Close Encounters Of The Bird Kind

In my previous posting I mentioned my intention to go for long walks in an attempt to build stamina for my two 10-hour days next week (10-hour days kicked my ass even twenty years ago.) Yesterday I was fulfilling that promise. I walked the arroyo path to Ventura and was fixin' ta walk to Harper when the bike path caught my attention. For many months I've wondered if that bike path went all the way to Wyoming Avenue, but until yesterday I was either headed for Academy Road or was in too much of a crunch to risk a time-consuming adventure that might turn into a dead end. Yesterday I was walking for the sake of walking, so an adventure was just the ticket.

Well, it turns out that the path almost makes it to Wyoming - just a few parking lots in between. It actually ends at the Cherry Hills branch of the library. Anyway, it was a much more pleasant walk than Harper, where the dogs bark and sometimes even snap at me over the concrete block walls between their yards and the sidewalk, mere inches from my new hearing aids.

So I was walking along, trying to keep up a brisk pace, when a big ol' roadrunner came running up the path straight at me. I stopped. It stopped about thirty feet away and stared at me for about ten seconds, then it turned around and ran away. I guess I'm pretty scary looking. Good thing I'm not a coyote.

The Long Good Bye

My work on The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas is finished. At the end of this week I'll pick up my check for $500! Woo hoo!!!

Most of the landscaping in our yard is weeded for the big wing ding on June 5th, when the folks coming from out of town and the folks participating in the Ordination ceremony (some are both) will be here in this little house and back yard - all thirty-some of them. This project also entails getting the sliding glass door (we call it the screeching glass door) fixed. Oh well, Marilyn would have to get it fixed before she could sell the house anyway. The rollers are gonzo!

Tomorrow is my big day. At 1:30 is my appointment at the Coumadin Clinic. Ahn will poke my finger and get a reading of my anti-coagulant level. Then I'll have my first (and last?) appointment with the mythical Dr. Garcia, in whose name all of my prescriptions have been written (in Ahn's handwriting.) I'm hoping he takes me off the "rat poison" after six months, as was explained to me back in December.

Then I "race" home on the Albuquerque transit system to get ready for the Ministerial Spouses Dinner with William (Rev. Christine Robinson's husband) and Carlos (Rev. Angela Herrera's husband.) It doesn't sound like my cup of tea at all, but I figure I'll live through it and it will re-enforce my ministerial spouse identity - something that will come in handy for being a ministerial spouse that is active in the congregation in Meadville, PA.

Last Friday afternoon I filled out nine pages of paperwork for my former employer, F/X. They're coming to Albuquerque on June 2nd with a set for KRQE News. My buddy Keith suggested I talk to my buddy Brannen, the Production Manager and my Facebook Friend, about getting on the crew. Of course, the Ordination Department "suggested" I not work on June 4th, 5th or 6th. What with Union relations etc. this means I will be working the 2nd and 3rd only, approximately twenty hours. Hell, it took me almost that long to download, fill out and fax back my application package. You'll be happy to know that I sent along my letter of recommendation from their former general manager, now vice president, in my fourteen-page fax.

One thing that nags at me is that I may no longer have the stamina to work two ten-hour days. A year of NOT working, plus a blood clot have made it difficult to do a lot of anything. My plan is to do a lot of walking during these nine days. I've mentioned in the recent past that I feel as if my career in show business has come to an end. That's fine with me. I accidentally changed careers twenty two years ago to get into the Biz, now I can't wait to find out what the next accident will bring. Of course, being a minister's wife will be job one, but an income would be helpful as well. I don't believe that growing and selling chile peppers will do much in that department. I've already applied to the Meadville Home Depot, a cabinet shop, a portable horse stables rental place, a machine shop... As soon as I post this I'll be strolling over to The Meadville Tribune to see what's new there.

I returned to Facebook on Wednesday. All I did was log in, and everything was as I left it. First, I played the Scrabble move I had abandoned nineteen days earlier. Then I culled fourteen more people from my "Friends," bringing my total to an even twenty nine - including "Strange Women Lying About In Ponds Distributing Swords As A System Of Government," one of my favorite friends. Never posts anything.

