That was a close shave.

Just a close shave.
Darn! My electric shaver is broke. The head and foil has come apart. I thought I had another to replace it with but discovered I do not. This got me to thinking. What if I grew a beard? I tried it once or twice when in college. The miscellaneous scruff I grew back in college came out blondish and not dark brown. Dark brown like I HAD atop my head in a previous life. With my horribly white skin the blondish beard looked like someone hit me straight on with a cream pie. Then there was the itch. Itch accompanied with pimple blumples. Itchy! And in need of Oxy-10. Just a freaking mess of itch and pimples.
But anyway, my shaver is out of

order. Necessitating me to use a razor blade. I use Harry’.com. Receiving multibladed blades every month or so. It all works fine if I want to take the time to affect a wet shave. Wet shaves are troublesome and take too much time and shave cream. I guess I’m too lazy to do the entire wet-shave process.
But on the other hand, it will be about one week before I get a replacement foil for my shaver. The way shipping is slow today, it could easily be several weeks before arrival.
So, if you see a guy out walking with a scruffy pie-splattered looking beard, it might be me or a chimpanzee. None the less, say hi. However, I might be walking with my chin touching my chest Attempting to hide my wooly unshaven face. Darn! Technology fails me once again. If it it’s not my Wahl shaver then it’s my 20-year-old Windows XP PC. They just don’t make them like they used to. Do they huh?

My Book Report.

Book Report.

So here you have two parentless Irish immigrant kids arriving in a new country, a run-away slave seeking freedom, and a California gold mining man from China. All looking for a new life or hopefully new opportunities in the expanding land called America. Experiencing both success and hardship. Some traveling on, working for, or investing in the new steam engine driven transcontinental railroad. Newly laid wooden ties, spikes and iron rails spanning across America and ready for the great iron horse followed by the passenger car.
Then fast forward four or five generations to the present. Their descendants still experiencing successes and hardships. Eventually all the descendants riding separately and unknown to the other all aboard a modern express train to their new destiny.
The book: Small World by Jonathan Evison Historical Fiction
2022

Here is the Library of Congress annotation:
In the 1850s, a group travels across the country via train, including a pair of Irish orphans, a runaway slave, and an immigrant from China. In 2019, descendants of those early travelers board another transcontinental train, seeking their own version of the American Dream.

Again, the book is ‘Small World’ by Jonathan Evison, historical fiction 2022
Individual’s stories covering the present then flashback to the early family ancestries. Leaving the reader thinking “It couldn’t get any worse than this.” However, some tragedies eventually turn into an unexpected celebration. Read it. You’ll like it.

Come on into my studio.

How to record music.

Back in the early 1980s and up in to the mid-1990s I owned and operated a recording studio. Recording all sort of virtuosos, song writers, small bands, big bands, country, Bluegrass, gospel, rock and you name it bands. I recorded harps and harpsichords. Choirs and even one woman laughing. I recorded them all. Then I once had to give a young lady the bad news of keeping her day-job and go try something else.
Never the less there is a certain technique in multitrack recording. It’s best to start with recording the rhythm section first. Drubs, bass, and rhythm guitar or something like that. Depending on the style of music and instruments used in the band. Sometimes just an upright bass fiddle and mandolin. Whatever.
The idea is to separate the sounds by padded sound baffles or by distance. Miking each instrument separately. Which gives more flexibility in equalization and level control all in the final mix. Then you overlay that with a lead guitar, keyboard, and/or voice. Then you are ready for the final mix down. All this gives the tune recorded clean and clear sounds of instrument and voice. Are you following me?
However, many of the local bands coming in I had in my studio had no clue how recording is done. Their thoughts were “just mic us up and let us go.” Not so disconcerted breath.
Almost half their arranged studio time was me instructing the band or individual how recording techniques work. Techniques that may lead to a brighter and clearer recording. Allowing the listener to distinguish one voice or instrument from the other. A good separation of sounds.
Then one day a Laotian gentleman came in and wanted to record his Laotian band. Obviously, there was language hoops to jump through. Again, the man and his band from Laos thought all one needed to do is mic us up and let us go. Again, not so. However, after attempting to explain the recording techniques over and over as best I could it was best just given in and mic them all up at once. what made it difficult was the drummer was their only singer. Making it most difficult to separate the drums from his low volume voice. So, we did what we could. Mixed it all down, took their money, and gave them the final mix on a cassette tape.
Now my favorite foreign language band was several Latinos from Joplin Missouri. And once again only one band member could half way speak English. This time I was successful in explaining the step-by-step process of separating sounds. Recording rhythm section first and so on. But what made this project fun was their music. They chose Oldies songs from the late 1950s and 1960s. We recorded an old tune often heard on Dick Clark’s American Bandstand. “Let’s go to the Hop in Spanish. “Vamos al salto de salto. Just like Danny and the Juniors sang back in 1957. Right?
Later on, wife and I converted this business into an advertising specialty business. Recording messaging for business phone systems. Call directing answers and on-hold messages. We started off with over 3000 State Farm agents. This receipt of monies made up for all the premiums I had paid to State Farm in the past. And the business grew from there.

