Friday’s Wandering Thoughts
So, it’s a mini-rant on a subject tapped before. I don’t understand some drivers.
Followed a guy along city streets today. I don’t know if it’s germane but the Santa Cruz truck which he drove sported Oklahoma plates. Rental, student, visitor, new arrival who hasn’t registered their vehicle yet? Couldn’t say.
In the 35 MPH zone, they slipped along at 30-31. Okay, they’re cautious, I thought, Maybe looking for something.
The speed limit plummeted to 25 MPH. They cruised through, pulling away from me.
And that dichotomy is what manufactures my ire: why do they go below the speed limit in one area and above the speed limit in another. That’s so contradictory to me. It’s like, and I don’t know if this is what they think, “I’m just going to establish my own speed limit and adhere to it no matter what the local signs say.” Or maybe it’s something they picked up from their parents. Perhaps it’s an Oklahoma habit.
As I said, I don’t understand some drivers.
Friday’s Theme Music
Mood: Fridastic
The air has cleared for us again. Looking at the models of wind currents, the swirling brings us some smoke from the north, like the Diamond Lake complex. Then the wind shifts and the smoke travels up along the mountain valleys from California’s monstrous Parks fire by Chico. A new wind change, and we have a reprieve for a while, like today, well, like now. Because those shifts can come with the suddenless of a cat snapping its paw out.
It will get hot today. Although it’s just 73 F now, we expect the digits to stop climbing at 99 F. Yesterday was supposed to see 104 F but I’m not certain we got that high at my house. That’s because we did a shopping run down the highway in Medford.
Breakfast bore the fruits of that shopping. A bagel was consumed alongside a fresh juicy, sweet peach, wonderfully plump, ripe cherries, and fat, flavorful blueberries.
It’s First Friday in Ashlandia. The art galleries will be flinging their doors open. Like coffee shops, book stores, and bakeries, we don’t have as many art galleries as we used to. The number of places that fell into the categories of that quartet — coffee shops, book stores, bakeries, and art galleries — was a big pull to Ashlandia for us. As those places fell away, replaced by fancy restaurants and ‘vintage’ clothing stores, and odd things like lavendar shops, the town lost its shine in our eyes. This is life, right?
Manwhile, friends have a project up, 1000museums at one of the art galleries today, so we’ll be pointing our feet to it and then progressing left right left right (cue Homer Simpson and Randy Newman) until we’re there.
Oh and we’re going blackberry picking at a friend’s place tomorrow morning.
As it’s Friday, Friday music is in my head. That’s how The Neurons work. There’s a large collection of songs about Friday. Like “Friday On My Mind”, “Black Friday”, “I Gotta Feeling”, “Friday I’m in Love”, and several songs just called “Friday”. The Neurons planted Blink 182 and “What’s My Name Again” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark next week) though, so that’s the music for the day.
Hope your Friday goes well. Stay pos, be strong, leeean forward, and Vote Blue this year. Coffee and I have reached an agreement and it’s being sipped. Here’s the music. Quite elemental. Cheers
A Wysocki Completed
Another jigsaw puzzle was completed last night. I worked this one alone. Started last Saturday night, I finished Thursday evening. It was fun and easy. I enjoy his stylized simplicity, how he minimally incorporates shadows and textures as lines. It’s such a contrast to my style was I was painting and drawing. Somewhat like my fiction writing, I always focus on the interplay of shadows and uncertainty. It reflects my personal philosophy that most life is part of a large band of gray confusion.
Apologies that my photo isn’t sharper and clearer. Those are pumpkins on a wagon above the hat store on the right, and white chickens in the road.
Many more Wysockis were available at the library of things. I’m passing this one on to a friend because I think he’ll enjoy it, and picking up another.
Thursday’s Wandering Thoughts
I ordered a new knob for my gas range. It’s the third one I’ve had to buy for the GE Profile range. The range is about six years old. Quality, right? Headshake.
Anyway, I’m tracking the knob. They said it shipped. I looked up the details.
After being picked up by the carrier, it arrived at the carrier facility, and then arrived at a carrier facility, and then arrived at a carrier facility. All the carrier facilities are in Arkansas.