Almost a month and a half left here in Abq, not enough time to start anything, and way too long to be saying good bye.

Abq Snafeaux

Two days in a row now I've missed my #2 bus connexion, arriving in time to actually see the number two bus a couple blocks north of Central (Historic Route 66) and fading fast into the distance. Yesterday it was the consequence that was the snafu, and today the missing of the conexion was the consequence of an earlier snafu. Stop me if I go on and on about really boring (to anyone but me) stuff.

Yesterday the #66 bus just had more stops than normal. It seemed as though somebody wanted to get on or off at every turquoise bus stop sign on Central. What started out as "plenty of time" to get to Eubank by 5:31 turned into a 5:34 arrival. Now there are times when the #2 runs late, but a glance at the empty bus stop showed that it had gone by. Further study revealed the back of a bus way up the street. The next one was scheduled for 6:00.

There is a small problem with the 6:00 bus. Unlike the 3:30, 4:00, 4:30, 5:00, 5:30 or 6:30, the 6:00 runs the midday schedule: instead of going Eubank to Academy to Ventura and past my development, this one goes Eubank to Layton, to Academy and back to Eubank - bypassing Ventura and letting me off about a mile from my house. The alternative: let it go by and wait for the 6:30. I opted for the walk. I like to walk.

So I'm on the 6:00 and Carmen calls. She's working until about 6:30. I tell her to look for me on Ventura and at least wave as she goes by. So we get to Eubank and Layton, and the driver keeps going on Eubank! Cool, I thought, he doesn't know about the rogue schedule. I'll just keep my baloney lips zipped and ride on down Ventura. So he gets to Academy and stops. He gets up, carrying his written route directions, and asks the two passengers if we know how he's supposed to go. We both want to go down Ventura, so that's what we tell him. He doesn't buy it so he gets on the communication device and phones home. They tell him he should have gone on Layton. "Oh well," he says to us, "I guess I'll just stay here until time to go back south on Eubank. There'll be another bus along shortly." I decided to walk.

That is how my one mile walk turned into a two mile walk. It was after 7:00 and I was almost home when Carmen called again. She was just now ready to leave work. No wonder I never saw her go by and wave.

Today, on the other hand, was a #66 glitch. We were cruising along, with plenty plenty plenty of time to make the 12:41. I was even thinking of walking up Eubank to "The Chile Addict" store to see what they had in books about growing green chiles (I don't believe they'll be as easy to come by in Pennsylvania) and maybe some seeds. There was a beautiful little 10-year-old girl in a wheelchair on the bus, and that could take some time to unload, but even so, plenty plenty plenty of time.

And then we got to downtown, to the Alvarado Transportation Center. There in the bus loading/unloading zone out front was an old beater of a car, "parked" about three feet out from the curb. In trying to maneuver to the #66 bus stop, our bus barely scraped a corner of this car. Some yelling occurred, and the Transit Police came out in force. After many minutes went by, we were told to exit the bus. We did. Another #66 would be along shortly. Suddenly, the old beatermobile drove away! So, after many minutes, we were told we could reboard the bus. We did so, but just before we pulled away, the car returned, more yelling ensued, and we were asked once again to exit the bus. This time a #66 pulled in behind, and we all boarded that one, including wheelchair girl and her family.

Of course, after all of that plus the unloading of the wheelchair along the way, we made it to Eubank at 12:43, just in time to see the back of the #2 bus fade into the distance. The next one was at 1:41.

The good news: I now have a great book about growing chile peppers and two packets of seeds!

Two More Months Of Stuff

Sundays won't be nearly as exhausting for Carmen as they have been since September. The third service, the "contemporary service" during which a band plays music from the sixties and seventies, and the sermon is dropped unceremoniously into the middle, has been discontinued for the duration of the summer. Instead of being finished at 2:00, church will be over at noon. She'll still be tired, especially since she was up late finishing her homily last night.

Soon her internship will officially be finished. From then until July 4th she will be the "Acting Associate Minister" before the newly hired Associate Minister is installed. I don't think this upgrade in her title will entail much extra work - she's already doing the job without the title. On the night of her last day of Albuquerque ministry, the whole country will be shooting off fireworks to celebrate her transition from student / associate minister to fully fledged minister to the congregation in Meadville, Pennsylvania!

