I enjoy her description of as being a scavenger. I’d not thought of it, but I’m the same, a scavenger of things I hear, read, and observe.
Lauren Grodstein Said
Friday’s Wandering Thought
Since retiring from the military in the 1990s, I’ve had health insurance through various Tricare programs, which replaced CHAMPUS. Most recently, my coverage was mandated to be Tricare for Life. It worked well. Of course, to continue using TFL, I was required to sign up for and start paying for Medicare once I became 65 years of age, which happened two years ago. This is a vein of the product called ‘Tricare for Life Medicare’.
I was recently hit with a bill for lab work done earlier this year. The lab bill was $300 and I had to pay $108 of that.
That surprised me. Investigating my benefits, I found that Medicare paid part. I thought TFL would cover the rest, but no; Tricare for Life Medicare doesn’t cover preventative lab work, only such work for life-threatening issues.
After a life of being pushed to be proactive and take preventative measures to find and treat health conditions in early stages, it seems like an odd turn of coverage. Makes me re-think what they were thinking when they called the program ‘Tricare for Life’.
Floofspeak
Floofspeak (floofinition) – An implanted device used by animals to speak to other species. Origins: first suspected by humans during witch trails in the American Colonies in the 1700s.
In Use: “Although ‘implanted’ is the term used, many floofocologists now believe that floofspeak is either a quantum matter or magic, as no implanted devices have ever been found.”
In Use: “Animals often sit mutely staring at humans as they attempt to use floofspeak to converse, but then will leave in exasperation, or resort to coarse noises to speak with the humans.”
Recent Use: “An Irish floofocologist, Kitty McAleer, claimed to have found significant revelations about floofspeak in a set of recovered documents collectively known as the The Floofy Codices. Although stored in a secure place, the documents disappeared before they could be made public, including digital photographs which were initially made. Ms McAleer cites the document’s disappearance as clear evidence of “animals’ unique, even supernatural skills to access places”, and believes her house pet, a Tom named Phelan, provided inside intelligence which aided the thieves.”
Friday’s Theme Music
Mood: weathering
Been under the weather for the last five days but green tea, napping, and patience has it feel like it’s ending. Time, you know, will reveal if that’s true. Wasn’t too much of a sickness, you know, just some energy-depleting, momentum robbing thing lurking in my guts, drumming in my head, and burning out my eyes. Through it all, though, I’ve had positive if frenzied dreams.
Today is 12/22/23. It’s the Friday before Christmas and all through the house, everything’s about as usual. Cats sleeping, Papi on the sofa, Tucker under the dining room table. They look sweet when they sleep like that, and they are sweet boys, although they’re a little emotionally damaged from whatever they endured before arriving at our door.
The heat is on — so is the fireplace — because it’s cold outside, baby. Was 33 F and foggy; now it’s 37, foggy, and rainy. Ain’t no sunshine taking up space in the sky.
My wife has been baking and baking. She admits that she became a little carried away with her intentions but the kitchen is at last still, the baked goods prepared as gifts except for the ones she took with her to exercise class to dole out.
As for the news —
Yeah. We know. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Weird song stuck in the morning mental music stream (Trademark deflated). Song by The Turtles, “She’d Rather Be With Me”, released when I was eleven bloody years old, was thrown into the mmms as I emptied the dishwasher and cleaned the kitchen. The giggling Neurons wouldn’t say why they put that song in, seemingly amused that I even asked. One sputtered, “You should know,” and they all guffawed and covered their mouths like they were all in on a joke that I should know. Damn Neurons.
This was another song learned through the 1960s routine of someone playing it on a record at home (the older sis is the culprit today) and hearing it repeatedly on TV and the radio. The video, in fact, comes to us from The Ed Sullivan Show.
Stay positive, test negative, be strong, and take care of yourself. The holidays are almost over. For some of you, it’s a happy time, for others, we endure. Off to get coffee. Here’s the music. Cheers
Thursday’s Theme Music
Mood: sleepy
Good afternoon from Ashlandia. Sunny and 56 F, this Thursday afternoon is muy different from our launching point. Starting at 35 F, fog descended on us, doing a suburb turn at shutting down the world to wandering car lights and noises behind a curtain.
So, still no snow. A friend who resides above Mt Ashland, which is our local ski resort, told us yesterday there was little snow and the morning temperature was 40 F. Snow isn’t in the immediate future. Meawhile, water is on our mind. The town is finally getting around to building a new water treatment plant. They’ve been talking about this for years. In the time where they wallied around it, the price has gone up; five years ago, the intended size was cut to reduce costs, and the price has has double, to about 70 mill. To pay for it requires our water prices to increase by 10% each year for the next six years. That’s on top of an average water bill which is the third highest in Oregon at 61.71 a month. Look at it compares to our neighbors, Medford (32.13), Phoenix (45.97) and Talent (47.86).
Happy solstice as well, as this is December 21, 2023. We used to celebrate the winter solstice with company, fires, drink, cake, soups, salads, and bread. Then, come COVID, we shut down and haven’t picked it back up.
