bob – Page 2 – A Jaunty Little Blog

December 31, 2023February 5, 2024

The Fates

Friends,

The end of 2023 is fast approaching. Even though the calendar year is an artificial construct, I’ll be glad to see the last hateful, hurtful, and mournful 365 days go away. Just to give you a taste, my father in-law died on the day before Christmas Eve and his widow fell and hit her head later that evening. We spent Christmas Eve morning in the Emergency Room, which led to her admission for a brain bleed. We made our way home and got a few hours of sleep before she was discharged (“I’m not sure why she’s here,” said the attending physician.) so we picked her up and took her to her apartment. Did she fall again that night?

Of course she did.

This time, we asked if she was in pain or bleeding, then asked the attending staff not to send her back to the hospital. This bought us a day to see Mom in the desert.

2023 has been an expensive year, a sad year, a dumb year, a hate-filled year, a violence-choked year, and a year that we must not forget. Remember 2022? It was pretty terrible and sad and dumb. 2021? Not great! Previously, I filled these pages with scratchy-eyed moping about how awful things had become and maybe we should simply stay in bed ¹. Not this year.

This year I’ve had it with the defeatism and dour predictions.

I’m just not having it from me or from you. This is our year to punch real-life nazis. The bad guys, who mostly identify as Republicans here in the United States, but not always, are trying to take away our rights so that their masters make more money and accrue more power. in 2024, we’ve got a job to do, vote them out and reinforce structures originally designed to keep thugs and autocrats away from power. Using the plain language of the Constitution’s Article 3 is a good start if we hope to keep insurrectionist off of the ballot.

It’s taken us 150 years to finish Reconstruction, but it looks like the time for half-measures and appeasement is over. Whatever we do is going to have to happen this year.

Yes, I’d rather lick my wounds and feel sorry and mourn and regroup, and I honestly hope that we have time for that soon, but this is going to be messy. The bad guys won’t respond to reason. Maybe they’ll respond to a solid pasting at the polls. That’s going to require all of us getting out there again.

Your pal,

– bob

¹ My Mom’s mother had suggested that if things got too rough or scary, the best solution was probably to stay in bed with the covers pulled up. That might not be the best advice these days (or even in those days, to be fair).

November 19, 2023

The Bastards

Dear friends,

It’s been a little while but I do need to make mention that woodpeckers are bastards.

– bob

October 6, 2023October 6, 2023

The Conceit

Friends,

It’s been a while, but I’ve been busy.

However, I have a plan. Two weeks ago I visited my piney paradise (more on how much I miss the forest tomorrow) and stopped by the local thrift shop. While there, I was thrilled to discover a 1964 Olivetti Lettera 32 that I promptly picked up. This was in service to satisfy my newfound desire to own a nice typewriter (this is news. – ed I don’t know if you missed this, but I haven’t posted anything new in quite a while.)

The new machine is going to replace the previous two typewriters I picked up solely because the typing effort on the other two is way too high—I really have to stab the keys on the Sears machine and the Smith Corona very hard to get anything on a page and that’s annoying.

So here’s the idea: I type out a post on paper, plop it into the scanner, then it shows up here. It seems fun to me. Gizmos, scripting, and old mechanical things. What could possibly go wrong?

– bob

September 9, 2023September 9, 2023

Where to begin…

Friends,

I had an idea, which is dangerous on its surface, but it turns out that this idea has been kind of expensive. The idea revolves around the idea of distraction-free writing. Which is in itself a misnomer. Who isn’t distracted by things? Dogs, coyotes breaking into the backyard trying to eat dogs, Nine Inch Nails suddenly popping up in the playlist, a smell, the garbage trucks playing catch-up from the holiday weekend speeding down the street. You get the idea. Life is hectic.

I thought that if I were to spend more time posting to this here endeavor, I could dig through the rubble of history to find a nice technological solution to get away from the social media and email notifications constantly ding-ding-dinging just in my periphery.

I thought that I might take advantage of one of the best compact keyboards from the mid-90s. None other than the Newton External Keyboard with a USB adapter.

It works great, but there’s that distraction again with the iPad happy to share notifications about EVERYTHING. Geez Karen, cool it.

Then I thought that I’d spend a little time resurrecting the trusty Palm Pilot. I already had the folding keyboard, so how hard could it be?

