Science fiction, fantasy, and mystery writer. Singer (sorry, no shows) & nudist (in my home). Beer, cat, cheese, coffee, pie and wine friend. Left IBM and Silicon Valley for the southern Oregon life but I miss the ocean. We're too far inland. Gotta move.
I am not a seer, though I often portray one online. But I have some thoughts coalescing around some inputs.
I think the start of PINO Trump in 2025 will be heralded by a huge spike in COVID-19. Deaths won’t be as numerous as before but it will be disruptive. It will affect the economy.
Sidebar: PINO Trump sounds like a bad wine, doesn’t it?
Anyway, I suspect the spike is already underway but will become bigly pronounced next year. First I learned that my sister, a staunch Trumper, has just finished her third dance with COVID. Then I found that two other local couples, non-Trumpers, were down with COVID. Next, I discovered that a local business had to close its doors due to a COVID outbreak.
Yes, this is all anecdotal. Small sample. But combine that with the virulent anti-vax/’COVID hoax’ manifested in the MAGA wing, a position now being empowered in the PINO’s cabinet choices, and the setup for disaster is complete.
Today is Thursday, December 26, 2024. Five more days to the year. A year stamped with historic and personal significance. Wonder how 2025 will compare at this time next year.
Gray. Rainy. Chilly. Call it 44 F. Light rain. This is winter in Ashlandia. Snow hugs things above three or four thousand feet, looks like at a glance. Down here, we’re stuck in the gray. Sunshine muted through gray clouds from mountain to mountain to mountain. Gray clouds as far as I can see, looking down into the valley. And rain.
Yes, I’m complaining.
The cats are not, however. After a night of howling wind and incessant rain, Papi dragged in his wet Butter Butt and found a warm space to sleep off the day. Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) had already set the example, staying in, finding a comfy zone, nodding into slumber.
Late post as I spent the morning writing. One of those days when the muses arrived early. The house was quiet and the coffee was hot, so. Seated myself at the laptop and added 2,500 words. Excited by the twist added. See if it stands revision, editing, and further thinking.
Today’s music selection was made by The Neurons after a friend’s comment yesterday. A decade older than moi, she’s not known for her colorful language. But there she was making a risque, off-color comment at the Christmas bash. As we reacted and laughed, she turned as red as Santa’s outfit. Net result: The Neurons have “Dirty Mind” by the brilliant Prince playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark filthy).
Well, deep breath. Dredge up some positive energy. Here we go again. Let’s start with the music. Cheers
I read the attached Saturday Evening Post story this morning. One of my blogging friends linked to it. I think it was either Scottie’s Playground or Jill Dennison’s blog. Boh are awesome at spreading good news and interesting developments. I have a habit of reading a basic post, and then, if it’s linked to another story, opening the other story. Sometimes I read it right away, but it’s not unusual for me to pin it to read later, if my coffeemeter shows my energy is sinking.
The story is about a company called Ridwell. A father and son started it. They make the connection that’s missing in many communities about what to do about zombie trash. You may have some of it in your home. Plastics and batteries and other items that your local recycling center doesn’t take which you can’t throw away because of its environmental impact. Things which pile up becaus no one locally recycles it and you can’t do anything with it yourself. I know from my experiences and friends that we have this issue in Ashlandia.
The son’s concerns and the father’s innovation, community spirit, and inventiveness is what’s really inspiring. I’m contacting our city, Ridwell, and our recycling/trash company, Recology, to see if there’s someway for us to get connected with Ridwell as part of this chain.
Ridwell is set up for that. I’ve joined with 294 others in my local region of southern Oregon to find a way to make this happen.
Strangest thing happened today. My big ol’ black and white cat, Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah), came up to me and said, “Me-ow.”
He surprised me. Tucker normally says, “Mrrew.” Or, “Rrow.” “Mrph.” “Mruph.” Things like that. Meow? Never. It was like hearing a dog say, “Hello.” Or a deer offering, “Good afternoon.”
Me-ow. It was so clear. So distinct. You could have knocked me over with a paw.
I’m dreaming of a gray Christmas. Where raindrops glisten, and fog and mist close us in, and the temperatures are neither too warm nor too-oo cold.
And I got my wish! Yes, it’s a dreary day outside my windows. 43 F now, up from 36 F before. Cloudy as cloudy can be. Late posting this because I scoffed off to have breakfast brunch with friends. Yes, I was invited and didn’t crash it. Wonderful time with them, culminating in working on a five hundred piece Christmas-ornament themed jigsaw puzzle. Which didn’t get finished but was about 25 % when we walked after about 90 minutes of effort. Besides that, we compared stories of how we met our sig others, what holiday traditions were observed, and related tales of holiday craziness. Fun time all around.
We got home — I’d worn a dark gray sweater and charcoal pants to honor the gray holiday — ditched our clothes and served up leftovers.
You can guess that we’re not over-the-top Christmas celebrants. We’re not even up to our belly buttons in Christmas. Friends gifted us interesting X-mas theme stuff. Like an Amaryllis. And a pine tree centerpiece decorated in red ornaments and ribbons. Shortbread cookies dolled up with minced dill. Other kinds of cookies and baked goods. But that’s it. We put a couple items up and sent off a few cards and put a few gifts online and the end.
