Category: Curmudgeon Chronicles

My plan for this week. Have supplies of cold beverages. And pizza!

Wonderful to be carefree of current political and cultural nonsense. I am, well and truly, “Far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife“ -Poet Thomas Gray 1751

Page-Walker Arts & History Center for Cary Citizen

Lazy, lazy, hot, hot weekend. Tonight, it’s:

1. Butterflied pork chops (.75lbs), Lowe’s Foods discount case, $1.64 total. Overnight wet salt brine, brush with Duke’s Mayo, Shake & Bake with leftover Mi Nina Tortilla Chip Crumbs, Wondra & Bread Crumbs – NC ABC Paper Sack.
2. Portion of diced Yellow Squash/Zucchini/Tomato with pepper, salt & olive oil.
3. Grains (Millet, Lentils, Barley and Brown Rice) in homemade chicken broth.
4. Chunk of LaFarm Bread.
5. Water with lemon slice & ice.
6. White Wine

Raleigh State Farmers Market – 2013

*I’ve lived in the American South a total of 37 years. I know collards, shrimp, grits and boiled peanuts (just establishing my Bubba Bona Fides).

Monday, 1st of month: Budget update, pay rent, shop for kitchen Post-It lists. Expected a Lease Renewal Proposal. Envelope in door was a xeroxed broadcast admonition to provide income confirmation with the disclaimer of “even if you had” – which I had. The young lady in the leasing office explained they hadn’t gotten info from ( I’m guessing here) corporate somewhere. Which explains how this place has become “Income Restricted” – which is no problem as I am, “Income Restricted”! Bless their Tax Credit and Depreciation Schedule Hearts!

Sooooo – I took the same documents and statements and ‘splained – again. We’ll see. Moving is a pain but yeah, corporate somewhere, go ahead and increase your non-performing vacancy rate.

Thought I’d gotten rid of “LinkedIn” after closing my Photography business. Recently, been getting Spam Broadcasts from LinkedIn accounts I have zero interest in. Googled “How To Delete LinkedIn account” – found answer. So finally, no more oxymoronically named, “Social Media” presence.

Dog sitting with this sweet dumpster rescue for the next half hour while her rescuer “Vacuums” their apartment. Time for a story.

Started to mount these on lights stands I had with 5/8″ studs and 1/4 20 male threads. Went to Lowe’s Hardware and bought some knobs in the hardware aisle with female threads to mount them. Back home, could not make them fit! Until today!

Realized I had transposed 1/4 -20 with 10-24 – not only a different thread pitch but the thread diameter is .190″ vs .250″. Duh!

A trip to my local Ace Hardware for 1/4 -20 Wingnuts fixed the problem. Tossed 8 bucks of mis-purchased knobs. Dinner tonight is “Crow”.

Saturday, I started Chicken stock in my slow cooker with a bag of bones from my apartment sized freezer – added water, peppercorns and bay leaves. Put up today in freezer, with clean, saved Salsa jars and labels I printed. Then washed and repeated Sunday with Beef and Pork Rib Bones. Today, Monday, I put up the Beef/Pork Stock with plans to make Vegetable Stock tomorrow. Its nearly free and I know what’s in it.

My neighbor/adopted Grand Daughter/Rescue Dog Owner/Elementary School Teacher stopped by (dragged by treat conditioned dog) today and I knew she was late, on a Cary Concert Singer Rehearsal night. She was late due to a Mom being late picking up a child. So she waited.

Click images for full size.

And I told her about my channeling “Martha Stewart”, including replacing Air Fresheners and Soap Dispensers and how my Father would have been aghast. And she grinned and said, “Somebody has to do it.” And I said, yep, usually a Woman.

It is liberating to escape societal preconceptions and just get stuff done that needs doing. Which is why Submariners understand doing Laundry and cleaning Heads and Cooking, while submerged for months. Mama ain’t there.

The young man setting up my service appointment at Hendrick Chevrolet Cary was curious about my hearing his Connecticut accent. Told him I’d spent a lot of time in New England and especially Connecticut – Submarine School, Electric Boat, Digital Equipment Corporation, et al. And he was surprised I’d bought my truck, new, in the adjacent show room, in May of 2005, for $13,600.

Had a “Check Engine Light” come on last Saturday. The code was for the Catalytic Converter. My truck is old and exempt from NC Emissions Inspections. As long as all the OEM parts are “visually” there, I pass my required Annual Inspection for N.C. Registration Renewal. Which seems to me, sort of a “Potemkin Village” solution.

