Author: Michael Seidel

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.

Saturday’s Theme Music*

*Began publishing this as Sunday’s theme music. Because I thought it was Sunday. My internal calendar is untethered with my routines disrupted. My apologies.

Mood: Springflective

Spring has taken over Ashlandia on this day in June’s middle. A flotilla of menacing clouds have surmounted the mountains surrounding the valley, blocking the sun’s effects, and holding our temperature hostage in the low fifties. Saturday, June 15, 2024, will likely only face high temperatures in the upper sixties today, ending our unusually warm streak — for this time of year, of course.

Fire season has begun and there are already several on the maps to be watched to see how they grow, what direction they take, how long until they’re under control, and what happens with the smoke.

Dad went into the hospital yesterday. He’s in his early nineties so a visit there once in a while isn’t a great surprise. I mean, he grew up during the cigarette’s heyday and was a smoker, first of Lucky Strikes, and then shifting to pipes and cigars. He quit smoking thirty to forty years ago but the damage was done. He also spent 20 years in the military and was exposed to carcinogenic stuff during his tours, and survived a tour of Vietnam, too.

His current issues began with an enlarged prostrate which blocked his bladder. One kidney has apparently failed, quite some time ago, according to his wife, though Dad never mentioned this. Nor has he ever mentioned that they wanted to start him on dialysis. But the issue du jour is fluid around his heart. He’s been stented before and has had edema issues but this is a new one. So they’re going to drain away that fluid. The stay is basically observation, they said *cough cough*.

Dad, though, was recalcitrant to go into the hospital. His wife said that after the doctor saw Dad’s test results, Doc called Dad and asked him to go to ER, which Dad did. But when they wanted to admit him for obs, he refused to give his permission. Went on for hours. Dad demanded a second opinion. So a second team came in and evaluated him, and agreed, he should be admitted to the hospital. Dad finally gave his permission at 12:30 AM Friday morning after arriving Thursday afternoon. His wife said she left the hospital bone tired but encountered a huge thunderstorm. Not wanting to drive the highways and Interstates of San Antonio, Texas, in the rain, she found a chair and spent the night sleeping in it.

Gotta call them to get the lowdown on here and now.

If you ever read my blog, you can imagine how The Neurons reacted to news about Dad and his health. All manner of songs, poetry, and essays skated through the mental scene while I reflected about who I think Dad is and how he influenced me. As I’m still trying to figure him at with me at 68 years old, I ended up with “Alive” by Pearl Jam from 1991 in my morning mental music stream (Trademark grandfathered). Of course, figuring out Dad is a moving target. I’m changing in slow ways most days, and so is he. We don’t see one another often — he lives in Texas and I live in Oregon — and we don’t talk often. We try, and we mean to, but we’re the same in that way, sort of strange loners who socialize well but aren’t terribly sentimental. We can hazard the company of others but we’re very satisfied being on our own.

Stay strong, be well, keep positive. Endure, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Got my coffee so we can rock on. Here’s the tune. Cheers

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Friday’s Wandering Thoughts

My laptop’s keyboard has been giving me troubles, by Cat. ‘T’ and ‘G’ needed extensive pressure to make an appearance. The tab was stumbling and uncertain, and one of the control keys was not up to snuff.

So, since I was limited in movement, I sat down and cleaned the keyboard, key by key. The general filthiness found shocked me. It was amazing any keys were working. Now, they all do.

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Kama Flooftra

Kama Flooftra (floofinition) Ancient book composed by animals displaying positions used to scratch, pet cats, and sleep. Many animals study the kama flooftra in pursuit of living better. Origins: First noted in Mesopatamia in 600 BCE.

In Use: “Dixie was forever surprising her people with the positions they found her but they were unaware that she was a fervent fan of the Kama Flooftra, being totally unaware the book even existed!”

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Friday’s Theme Music

Mood: Coffpestuous

Overnight temps dipped us into the forties, so cool air, warm sunshine, and a dusty blue sky opened Friday, June 14, 2024. Happy Flag Day for the U.S. attendees today.

A pattern of frothy flat clouds dot Ashlandia’s blueways. Expect it to be like that all day as sprummer dips back toward springmer. 62 F now in the late morning, today’s high will stall at ’round 74 F. The surrounding hills are whole green shows. Cherries are ripening on the trees, and the peaches are swelling ever larger as they slowly shed their green tinge.

I hear on the news that heatwaves are striking other parts of the nation and that Florida has taken on flooding. Hope all is well with my fellow Americans in those zones and they survive and recover.

Last night, ’bout 12:30, I opened the front door to collect the cats. There, an on the grass at the end of the front porch, was a large, resting doe. Cats weren’t there, so I closed the door and let the doe be. She was gone his morning.

