Chalk-up another first — early Saturday morning, I saw a bat on The Mountain.
The sighting lasted only an instant. I was gazing up at a waning quarter moon when the tiny creature flitted back and forth in front of me, and then it was gone.
It’s no surprise that there are bats around. Tree bats, probably, given the habitat. This likely was an eastern red bat, one of several species of microbats common in Ozarkansas.
No photos, just a cool moment.
After-breakfast productivity yesterday took the form of sealing-up gaps around the through-the-wall air conditioner. I’d picked up a few coils of foam weatherstripping designed for the purpose and began in the living room.
Only the lower edge needed filling. Once the sun was up, I moved outdoors.
I stuffed a length of the foam into the horizontal gap underneath the unit, where the sleeve passes through the siding. A plastic putty knife made it easy to push the compressible material into the voids. Over time, it’ll expand to seal what I can’t see.
On the top side, I used more clear silicone caulk to fill a much skinnier gap.
When the new AC was done, I had enough extra weatherstripping to address a gap at the bottom of the window unit in the bedroom. And I still have two coils left over, now stowed away for future use.
I retired to the porch — the shady gravel pad in front of the shed, that is — and sat down with my coffee. Cedars, oaks and hickories waved gently overhead. At that hour, only the tallest trees on the west slope of The Mountain caught the morning light.
It’d be another hot one. I could feel it coming.
I was pretty proud of myself for having weatherproofed the AC installation before I’d even finished a pot of coffee. The only thing left to do was putting up exterior trim.
Maybe Sunday, I thought.
Wait — why did that need to wait for another day?
I had an eight-foot length of 1×4 trim that the Graceland service guy left behind the day he repaired the cabin roof. I took measurements, did some figuring and discovered that the board was exactly six inches too short to duplicate the trim on the cabin windows.
Well, shit.
Undeterred, I came up with a way to deal with that and still trim out the air conditioner. First, I did the top and the sides, as I’d planned, rough-sawn side out.
The lower horizontal piece I cut a quarter-inch longer than the width of the AC and nailed it in place.
From the original 96-inch board, I was left with less than three inches of scrap. It went into the kindling box next to the woodstove.
Even if the result doesn’t perfectly match the design of the window trim, that bottom piece fills its functional role. I’m satisfied — the job is off my list, and I didn’t have to buy lumber.
I feel younger than I am, at least most of the time. I’m told that I present as much younger, too, whatever that’s worth.
But consider this — the last of my grandparents was born in 1903. The other three were born in 1900, 1893 and 1885.
The year I was born, McDonald’s had 40 locations and Burger King five. No Wendy’s. No Starbucks.
We did have 600 Howard Johnson’s restaurants, however, and 2,600 Dairy Queens.
I was born three months before the first space flight and 35 years before Americans bought more salsa than ketchup.
Radial arm saws and sickle-bar mowers were common. Lawn darts were popular. Coffee didn’t need a warning label, lighters didn’t have safeties and wooden matches could be struck anywhere.
Smoking was permitted in restaurants and bars, on commercial aircraft, pretty much everywhere. There wasn’t even a “smoking section.”
Cars didn’t have catalytic converters or electronic ignition systems. All gasoline had lead in it.
Milk came in glass bottles, including at school. No one had ever seen a two-liter pop bottle.
We didn’t have velcro, mylar or handheld calculators.
Boy Scouts were boys.
My home phone number began with two letters — “TE,” which was spoken as “Temple.”
Phones had dials, and how “mobile” they were was limited by the length of a cord. Long-distance calls were expensive, rates charged by the minute.
Two months from today, my high-school graduating class will hold its 50th reunion. (That’s just a few days before the final divorce hearing, so I doubt that I’ll be able to join them.)
I could go on. But if I did, I might feel old.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable