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.
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
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.
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.”
We were talking about classes we wished we’d had when we were young. Like, explanations about how much your body might change as you age. We knew that would happen, of course. Saw it in mother and father, aunts and uncles, etc. But how do you impress how much of it’s within and outside of your control, and how there is an accumulative impact? Despite exercise and health, some of these things take you by surprise and take you down, mentally, physically, emotionally.
Maybe such information is now being taught. Of course, with the net and technology, more of it is available.
July 22, 2023. It’s a warm, quiet Saturday morning in Ashlandia, where the trees are old and so are most of the people. 71 F with smoke — a light haze, really — nature is pressing on the pedal and taking us up to 95 F. That’s where she likes cruising in our life zone these days.
The thing about our weather is that it’s a slow build. Sweetly pleasant in the morning, it gets warm but not uncomfortable. People go outside and exclaim how nice it is. Stays like that, gently skipping through the low 80s. Then, around 3 PM, BAM. You hear a noise and look at one another. “What’s that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sounded like it was outside.”
“We’d better go look.”
So we leave our cool enclosure and walk out and then, say to each other as we fan our faces, “Oh my god, it’s so hot out.”
The cats then shift into deeper shadow. Papi and Tucker, who normally stay away from one another, make a treaty and settle in shade on the porch, riding out the heat until the evening, when hostilities re-commence. The heat stays in the air until after nine on these nights, then scales down into the high seventies by ten. Windows and doors are opened to receive the cool night air. Sleep, rise, repeat.
We’re heading to Lake of the Woods Resort. Less than an hour from us up in the low mountains, the small lake is comforted by tall, old trees. Doesn’t get nearly as hot, and the lake breezes are muy refreshing. A band will be playing and BBQ will be underway. They’ll be dancing and socializing like it’s 1988, as the band, Saucy, covers songs from that area. Should be a good time. I’m excited about going.
Perhaps because of the heat, I have a Lover Boy song from 1983, “Hot Girls in Love” in the morning mental music stream (trademark dismissed). I can only guess the hot weather is why The Neurons slipped into the MMMS. Other guesses are welcomed.
Remain positive, stay calm, and keep on keeping on. The coffee has been injected, I mean, sipped. I feel my energy rising. Keep it real. Hey, ho, let’s go. Here’s the tune.
He watched a series called “Quarterbacks” on Netflix. It focused on three NFL quarterbacks. One of them is Patrick Mahomes of Kansas City. After a big play that clinched a game for his team, Mahomes ran around the field, jumping and shouting, “That’s what I fucking do. That’s what I fucking do. That’s what I fucking do.”
He admired the man’s enthusiasm, energy, and celebration. Maybe after finishing a chapter in the novel in progress, he should celebrate in the same way, leaping up and running around the coffee shop shouting, “That’s what I fucking do. That’s what I fucking do. That’s what I fucking do.”
Probably wouldn’t go over too well, he decided. Disrupt the ambiance too much. Best to just continue celebrating successes with private exultation.
