Sunday’s Theme Music

Sunday arrived like a Monday morning, on time and as expected. Cool and smoky.

Today is August 29, 2021. This is it. If you vowed to do things during August — clean cupboards, fly to the moon, bake a cake for a friend, write a novel — you better find the go button.

Sunrise settled its glowing blanket over our dried out brown and green valley at 6:33 AM. Sunset will be 7:49 PM. Our high temperature will be in the mid nineties.

We have a few warnings for you today for Jackson County, Oregon, including Ashland. Excessive heat warning, so don’t go outside. COVID-19 is still raging out here, climbing to levels that bring the national news services to the area to write stories about how bad it is in hospitals, so don’t go anywhere without your mask. Also, the air is rated unhealthy to extremely unhealthy so don’t go outside unless you must. Masking is suggested. Also, don’t exert yourself too much while you’re out there. A red flag warning has been issued for fires, so you know, be careful and don’t use power tools outside. Finally, there’s a drought still underway, so don’t waste water. Other than these stipulations and limitations, feel free to go nuts.

My mind started the morning with pieces of dreams. Most of them evaporated, leaving me to look at fragments and wonder what was going on there, sort of like we do when ancient ruins or old family photographs are found. Then, I thought about “Friends”. Have you heard about this? It was a television show about a gang of people – a brother and sister, and, well, their friends and room mates, and work and relationship entanglements presented in a humorous way. I believe it’s called a ‘sitcom’. On NBC in the states for a while. It’s also been on reruns sometimes after it went out of production. Anyway, I was thinking about the friends’ parents. Liked how the parents were written into their lives and relationships, and the actors who played the parents, but I was thinking mostly about Chandler’s father, played by Kathleen Turner.

Whew. Got that out of my system. I then checked out the landscape, thought about the situation, and concluded, Jesus, get me out of here. That prompted the Gospel song turned rock hit, “Jesus Is Just Alright” to kick off in the morning’s mental music stream. After re-acquainting myself with the DC Talk version and the Byrd’s version, I went back to the Doobie Brothers and pulled a recording of a live version off the net. The song doesn’t have many words. You can learn them quickly, I think. So feel free to sing along.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as necessary, get the vax, and be careful out there. Here’s the music. You listen while I go get my starter fluid, aka, coffee. Also need to turn on the air purifier because it smells like smoke in here. Cheers

The Zombies Are Here

The zombies are here.

He wasn’t surprised. Not eating brains. Yet. No. Just a matter of time. Someone will probably tell them that eating brains will save them from the coronavirus or something. He wouldn’t put it past them.

He’d been expecting the zombies for a while. They’d quit thinking several years ago. Clearly were unthinking and undead, not caring about anything except themselves and the undermining of their so-called freedoms.

What else could they be but zombies? Living in such an alternative world, believing ridiculous conspiracy theories for which proof wasn’t offered. Well, okay, sometimes they tried to put up some ‘proof’ – or their idea of it – but then it was shot down. You know, like masks don’t work. Vaccines will magnetize you. The coronavirus is a hoax. No worse than the flu. There’s a secret child sex ring on Mars. Trump is still secretly POTUS. And take ivermectin for the virus that doesn’t exist, that’s no worse than the flu. Now they were trying to blame Biden for Afghanistan. Biden, who has been in office for seven months, who took office twenty years after the war in that poor country began.

Yep, the zombies are here.

Saturday’s Theme Music

Powerful sunshine kicked in the day. I blinked against the golden warmth. “Sol. What time is it?”

“Time to raise your derriere from the dead.”

“Seriously, time.”

“Time to rise and — “

“Sol, it’s too early.”

“6:32 AM.” Sol sat, flipping rays back from his face. “It’s also Saturday, August 28, 2021, if that matters to you, the last Saturday in August.” Sol sighed. “September is next week, you know. Soon, I’ll be a wintry sun, mourning the cold land from a sad distance.”

“Not everywhere. Just up in the northern climes.”

“True.” Sol sniffed. “An advantage of being omnipresent. I’m always somewhere. Got any coffee?”

“I’ll make some.”

My slumber ended, I peed first, then shuffled into the kitchen. Cats greeted me, falling into step. The necessary feeding detour was executed. “How long are you here today, Sol?” I asked the sun as he joined me in the kitchen.

“Until 7:52 in the evening, thereabouts.” Sol perched himself on the counter. “And I’m in a hot mood. Think it’ll be ninety-five to a hundred today.”


Sol watched the coffee making. “Make it strong. I like it strong.”

“Of course.”

“I am the sun, you know.”

“Right, right, got that.”

Sol and I began channeling David Bowie music, falling back into some of his early seventies stuff as coffee brewed, basically working through a compilation album with “Diamond Dogs”, “Rebel, Rebel”, “Space Oddity”, “Changes”, and “Suffragette City”. By the time we finished our first cuppa, we were belting out “The Jean Genie”. Sol and I agreed that should be today’s theme music.

As Sol told me, stay positive — “Like me, I’m always sunny, hah!” — test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax. Here’s the music. Cheers


Floofpetitive (floofinition) – 1. Action or activity persistently completed for an animal, especially a pet.

In use: “His floofpetitive routine began every morning with fresh water — two bowls — followed by the feeding of the three feline princes, and then the daily morning love session (each demanded private personal time to be petted and doted upon), and the litter box cleaning. The routine was done again in the evening.”

2. An activity or motion repeated many times by an animal.

In use: “Whenever Pam sat down, her cat jumped up on her lap and commenced floofpetitive grooming of her face and hair, often employing her paws to hold Pam’s head still.”

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