Our morning was spent on grocery shopping as we diced with traffic and plied the cement river called I-5 up the highway to Medford. Costco was hellabusy while Trader Joe’s was casual, and Target was busy but tired. After those stops, we paused at a restaurant to scarf down food like we were starving cats and then headed back home, a nap, and more errands. Now we pick up the remains of the day.
Today’s music is Billy Idol’s rockabilly cover of “To Be A Lover” out of 1986. The Neurons stuck it into the morning mental music stream (Trademark rockin’) after my wife’s comment about something elicted “Have mercy,” as my response. Hearing that, The Neurons ran with it and the song was soon busy in my head. I’d never seen any video of it until now, and watching today, I laughed, remembering Idol’s sneering attempts to lather everything with sexual energy. So 1980s.
Stay pos, be strong, and enjoy your solstice whether it’s summer or winter.
Floofpertoire
Floofpertoire (floofinition) – 1. A stock of moves, looks, sounds, or behavior that an animal knows or uses to control, coerce, or manipulate humans. Origins: Late Latin
In Use: “Many animals seem to develop a floofpertoire for how to get humans to cozy up to them, feed them treats, and keep them safe, and it seems like it might just be a gift shared through some great floofscious in the sky.”
Recent Use: “As with many human endeavors, more discussion has recently arisen about whether animals and their floofpertoire is a matter more of nurture or nature.”
2. Behavior, tricks, and sounds employed by humans to train, control, coerce, or manipulate animals.
In Use: “People in different countries learn how to talk to animals in their own language, but there does seem to be a universal floofpertoire for successfully domesticating animals.”
Recent Use: “Facebook, Reddit, and YouTube are all exploding with new tricks to add to your floofpertoire to gain animals’ trust, bring them back home, or to get them safe, happy, healthy, and entertained.”
Wednesday’s Theme Music
Mood: prissy
December 20, 2023 is a Wednesday and carries the weight of spring. Confused by the signals the weather is giving, some flowers are blooming. We surfed a night of smooth rain, overnight lows in the mid 40s F. Our high today will bubble into the mid 50s. Casual clouds, thin and stretched, barely mask the blue sky. The cats are struggling to adjust, shedding fur after gaining their winter coats and now finding they don’t need them. Great clumps are left wherever they pause to sleep or wash.
Please, though, give us snow on the mountains. Please. It’s needed.
I surfed the news but left it after a short visit. Not depressing so much as it’s meh. We’re in a waiting stage for some many outcomes and perpetually checking and reviewing developments, breaking news, new revelations of old news and prognostications about what will happen has become tedious. I’m ravenous for some sense of an ending.
Musically, first I had “Too Marvelous for Words” whirling around the morning mental music stream (Trademark pummeled). It’s been performed by a long list of crooners but Mom often played Frank Sinatra’s cover while cleaning around the house. Released in 1956, the year of my birth, it’s drummed into my musical psyche. I have no idea why The Neurons voted it into my mind this morning.
But before it became too comfortable, a song inspired by the floofs was brought into the mmms. Released in 1972, “Children of the Revolution” by T. Rex had Elton John and Ringo Starr playing as part of the lineup. Although I enjoyed it, it went out of head until I heard the Violent Femmes version of it. A friend was colossal Femfan, and was playing the song in her car one day when we went to lunch together in Palo Alto. I asked if she knew the song’s origins, and then gleefully told the tale. I’d only heard it after my cousin, just returned from the UK where his father had been stationed with the USAF, played it.
How did the floofs play into this memory? I’d been teasing them, trying to trick them by pretending they weren’t being fed. They weren’t fooled, which triggered me singing, “You won’t fool the kitties of the revolution.”
Stay pos, be cool, remain strong, and leeeaaannn forward. Coffee has already touched my lips. Here’s the music. Cheers
Tuesday’s Theme Music
Mood: it’s a Wordle kind of day
Today is Tuesday, Dec 19, 2023. Just two days till December 21, when winter solstice in the north and summer solstice down below the equator, arrives. Up here we’re counting down to the ‘shortest day of the year’ as so many glibly phrase it. It means we’ll have the shortest period of sun exposure. But solstice is a few days later in Ashlandia; December 21 is an average. Our shortest day lands seven about a week later.
It’s been a really mild winter so far. Today it’s 55 F and rainy. Although indicators say this will continue, weather can change faster than a floof runs to get a treat. But no snow is bad news for the summer, as we depend on our melting mountain snow packs to keep filling our cisterns and reservoirs. So, fingers crossed, snow will come.
Been thinking about inflation. I’m a Paul Krugman fan. Been reading him for decades. But he’s insisting that inflation has gone down but mentions that people like me think it hasn’t because we’re paying more for things than we used to. Paul says the economy is actually good, and President Biden is getting a bad rap over it.
I won’t go into the variations of inflation that exist or how they track it. For me, it comes down to paying much more for car and house insurance than before, higher rates for my water, service fees, home gas and electricity, cat food, and much more for gas for my car. We buy organic and jeez have those prices jumped. Eating out gives me sticker shock almost every time, and beer, wine, and coffee also all cost more, definitely discretionary purchases but, hey, it’s all part of my life style.
