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.

Monday’s Theme Music

Mood: upbeat

Let me introduce you. This is Monday, July 24, 2023. It’s a day which can really help you. You should get to know it.

Today’s weather in Ashlandia, where the cost of living is high and the less-fortunate struggle, finds the air stopping at 88 F. It’s 64 F, and I’ll tell you, brothers and sisters, that cool air feels so good to my skin. Goes well with hot coffee. Yes, I’ve already started downing a cup.

Smoke finally reached us in a serious manner last night. Kicked our AQI into unhealthy levels and was a stench in the air. Shut offended windows. Fortunately, not all required they be closed. Just the northern and western in our arc of Ashlandia.

The Neurons have planted “Secret Agent Man” by Johnny Rivers from the mid-sixties in the morning mental music stream (trademark dangerous). Secret Agent was a television show of the time in the US, a rebooted version of the Brit show, Danger Man. SA starred Patrick McGoohan. I wasn’t a huge fan that I recall, but I remember several extended family members would put it on when we were at Grandma & Grandpa’s house, and I’d watch. My preferred spy show was The Man from U.N.C.L.E. I adopted that in a big way.

Anyway, “Secret Agent Man” is in my stream because I started singing it to my cat. Floofurally, my version was “Secret Agent Floof”. This was dedicated to Papi because after he ate today, I’d find him peering around corners. When I said his name or went to visit with him, he’d galloped away on a mission, only to return a short time later. Ah, floof games in the morning.

So, I have my coffee, and I’m drinking it. You can have some of your own if you wish. Or something else. Whatever works for you, within the bounds of — well, you know the bounds. Don’t go out of bounds. Stay pos and strong, and don’t let the world’s multiple messes undercut your spirit. You can do this.

Here’s the music. Sound and pic sync is a little off. Tech. What can I say? Cheers

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Details

I remember a time –

It might have been in the sixties. Or maybe the seventies.

I think I was living in Pennsylvania then. Or Ohio.

And I was probably in –

Let me think.

I was born in 1956 so if it was in the sixties, I would have probably been thirteen or so.

So, no.

No, I think I was older than that.

So it must have been in the 1970s when this happened.

Yes, that’s right. I was in high school.

It was a sunny day.

Dad and I – he had his red Thunderbird then –

Oh, no, wait, he had the Monte Carlo, the burgundy Monte Carlo.

You know the model, the one with the swoopy lines, and the captain’s chairs?

He bought that new in 1974.

Had to be 1974 because I graduated that year, and I remember driving that car.

Then I left home.

Oh, and we were living in Virginia. That’s right.

I remember now. It’s all coming back.

It was ’74.

Anyway, Dad and I were in the car together, going somewhere.

I think it was a Sunday.

Yes, it must have been a Sunday, because he was off.

We were going to a restaurant for dinner.

Which surprised me. He suggested it. We never went out for dinner, he and I.

It was just us living together then.

Yes, I remember, we went to an Italian restaurant. He had the veal parm.

I don’t know what I had.

Anyway, let me finish.

We were in the Monte Carlo.

And he said, “What do you plan to do with your life?”

The question surprised me.

He never asked me these things.

Shrugging after a few seconds, I answered, “I don’t know.

“What did you plan to do with your life?”

We came to a red traffic light. He stopped the car behind the other cars.

We were the fourth car.

The car in front of us was a pickup truck.

Dad looked out the windshield straight ahead until the light turned green.

Then, as we started forward, he said, “Touché.”

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Another WordPress Sunday

I wrote a post and went to save that draft.

Unfortunately, the button wasn’t there.

Being optimistic despite past experience, I thought I’d add the tags and select the categories.

But no tags could be saved. I’d enter them and they would disappear.

So I thought I’d select the categories.

But there weren’t any.

Couldn’t save, couldn’t add tags, couldn’t select categories.

All I could do is wait and hope.

And post this short rant, to see what happens to it.

Because I’m a WordPress user.

And I’m an optimist.

Part Deux

I published this and it went fine.

I selected update.

To see what happened next.

The tags were saved for the published post.

But there were still no categories.

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood: good

It’s Sunday, July 23, 2023. July is eyeing the calendar, getting ready to clock out for another year. Many say that being a month is a good gig. You only work 28 to 31 days, depending on which month you draw. But July tells me it was hard being July this year, hot and disastrous almost 24/7. “Never a let up.” She pursed her lips. “I will not miss it.”

It’s ten till a cup of coffee and 71 degrees F with smoke in Ashlandia, where beauty is everywhere and the beer flows by the pint. The high today is 94 F, and the smoke still comes from the Flat fire to our west. The Lake of the Woods outing yesterday was fab entertaining. Good friends, tasty food, lots of dancing to a wonderful band called Saucy, and pleasant fresh air that cooled as the horizon slipped over the sun. Saucy advertised themselves as a party dance band that covers songs from the eighties and nineties, but they put some sixties in there and music from the seventies and aughts.

After a couple hours of dancing, shouldn’t be surprising that The Neurons posted “And We Danced” by The Hooters from 1985 in the morning mental music stream (trademark complicated). See, it’s about dancing, yeah? Yeah. That explains it all. Song stayed there despite a barrage of dreams,

Time to get on hoping, coping, striving, trying, crying, thriving, pushing, pulling, eating, sleeping, loving, living, and all the accoutrements of going through another day. Stay strong, be pos. Here’s the music. Let’s go. Cheers

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The Writing Moment

Deeply immersed in an intensive writing session, he struggled coming out and adjusting to the light, sound, and activity outside of his head. Encountering an energetic, talkative friend, he could do little but smile and nod. After they parted, she probably thought him rude or something. He should have a tee shirt made that says, “I’m not being anti-social, but I’ve been writing.” ‘Cause the writing stays on even when he walks away from the session. If there’s an off-switch, he’s not sure where it is.

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Floofgom

Floofgom (floofinition) – Floofish word that roughly translates to ‘just enough’ or ‘good balance’.

In use: “For many cats, when floofgom is reached when their belly is being rubbed, they will immediately announce, ‘That’s enough’, often by love bites or some quick claw action.”

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