Bill and Sheila's Saturday In the Big Town

Yesterday, Sheila had to work a couple of hours at TU first thing.  That is fairly common these days.  A couple of the professors have her doing the publishing set up (really tough typing) on a new Chemical Engineering textbook they are writing.  She is one of the few folks around who can handle complicated equations in word processing software.  She also still maintains a website for TU and is getting ready to build another one for the one professors who also runs an oil patch consulting firm.

While Sheila was at TU, I ran over to Coweta and picked up my new electric guitar.  I know this is going to sound insane but I returned the uber expensive, pro-quality Gibson I recently purchased and instead ordered a child sized Fender Squier Mini-Strat.  No, I am not insane.  I had good reasons.

I fiddled with the Gibson for over a week before I returned it.  It was wonderful.  I could almost use sexual metaphors to describe the experience.  I say almost because, despite the sheer beauty of it and the to-die-for neck, I couldn't get it to sound good for me. I have three separate amp systems, a tiny all-in-one Vox that includes all of the effects including a mic mixer and a rhythm machine, a medium sized acoustic amp that includes a mic channel and a small room (under 200), multi-channel, PA system.  No matter how hard I tried and what combination of settings I used I could not get the sound out of my existing sound systems that I knew the Gibson was capable of producing. Cheaper guitars actually sounded better on all of my sound systems.  After several fruitless sessions, I realized that the Gibson needed a lot more amp than I had on hand and frankly, after spending way over a grand already I wasn't all that gung ho about spending that much again for an amp to make it happy. And frankly, aside from all of that, I really couldn't see myself walking away from THAT guitar on a gig and enjoying myself.  I would be sitting right there with it until I carried it out of the building.  There are an amazing number of grab and run thefts of high dollar guitars.  So, reluctantly, I shipped it back for a refund.

I ordered a child sized guitar this time around because I have arthritis in my hands, arms and shoulders.  A few years back, I bought a "Baby Martin" acoustic and found that I could play it for hours without pain.  I ordered a cheap Fender because, if you are going to take a project to build anyway, there are thousands of choices for upgrades and everybody knows how to work on them.  Over time, as I "hot rod" it, the Mini-Strat will turn into a useful little axe.

I know it is possible to get good sound out of these little guys because I have been asking around on the net.  I knew that I couldn't be the only old picker that had discovered that playing a reduced sized guitar relieved arthritis problems.  Turns out there are some pro's out there gigging with these little guys, particularly older folks and folks with small hands. And the sound, while not as good as my dearly beloved Les Paul's, is still good enough.  I'm not a Fender fan but frankly, when modified properly, these little guys sound about as good as any other Strat to me.  Here is an example of an older guy doing pretty well with one.



The mini-strat was a mess out of the box.  It came equipped with a set of Chinese strings that sounded like they had been made out of old bailing wire.  It went out of tune when you played certain chords and the intonation was ridiculous.  I darn near just sent it back.  But, I called my old friend Robert Smith who makes his living playing various Fender axes and asked him what was going on.  He took a look at it and a couple of days later the little sucker stays in tune, has near perfect intonation and generally is a playable guitar.  It's nowhere near where I want it yet, but Robert's professional set up was good start.  A high tech carbon fiber nut, a set of pro quality pickups and a set of the good quality tuners are the next jobs on the agenda.

After that, Sheila and I got together and we ran our usual weekend errands, dropping off the laundry and dry cleaning, pharmacy stuff, etc.  I was particularly pleased that we happened to catch Academy on a day when the bulk .22 LR ammo was not sold out.  We got to purchase two bricks.  That should keep me in range ammo for a month or two without having to go buy it a hundred rounds at a time.  I have nothing but admiration for Academy Sporting Goods for holding the line on ammo prices and making a point of treating their customers fairly. And, I have nothing but scorn for dealers like Dong's Sporting Goods which send their employees to Academy and Wal Mart to buy all of the ammunition they can and then mark it up to twice the price for re-sale.

We had bad incident at lunch.  I decided to suspend my boycott of Cracker Barrel for a day and have lunch there.  As Sheila and I were walking in, a younger teen-aged black boy was sitting in one of the rockers and working it pretty hard.  As we walked up, he stared intently at us.  His look was pure hatred.  I know that look.  If we had been walking down a lonely street or a dark alley there would have been trouble.  As I kept my eyes on him, I was reminded that there have been several violent incidents in the parking lot of this very Cracker Barrel and armed robberies are common at Cracker Barrel locations around the nation.  I had a gun in my front pocket and was carrying a cane that is guaranteed to break a knee cap or split a skull if necessary so I wasn't worried about him.  I just wondered what in the world that child had been told or taught that could make him hate and want to do violence to people he had never seen before.

When they do it right, Cracker Barrel makes a wonderful turkey sandwich.  Real roast turkey and grill toasted, fresh baked bread served with a side of steak fries.  They didn't do it right this time.  There was one little knot of turkey on one side of the sandwich and the steak fries were cold, limp and greasy.  Between walking the gauntlet to get in the door and the poorly executed food, all on top of firing a Viet Nam Vet for giving a corn muffin to a homeless person, I've had it with them.  Cracker Barrel is off our list.

After supper, we went to Mike and Jodi's for a swim.  We passed a very pleasant couple of hours in their pool chatting and sipping wine coolers. When we go to Mike and Jodi's for a pool session, Sheila and I often just wear our swimsuits.  Yesterday evening, I was very careful to take my weapon out of my pocket, take my cellphone out of my pocket, and carefully put my glasses away on one of the deck boxes.  I didn't realize that I had left my wallet in the back pocket of my swimsuit until I stepped out of the pool two hours later. When I got home, I was amazed at how much now soggy but very important paper I carried in my wallet. OOPS. We'll see how much it survives today.

Despite the little disasters at Cracker Barrel and the pool, overall it was nice day in the Big Town.