Another Monday has come around, to lift you up or tear you down, depending on your point of view, and what it is that you’re trying to do.
November 22, 2021, has broken like many other days. Bright sunshine blasting light on everything under blue skies unencumbered by smoke or cloud arrived on the Ashland scene at 7:10 AM and will swivel away, leaving us in darkness alleviated by artificial lights at 4:44 PM. Nothing of this day portends murder, death, and chaos, but it’ll happen somewhere. Perhaps the weather there is giving warning signs.
We saw freezing temperatures last night. Got up to 33 F after the sun broke, which stayed as the temp for some time. It has risen to 36. We expect something in the fifties but this feels like aunter, that season between autumn and winter when leaves are still turning and falling but winter’s advance cold marches in and chills us.
I have Jethro Tull, “Bungle in the Jungle” out of 1974, in the morning mental music stream. This came about because of granola. I decided brekkie would feature oatmeal, a pretty standard breakfast for me. I like granola on my oatmeal. Adds crunch, heft, flavor. Several granola styles are in the pantry. I thought I’d save one of them for later in the week, prompting me to remember, “Eating their nuts, saving their raisins for Sunday.” This is, you know, a line from the song. Thereafter, Ian and the gang played live in my head from the record player that still exists in brain’s teen cellar, where all things teen are stored.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax and booster when ye can. Also, coffee up. I’m going to. It’s cold morning and coffee warms me well. Also stimulates the muses to come so I can write. Muses are so fond of the coffee smell that all I need do is spritz a little ground coffee scent about and they flit right in.
Here’s the music. Cheers