RDCanecutter

Don't do that.

Out back? That's those people who build giant fires on their back porch then leave them unattended. The dude teaches his boys to play baseball by screaming at them. Kids are polite though.

So what had happened was, first, the air conditioning had been out for almost two weeks as our service guys replaced AC all over town. We had an R2D2 bedroom unit for sleeping sanity, the rest of the house was at about 85 degrees with tactically-placed box fans. This frustrated my Yankih wife but I drew comfort from childhood memories when we lived that way in an ancient Addams Family neighborhood. Second up was the Atorvastatin that my Endocrinologist had asked me to take. In the past I stopped taking it because my blood pressure was dropping too low with it. I gave it a try this second go-round and it did the same damn thing so I dropped it again, maybe a couple of days before the faint. So there I am, sitting in the heat like a savage no matter what my idiot Kindergarten self remembered about fans, possibly with remnants of Atorvastatin knock-out powder in my system, and I, with all my blood pooled in my legs, decide to LEAP up off a sofa and lope into the kitchen, and 30 seconds later it's like getting head-shot. Anyway, got working AC now.

I declare, this IS the most likely cause Suh.

I recently got good scan news so to celebrate I went to the kitchen to pour a glass of wine but two steps toward the den I fainted and rolled around in the broken glass and wine and blood (See: rolled in broken glass) then held my slashed right foot higher than my heart so it'd quit pumping tomato juice while Mrs. Canecutter swept wine, blood, and glass into a tidy pile. Good pioneer stock, that one. We thought I'd just rolled the ankle, which I did, but I also slap broke the fibula too. The next few days I'll be rocking boot and crutches until Tuesday when they give me android powers at Andrews Sports Medicine with screws and braces. (my sport: drankin that wine.) Good news is that it barely hurts unless I try to twist it some weird way. Bad part is that it's like being some fucking three-year-old unable to drive anywhere on my own, Note to everybody: if you are ever in bed with the broke-foot boot off and you think you might have to piss, start strappin that boot back on asap because time is of the essence.

I took a shot at translating "Save it for Later" by the English Beat into Scottish Gaelic.

In past years I would buy bullion that I loved, which weighed on my ability to make a fast deal with it when opportunity arose. So I switched to buying boring stuff that I didn't much like. So now my unlikeable new stack bores me. I still dollar-cost-average the stuff, but it's like a stack of bricks now. A couple of months ago Mrs. Canecutter and I started mixing numismatic Youtube videos into our after-dinner bullion viewing. Suddenly the world expanded beyond "It goes up/it goes down/They's a gummint conspiraceh Boys!" Had no idea where to start, being a simple bullion caveman. Feared dealer trickery. Then the other day I'm in the best-priced coin shop maybe in my state and yours, to get my bulk silver, and, unusually, he has six or seven trays of Silver Dollars that he sent in the NGC for grading. (This answered my question of whether I should collect NGC or PCGS if the best -priced guy uses NGC. He said PCGS had been bought out by private equity who had fired the top graders and otherwise advanced the enshittening...) So anyway I decided to peel off a fraction of the Bullion cash and direct it towards a nice 1880 San Francisco MS 64 Morgan. Dude was selling it and all the others right at Red Book value Kinda revived the feeling of buying a new Hotwheels car.

I agree. My Alabama sisters and I are pretty low drama. There is one other flyspeck of land that through an oversight of inheritance now belongs to my Mom (in a nursing home) and my recently-deceased uncle, whose daughters have a love for drama and invention that astounds. I want to give it to them so we can be shed of it. On maps it looks like people think it's a park. It has huge pine trees that may fall over on somebody. But no.

You just made the list buddy.

Still waiting to get estimate from the roofer who climbed up on the roof. Called back a week ago and the wife was all apologetic but he still hadn't heard back from suppliers. Plus he's working on three other houses and it's been raining. I need to go back during a thunderstorm so I can be sure I have the garbage can under the worst leak. If I call back too soon I might get seen as a pushy Birmingham City-Slicker Possible Yankee type. In the meantime there's plumbing to do. JUST IN: The appraisal was 135K, not 111K. I found this out as one sister called me and said she and the other sister wanted to sell it to me as if it were 90K, ie 30K for each of them so I guess 60K seeing as how I already own a third. The 45K discount is to cover the repairs + they just know I am awesome. I did my Learned-It-Fron-My-Pakistani-College-Roommate polite/mildly interested/but gotta think about it/ type of thing.

It's a cool place. People keep trying to make it an arts/tourism place but it sputters along like a car missing on a cylinder. There is a whole industry of Black Belt development grants there.

The French will slap the shit out of a sassy brat like it's a black-and-white movie. Probably the mom too if she gets lippy.

Or a pellet gun.

Selma Alabama. Was up-and-coming place when built, not so much now.

I don't have to read this because I lived it, Dotty. I was maybe 9. But instead of tedious exercise, I picked up a length of garden hose and used it like a brass-tipped bullwhip. Oh hell yeah he shrieked and ran.

Settle down Ollie Boy.

Babe you know it's true...

Shut the fuck up.

Painting after retirement is a question of which area of the body you want to mess up. Stand at an easel, mess up shoulder. Sit at table, mess up back. Well I'm technically in Appalachia, maybe I can find a Squidbilly to hook me up. Trying to get 10 medium-sized paintings ready for Birmingham Art Walk in September. It's like a big Atlanta show for about $500 less. Thinking about some deep price cuts in my bigger pieces because I am ready to flush out the inventory. Also still working on website art for UT French department. I sorta volunteered to double my output for their generous paycheck. Now as it winds down they are talking about more work in tshirt art and voice acting which would be mega cool.

Extra credit for the pre-leap hunchback dance. Then there's the foreground chick with the spins, texting ex-boyfriend.

It's better than whatever else one of us would be doing during a random two hours.

Good advice. About a year ago we had it appraised for $110,000 before the leak was so bad. It'd be 2 million in Austin if I could find a big enough truck to move it there. I agree that I should buy it sooner rather than later.

Awright I love gold. How much? Today I let a man dig a chunk of it out of my head. Translation-- tooth underneath gold crown got a cavity, so to get at it they needed to do a new crown. Meanwhile I got the old one, and yes I did holler at him for sawing a good 20 dollar slice out of it. Weighed the thing, and figuring it was about 10 karat, maybe it was $180 melt. Called up local gold dealer that I did signs and artwork for, they said come on down. Dude gave me 200 bucks. I asked if he had a Dos Pesos. Sure did. 200 bucks. Let's do it. Turns out he gifted it to me at a smidge under spot. Who knows, maybe it was refiner-bound. Maybe he just likes me. I get home and the dentist's office calls, Mr. Dentist's nurse says he expects the new crown will cost between $450 and 600, but he can get me a gold-colored titanium one for $88. I tell her "Pimpin' ain't easy." I gotta go with the gold. I also told her I'd just sold the old one for 200 bucks which elicited a "You got HOW MUCH?" I am guessing they send all their scrap gold to some "service" that gouges them. I gotta hook them up with my gold dealer friends.

We have been saving these just for you. Our menu is all in lower case font and with no mention of prices, like an up-scale art gallery. Horst will be by to co-plan your meal. It's actually best if you ignore him-- he abhors conversation.

My Mom is convinced that my New Jersey/Pennsylvania Wife is Mexican. I guess it's up on the roof with her. BREAKING NEWS: Woman representing some roofers called back. The lady and I both went to rival high schools at about the same time. No obvious bad blood, but I'll watch my back.