So I had them order the aftermarket part (General Motors no longer makes them) and sacrificed 5 hours of waiting and a year of CD interest to fix it properly. The NAPA Part Warranty roughly aligns with my life expectancy.

This is: A. Old & B. A Favorite!

I’d handed a camera to a dance teacher at the long gone “Bravo Academy of Dance” in Chapel Hill, cheek by jowl with the “Governors Club”, a gated & exclusive rich people place.

Set up background & lights and made Dance Recital Photographs with a wall of Moms behind me with phone flashes setting off my light triggers. No matter.

The owner let me go full Brooke – Shtick , On Ladder, On Belly – yeah we made Photographs! Not the usual mechanical, repetitive setups of “Volume Photographers”

So, now in my dotage, waiting for a Killer Good dinner to “rest”, I was thinking how lucky I was to get to try. Non, je ne regrette rien. I was, a very lucky duck!

Last time it was seen from this Earth was 1986. The birth year of my youngest son. Who, because we agree wildly different, is as unseen as Halley’s. I won’t be alive (age 111) at Halley’s next celestial visit. My hope is, sons are.

Been in Grandpa mode lately with a young neighbor about budgets and knowing where your/her money goes. Laying out my August budget yesterday, I got to thinking about the last 12 months – a widower period of transition. I am, to paraphrase Joni Mitchell an “Ageing Child”.

Digging through paper files (remember paper) from this past year, I added up about a total of $8,500 of maintenance for my 2005 Silverado Work Truck. Bought new in May of 2005. Took back to the Mother-ship aka Hendrick Chevrolet in Cary. And I can’t tell the difference from new. Had plenty of time in the Service Dept. waiting room to surf their current deals. Cheapest I could find was triple what I paid in 2005.

Like a Rock!

It’s hauled 3 yard loads of mulch, a yard of crush & run stone, new washer & dryers in and old ones out. Retrieved loads of dried, rough sawed white oak from a mill by the NC State Fairgrounds after a tree service hauled the eight f00t+ long logs there from a big ole tree dropping bark by my house that needed harvesting. Moved sons in and out of UNC Chapel Hill & Greensboro dorms. Moved wood shop tools from house to storage at down sizing. Moved a couple of yards of construction debris from town house during last kitchen renovation for my late sweetheart. Hauled a ton of studio lighting gear for a dozen years. And it moved me to where I am now.

Current role is daily driver – Lowe’s Foods, BJ’s Warehouse, Total Wine and La Farm Bakery. We are both, taking it easy.

Zero apologies to John Updike. Turns out, my young neighborhood Bunny is also a Billy Holiday fan! Hung around, in the shade and safety of my viburnum through multiple tracks!

My first paycheck in 1965, was for 75 cents per hour, checking clothes and checking toes at a suburban, Municipal swimming pool. Aspired to be a Lifeguard, completed the required Red Cross Course but as I was not yet 16, was awarded a “Junior Lifesaving Badge”, so no Lifeguard Job. My first experience with meeting requirements but still, disqualified.

Later and wiser, I lied about my age and enrolled in a YMCA Scuba Certification Course, when it was still Tarzan requirements. Swim a mile, tread water with just arms for 20 minutes, then just legs for 20 minutes. Watched returning Vietnam Vets who could afford the gear, struggle. Took my open water qual in a Northeast Ohio quarry in February, in an ill fitting, borrowed wet suit (no money) and thought I’d never be warm, again.

Made E-7 money as an E-5 Submariner with Pro Pay and Boat Pay and FSA. And except for a year at the College of Charleston (GI Bill and VA part time job) after nine years of Canoe Club, worked. Until spring of 2010 – Lenovo, who’d purchased the IBM PC Company, my employer, made my further career, null.

From 2010, except for getting a Wake County “Certified Pool Operator” Certificate and managing our HOA’s Swimming Pool, I had an encore career as a Portrait and Dance Photographer. COVID and becoming a widower ended that, in the Fall of 2022,

So from 1968 to 2022, some 54 years, I paid my dues. Now, I’m just going to be at peace.

Early in 2005, I was abusing the family bus (aka Grand Caravan) for household hauling. Eldest son snagged an RA job at UNC Chapel Hill. So the Old Man (moi) decided we (Moi) could afford a pickup truck. Got an offer I couldn’t refuse from the very new “Internet” Sales Manager at Hendrick Chevrolet. Plus, a discount due to my younger brother’s employment at Chevrolet.

