He was working on a DIY project but could not find his putty knife. It was also time to prepare dinner so he’d gone out to get fish out of the chest freezer in the garage. Opening it, he first began looking for the putty knife. Realizing what he was doing, he closed the chest, turned to his workbench, and looked for the fish.
It’s election day in the U.S., one more time. The culmination of hopes, dreams, ideas, complaints, arguments, debates, and discussions about spending, revenue, who is charge, and what’s going to happen next but on a smaller scale than then ‘national’ elections.
They, the omniscient bureaucrats, put it into motion years ago and now we are here, on Tuesday, May 16, 2023. Ashlandia is enjoying lovely sprummer weather. Top temps struck 88 in my slice of the realm yesterday. Late afternoon showers put a damper on that. Timer and settings were for set for four minutes and light to moderate, so that rain was gone almost before you could smell the petrichor. Then thunder boomers commenced. Tucker was unbothered but Papi did a concerned low to the ground jog into the house, sitting down by me to keep him safe. Poor fellow.
It’s 62 F now, 8:30 in the AM. The usual routines have been fulfilled. Coffee is brewed and awaiting entrance into my alimentary canal, which I shall do as soon as the cooling is enough. Sunrise was well before six meows. Not true, really. Papi was in and out, meowing each time for assistance. It’ll be 84 F today, sunny and cloudy.
My biggest news was my cougar sighting. Happened at 10:45 PM. I like going out in the late evening to breathe the air and admire the celestial existence above me. Don’t turn on lights because that would ruin the moment — enough lights already on along the street, thanks — but do carry a small flashlight. This time, when I walked out, I saw an animal in the street start and do a lazy trot up the hill, a cat-like trot but waaayyy bigger than any cat I’ve known. About twenty feet away. Totally silent. Did I mention big? What was really striking was it’s looonnnggg tail.
I flashed the light at them but was too slow. They’d gone up around the corner. My concerns were for my cats. The front door was open behind me. Tucker was saunter-washing — two steps forward, pause to wash a paw, continue two steps — so I closed the door before he was out. Papi was already out, so I called for him sotto voce because I didn’t want the cougar to respond to my whistles, kissing sounds, and name-calling.
As I did that, I thought, did it look like the cougar had something in its mouth? Papi is just a little fourteen pounder. Amuse bouche for a cougar.
Then I went back in, related all to my wife, who was in bed, reading, and got my sword. I figured that if I’m to save Papi from a cougar, a sword would be useful.
I’d bought the sword a few years ago for Halloween. It’s made of wood about half an inch thick, thirty inches long. Stupid me gave away my ball gear, including bats, because I was no longer playing and some youths would make better use of it. Now what was there to ward off a cougar? A broom? Well, yeah…but, you know…image. The sword was better.
Papi didn’t return for hours, but he finally did. Found him on the back patio. He looked like he had a story to tell, seemed ready to spill on an adventure, like, “Damn, you wouldn’t believe the size of the cat I saw. They must be giving him a lot of treats. Cat that size probably just takes his own treats. I wish I was that big. Then I’d show that little dog next door.”
Cougar sightings aren’t unusual for Ashlandia. They’ve been spotting all over town, along with their kills, and kills being made. All is well, for now, though.
Today’s music arises from errand running yesterday, dropping off ballots — Oregon is all ‘mail-in’ but with drop boxes — pick up library books, mail a bill, and buy romaine. Meghan Trainor’s 2022 song, “Made You Look”, came on the car radio. Spouse turned it up with the comment, “I like this song. It’s fun.” I agree. Nice throwback doo wop vibe to it. Short, though, but fun. The Neurons liked it enough to loop it through the mental music stream. Thought it a good song for a cougar sighting — “I made you look.”
Stay pos and carry forward. The coffee has just been tested and The Neurons are pleased. Here’s the music. Cheers
It’s a little before 8 AM. It was already light as a cloudy day by 5 AM as the sunrise cruises closer to 5:30 AM. Floofs are fed Breakfast is et. 68 F outside, sunny, humidity of 54%, light breeze, warm but cool. Today’s high will be 83F. We did reach 93 in moi’s yard yesterday. It’s May 15, 2023. Under pretense of reminding me, my wife reminds herself, the guest room window will be replaced tomorrow, 3 PM. The guy, Chris, came 30 minutes early last time, so be ready 30 minutes early. Right, got it, I answer, once, twice, thrice, half-listening as I read.
The coffee has been poured. French roast. Smells woody, earthy, wonderful. Went onto the sun soaked back patio and sniffed it a bit as the breeze played and the cats washed.
I took a magnesium citrate this morning. Calf cramps, you know, walking, exercising, yard work, sweating. The Neurons immediately began playing “White Rabbit” by a group called Jefferson Airplane. Coming out in 1967, this psychedelic song worried Mom about what her eleven-year-old son was hearing.
The first sip of coffee has been sampled. As good as expected. Ready for more.
Stay pos. Carpe Monday. Time to imbibe more coffee. Maybe do the Wordle. Or shower and clean up. Or read? No, wait, today is food and friends deliveries.
Going well. He crossed his fingers and sacrificed a cup of coffee and a pen to ward off jinxing himself. One book was still being revised, the fourth go-around. Another novel, Yum, was being written. Spoon fed by the muses, he was tearing through the story. He envisioned a short novel, and so far, it was going to plan.
He watched his cats regard one another. Each feline seemed wary and doubtful of the other although they’d lived together for over six years. He believed that both cats thought of himself as the better floof and thought the other was a little crazy. Of course, being the better floof to them also meant that they were due more attention and treats than that other, inferior floofer.