What is a blue moon anyway? I don't know... Elvis sang Blue Moon of Kentucky, a song by Bill Monroe in his bluegrass style, early on and, as far as I know, never recorded another bluegrass type song. He probably did, that hillbilly cat, I just don't know about it.
I only ask because once again it's been nearly a month since I've taken the time to sign on here and ramble at length about anything and nothing at all. I suppose I could blame it on the sleep debt but that hasn't kept me from playing WeBBoggle at all hours. Or staying up all night watching TV for eight hours I'll never get back because my wyfe- the one decidedly non-technical, non-TV-addicted soul in the household -figured out how to work the OnDemand feature of our cable remote. I don't know if that stuff runs out after the three-month intro package or not but I'm doing all I can to make sure we get our money's worth out of it before that rolls around!
Coupla old western movies and even a Rifleman episode on there, very cool. Clint Eastwood in Joe Kidd. I've watched a LOT of Clint Eastwood over the years but I don't know if I ever watched that one before. Not a stellar offering but passable at least as western shoot-'em-up fare.
I could blame it on prepping our next move- I know, I know, it's been less than six months... hasn't it? I lose track, I'll tell ya... -but this time it's just up the lane in our little trailer community. A decidedly-
I like that word, 'decidedly'. Almost as much as 'ostensibly'. Or 'unequivocally'. How 'bout this- "Jed was ostensibly a mass media 'retrovista'; that is, decidedly unequivocal in his love of vintage television.". I just made that up- 'retrovista' -to describe someone who snobbishly avoids contemporary entertainment in favor of that representative of the 'good old days'. Make of that what you will.
Oh, and another thing: Speaking of retro TV, Mrs. Rankin, fourth grade teacher at Conestoga Elementary School, once marked a sentence writing exercise of mine with a big red slash through the proper name 'Jed', commenting 'No such proper name!' in red as well. Did the woman never watch The Beverly Hillbillies? I guess not. 'Jed', short for Jedediah. Admittedly not a common name even in, whatever year that was, 1970-71, perhaps, but, c'mon!... In her generation it had to have been a sight more recognizable as a moniker!!! What was her problem?!? Were my striped hip huggers just too Partridge Family for her? My rakishly combed 9-year old hair too reminiscent of those mop-topped British lads who caused such a stir over the last decade? So she took it out on my writing skills papers?!? Yeeshhh... I may have commented on this previously, I'm not sure, but it just sticks in my craw, I guess.
What's a 'craw', I wonder? I know... Let's go ask Jed!
But I digress... -a decidedly larger accomodation where we'll be able to line up abreast, arms raised and not bang into a wall. Pass side-by-side in the living room without turning sideways. Where my toymaking activities will be out of the main pathway, out of sight and out from underfoot. Where both the stovetop and the, ah, reading room are vented to the outside of the living space. Where having friends in doesn't mean having friends in your lap... And so on. Just generally more accomodating quarters for all parties involved and any and all activities which might conceivably occur therein.
Highlights also include two, count 'em two, built-in curio displays where I'll be able to stand up some of my little plastick men for the befuddled amusement of people who ask, 'What do you do again?!?" Which is almost invariably followed by, "Is there money in that?!?" Well, no, but then I live simply. And cheaply. Mostly becasue I'm simple. And cheap.
Sizable closet space for everybody also means my suits won't be crushed to death between weekly wearings. And I may not have to iron every shirt every time it comes out. Not that I ever do, I just make sure to keep the jacket on!
And my guitars will have a place of their own. I might even bring the Crate half stack home, though my pal Jimmy will probably wanna arm wrestle me for it at this point. He's been baby-sitting it in his basement for a coupla months since mumsy got tired of it taking up floor space in her spare bedroom. (Really, what's a spare bedroom for if not your grown son's guitar amp, record collection and rarely watched VHS tapes?)I hope he's gotten some use out of it.
All in all, it's like the Jeffersons- 'Movin' On Up!', fer sure. Should be an exciting next few weeks as we tote our worldly goods up the lane a hundred yards. More like fifty yards. Let's see, fifty times three...150... uh, feet... 75 paces... I dunno, it's not far at any rate. I could throw a rock from here to there. But then I'd probably throw my arm out. That wouldn't be good. That would be very bad.
Oh, my, look at the time! I'll never wanna get up in the AM! See ya!
