The Question
On Some Days
- On some days, I want to get away by myself to scream at the world. Yesterday was such a day. Stepped into the shower and screamed in silence. Was somewhat cathartic.
- I was driving along unlined streets in a residential neighborhood yesterday. Cars were parked along the side but there’s more than enough room for two cars to pass. Yet, so many drivers could not manage that. Driver age, sex, vehicle size…none of it seemed to explain it. People just couldn’t manage it. I thought it was because of the lack of lines. What tended to happen was that folks in one direction would stop so that folks proceeding in the other direction could drive straight down the middle. Young, old, male, female, all exhibited problems with it. “Just move over,” I’d tell them through the windshield. “Just use your side of the street. Honestly, it’s not that hard.” I should be more considerate of others but…on some days…it’s harder.
- Contemplating a favorite shirt’s fate. Like everything else, there is a season, turn, turn, etc. Bought this shirt back in 1999. Have photographic evidence of that, for there I am, wearing it in a dated photo. Nothing special, button down collar, long-sleeved, cotton, faded blue stripes on egg shell white. It’s been with me in two states, four houses, five companies, and ten cats (sigh.) (The cats were three to five at a time…) Probably paid about twenty-five dollars for the shirt. Can’t recall that, although I do recall that I bought it on sale at Macy’s. Good jeans shirt. Have gotten some compliments while wearing it, but mostly I like its style and comfort. It’s been gently descending the hill for years, evidenced mostly through armpit stains. I’ve washed those out with a lemon juice and baking soda process a couple times. Now, though…the collar is frayed. It looks like it’s time for the shirt to finally move on. I guess, properly, I’m moving on from the shirt.
- I feel like a prisoner sometimes. (Such an exaggeration, right?) I hate throwing things away, but it’s inculcated into my nature and our society. Besides the shirt, there’s now an electric kettle. Probably purchased ten years ago, the spring which helps the lid release and open no longer functions. Can it be fixed? Maybe…if I can find the right spring.
- I contemplate the conundrum. Savings are acquired by mass production. Costs are kept down by underpaying people and going to the margin on design and materials. Paying more can gain you more…maybe. You really can’t be sure. But after a few years, when the device or clothing fails, what do you do with it? Where does it goes? The recycling gig seems to be filling up and failing. That’s always been the fallback: recycle or repurpose. I have containers full of used shirts now relegated to being rags out in the garage.
- Dad was going to get a new stent this past week. His wife called. He’s eighty-eight. A COPD sufferer, he’d gone into the hospital on Monday to have his meds adjusted for his COPD. Suffering from edema resulting in a swollen left leg and foot, he was kept for observations and a stress test, and given diuretics. The stress test never happened; he was wheezing too much on that day, Wed. He was released on Thursday with plans to have the stress test done in the future. Meanwhile, he and his wife got the COVID-19 vaccination on Friday, which was paramount for them.
- I spent an hour on the phone chatting with Dad. He was in a talkative mood and opened up about his youth, something unusual for him. Mom and Dad divorced when I was about ten. He was in the military and oft stationed overseas, so I lived with him for about seven years total, including my final three years of high school. It was just him and me for two of those years. He worked, and I went to school, cleaned, and cooked. We didn’t see much of one another.
- Dad revealed that he met Mom in Sioux City, Iowa, when he was stationed there. (She’s from Turin, Iowa, and he’s from Pittsburgh, PA.) This was back in 1952. He was a radioman and she was a seventeen-year-old telephone switchboard operator. Too young to for her to marry in Iowa, they went to Luverne, Minnesota. There he discovered that while she was older enough (fifteen was the age for females there), he wasn’t old enough at twenty; he had to be twenty-one. Naturally, Dad managed to procure a letter with his father’s signature verifying that he was twenty-one. But no, wait. They told him that he had to have his mother’s signature. “Well, Mom is dead,” Dad replied. Then he called his father and said, “Can you tell these people that Mom passed?” That was done but he got grief for it from his parents for years.
- Joe Biden has been POTUS for a month and has yet to go golfing. By this point in his term, one month, Con Don had golfed six times. Donald Trump’s aides don’t want to admit the President is golfing – CNN Politics
- Enough whining and complaining for now. Got my coffee. Caspa, Uno Dos, and Billy await. They’re just meeting Spag and the recos for the first time. Time to go write like crazy, at least one more time.
Floof No More
Floof No More (floofinition) – Floof Bay Area alternative metal band formed in 1979. Their sound range includes fletal (floof metal) and clash metal, along with funk, floof-hop, and progressive rock. The band underwent several line-up changes in its early years. After releasing six albums, they disbanded in 1998, but came together again in 2009. They’ve since toured several times while releasing one new album.
In use: “The song “Epic” from the album, The Floof Thing, was Floof No More’s most well-received and well-known song in the Floofnited States.”
Floof-in
Floof-in (floofinition) – 1. Form of direct action employed by animals to keep people from doing things.
In use: “Max’s usual floof-in was to grab Mandy by the leg and howl and whimper when she started walking toward the door to leave, a tactic which often won a little more time for him while lathering the guilt over her.”
2. To relax by not doing anything but staying motionless with one or more pets.
In use: “During the pandemic, Dee started doing a floof-in more and more frequently, settling on the sofa with a couple books, a pot of tea, some cookies, and her dog and cat on either side.”
Saturday’s Theme Music
Saturday. February 6, 2021. 32 degrees F and foggy.
I was working the morning shift when the phone rang. A woman on the other end had called me with a warning. My car’s warranty had expired. I took down her details and told her I’d check it out.
Oh, sorry, began channeling Sergeant Joe Friday for some reason. Today’s sunset is at 5:32 PM. Sunrise was at 7:19 AM. In history, a month ago, Jan 6, 2021, insurrectionists stormed a session of Congress to ‘stop the steal’. Egged on the sitting POTUS, they were acting on fake information that he’d spread that his defeat was a result of massive fraud and that he had evidence. He’s never revealed his evidence. Nor has any of his mouthpieces.
Five people died that day, based on his lies. More have been arrested. Even more are being pursued be the FBI.
For some reason, “Karma Chameleon” by Culture Club (1983) gushed into my mental stream in an egregious ear worm incident, where it remains steady. I kept hearing, “You come and go, you come and go,” but the song doesn’t come and go. “Red, gold, and green, red gold, and green. Every day is like survival. You’re my lover, not my rival.”
Sorry. It took over. Little control over my writing thoughts seems in evidence today.
I thought then, that’s just the way you are, which invited the song, “Then the Morning Comes” by Smash Mouth (1999) into the stream. It successfully displayed Culture Club, so here we go.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask (unlike good ol’ Alfie Oakes).
Are you familiar with Alfie Oakes? Owns a grocery store in Florida where no one wears a mask. Says the pandemic is a hoax. Here’s an NBC News story snippet to introduce you to Alfie.
‘The store’s owner, Alfie Oakes, could not be reached for comment on Thursday. He told NBC’s “TODAY” show he knows masks do not work and doesn’t believe the coronavirus has killed hundreds of thousands of people in the United States.
“That’s total hogwash,” Oakes said, later adding, “Why don’t we shut the world down because of the heart attacks? Why don’t we lock down cities because of heart attacks?”‘
Yes sirrr, we have some veeerrry impressive thinking happening in that head.
Don’t be an Alfie. Wear a mask. Get the vaccine. Dance to some music. (Oh, no, I think I hear Sly and the Family Stone firing up.) “Then the Morning Comes”, stat!
Michael Seidel, writer 