlic powder and a quarter teaspoon of nutmeg. No, I’m not publishing the recipe and I do not know this lady. But maybe she’s been spying on me, y’think? All she has to do now is peek through the kitchen window.
And that aroma this morning is the spuds boiling with bay leaf. I never could cook a small batch, it is five potatoes minimum for me. Now, since I am seeking to be distracted for a few days, I tuned in to a Tampa talk show, the kind that attracts the worst callers. Today the topic was again leftover women crying that there must be something wrong with men—they just do not recognized top quality when they see it. Now, before I say anything, these women are all top-quality, real prizes, and that goes without saying. No skanks or mouth-breathers in that lot.
After not much time listening, I felt it is my duty to instruct these women on how to find a good husband—which seems to be defined as one who has money and can be controlled. If I was a talentless run-of-the-mill female, how would I go about attaining that lofty goal? First, I would start at age 16, not 36. Here, gals, is the formula to get most of what you want. Locate a lounge or club (not a bar) near to a law school. The one with all sports cars in the parking lot, that’s it. Don’t worry if you’re underage, there is always one that will serve you.
Find out what time courses end on a Friday, usually 3:30PM. Put on your sexiest outfit and sit alone at the far end bar. No, not with your girlfriends at a table. Don’t worry, the bartender will protect you. Now here is the tricky part. You WILL say no to the first ten that approach you—no matter what they say or do or what your hormones say. Those are the pickup artists and you want the gold. Invent the story your puppy died or something. This establishes that you are not easy. Trust me, word has already gotten around that you have “class”.
How will you know when the right one approaches you? That sucker for life, that even if you fail, you’ll still get half his stuff? Don’t worry, you will just know. It’s in your DNA. You can fiddle with this equation, but the usual change is how age moves you from law school targets in your teens, to medical schools in your twenties. Then it is progressively downhill to vet colleges, then airport lounges, accounting firms, and, as a last resort, where any IT types hang out. True, IT types are born AOLs, but so are you. and they get paid well.
There, I said it and I feel much better now.
Oh, and guys, a word to the wise. You get what you inspect, not what you expect.
Town Topic, Inc., Kansas City.
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What’s all the moaning about—America would love to see the people who “invested” in Section 8 housing all lose their money. Such behavior was endorsing a welfare state. Okay, let’s catch up since the weekend, when my world was upside down. My heart was set on a Sunday drive, instead I went visiting, just the pull into the driveway and chat style. Howie saw the floor pics and told me how his father had wanted to fix it also, but the fat lady would not move and her family would not come get her. His taxes also went up and he’s now been retired one year.
Needing a 1” dowel for Tonio’s tool box, I strolled past these fence panels, the ones that cost $27 when I moved here. Let me count, I know own around 25 of these, ha-ha. The price difference is whether you want the narrow or wide pickets. The 5-foot dowel was $6, I picked up a ceramic tile for 57ȼ to see if the laser will etch it as claimed. The check engine light in the KIA winked on, the computer says it is a leaking or loose gas cap. The printout says EVAP system leak. There you have it, they now have a sensor on your gas cap.
My guitar player is finally in contact for a rehearsal later this week. His job schedule seems to conflict with regular practice and that is one of hundred automatic no-go problems of band work. Even if the goal is not rehearsal, there should still be times to jam and review material. Making certain everybody is playing the same thing is more important in my bands than some I’ve bothered with. Worst at the guitar players who think that is somebody else’s job. You know who you are. Stevie gets a lot of leeway because he’s still new at this.
Knowing that most guitar players won’t learn a tune they don’t especially like, my decision is that it is easier to learn whatever Stevie wants knowing he’ll quickly spot the difference a gooc bass backing makes. I have time, this has been the deadest summer, musically, since I arrived in Florida. That’s all around, even clubs that normally book are cutting corners these days. That, and I’ve heard all the regular groups so often I won’t drive to Winter Haven just to see them any more.
The news from Tennessee stays the same, everything is a holding pattern. The condo in France is still listed for sale, the local agent says maybe December. But I don’t count on any of that because I have no direct say. What I can say is I could have warned them that real estate is not the cash cow they think—unless you are born into properties. We know there are more real estate millionaires than all other kinds, but don’t tell me they started with nothing. Because evern if they did, you will not convince me anyone could do it that easily.
Last for now, the Reb (and this is why she’s a doll) likes to see the progress I make with boxes. There is no hint of that feigned interest some women affect to prove something. The things the Reb asks can only result of a genuine thinking and interest. Here is a clip of burning the “Valdosta” label, return tomorrow if you want to see it. The Reb asked, correctly, why this operation had to be so closely watched. That is a quality so hard to find. We talked a while, the general conclusion is we have to financially behave until there is a change in the situation. At least we have worked super-hard to make sure that change is positive.
Festus was an immense help keeping me distracted. It was an episode with no gunfights, but reminded me of the hicks and hillbillies I grew up with. Newly takes Doc’s rounds and almost gets hung for trying to save an old man. First I knew that Newly, a gunsmith, had done any medical studies but it sure livened up the roll he had to play.
ADDENDUM
News goes in cycles and we are now getting another relay of blah-blah success stories. I’m put off by their claims to start from nothing, as much by the eye-watering resources they actually had as much as how little they did with it. I don’t consider starting from nothing to include being 6-foot-4 and moonlighting as a bouncer at age 15. Same goes for the baseball card story. Where did the $300 come from, who supplied the safe and dry place to keep all this? I’m not jealous, I simply would like to see a real example of somebody who started with nothing, because that represents more than the plain success these others claim. It just is not a big thing to me if people succeed when all the odds are in their favor and their major chore is just getting off their arses.
