Today is Steve Hoy’s birthday. It is a big one for him. There is a six involved. We called him this morning but he didn’t answer. He was at the Indianapolis 500 yesterday and and may not be able to hear his phone ringing today. In the late sixties he proposed that we just kill ourselves when we turned thirty. I was uncertain but Steve felt like that was just too old and everyone he knew that was that old was a creep. It is old. Sixty is older.
I worked so hard on our landscaping job on Friday that I couldn’t paint Saturday morning. I stood in front of my easel like a zombie and then decided to just go out and work in the yard some more. Painting is hard work, harder than landscaping. I need to be physically ready or I make a mess of it. We turned in early and I was in good shape today. I finished a really strong painting before Peggi got back with her mom. We cooked chicken in the back yard.
I called our nephew in NYC to see if he could handle manual labor when he gets up here. He’s taking the train up tomorrow. I plan on borrowing my neighbor’s truck and picking up a load of 3/4 inch gravel to put in the French drain out back. It’s $5 a load at the quarry in Penfield. Our nephew is up for it.
Kevin Patrick is building a site that dedicated to 45s. He has just started but it promises to be brilliant. He tried blogspot yesterday and Tumblr today. He’s looking for an easy way to embed music in the blog software. It’s called So Many Records, So Little Time and it reunites packaging with digital music files. It promises to a juke box in the sky or record store showroom where you can’t buy anything but you can browse as long as you like. There’ll be plenty of personal anecdotes as well.