Jack's Guide (the Renaissance Person's Guide to Survival in a Shaky Economy)

My Ugly Thumb

I have a hideously ugly thumb.  I am hopeful that this condition proves temporary, and that the opposable digit on my left-most hand is eventually returned to its natural state- that of a rather normal, if not somewhat distinguished-looking thumb.  I have decided to refrain from attaching a photo, as small children may happen upon the image and be frightened.  Heck, my own sister, a registered nurse, refused to look at it.  Granted, as my bro-in-law Brian pointed out to me, "Don't feel too bad, dude- she doesn't do fingers."  I never knew that about her. 

No, my ugly thumb is not something I inherited- at least not from my mom.  She was no Sissy Hankshaw, but was rather possessed of smallish phalange, quite pleasant in appearance.  I could have, however, got from my dad his temperament and his tendency toward being handy with tools, and thus susceptible to the occasional bashed thumb.  Well do I recall scampering for cover from the tirade of forbidden language and backlash of his wrath at an inanimate offending hammer.  Yep, I can see where I got that from ...... thanks, Pop!   If you hadn't inspired me so to become moderately accomplished with hand tools, I might now be looking at a whole thumb, rather than the beaten and bedraggled, dry-rashed and tool-gashed, snaggle-nailed thing attached to my left hand.   Actually, it was not a single incident that resulted in my disfigurement, but rather it was the whole process of remodeling my new living space- the painting, sanding, sawing, cleaning, and general construction damage done to all my tender digits.  My hands began to require daily anointing with moisturizers, balms, and assorted skin rejuvenating compounds.  (Cue the music now- What a drag it is, getting o-o-old!)  It was while I was endeavoring to school the rental kid on the intricacies of paint-sprayers, cannibalizing several of them in order to come up with one that worked, that the unfortunate accident occurred, but it was a while before it turned blackish and began to resemble one of my prized succulents, about the time when the nail began to come off in pieces and the stuff underneath started to ...... let's not go there.

Suffice to say, I'll be happy to get all this moving and repair work over with, so my hands can start to look again like landed gentry again, un-calloused and pliable.  Right now, they're more suited to trailer trash, but hey, I'm not complaining.  At least my thumbs aren't idle.

Bathtub Blues

As today's date commemorates an activity that I rarely engage in, I mention it only as a departure point for a discourse on having and not having.  The celebratory nature of the day is revealed in the name of the holiday, i.e. National Read in the Bathtub Day.  Those of you who have kept up with my postings (yeah, I know- they have been few and far between these last couple of months) will be aware that I have recently downsized my living quarters.  I won't go into the grueling nature of this process- suffice to say that I am now living in a space roughly half the size of my previous abode.  All this has been done in accord with the topic of the blog- making ends meet in a challenging economic environment.  The fact that I can use the venue as an excuse to expound on whatever my serendipity leads me to- well, that's just gravy.

A bathtub was one of the things that I sacrificed in order to scale down.  And I don't mean an dinky little kiddie tub.  I'm talkin' a man-sized garden tub, ample in dimension to accommodate my six-foot-two inch frame, in a stretched-out reclining position.  Not that I frequently used it that way.  The normal procedure was to hop in, turn on the shower, and cleanse thusly, ever upright and vertical, hardly ever horizontal, much less taking the time to pursue literary pastimes.  But I could have if I wanted to.   I am currently taking my toilet in a shower stall, barely big enough to turn around in.  If I drop the soap, I run the risk of my exposing my moist nether regions to the chilly bathroom atmosphere by bending over to pick up said soap, and my cats no longer have the benefit of a nice tub surround on which to perch as they ponder my strange daily ritual, regularly and deliberately soaking myself, for no reason apparent to them.  They are coping, as am I.

I could lament this and various other changes brought about by my circumstances, but in reality, I am somewhat energized (picture a pink, wet, drum-toting bunny) by the situation and the challenges.  I like to think of it as a new beginning.  I have found a tenant who will be moving in March 1st, and will be setting up his living quarters as well as a professional recording studio (much to my delight).  I had been lamenting the loss of my own studio space, and now my pending tenant tells me I'll have access to his facilities.  I have known the fellow long enough to call him a good friend, and am well aware of the cautionary tales about doing "bidness" with friends and/or family.  And a musician, no less.....  but I have an abiding faith that all will be well, and while I am losing a bathtub, I appear to be on the verge of gaining a hot tub in the garden area of my (our) private compound- a trade I am quite satisfied to accept.  There is also talk of replacing my manually-operated security gate with an electronically controlled one.  

I guess the point of this spiel is that despite the fact that I can always find fault with the changes I seem to be forced to make, of what benefit is such an attitude?  I am now faced with a much more manageable live/work situation, and have a fresh new physical environment to play around with- always a joy for a "nester" such as I am.  It goes back to my perspective on productivity and to having a healthy attitude- not the easiest thing to accomplish in these short winter days. I must focus on what I have, instead of on what I lack.

Seasonal affective issues and my current circumstances have kept me from regular maintenance of this journal, but I have every intention of keeping it going.  I must defer to tasks at hand, however, clearing out and cleaning up the old living quarters and getting my new renter in by month's end.  Stay tuned, dear friends, and, while you still have the option, go enjoy your bathtub.