Hard enough. Palm desktop won’t install on Intel Macs. Palm Pilots of a certain vintage don’t have drivers for the keyboard built in, and Memo stinks as a writing tool. Also, getting files out is just as challenging as it is with the Apple Newton eMate. In either scenario, there needs to be an old computer sitting around as an intermediary. It doesn’t help that the more recent versions of macOS don’t play nice with Appletalk and the Apple Filing Protocol. Because, you know, progress.

Also, did the Palm Pilot screen get smaller? Just me? okay.

The answer for distraction-free writing, staring down all of us tech nerds, is the manual typewriter. Slamming slugs against an ink-drenched ribbon to leave some meaning behind. You’ve heard of it.

I got very silly and bought a couple machines through eBay. Machines that looked cool, but machines that I don’t like very much.

The key effort is too high for me and my now-noodly copywriter arms. Also, I wasn’t ready for the stadium layout of the keys. It turns out that I just don’t want to reach that high for the number row, since I’ve spent all this time on flat keyboards. I stopped by the Idyllwild Help Center today and found the machine everyone has been telling me I’d love—a mid-60s Olivetti Lettera 32. The key layout is nearly flat and the effort is so light that I could type on this thing all day.

It’s an absolute joy to type on, and once I put in a new ribbon, it should be a nice addition to the typing horde.

The plan is pretty simple(-ish). I have a sheet-feed scanner that I can connect to a computer that’s on most of the time. I’ll type a page, plop it into the scanner, and through some scripting I can recognize the text and save the image of the page, so everything just posts to the blog.

Like magic.

I guess we’ll see if that works when I post my first typed blog post.

The 20-something marketing experts offering advice on how to build audiences suggest not making promises in your blog that you can’t deliver. I can’t let them down, can I?

Actually, I don’t mind letting them down, but not you, dear reader. Let’s make this happen!

Your pal,

– bob

June 30, 2023

Creeping fascism, alarms, and the tyranny of zero

Friends,

Let’s dispense with the apologia and get right to it. (good luck with that. you’re feeling terrible right now, aren’t you? -ed Okay, I’m not feeling great about the time that’s passed since the last post, but I simply wanted to get on with it. Is that so wrong?)

I work for a company based in London, as do a half dozen other charming individuals here in the States. Most are on the Atlantic coast, while only three of us are here on the left side of the continent. Because several of my colleagues live in Florida, I take a moment from my work day to give them grief about their current governor. This person is also a presidential candidate, and is working very hard to be more cruel, more inhuman, more opposed to human life on this planet than his opponents. Essentially, the Republican party game plan. Here’s a data point:

Florida bill allowing radioactive roads made of potentially cancer-causing mining waste signed by DeSantis

Because I don’t understand messianic Christians and their deal, I don’t get the destruction of the planet in service of their belief in some sort of redemption by fire or apocalypse or whatever. I don’t get it. Further, while I have shifted my worldview to allow for people’s religions as a fun fandom that we should probably not subject to our scorn, I’m not nearly as sanguine about the hard-right Catholics on the US Supreme Court. They’ve issued opinions this week to take away rights from a large swath of the population. This week, at the end of their nutso decision-making and making up stuff, they let us know that we shouldn’t criticize them for their highly partisan decisions.

In my country, we have a saying; “You need to go fuck yourselves.”

The modest proposals to fix this, to add four more justices—with 13 justices to coincide with the 13 circuit courts—still hasn’t gained the support of the president. Madness.

Maybe he’d prefer my plan, adding 50 justices, selecting a baker’s dozen for each case via lottery. It’s reasonable, which is why they won’t do it.

What’s left? The destruction of this democracy through the machinations of fascists and would-be fascists in Florida, Wisconsin, Ohio, and too many other places. It’s hard to be encouraged here. The only thing we can do is to keep them out of power.

That’s it.

Let’s go!

Your pal,

– bob

April 18, 2023June 30, 2023

It Fills Your Heart

Friends,

Sometimes an offhand comment just hits you. My sweet wife and I were driving North on the first leg of our Spring vacation (because there needs to be a lot of them this year, so I’m holding out hope that they’re at least seasonal). We were winding our way through a stand of trees and she simply said, “I know it sounds corny, but this—the trees—they fill my heart. They fill it back up. Is that weird?” I had felt the same thing, but didn’t know how to put it into words. When your job is to make things up and write them down, that’s a big problem, but I felt it too.

