Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
He follows, and then he follows.
Each leading and following
Looking to the other to lead and follow,
Pausing to see where the other is,
More comfortable and reassured after knowing this,
Going back to join them, waiting,
Changing paths, creating intersections,
Following and leading,
Friends and not masters,
Weaving memories of entwining lives together.
I wear a hat on most days. It’s an olive green Tilly, my second one. Several pieces of flair adorn it.
I encountered a new young barista at the coffee shop today, Teagan. She told me how much she likes my hat and all the stuff on it. I smiled, replying, “That’s my flair.”
Saying, “Oh, my God,” Teagan began laughing.
“Office Space,” I supplied.
“Yes, yes, yes!”
She and I reminisced about the movie’s big moments and enduring legacy. The red stapler. The consultants. Cubicles. Destroying the annoying printer. TPS reports. She loved the movie, she said, especially the ending.
Yes, it worked for me, too, when it came out in 1999. I’d retired from the military and was working for a startup in Palo Alto, CA, at that point. Written and directed by Mike Judge, starring Ron Livingstone, Jennifer Aniston, and Stephen Root, the movie spoke to me about corporate culture and management. Remembering it now after the convo with the barista, I sit here grinning, ready to break into a laugh.
It’s Sunday, June 18, 2023. Let’s put this day on our back and run wild. You know, like Trump said that gangs of young people do by the hundreds. Except he said they were running into department stores and stealing refrigerators by strapping them on their backs and running out of the stores. Cities all across the nation. Sure you’ve seen some videos of it on the net or television. I haven’t. Doesn’t seem to be happening in my world.
It’s a chilly 58 F almost summer morning. Gonna be 69 before we’re done with the sun in Ashlandia, where the cats are smart and the drivers are below average. Clouds dominate the blue above like Game of Thrones dominated HBO. Sun is out there, poking and peeking around said clouds but a front tempers the sun’s effects.
Our house floofs are not pleased with this turn. Their exact comments, said in unison, was, “What the hell? Where is the warmth?” They search for it outside and then turn their sights inside, settling down on old familiars like the sofa and bed. They’re miffed but they’re not letting that impede a good nap.
The bears are awake, out, and active, so beware. Mostly going for trash cans, trashing bird feeders — they are especially fond of hummingbird feeders — or trying to open doors to see what’s on the other side.
We’re bemoaning the state of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. They made some unusual moves the last several years. The artistic director resigned this year and OSF is begging us to donate money so that the show can go on. Meanwhile, they uprooted the Tudor Guild a few years ago — said that the landlord raised the rent — and bought and built several properties, and moved their offices to a swanky new locations. The pandemic, wildfires, and smoke affected them — the primary theater is open-air — but they also killed several youth-oriented programs which focused on introducing school children to plays. If it sounds like chaos, that’s how it feels living alongside it.
Today’s song is “Photograph” by Nickelback from 2005. It was inspired by looking at some photos, of course. I’d stumbled across them as I looked for something else. I was surprised that The Neurons brought out this instead of something like “Kodachrome” by Simon or “Photograph” by Ringo. But The Neurons have a mind of their own. The song works as today’s theme music, as it’s all about looking back, reacting and remembering. Photographs of Dad were in there, which was nice serendipity for Father’s Day in America.
Stay pos, and don’t let the weight grind you down. My morning cuppa coffee is over. Time to move it, move it, move it. Here’s the music. Cheers
As an unrepentant eternal optimist, I like this sentiment.
I think Ron nicely captured the mood imparted on many days.
My Retirement
bliss bliss bliss bliss biss bliss bliss bliss
bliss bliss bliss bliss biss bliss bliss bliss
bliss bliss bliss bliss biss bliss bliss bliss
bliss bliss bliss bliss biss bliss bliss bliss
bliss bliss bliss–chore—bliss bliss bliss
bliss bliss bliss bliss biss bliss bliss bliss
bliss bliss bliss bliss biss bliss bliss bliss
bliss bliss bliss bliss biss bliss bliss . . . .
Though, to be honest, some days it’s more like:
chore chore chore chore chore chore chore chore
chore chore chore chore chore chore chore chore
chore chore chore chore chore chore chore chore
chore chore chore chore chore chore chore chore
chore chore chore — bliss — chore chore chore
chore chore chore chore chore chore chore chore
chore chore chore chore chore chore chore chore
chore chore chore chore chore chore chore . . . .
(I’m aiming for…
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Floofwrangling (floofinition) – 1. To herd, gather, or care for animals, especially pets.
