Saturday’s Theme Music

I witnessed sunrise in Pittsburgh, PA, from an Airbus window as it landed at Pittsburgh International Airport. Pittsburgh sunrise was at 6:56 and I was arriving at 6:32. 68 C in Pittsburgh then, just like home, but much more humid. Sunset came at 7:38. Back home, we hit 101 F but Pittsburgh’s weather delivered a friendlier 74 F.

Today is Saturday, September 10, 2022. Mom is doing much better, a steep relief. Still in the hospital but matters are getting under control, and she might be released in a week. Depends on what happens with the fluid in her heart and her pacemaker.

Back in my home zone. Left it in 1972 but have consistently returned to see Mom and the sisters. But man is my body’s personal clock running awry. Ate breakfast at the hospital at 8:30, visited with Mom and family until 11:30, back to Mom and a nap for two hours. Lunch at 4 PM, back to the hospital to visit with Mom and then home again at 6:30. Call to wife to update her, then unplanned crash until 8:30. Now here I sit, posting the theme music.

Employing their sense of humor, The Neurons cranked up Dr. John with “Right Place, Wrong Time” from 1973. Oh, ha, ha, ha, hilarious, you neurons. Interspersed with all that were two quite bizarre dreams.

So here is the music. You be positive and test negative. Wear a mask and have a good one. Coffee? Now? Really? No, I think it’s too late. I might go for a piece of that triple chocolate cake in the kitchen, though. Anyone up for some cake?

Cheers

The Writing Moment

The muses insist, “Write, write.” They follow their own order and structure, indifferent to what’s happening in his life or the real world. They don’t care what goes on there. They are there to make him write, no matter how his mind and emotions teeter with the events overtaking his life.

Friday’s Theme Music

It’s up to 59 F outside. But the buttery morning sunshine delivered at 6:44 is now smoked over. Our lovely sky has rocketed relatively healthy lime green 48 on the air quality scale to 197. The high temperature today will be 103 F. Sunset, 7:31 PM.

Today is Friday, September 9, 2022. I’m waiting to begin my travel home. Tucker volunteered to inspect the bag and floofervise the process. On the other end of phones and texts, my youngest sister is reporting on Mom. Hospitalized for COVID complications and an appendix first thought ruptured but then found perforated, Mom has a lot of issues. A pacemaker was installed a few years ago. A diet of Kools and Salem cigarettes has left her with COPD and emphysema. The physicians discovered that she punctured one of her lung’s lobes. She’s also retaining fluid. Her O2 levels keep dropping to 70 or lower. Without much surprise to me, this 87-year-old woman has declared, “Enough. I’m tired. I’m done.”

My older sister has just arrived there from Atlanta. Another sister can’t attend because she’s COVID positive. The fourth sister is on her way back to the hospital. So is Mom’s partner. I won’t get there until tomorrow. The time, drama, and decisions give me a lot to think about.

The Neurons have a song by The Who circulating in the morning mental music stream. Released in 1971, “Gettin’ in Tune” has often been a standby song for me when I’m reflecting on choices and getting ready to travel. I understand why The Neurons have posted it.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, etc. I’ve had coffee. Might have more. Here is the music. Hope your Friday is a good one.

Cheers

Thursday’s Wandering Thought

As news about his mother’s declining condition was received, he thought for a while and then, teary-eyed, told her with his mind across time and space, “Well, Mom, I’m good with whatever you decide to do. You’ve known pain and sickness for so many years. If you decide you’re done, I understand.”

She would be missed, though. Strong, intelligent, and vital, she was his favorite mother. Probably always would be.

Floofatonic

Floofatonic (floofinition) – An animal’s marked lack of movement, activity, or expression.

In use: “Sleeping in shade on a day hot enough to blister paint, the floofs were admirably floofatonic. Chris wished he could get as floofatonic as them.”

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