Wednesday’s Theme Music

Using my keen powers of deduction, I observed that yesterday was Tuesday. Therefore, today must be Wednesday.

I reported my results to the chief. She downed whisky-infused black coffee that was probably brewed before the first Gemini rocket launch and gave me a gimlet eye. “Not bad, rookie.”

Today is Wednesday, 5/3/2023. The temperature God is blessing us with a 47 F temperature. The rain God is misting us off and off, while the sun God winks in and out behind the cloud God’s offerings. “We expect it to reach 65 today,” a weather dude tells me on the QT. A little after six bells was rung, the sun rolled over Ashlandia’s horizon albeit beyond a cloud wall. We’ll hear eight bells in the evening before the sun lives us in her wake.

The felines have been fed, and approve of their morning meal. It’s a wet meal enlivened with a few tablespoons of warm water. They love the combo. Tucker’s repast includes his meds. In fact, that’s how the warm morning meal was established, by medicating previous cats who needed meds but battled taking them.

Gordon Lightfoot passed this week. The Canadian musician/singer/songwriter’s end of life probably isn’t news to you, but the knowledge was swirling around in my thoughts, along with weather observations, so The Neurons spooned “Early Morning Rain” by GL into my morning mental music stream. A vote was taken with the cats and it was chosen as today’s theme music.

Coffee is almost done as I’m behind schedule this morning, a victim of helping a friend. Stay pos, and be the master of your domain. Here’s the music.

Cheers

Tuesday’s Wandering Thought

He was hot. She was, she said, “Freezing.”

This wasn’t new.

But her fingers were white and waxy, like bloodless white candles. Their appearance stunned him into silence. She said they ached.

He merely sweated. So it was not the same thing. For her, it was pain. For him, it was comfort.

Flooftalk

Flooftalk (floofinition) – 1. Speaking done by animals.

In use: “The dog, cat, and birds engaged in flooftalk — the fish may have been saying something, too, for they were avidly eyeing the scene from inside their aquarium — but Brenda had no idea of the topic, looking for intruders and seeing nothing, even as she asked the animals, “What is it? What are you guys talking about?” Like most flooftalk which she overheard, she never learned what was being discussed.”

2. Imperfect or altered manner of speech people use in addressing animals.

In use: ‘Her dog greeted her with a polite bark and heavy tail wagging. “Did you miss me, boy?” Jill replied in flooftalk, bending to pet the pug. “Who’s a good dog? Who’s a pretty dog?”‘

3. Conversations about animal health and behavior, or about observations regarding animals.

In use: “A flooftalk broke out every evening as Mitchell shared with Kevin the latest humorist episode of their foster cats.”

DIY, Kind Of

Telephone charging. That’s what gave me my answer. Of course, I wouldn’t have been there if I’d not taken shortcuts. But I like shortcuts.

Our net connection went dark last Friday night. After rebooting, I figured, ah, something wrong with the local provider. When it was out the next morning, I reported it to see what they said. The tired sounding female on the other end said, “No one else is reporting any problem in your area.” She followed up with basic questions. What lights do you have? Are all the connections tight? After my answers, she said, “We’ll need to escalate.” Like, that was all she had. “You’re get a call between now and Monday morning.”

The cable modem was showing the ethernet was up and the power was on, but nothing being received or sent to the provider, even after reports. T’ain’t a flicker. I checked my notes. Cable modems normally last five years. This one was five years old. Time for a new one.

Basic research was conducted about what worked with the provider’s network and what didn’t, and if there would be anything to look for to match it with my router. A few reviews were read on the phone, then we went shopping. I bought a simple Arris SB6 series which wasn’t too pricy and was said to fit my network. We plugged it in and got lights for everything, so it was the cable modem, but couldn’t connect to the network. I knew from past experience it was because the provider had to activate it on their end.

Monday morning, I called it in and they brought it up. All was well. Until…

When I returned from my coffee writing session, my wife darkly informed me that our net is not fixed. “It keeps going out.”

I tracked that. Yes, it was going out every six to ten minutes, rebooting, then coming back online. Connections were checked. All was good. WTF?

I noodled it over for several hours. Plugged in new cables. No change. Did research. Nobody had anything else. But the cable connection didn’t make sense to me anyway. Looked like the modem was going off, then we were losing the connection. Then it rebooted. Could be an attack but doubtful.

Then it hit. Power. Microvolts and amps.

Like in the phone chargers and Fitbits.

We’ve learned that not all chargers work with the trackers and phones. Minute differences cause problems. That could be the case now with the cable modem. At least, I needed to check and eliminate it.

The cable modem’s power is embedded in a very sophisticated system that I set up thirteen years ago. Color coded and everything. Hard as hell to reach. So when I bought the new cable modem, I used the old power line and supply. Now, I dug out the proper line, disconnected it and plugged in the new one. Everything booted up properly. The cable modem stayed on and the connection remained solid.

