A Traveling Dream

The beginning was chaotic. My wife and I were younger people. She had a girlfriend staying with us, no one knew from RL. We also had a small brown puppy on a red leash, a very smart dog.

She and her friend were trying to start a business. As I wasn’t involved, the details are scant to me. I was busy fixing things around the house, working in bathroom pipes around the sink and tub, then dashing over to work on the computer, helping my wife and her friend with their computer and the printer. All the time, the puppy follows me around and I talk to you. My wife will sometimes say, “Oh, no, where is the puppy,” because the puppy isn’t where she left him. “Relax,” I answer, “he’s right here beside me.”

Wife makes a tentative decision. Someone is interested in their business but they have to go meet them, which is a five-hour drive away. Will I take her? We jockey back and forth in the conversation, we me explaining that I don’t want to stay overnight because we have the puppy and there are things I must do, followed up by asking her, are you staying the night? How long will you be there?

She’s anxious with excitement, indecisive and scattered, frustrating me. I finally force the issue: I’ll drive you up and then return tonight. I’ll be driving ten hours. A neighbor comes and takes the puppy.

Then we’re in a car on a highway. I’m driving. I’m in the right-hand land of this divided highway, behind a car. The car is slowing. There’s a motorcycle in the left-hand lane but they’re several hundred yards back. I want to change lanes but the car in front of me is suddenly slowing. Checking my driver-side mirror, I discover that the motorcycle has caught up. I accelerate a little, create space, and change lanes.

That lane is now also slowing by a tremendous amount. What’s going on? I wonder, trying to see what’s ahead. First, we’re no longer on concrete; we’re on a soft dirt path. There are construction signs. The road is being worked on. Everyone, including us, is on foot, following one another like we’re cars.

We’re slowing. Ahead is a vertical pipe. We must climb up that. I’m carrying all of my wife’s luggage plus some long, heavy metal thing. I realize that I’d need to climb without using my hands. My wife and her friend anxiously watch, waiting for my decision about what I’ll do.

I realize, nobody else is carrying anything. They left it in their vehicle. Why didn’t we do that? I intuit that the construction people will transport the cars up to the other end of the pipe. This infuriates me; why do we need to leave our car at all? Why can’t they just transport the cars with us in it?

“Come on,” I tell the others. “We’re going back to the car.” I figure that there must be another way.

We’re back in the car. I drive fast in the opposite direction. There’s a detour sign on my left. I turn the car that way even though my wife wants to stop and think it over. We’re suddenly at our destination. “I knew it,” I crow, pleased.

January 25, 2023 2

The Writing Moment

As he edited, he was reading others’ fiction. More than once, reading a chapter or two (they were small chapters) of This Is How You Lose the Time War prompted him to steal back to his computer and resume his editing. It made up a perfect sequence of hours, reading, writing, editing, drinking coffee, and snacking.

January 24, 2023 2

Tuesday’s Wandering Thought

Tuesday found another tech irritation gaining momentum. Apps and search boxes always tried finishing his typing for him. They were often wrong and usually a distraction. Almost as bad was when he shoved his mouse aside to clear a view of what he was typing, only to have the cursor land on something else, amplifying whatever was in that box, whether he was interested or not. The pages were just messy with annoying ‘helpful’ distractions.

January 24, 2023 2

Xenofloofic

Xenofloofic (floofinition) – Fear and hatred of strange or foreign animals, or animals not normally seen in the area.

In use: “Rising up with a yowling growl, Pixie rushed the window in a fresh xenofloofic display, trying to attack the intruder floof — a small tabby with a white chest and matching mitts that Fran had never seen before — through the glass. Pixie was further infuriated that Fran went out and fed the other cat, gave it water, and checked it over for injuries and identification. The gall of her!”

January 24, 2023 2

January 24, 2023 0

Tuesday’s Theme Music

You might not know unless you have a calendar, but this is Tuesday, 1/24/23. I’m on assignment on twenty-first century Earth where the calendar is sacred, equally important in education, entertainment, and business in most of the world.