Remember that I said that the plan changes often? Well, my previous posting described my journey to Meadville beginning directly after Ordination. That changed a day or two after I posted it. Now, Carmen and I are going together in the Rav4 directly after the moving company drives the truck away, probably following the same routine we followed with the kitties on the way here. The Gospel of Rand McNally includes a detailed description of this procedure, which involves listening to them whine in their carriers during the morning, and letting them join us up front after lunch and gas fill-up. Four days on the road will not be as stressful as sixteen - I hope.

Less than two months to go. Most of our stuff is still packed from the last move. I've packed up our "fancy" dishes already, as well as my new Beatles boxed set and the old "Avengers" VHS tapes given to me by a church staff member last week. Carmen's office needs to be packed up, but I ain't touchin' that! There are a few more kitchen items to pack when we get closer to July, but first we have the incursion of sixteen friends and family members who are coming for the Ordination June 6th. That's the next big hoo-ha. Then Carmen goes to General Assembly in Minneapolis later in June, and will have another week in Albuquerque after she returns.

Meanwhile, there's still a lot to do for Albuquerque Little Theatre's production of "The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas" which will keep me busy busy busy until the end of this month. It opens May 28th. Y'all come!

A Momentous Decision

For weeks I've been thinking about it. Little by little I've been cutting back - I went from 57 to 43. All the hours I've spent reading stuff, looking at pictures and videos - and playing Scrabble! Holy Mackerel (it is Friday, after all.) Then there was all the discussion of information usage and privacy issues. And all the political stands and statements. I found I was more irritated than entertained. So this evening, April 30th, 2010 at 8:28pm MDT I deactivated my Facebook account.

It was a very good thing during the long siege scouring the internet job search wasteland, filling out online applications, doing assessment tests, emailing resumes and cover letters - and never hearing anything from anybody other than automated acknowledgements of receipt of said materiel. Facebook was a place I could go to hang out with friends. It was a great solace during those long days.

Now, however, I'm going to the theatre every day, leaving at 7:00am and returning home at around 6:00pm.There is some packing for the move that needs to happen. In about a month, people will begin to gather for that most momentous occasion, Carmen's Ordination (y'all come!) Moments after that's over, I'll be loading up the truck and driving my tools to Pennsylvania, where I already have more friends than I've made in New Mexico, looking for a job and finishing the house before the motherload arrives. As much as I'll miss my 43 Facebook friends, I won't have much time to dwell on it.

I think the big turning point came when I posted a picture of Snake Boy holding up his seven foot rattlesnake skin. I was expecting dozens of comments. There were three. Meanwhile, I was emailing it to my Facebook-free dad, and I decided to just go ahead and email it to the whole address book, many of whom are on FB. I got more comments from that mailing than from the FB crowd. "Hmmm," I said, "Why am I spending so much time there?" Ever since then I've been going back and forth between doing another friend purge, and simply purging my own damn self. Today I decided on the latter.

Peaceful Easy Feelin'

Carmen flew in right on time Monday. We hauled the really big suitcase and the new super giganto suitcase to the car, drove home and hauled them into the house. Carmen took a short nap, took a long post-11 hours in airports and airplanes shower, and we went to the church staff going away party for Ron, the Associate Minister here who might be going to the UU Church of Jacksonville, Florida. The party was at a small, dingy bowling alley on the east side.

The senior minister was there, and she was asking me about Meadville and the house we're buying. I gave her as complete an account as it is possible for me without writing it down. So the next day she said to Carmen that I seemed much more at ease than she's ever seen me. When confronted about this, I came to the conclusion that I am more at ease now that I know a) that we have a firm destination; b) where that destination is and c) approximately when we're going.

Of course the plan has changed several times this week, but the latest plan is that I will rent a small truck for the cats, my tools, my computer and some other stuff we don't trust the movers to move. I will leave in time to get to Meadville ten days after closing on the house, when the sellers are contracted to be out. I will assess the attic conversion project to ascertain what else is needed, buy stuff at Home Depot before returning the truck, and get to work. The goal will be to have the room ready for the honkin' heavy adjustable beds before the movers carry them off of the truck. As my old friend Mr. Charles Edward Channell would say, "It's gonna be close!"

