If you can and you wish, please consider donating to one of the relief funds helping survivors in Ukraine, such as the World Central Kitchen. Cheers
Tuesday’s Theme Music
The sun strode into Tuesday at 6:47 AM with bright, bold steps that dazzled our retinas. Warmth is still trickling in, as we’re at 37 F right now, but hope to strike the fifties. A snowstorm hit the higher elevations during the last several days. You had to be at 5,000 feet to feel it, so we’re a few thousand feet too low. We hope it’ll add to the miserly snowpack, but dire predictions have already emerged for this year. Many meteorologists suggest it would take years of big storms to end the drought and replenish our lakes and cisterns.
The cost of water is skyrocketing. Looks like the city golf course can no longer afford water. Of larger concerns are the many small farms that dot our valley and provide us with local produce. The city and area are on top of this, building many more low-income units. These typically start in the 300K range and climb. Nothing stops the wealthy from buying them and renting them out, though. Some shout, “Low -income housing is what we need, look at the homeless here.” Don’t know where they think the homeless are going to acquire the money for a mortgage. Others say, we don’t need more housing, we don’t have the water. But the houses keep going up.
Today is April the fifth, 2022, a day pretty similar to many others. Sunset will be at 7:41 PM.
The neurons have been busy streaming several different songs in the morning mental music stream. They also added an old jingle: “To get right to the heart of the matter, where there’s smoke, where there’s smoke, where there’s smoke. Where there’s smoke, there’s danger of heart and lung disease.” I don’t know why the little monkeys played that for me.
Anyway, eventually they unearthed John Mellencamp’s 1983 song, “Little Pink Houses”, a song more in accordance with what was actually passing for thought in my head.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask if you need to, get the vax as, when, if needed, etc. Stay informed and think critically. Here’s the music. I’m going to go caffeinate some neurons. See if that settles them down a little. Cheers
Floofscience
Floofscience (floofinition) – Animal anticipation of the course of events.
In use: “Keri’s pets knew with amazing floofscience when she was going for something to eat, rising wherever they were and meeting her in the kitchen in perfect synfloofnicity.”
A Chaotic Dream
It began with me as a young man. I came into a situation where the atmosphere buzzed with chaos. We were outside. People were everywhere. It seemed like they were all carrying something and were on the run. I looked for signs about where to go: none. I tried talking to people, but all were rushing around like a children on a playground sugar high.
After some bit of this, I managed to see a door and went through it. In there was the information I sought about my role. I was given a tall stack of thick folders. Most were manila folders, but some were red, green, and blue. I started shuffling through them, flipping through pages, assimilating information.
I was to be given a presentation to prepare so that a decision could be made about something, but there was confusion about who was receiving the information and what outcome was desired. I was smiling as I went through the info. I was familiar with all of it. Within a short time, I’d tossed all the folders except two aside. One was a plain manila folder; the other was red with a red and white cover on it, with large block letters in red: 5774.
The 5774 information wasn’t needed for the moment, I decided. That would be used later. First, clean up the presentation. Make it. Get the decision. Then, after that, do the 5774 stuff.
Okay. With that clarified for myself, I pursued that course. A decision was made.
Around me was instantly calmer and more relaxed. People quit rushing. They smiled at one another and started talking.
Okay, good. I went to a car for a rest. Others were heading to a large celebration. I planned to join them but first needed rest.
Others came by to follow up on the decision. I was groggy with sleep and tried explaining to them that the information they wanted was in the 5774 folder. Just find it, and the messages and information inside that, and they’d be fine.
They went off. A young woman in a green 1950s era Chevy pickup truck picked me up and took me to the celebration. The grounds were rutted with mud, but it was like a huge carnival. After I was given some food, I discovered that I was entered in a competition there. Contestants were taken to a center stage. Questions were put up on a screen for them to answer. They were given ten questions. Whoever was most correct most often won.
I watched the other contestants as they were asked questions and failed and was immediately eager for my turn. I knew I was going to ace this thing because the questions were all from the 5774 folder. I knew it intimately.
My turn finally came. Well, in theory. An equipment malfunction put a halt to the proceedings. The dream ended with me in the green pickup, grinning, eager for my turn, certain that I was going to win.