I put everything back together. Lesson learned, again. Beware of shortcuts.

Tuesday’s Theme Music

Spring showers slap Ashlandia. Sunshine forfeits the day to rain and clouds. Though it’s mid-morning, lights are turned on. A train’s horn haunts the quiet wet streets as a train glides through town on its metal path. It’s Tuesday, May 2, 2023. 47 degrees F now, the mid fifties is possible, the weather wranglers tell me.

Rain doesn’t please the cats. Tucker wanders, singing for sunshine to return. Papi showers me, questioning noises, alerting when he sees another cat walking toward him. “Hark! Who goes there?” Papi challenges. Tucker issues a lazy glance. Papi mutters, “Oh, it’s you,” and scurries off.

Today’s theme music comes from Jill Dennison’s post about a Chicago song called “You’re the Inspiration”. Hearing it reminded Der Neurons of another Chicago song. Maybe because it’s May. My wife and I went to the same high school. She was a year behind me. In May of her senior year, 1975, I was in the military and we were engaged. She was our school’s May Queen that year. Stationed just a few hundred miles from her, I came ‘back home’ for the event. One of the first slow dances we shared together was to a song called “Colour My World” by Chicago from 1970. Hearing it, I can smell and feel her. Then she asks, “What are you doing? Are you sniffing me?”

“Yes, I was sniffing you,” I reply with a sarcastic snort. “You’re so full of yourself. Why would I be sniffing you?”

“Why are you sniffing me?” she answers. “Do I need a bath?”

We’re still together despite lots of turbulence. I think we’re just too damn obstinate to walk away, although we’ve tried twice.

Coffee’s rich smell is calling from the other run. Stay pos and own the day. I’m just renting it, myself. Here’s the music. “Make Me Smile” is included in the video. Cheers

Monday’s Theme Music

Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday –

It goes round and round with stifling tedium.

We travelers through time and space have landed on Monday. It’s May 1, 2023. As we expected. As ‘they’ planned it. Not sure if ‘they’ are Gods, Fates, machines, or some alien life form.

It’s cold today here. Our warm spell of sprummer has petered out. The autosystem has switched us to spring mode. 47 F now, the weather predictors tell us look for clouds. Check, got clouds. Ain’t no sunshine out there. High in the mid sixties Fahrenheit, and rain. We’ll wait and see, but they seem to have it right.

Finally got the new cable modem activated today. Called them up, read customer care the MAC and then waited for the cycle.

We live in the small town of Ashlandia in southern Oregon and use the local Internet provider. Town owns it and we’re trying to support the town. That means the minor sacrifice of not having a 24/7 response team. Shrug. How it goes. We went old school for the weekend, well, quasi old school, sneaking off to find public nets and use them to check email, post, catch up on news and games, lol. We also read, cleaned house, talked, and – gasp – watched over-the-air television.

Watching television was a hoot. We’ve been streaming over a decade. Turn on local channels for weather and local news, which is thinly and poorly reported. Just not enough money in it for the traditional local TV revenue stream. Change, right? There are whole channels dedicated to television shows from the day of yore. There’s a block of ‘war’ shows – Rat Patrol, Twelve O’Clock High, Black Sheep, Combat, etc. Another block is about westerns with Gunsmoke, Have Gun Will Travel, The Bounty Hunter, Wagon Train. It’s a true hoot visiting these blocks. Sometimes I wince at what I used to watch. Production values have improved, but they entertained me when I was young. Naturally, we also watched an episode of the original Star Trek.

For music, I have “Take it to the Limit” by the Eagles from 1975 in the morning mental music stream. The Neurons put it in the morning mental music stream while I was hustled through the house for the bathroom this morning. I don’t want to connect any dots there, though.

I’ve had coffee and brekkie. Getting ready to head to the coffee shop and begin round four of editing and revising The Light of Memories. You have a good one and try to stay pos. I’ll do the same. Here’s the Eagles.

Cheers

The Writing Moment

I finished the third round of revision and editing for The Light of Memories. Don’t think the title is ever mentioned in the book BTW. When I read the last chapter, a short but sturdy creature, I cried. Not sure if the crying was for the character, ending, or being done with the process again. There I was at the coffee shop, a few years short of seventy, looking at my laptop and struggling against tears. Fortunately, I don’t think anyone noticed because I’m a man a few years short of seventy at a coffee shop.

I saved the doc and closed it, and then resumed writing another novel. I don’t know if time waits for anyone but I do know that when the muses say jump, I jump and then ask, “How high?”

Belief

I’m a someday believer

A fluid self-deceiver

An optimist convinced I’m making it ahead

Probably be the way

Until that final day

When they solemnly announce I’m dead

But what will I find

Beyond that life and death line

Remains to be found I’ve said

Because I’m a someday believer

Thinking there might be more to conceive or

Even know beyond the book of dead

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