The Life Of The Wife

Being the wife of Carmen M. Emerson is a good life. No matter what's going on, there's always something interesting and challenging to do. Of course, the latest and greatest challenge has been making public appearances with her, without embarrassing her. Colby Landers said it best. I told him we were going to Meadville to meet the whole congregation and to impress them favorably. "And she's taking you?!!!" he said.

They seemed to like me. For one thing, there's a large contingent of the congregation that is involved with the community theatre, and they are courting me big time. The Properties Team, that does repairs and maintenance for the church, has already signed me up. The choir is counting on another tenor. And of course, most importantly, I have a repertoire of "new" casseroles to introduce to their "6:59er" pot luck suppers.

Buying a house in Meadville - or anywhere else, for that matter, is a portion of pastry when the Rev. is a former real estate law firm receptionist turned secretary turned closing agent turned paralegal and office manager. She tells me what to pay, I pay it; she tells me to sign it, I sign it. Easy peasy Japaneasy. As a corollary, when we move into the house, she tells me what ceiling fan to install and where, I install it; she tells me what she wants in a built-in bookcase, I build it; she tells me what plants to plant and where, I plant them - you get the idea.

Now that the Meadville congregation has finally officially called her, now that we know that we're moving and where and when, it's all just a matter of getting the job done. Benny Van Buren sang it best: "Ain't nothin' to it but to do it." It's a good life.

Chestnut Street

Meadville, Pennsylvania was founded in 1766, after George Washington ran the French out of there. The UU Church of Meadville was established in 1825. Its new building, built in (I think) 1836, is on Chestnut street, right on "The Diamond," an oval-shaped town square. I guess about ten churches are clustered around The Diamond.

Up the road (and it's all uphill) is the house we have a contract on. Seven addresses listed in the church directory are on Chestnut, and we're not listed yet. The congregational meeting is this Sunday, the 18th, and they are voting on whether or not to call Rev. Carmen as their next settled minister. If things go as well for her the rest of the week, they'll call her for sure. Of course, we all know what a treasure she is. The only person who doesn't know is Carmen.

It's nice to be home, back in the cat juggling saddle again. And I now have a great new Rand McNally to write - tomorrow!

He's Dead, Jim!

We had a lovely Easter yesterday, beginning with the sunrise service at 6:45am. Carmen somehow - she doesn't remember how - got shanghaied into playing guitar during the service, and accompanying the singing of "Morning Has Broken," "Spirit of Life" and "This Little Light Of Mine" by the fifty-some congregants who came to watch the sun rise over the Sandia Mountains. Some yummy breakfast burritos were available for sale afterward, and then we set up for the two Family Services in the Social Hall. Moving tables and chairs around, that's what church is supposed to be all about.

All in all, there were six church services at the First Unitarian Church of Albuquerque yesterday, which I think is a lot considering that most of the attendees do not believe that the dead guy became undead. I guess going to church on the first Sunday after the first full moon after the vernal equinox to celebrate a holiday that is all about bunnies, eggs and flowers - but has nothing whatsoever to do with fertility - is a habit we can't break. Anyway, diluting the 700+ members of the Albuquerque church by six services made each one manageable, unlike the SRO crowds we used to get in Orlando.

So we were there from 6:15am until 2:00pm. Carmen co-officiated the family services while the grown-up services were going on in the sanctuary at 9:30 and 11:00. I attended one of each, family and grown-up. The "Contemporary Service" (during which the band plays music from 40 to 50 years ago) had all three ministers and the Director of Religious Education involved. I took a contemporary nap.

We got to come home and relax for a couple of hours after church and before going to the house of Kathy, the chair of Carmen's Intern Committee, for a very yummy dinner with her Brady Bunch family.

The next entertainment was setting the GPS to guide us home, and realizing she still thought "home" was in Watertown, Massachusetts! Good thing we didn't just blindly follow her directions or we'd be in Arkansas by now.

