The Writing Moment

It’s hard to stop writing when it’s blistering along but the allocated time has skidded to an end. Difficult to push the pause button while editing and revising the other project when the timing bell rings to announce, move on to the next matter.

Doesn’t help that the muses are especially active, like they’ve been gorging on chocolate cake and chugging coffee. They just don’t want to stop and it pains me to tell them that I am.

I need a longer day or the means to carve time out of everything else going on. How much sleep is really needed anyway?

This Is Life

An email was forwarded to us by friends who live about two miles away. We’re toward Ashlandia’s southern perimeter, and they’re above the library downtown. It’s a small town.

Good morning HOA – I wanted to reach out and let you all know that the past 2 nights we have had a cougar in the neighborhood. Last night, it unfortunately killed our older cat. We also found a dead raccoon in our yard so I would urge you all to keep any pets inside at night if possible. The cougar seems to be especially active around dusk – It was hunting earlier in the evening yesterday just after 6pm and we had let our cat out without thinking it would be active so early.

It looks to be injured and we have seen it limping. It did not run away when we tried to shoo it away so be aware that if you are near it, it may not run away and may be more aggressive because it is injured and can’t run away easily.

We’re rural, not deeply populated or industrialized. Cougars and bears live in the area along with foxes and coyotes, raccoons, deer, etc. Of course, the cougars and bears are rarer that most of the others, wilder, and carnivores, so they get a sketch more attention than other critters. That it has killed someone’s pet makes me wince for the animal and its owner. Grudgingly I accept, this is part of life, and then my thoughts churn with worry about my own little housefloofs and how much they enjoy going outside.

We may need to revisit that policy.

Monday’s Theme Music

Mood: springy

Season’s greetings, everyone, no matter what season envelopes your existence this date. This day and date are Monday, Feb. 12, 2024. Spring has reasserted its stance here in Ashlandia, where the theater is above average. 51 F under a cloudy sky where the sun keeps breaking through, our high is supposed to be just one more degree over the current temp.

It’s another late start for posting for me. I assisted my wife’s Food & Friends deliveries. I’m her driver. That started at 10 AM. We were finished circulating around Ashlandia’s southern streets and home by II:30, having taken a hot meal to fourteen homes, part of a small army out there doing this almost every day.

In good news — for us in Ashlandia — our snowpack significantly scored with the last storms. It now stands at over 70% of normal, thanks to the atmospheric rivers that dumped on California and much of the PNW. Sad for CA and their losses. Brutal to read of the flooding, mudslides, destruction, and death, or see videos of it. Meanwhile, the northeastern US has another snowstorm descending on them. Fingers crossed that it doesn’t do too much to the area and that no one dies.

In stories about other worries and losses, did you see Donald Trump Jr’s post? I had to remind myself that this came from a supposedly educated and intelligent adult human. The crass humor demonstrates an adolescent’s maturity and a first-grader’s intelligence. That this comes from the son of the mighty GOP’s leader, that it involves a family member and not a candidate, that it involves a former first lady, that it’s racist and misogynistic, and that GOP leadership said nothing about it, speaks volumes about that side of the political spectrum. The Principles of the GOP: RIP.

By the way, the KC Chiefs beat the SF 49ers in the Super Bowl yesterday. Kelce Travis and Taylor Swift said nothing about voting for President Joe Biden, despite right wing predictions of that happening. Surprise.

Maybe I’ve mentioned this before, and maybe not, but my spouse enjoys reading Reddit threads about the modern dating scene in America. She enjoys, too, reading the stories tell while asking for advice about what to do in their marriages or relationships. In a recent one, a 27-year-old man was pursuing his dream of becoming a professional video game player. I knew such a position exists, but I didn’t know the rest, like they have teams, and coaches. It’s evolved much more since I’ve last paid attention to it. The girlfriend writing in was talking about how he was not supporting them while he accused her of the same.

She doesn’t believe he’s good enough to be a pro, and the evidence does stand against him. People commented, pointing out that he is too old at this point because the oldest pro gamer now is 25. However, I dislike telling people to give up their dreams. Hell, I’m pursuing my own of becoming a novelist, despite my age (I’m almost 28). Trying to look at it from both sides, I feel for him and his partner. Showing signs of my own fiction writing addiction, I immediately saw how it could be part of a novel.

I don’t know why, but today had The Neurons post “Missing You” by John Waite into the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). I enjoy the 1984 soft rock tune, having frequently heard it on the radio while buzzing around Okinawa during my final year of living there. Why that song today? Don’t know. I’d been doing cleaning after feeding cats previous to showering and dressing when I realized it had taken over the MMMS. No clues were found for why. Anyway, that’s today’s theme music.

Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and vote when you can. Now fortified with coffee, I’ll do the same. Here’s the music. Cheers

Sunday’s Wandering Thoughts

My good ol’ Fitbit, which isn’t that old, actually — I’ll need to look that up — stopped working again.

First sign: at 9:15 this morning, it declared that I’d walked over 18,000 steps.

Had I been sleepwalking, I wondered? Chasing the cats, or saving them from a bear, cougar, or other beasts? Not that I recalled, and I believeI would have remembered that. So, must be something else.

Okay. I added resetting the Fitbit to my list of things to do but it was still nominally functioning, until, ‘lo, in the coffee shop, I tapped it for the time and got nada.

Well, I muttered in my mind. That sucks.

But what was really irritating was that, just a little later, as I wrapped up my reading day, I tapped my Fitbit to check the time.

Idiot! Habits are really difficult to stop.

Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood: super

Ahoy everyone, it’s Sunday, February 11, 2024. Here are today’s top headlines.

Ah, never mind that for now. We’ll do that later. In weather, sprinter had dashed back into the Ashlandia, with strong spring highlights overtaken weak winter elements. 52 F, with classic strong sunshine lording over bright blue, it’s a good day to do many things. Today’s high will be 58 F.

House painting continues with no issues at all. My wife and I did a walk around to see the progress yesterday, and we’re pleased. The housefloofs have adjusted the situation. Tucker went for an outside visit this morning, conducting a recce of the painters’ supplies. Not at all concerned by appearances, he then returned to the door and was granted re-entry. Papi, having seen it all now, is little bothered, dashing in and out several times with barely more than a head bob toward the painting gear, confirming, yes, that stuff is all still there. Hustling in before they returned, both cats are now retired in the house in sunny places filtered by the flimsy plastic over the windows.

As it’s super Sunday in the U.S., the day when the two NFL conference champions play a final game to decide who is number 1 and end the season, I thought I’d blink back at 1993. T’was the year the marching bands and drill teams were gently shuffled aside, and the Super Bowl pop era. Game number XXVII was being held at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena, California. The Buffalo Bills, representing the AFC, faced the NFC Champions Dallas Cowboys. The Bills were there for the third straight year. They came again the next year to make it four in a row, setting a record as the first time to appear in four straight Super Bowls. Sadly, they remain winless in that realm.

For that first pop Super Bowl, they hired a pop icon, Michael Jackson. One of his songs performed that day was “Billie Jean”. Released ten years before, featuring a deep bass line and telling a story, it was and is a song the people enjoy dancing to. It’s not ranked the best Super Bowl halftime show, but it’s the first commercialized pop version. The league and network had never done anything like that. They’ve since learned from mistakes and improved the show until we’re at this point. Frankly, the shows have become fat to me and can use some simplification, but that’s me.

If you’re watching the game — or the commercials, or halftime show, as so many people do, I hope you’re entertained. I’ll watch the game and cheer the KC Chiefs in honor of my neighbor, Walt. After being a lifelong KC fan, waiting for another SB victory, he died the year before Andy Reid and Patrick Mahommes delivered the first SB win since Hank Stram and Len Dawson took them to the big show in 1969 and defeated the Minnesota Vikings and Al Kapp.

Stay strong, remain positive, lean forward, and register and vote, if you’re in a democracy and afforded the opportunity. Here’s the music; coffee has been guzzled. But first, a 1993 SB commercial break from Lee Jeans, featuring a young Alan Cumming.

Cheers

The Writing Moment

I had a strong and productive writing session yesterday. But being so involved, my sense of time evaporated. I found myself leaving the coffee shop an hour later than usual.

I couldn’t go directly home, but had to go buy light bulbs. Finishing with that errand, I jumped into the car to head home. By now, I was an hour and a half later than usual.

My phone rang. It was my wife. “What’s up?” I asked.

“Where are you?” she answered. “You’re much later than your usual time. I’m calling to see if you’re dead or unconscious in a hospital.”

