Before heading to office this morning, I had to stop and get another fill-up of gas which seems to be going up every week. I can only imagine all those that work in our City who have to commute on a daily basis, as I’m sure they’re squealing like piggies every time they have to stop and get gas. There’s no question they’re feeling the pinch because I’m noticing it and I don’t even have to commute. Even driving back and forth from Clear Lake would pinch one’s purse. Every time I’m on Hwy 122 heading west in the late afternoon, there are long stretches of cars nearly bumper to bumper heading in a westerly direction.
I had a number of phone calls to make and emails to return early this morning, and by the time I’d done that, and then made a quick run to a bank, it was time for me to head over to First Baptist Church for another session of practice. I’m not sure if it’s because of the full moon, or if people are just getting worse at their following-up on communications because my trip over there was an hour and a half of wasted time because I had assumed the soloist would be there to run thru a hymn I picked for their Offertory. That time slot was spent visiting a little with several of their members, and the rest being seated at their vintage organ and running thru random pieces of music. I had alerted them that I couldn’t stay any longer than half past twelve because I had an out-of-town appointment at one, so when that time arrived, I shut down the organ and let myself out.
While driving to my appointment, I was at first a little bit peeved, but then I just sent it all down and remembered that I can’t crawl into the minds of others and see what their driving forces are. With that said, I decided that I’ll pick one of those hymns filled with rich chords and play it during their Offertory and leave it at that. For sure I’ll not be asking any questions about today’s no-show because in situations like these, the less said is all the better. I promised myself I’d be a perfect gentleman.
One of the nice elderly ladies was seated in one of their pews and began talking to me, so I stopped and walked over for a short visit. She mentioned how much she missed hearing their organ being played every Sunday, so I suggested they start an organ fund and collect enough money to get it back in shape for regular use. I did promise her that if they’d get it fixed, I’d be happy to come back and play it on occasion. She did say the most memorable musical moments, were when there’d be someone playing the organ, and another playing the piano as a duet of sorts. I did have to agree that it always sounds nice when there’s another “voice” or two. Before walking back over to the organ I said, “It’s unfortunate we’re rapidly entering a digital world where there’s no real pipe organs and pianos being used in many of our churches, and instead, they’re music is being generated by electronic keyboards and even follow-along music videos. No thank you very much.
When I arrived at my appointment, the owners were there waiting for me, and as I suspected, I ended up being there for nearly an hour and a half, and only because of the size of the home and the amount of visiting we had to do about the whole process of selling since they’d not sold any real estate for many years, and for sure, times have certainly changed in regards to the amount of paperwork that’s required.
The home definitely needs some updating, but after getting a good thorough look from stem to stern, it’s bones were in far better shape than those built many decades later. I was shocked to find nearly all the woodwork still in a natural state instead of having been coated with many layers of paint. If and when they do decide to sell it, I’m hoping its new owners will have enough forward-thinking vision where it’ll become the showplace it once was.
Since I hadn’t had lunch, I stopped at a convenience store and purchased the world’s smallest bag of chips before heading back to the City. I swear every time we’re within a day or two before, during, and then after the full moon, I see people doing and saying some the craziest of things. For example, a woman who I thought was waving at me while driving towards me, was throwing a plastic wrapper out her window, and then there was a guy driving a beat-up car with it’s trunk lid being held in place with a hooked rubber strap because of how dented his rear-end was, and when he had to stop at a stoplight and I was right behind him, he also threw something out the driver’s window, and then proceed to spit on the pavement several times. Don’t those people realize others are watching them? Of course the real treat was seeing a guy who looked to be in his 50’s, walking down N. Federal with a quilted and hooded winter jacket on. Just looking at him made me all the hotter. I dare not mention any more happenings because I’m sure by now you got the drift.
Believe it or not, I had to replace those Japanese Beetle traps because they were filled to the brim with those disgusting things, and man oh man did they stink. The first whiff of them reminded me of a dead animal carcass. Even after double-bagging them in a heavy-duty garbage bag, I can still smell them.
I was being terribly wicked today when having a short chat with a clerk I know, and it all got started when I happened to notice someone out of my past who did a very good job at finding a sugar daddy. The more I talked about my experience, the more she laughed, but the real belly laugh came when I said, “I still remember my grandmother referring to people like that as being part of the Squirrel’s Club, and of course the first time she said it to me, I had to ask, “What do they do in the Squirrel’s Club?” She gave me her classic look and then answered, “They use their tails to get what’s on their backs.” Ouch!
Tonight’s One-liner is: Religion is all-too-often a refuge for scoundrels.