Then, housing. Wow. I’ve been considering a move to another part of the nation. Housing is part of the equation to learn where we’ll drop. They’ve always talked about how expensive California housing is, and some parts of Oregon, but looking through New England prices has me reaching for sedatives to calm my nerves. Pennsylvania and Ohio prices are lower than Ashlandia, and more house can be acquired there, but not in New England. There’s also a huge rise in the number of condos and town homes being built. I don’t want to live in either of those because I’ve done it before and I dislike dealing with management over what I can or can’t do with my domicile. There are enough layers or law that I don’t need another layer, especially one that I pay for through things like HOAs. No thanks.
Had to get that off my chest.
Shifting gears to music, I had “Ding Dong the Witch Is Dead” pinging around the morning mental music stream (Trademark unverified) for a while this morning. That’s ‘cuz we saw The Wizard of Oz on Sunday and my wife decided to walk around the house singing about the witch’s death this morning. With less than an eyeblink, The Neurons had it playing over and over and over in my head. I think that kind of thing can drive one insane.
But then I began reading the news and something, something, once again, said or done in the name of god and Jesus to justify being cruel or empty headed was read. I don’t know if it was about the hypocritical Zieglers in Florida, or Trump and the Evanges, or Ohio’s Attorney General, or the Pope, or the AG of Texas or some crap out of the Moms of Liberty. They all stay in the news with their twisted logic about God, religion, and our nation and laws.
Out of that morass of misinformation and misogyny, The Neurons came up with Joan Osborne’s hit song of 1992, “One of Us”. This is a song about god being a slob like one of us, living a life like average humans, riding the bus, going home.
An enticing, intriguing idea. What if the crazy dude talking to himself in the corner is god? Or that women behind the counter with all the piercings is god? What if all these people that go around, trying and struggling, or at home, baking for a holiday, or drinking alone in a house at night while watching some rerun are god? No magic or power, no all-knowing, no one any more or less special than a person walking by you? Strong medicine for the mind to contemplate.
Stay pos, be strong, lean forward, and press on. Coffee is being consumed by the cup here. Here’s the music. Cheers
Monday’s Theme Music
Mood: unproductive
Monday cometh, cloaked as December 18, 2023. I’m starting to plan some holiday purchases.
Winter painted the morning sky lazy grays and thickly mottled white. Will it rain, even snow, was being mentioned around town everywhere. At 52 F, snow didn’t seem likely but as some of winter’s sky work darkened, rain possibilities seemed to be inching up.
Meanwhile, heavy winds are playing with us. I watched a large fir tree across the street madly swirling, waving its branches like an angry MAGA at a rally. No other trees were moving, so I was thinking, “WTF? Why is that tree moving while no others do anything?” Must be a haunted tree, I decided. Then it went still. I watched for a demon or sumpin’ to emerge. Instead, all the other friggin’ trees started waving at the same time. Like watching a home crowd cheering a touchdown. Then it stopped again. I decided I needed to have coffee before watching more. Coffee helps me make sanity out of the insane, or pretend that I don’t care.
Wind is still going but the sky has disrobed the clouds. Sunshine spreads itself over the pavement and buildings. The temperature is up to 53 F.
In the ‘I don’t care’ side of things, I had to tell myself that I don’t care that GOP darling Ron DeSantis, Lord Destructor of Floriduh, says dumb shit. I almost gagged on the latest dumb shit as he declared that liberals allow abortions after birth, aka ‘post-birth abortions’.
WTF does that mean, the interviewer didn’t ask Ron. Can you tell me where this happens, Ron, the interviewer also didn’t ask. Wouldn’t that be murder, Governor, also wasn’t asked. Talking about it with my wife, she informed me that this is a standard GOP talking point. I looked it up and Politifact confirmed, yes, this is something Republicans regularly mention, and no, there’s not truth to it. Would’ve been nice to have the interviewer pursue the truth while they had DeInsanis in front of them, but no, that sort of journalism is rarely practiced in ‘Merica. Don’t want any snowflakes meltin’ on TV, no sir.
No wonder the United States is going to shit when GOP ‘leaders’ say such ignorant and foul ideas and don’t get challenged by the media. No wonder so many voters are ignorant and blind. The media deserves a huge fucking chunk of blame.
Musically, my wife mentioned a song to me the other day, to wit, Miley Cyrus singing her version of “Santa Baby” with some feminist lyrics about not needing Santa to bring her things. The Neurons took it up in the morning mental music stream (Trademark given away), and now I can’t get it out of my head, so here it is for your listening and viewing entertainment. Ho, ho, ho.
Stay pos, be strong, lean forward into the wind, and press on with pride. Coffee has been poured into me and I’m now firing on six out of eight cylinders. Hopefully, more hot caffeine juice will push the other two cylinders to start firing, and then all eight of them will get into rhythm, right? Yes, hopefully.
Oh, look, the sun is gone, the clouds have returned, and it’s raining. Here’s the video. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 