I have two Old Duffers in my life now. First and original Old Duffer (O.D.) is a gentleman from my synagogue who fancies himself a competent guitarist. Tonight he came over and tuned his guitar to something other than the the actual notes. His G string, you should pardon the expression, was so flat and he kept tuning to that flat. He also plays so fast, regardless of the song, and I don't know if he is playing me by playing so badly and expecting me to play badly as well. Once a week I endure this and some weeks are better than others but tonight won the grand prize. I finally had to stop and say my hands hurt and he still played on. He and his wife want me to join them for the local community sing and I have been avoiding that but in June I will have run out of excuses to not attend. Singing with a bunch of old folkies singing off key is not an exercise I willingly would participate. But I must as heaven awaits.
O.D. 2.0 is a gentleman down the street from me. He is Oakwood natural in a neighborhood that conflates Oakwoods. This gentleman winters in East Lansing and summers in Empire, Michigan that is. He is quite the character and full of bombast. He is trying to obtain a Currier and Ives lithograph for the Empire Historical Society and Marching Band. I found some copies and he seems interested. I love researching that sort of thing and as long as the Coca Cola flows I has help him in his quest. I might go visit the O.D. 2.0 tomorrow after the missed reflexology session concludes. I need to know exactly what he is searching for and how much he is prepared to pay. The original print, a side wheeler steam ship name the Empire State, is in the Library of Congress, and is public domain. I could load it to a flash drive and get him a print at the library's copy center. There are also other options for prints but mine in the cheapest. So I need to speak to him about his hopes, fears, dreams and desires. He is an old fashioned gent who honors the Happy Hour with a cocktail or two. Or three. Right now, in addition to his quest for a Currier and Ives, he is reassembling pallets so as to make strawberry planters. He is the owner of the house with the children's garden that seems only adults plant and tend. Four raised beds loaded with all matter of matter.
I spent much of the day trying to catch up but ended up running in place. The lists continue to daunt me. So I took time to search for lithographs and other manner of Empire stuff. Excelsior and all that. I do so like spending other peoples' money and he seems to enjoy spreading the wealth. The researcher in me takes pride in being able to locate the unlocatable. It pleases me to no end, unlike O.D. who can't carry a tune in a bucket to coin a phrase. Oh, I can still hear that annoying G string flat for all the world to see. He even had an electronic tuner, a Snark, as in the hunting of the Snark, and still managed to mangle the tuning. Why I continue to do this I do not know but it is like watching an accident happening in slow motion and I can't turn away. He wants me to play along with him at a function at the synagogue which scares me. His rationale for having me play with him at the synagogue is that if I play loud than he it would appear that his is playing well. Yikes. And I keep doing this to myself. O.D. 2.0 is a far more pleasurable pursuit.
Oh, well, it be time for the bed and/or maybe a yogurt to calm Ursula down. She was better today with the influx of the new medication which I am actually taking for a change. And so I bid happy trails to another day.
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