Maybe there’s a point when the trees, the scale of the forest here, can help us remember the words. Maybe the sea air, the waves crashing, the salt spray, can clean up the mess on aisle five left by pandemics and rancor and a shoe that stubbornly refuses to drop.

No, it isn’t weird. Yes, it fills my heart too.

Your best pal,

– bob

April 4, 2023

Are You Not Entertained?

Friends,

The workload over the past several days has been sparse, so I have offered my time to assist my colleagues in the UK with their projects. Knowing that they probably don’t have anything ready to go, I’ve been adding some other service in Microsoft Teams, like picking paint colors or offering dinner suggestions. Today, I offered a bedtime story, which they enthusiastically requested.

I’d like to present it to you as it was presented to them, so I’m going to supply screen shots with the story in ALT text. That way, if you have a screen reader, you can follow along.

I flavor the story early in the chat with the post image you see at the top. Okay, here we go…

(Since I was also in a video call, it took a little while to finish up. My colleagues were not amused.)

And that, dear friends, is a fun way to entertain a group of jaded copywriters in the middle of a meeting.

Your pal,

– bob

April 3, 2023April 3, 2023

Tuning The Carbs

Friends,

I just got off the phone with a nutritionist named Jeanine who shared some things, like if one has diabetes, one must be very conscious of carbohydrates. I learned this from my Dad, who offered this advice, “Stay away from white food.” Before you imagine that he was referring to potato salad with raisins (ew. – ed), he meant rice, potatoes, and bread. 60 grams of carbohydrates a day. That’s my “budget.” Not a lot for me, since I love a good potato chip every now and again.

Jeanine also noted that I’m barely getting half of the exercise I should be putting in every week. If I have any desire to lose weight, it’s 300 minutes of exercise each week, at minimum. I’m thinking of starting here and building up to a more serious regimen. The problem is that I can’t seem to get started.

You know, maybe I should treat it as a nice way to mix up the routine.

Now that I think about it, another way to mix up the routine would be to fix a certain sad and broken Jeep languishing in my garage. (isn’t there also a sad and broken jeep in your driveway as well? – ed Yes. I’m reminded of that fairly regularly, but this is a different story.)

My fine Jeep Commando is a lot of fun to drive, but it’s sort of a pain to keep running. Slowly, I’m working on that problem. Now that electric cars are slated to take over from hydrocarbon-burning transportation, replacement carburetors are remarkably cheap. If you don’t believe me, look for regular, non-performance carburetors at Amazon, or Summit Racing, or Rock Auto. Those remanufactured carbs are pretty cheap, because the bet is that they’ll soon be obsolete. That calculus may be a little premature, but I’ll take it.

I also took the opportunity to replace the points in the distributor with a Pertronix unit. It’s a Hall-effect pickup that replaces the points and fits inside the distributor cap. That should take care of the “go” but I still need to address to the “whoa.” (seriously? -ed It was too good to pass up.)

Also, there might be some large holes in the floor…

Nothing that can’t be fixed, right?

Right?

Your pal,

– bob

February 1, 2023

I Appreciate You

Friends,

It’s the first of February, which is not necessarily notable since it’s an entire day before my birthday, but I’ve got a moment so let’s have at it.

Things have been happening here in America’s 23rd Most Disappointing City (did you make that up? -ed I sure did, but I’m gonna go with it for a while. What could be worse than not being the best at being the worst?). In-laws have been falling and going to the emergency room. Moisture fell out of the sky and filled up the back yard, drowning the lawn. Moisture fell out of the sky over the Secret Alpine Laboratory, which looks nicer…

The security cameras there captured the scene, but I haven’t been there for a solid month. This hurts my heart, to be completely honest. We may go Friday if the in-laws don’t fall again.

Sigh.

Speaking of security cameras, some of them are old and crap, so they need more light. Nowadays, Wi-Fi-connected lightbulbs can provide the needed lumens, but how to tell them apart? I’ve found that giving IoT devices cute names is annoying when issuing voice commands…

“Hey Siri, turn on The Light Colloquially Known As Sir Harriot Blammo VonDinkle”

Instead, I added pictures—and a deep sigh.

Ahh, that’s better.

Your pal,

– bob

January 10, 2023January 11, 2023

It’s The Little Things and The Big Things

Friends,

I haven’t been ignoring this here endeavor as much as I’ve been actively putting off updates. You’ll quietly wonder why and I’ll go ahead and tell you.

It’s all been too much.

