Wednesday, April 5, 2023



Whoopi-ti -yi-yo!  The mulch was delivered yesterday morning.  It's time to get with my pitchfork and wheelbarrow and start to work.  Past time.  I most often wake up before dawn.  I woke up at a little past eight today.  Bad start.  It is going to be in the nineties today.  I wanted to get going earlier, but fate had other plans.  I might not begin until near ten.  Stupid.  I want to prove again that I can get this done in a single day, but I have my doubts this year.  It is no matter except for pride.  Doing it over two days means nothing.  

I did more fence work yesterday.  I painted Kilz on the fence facing the street.  Small panel, but it took an hour.  I was proud, however, that I had the moxie to start just when I got back from a gym workout.  

"Don't be a baby, man. . . get the paintbrush and do some work."

So I did.  It still needs to be painted, but it already looks better.  I have hours of fence painting left to do.  And I still have painting on the stairs.  Then I can begin the next project.  That is how interesting my life is.  Deliriously fascinating.  

When I finished painting, I made a leftover lunch and had a Dale's Pale Ale.  I thought to take a nap, but it was a short one.  Showered, I went to the store and bought vegetables.  A big variety.  And some tofu.  I would grill vegetables and tofu for dinner.  

The yardmen had come.  The maids, too.  Everything was in good order.  I messed the kitchen up, of course, with my dinner prep.  Cut vegetables in a big bowl where I slathered them in olive oil, then onto the sheet pan where I salted, peppered, and red peppered them.  Brown jasmine rice in the cooker.  A big glass of New Zealand Sav Blanc and a cheroot.  

As I was cooking, smoking, drinking, and thinking, the tenant was coming down the street from her walk. She lifted the grill cover.  She looked at me with bright eyes.  Yea, yea, yea. . . you can have some.  I had a dinner companion on the deck for the evening.  It's ok not to eat alone.  It is healthier, they say.  I always have half the equation--eating al fresco--but al fresco plus company will lengthen your life studies say.  She's a Ph.D. who has co-authored two books on film, so went the bulk of our conversation.  I had just watched Brando (the actor, not the shyster) in "The Fugitive Kind" based on Tennessee Williams' play "Orpheus Descending."  C.C. and I are in agreement that there is no better American playwright, but Williams did some fantastic film work, too, adapting his own plays to film.  Such was the case with "The Fugitive Kind."  Oh, my. . . what a film.  Made in 1960, Brando is still "that" animal he was always so acclaimed to be.  You can't take your eyes off him.  And he is in almost every scene.  Williams must have been going wild.  He had a thing, you know, for Brando. . . and later. . . me.  

So the conversation went, anyway.  

Dinner done, I flopped on he couch to watch the second half of "Perry Mason" which I had fallen asleep to the night before.  Half an hour later, I was ready for bed.  

I wasn't interested in the arrest of a former president.  I've had enough of Trump. He's in the court's hands now, and he will have a fair trial.  Maybe more than one.  People say it is a political trial.  I tell them no, for if it were, we would be putting you into jail with him.  This is strictly a claim of criminal misconduct.  One can only hope that the system is fair and works accordingly.  I am taking no pleasure in it.  

Maybe a little. 

If you watched the video I left a link for a few days ago, you saw my dirty nails.  I just looked, and I have "dirt" under my thumbnail.  But it isn't dirt.  It is coffee.  I cleaned the coffee maker before bed and used my thumb to scrape the coffee stuck to the trap.  Jesus, it makes me wonder are my nails always dirty?  Surely not.  

I'll be a worn out sumbitch this afternoon.  I don't think I'm going to want to cook again tonight.  If any of you would like to eat dinner with me on the deck and extend my life a bit more. . . I'm buying if you are flying!

Yikes!!!  A cruel bunch of gay cowboys if I ever saw 'em.  

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