Where's Hazel? Pet Hazel. Hazel needs her dreadlocks
trimmed.
One Week After The Shit Hit The Fan
Ops Normal at The Cat Drag'd Inn. Volunteer work at
Buckeye Food Bank unchanged except they are not taking any
donations so not as much to do. Hurricane Hazel-Rah's nap
schedule continues as usual. Taco Tuesday on hold.
Thank you both for reading and writing. Beyond what I wrote
in my my Vernal Equinox Letter
I'm doing Ok otherwise. Here in the desert of East Tonopah I
have plenty to do picking up the trash and watching the
wildflowers bloom. Today's projects include changing the
stop lights in the bus–better visibility if I ever get on
the road this Summer–replacing a water pipe that was broken
by the trencher with a hose that might last a few weeks, and
planting some aloe–two varieties–that are getting too big
for the garden. I might also remember to clean and debug the
dome light door switches in TinyTruck, a minor annoyance
since I hardly drive at night, especially in the Summer.
Ditto about being retired tho I try not to admit to that
much. "Student" is what I usually enter in that
What-Are-You-Doing category. Either way, Student or Retired,
I'm in the mid-range of the high risk group. So far at least
most of the cases in Maricopa County are young adults, that
invincible stupid know-it-all Republican sector of the
population bomb. [Applicable Aphorism #42: When you're
17, you know everything. When you're 27, if you still
know everything you're still 17.] I have a box of
ear-loop-masks, a box of Latex gloves, and a tub of
disinfecting wipes for when I do my four hours a week
volunteering at the Food Bank. The masks are of little use
other than giving me pause when I try to sip coffee or pick
my nose; combing my beard just so and spraying with honey is
likely more effective.
This Will Be Old News By The Time You Get To Read...
But for the historical record: "Meanwhile we are being
forced to confront some of the strangest darkest
implications of our national mindset in which market
worship threatens to become a fucking death cult."
April 3... Having my pie and eating some as well.
"I do not know what I may appear to the world; but to myself
I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the seashore,
and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother
pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great
ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me."
–Sir Isaac Newton [my 5th
great-uncle]
If you can keep your waistline when those about you are
losing theirs, you just might pick up a spare pair of
brand-name jeans. –ajo's corollary
And writing of pie, or in
this case, cake... See also Wikipedia for the
Natural Number 79. The link will take you to a
Disambiguation Page where you want to choose 79 (number).
Over the past few years I have selected (or had selected for
me) theme songs: 76
Trombones, 77
Sunset Strip and the WABC
Station ID Jingle, 33-45-78. This
year there are two more: Eilen Jewell - 79
Cents (The Meow Song), and this particular
rendition of I
Don't Look Good ... Anymore. [Sorry about the
commercials...]
My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last
the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends–
It gives a lovely
light!
–[cousin] Edna
St.Vincent Millay, 1920
 This is the week of the face mask.
Time was if you walked into the bank wearing a mask they'd
call the cops, now if you walk into the bank NOT wearing a
mask they call the cops.
To wear a mask or not to wear a mask; that is the question.
And the debate goes on. And if you make your own what should
be the material? Old tee shirt? Surely not white or blue,
someone might confuse your handiwork with that of a
professional. Or perhaps they would confuse you with a
professional. Using my grandmother's 1923 Singer I made a
mask of some unbleached muslin I brought back from a fabric
factory during my sojourn in Erode in 1995. (see near the
bottom of Oso
con Migo Meets Ganesh ) My mask is a sort of off white
with scarlet nose bridge and ties. Should be no mistaking
this for a professional. After a while of wearing this I'll
have an entirely new tan line.
“America faces an epic choice in the coming year, and
the results will define the country for a generation. These
are perilous times. Over the last three years, much of what
[we used to hold] dear has been threatened – democracy,
civility, truth. This administration has cleared out science
and scientists across all departments. Anger and cruelty
disfigure public discourse and lying is commonplace. Truth
is being chased away.” –The
Guardian, US Edition. And now for something completely
different. Ticket
Without a Seat. Good surprise ending.
This morning I was obliged to get on the road at oh-dark-30
to the local (15 miles) Fry's for their 0600 opening for
geezers and other "at risk" persons. Toilet Paper was at the
top of the very important get-this-first list. I thought I'd
be early and arrived at ten til 6 to find the line was
already longer than the storefront was wide. Sign said
"Maintain One Cart Length..." so most folks had a cart in
front of them. I suppose cos the hour was to early to be
estimating.