Holidays, houseguests, dealing with other people’s illnesses, staying busy at work in spite of the year-end lull, and getting a new roof installed on two houses has all done a number on my psyche.

What’s one to do but let things settle down and wait for some inspiration to come. Well, that inspiration has arrived and it’s a real mess.

We’ve known each other for a while now, so it won’t shock you to learn that I try to know at least a little something about a lot of things. I also try to know a lot of things about a couple things so that I can gain some expertise in a subject, but also because constantly referring to reference materials makes me lose focus. Trap the facts in the buffer, get the job done quickly, and everybody’s happy.

I’ve recently started, due to lower ad spending at the end of this year, reading more about this here copywriting craft. I’m trying to learn more about who’s good, who’s not, why they’re considered good or not, and things I can do to get better. One of the paths to writing better copy (if you believe the current thinking) is not to write at all, but use an artificially-intelligent bot instead.

Mme. Puppy Dog and I both agree that using an AI is a remarkably bad idea unless I have an aching desire to appear redundant. Since this would impact the steady flow of kibble from the store to Madame’s belly, she disapproves.

Social Media (plural)

The world record holder for losing the most personal wealth in history has some abhorrent views and some abhorrent friends. I thought it’d be neat to move off of his bird service and migrate my social media attentions to some of the other services that aren’t Facebook or Instagram. The problem is that I can’t seem to settle on one that feels like a good fit.

I wanted to like Mastodon, but their web interface is pretty hectic. Tapbots is beta testing a client and I’ll look into that when it’s baked, but it’s not happening for me yet.

I’m also on Post.news and cohost.org in addition to my existing ello account. They’re really not scratching that itch of having a mass of fun people, delivering the latest news, and rapid updates. Maybe I’ll split my time between here and Substack.

As always, I appreciate your thoughts (unless they’re mean, spam, mean spam, or spam in a foreign language, then they’re deleted).

Your pal,

– bob

September 29, 2022September 29, 2022

What’s All Dat?

Friends,

It’s been a little while, hasn’t it? Since we last convened, I have injured my back rather severely, gone on a three-day work trip to New Orleans, Louisiana, adopted and brought back to life a very slow and very charming old computer, and I’m getting ready to put a roof on The Secret Alpine Laboratory. I also have very bad news about the Idyllwild Weather Clam that I can no longer suppress. Sufficiently teased? Great!

Remember to stretch

I thought that storm waters were flowing under the stem wall into the crawlspace under the cabin. Add some dirt, and the resulting mud flow had swamped some stacked drywall and lumber. Their stinky and moldy corpses were immediately punted to the landfill. However, it wasn’t local flooding at all. The problem was a perforated iron drain pipe from the kitchen sink. I cut it out, removed the mud, and jammed everything back into the garage.

Now, when I need to move equipment out, I’m navigating over a couple welders, around dead batteries, and through a narrow passage before I get them through the door. It’s tight and the obstacles are stabby. I grabbed the miter saw to chop the new custom threshold that was the wrong size. The first injury must’ve made a cartoon “sproing!” noise inside my back somewhere in the neighborhood of T10 or T11. The second part, where I turned the wrong way while still carrying the saw surely sounded like a Spanish galleon running aground on the rocky shores of L5-S1. I wouldn’t know because all I could see was white and all I could smell was pain.

That was on Labor Day.

Economy class

Three days later, I was on a plane headed for New Orleans to meet my coworkers in person for the first time. It’s hard to fault United Airlines for wanting to crowd as many people in each plane as possible. After all, the industry has received billions of dollars in loans and relief from American taxpayers over the last decade. They’re hurting for cash!

I haven’t been on a plane since our honeymoon before the pandemic. Since then, the seats have been moved even closer together, the cushions replaced with ones that are much thinner. Would the pain meds kick in soon? Maybe they already had and the pain from the back injury, plus the seats, plus the knees belonging to the woman seated behind me, was actually much greater than this.

This was the theme for the entire trip, unfortunately.

I had to plan ahead for every walking adventure. Is it too far? Can I make it back to the hotel on foot or will I have to call for a ride? After checking in at the hotel, I left to meet everyone who had arrived first and it was like old friends picking up where we’d left off. Except we’d never met in person. It’s a good group and we had a lot of laughs.

Even the next day, when we ventured out to hit a particular tourist spot, everybody had a great time.