Within Me, Without Me

As I write my "memoirs" of my life in show business, I feel as if it is actually over now. If I were already employed by a production company, I'm sure I'd have at least intermittent gigs, because I've been doing it since the eighties and know my stuff really well. Moving to Albuquerque in the depths of the worst economic crash in history was not a good career move unless the move was out of the career. I was the old man in the biz ten years ago. I'm still in Facebook contact with dozens of my coworkers in Massachusetts, and they have been working alternating weeks for a long time.

When I began to volunteer building scenery at Albuquerque Little Theatre, I saw my future in a man named Matthew. He's in his seventies, and volunteers one day a week when he's in town. At this moment he's in Sarasota, Florida being a snowbird. I expect him to return any week now, because it's getting ready to get unbearably hot down there. Anyway, he's a pretty good carpenter, but he's past the point where he could be a professional at it. Maybe it's not my future. Maybe I'm there.

I'm hoping to get started soon on the set for The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas, and I'm hoping Colby has money in his budget to pay me for it. With a week-long trip to Meadville, PA coming up in April and a move to Meadville coming up in June / July, job hunting here has become little more than a habit. I'm spending more psychic energy wondering what life will be like in northwestern Pennsylvania. I'm certainly not considering jobs that specify the use of my reliable vehicle; I skip over jobs requiring certifications, extensive training or union membership; college degrees are out of the question; and salesmanship is just out of my range of abilities. I still scour the advertisements, and even occasionally find something to apply for. But those eighty guys that also apply for everything I apply for are still there, most still much younger, most in much more need than I am. Truth be told, although our resources are dwindling, we do still have resources. I know that many of those eighty guys are in much worse straits than we are.

Meanwhile, I have my blogs to keep my mind busy. I've long wanted to write these stories of my fascinating life, but never had the time. More importantly, Carmen has long wanted me to write them. The fact that nobody else cares about them is an unpleasant truth, but onward I plunge. Life flows on within me and without me.

NEXT!

Transition time again. I was just next door at "The Business Of Show," writing about the end of the Vero Beach era, cross-fading into the beginning of the St. Cloud era. I was recalling the last show we worked on for the Vero Beach Theatre Guild, and how little I cared about it. We were in motion to move, and this show, Once More With Feeling, was just an obligation to check off the list before we left to begin our new lives together. Since then we've moved into three places in St. Cloud over nine years, one house in Orlando for another nine years, two places in Middlesex County, Massachusetts for four years and now in Albuquerque for nearly a year.

The beginning of this week was momentous. On Monday, the search committees for the three congregations with whom Carmen has been in pre-candidate status lo these many weeks all made their announcements that Carmen was their first choice. So she had to officially accept one and officially turn down two before she would clear me to make it public knowledge. Before she gave me the okay, she posted on Facebook that we are going to Meadville, in western Pennsylvania in April to meet the congregation and almost certainly get voted in as newly called minister and her wife. At last we have a destination.

Anyway, as I was writing about not really caring about the show in '87, I was not really caring about what I was writing. I wonder if it's the "short timer" mode kicking in, or whether I don't believe anybody gives a flying fig about "The Business of Show." As much as I've enjoyed writing it, I've been writing it primarily because my fan club said YES to another Jim Emerson series of ramblings. If nobody is reading it, I'm not writing it. I've got at least another thirteen years, most of it working as a professional set builder, to add to the seven years already posted. I may get fired up over it again, but right at this moment, I'm not that interested.

So I'm happy about Meadville. The salary is good and the cost of living is the lowest of the three. I don't know what the employment picture looks like there, but it can't be a whole lot worse than here. We will be there for a good long while, so maybe I'll have a place to set up a home shop - maybe get that sliding compound mitre saw I've been dreaming of... start designing, building and marketing some games and other wacky stuff.

Meanwhile, I might have some local employment at Albuquerque Little Theatre for as long as it takes to build a two-story set with a balcony and a curved grand staircase for The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas. I'm going down there tomorrow to clean the shop after the Plaza Suite strike, and to ascertain how things are going in the design and budgeting realms of the scene shop. I think I'll be in a good place emotionally for it. It's a short term gig, and I'm a short term guy.