In use: “Fostering kittens and puppies turned Sara into a floofwrangling expert, but her latest little demons were the most energetic and clever clowder she’d ever had.”
2. Arguing with an animal.
In use: “Mara was forced into daily floofwrangling with her Dobie over absolutely everything because the boy was smart and delighted in vexing her, which, ironically, was exactly why she loved him.”
I’m beginning a new DYI. Our GE Profile dishwasher stopped delivering the desired efficacy. Six years old, though, very old in modern appliance age, I guess it’s showing its age. Troubleshooting was done last night and I think I’ve identified the problem. Repair plans are in place for later today. Since the dishes were still dirty after three washings, my wife and removed the dishes. She washed them, then we dried and put them away.
I remembered when Mom bought her first dishwasher. A white portable unit with a faux blonde wood top. This was in the late sixties when we lived on Laurie Drive in Penn Hills, PA. Purchased from Sears, I think it was a Kenmore but I’m not pos.
The dishwasher was on wheels. She parked it over beside the backdoor where its top was useful for storing napkin holders and the salt and pepper shaker, along with pens and a notepad for the phone. Cherry red, the phone had been updated to a pushbutton device. Hung on the wall separating the kitchen and dining room, the phone had an extra long cord which let Mom cradle it against her ear as she cleaned, cooked, or sat at the dining room table or in the living room.
Her new dishwasher really pleased Mom. She employed it every night after dinner. Eventually life forced her to move, several times as it turned out as fortunes waxed and waned. Eventually the dishwasher was sold. She lamented its absence and when she finally bought a house for herself a decade later, my sisters and I came together and bought her a new portable dishwasher. Eventually, my brothers-in-law, both in construction, renovated her house for her, including the kitchen, and the dishwasher was installed under the sink, where it remains.
As I remembered all this and talked with my wife, she pointed out that her Mom never had a dishwasher. Always did it by hand. We often ‘did the dishes’ as it’s phrased when we were visiting.
Funny thing about dishwasher one and two. Neither gave her any problems through all those years, even though that second one has now been in service for almost thirty years.
Different times, friends, different times.
Saturday, June 17, 2023, and the temperatures are dropping, preparing for summer in Ashlandia. Now 67 F with a cool breeze sometimes goosebumping us, today’s high will entrench itself in the upper 70s F. Tomorrow’s high will be 65 F and Monday, a rain recipient, has low expectations, just 55 F. Then it’s supposed to start slowly rising.
The morning began slow for me, a leisurely petting of the floofs, followed by a leisurely floof-petting session, capped with leisurely coffee-sipping on the porches to experience the cool air and spy on the floofs. Some interesting dreams to contemplate , including one about building a complex while dealing with a lion.
Today’s song, from 1991, is “Kiss Them for Me” by Siouxsie and the Banshees. The song features lines about being delayed. I was in the coffee shop yesterday when a man stopped by my table, looked back, and called to the person they’d been with, “Tell them I’ll be delayed.” I was writing and thought little of it but The Neurons went into a tizzy. Soon the song melody was drifting through me like smoke from a distant fire. Then I’d hum some lyrics to myself. Then, awakening to a song in the mental music stream, I realized that I’d been ambushed.
Just an aside but when the song came out in 1991, I didn’t think it was Siouxsie and the Banshees. It seemed different to me than their usual fare. like “Spellbound”. This is the first time that I’ve seen the “Kiss Them for Me” video.
Stay pos, drink coffee, unwind, relax, carpe the moment. Let’s do this again next year. Here’s the music. Cheers
I took a writing break and went for a walk. Gorgeous out there. Unfettered sunshine. 76 degrees F . Fragrances freed from blossoms and flowers surfed a light breeze. Submerging myself into the moment’s ambiance, I strode along.
A turn took me north, toward the far low mountain ridge. Blue sky rested on the peaks, but I drew up. The sky was hazy with dust or smoke.
Returning to my writing nest, I searched the net for wildfires and checked the air quality, worried that the smoke was sneaking in on us from one of them, worried that some conflagration was already growing and racing toward us.
It’s that time of year, you know.
Kankfloofdort (floofinition) – An awkward or embarrassing situation involving an animal.
In use: “Grace was in the middle of secretly giving treats to the scamperbeasts in the kitchen when in walked her dog. A kankfloofdort unfolded as Bear took in the treats and the munching cats, and then stared at her with hurt brown eyes.”