Team building exercises, cajun bánh mì for lunch (You didn’t know that was a thing, did you?), then dinner at The Roosevelt. A packed schedule, for sure. The next day was just as packed. Vegetarian eggs benedict (Cajun style, ‘natch), quality time in an escape room, then off to the return trip home.

A funny thing happened on the way back. Same planes, but they were only half full. It took two planes to get home and both flights had a lot of empty seats, including the middle seat. I could spread out, stretch, and stop whimpering about the persistent back pain which had not relented.

It wasn’t until 10:30 or so that evening that I finally got home and was greeted by the welcoming committee.

Is this the party to which I am speaking?

Before I left on my trip, I won an auction for this little nugget…

Yes, that’s right. It’s an Apple Newton eMate 300 portable computer, from your childhood. This one seems to be in remarkably good shape, even though the battery was as flat as can be. It ran for about five minutes after a full charge, complaining about imminent automatic shutdown after two. Back to ebay for a five dollar nickel-metal hydride battery pack intended for a baby monitor. It’s the right shape, I just transferred the temp sensor so the charging circuit can detect if it’s overheating.

It’s that thing under the tape in the center of the batteries. Peel it off, cut the power leads and solder on the new ones. Stick the sensor down on the new pack and tape everything back together. Not only easy, but also peasy.

Now there’s the small problem of getting the thing to talk to any of the modern computers around here. Modern like the Clamshell iBook, or the 12-inch G4 Stuntbook. I installed the software and adapted the adapters, but still get a “can’t communicate with this computer” message. I’m stumped.

Cement pond

You know the old chestnut about how the cobbler’s children go barefoot? I never truly believed it, myself. Who’s going to raise a family with a fruit crumble? Absurd. (unless it’s peach. i love a peach cobbler. -ed)

Even though my Dad built pools for a living, he did next to nothing to repair the swimming pool at the family home. The tile was falling off, plaster cracked, diverter valves frozen in place, wiring strapped to piece of plywood held up by a single rusty nail. It was a real mess, but he was unwilling and later unable to do anything about it.

Since his passing, Mom has taken on the big projects, like rehabbing the pool. I have to say that it looks great.

An added bonus is that I’m the first person to actually go for a swim since its rehabilitation. I’m happy to report that it’s great. Wouldn’t change a thing.

The Sad and Tragic Demise of Big Fine Salty Mountain Tide Pool

As you know, we’ve been dealing with a longstanding drought here in California brought about by climate change. I’ve been doing my part to solve the problem, but not enough, apparently. Our gal, the Idyllwild Weather Clam was nowhere to be found when I arrived at my Secret Alpine Laboratory to have the roof replaced. Her tidepool was a dry and desolate place, since we’ve had next to no rain this summer and she has apparently packed up and left. Yet another climate refugee, I fear.

If you hear from her, please ask her to call and let her know that I put more minutes on her prepaid phone.

If only she had waited

Why am I still here at the Lab, you ask? The gigantic and very expensive roofing job had to be postponed for most of this week due to torrential downpours. A inch and a half of rain on Sunday and another inch yesterday. It’s enough to spook a roofer, so we start tomorrow, and by “we” I mean “they” start tomorrow. My involvement is to keep a fire extinguisher nearby and to see if my noise-cancelling headphones are good for anything beyond plane travel.

Whew! That was a lot. I’ve been having trouble with my web host, so this may not post correctly. Cross your things for good luck.

Your pal,

– bob

July 29, 2022August 18, 2022

How Much Is Too Little? Edition

Friends,

As you know, I’m currently working for the 8th largest B2B marketing communications firm (by billings) in the UK and I’m dead chuffed about it. (a bit gratuitous, innit? – ed See? You’re doing it now. It’s infectious.) However, problems pop up in any new job and in this job, because it’s completely remote, it’s hard to get a read on people. What I tend to do in these situations, and stop me if this seems very familiar, is overcompensate. “Oh no!” I hear you exclaim, beating your chest and tearing at your garments. “How can this possibly be so! Haven’t you learned your lessons?” To which I reply, “Was that supposed to be plural?” And you answer in chorus, “Yes, plural.”

so be it.

I’ve learned some lessons, like when to sit down and write about it before I dig myself the deepest hole. And that brings us to now, and the current problem is this: Is it my job to jam mildly-spiced words into a casing to be boiled, sliced, and served to a mildly interested public in order to tick a box on a marketing communications manager’s spreadsheet of monthly deliverables? Or is it my job to bring the training and knowledge I’ve gained over several decades to develop engaging narrative to compel the reader and bend them to my will?

