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.

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: squeaky

46 F and light rain now, but Wednesday, December 27, 2023, began with a windy assault that took over all the trash receptacles put out for pick up, and a steady rain thrashing us through the night and morning in Ashlandia, where folks are mostly friendly, and the food tastes almost above average. BTW, 46 F is today’s high.

Tucker didn’t mind the rain, closing his mind and eyes against what was happening outside, and remaining inside, a wise approach to handling it. Papi, though, insisted on trying the outer realm, soaking his fur. “How dare you!” he meowed at the world after beating on the window and returning inside. A brief pause by my side so that I could pet and admire him, and then he was off to the kibble bowl to scarf.

A friend’s holiday letter had this paragraph, and I found it cute, humorous, and even inspiring, so I thought it should be shared. Note: Pam is her daughter and is five years older than me.

“Pam managed to get 95 balloons to come sailing into her dining room while we were having my birthday dinner celebration in October. What a riot that was! She personally blew up 35 of them before she ran out of air and wisely got help! We batted one red balloon around the table exactly 95 times before it hit the floor. Great fun!”

A retired dancer and teacher, she’s a sweet and terrific character and wonderful friend, as is Pam, and Pam’s children. Nice to know such people.

The Neurons dumped “Katmandu” by Bob Seger into the morning mental music stream (Trademark dissolved) as I made the bed this morning. Not a bad song at all, but I have no idea what they were thinking when they began playing the song. However, when I saw the holiday letter again on my office desk and read again the tale about the birthday balloons, I issued a veto override and went with “99 Red Balloons” by Nena from 1984. Hah, take that, Neurons.

Stay pos, test negative, be strong, and lean forward. Coffee levels are being replenished as I type. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Viafloofor

Viafloofor (floofinition) – An animal, especially pet, who enjoys traveling or walking around by themselves. Origins: ancient Rome

In Use: “Charlie, a chunky ginger boi, was a regular viafloofor, walking the sidewalks and visiting homes and businesses as though he followed a schedule, which was useful for being served pets and treats.”

In Use: “Bear was never much of a viafloofor, preferring his bed or a comfortable warm spot of sun-kissed lawn in the backyard, to walking around, unless it was to greet his people or make an acquaintance with something to eat.”

Recent Use: “OMwazeng on YouTube has a video of a cat named Dodger, a viafloofor who takes the bus every day.”

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Tuesday’s Wandering Thought

Got a question for y’all: what is this ‘X’ thing I keep seeing? Anyone know?

Also, whatever happened to ‘Twitter’?

Yes, some holiday snark because everyone in the media keeps adding, “X, formerly Twitter.” Like we haven’t gotten it by now. I guess they’re still trying to cope with the change and put it up to remind themselves.

And yes, I did post about X and Twitter before in a similar vein. And no, I’m not obsessed with it. Not officially. Not yet.

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: blinky

It’s Tuesday, December 26, 2023. 39 F outside, it’s almost Christmas cold. Clouds and sunshine are rotating through influences. One moment, it’s a bright shiny day and you stand at the window and stare out at blue. Not pretty out there, a little sodden, with faded grasses and bare trees except for the conifers. Then clouds swing back in, dulling it all more in its appearance, and quickly dropping a chill on the space. High will be 54 F. Precipitation isn’t predicted.

Most of the holidays are past but now the herd wheels toward the largest, most universally regarded holiday: New Year. People plan a party, a celebration to last throughout the year. Or they seek a humble day of new beginnings. Resolutions are made, dreams and hopes addressed again, and vows are given, sometimes privately, about how the next year will be different. Thoughts turn to everything pending, and the things on the world agenda, and how they might unfold. Sighs are released like the wind whispering with the first notes of an incoming storm.

The cats stayed in and curled up, sweet as cats can be, and less distrustful and threatening to one another.

Our Christmas was low key. Just my wife and I at home. Very relaxing and enjoyable for me. I mostly read and stayed off net most of the day. Did watch parts of two football games. Also watched “Hogfather” because she said she’d never seen it. We had croissants and fruit for breakfast. I made our roasted root veggies soup in the afternoon and we ate about five. I also texted with little sister #2 several times, tracking activities and the state of things.

Heard from sis, though, that another sister and her hubby’s COVID is terrible and that it has been passed on to two other family members.

Musically, I was thinking about change, and The Neurons offered up David Bowie and “Modern Love” from 1983 into the morning mental music stream (Trademark traded). I thought, why that? Tracing back over my thought pattern, I recognized that I’d used but things don’t really change. Bowie incorporates that: “I catch the paper boy but things don’t really change. I’m standing in the wind.” I always thought the last line there was about standing in the winds of change, but that’s just me.

