Tuesday’s Theme Music

Did the conveyor belt of calendar days speed up? It’s already Tuesday, Feb. 1, 2022. I feel like George Jetson sometimes. The cat and dog sped up the walkway and now it’s a runaway, leaving George shouting, “Jane, stop this crazy thing,” as he goes round and round. Yes, time can feel like a crazy thing.

This morning’s sunrise at 7:24 AM seemed sudden. I was watching out the window on the southeast side where the sun first makes it way over my house in the winter. The slow rise was expected, but then it was like the sun leaped up over the mountain, blinding me as it shouted, “Gotcha!”

It was up to 33 F by that point. The water in the outside pet dish was frozen. I told my cat last night, when we went out at midnight and gazed at the clear, star-filled sky, “It’s gonna be a cold one, dude.” Not as cold as other places; these things are relative. I guessed 29, 30, which was on the mark.

Our high will be like yesterday, about 45 F, which is our winter average in Feb. Sunset will come at 5:25 PM. That means ten full hours of sunlight today! Woo hoo! But — still looking for that rain and snow. Worries about drought, wildfires, the snowpack, and reservoir levels hover over the pleasant winter hours.

When I was out walking yesterday, my mind drifted through writing projects and DIY issues before the mental jukebox turned on. It was on random, but Whitesnake with “Is This Love” was left playing in the morning mental music stream. The song was released in 1987 and the song and video have such a glam rock 80s vibe — the hair, the women in tight dresses, the beat, the guitar styling. What a scene.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, get the vax when you can, and let’s get off this crazy thing. Here’s the music. Ah, coffee. Such a wonderful aroma. Now, to taste.


The White House Extravaganza Dream

The White House Extravaganza Dream was long, detailed, and complicated as a Game of Thrones season. It’d take too long time and words to recount it completely, so I’m offering a few bullets.

  • I was in my mid-twenties. My wife and I were staying a luxurious mini-suite. We were discussing where to go eat when we remembered, “Oh, wait, we have the White House today.”
  • She and I were one of several hundreds on the tour. My family and brothers-in-law were on it, too. As an interesting side, they were their current ages while I was young.
  • The White House wasn’t the familiar edifice. I never saw the outside, but the inside was an extensive complex. Furniture and carpets were in cranberry hues.
  • Guides were always around, answering our questions, leading us into new halls and places, explaining things, and watching after us. The guides were all dressed in cranberry-colored slacks and vests, with long-sleeved light-blue shirts. The senior guide was an elegant female person of color.
  • They fed us a lot during the tour. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks. I ended up declining food. After eating one meal, they offered us smoothies. I turned them down because I was too full. I was amazed that others took them.
  • I didn’t meet the POTUS but the Secret Service stopped a small group of us because the POTUS was in the room. A slender, bald person of color, the POTUS he wore a dark cranberry suit, speaking about jazz while getting his shoes shined. When he finished, he waved to us and walked away down another hall. We were all very excited and pleased to see him.
  • We’d also gone on the White House water park rides. They showed us slides and videos of us on the different rides, laughing and having fun.
  • At one point on the tour, as we were being escorted from one hall to another, a young white man called me out and stopped me. Introducing himself as a WH aide, he provided me with a business card. Before giving it to me, he turned it over and wrote in pen. He said, “That’s a code to reach me any time that you need help or want anything. Just call the number and give them the code, and they’ll put you through.” I was amused. I couldn’t imagine what help I would need from the WH. No one else received such a card to my knowledge.
  • Toward the end, I needed to use the restroom and stopped at the underground WH gas station. (Yeah, ns.) I was first to arrive of five men. The room was occupied. We were not in line but standing apart. Although I was first, I let the others go ahead of me. While there, a man had a large four-wheel drive Ford pickup. Jacked up, with huge tires on chrome wheels, it was painted glossy red. He had a panel on the bed raised. I looked inside and saw an orderly line of transfer cases and differentials. While I was baffled why he had so many, the layout impressed me. “But where is the engine?” I asked, even though I knew it was a pick-up truck, the engine should be in the front. But I spotted it in the back, a huge black and chrome unit.
  • At one point in the WH dream tour, I noticed the carpet had tiles made to look like shoes. I then discovered that these included outlines of my family members’ shoes. They were enormous, much larger than my shoes. I laughed at that.

The dream was livelier than these words portrayed. I felt energetic and lifted when it ended. Its sharpness and details amazed me.

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