The doors opened and the line commenced to move. Inside a
few folks peeled off to Produce and Dairy but most
maintained the queue and the train of carts snaked through
the aisles to Paper Products. There I found I couldn't find
my favourite brand. All sorts of off-brand product. Even the
store brand was MIA. Perusing the labels was a trial. All
the gobbledygook about scents and plies and jumbo and
cleaning-action obfuscated the required phrases “Septic
Safe” and “Approved for RVs”. In the meantime stuff was
disappearing from the shelves faster than I could make up my
mind. Finally I grabbed a four-roll pack that boasted 100%
Recycled and beat a hasty retreat.
An hour later the adventure was repeated at the neighbouring
Wal-Mart. Only fifty people where permitted in the store at
a time. Something about 36 square feet divided into the
store-area-aisle-area. A Counter/Uncounter guarded the door
with local constabulary backup. There I did find a product
that had the magic words “Septic Safe” and they were limited
to one package per household.
So I'm good for a few more weeks before I have to again face
"The New Normal" of life in a Third World Country. What are the
alternatives? How close are we to the tipping point
into anarchy?
 Has Anyone Seen The Bagger?
AridZona hasn't banned plastic bags yet but they have made
plastic baggers hard to get. Here, at Fry's, if you bring
your own totes the cashier will tell you, from the other
side of the hockey puck Lexan barrier, you have to do your
own bagging. I've mostly been doing my own bagging all along
I tell them: More often than not there is not bagger around
anyhow, at least not one who knows their stuff—like not to
put the dish soap on top of the Tomatoes-On-The-Vine. So I
just take my time, letting the line back up, whilst a bagger
is called who then has to fight with gloves too small and
maintain one cart-length of space. The Wal-Mart here, with
all their connexions to China, must have seen this situation
coming last year. They have closed all their old fashioned
human-staffed checkout lanes and replaced them with
Scan-&-Go. You do the scanning and you do the bagging
and you do the paying and the going. There are masked clerks
riding around on broomsticks who will fly over to do the
Age-I.D verification over-ride, should you scan an
age-restricted product. That part you are not allowed to do
your Self. (However: If they were to connect their scanners
to the DMV server then you could do the Age-Check your Self
with your driver license and they could put one more clerk
out of a job.)
Tax Day to May Day
A confusing time for sure. So much of my dates and plans are
up in the air. At this moment I am in Tonopah, tied down in
Paul's back yard. We have plumbed The Cat Drag'd Inn
to Paul's 200 gallon propane tank so I don't need to haul
gas bottles to the propane store every few weeks. The
connexion is with a hose so I can disconnect and escape
whenever the nuke plant sirens alarum.
Things being as they are I am not sure about migrating to
Pie Town. Perhaps the biggest issue is that my HMO does not
work outside of Maricopa County short of a “prearranged
emergency”. I'm partly waiting for the All Clear on the
travel restrictions in AridZona and New Mexico. Partly the
food bank is an essential industry and I am somewhat useful
there tho not at all essential. Then there is/was, before
the shit hit the fan, some desire to go to Wyoming for a
June rally of the Escapees Residence Vehicle Club. They have
yet to cancel but failing that there is the Western Naturist
Gathering near Yuma in late June. Really matters not since I
have already spent about all my fuel money on a set of AGM
batteries to replace the old house batteries. And then,
being this is an election year, there is primary voting in
August. Poll worker jobs pay 12$/hour, ten hour days for
most of a week usually. All the more reason to stay here and
work. All in all that adds up to likely not going to Pie
Town. Or only going for a few weeks in Augtober.
Yesterday afternoon was the first time since whenever that
there was more than none packages of TP on the shelf at my
grocer's. Stupefied shoppers, properly maintaining One
Shopping Cart Length between them, were standing around in
awe!
Yesterday morning I went for a walk and found this nest in
an old saguaro. Three chicks watched me walk to and fro
looking for a vantage. Mommy Red Tail came around to collect
a modeling fee. Afternoon temperatures this week and last
have been mostly 100f to 104f. Today, Sinko
de Mayo, the high is 105f. Two air conditioners are
keeping The Cat Drag'd Inn habitable. I am
considering using my Pacification Payment to boost a third
one and use my Summer in Pie Town Fuel Savings to pay the
electric bill to stay in Tonopah.
