June 18, 2026

Yesteryear
One year ago today: June 18, 2025, there’s always Muxia.
Five years ago today: June 18, 2021, everything except viruses.
Nine years ago today: June 18, 2017, the $177 vacation.
Random years ago today: June 18, 2001, it wasn’t working.

           Day 141 and I awoke feeling right, which pretty much means feeling normal these days. Not at all wasted from y’day, which seemed like a bland stretch of moving some wood. For me, it was a milestone, so there. The raccoon gets more pie crust and the birdies can shower all day, it will be another broiler. And I intend to get the most of it. We got us some fresh wood and an early start on breakfast: sausage sandwiches and coffee. I looked at box designs a bit on-line, but nothing we have not seen or built here already. To set the pace for today, here is a dandy scene of lichen growing on my mailbox.

           Kerpow! The crew across the way dropped something heavy enough to wake the neighborhood, so let’s begin by playing some bass—the new guy’s song list even if he doesn’t pan out. He’s good enough, but not equipped with the non-music gear to get underway. You cannot play in a serious band around here without a reliable all-weather vehicle. I picked up my bass and fell into a two minute sneezing fit. I better not be allergic to my axe, I’ll check for ticks.

           I got into playing and looked up. It is already 10:30AM. Now that is a good start. Let’s go make some sawdust. I do not have a lot for you these days, I’m very aware of that. These are not thrilling days for me either, but I just talked to the guitar player on the phone. He does keep in touch and has almost enough motivation, but as mentioned, he’s older than he admits. There is another element keeping him in good stead—he has successfully started bands before. This is a vague distinction. My clues are a subtle difference between “He doesn’t complain about the right things”, and “He complains about the wrong things.”
           This is why folks like the Hippie have plenty of band-forming effort, but none of it long-term successful, yet the same could be said about myself. However, I’ve had regular-playing bands that lasted years. I was with the Hippie close to eight years, but not one played regular enough to make the game worth the candle. They each seem to be good at one thing only, and even that means only good by Florida standards.

           One of my favorite tools, this oscillating saw, quit on me. It is marked 2023 and has been properly stored. I removed an access cover and checked, the carbons are good. I’ll have a go at it, I have another but where is it stored? See, if it was in a wooden box, I’d find it right away.
           Later, I had the saw apart on the bench, it seems to be the off-on switch. It is the old style motor with springy commutator carbons, which I flipped around. I may cut the entire plastic switch assembly out and hard-wire this one. You know those hand-help electric probes that trace wires that are hot? I sometimes power down my phone overnight. Well, just now I set the probe down next to the supposedly dormant phone . . . .

           To keep up this hectic pace, ha-ha, I also noticed and want the screws in the wooden bed parts which are very high quality, I’ll grab what I can. I’m feeling my old self for the first time this year, it will be a fun day. I’ll even leave the air conditioner on all day. Thrillsville. Nope. The trash man is always late until the time you want him to be. The lumber was gone by sunup. Straight to the shed, I put a couple small boxes together from the slats, they’re okay. I’m spoiled I now wanting a wooden box for everything. And today I tried some ebony stain. Too dark for etching, but one it dries it is not back at all. I have a wasp nest in the lean-to that’s taking forever, which is good as my can of spray went dead on me and I’ve forgotten every damn time I was downtown.
           Nearing noon and 94°F at 61% humidity, not as bad as y’day, but don’t go out there unless you know what you are doing. Trust me, you probably don’t. There’s been a heat warning since 11:00AM and enough cloud blowing past that it is not going to rain. Fry, people, fry. Here’s some views of the boxes I tried.Oops, no pictures. But you can search high and low and not find another blog that dares to feature both lichen and tool repair.

Picture of the day.
Seven-in-a-row Bingo.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           Inside for a break, I grabbed the news. Trump has warned States to clean up their leaky unemployment programs or get cut off. The housing market has stalled, I have not got a single hit on my search profile for months. I threw this small box together using the half-size jig to see and was not impressed. The wood is very brittle and chips easily. This “pencil box” is about all it is good for until we think of something. I was more interested in the bigger slats and once more, used the half jig. There is a method to that, for example the half jig makes a box out of 24” board.

           These sessions are no longer therapy, but regular activity again. I sometimes reminisce, sine I was almost reduced to only that, and to day I was reminded of a boy scout trip. I told you about that one, the eight slices of cherry pie. One part I likely never said was what I learned that day because I got in trouble over it. There were eight of us in the troop, all rich kids except me.

           The troop stopped for pie before the long trip home and you are asking how that spelled trouble. I was also the only scout who had a job, a paper route. I saw nothing wrong with spending the money I earned myself without asking permission. I learned that day none of the rich kids had any money on them and were totally reliant on being told what to do when they did. It did not take long before the gossip mill swung into action—that I knew how to read a menu and order food off it without adult supervision. Whoa, did I have some explaining to do. It was as bad as the time I thoughtlessly put vinegar on my fries. What a radical I was.

           At first I didn’t care for the ebony stain. Here is a generic box from the slat wood, the idea was to test some poly on this. But a late afternoon siesta put me out until 8:00PM, good news if this means the end of my hospital sleep cycle. The guitar player called, saying the weekend is open, but again I dislike slating anything on potential gig days. Hey, unlike the Hippie, at least tis new guy is aware other people have lives and schedules. Maybe the Hippie knew but could not imagine anybody else’s priorities rivaling his own.

           Seeking to replace my Tailgater bass amp, I found a new generation of absolute crap that typifies the mess of the Internet these days I want something I can recharge and play for 5 or six hours, like my present unit did when new. The millennials have put in considerable resources to obfuscate the lines between portable, battery, cordless, rechargeable, and a new contender, the power bank. This is in addition to their scumbag tactic of listing the weight without the bulky wal wart, although admittedly they kind of inherited that one.
           Ad after ad, each one crafted to hide or disguise the shortcoming. We are talking truly expensive presentations with professional models, often purposely posing in front of the exact panel they know you want to see. Equally disturbing is how the already-suspect user reviews now follow suit. These amateurs are real scumbags when it comes to respecting search criteria. I specified cordless rechargeable to no avail. Remember that AUX jack where you could plug in any “headphone” jack and play along? Well, it is now called the OTG port by these genius-inspired GenX types. It requires you hunt around for a USB-C cable and you are supposed to know it means “on-the-go”. Millennial America does not just demand you be stupid, but to fit in, you must be the same stupid as everybody else.

ADDENDUM
           For the first time in US history, a pound of beef sells for more than Federal hourly minimum wage ($7.25/hr). Bezos, the millionaire who bought the Washington Post, has fired 300 people. He says they won’t listen. Employees at his other companies listen. While half of US adults use ChatBot, less than 1/6 think A.I. will bring any benefit. A “migrant” threw a 3-year-old White child into an alligator pit in England. The zoo owner’s wife jumped in and saved him. How much longer, England? The antifa thugs who poured toxic algae into the Reflecting Pool could get 20 years.

Last Laugh