Stay pos, test neg, be strong, and move forward. The coffee fuel is being loaded; countdown has begun. In three…two…

Here’s the music. Cheers

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Christmas’s Theme Music

Mood: holidayish

Happy holidays and merry Christmas, world. It’s Monday, December 25, 2023 in Ashlandia, where the weather doesn’t resemble winter today. 51 F with strong winds kicking the trees around and fog keeping the sun socked in makes it less than merry out there. It disappoints the cats who are like, “This isn’t what we ordered. We ordered sunshine and warm weather. Turn off the winds or someone will pay.”

Been exchanging texts with family today. Mom has some potential DVT issues. Her doctor wanted her in for tests today but she rejected that, heading to her daughter’s house to celebrate the day and eat. Almost veryone gravitated toward little sister number two’s house for a holiday meal. It was a small spread.

She and my other sisters take after Mom and are good cooks. Dessert is off in another area.

COVID is rising, judging anecdotally. Another friend reported positive, with sneezing, coughing, body aches, and a fever. He’s the fifth in our circle in the last three weeks. A sister and her hubby are down with COVID back in the home zone, and it’s reported to be bad. Hope they all fully recovered.

Today’s holiday music comes by way of my spouse. She heard Duke Ellington and His Orchestra doing a jazz interpretation of The Nutcracker Suite. Here they are with “Sugar Rum Cherry (Dance of the Sugar-Plum Fairy)”.

Stay pos, move forward, be strong, and test negative. Wishing you all the best for the rest of this year and many more years to come. Off we go, coffee in hand, ho, ho, ho.

Here’s the music. Cheers

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood: spirited

T’was the day before Christmas and all across the land

few people were thinking that everything was grand

those with money to spend had brought presents to no end

while those lacking food and shelter did what they could do

Yes, today is Sunday, December 24, 2023, the day before Christmas in the US. Light rain intermittently douses us in wintery 43 F temps under a dystopian dim sun stuck behind the clouds. It’s today’s high, already achieved, so we have that going for us in Ashlandia, where the Christmas decorations are average and the Kwanza and Hannukah celebrations are muted.

I found myself with the Red Hot Chili Pepper’s 2006 cover of Stevie Wonder’s “Higher Ground” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark gifted). Those first lyrics that include soldiers keep on warrin’ was in my mind during this holiday month, when so many people talk about peace on Earth and goodwill toward man while doing the opposite so often. Few walk the talk. They’re just depressin’ damn people, especially the faux christians who have emerged.

Let’s just call them faustians, which is really similiar to faustian, isn’t it? Interesting; those faustians (faux christians) focus on themselves, complaining about how overlooked and put upon they are, which, in their words, is terrible because they have the best religion and god. Meanwhile, faustian is an adjective to describe things often done for present gain without any thought about the future, which is exactly what the faustians (faux christians) do; they want to go back to some faux good ol’ days when women knew their place and it was in the house, and there were only two genders and one sexual orientation – male on female – and men were in charge, and all bad things like racism, bigotry, and discrimination were all swept into places where it couldn’t be seen. They didn’t want to hear about women being raped (because they probably deserved it anyway, in their minds, because of how they dressed or acted). Nor did they want to know about people born with a mix of gene sets that creates a spectrum of true and viable genders. God only created two genders, darn it, and science is bad because it teaches otherwise, so don’t trust it.

Factories were in America and all things were made in America, because it was and is and always will be the greatest nation in the world (because, god), and the houses were all the same clean cottages behind fine white picket fences, except for the wealthy but noble and pious people who lived in mansions on the hill, away from the riff raff. To achieve their goals, faustians will lie and pretend their leaders are wonderful people, overlooking or even rationalizing their crimes, and go to war to make peace, because they believe in god, and that makes everything that they do okay. Diversity is not good in the faustian world. Nor is critical thinking.

Anyway, that’s why I’m playing “Higher Ground”.

Stay pos, be strong, and keep leaning forward toward a higher ground. Coffee drinking is underway. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Floogi

Floogi (floofinition) – An especially mystical or reflective animal. Origins: Floofskrit. First known use, 1613.

In Use: “Sienna had owned many cats and dogs, and often thought most of the cats had mystical qualities, but Samuel Jackson was the first dog she had who seemed like a floogi.”

In Use: “Jade often set up in a serene and watchful pose, her emerald eyes partially closed, a floogi contemplating existence.”

Recent Use: “Felines’ propensity to often seem like floogis has given rise on the net to posts with cats looking serene while saying something counter to the moment, such as, ‘I may look sweet but forget to feed me on time and my mittens of death will tear you a new one.'”

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