I don’t know how you find a balance between chipping away at bath tile vs. the music of Nick Black. I’ll take the latter over the former. That likely applies to Ellen and Reid, too.
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September 28, 2015
Ellen/Reid: Ellen, thanks for stepping up on the decor of the guest bath. I like what you’ve suggested so far, and the demolition should start this week although I suspect there’s a fair amount of drywall work in my future. The project – I remind you, nothing is ever as simple as it seems – will keep me preoccupied and that’s a good thing. Plus what’s in there now is passé, dull, boring, old, decrepit or however you want to call it. The plumber is on call to help. At least the floor and the tub tile will stay. I’d given some thought to stone on the tub walls, but after all, it is a tub. You’re probably right about the gray on the walls vs. the white of the sink. That would upgrade the look of the space from the god-awful lilac hue. How the hell did someone come up with that?
It was finally Miller Time after hammering away at old floor tile one chunk at a time. My friend Jody reminded me there are power tools that could’ve shortened my torture. So now he tells me.
The framed mirror above the sink is a good idea, too. I wish I’d kept all the plumbing samples sent to me when I was writing for the Assoc. Press. Those would come in handy right about now. Kohler looks to be the fixtures of choice for the sink and the toilet. I’ll wander over to a showroom to see what there might be on the market from Grohe but won’t hold my breath. Now, all I’ll need are some visitors and guests to use it once it’s done.
Really saw an odd thing on Friday. For some reason I was staring absentmindedly out the window (that happens a lot) and here comes this 5 – 6 inch feather slowly floating upward and parallel to the ground as if it’s on an elevator. It was caught in some sort of updraft and continued its ascent past the window and out of sight toward the roof. It was the most bizarre thing I’ve ever seen.
The other bizarre scene was a dismal crowd for one of the best young musicians I’ve seen in years, a kid named Nick Black from Tennessee. He and his band were at a local joint called the Double Door which allegedly bills itself as a premier music spot. There were only eight people to hear this incredible performance.
Nick Black can flat out bring it on stage. A handful of appreciative listeners and he brought it like a pro. This kid is good.
The five piece group had driven all the way just to be there and then to have eight folks. It was pathetic. That’s what’s nuts about the music scene in Charlotte. It’s flat at best, and weak most of the time. I don’t quite get it. I plunked $20 in the tip jar plus got a CD. They were headed up the way to Raleigh for the next night and I hope they had at least a double digit crowd. They deserved it. I sent a note to management of the Double Door, and they responded about how tough it was to attract crowds.
For the first time ever, I downloaded music from the iTunes store. It worked okay, but somehow my playlist keeps disappearing on my iPhone. I bought 20-some songs and they all showed on the initial list, but while songs would play the music would suddenly stop and multiple songs would disappear from the list. Maybe I’m just an idiot but this doesn’t seem a very user-friendly approach on Apple’s part. You can also call me the original late adopter. Nothing unusual in that. I am probably the last adult to download music. Reid, I remember your 10,000 song Napster days. Ask Tim if he has any answers. Reid, you gotta help your father out here.
The summer garden is maxed out. Time to plant winter greens. We had a misty, rainy weekend and I’ll let the pots dry out a bit before yanking the tomato and basil and planting new seeds.
Bought some new Levis over the weekend and my waist is now 32 with some room to spare. Ellen, I think it’s the almond milk and just flat out eating less. Lots of fruit and smoothies. I dunno. But it feels okay for now.
Alright, over and out. I’m on the Thanksgiving plans as we speak. Tickets on me.
Love, Dad
The Weight of a Single Page 