 Revenge of The Sixth
Every so often I see something about the decline of
handwriting. Usually articles focus on how writing has been
supplanted by newer, digital forms of communication—typing,
texting, Facebook, Snapchat. Sort of like cameras that have
been usurped by phones doubling as calendars. In 2015, Bic
launched a campaign to “save handwriting.” Named “Fight
for Your Write,” it includes a pledge to “encourage
the act of handwriting” in the pledge-taker’s home and
community, and emphasizes putting more of the company’s
ballpoints into classrooms.
WNDWD, 13th June
World Naked Gardening Day has
nothing on us. Herewith is the Official Announcement of a
New Holiday: World Naked Dish Washing Day! Mark the Second
Saturday in June on your calendar for next year and send me
a note a few days ahead so I can be sure to have a few dirty
dishes ready. "I'm getting so forgetful, soon I'll be
able to hide my own Easter eggs."
–Ann Richards
Mother's Day
 First Mother, Second Mother, Other Mothers, and
all my sisters and Sisters: Greetings and Happy
Mother's Day! Over the years I have particularly
counted on my Other Mothers to be recipients of my Mother's
Day Greetings when I was away from my First Mother.
(FMOTOC?) Mothers are very important even when disguised in
wrappers of another gender or relationship. My First Mother
has long since gone to the Great KaffeKlatch with the Cosmic
Muffin so I must now rely even more on my Other Mothers. One
never outgrows one's need for a Mum.
Once upon a long ago after-school when my brothers were out
in the yard smoking, (smoke 'em if you got 'em but if you
touch mine I'll break your fingers!, she used to say.) and
imbibing their contraband beers, a neighbour-lady called our
house to inquire if my mother had seen her son. My mother
looked out the window and allowed as how this
neighbour-lady's son "...as well as several others are out
there smoking and drinking with my kids..." "How can
you let them do that"? Neighbour-Lady exclaimed! "How do you
put up with that behaviour?" And FMOTOC calmly replied: "At
least I know where my kids are." That lesson has been
one of my guiding principles ever since. Although of late I
am not so sure of where I am, or where I am headed. Thank
you all for being, mother or not.
 Newly into my 20s when I was still
living "at home" but rooming near a job site my Other Mother
was my best friend's Mom, Mrs Marchando. At a later time
there was Sparky's mother when he was a kid in my Scout
group. Later, after my First Mother died, my cousin Joan
filled that role until she died a few years ago. Now as "I'm
supposed to respect my elders, but it's getting harder and
harder for me to find one..." Nita fills that gap but in a
more sisterly way in Pie Town and here there is Sue who says
"we are family". I'm glad Mother Nature is a talented lady;
I'm not sure I could take it if she were a woman.
My First Mother was a very special Human. I like to believe
that she showed me how to be self-reliant. I know she
introduced me to books and crossword puzzles and one
particular game of solitaire. I know she showed by her own
example how to be of service to others–today I spend a lot
of my time picking up the trash people leave along the
roads.
In The Betweens
One day to help a fellow Ham Radio friend with an antenna
tower derection. Mike took the pictures whilst I climbed the
tower. Another day to walk to the red tail hawk nest and see
how big the chicks were getting. Another day to pick up five
bags of trash along Beer Party Road out back  here. The Cat Drag'd Inn has
been sitting still so long that a spider has taken up
residence in the instrument panel.
 Aut Visum Aut Non
Concerning
The Marvels. I have finished the tome of that
title and want to thank Brian Selznick for his writing and
Eric for his suggestion. A very most excellent storey. Also
I want you all to know that the top edge gilt (and the side
edge and the bottom edge too) gold(?) trim on the pages are
some real metal. I learned that the other night when the top
corner of several of the pages ruffled against a charged
bug-zapper as I was reading my Self to sleep. I keep the
bug-zapper close to hand for when moths are attracted to my
reading light. In this instance the several pages got zapped
and the moth escaped. Thank you Mr Selznick for your
artistry and I am sure the lucky moth thanks you as well.
I had only one father. Lots of tutors and mentors but only
one father. I think my father's most important lesson was
how to catnap standing up. I've been trying to pass the
technique on to Hurricane Hazel-Rah as standing might help
her when stalking a mouse.
I've received my Pacification Payment and spent most of the
money quickly. Just in case.
 Nita sent a photo of the pair of family
heirloom silver candlesticks she'd asked me to repair. One
had been used as a prop in a reenactment of a Clue script
and was seriously bent out of shape. Here they are, all
repaired and shined, on display in her museum of family
heirlooms. Click on the photo for a closeup.