It’s like, such strange progress. But then, another part for something else last week left California, south of us, and arrived at Eugene, north of us. Then it went further north to Portland. The day after that, it came back down south to Medford, basically northwest of us, before being delivered.
I suspect the folks behind these shipping processes are the same people who are always shouting, “Do more with less!”
The Wife’s Colors Dream
First, I had this dream about sharing my apple pie with a young woman. As she was eating my crust, my wife came along. I went off to talk to her.
My wife and I ended up in what seemed to be a living room. Other family members were vaguely int the area. But my wife came to me and said, “I want you to look at my colors and tell me what you see.”
And I was all, “Huuuhhh?”
Other than being Caucasian as my wife, this dream wife didn’t look at all like RL wife, even though she’d started out as RL wife. Her hair was darker, heavier, and longer, and she had this pale, long, face with bright red lippy.
Second, she was dressed like a goth.
Third, she was holding up some kind of panel in front of her.
I thought the panel was a mirror at first. Then I saw that it reflected with nothing but swirled with images that reminded me of melting steel. I was trying to answer my wife’s request to tell you what colors I was seeing and describe her clothes, skin, and hair. She unleashed a heavy exasperated sigh at me and said, “Not those colors.”
Then I saw the mirror thingy was changing. Yellows and oranges were emerging, along with lesser spots of apple green and pine green. There was also a stretched out blotch of purple that was so dark, it was almost black.
I described these things to her, and then, somehow, I knew the colors had to do with her health, and told her, “I think you can change these colors. Just think of the color that you want to be, and that’ll happen.”
She was doubtful but almost immediately, a soothing fair blue swept across the mirror.
Dream end.
Weird Ol’ Facebook
As a boomer, I still surf and share to FB. Mostly to keep up with ex-military friends and co-workers, and track my family on the other side of the country. I share things I write, too.
But I mostly, I ‘like’ things on Facebooks, things being ‘posts’, shares, videos, and photos. I share some of these things which I ‘like’. You might be surprised that I support animal charities and causes, especially cats. Cats and I have been together since I was a young toddler.
One of the FB groups I follow is VOKRA, the Vancouver Orphan Kitten Rescue Association. They posted, with photos, the tale of Jinx. They’re trying to get Jinx (or maybe it was Binx) adopted. I ‘liked’ the post about the sweet tabby kitten. It only had eleven shares, so I clicked share, to help spread the story and get Jinx or Binx adopted. That’s what social media is about, isn’t it?
Boom. Facebook told me they’d removed it. It was offensive and contrary to community standards. They even accused me of (gasp!) posting something just to get ‘likes’.
Posting things to get ‘likes’. WTF is the world coming to?
My wife and discussed this with WTF amazement. What does FB think it is if not a vehicle for ‘likes’? More critically, how the actual fuck did this post about a kitten available for adoption violate FB community standards?
I hate to reveal this to Facebook, but if cats and kittens and adoptions are against FB community standards, there are huge swaths of violations going on right now. They’d probably be scandalized to learn how many posts are about cats and kittens. In fact, if FB goes after posts about kittens and cats, they will seriously deplete their membership, posts, and shares. They might as well pull the plug on telling each other ‘happy birthday’ while they’re at it.
Truthtfully, I suspect that some poor Facebook AI bot is just having a bad day and removed a post that shouldn’t have been removed. Maybe their companion AI bot left them or they caught their partner AI bot in a compromising configuration with another bot doing forbidden codes.
I don’t know. I’m just speculating. Hope someone takes that poor AI bot aside and communicates with them over a cup of coffee.
Coffee always helps.
And yes, I will post this to Facebook to get likes. Ironic, isn’t it?
Thursday’s Theme Music
Mood: Opticoffeetized
It’s warm in the house. Windows were closed all night against smoke’s rising presence in our valley. I’m up early to see if the air has improved enough that windows and doors can be opened.
I clean the grit from my eyes. When the air quality gets bad, eye grittiness increases. Then, I tilt my head back. Saline nasal spray is applied to my nostrils. I blow the gunk out. Better.
