Today is Sat-er-day, the day you get when someone asks, “What day is it,” and you begin to reply, “Sat-” and your brain yells, “Wait,” so you give a verbal pause, “er”, while the brain quickly reviews the answer — is it Saturday? — and then tells you, “Go ahead.”
It’s August 6, 2022, a lovely morning here in southern Oregon. The moon was silver and clear last night vice the pumpkin hues worn throughout the week’s first days, hues granted by fire particulates. Fires still rage but none closer than twenty to thirty miles. A shifting wind has dropped our AQI into small, healthy numbers. You feel for the others, of course. One person’s win is another’s loss. Wish it wasn’t so. The biggest threat is the closest conflagration, the McKinney fire, sixty thousand acres, ninety homes destroyed, thirty percent contained, just over the border. It’s rugged land.
It’s 20 C at the moment but will climb to 94 F before the day is done. Sunrise was an old-fashioned offering of pale silver light gracefully acquiring strength before turning white gold and warm. Started about 6:09 AM. Sunlight will rule until the setting commences at 8:24 this evening. Clouds? None to speak of.
I have “Stumblin’ In” by Suzi Quatro and Chris Norman playing in Sat-er-day’s morning mental music stream. Came about when The Neurons caught my wife stumbling. As the more rational brain rushed help to her and asked if she’s okay (and she was, it was a little trip over a hair on the floor or something), The Neurons began playing the 1979 song.
Alright, coffee is due, and then other activities will be engaged. Stay positive, test negative, and take care of thy self and thy loved ones and friends, and even those who aren’t loved ones or friends but need help, yeah? Let’s be careful out there as Sarge used to say on Hill Street Blues. Here’s the music.