Month: July 2023

Winceday’s Theme Music

We got you Wednesday here. *wince*. July 5, 2023. Back to work, ye scurvy dogs. 2023 is more than half gone. On the bright side, you have less than half left. *wince* Time is running up on you. You, me, and the rest.

Gonna be 97 F today. *wince*. Good thing it’s Wednesday. Meeting with friends to indulge in some cold beer. We’ve divided between the light and the dark sides. The light side will be partaking of an IPA while the dark side is going for ale, because it’s summer, and some of them don’t like their beer too dark in the summer.

Ah, such strange dreams this morning in the dark hours. *wince*. Don’t know what they meant, if anything. We had root beer floats with friends on their deck last night, another of our traditions. We usually watch fireworks with them. I’d rather not have the fireworks. Animals and environment don’t need that kind.

Fireworks were illegal this year in Ashlandia, where the bus doesn’t go all the way uptown and the children are chauffeured. Too dry and hot. Still beset by drought. Yet, there will be some who will set off their fireworks cause, ‘Merica. Freedom. Tucker didn’t mind them. Papi, though, hid out for hours. He’s okay this morning but he wasn’t a happy floofy last night.

Today’s music is “Stranger Blues” with Steve Miller and Peter Frampton. Just cause I like the sound, and not because of something said last night, causing The Neurons to start playing it, where it still plays in the morning mental music stream.

Stay pos, be chill, and don’t let the boogerheads get you down. Coffee is served, sir. Here’s the music. Enjoy, please.

Cheers

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Well, happy Fourth of July, Tuesday, 2023, to US citizens everywhere. We headed down to the Marsh-McGuire house down on Siskiyou, ’bout just under two miles from our place in Ashlandia, where the streets are clean and the sidewalks are crack. You’ll know the Marsh-McGuire house if you see it, it being the only brick house on Siskiyou south of the Plaza. It sits on the parade route and we’ve been going to this venue for about fourteen years, off and on, mostly being on. It’s a pot-luck open house. K made her almond tarts, several quiches were in residence, along with croissants, cinnamon cake, various fruit salads and fresh fruit, multiple muffins, deviled eggs and so on. Delicious fare, all that I tasted, per expectation from all the great food of the past. Showed up at 9:20 after walking half a mile with our chairs, because the roads are blocked off for the parade.

The parade began promptly at 10 with the city marching band. 10:02 saw the flyover, two F-15s from the state national guard. Favorite thing of the parade: guy in prison garb riding a bike, wearing a Donald J. mask.

Least appealing aspect of the parade: RFK Jr’s float and very vocal and surprisingly large contingent.

Short parade, though. We remember some years when it went over two hours and we were crying for mercy by the end. Today’s endeavor was completed in less than fifty minutes.

Several dance troupes were in there, which got Les Neurons going. After we left the parade, The Neurons introduced Bowie/Jagger and “Dancing In the Streets”. The song was originally a 1964 hit fo Martha and the Vandellas. The song was later covered by The Kinks and Van Halen. I enjoyed all three of those. But another cover, by Bowier/Jagger in 1985 to raise money for Live Aid came out of nowhere and took advantage of television to have fun. Check out the guitarists supporting this song in the recording of a live performance for the Prince’s Trust.

Stay chill and be pos. I’ve had coffee, thanks. Maybe go sip something a little colder and wetter, right? It’s a holiday, after all.

Sorry, technical issues held up the posting. WordPress Autosaving took it into an alternative dimension, as WP periodically does to my posts.

Here’s the tune. Cheers

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The Space Dream

I dreamed I was traveling through space. My house and its lot had been lifted away from the Earth, and there we went, soundlessly zooming through space. After thinking in the dream, is that what’s happening, I was given a distant perspective that confirmed, yep, there I go, with the house, wife, cats, and yard.

I pointed it all to my wife, calling to her as she did something in another room. All I had no idea what our destination was and had questions — was I onboard a larger ship, and who launched us like this — I enjoyed being out there. I was exactly as I now am, as was my house and yard. I saw this from a temporary external position, as though I needed to see it, before returning into my body. Settling behind my desk in my home office, I resumed my typing.

I awoke abruptly. In panic, I thought, where are the cats? Where are Tucker and Papi? Did I put them out? OMG, did I put them out in space? But if I put them out into the yard, wouldn’t they be safe, because it’s — it’s — wait.

Confusion mounting and taking over, I stumbled away from bed, thinking, where am I now? What should I do? If I open the door, would it — what would happen? But —

I’d been in space. But wasn’t that a dream? Or was I now dreaming? Neurons regrouping, we agreed with a laugh, being in space was the dream. Reality was that I was home, securely part of the Earth. But I went out and found the cats, ensuring they were really okay, just in case, you know, and then gazed up at the stars and moon for a few seconds with recollection of the dream.

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The Writing Moment

It’s been profitable but daunting work down in the novel mines. After chipping along with the pick for the right words, rich seams of plotting, story, character, and setting were found and worked out. Coming up each day, re-emerging into the real world, brought realizations of how deeply he was into it. Matters such as time, tasks, and news, were slipping past, undone, barely noticed. He promised himself, as soon as this novel is finished, he will take up other matters, work hard and catch up.

Yes, he makes the promise but other novels are out there, waiting to be written. He wonders if having a clone would help. It couldn’t be exact; the other fellow would need to be the one immersed in the real world, because he likes it too much, down in the novel mines.

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Monday’s Theme Music

And so the heroes arrived on Monday, July 3, 2023, after their exhausting journey through the treacherous months of May and June, coming at last to fabled Ashlandia, where the heroes are few and the animals are many.

Warm out there, and getting warmer. 94 F today, 97 F tomorrow. Which, for my household probably means 97 F today, 100 F tomorrow. A heat advisory warning us is out.

These are floof days. My cats just find a comfortable sleeping zone and stay there until around seven PM. Tucker has shifted himself to the back patio, by the house, on one corner, where a pleasant cool breeze sweeps by every now and again. Papi, more mysteriously, seeks out bedding under bushes on the house’s northern side, in the fence’s shadow. He’ll move to the front patio in late afternoon. But man, let me tell you, those cats are zonked out for that period. Water bowls are in front and back, ’cause I worry. They’ll partake, but they mostly sleep. Had a dream about them, too, but that’s another subject.

I have the Manfred Mann’s Earth Band cover of Bruce Springsteen’s “Blinded by the Light” (1977) running through the morning mental music stream. The cause was politically-oriented conversation with my spouse about the former POTUS, D.J. Trump. His supporters seem blinded by the light, IMO, unable to see any of DJT’s faults and shortcomings, just stumping for him, ignoring facts as they cheer and cheer. Just a strange sight to see. Of course, interviews with Trump supporters are often shocking, but the interviewer often seeks out the craziest of the crazy, painting a skewed portrait of DJT’s supporter. But, come on, when a man with his multiple marriages, children by various women, known sexist attitude, affairs, and stained business history is idolized as a saint, people will wonder, what happened to the supporters’ neurons? Where have they gone? Will they come back?

Stay positive, handle the weather and help others handle it. Remember to hydrate no matter what the heat or lack of in your locale. Coffee — which isn’t really good for staying hydrating but has such a wonderful smell and taste — ha, I sound blinded by the light, don’t I? — is served. Let’s rock.

Cheers

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Sunday’s Wandering Thoughts

I’m amused when elderly women flirt with me. Then I remember, I’m just three years short of seventy.

I’m basically their age, although that’s not how I see it in my optimistic mind’s eye.

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