Meanwhile, my little sister sent me food photos of her Christmas setup. She had her nephews, children, grandchildren, sister, and Mom, along with her family. About fifteen people Ham. Mashed potatoes and cheesy hash brown potatoes, corn, green bean casserole, meatballs and stuffed shells, tossed salad, Stouffer’s mac & cheese for the kids. Apple pie, banana cream pie, pumpkin pie. Cookies. Cheesy pineapple casserole. Rolls from Oakmont Bakery along with carrot cake.
Today’s song is brought to you be Der Neurons. They’re always up for a song. In this case, someone said something about being human at brunch. The Ns took that as an brainvite to start “Human” by the Human League in the morning mental music stream (Trademark roasting). Not at all a Christmas song, this is a pop offering of a guy trying to explain away his cheating to his sig other by when they’re away by explaining, “Hey, I’m only human. Flesh and blood. A man.”
Hope your holidays met your needs. Time to start counting down to the new year yet? Here’s the music. Cheers
December 24, 2024 has claimed Twosda in Ashlandia, where the beer is local and cold. Rain fell in clunk drops all night, yielding to an un-Christmasy morning fog. Rain and sunshine have since warred around 43 degrees. Low will be 36 F and the high will be 46 F, cutting a narrow band through the day.
While Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) has shrugged off the weather and remains inside, Butter Butt (previously known as Papi the ginger blade, but also once known as Meep) continues his rigorous testing to verify that better weather is not available through a different door. Several times when he was left in through the front door, he immediately galloped to the back door for egress, as if time was now some critical aspect of his testing.
Beer with friends was done last night as we slid our weekly greet and drink up from Wednesday to Monday due to some holiday happening on Wednesday. Small gathering of the faithful but family members augmented our numbers. A fun time was experienced, as it always is. We raised our glasses in salute of new possible states, Canada, Greenland, and Panama, the latest things PINO-elect Trump has floated. TBS, except for Canada, he hasn’t actually proposed these places be states. As always, he vaguely intones what might happen, suggesting anything is possible. Anything except sanity, sure. Someone suggested Trump has generated more weirdness-based statements because other world events drew the news media’s attention; he thus issued ideas to get the spotlight back on hisself.
I took it on myself to walk the .75 miles down to the watering hole and back. I’ve done the walk many times and know that it used to take me fourteen minutes. Going wasn’t too far of a challenge, as it’s a slight downhill slope all the way, and it was early-ish, and the weather was almost balmy. Returning up the hill, buffeting by wind, spit on by rain, a few pints sloshing around inside me, consumed twenty-two minutes. By the end, my foot was a flaming riot of irritation. Some tender care and soothing words made it right in a while.
In accordance with the rules and customs, I would now air my grievances, as it’s part of that holiday, Festivus. But I’ve pretty much aired my grievances all year, not holding back to wait for one day to spout off. With that out of the way, I turn attention to the music. Staying with the whole X-mas idea, The Noel Neurons brought Eric Clapton singing and playing “Cryin’ Christmas Tears” to the morning mental music stream (Trademark wrapped). Hope you enjoy it.
Hope your days are comfy and joyous no matter what holiday you celebrate, or if you celebrate none at all. Here’s the music. Back to my regularly scheduled coffee and writnig. Cheers
Floofdulum(floofinition) – An animal which swings back and forth between two or more activities, locations, or activities. Origins: From Flooftin, circa 1659.
In Use: “Many pet floofs become floofdulums as they age, rotating between eating and sleeping, eating and sleeping.”
In Use: “Crystal was a staunch floofdulum, sleeping in bed with her people at night, moving to the sunny living room in the morning, and then joining her people on the sofa in the evening.”
In Use: “Wanting to eat everything available, Sir Bear became a floofdulum, dashing between food bowls in search of every last bite.”
PINO*-elect Trump is calling for buying Greenland. What a goofball. Certainly fun to read about him for the crazy factor. It’s like, what will that crazy monkey say next?
Sidebar: I think that Buying Greenland and Other Insanity would be an excellent title for Trump’s biography. Feel free to use it.
Back to PINO-elect Trump’s idea. My first question is, has Denmark said that Greenland is for sale? Sure that’s not important to Trump. He likes taking things. Remember, he’s the one who suggest that all he has to do to get a woman is “grab her by the pussy.”
Trump: “Yeah, that’s her, with the gold. I’ve got to use some Tic Tacs, just in case I start kissing her. You know I’m automatically attracted to beautiful — I just start kissing them. It’s like a magnet. I just kiss. I don’t even wait. And when you’re a star, they let you do it. You can do anything.”
Unidentified man: “Whatever you want.”
Trump: “Grab them by the pussy. You can do anything.”
I’m guessing that Trump will have to raise the money for buying Greenland in some extraneous ways. Maybe sell some of his bought billionaires on eBay. Putin would probably buy them. Or Trump will do a car wash or bake sale. Can you see a WH car wash? Ten thousand dollars a car. He’ll have the Secret Service do the washing. A bake sale spun right could bring in some cash. First, Trump buys or steals (or calls for them to be donated!) a bunch of baked goods. Then Trump can take a bite of each baked good and sell it for a grand per. “Real Food Certified to have been bitten by PINO Donald J. Trump.” Film him biting each cookie and signing a certificate of biting it. Post it to X. He could sell them for $299 a bite.
I’m sure that whatever he does to raise money to buy Greenland, it’ll be the “greatest and most beautiful thing ever”. Right?
Oh, wait, I know. He can collect and bottle his piss and sell it to raise the money. That’d probably bring in a lot of money. Supporters are sure to buy his bottled piss. I mean, look at how many keep buying his shit.