Well? Is it that one?

After being told recently that my work was too esoteric, too cerebral, and also that my work was too formulaic, stodgy, like a datasheet, I went a little overboard. I thought I’d see if I could get more love from colleagues if I started being more “wacky.” This did not go well.

Then I buttoned things down and asked colleagues for reports on target demographics and the results from previous campaigns. This continued my streak of not winning any friends.

So here I sit, at a loss as usual. I’m also grateful for the opportunity to report that this is the worst of my problems.

Not so bad, eh wot?

Your best pal,

– bob

June 15, 2022June 15, 2022

A Roof Over Our Heads

Friends,

This is the story of two houses. One built in a tract of single family homes during the early 1970s suburban speculation boom. The other built as a vacation getaway in a small mountain resort town during the late 1940s post-war construction boom. Both houses need a new roof.

The 50-year old house needed its red asphalt composite shingle roof replaced 20 years ago and the owners did what any self-respecting cheapskate did in the 90s—cover the red shingles with gray shingles. Now that those shingles have failed (curling, tabs breaking off, whole sections breaking off and flying away), we needed to do something.

The 75-year old house has, apparently, only had its issues addressed once (omg). At that time, the cedar shingles were covered with asphalt composite shingles. I suspect that this wasn’t necessarily to address leaks, but to satisfy a nervous insurance agent trying to justify renewing a policy deep in the urban/wilderness interface. Well, it leaks now, so we need to do something.

There are a lot of roofing contractors servicing the area surrounding the 50-year old house. We read good recommendations for a fellow named Ray. We had a chat, and he agreed to do the work for ten and a half thousand dollars, give or take. Okay, that’s not entirely true. There’s no take, and after the additional carpentry that needed to be done, we gave up a couple thousand more, and after maybe 12 hours of work, they were packed up and gone. The results are just right too. Right color, right amount of fuss (none). If you need a roof, call Ray.

If you’ve taken this cue to stand in your front yard yelling, “RAY!” He’s probably not going to answer. Send me an email instead, and I’ll give you his contact information.

The problem with the 75-year old house, which you might remember as my Secret Alpine Laboratory, is that there’s nothing under the cedar shingles. They’re nailed to thin wood stringers spanning the roof joists, and that’s it.

To put on a new roof, the asphalt shingles, the tar paper, the cedar shingles, whatever paper is underneath that, and the stringers come down. Then, the new roofer who is not Ray will do all of the math and cover the steep pitches and deep valleys with plywood. Although the square footage is nearly identical to the younger structure, the cost is estimated to be over double.

That job hasn’t happened yet, but I’ve sent a very large deposit. This adult stuff is nerve-wracking.

Your very best pal,

– bob

June 13, 2022

Two Sentences From A Book – Gold Rush Edition

In a triumphant return to the Internet, The New, New Jaunty Little Players proudly present a passage from a treasure trove of the printed word delivered by a uniformed government official to this very location.

Ladies and gentlemen, please do doff your headwear and keep both hands in the ride.

It’s Two Sentences From A Book!

Hunter danced along with Fay in his arms, profound love for her throbbing in his heart, and wished he might tell her, in a way she would understand, just what might be in store for her at the hands of this group.
“May I, Miss Curry?” Potter said, and stood before her in his most respectful pose.

Thank you! Oh, you’re too kind!

Your pal,

– bob

April 26, 2022April 26, 2022

A Tree Grows There

Friends,

My Dad took warnings about the drought pretty seriously. Actually, he took the price increases imposed by the local water district seriously and he decided that he should allow the landscaping in the front of his house to go fallow. Sure, the city threatened to fine my parents for failing to landscape the front yard. Dad’s answer was a mix of, “dirt is desert landscaping,” but more often that he would get around to it soon enough.

When Mom called asking for suggestions on what to do with the front yard, I suggested a fruit tree. A grapefruit tree would be ideal for the shade they provide, but enjoying the fruit is a no-go. Maybe an orange or tangelo? Something full-grown, so we won’t have to worry about maintenance from a distance. I even offered to pay for a tree to be delivered and planted.

So Mom picked out a Palo Verde, which is not a fruit tree.

I still paid for it and tried to make planting day into an event, which didn’t happen. A neighbor suggested that the tree be a memorial to my Dad. I’ll leave a determination on that to your best judgement.

Your best pal,

bob