20 years on, since buying the truck, it’s moved mulch, appliances, drywall, lumber and students from UNC Chapel Hill and UNC G. And me.

It’s spent some time recently, at the mother ship Hendrick Chevrolet (aka NASCAR Garage). My last ride.

Like trying to explain to a horse, I’ve been struggling to explain to myself, what I want. So taking a hiatus/retreat/sabbatical/down time/hiding out for awhile.

This blog has two purposes: An audience of one and an outlet for my voice.

Time to write, carefully. It will be a quiet time. Here and at home.

Maybe, as Shirley Horn sang, September.

Bit of dog sitting today, for a young neighbor. We had treats, play, snuggles and took the air & sun.  She was however, properly leery of my camera gear.  So I assuaged her apprehension. And she was ready for her close-up!

Today, the Postman (saw him) delivered my 2026 NC Vehicle Registration. I affixed the sticker to my, as of next month, 20 year old license plate.

Thursday, following the Tuesday NC State Inspection at the Mother Ship (Hendrick Chevrolet) and a Goat Rodeo Uber pickup, had all 4 tires replaced and a 4 wheel alignment done.

Wherein Brake Linings declared “Yellow” and “May Need Attention At Next Service” on Tuesday, were declared “Red” and need immediate replacement.

So I made an Online Service Appointment to fix up all four, next Wednesday, a day ahead of my Six Month Routine Appointment with my Primary Care Provider. I am, like my Truck, getting old and worn. But I am not, repeat NOT, getting any new parts!

Today’s visitor. Someone, seven years ago, left her in a dumpster.

One parking slot right of my truck, in front of my apartment, taking the Sun.

In late spring of 2005, before I knew my employment with the IBM PC Company would be transferred to Lenovo, my eldest son, following his freshman year at UNC Chapel Hill, enlisted in the U.S.M.C. Reserve without mentioning that to moi. He got an unforgettable summer at Parris Island, followed by assignment and drill with a Reserve Unit in Greensboro. But that’s not what this is about. It’s about a Chevy Work Truck.

Post Parris Island, he got an RA Job at UNC. So I didn’t have a Dorm bill. And I’d been abusing my wife’s Dodge Grand Caravan as household hauler. Which was an excuse to buy the 2005 Chevy Work Truck I’m still driving. With no intent of stopping. He got my 1997 Mercury Grand Marquis which lasted another 150K.

My 2005 had an M.S.R.P. of about 21k. Took it off the lot for 13.6K. With factory bed liner. A few months ago, back at the mother ship, Hendrick Chevrolet in Cary, service manager remarked “This is in really good shape!” Which it is.

Curiosity caused me to look up the price of a new one, 20 years on. Was astonished. Somehow, I found this “modern” version to be unnecessary:

 Audio system, Chevrolet Infotainment 3 system 7″ diagonal HD color touchscreen, AM/FM stereo, Bluetooth audio streaming for 2 active devices, voice command pass-through to phone, Wireless Apple CarPlay and Wireless Android Auto compatibility.

Nah. I got windows that go up and down with a hand crank. Simple and old.

Like me.

Made this photograph while a son was in Afghanistan. The website and my photography business are long dissolved.

I wonder what the next Full Moon will shine on. Semper Fi

This “splooted” squirrel on my porch rail personifies my exhaustion & sore old body from getting house ready to sell.

So really good leftovers today, that just needed warming, were replaced by a refrigerator deli dinner. Eaten standing at the kitchen island.

Followed by wine & chocolate. And early to bed. Another Realtor Showing tomorrow. And so it goes.

There is safety and satisfaction bringing in groceries on a jewel like Saturday. There is comfort knowing you will eat. Arriving home, I saw an immature Eastern Tiger Swallowtail flash by. And after putting all where they should be, it was time to take the air.

On deck with Bourbon & Beer, I watched a mature, male Eastern Tiger Swallowtail navigate and inspect newly opened Beech leaves. Mid April in North Carolina, the deck is littered with Oak Catkins, bathed in cool blue shade and set off by brilliant, golden sunlight. Beech, White and Red Oak leaves are fresh and limp, vivid yellow green against a radiant Cerulean Blue sky.

Out front, Iris Blossoms are tightly furled but ready. The Butterfly Bush hosting the female Eastern Tiger Swallowtail above, won’t bloom for awhile yet.

