get rid of old and unwanted things

I can take the tin off the inside of the beams, the bottom too. If I take the outside off I start getting into the tin of the soffits. If I get into the soffits, I’ll end up going all the way around the building and that’s way more work than I need. At this time. I’ll stick with the columns for now.

I called the newspaper because I don’t have one. I love the paper on Sunday morning! The service rep noted “that we do not have any reported problems on that route” and I said to myself, “yes, yes you do. I’m right here. You have one.” And then she said “We will schedule re-delivery” and I thought to myself “re-delivery? You haven’t had one yet. Re? as in Really?” And when I asked by what time she answered “This morning, before noon.” Well! A redundancy and no answer a’tall!

I’m swallowing my frustration and will turn to other pursuits. It’s very Seinfeld of them though. Why can’t they admit they overlooked me, or made a mistake? I’ll bet they’d feel differently if I told them the same about my payment if I did the same. And maybe I will!

of not yet finding a morning paper. It is Sunday and I count on the paper as part of my habituations, my special day with Ms. R, my special morning. I had some ablutions, gathered my tea and an energy drink, and strode into the cool morning air of May to peruse the porch, front lawn. Where have ye been tossed? I looked online. No notice of production or delivery problems. It is early. They promise delivery by 7:00. But I am childlike in my impatience. I want the sports, the comics, the editorial section (which is an eighth of what it used to be ten years ago.)

All of a sudden I hear noises from the bathroom. There is something big, pacing, locked in a shower stall and issuing the throaty deep jumble rumbles of a huge feline presence….

What’s a boy to do? What will happen next? I need to know! But she must finish the tail (!) as she will and I will know first when she does.

So I turn my thoughts to breakfast, though I am not yet breakfast hungry. Something simple perhaps. scrambled eggs, a bit of corned beef hash, fresh fruit? What do you think she will like best? Hmmmmm.

I made them myself. Most of the time I didn’t know I was still wearing them but about once a week I am reminded. Some help with these laces?

has a states’ rights hypocrisy well under way and has for quite a while. They want the Federal Court to say marriage is a state issue.

Why do they want a federal ruling if they believe it is a state (as Pat Robertson puts it) “homo-phobe” issue?

If we look around we see The Right (politically) opting out of Obama Care at the state level. Voting restriction too, like photo i.d. And abortion rights have been attacked at the state level. So has gun control, immigration, “militias,” education, and yadda yadda yadda. In every case they want a federal force of “states’ rights” and that’s hypocrisy.

It’s a tactic that goes back to the antebellum years when The Right sought the Three-Fifths clause in the constitution, the Dred Scott Decision, The Missouri Compromise, and yadda yadda other federal decisions because the Right did not control the federal government. They’ve always wanted states’ rights (an invention in this context) forced at a federal level through legislation, the Supreme Court, yadda yadda yadda. If ya can’t win the vote, win the politics. Not state by state, but with the force of federal intervention. It is historic and large scale hypocrisy and I wish it would go away.

The only good news here is that Colorado not too long ago was king of anti-gay, right wing Christian politics. But it was the dog that caught the car, and could not hold onto what they won. Colorado now is simply the last state to approve gay marriage. A generation of churning and chest thumping and big money and political influence and God’s Will and and there ya go. Just like slavery. Gone.

(And no. I don’t think muhself to be a Euro lefty or a free range liberal.)

They came to the door at the crack of dawn, our dawn. They rang once, twice, stood around. Knocked.

I felt compelled to answer. I wondered if my was car on fire? If small animals had been cruelly staked to my lawn. If there was death and dismay upon us because Three Mile Island had sprung mighty leaks (again)? What could be so URGENT as to interrupt us at noon?

Two nicely dressed young men stood there inviting me to attend their Baptist Church. I, bleary, feigning sleep, dismissed them after taking their pamphlet

I’m hankering for ham salad sandwiches. Like that stuff that comes in those little cans with a dancing devil on the label. But better. It is gonna happen.

Especially on phone business. To confirm my identity, they ask on the other end, “Is this Joe Blow?” And I think “THIS is confirming identity? Wouldn’t I agree to be whoever they offered if I was trying to get away with something? Do they never ask a false name, or ask me to provide the name associated with an account?”

We go through a lot of foolishness for the sake of “security.” I’m gonna start questioning more, putting up less. Then maybe they’ll let me enter the Win My Weight In Meat Contest more than once.

long ago were covered in paneling. It was expensive in its day: thick, a hard glossy surface that resists dings and scrapes. It is very heavy for what it is. Two people are needed for installation. That gets a bit tricky in a two story stairwell. I’m sure the homeowner thought it the cat’s meow, the bee’s knees, when installed. There is a dropped ceiling at the top too.

I’ve never enjoyed working in stairwells. They are big work in small place to me, like bathrooms but way up.

None of it is to my taste. I’m restoring this property to something much closer to original appearance. Over the weekend I wrestled half the paneling and dropped ceiling out. There is only one coat of wall paper which I stripped (the same neo-classical pattern I found in the kitchen) and one coat of paint (whitish yellow, like a banana fruit).
There is plaster damage but nothing that can’t be fixed. When I get this half of the stairwell finished, I’ll move the ladder and do the other, shorter half.

The restored appearance is a dramatic change, a good one.

Yesterday started achey and moved to sluggish and tired. Today stronger and stuffy. I’m gettin’ over what ever it was. By tonight I’ll waltz in the kitchen until the pie looks up with one eye and says: “I’ll cheer ya!”