For the most part, business as usual at The Cat Drag'd
Inn. “Social
Distancing” and Isolation
are All Normal Ops here. Insolation
is up, along with the ambient temperature. Insulation
leaves a lot to be desired however two a/c units are
keeping the internal temperature survivable. Most egregious
is that the local hot spring has curtailed access to their
soaking tubs. Volunteering at Saint Mary's Food
Bank has changed slightly, there are not so many
things to test and fix since donations are off so I am at
times busied with landscaping and storey telling. A
twice-a-month Food Pantry has started up in Tonopah that
provides more access to comestibles and opportunities to
practice essential insanities. One particular item of
interest there last week was a pallet of Hecho en
Mexico Coca Cola. What's so special about that? The
Mexican Coca Cola is made with sugar. Real sugar. Cane
sugar. And is packaged in a real glass bottle that requires
strong
teeth (or a
proper tool) to open. There's no accounting for taste.
Beyond Summer Solstice
Events conspire to keep me here for the most part, prob'ly,
at the rate things are going, for all the parts. I'm
concerned that with my HMO medical insurance being useful
only in Maricopa County I really should stay close at least
until there is some dependable herd immunity. Then there is
a matter of paying work. During the past few years I have
been involved with being a poll worker. Depending on how far
this country slides into anarchy, or if we don't break out
into full scale civil insurrection, the primary voting at
the end of July offers an opportunity to read several books
in air conditioned comfort and earn a few hundred dollars at
the same time. If all that works in my favour then I will
head off to Pie Town in early August for what remains of the
Monsoon Season. Between now and then there is a thin hope
that I might just take off for a few weeks and get my bus up
onto the Mogollon Rim for a few days and return in time for
Poll Worker training and work. But the longer I sit here the
less likely I am to move. My Uncle Newton wrote a paper
about that... A body at rest tends to stay at rest, and a
body in motion tends to stay in motion (as long as the road
is not all up hill).
 Rebus Menu
What's in your lunch tray? ............ shuffled
slowly into an ice cream parlour and pulled himself slowly,
painfully, up onto a stool… After catching his breath, he
ordered a banana split. The waitress asked kindly, 'Crushed
nuts?' 'No,' he replied, 'Arthritis.'
Slow going here so I have plenty of time to write about the
non-events.
Three dogs are at the vet in the waiting room: The first, a
Jack Russell Terrier, says, "I kept humping everything in
sight. The neighbor's cat, my master's leg, the couch, you
name it. Plus, I peed in the corners and chewed the mail
every time it got delivered. So they're going to neuter me
to see if it will calm me down."
The second, a mutt, says, "That's kind of why I'm here, too.
Six litters of puppies up and down the street that all look
like me. My owners are tired of the angry calls. So my junk
gets snipped too."
The third dog is a Great Dane. "My master is a pretty young
thing. Yesterday after his shower, he bent over to pick up
his towel and I couldn't resist, so I jumped him from behind
and took him like a wild animal!"
The other two stare at him in disbelief. "They're going to
cut off your balls for that?"
"What? No, I'm here to get my nails trimmed and treat my bad
breath."
In the spirit of those Jeopardy Categories where you
mix parts of several names/places, what is:
—a musician known for catchy populist rock and traditional
instrumentation,
—a tasty green and red fruit,
—a seasonal place to send kids.
Players, you have 30 seconds...
Too late for that. Crisis Management in effect here.
Wavering between taking charge and curling up in a corner. I
am grieving. My refrigerator, like best buddy for 19 years,
crashed Saturday. The expense of replacement is bad enough
but the work involved and the timing could be little worse.
Well, I suppose such a crisis could be a lot worse–out on
the road with no friends around to help with the heavy
lifting, it could have been a catastrophic failure, an
explosion of ammonia fire and smoke, but this occasion was
just a slow fading away giving me plenty of time to do
nothing but wishful thinking.
Happy Summer Solstice, eh...
tRrump was here boosting no need for masks. What can you
expect? From where I sit the numbers
are bad and getting worse all over. Survival of the
economy more important than survival of any individual; we
are at war don't ya know, the tRump said so, civilian
casualties are collateral damage. But he/we have yet to
mobilize a cogent wartime response. I'm trying to avoid
contact with everyone/thing, still one has to shop for
groceries (now that there is a limited selection of toilet
paper back on the shelves bird seed has about disappeared,
and still no medicinal alcohol...) and take out the trash.
So I hope you are not allergic to the Latex gloves I'm
wearing to type all this drivel and I remind you to be
properly PPE'd before opening and reading.
And the answer is: What is John Water Melon Summer Camp?
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2020 Summer Solstice —
Greetings Virtual Travellers and Pen Friends: 