I’ve landed again in Ashlandia, a small town, but not quaint. If you remember, it’s located in a river valley in a region officially called the state of Oregon, in a section that is further identified by its geographic location relative to the rest of the state, which is the south. Hence, one staying here for any time will hear ‘southern Oregon’ mentioned. Ashlandia’s population struggles with identity, wanting to have nice things, unable to agree what the nice things are or how much they’re willing to pay and sacrifice to have their nice things. I’ve learned through my many visits here that endless conversations about the same subjects are reprised through months, seasons, and years. Only new home and business construction goes forward even as most worry that they lack the water and infrastructure for new places and many business locations are empty. However, construction is an industry which should not be stopped. Again, as noted in previous reports, they have empty houses and dormitories but argue about what to do about their homeless population.

Ashlandia’s weather is much like its population, muddling on as something somewhere in the middle. It is winter but sunny, cold at night, warming during the day. This day started with temperatures in the high twenties. Sunshine, which came over the mountains at 7:32 in the morning, has warmed the air and earth. With a cloudless blue sky capping the valley, Ashlandia’s temperature is now in the mid-thirties and is expecting to reach the low fifties before the sun leaves the sky at 5:15 this afternoon. (That may be evening; evening and afternoon seem hazy, even misconstrued or misunderstood expressions with haphazard agreement about when afternoon ends and evening begins.)

I heard a song playing on the radio. Radios are in every road vehicle and many people spend time in road vehicles each day. The song I heard was “(You Can Still) Rock in America”. This song was recorded and released in 1983 by a song group who called themselves ‘Night Ranger’, a name which they selected to symbolize what they stand for. Admittedly, the song enthralled my human form. Apparently, my host, a male in in his mid-sixties, knew the song, as he started singing parts of the song. He became especially energetic singing the phrase, “You can still rock in America,” which is also the song’s title. He seemed to become dour, even disappointed when the song concluded. My understanding of this creatures is still weak.

I will partake of ‘coffee’ now. Many, include my host, drinks this to stimulate them each day. It’s one of many stimulants available and used by the town’s population. I’ve attached the song for your sampling. I close with hopes that I’ll not need to stay in this body in Ashlandia for too many more cycles. Your servant, Cheers

January 24, 2023 0

January 23, 2023 0

January 23, 2023 0

Monday’s Theme Music

“Sunshine,” the cat shouted. “Letmeout letmeout letmeout letmeout.”

This was the young one, Papi, the ginger wonder. Old Tucker, the black and white long-furred enigma, scoffed at the young one. Tucker thinks seasonally. He understands winter.

Half an hour later, Papi was at the door, shouting, “Cold. Letmein letmein letmein letmein letmein.” Tucker smirked.

My Ashlandia zone awoke to frost and fog when the sun came on stage at 7:32. The temperature was squatting at 25 degrees F. “Hold my coffee,” the sun said. Zap. Fog gone. Frost vaporized into mist, the temperature jumped up to 27 F. The sun dismissed the criticism finding him. “Earth wasn’t created in a day, you know.”

The sun is expected to take us to 52 F. We never saw the anticipated highs yesterday. Winds and humidity leaned us toward a colder side. Sunset continues its slide toward a later time, and now won’t take place until 5:14 PM.

It’s Monday, 1/23/23. We’re hurtling off of a fresh Lunar New Year to the end of 2023’s first month. Just over eleven months until the new year arrives is left.

I’m feeling good today, meaning a good mood and good energy. Hope that survives meeting reality. A hypertension individual, I track my blood pressure. This morning finds it at 127/73, fairly low for me, even on the meds. Pulse is currently 60. O2 is 98%.

With all that going for me, I began thinking about being alive and kicking. That fired up The Neurons enough that they unleashed Mr. Big with “Alive and Kickin'” from 1991. I was just back from four years of living in Germany. Now stationed in Sunnyvale, CA, I was re-acclimating to American life when the album with this song on it was released. I enjoyed “Alive and Kickin'”, finding it a sort of funky but bluesy rock sound that reminded me of a late sixties sound and played it often. Fun to sit on the porch after work, soaking in the remains of the California day, sipping a beer, music playing, reading a book.

Coffee is up. Get it while it’s hot. Stay positive. Have a super Monday. In fact, make it a super week. On me. Here’s the music. Cheers