The Conquering Geezer Returns

I went back to the hearing aid place this morning and got my aids adjusted. They're programmable, and, as a former sound technician (before the band blasted away my hearing) I knew the frequencies I was missing. I asked my hearing professional if she could bump up the upper mid range. She did, and it's a miracle! I can hear again! I'm heeeeeeeeeal-da! From there I went down to the medical supply place to get my three-month-old prescription filled for compression stockings for my deep vein thrombosis.

I went there yesterday, and they told me that they couldn't fill it because the scrip didn't include a diagnosis - they could fax it to the doctor, and maybe I'd be good to go in a couple of days. I looked at the paper, and the issuing entity was the UNM Anti-Coagulation Clinic, written by Ahn, my finger poker. I crossed the street and took the next number 11 west to UNM Hospital. I went to the clinic, gave the scrip to the guy at the desk, and within two minutes it had a diagnosis on it and I was on my way back. I gave it to a different person this time. She looked at my leg and said it was too swollen to measure, could I come back first thing in the morning? Well, first thing in the morning for them is 8:30 - I've been up and doing things for four hours by then. So she told me what to measure, and this morning, after feeding the ravenous beasts, I measured my damn self.

Wonder of wonders, this morning I handed them my prescription with diagnosis included, and my piece of paper with measurements on it, and within five minutes I was trying one on. It was great. It's still on.

Busing back toward home, I found myself at Montgomery and Eubank at 11:00, with fifty five minutes before the next bus to my neck of the desert. It just so happens that there's a Wendy's there, so I stepped inside. Evidently, 11:00 is Geezer Time at Wendy's. There was white hair and no hair scattered throughout the place, and canes and walkers everywhere. So I pulled up my support stocking, adjusted my trifocal glasses, turned up my hearing aids and walked my arthritis legs up to the counter on my orthotic arch supports.

11:00 at Wendy's: the Geezer Lunch. I'll have to remember that.

Snap, Crackle, Hiss

The Beatles are playing from my Media Player program. I've listened to pretty much everything in my Media Player music library, and until Thursday afternoon, thought that the sound coming from my speakers was clipped off at the upper frequencies. Thursday afternoon, new hearing aids installed, I was delighted to find that those upper frequencies had been magically restored. I did a Steely Dan festival that day.

Everything sounds weird after twenty five years of diminishing hearing is suddenly restored. Things have that top end hiss, that hard-edged crackle that I remember but haven't heard in many years. My shoes on the road, the traffic, the microwave, the cats' meow, the keyboard I'm typing on, my own voice - every sound is a little startling, but I'm getting used to it.

There have been a few times since we moved to Albuquerque that I have wished that our real stereo was unpacked and set up. Thursday through today, during the four hours a day I'm wearing my aids (a break-in period for my ears and brain) I've wondered how much better it will sound with my ears on. I guess I'll find out this summer in our new location.

Book 'Em!

Being a rolling stone and practically moss-free, it has been difficult to keep up with friends I've left behind - until Facebook. I now have Facebook friends I haven't seen in thirty years, twenty years, ten years, five years and one year. They are in Odenton and Baltimore, Maryland; Vero Beach, Orlando, St. Augustine, Jacksonville, and now Deland, Florida; Greater Boston, Warren and Lowell, Massachusetts; and Albuquerque, New Mexico. I even have a friend I've never met in New Jersey, a friend of a friend, who likes my blogs.

This rose to the surface of my consciousness because I recently got to thinking about my best buddy for nine years at F/X Scenery and Display. I looked him up on FB, but he wasn't there. No surprise. Then I got to comparing this situation with my best buddy from Mystic Scenic Studios for three years. A few months ago I friended his wife to stay in touch with him. And Colby Landers of Abq Little Theatre - I am FB friends with his wife. So I looked up Keith's wife, and sure enough found her. We messaged, and I sent her a friend request this morning. They're curious about how my life is going, and what more comprehensive way to tell them than to refer them to these blogs and update them along with everybody else on Facebook.

It's a pain in the ass and they make Scrabble more and more inconvenient every day, but I still love my Facebook. Over 500 million people do.