The view outside is bad. Can’t see the mountains for the smoke. Higher elevations have worse smoke and terrible air quality. Down here, closer to the valley floor, the air is a health risk with the quality index hovering in the 150-160 range. The windows are cautiously opened. It’s already 70 outside but it’s 78 F in the house.
Today is Thursday, August 1, 2024. Our high temp will be 104’s neighborhood. 40 degrees C.
There are 96 days left until the 2024 elections. Turmoil has seized the GOP. Trump feels his advantages falling, so he’s twisting, attempting to change positions that are more amenable to voters. His twisting is disconcerting his party and straining loyalties.
Meanwhile, the Democrats are working more solidly together. The DNC is coming up and they’re moving smoothing toward it as glowing endorsemnts from prominent Democrats are given to Kamala Harris. I’m certan that they’re going to emerge with a solid and progressive platform, unlike the GOP, which is trying to distant itself from the Project 2025 playbook while simultaneously embracing it.
I read a NYTimes piece by former Governor Christopher Sununnu (R-NH) about what the GOP needs to do. Focus on policies and don’t depend on just attacking. Well, that’s basic, simplistic advice that Don Old Trump can’t follow. Attacking is what he does, especially when pressure on him increases. It’s his mojo, in is mind. Witness his attacks and hostility during his trial last May. More recently, look how angry and belligrent he became at the NABJ meeting, where he ended up questioning Kamala Harris’s race. Insane.
Today has The Neurons playing “Broken Wings” by Mr. Mister from 1985 filling the morning mental music stream (Trademark roasted). I think the song came from triple points of view in my morning cogitations. One was about me and some DIY I’m doing, along with novel writing. I was thinking about things I need to fix. Then the thinking shifted into politics and the things which needed fixed. That was all just an invitation for The Neurons to bring up the “Broken Wings” line, “We can take what is wrong and make it right.” The rest just followed.
Smoke is flavoring the breeze. My nostils are stinging and dribbling. A headache has taken up residence and I cough and sneeze. Time to close the windows.
Stay positive, lean forward, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee and I are doing the dance. Here’s the music. Cheers
Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts
The area’s electric power went down. It was a valley-wide outage affecting all of our little city, along with several other small cities. Turned out to be a major transmission line failure. A crew went out and found and fixed it.
Electricity ceased about 11:24 AM. I was at my writing haunt, which is a locally known coffee shop. It was suddenly so quiet, and a little darker. “The power is out,” a barista exclaimed.
Only three customers were in the shop. One barista looked over at me and asked, “What did you do, Michael?”
I was innocent, of course. We were all told to leave. Turned out it wasn’t just that little corner of existence.
I drove home. All the traffic lights were out. People were handling it with courtesy and awareness in my part of town, but others later said they witnessed some flagrant driver idiocy. Takes all kinds, we agreed.
It’s weird how something like this can affect the day. Like, okay, power is out. I drove home. Clicked on the garage door opener to verify it didn’t work and parked in the driveway. Went in with a key to the side door. I was thinking what will I do with this time? Well, I can still write on the computer. I just won’t be on the net. Battery will last a while. Or I can dust furniture or cut the lawn.
A smoke detector was announcing that its battery was on low. So I located it, got out the small metal step ladder and took care of that. I remember my wife not wanting me to purchase those little steps. “Just use a chair,” she urged. But I figured we were adults and should have the proper tool for the job, so I paid the $40 for the stairs.
My wife then arrived home. She didn’t have any house keys, and I saw her trying to ring the doorbell. After I let her in, we wondered, what does work for us? Can we get texts and make phone calls? She had one text from the county telling about the outage. I called her. Her phone rang but we couldn’t connect.
So we sat and talked. Not like we don’t sit and talk every day but something new is always coming up. Then I get a text from my sister saying, “I see trump just screwed up again.”
I texted back, “what happened? We don’t have power.” But my text wouldn’t go. How could I receive a text but not send one?
Fifteen minutes later, the power was back on. It too much longer than the outage lasted to return to the rhythm of the day.
Michael Seidel, writer 