Write me a story.

Stepping lively in her new pink New Balance running shoes, Michael Anna was speeding between ancient class buildings. In a big freaking rush to get to her Third-World Economic class she was to lecture as an adjunct. Being a first semester senior, she had agreed to occasionally lecture with the agreement that the university would reduce her current semester tuition debt by 30-percent. It was agreed since Michael Anna grew up in Bolivia whose parents were American missionaries toiling in a small and mostly poor Villa about a hundred kilometers southeast of La Paz. And Michael Anna being a fluent speaker of Spanish, she could easily lecture in English and interpret for the few South American students in her class. Having good repour with the class she was often referred to as Chiquita Mikey, The Pickleball Princess.

It was like having cows in our front yard.

The dairy came to us.
The chilled paper carton I picked up from the dairy case read 2% MILK. Homogenized Fortified with vitamin-D. All printed on a half-gallon paper carton with a plastic screw off pouring spout.
As I held it in my left hand, I couldn’t help but remember Johnny the milkman. A neatly trimmed mustachioed handsome gentleman wearing an all-white delivery uniform with white cap. Johnny was a route salesman for Arden Milk and dairy in L. A.
Remembering back when I was in grade school, he delivered to our home our milk and other dairy products right to our front porch at about 5:30 or 6:00 some mornings. This would have been from the early 1950s to about 1960 one or two mornings a week. From my bedroom, I could hear him drive up in his milk delivery truck stopping in front of our little house on our street in East Los Angeles. Noticing him opening the rear door of his delivery truck, hoist out two half gallons of whole milk while always spilling out chunks of ice on the pavement, carry the full glass bottles and place them in a wooden milk crate sitting on our front porch. Then removing the empty bottles my mom washed and placed back in the wooden crate for Johnny to retrieve and return to be filled once again. Most of our neighbors did the same. Home milk delivery. So, what happened to that most convenient service? And as they say, “those were the days.”

But wait a minute buster.

They come to serve.
I still get a big charge out of a wait staffer when coming to take your food or drink order at our favorite restaurants. Especially when they are a new hire. Our last encounter was with a young man probably a freshman college student at the nearby State University. Most likely his first attempt at wait work. He approaches the end of the dining table and positions himself and begins his recital.
So he begins, “Hi my name is Roger and welcome to Wangles. And I will be your server this afternoon.” Pronouncing each word distinctly as if reading script off a teleprompter word for each separate word. Pronouncing each word with a noticeable gap between each word. Just a bit robotic.
“So how is everybody today?” I guess everybody meaning my wife and myself. However, asking such a question and not expecting a response of fine, how about yourself. This seems to disorient most wait people. None the less, he continues, “can I take your drink order?” Wife almost always orders water with lemon. And Rogers responds with “Gottit” I often ask for a mix of Club Soda and Coke. Followed by a brief period of silence. As if in complete confusion. Giving Roger the appearance of searching his drink order lexicon for a mix drink with soda and cola. Then followed by his question-and-answer period.
To explain here for the reader, I prefer a carbonated drink with less sugar. Thus, half and half cola and Club soda. So, after a moment of clarification he is off two fetch our drink order. But being a new hire, it does take Roger a few extra minutes to return with drinks and take our food order. But ‘everybody’ at our table is patient and understand his delayed return.
What often happens is my wife is a bit slow in deciding. She often hopes I will order something that the two of us could easily split. Asking or just an extra plate. But if I order an item she doesn’t care for, this shifts my wife into search and choose mode. Requiring an extra five minutes or so. Sometimes prompting the wait person to make suggestions. But she seldom accepts their suggestions. Only she knows what she wants to order. So, after a seemingly lengthy delay she comes up with something she wishes to order. Creating an extra moment of wait time.
But about fifty percent of the time the wait person disappears and one begins two wonders if Roger got lost. And if not that, Roger comes back every two minutes to our table and asks if he could get something else ford our dining pleasure. Constantly interrupting our conversation. But we are patient people and ignore the constant queries. Thinking it is what Roger is instructed to do by the management.
But as anticipated, our orders come hot and fresh. Then as soon I arrange my plate and table ware and at the very moment I fork in a large bite of food into my mouth, Roger is back asking if he could be of any service. Leaving me with no clear choice but to mumble something with my mouth full. “Gargfeloumpkin.”
Now don’t get me started on the high pitch and often shrill voice of many female wait persons. Almost all sounding like they had the same speech coach. Possibly sounding like a perpetual smiley version of Rocky the Flying squirrel. “Oh, just look at the two of you. You guys are so cute.” But I will cover this on a later post.