Up And Down, In And Out

Carmen is in Carlsbad this weekend. I have a Gospel of Rand McNally entry entitled "Holes In The West" that includes our second stop on the way to the Grand Canyon. I was disappointed when I saw that in order to go down 600 feet into Carlsbad Caverns, you have to drive up and up and up a 600 foot high hill. Why can't we just walk in at ground level? But that's neither here nor there. And speaking of there, Carmen is there this weekend, putting in a live ministerial appearance, instead of the satellite Carlsbad congregation's usual viewing of a DVD of Christine in Albuquerque.

So Friday I went to the theatre to use the shop tools (that don't cut square in either direction) to mill up the pieces I needed for a small (14" X 20" X 5" tall) platform for use by people shorter than Christine Robinson, senior minister at the First Unitarian Church of Albuquerque. That includes nearly everybody else in the congregation, including Carmen. Of course, when the discussions at the church came around to the need for a functional yet decorative platform, whose name do you think came up as someone who could build such a thing? Let's see... someone who knows how to build functional yet decorative platforms... someone with time on his hands... someone who is married to someone who could greatly benefit from this technology...

The shop was filled with baseboard and crown molding for Plaza Suite, which opened Friday night. As a courtesy, I asked Colby if he needed any help. He put me to work on baseboard, all around the set. It took me about three hours to measure, cut and install it all. That is when I became acutely aware of just how out-of-true the tools in the shop are.

By the time I was done with baseboard and with cutting pieces for the platform, the crown molding was still in my way, and sloppy wet with paint. I took the platform pieces home, grabbing a Dion's Special pizza on the way. MMMMMM good pizza!

Yesterday I began assembly in the garage. Problem: the framing pieces were so out of square that they were unusable. The good news: they were all just a little long. I utilized my square, a board and a top-bearing router, squared everything, and assembled the frame. The beautiful outer sides covering the frame and the crappy edge of the plywood were much closer to the right size, but still not very square. The mitred corners needed a lot of sanding to fit together halfway decent. One piece is an eighth of an inch too long. I have never before wished so hard for a sliding compound mitre saw as I have since yesterday afternoon. It has not yet appeared.

So I guess I'm going back to the theatre to cut this last board. Luckily, Rudy's Bar B Que is directly on the way back!

Two hours later....

I'm back! Good Q! Board fits. Platform done. House vacuumed and mopped. Laundry done. Sheets changed. Carmen comes home late tonight. Life is good.

Weakly

So maybe that's what I ought to do - think of Cat Juggler as a weekly thing? It is uncomfortable to think about how much there was to write about six months ago and how little there is now. But, as Chance says in "Being There", "There will be growth in the spring." Maybe so.

On Tuesday afternoon I set out on an adventure, to find the Erna Fergusson Library on San Mateo and take the test for Census Enumerators. I walked the quarter mile to the bus stop, caught the 3:49 #2 bus to Montgomery, caught the 4:18 #5 and rode it to San Mateo. From there I walked another quarter mile or so. The test was scheduled for 5:45. I arrived at the library at 4:45. I went for a walk, looking for something to eat. I found Mexican food, of course, but I was dressed nicely and didn't want anything sloppy or too spicy. There was greasy fried chicken. I kept walking until I was worried about making it back in time, and gave it up. I would eat after the test. I caught a #140 bus that dropped me off directly in front of the library. I located the room just as Carmen called to ask if I was done yet.

My tester guy was impressed with several things about me: a) I was the first one there; b) I had already filled out my application and I-9 form online; c)I used my passport as my ID; d) I was the best dressed guy in the room, dressed better than he was; e) I scored a 95% on the test. If he thought I was a shoe-in, it was because he hadn't read my application where it asks if I have the use of a vehicle. The truth is I would for some of the time, but not all, and not predictably. It may not make a huge difference, but the information on the website www.2010censusjobs.gov said that exceptions might be made for people who have no vehicle. If this opportunity falls in the recent normal range, there will be plenty of qualified applicants for whom no exceptions will need to be made. I am still hopeful.

