Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts
My wife is lamenting that Ashlandia has become a dancing desert. There are no venues that we know to go dancing. When we want to dance, we need to head out of town to wineries, breweries, or up into a resort called Lake of the Woods. That last is where we usually wind up.
Which pushed me to think, do young people still dance? I went onto TikTok for the answer. Instead, they have videos the young have made of their parents showing their dance moves — or videos made by boomers showing their moves.
Tuesday’s Theme Music
Mood: hyperhappy (could be due to coffee)
It was the best of rains. Falling lightly and fitfully, it wet the land and added a little rise to the streams but caused no issues. That’s the best of rains.
Today is Tuesday, June 18, 2024. Spring continues holding on. Low temps last night dipped into the bottom forties. Now it’s fifty. Sunshine and blue skies reign. A high of 80 F is expected. The wind is whispering, “It’ll be 90 tomorrow.”
My wife was over at the coffee pot, leaning over and whispering to it as the coffee dribble out. Looked like she might’ve been pleading with it. I don’t know. What goes on between a person and their coffee stays between them and their coffee.
Spoke with Dad’s wife last night. We discussed his situation and DNR and Advanced Directives. He has a kidney issue and congestive heart failure. Dialysis is on the table for him but can he survive the procedure is the question. We shall see.
I spoke with him on the phone this morning after putting it off because his wife said he didn’t want to talk. He’s as spirited and congenial as ever. Sounds just as he did twenty year ago.
For fun, I watched Jon Stewart addressing GOP fears about crime. In a coink-dink, I’d checked out FoxNews.com with my morning reading yesterday. I’d already checked out a bunch of ‘liberal’ sites like the NYTimes, WaPo, the HoustonChronicle and others, so I wanted to see what was being presented in the fair and balanced realm called FoxNews.
Well, holy macaroni, that is one dark space. Everything is crashing, burning, flooding, or dying in their world. Actually, that’s pretty much happening in our existence, too, but we don’t see everything and paint it as black as possible and hyper-sensationalized it. Mind boggling.
Anyway, Stewart’s take on the GOP’s take on crime was humorous. Despite what the FBI says about crime being down, the right ‘feels’ like it’s unsafe. As Stewart points out, could it be because rightwing news outlets, pundits, and politicians keep screaming about how dangerous the cities are, despite the statistics? But the most irritating point that Stewarts latches onto, just as most Democrats do, is that the Republicans are screaming about the gun violence even though their inaction against gun controls is what allows guns to flood our cities. Like teasing a cougar and then crying because it mauled you.
For music, The Neurons rolled “Clementine”, also known by some as “Oh My Darling Clementine”, into the morning mental music stream (Trademark edgy). Wikipedia credits the song with being around in 1884, well before my birth. But I’ve heard it in movies and cartoons, and even sang it myself, so I am familiar with it. I challenged The Neurons’ thinking on this song choice. but they stayed mute as a baby’s bottom. Sometime later, they changed the song to “Gimme Some Lovin'” by the Spencer Davis Group from 1966, though again, without revealing why that song was chosen. But I’ll stay with it ‘cuz I like its energy and that organ and the whole song’s upbeat vibe.
Off to the grower’s market. Happens every Tuesday from May to September in Ashlandia, where the produce is fresh and organic. Be strong, stay positive, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Here’s the music. Oh my darlin’, cheers
Monday’s Wandering Thoughts
A sense of community often ends at the parking lot. Signs warn who may share their parking lot. Even on weekends and holidays when businesses and institutions are closed, they warn, “Parking Reserved for Customers”, or the like, threatening scofflaws with towing and fines.
Otherwise, it’s thanks for visiting and enjoy your day.
Bountflooeous
Bountflooeous (floofinition) – Giving freely to animals or disposed to give to animals.
In Use: “Brenden established himself as a bountflooeous individual before he was five years old, feeding any dog, cat, squirrel, or bird who came along.”
In Use: “Martin was bountflooeous, driving around his town every day to provide food and water to stray cats and dogs, earning their trust, getting them medical help, and finding them homes. Locals nicknamed him The Animal Guy.”
