Thirty-six years ago today.

 

It’s an odd thing really,  when you can remember where you were or what you were doing when a certain piece of news gets etched into your consciousness. 

It was very early in the morning on a Wednesday, when the Toronto Sun had the whole front page covered with the death of Elvis Presley.

 

I was doing my summer job thing,  and that was filling in for owners of catering trucks, who would hire me to replace them while they took a little vacation in the summertime.  I don’t even recall whose truck it was, but I do remember that front page. 

I’ll have to admit,  I’ve never been a big fan.  I’ll get flamed by the Elvis die-hards I’m sure, but I think I would sooner listen to Robert Johnson, Muddy Waters or Buddy Guy,  truth be told. 

One thing though,  when groups like the Stones or a crooner like Elvis sang the material (well, more like *stole* the material) of black artists,  naive white boys like me started to pay attention.  Anyone with white skin listening to black music in the sixties?  That didn’t really work.  And besides, unless you were willing to go to a city such as Detroit say, or some such place,  you wouldn’t get to hear black artists.  That music didn’t get played on the radio. So we should be thankful for guys like Elvis.  Really.

Just the same, I won’t be planning any trips to Graceland anytime soon.  Sorry.

Feel free to talk amongst yourselves.

 

Meanwhile, it’s a fairly normal Friday here at the Ponderosa. 

You know, strip the bed, flip the stupid pillow top mattress.  That kind of thing.  Well, with the stupid pillow top mattress,  there’s no actual “flipping”.  You can only rotate the stupid thing.  Am I giving the impression that maybe I’m not overly keen on the pillow top mattress??

Useless thing.

 

Speaking of which,  once upon a time in a weaker moment,  I bought this tool.  (good segue, huh?)

 

The reason that I happen to mention this is,  I figure that now that I’ve got all the new windows installed,  I’d best go around and put some fresh finish on the ones that have been in for a few years.  They’ve not seen a lick of finish in over five years (remember that European thing?) so they’re looking a little sad.

Eek.

This is the unfortunate negative of having wooden windows.  You know.  Wooden windows, wooden head. 

They take a particularly brutal beating on the western side of the house.  It’s either pounding rain or blistering sun.  Which is why I started the kitchen window in the morning, and I’ll wait until the afternoon to put the trim on the big window out front.  Not overly keen on working in the pounding sun. 

Or any sun.

First coat went on yesterday.  Did a second this morning.

 

 

A much bigger window means much longer pieces of trim.

 

Anyway,  about that little detail sander?  I don’t do tool reviews, but if you’re thinking of getting one, just take fifty bucks (I don’t think it was even that much) and give it to a women’s shelter.  You’ll feel better,  and your money will be put to better use.

What’s that expression?  “Useless as tits on a bull”?   Well, we could be a little more *genteel* I suppose,  and use the word “teats”.  Or maybe “protuberances”?  

Um ya, that’s got a lot of punch.  “Useless as protuberances on a bull.”   *pfft*

Forget I said that.  Sometimes being “PC” just doesn’t cut it.

I tried a couple different configurations, and it went faster to just dig in the corners with my fingers.  If it’s “detail” work, then a machine isn’t necessary, and if it needs something more aggressive, then that stupid thing doesn’t cut it.  Designed by a room full of monkeys slapping away at keyboards.

 

Earlier this morning,  before she left for the salt mines,  Travelling Companion asked me about the whereabouts of the water filter I ordered for the fridge.

Right. 

I sort of forgot about that,  so I went on the line to take a peek.  There’s always an email involved.

Turns out it’s supposed to arrive Monday.  There was some sort of change.   Meh, whatever.  Just as long as I get it.

 

But wait.  Richmond, B.C.?  Holy Moly!  If I didn’t have such an aversion to the whole ordeal of going in to the local Wal*Mart, I could have just driven up there and picked one up by now.  Of course, providing that it was in stock.  There’s always that slight annoyance.   It’s not like we’ll be needing one for the next six months or so,  but I know full well that, unless I order (or *shudder* pick-up) a replacement right away,  I’ll forget. 

Then one day the water will start to taste a little off,  Muggins here will go to the cupboard,  and it’ll be bare.  Or lacking a fridge filter.

Of course,  just when I think I can believe what Canada Post has to offer in the way of tracking a package, (and what? am I that dumb?) I hear horses hooves outside on the drive…

No,  I’m kidding about the horses hooves thing. 

It was a mini-van,  and some Dude with a package. 

 

So much for Monday.  Whatever.

 

He left it on the step,  which was exactly why I briefly thought that maybe my filter had gone missing?  We haven’t had any roving bands of filter pinching vagabonds in the neighbourhood lately though,  I’m pleased to report.

 

For those of you who have been put off by the cost of replacing your fridge filter, I’ll give this one the “thumbs up”,  coming in at thirty-three bucks,  delivered.  That’s not including taxes, but delivery was free.  I like that whole free delivery thing.  And with the exception of ordering on line taking up the tiniest little bit of room on my computer, it’s kind of easy peasy.

Well, I suppose the filter will take up a tiny bit of room in the cupboard until it’s needed, but I’m OK with that too.

 

Well,  lunch is long over. 

Keep it between the ditches.

 

Thanks for stopping in.

 

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