After it was over I turned my phone back on and called Carmen. It was after 7:00 and she was dubious about my plan to make it home by bussing and walking. The #2 doesn't run after 6:00 and the best I could manage was to walk home two miles from Wyoming Avenue. She offered to pick me up at Target at Montgomery and Wyoming. I checked the schedule - the next #5 was in 40 minutes. I set out walking. That is how I learned that it takes 45 minutes to walk from San Mateo to Wyoming on Montgomery. It was a tie.

For some reason, yesterday I got all motivated and posted two Rand McNallys. I even started the story of our two weeks and two days with two cats on the road from Massachusetts to Albuquerque. Once I finish that one, I guess my next will be our move from Albuquerque to wherever in July.

BLOGGER by Google offers (for a fee) to turn your blog into a book. Maybe after I write the Abq to Wherever story, I'll check that out. The Gospel of Rand McNally would be fun to have sitting on the coffee table. Cat Juggler - not so much.

Aging Well?

Yesterday afternoon I left the theatre at 2:00 so I could be early for my appointment at Sandia Hearing Aid Center to be tested and fitted for ...wait for it... hearing aids! I have resisted this for a long time, but I grew up with a hearing impaired mother and I know the signs of creeping deafness. I also know how and why: routers, drills, circular saws, table saws, grinders, planers, compressors, staple guns, forklift engines... and for seven years I rode motorcycles to work every day. Add this to my Bicentennial Cherry Bomb tinnitus, and there you have a recipe for hearing loss.

I called Tuesday for the appointment due to some persuasion from the other human resident of the household. That night I was watching Sherlock Holmes on PBS and could barely follow the thread of the story, my hearing was so bad. The time had come for sure.

The folks at Sandia assure me that in a week or so, when my new hearing aids are installed, I will be amazed at how clearly everyone around me is speaking. I can't wait - people have been mumbling at me for a long time, the bastards!

Prognostication

It was purt-near six months ago that I started this thang. I had a lot to say back then - Albuquerque was new to us, I had old cat stories and other stories to tell; I couldn't wait to get to my computer and spend a couple of hours regaling you with my witty and fascinating postings.

Nowadays, I can't think of anything interesting to say. The stuff I would write about, Carmen's search for a congregation to minister to, is top secret stuff. I've been reading packets from congregational search committees and discussing my reactions and observations with Carmen, and now she has already gone to visit one and this weekend she goes to visit another. Three more are lined up for phone interviews. Who? Where? Can't say.

I went to see Colby down at the Albuquerque Little Theatre on Friday. The show after Plaza Suite is "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas," which requires a two-story set and a grand staircase up to the second floor. These things I've done before. I don't know when we'll get started, but I will probably help him get the Plaza Suite set - just a few stock walls, doors, windows etc. - put up so the actors can rehearse with it, then start on Texas.

So what I'm saying is, erratic as my postings have been lately, I believe the future holds even less promise. I'm going to let go of worrying about keeping it current. When the news breaks about where we are going in the summer, I'll give you the whole story, I promise. Of course the move itself will fall under the purview of The Gospel of Rand McNally.

One bit of news: I had my blood tested today and for the second time in a row my anti-coagulant level was in the zone: 2.2 INR. That's a very good thing. I don't test again for three weeks. Woo hoo!

Hmmmmmm

It's snowing.

Groundhog Shadows

It's a beautiful sunny day here in the mile high desert. It's forty eight degrees at 4:30 and expected to get down in the mid-thirties tonight. After four years in New England, I can easily stand six more weeks of this winter.

Part of the ongoing entertainment here is listening to the dire predictions by the media - massive winter storm approaching - huge amounts of snow - stay off the highways - and when the massive storm has moved on through, the roads are clear in less than an hour without plowing or salt, there is a dusting of snow, and it's all melted and dry by the end of the day. The most snow I've seen has been about three quarters of an inch.

This is what we call tempting fate. Well, come on, Fate, let's see whatcha got! I'm here for one winter, and it's nearly over. I've heard stories about three feet of snow in Albuquerque a few years ago. I've waded through three feet of snow in Massachusetts on numerous occasions, shoveled it out of the driveway, climbed over the plowed-up mountains of it to get to bus stops. You can't scare me with your stinkin' groundhog!