Monday’s Theme Music
Another milestone reached, because it’s another ‘t’ day. Yes, it’s today, April 4, 2022, a Monday, a new start to a new week, if you’re one of those who think of Monday as the first day of the week. I do, at least for today.
It’s rainy and chilly outside. Poured hard earlier, drumming on the roof and the vents, transporting us to a rock concert drum solo. Nice being inside, safe and warm, listening to the rain. I wish everyone in the world had such simple luxury, shelter, and security.
The theoretical sunrise, theoretical because the clouds were saying, “Nope, not this morning, no sunshine for you, Ashland,” was at 6:49 this morning while sunset, if we see it, will be at 7:40 PM. It’s now 42 degrees F. We might see 50 today.
Today’s song comes out of reflections for the cat who passed away last month. I miss him and his energy still fills the house while his memory is sharp in our minds, but, you know, he was enduring heavy pain and discomfort by the end. You know how it is; you miss them but you’re happy they’re free of their disease’s chains. You promise to meet up again sometime, somewhere, and wonder, can that be true? Is that possible?
So, it’s mixed emotions with which his passing is viewed. Hearing that, the sleepy neurons were like, “What? Mixed Emotions. Rolling Stones. 1989. Here we go.” I answered, no, no, I wasn’t asking for that to be played.
Well, here we are. The neurons won.
The song has a nice guitar-driven throwback for the Stones. It could easily be from the late sixties or early seventies instead of the late eighties. They were, are, an enduring band.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, etc. We’ve made plans for our next booster this week. Take care of yourself. Now, the neurons are demanded they be paid in coffee for their work, so I’m a mission to the kitchen. Here’s the tune. Cheers
Floofidel
Floofidel (floofinition) – One who is not an animal or who opposes animals or animal rights.
In use: “Many floofidels believe animals are soulless, that they don’t feel emotions, or, because they’re not ‘man’, or human, do not deserve the same rights as humans. Fortunately, the ranks of floofidels are shrinking. Yet, the smart floof should be aware that they’re still out there.” From Training A Human, A Guide for Young Floofs
The Joseph Cotten Dream
Yes, it was another military dream, this one featuring a chief master sergeant (E9) named Cotten who looked just like the late actor, Joseph Cotten.
It started with recovery from military action where several of my people had been killed. I was angry about it because I felt that a planning fuckup was to blame. We were in retreat and recovery mode, filling up a large hangar at night. As people sat in folding mental chairs, some young officer came in shouting about it being fine, not to worry, everything went well. His announcement infuriated me. I snapped, “It’s not fucking fine, sir, it’s not fine when some of my people are dead.”
He responded by circling around me, pointing a finger and demanding to know what I said as everyone else stopped to watch and listen. I repeated it all. Still walking and pointing a finger at me, he warned, “You better check your attitude, the general won’t like that.”
I replied, “I don’t give a shit what the general likes, sir.”
Chief Cotten came over to calm me and the rest down. Yeah, soothing words and a smarmy attitude were employed, which I wasn’t in the mood to swallow. He suggested we have a cuppa coffee and a chat, verifying my name, then trying to flatter me into being more reasonable, telling me, “I’ve heard of you, you have a big rep. Everyone is expecting a lot from you.” I walked away from him, pissing him off, but I was beyond caring.
In a dream shift, I was sitting at a table when several young officers came in, offering me burgers. The burgers were leftovers from somewhere, but they thought I probably hadn’t eaten and would like them. I was pleased and grateful they thought of me and ate the big ol’ burgers with a grin, enjoying every bite.
Another dream shift found us preparing for an exercise. I was late in arriving but queued up in the long, single-file line. Chief Cotten joined me, asking me how I was doing, giving me a cuppa coffee to drink while I waited my turn. Like everyone else, I was in my woodland camoes, but I realize everyone else seemed to have mobility bags and helmets. I had neither. Getting rid of the coffee and leaving the line, I went around asking questions about what was going on and why I wasn’t given a mob bag. No one could answer but another senior NCO suggested that I just take what I needed.
Still cranky, I found a mob bag but when I opened it, there was a thin pink bedspread inside, like the one that used to be on my mother’s guest bed. What the fuck, I thought, which was where the dream ended.