My injured foot swelled up in a big way yesterday, hindering movement and plans, and rendering my toes into small, fat, sausages. Spent the day RICE-ing away. After returning from the show, I elevated my foot and watched the swelling completely dissipate. Little swelling today that I see but I still try not to use it. When I do, it’s with ginger attention.

We attended the OSF Green Show last night with a group of friends and enjoyed The Rogue Suspects doing an Aretha Franklin tribute. Fanastic. Those women can belt it out, and the rest of the band are right up there, note for note and on time. It was a large crowd on blankets and chairs as the temperature dipped below 80 F and the sun slipped through the blue sky to coyly hide behind the mountains. There was a contingent of fans down there on the bricks beside the stage, singing and dancing in ages from two to 80 or 90. Lot of energy on display on stage and in the audience as the Suspects ripped though “I Say A Little Prayer”, “Chain of Fools”, “Pink Cadillac”, “Jumping Jack Flash” and others. Good times, brothers and sisters, good times.

Naturally, I thought one song would hook The Neurons. It did. The blighters brought the duet, “Knew You Were Waiting” with Aretha Franklin and George Michael. The Suspects did cover the song last night as well.

Time to fly. Be strong and stay positive and Vote Blue in 2024. I’ll do the same. Coffee has been consumed. Here’s the music video. Cheers

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: Slowed

Thursday, June 13, 2024, begins with a front’s impact. Chilliness rules the night and fends off the morning sun’s advances, rising through the fifties into the sixties, holding off on the seventies until afternoon. It sounds like I’m talking about decades or periods, but I’m referencing the temperatures in Fahrenheit. Right now, we’ve settled on a comfy 80 F.

While I’m still RICE-ing my right ankle, we plan to see the Green Show on the Oregon Shakespeare Festival bricks tonight. The performing band, Rogue Suspects, is one of our favorite. Through regular attendance of their shows, we’ve become friends with several of them. Can’t wait to enjoy their music tonight. They cover a wide range of rock, blues, pop. Sometimes they’re focus on a specific performer, like Aretha Franklin or The Eagles. Don’t know what we’ll get tonight, but they always give us a solid performance.

The Rogue Suspects 2023

Some good news from the Supremes about the abortion pill, mifepristone, was read this morning. Naturally I thought, man, ain’t that good news. That thought triggered The Neurons into starting the Sam Cooke song, “Ain’t That Good New” from 1964, in the morning mental music stream (Trademark still legal). Had to pause a mo’ to reflect that this recorded performance was sixty years ago.

Be positive and strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Here’s Sam Cooke. Cheers

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Floofness

Floofness (floofinition) – 1. The quality of being the epitomy of whatever species of animal is being represented. Origins: mid-17th century in France.

In Use: “Despite being a young female cat, Philo developed the floofness of a large dog, say a Pyrenean Mountain Dog, boldly confronting and chasing off any animal not part of the official household, unless it was another cat; other cats were welcomed and accepted as long as they behaved.”

2. Used as a title or address for an exalted animal or an animal held in high esteem. Origins: 12th century, France.

In Use: “Bella, the neighbor’s little Corgi, was always referred to as ‘Her Royal Floofness’ and carried herself as worthy of the title.”

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The 95 Dream

My wife I were with others in a tall white office building. The rest of the people were strangers. We were there for testing but kept segregated in different rooms, so I had no idea how many people were present.

The way the testing went is we’d be called into the testing room in groups of six at a time. The test administrator was a tall white woman, brunette, in a lab coat, carrying a clip board, wearing glasses, a scientist stereotype. Several younger people, mostly men in their early twenties, assisted her.

Of the actual testing, I know nothing. In the dream, I’d see the door, enter, and then return. That’s it.

While milling around after the fourth test, rumors began spreading about grades. Someone, they said, scored 95. 95 was unheard of. The usual recorded high was in the upper eighties, and several were in that zone. Another person then came to me as I circulated, waiting for the next round, and said, “You’re the one who scored a 95.”

I dismissed that as rumor, pleased, but also sure that it wasn’t me with that score. I didn’t want to get my hopes up only to be let down.

Then the final two test blocks were finished and testing was completed and the head verified I’d scored a 95 and lauded me for the achievement. finishing by presenting me with a trophy.

Well, cool, I liked that but disliked all the attention. With the whole thing over, the staff began cleaning up. I rushed to use the restroom before leaving but one of the male assistants, apparently realizing what I wanted to do, rushed ahead and blocked restrooms so they couldn’t be moved. I thought was a dick move and confronted him. He and I argued. I ended by shaking my head and saying, “Your organization rewards me because of what I achieved, and then you go and pull this shit. Just shows how little that trophy and recognition really means.”

Dream end

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