Somewhere around adolescence I went, by myself, on a Saturday afternoon to Catholic Church, to make my confession. To be in a state of grace to receive Communion at Sunday Mass. I guess I was early, as there was no Priest yet in the Confessional. And I was alone, for a good while. And it was a new to me way to be in a state of grace. Like today. I went home then, without confession, as I have ever since.

My last visit to a Catholic Church was as a tourist, to Notre Dame in Paris. Before the fire. Leaving, I emptied my pocket of Euros and gave them to the Little Sisters of The Poor. They stood silently, for humanity.

Sixty plus years after my teenage epiphany, I am at peace with the Great Spirit.

I made this photograph returning to my truck in the parking lot. Don’t remember why I was there but I do remember, these blossoms were, in a natural irony, overhanging a trash can. Nature, I believe, has a way of providing balance.

The closest I ever get to a house of worship are Election Day Polling places. Most especially, the one my late sweetheart worked in. Which is how I know Elections are true. It also explains my taking the air on the deck today, of the treehouse I live in. Seeking quietude. For a little while more, before it’s sold.

Thankfully afar from today’s weather, I watched the tops of 80 ft. plus Longleaf Pines orbit in the wind while taking my afternoon libation. And making sure I wasn’t about to drink an Oak Catkin dropping, from the big White Oaks surrounding me.

About to go inside and think through dinner prep, I noticed what I had only seen in childhood cartoons – a bright, green inchworm! The cartoonist’s had it right, legs fore and aft. It made a journey around a good size patio table that was exponentially larger than it. And I wondered how it could expend that much energy and what fueled it, what did it eat? So the web-o-sphere revealed it – protein from Oak Catkins! And I thought how lucky I’ve been to witness it all.

And so it goes.

After my refusal to succumb to the popular culture extortion of an Online Ticket Purchase (Swifties will get it), I finally get off my indignation and went to the venue’s physical Box Office. They’re open M-F, 10 AM to 2 PM. Yeah, not real convenient. No weekend hours to avoid downtown parking demand and most folks work hours. But okay for Old Widower Curmudgeons, like Moi.

Stupidly, like a hamster on a wheel, I pulled in to the Public Parking Garage I knew from photographing events in the very same venue. $10 “Event Parking”. No idea what the Event was at Noon. And my fault for not cruising a block or two, for on street availability. Sheepishly, I handed over $10 in cash while the attendant put away the mobile device and found change for my $20.

Two ladies were ahead of me at the Box Office. I was surprised to hear one recite her name, phone and eMail address at the sales clerk’s request, while swiping her credit card. The purchased tickets were entirely digital! I knew I was about to have a new adventure.

When my turn came, I told the clerk the Event, Date and Time I wanted to buy one ticket for. She asked my name and telephone number. I recited those but explained it was a Home Phone – in my case a VoIP line on an Ooma Box with the same number I’ve had for 26 years.

“No”, I was told, “What’s your cellphone number? ” I explained I did have a mobile phone but it was: A. In my truck (remember the parking garage) and B. I didn’t know the number because C. I only use it if I need AAA to come rescue me on the highway or call Duke Power or Spectrum to report outages. Haven’t used it in probably six months. Turn it on once in awhile to make sure it works and keep it charged. About $70 for the year.

She was taken aback and settled for my landline. Realizing she couldn’t issue a Digital Ticket, she Printed one for me, with the advice “Don’t lose it!”. I thought it ironic she didn’t caution the previous customer to not lose their “Phone”.

The good news was, my Ticket was almost $20 less than my aborted Online experience. Plus I had something else to do in Raleigh. And I was very careful driving in a busy city because the folks walking around staring at their phones sure weren’t looking where they were going .

Postscript: “Cars drive way over the speed limit, looking at their phone,”

Like “Mac”, I’m an old dog in winter. Recently read an article about how young folk mistook the lack of a period at the end of sentence for a manager’s anger. And I still can’t begin an e-mail without “Dear”. And so it goes.

Today, I started to purchase a ticket for a Ballet Performance. After acquiescing to online, required hoop jumping, with an account creation, I discovered at “Checkout”, an additional 45%+ cost in “Fees”! Nah.

Tomorrow, I’ll try the same purchase at the venue’s Box Office, which states “No Online Fees”. We’ll see. Old Dogs have time to sniff about.

Disclaimer: There’s other old guy stuff to attend to in Raleigh. Yes, I’m old.