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I was rooting around for something and found these old paystubs, and an electric bill, from 1943. Looks like they took out about 14% for taxes; I thought taxes were lower back then… Maybe making a whole $1.07 an hour bumped you into a higher bracket? Doesn’t sound like a lot, but his electric bill from a few years previous was only a buck eighty. That’s for 52 killowatt hours. Google says the average household today uses well over 1000 KWH a month. Where is it all going?
Also note the insurance deduction. It’s just for if you are hospitalized. I guess you paid the doc for office visits (Or house calls!) out of pocket, or gave him some chickens? or a bushel of corn?
When I was in boot camp, they usually just yelled and banged garbage cans. It didn’t matter to me, I was usually awake, hearing people that got up even earlier marching in the distance, or at least the wind whistling off the lake.
This card was sent to Billie R. From Virgil, and I have several of them, I suspect she kept them all her days. As far as I can make out, it says;
Hello Billy! I received your sweet letter today and was sure glad to hear from you. I guess that I did tell Eddie that you were working every day, I allow that (something) short of hands…. He would give you a job while school was out but it would be too much on you for regular work. You need to rest and play while you are young and can enjoy yourself —-
Truer words were never spoken, Virgil!
Teresa and I were visiting Las Vegas for the first time in 2014. Riding a shuttle bus from the airport to our hotel, I caught a glimpse of the Elvis-O-Rama sign. I was so excited by this that I blurted out, “There’s an Elvis museum! Right next to the dildo museum!!
Sadly, I later learned that Elvis-O-Rama had closed years before. The “Museum of Erotic History” or whatever is still around, but we have never gotten around to that. Maybe we are waiting for a Groupon.
Later (2015?) some sort of Graceland-approved Elvis exhibit opened at the Westgate, but we missed that too.
They say the Estate of Elvis Presley makes much more money now than Elvis made when he was alive ( We will assume that he is not with us anymore for the sake of argument) But they are making it hard for me to contribute to that when they don’t have something going on in Vegas. Fortunately there are still a few Elvis impersonators around.
When I was a kid, some comic books would have ads proclaiming that you could “Throw your voice”; as I recall, it strongly implied that I could do things like make my mother think that my sister was talking back to her. Apparently they would send a non-rusty version of this device, and instructions of some sort. But what if someone asked you something? Were you supposed to keep a handkerchief or Kleenex handy to pretend to cough into?
This is some Jeff Dunham level stuff here. That would be most amusing to see what would happen if mom heard Evelyn say “I keeeel you!!” But I would have started cracking up and probably end up with this thing lodged in my trachea.
I see only three ladies, and apparently four guys came on this trip. You would think that that having the extra guy out on the lake instead of cramping their style would be a good thing? I would rather go fishing than hang around with these cranky fucks too.
We got some white rock (marble chips) to put in this little corner where our palm tree resides. I got the weeds out;
…But to my surprise, in mid January there already seems to be another palm tree start there. Or something interesting, anyway. It was under the mulch, guess I will cover it back up, and wait.
We were mulling over where to go on vacation this year. I had a crazy idea, we have a box of random postcards (because that’s what packrats do)… My idea was to blindly grab a postcard from the stack, and go there on vacation.
It would be wonderful to go to Mrs. Henderson’s Crown Point Chalet. Alas, this postcard is almost 100 years old. Her health failing, she sold the Chalet in the late 1920’s, and opened a small dining room in Portland. The depression caused that business to fail, and Mrs. Henderson died broke at age 58. This is from the MountHoodHistory.com website. I am assuming that Mrs. Henderson was a widow.
She should have put a picture of one of those home cooked chicken dinners on the back.
I am a mite concerned about early-onset dementia sneaking up on me. Last week, we had salad and spaghetti. Day one I put croutons on my spaghetti. Day two, salad dressing! It was good though.
In other news… I used to go out with a girl named Ginger, but I am kinda glad nothing came of it; she would probably be snapping at me all the time.
We took this picture when our cat Maize was at the vet. I recently learned that when you wrap a cat up like this, it’s called a “purrito”. It pays to increase your word power!
Apparently some hippie took some newspaper articles and this deceptive invitation, and Mod-podged the hell out of this wooden cigar box.
You have to wonder if some Nixon supporters got all excited to read “You are cordially invited to attend the inauguration of Richard Milhous Nixon…” only to find that it’s just a come-on to round up some college students, pacifists, mothers of draftees, hardcore leftists, recreational protesters, and assorted filthy hippies. I don’t think it was too cordial either.
But what do I know? I was 8. Riding around on my Schwinn with the banana seat, getting my bell-bottoms caught in the chain. (I don’t know what happened to my chain guard)
The clean air authority here in Washington is offering a big rebate for replacing our wood stove insert, under certain circumstances. So I was down on the floor looking for a serial plate or something to identify this monstrosity.
This model has channels underneath, and the kids that used to live here, used it to store toys I guess. I found some sort of light-up Lego thing, a gear that probably goes with that, a Hot Wheels car, a plastic dart, some pink(ish) nail polish, and a pile of rubble. You would think the nail polish would have burst into flame. The reporters would ask the fire marshal what caused the fire, and he would shrug and say, “Maybe it’s Maybelline.”
UPDATE: February 13th; still haven’t gotten word about whether we qualify for the rebate. I got nothing but time.