I Think

I am finally getting around to painting the End of the Trail figure I made of fence boards. I had never intended painting it or doing anything with it, but my daughter wanted it. She's going to be the second person to see my autobiographical novelette when she stops by to get the figure. She wants a copy.

I am very concerned over the trade bill congress and the president are working on. For some reason I haven't figured out, it is said to be about to cause another cut in Medicare. The whole thing sounds to be a sellout of American workers. I certainly hope enough Democrats stand against it when the vote comes up.

bink

Went to my former job today. It was the make ready man's birthday. He's 55. We had a cake and visited a while. They were busy, so I cut it short and left. Stopped and spoke with an elderly woman who lives near the pool. I don't really miss working, now, but I do miss having the run of the place.

All these years and I didn't know this method of rolling up extension cords.

I was just watching a wonderful old film:

The Devil and Miss Jones (1941)
Approved | 92 min | Comedy, Romance | 11 April 1941 (USA)

A tycoon goes undercover to ferret out agitators at a department store, but gets involved in their lives instead.

Director: Sam Wood
Writer: Norman Krasna
Stars: Jean Arthur, Robert Cummings, Charles Coburn

That's the kind of stuff people went to see when they felt there was hope and we were building a better society.

I took a first ever selfie almost a week ago. I was working on a project in the yard when the notion attacked my good sense. Hence the scruffy informality.

You look maahhvelous, edgar

In person I am much taller.

That set me to thinking. I have no idea what to say when a guy posts a selfie. If it's a female, I can immediately come up with a comment. But when it's a guy, I just look at the picture and go blank. What's missing from my brain?

You are expected to say something like: I thought it was Edgar Buchanan. Geeze what an ugly mug.

How about Edgar Rice Burroughs? I don't know many Edgars...

There is a resemblance

Yeah, I thought so, too. His was the first Edgar name that popped into my head, so I googled it and lo and behold, there you were.


Edit: And that reminds me of something else. When someone asks me whether a guy is handsome or not, my mind also goes blank. It seems to have no concept of an attractive man.

I don't like Burroughs the man. Didn't know that until I read a quote from one of his books.

“[The little black boy] had seen Tarzan bring down a buck, just as Numa, the lion, might have done... Tibo had shuddered at the sight, but he had thrilled, too, and for the first time there entered his dull, Negroid mind a vague desire to emulate his savage foster parent. But Tibo, the little black boy, lacked the divine spark which had permitted Tarzan, the white boy, to benefit by his training in the ways of the fierce jungle. In imagination he was wanting, and imagination is but another name for super-intelligence.

Imagination it is which builds bridges, and cities, and empires. The beasts know it not, the blacks only a little, while to one in a hundred thousand of earth's dominant race it is given as a gift from heaven that man may not perish from the earth.”
― Edgar Rice Burroughs, Jungle Tales of Tarzan (Tarzan, #6)

Huh. That's a new one on me.

Ethnic cleansing set to begin in two days in the Dominican Republic. No outcry anywhere that I know of.

Rocky came flying in the doggy door. He plopped down a dead mole in front of me. "Get out of here with that," I told him. He picked it up ran back outside. Almost instantly, he popped back in and threw down the mole, then went through the doggy door again. He was simply too proud of himself to not share it with me. So I stuck it in an empty coffee can and dropped it in the outside trash can. Poor moles are forced to the surface by the high water table.

Did you eever, ever, iver, In your leaf, life, loaf. See the deevil, devil, divil. Kiss his weef, wife, woaf?

Used to hear that as a kid. Got no idea what it is from.

Had dinner with a daughter and her hubby. Great day. Tired, now, and full. Groan.

A man I worked with not that long ago, and who was at my retirement get together at the apartments, coincidentally went to a job in Houston, to replace a hot water tank. Turns out, he worked for my oldest daughter today. One of his comments that she repeated: "That man has some big hands." I can't argue. When I was about twenty, a correspondence art class I was taking, gave as a lesson the task of drawing a hand on a sheet of bond paper. The instructions said it was okay to trace around your own hand for this lesson and to fill in the details - nails, etc. So I traced around my hand, filled in the details - The instructor told me that hands are not shaped like this. It has given me problems on the job a number of times. Products are manufactured for smaller and smaller hands these days.