Monday’s Theme Music
Mood: weatherflective
It’s Monday, June 17, 2024. Ashlandia is drying out from yesterday’s late afternoon rain and more precipitation decorating the night. Branches are tangoing with the wind and a blue sky as dazzling as a diamond suggests, we have a nice day lined up for you, folks. It’s 50 degrees F out with humidity floating in the eighties and a chance for the thermometer to breach the upper sixties. Spring rules again, although all is fully bloomed, waiting for our entrance. I’m a little sneezy and itchy-eyed with allergies.
The neighborhood is so quiet, you can hear a cat meow. A flying crow chastises us as he beats wings to somewhere else. Cars roll up with stoic indifference, delivering a gentle rumble from engine and tires.
No updates on Dad. They were to call when opportunity for us to chat came. So, sigh, I wait.
Meanwhile, back in Pennsylvania, Mom is stirring up issues by claiming her beau made up an invitation that included Mom to go to a party with his family. She went to the party but did not enjoy herself because, she said, they were surprised to see her. She doesn’t think she was invited; my sister suggested, “Mom, you told them you weren’t coming. Of course they’re surprised when you showed up.”
But no, the invitation didn’t include her; it was manufactured. We don’t understand why he’d do that; discussing it logically with her is a task for someone with stronger shoulders. She doesn’t hear us, and doesn’t want to hear us. I remember taking conversations with her about this same matter fifteen years ago. It’s coloring our memories of her, making her bitter, angry, and hostile in our memories. That’s the problem with aging and living longer: we begin with a vision of who we want to be, and push efforts that way, and then our mind and body twist, erasing our vision.
Dinner with friends last night was entertaining. A jigsaw puzzle was begun. Featuring odd-shaped pieces, it’s not as fun as those with uniform shapes, even though it was an interesting scene from a museum with patrons.
This morning, we deliver for Food & Friends, and then I’m going to slip on my customary writing routine, and frequent the coffee shop. Ankle is wrapped. Swelling remains a matter to address but I don’t know how much is ankle injury and how much is my recurring edema. Ice, elevate, rest, but it’s tedious and mood-altering.
Songs came together today from thoughts of summer. Specifically, the heat wave riding others in the U.S. Out of that train, The Neurons pulled in “Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth with Money in My Hand” from 1996 by Primitive Radio Gods. Starting with that B.B. King sample, it plays and repeats in the morning mental music stream (Trademark chillin’). See, it has a line in there, “Does summer come for everyone?” I think the ground for this song and its lazy, reflective tone by a song on another blog the other day, “Tom’s Diner” by Suzanna Vega. They have similiar feels to me.
Coffee is making the trip between the lips. Be positive, stay strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Let’s go get ’em, tiger. Here’s the music. Cheers
Happy Anniversary!
June 16th, as Heather Cox Richardson reminds us, is the anniversary of the Watergate break-in of 1972. She provides a succinct recap of that time in history. President Nixon was eventually impeached for obstruction of justice, abuse of power, and contempt of Congress, and and then resigned before he could be tried, blaming the press on the way out. Then she brings it home to May 30, 2024, when Former President Donald Trump was found guilty on 34 criminal counts by a jury of his peers, confirming that no one is above the law.
Ms Richardson is a strong writer and that recap comes at a needed time. While the Supreme Court wrestles with the question of Presidential immunity and Trump’s supporters insist that his prosecution was politically motivated, this history lesson reminds us that we’ve wrestled this dragon before.
Narcofloofsey
Narcofloofsey (floofinition) – Condition that is chararcterized by an urge to sleep or nap when in an animal’s presence, especially when they’re sleeping on a sofa, bed, or chair.
In Use: “Having a rough day, Gina saw her puppy asleep on the sofa. As she sat beside the dog, she felt narcofloofsey take her and curled up beside the furry floof for a nap.”
In Use: “Mark settled down on the sofa to read but his cats joined him and in an instant, narcofloofsey had won the moment, and all three were asleep.”
Michael Seidel, writer 