Deeply immersed in an intensive writing session, he struggled coming out and adjusting to the light, sound, and activity outside of his head. Encountering an energetic, talkative friend, he could do little but smile and nod. After they parted, she probably thought him rude or something. He should have a tee shirt made that says, “I’m not being anti-social, but I’ve been writing.” ‘Cause the writing stays on even when he walks away from the session. If there’s an off-switch, he’s not sure where it is.
Floofgom
Floofgom (floofinition) – Floofish word that roughly translates to ‘just enough’ or ‘good balance’.
In use: “For many cats, when floofgom is reached when their belly is being rubbed, they will immediately announce, ‘That’s enough’, often by love bites or some quick claw action.”
Saturday’s Wandering Thought
We were talking about classes we wished we’d had when we were young. Like, explanations about how much your body might change as you age. We knew that would happen, of course. Saw it in mother and father, aunts and uncles, etc. But how do you impress how much of it’s within and outside of your control, and how there is an accumulative impact? Despite exercise and health, some of these things take you by surprise and take you down, mentally, physically, emotionally.
Maybe such information is now being taught. Of course, with the net and technology, more of it is available.
Sa’day’s Theme Music
July 22, 2023. It’s a warm, quiet Saturday morning in Ashlandia, where the trees are old and so are most of the people. 71 F with smoke — a light haze, really — nature is pressing on the pedal and taking us up to 95 F. That’s where she likes cruising in our life zone these days.
The thing about our weather is that it’s a slow build. Sweetly pleasant in the morning, it gets warm but not uncomfortable. People go outside and exclaim how nice it is. Stays like that, gently skipping through the low 80s. Then, around 3 PM, BAM. You hear a noise and look at one another. “What’s that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sounded like it was outside.”
“We’d better go look.”
So we leave our cool enclosure and walk out and then, say to each other as we fan our faces, “Oh my god, it’s so hot out.”
The cats then shift into deeper shadow. Papi and Tucker, who normally stay away from one another, make a treaty and settle in shade on the porch, riding out the heat until the evening, when hostilities re-commence. The heat stays in the air until after nine on these nights, then scales down into the high seventies by ten. Windows and doors are opened to receive the cool night air. Sleep, rise, repeat.
We’re heading to Lake of the Woods Resort. Less than an hour from us up in the low mountains, the small lake is comforted by tall, old trees. Doesn’t get nearly as hot, and the lake breezes are muy refreshing. A band will be playing and BBQ will be underway. They’ll be dancing and socializing like it’s 1988, as the band, Saucy, covers songs from that area. Should be a good time. I’m excited about going.
Perhaps because of the heat, I have a Lover Boy song from 1983, “Hot Girls in Love” in the morning mental music stream (trademark dismissed). I can only guess the hot weather is why The Neurons slipped into the MMMS. Other guesses are welcomed.
Remain positive, stay calm, and keep on keeping on. The coffee has been injected, I mean, sipped. I feel my energy rising. Keep it real. Hey, ho, let’s go. Here’s the tune.
Cheers
Friday’s Wandering Thoughts
He watched a series called “Quarterbacks” on Netflix. It focused on three NFL quarterbacks. One of them is Patrick Mahomes of Kansas City. After a big play that clinched a game for his team, Mahomes ran around the field, jumping and shouting, “That’s what I fucking do. That’s what I fucking do. That’s what I fucking do.”
He admired the man’s enthusiasm, energy, and celebration. Maybe after finishing a chapter in the novel in progress, he should celebrate in the same way, leaping up and running around the coffee shop shouting, “That’s what I fucking do. That’s what I fucking do. That’s what I fucking do.”
Probably wouldn’t go over too well, he decided. Disrupt the ambiance too much. Best to just continue celebrating successes with private exultation.
Friday’s Theme Music
Mood: upbeat
Greetings from Ashlandia, where the political arguments are on Next Door and the homeless wander the streets. It’s Friday, 7/21/23. 66 F and smoky now. Smoke from the Flat fire to the west (15K + acres, 936 personnel fighting it, no word on containment or lining) is the primary source. The air quality is creeping up into the moderate range and warnings out that it’s gonna be unhealthy for us this weekend. High today will be in the 97 to 99 degrees F — let’s just call it 98 F.
Had an interesting moment last night. I enjoy yogurt with granola as an evening snack. I generally use this cup I bought at a thrift shop about thirty years ago. Cost me a dollar. Use it for my evening yogurt and my morning oatmeal. Wash it out after use, and set it on a pad to dry.
Last night, I began putting the yogurt into a drinking glass situated by my yogurt cup. Almost immediately stopped with a “WTF” demand of myself. Poured the yogurt out of the glass into the cup and washed the glass but it shook me, doing such an absent-minded thing.
And reading this, I think, man, am I a best of habit or what?
We went to the city band concert in the park last night. Wonderful time. I’d been concerned about heat, crowds, smoke. But Lithia Park at 6:30 PM was cool, shady, comfortable, and smoke free, and a pleasant evening was had. The concert theme was children. Children were provided with kazoos, conductor batons, and little bubble blowers, and were instructed and encouraged to use it all. The concert began with an introduction of each of the instruments present, with the players each playing a brief solo so we could hear their instrument’s sound. Some amusing moments as the bass tubas offered us the Jaws warning followed by a little “Baby Shark”
What really impressed me was the children’s energy. Flying up and down the lawn, traveling at the speed of sound around its perimeter, dancing in crazy ways, tumbling and rolling. Amazing.
I got “Oh, Pretty Woman” stuck in the morning mental music stream (trademark fabricated). The neurons introduced it to the stream yesterday afternoon when I came home and said, “Where’s my pretty woman?” Interesting thing is that The Neurons couldn’t decide if they wanted the Roy Orbison version from 1964 — Roy co-wrote the song and was the original performer — or the 1982 cover by Van Halen. I’ve ended up with a mixed tape of the two versions in the morning MMS but I went with an Orbison version. Gotta admit, love how it opens, and the clean sound, along with Roy’s terrific voice. Some terrific backup performers give the presentation a new dimension. Springsteen’s performance cracks me up.
Stay positive and strong as new carbon steel. Got my coffee, and I’m firing up my Friday mode. Here’s the music. Cheers
Car Dream
I usually dream of sports cars, especially Porsches. Last night, I dreamed I was standing on the side of a divided highway. Seemed like an Interstate. I never saw myself so I don’t know what dream version of me was being offered up.
I was waiting for a car, though. A white Chrysler was coming. I wasn’t familiar with this Chrysler — I’ve never owned one and I would’ve been five when this car was on the road though I’d naturally know them as used cars — but I knew the one coming, a sparkling white convertible from the early 1960s, with a large chrome grill and front reflecting the landscape as it came on, was the car I awaited.
That’s all the dream was, except when I saw it coming, I thought, at last. Looking it up today, here was the car of my dream.
Michael Seidel, writer 