Puttering & Remembering

I was given this table by some friends. It's got a curious Danish design, it's very strong, and I know my cats will find it a useful place to play and sleep. If I'm lucky I'll get to use it too.

The surface is veneered, and the damage was from water, heat, and grease rather than sharp objects or impacts. It was probably used in a kitchen with a cloth always over it. I sanded it but it's been many years since I've done much with furniture and I made the classic mistake of sanding too far down and through the veneer in a few spots. Happily, I don't care. The furniture wonks won't see the defects through the pile of furry beasts.

I missed blipping yesterday mostly because my friend Mike Oliver, who I blipped about only last week, died at 10:45 pm in his sleep. The cancer was so advanced when he was first diagnosed (about one month ago) that he never even got the chance to have a coherant conversation about his imminent death with his family. It's almost as though he was felled suddenly by a heart attack or accident.

The moment today when I most vividly thought of Mike and the days when we spent endless hours together in the 1970s was when I was coming home with a Car Share vehicle. The thing had a web radio that I never found my usual station on, and I wound up listening to a "classic Rock" station. I was parking to unload groceries when THIS came on, but it's so rare now for me to hear music from that era on a good sound system that it was slightly shocking to hear the super-familiar music. A short while later as I drove to return the car to its pod, it was THIS. By now I was transported to my mad days --never mind the party stories for now, but there were so many days and nights spent roaring along roads in big comfortable cars, listening to these songs blast out of great speakers that it makes my head spin to think of it now. Tonight the tunes and the sound quality brought me back and made me turn up the volume.

I'll blip off by toasting my old buddy with another favorite by Lou Reed that used to put us in a sort of manic trance.

Goodbye, Mike!