“You called to see if I was dead or unconscious?” I laughed.

She did not.

Lights Out

Light bulbs are so like cereal, ice cream, and bread. The range of choices sprawl along store aisles like invading armies staging to attack.

It’s been a period of lights out in our house. Light bulbs retired in the last several weeks all over our house. Kitchen, stove top, office, bedroom, garage, living room accent light have all been afflicted. As each burned out, I checked pulled it and checked it out for the replacement. Several of them hadn’t been replaced since being installed in 2006, when we moved in, so we got our mileage out of them. Easiest, in theory, was the office light, which had been first to go dark.

There are actually three bulbs up there. I pulled off the shade to take a look. One was burned out; one socket was empty. The third was almost an antique: 60 watts, GE, filament, frosted white. Poor thing.

“Can we get something brighter?” my wife asked. She’s had a lifetime of vision issues and compensates by turning on every light possible. When she uses the kitchen, she generally turns on four sets of lights. Yes, four. There are ceiling spotlights, under-cabinet work lights, and breakfast bar lights. The dining room is adjacent, just on the other side of the breakfast counter, so she always turns on it on to, adding the lumens from its five bulbs. There are basically 23 bulbs of different wattage going on when she’s in the kitchen.

The only one no in use alone is the sink task light. The others’ switches are clustered together, four switches under one faceplate by the kitchen’s entrance. She just spreads her fingers, flattens her palm, and hits them all, usually simultaneously click. But the sink task light is by the sink, and she forgets it. Funny, because it’s my favorite, and the one I mostly use, usually the only one I use. Just for the record, there’s also the range top lights, which are part of the hood/fan assembly attached to the microwave’s underside. She doesn’t use them. I use them when I’m cooking or to leave a light on when we’re out of the house and returning after dark.

The office required a sixty-watt bulb. Easy peasy, right? But how many Ks should it have, and lumens? I want an energy saver but of what nature? These were things that I didn’t know that I needed to know. I ended up with 60-watt comparable LED daylight white 5000K bulbs boasting of 750 lumens. Three were installed and the shade installed. Then, click.

OMG. “Wow.” My wife sounded giddy. “I can see.”

I was overwhelmed. She often accuses me of being in the dark, scolding, “How can you see in here?” Under the force of these three bulbs, I felt that sunglasses would be suitable. And they only use eight watts of power, don’t emit much heat, and should last over ten years.

“So you like them?” I facetiously asked. “Do you want them in the bedroom?”

“Yes!”

With that done to her satisfaction, I turned to the kitchen. The ceiling spotlights, all old energy-savers, issued a duller light. “Want me to install daylight bulbs in here?”

She hesitated. “They’re awfully bright.”

Screw it; I did it. Well, there are four of them. I replaced three.

“Oh my God,” she exclaimed. “I can see. Wow. This place is really dirty.”

No, it wasn’t, but she’s fond of using hyperbole like that.

“Too bright?” I asked. They were 75-watt comparable LED spotlights rated at 650 lumens and 4800K clear daylight. Yes, indeed, they were bright. They also cost about eight dollars each but would endure for almost twelve years. Their specs also claimed their use would only cost about $.016 per year. The last coaxed doubt out of me. Surely that couldn’t be right.

After those bulbs, the rest were anticlimactic. 40 watts for the range. 35-watts LED with a G8 pin base for the under-cabinet work lights. A 50-watts soft white pin mini spotlight (L9) for the living room accent installation over the fireplace, and one of the 60-watt LED bulbs (I’d purchased a ten-pack of the FEIT offering) in the garage. In all, I installed fifteen bulbs, learned a smattering more about the world of lighting, and spent about $57 in light bulbs. But I should spend less on replacements and use less energy.

We’ll see. It was so, so different from the old days of finding a small hardware section and buying almost exclusively on their wattage. Like cereal, which now has what seems like a million choices. Or bread and all of its options over wheat, grain, multi-grain, gluten-free — well, you probably know the dealio. We’ve come a long way from sliced white bread.

Or ice cream. You better know what you want when you decide to buy ice cream in a grocery store. Low fat, dairy free, gluten free, etc. That’s just a start. Then there are sizes and flavors. Prices. Or are you going to go with other options, like frozen yogurt? Options and choices can be overwhelming.

Just like when you buy light bulbs.

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