Sunday Night with Johnny Cash

There was an open stage down at this little bar called Raw Sugar Sunday night. Couple of us decided to check it out; plus they had Beau's on tap. It was a tiny little place with only one beer tap. There was also only one girl working. She got a little scared when French asked her: "How rowdy can we get in here?"

We listened to a couple of fine singers, and we started buying rounds like we did back at university. French finally took off his cowboy hat and hit the stage with his guitar. French had everyone take off their hats as well. Then he told everyone to stand up. Pancake, Sweaty, and I all got up right away; everyone else followed suit. He then sang I Shall Not Be Moved Johnny Cash style. French had 'em all singing and clapping. Excellent finish to the night, or so I thought. There was one more little adventure worth mentioning.

Pancake was hungry - as usual. We hit up some stale pizza then headed out into the rain. Outside French immediately started to talk to a homeless man who was missing one arm from the elbow down. The homeless guy said: "Can you spare a little for a fella that just had the worst day of his life"? French looked at his stump, handed him some money and said: "Worse than the day you lost your hand?"

That was damn good point. We all gave him some cash and a few slices too.

Linked to Imperfect Prose - Redemption.

Perpetual Yard Sale

French and I went to see the new baby. Rose and Bruce have their first; a little girl: Destiny Fish. We pulled up into the dump and drove up to the shed. Bruce Fish had a display; all kinds of girly items from the dump that spelled out "It's a Girl". We chatted for a bit and then went to visit Rose. She was at her perpetual yard sale.

Rose has spent the last couple of weeks with her two constant companions: her ever present bible and Destiny. She sits in a big lazy boy chair under a tarp. She even has a little school desk with a cashier sign.

Rose comes to the dump and wanders around pulling out the best items. Bruce cleans them up does a few repairs, and they truck them back down the highway to their place. Today Bruce had just finished repairing a Microwave; which he called an easy twenty bucks. Their front yard is a never ending yard sale. They have rows a tables filled with items. They put the best items up front. Many cottagers and campers buy the old dump gems back. Bruce said that sales went up 23% when he put up a sign that said ANTIQUES in huge block letters. He even got this sign out of the dump.

On their days off Bruce and Rose drive around and pick up stuff off the curbs on garbage days. They usual bring back a full truck of "goods" from the streets of Kingston. Bruce calls these days his tinkering days. I questioned him once about this habit. " Don't you get enough of junk and trash at work?" He said: "I sure do, but the dump can't keep up with the demand".

The Funeral Tie

Just got the news from French. He got his old job back: teaching high-school. He'll be back at HHS this September. His resume and experience is just what they needed. French is teaching one section of guitar, media, metal-shop, gym and two English classes.

He said: "I'm the filler inner".

French had been bowling with the superintendent. They became good buds. Their team was called the "Tap-Benders". French is now back in the board.

Since he was last in the classroom he's sleeved his left arm in tattoos. He never wears long sleeves so that'll create some controversy with the PTA.

He has a solution. French keeps an old tie in his garage. We came back from a friend's funeral back in 2007 and he got out of the car and he took it off and hung it on a nail before going inside. Over the last three years it has got a little beat up and cob-webby. He calls it his "funeral tie'. French never wore it teaching before.

French rubbed it down with a swiffer and said: "this touch of class will make up for my tats".

Garth Brooks Friends

Pancake often calls Bruce Fish our Garth Brooks friend: "I've got friends in low places....". This is a reference , or rib, to his job at the dump. I think it is excellent to "know someone" at the dump.

I went to the dump after a few days at the cottage and a new guy was working. Bruce Fish was at home with Rose (she had just given birth). This new guy wanted to know where my dump tags were; after closely inspecting my garbage bags. With a big grin on his face he said: "The rule is one tag per bag - and each tag is a buck - and you have to buy them in units of ten - and you have to be a property owner in the county to buy them - and the stickers need to be clearly affixed to each bag". Son of a bitch.

Bruce Fish never checked for tags with me; good deal. This substitute dump dude was in his glory. A true bureaucrat of the dump. I went in to town and bought some tags. The dump was closed when I got back.

I went back a few weeks later with dump tags. Bruce Fish was insulted that I had bought the tags. I hung them on the fridge and there they'll stay.

Art Explosion

Had a great holiday weekend with the lads and the Fams - swimming and fishing at the cottage.

Seems like some of the guys have got art on their minds. Bruce Fish is tinkering away, as always, on his projects. Sweaty calls himself "the Artist of the Grill". Funny - he only cooks back bacon. We have this ancient Ranchero BBQ - rusty, beat-up and full of hot and cold spots. Sweaty kept the bacon grilling regardless.

And French spent the whole holiday weekend taking photos through beer bottles. I've posted one of the shots that French took as the header.

Pancake and I spent most of the time pulling sunfish off hooks down on the dock. He made this observation: "Fifteen years ago we came up here, got drunk and passed out...things have changed".

Rose looked up from her Bible and said: "Its nice".