We be neither Julia Child nor Wolfgang Puk.

International cooking contest?
Four other neighbors and myself are on one of five teams in a cooking contest. Neither one of us are known bakers, cookers, nor chefs. Certainly, least of all a chef. That’s laughable. Ha!
But anyway, our team was assigned to cook, bake, or formulate something akin to German fare. German food. You’ve got to be kidding me! Right? I barely know how to cook-up Okie comfort food. By the way what do Germans eat. Aside from all of this I personally am responsible for baking German Rye bread. Dark German rye bread. Yes, I have baked some breads but never German Dark Rye And to add difficulty to this challenge, I am responsible to bake six loaves. Six!
I have found online a recipe for German Rye bread. Having a recipe doesn’t necessarily mean success. Good luck with this.
Other members of our team will cook-up other typical German foods. The other teams will be preparing other international food like Mexican, Asian, French, and Italian. The on about the 26th of this month we will present our cuisine in hope of being the winners of the cooking contest On our team is one geography professor, one special education teacher, one former advertising agency operator, a dental hygienist, and myself, a former recording studio operator. Whew! Good luck with all of this. Bon Appetite.

Looking for a good ending.

Writer’s challenge.
He was in a rush picking out a last pair of socks from his sock drawer. Discovering, to his horror, one sock was brown and the other red and white stripe. He was miffed because he was late to a significant business meeting with his bankers. However, he was hoping to find pants with extra-long legs. But to his horror the only pair was his ‘high water pants.’ The plaid pants he wore when it rained.

(Now, you write thee conclusion to this story)

Book Report, bestseller.

Book Report
Even though this book comes in print and E-book version, the audio book is most entertaining. The young lady/voice actor gives this book a third dimension along with a little bit of Technicolor. None the less, it can be found in print if you wish.
Twenty-five-year-old Molly Gray or as some call her Molly the maid labors as a maid in a five-star hotel. Dragging along with her a room trolly full with cleaning supplies, towels with soaps, small bottles and tubes of mouth and hair hygiene products. Ready as she says, “here to clean your room to perfection.” And as you can tell takes pride in her work. Others at the hotel think of her a bit weird and a bit over the top. Some refer to her as ‘Roomba’ the robotic vacuum and other disparaging descriptions But one startling and horrific day Molly finds the deceased body of one of the hotel’s frequent guests. Possibly murdered in his bed. But we must say here Molly is a bit naïve, unassuming, and reads some of her friends the wrong way. Another thing you the reader of this book will discover Molly is guided by mantras and proverbs left her by Molly’s late Gram or grandmother. Recalling what would Gram do or think in a given situation.

The book, “The Maid” a novel by Nita Prose, suspense fiction mystery and detective story bestseller 2022
Library of Congress annotation:
Twenty-five-year-old Molly Gray doesn’t interact well with the world and misses her gran who codified it for her. She has gotten a job as a hotel maid and revels in her orderly duties. When she discovers a dead body in a room, Molly must unravel the real killer’s identity.
Lauren Ambrose is the voice actor on the audiobook. Even though the subject is murder, drugs, and some bad relationships one can’t help but snicker a bit at Molly’s naivete and clueless assumptions. Read the book. You’ll like it.