And so the heroes arrived on Monday, July 3, 2023, after their exhausting journey through the treacherous months of May and June, coming at last to fabled Ashlandia, where the heroes are few and the animals are many.
Warm out there, and getting warmer. 94 F today, 97 F tomorrow. Which, for my household probably means 97 F today, 100 F tomorrow. A heat advisory warning us is out.
These are floof days. My cats just find a comfortable sleeping zone and stay there until around seven PM. Tucker has shifted himself to the back patio, by the house, on one corner, where a pleasant cool breeze sweeps by every now and again. Papi, more mysteriously, seeks out bedding under bushes on the house’s northern side, in the fence’s shadow. He’ll move to the front patio in late afternoon. But man, let me tell you, those cats are zonked out for that period. Water bowls are in front and back, ’cause I worry. They’ll partake, but they mostly sleep. Had a dream about them, too, but that’s another subject.
I have the Manfred Mann’s Earth Band cover of Bruce Springsteen’s “Blinded by the Light” (1977) running through the morning mental music stream. The cause was politically-oriented conversation with my spouse about the former POTUS, D.J. Trump. His supporters seem blinded by the light, IMO, unable to see any of DJT’s faults and shortcomings, just stumping for him, ignoring facts as they cheer and cheer. Just a strange sight to see. Of course, interviews with Trump supporters are often shocking, but the interviewer often seeks out the craziest of the crazy, painting a skewed portrait of DJT’s supporter. But, come on, when a man with his multiple marriages, children by various women, known sexist attitude, affairs, and stained business history is idolized as a saint, people will wonder, what happened to the supporters’ neurons? Where have they gone? Will they come back?
Stay positive, handle the weather and help others handle it. Remember to hydrate no matter what the heat or lack of in your locale. Coffee — which isn’t really good for staying hydrating but has such a wonderful smell and taste — ha, I sound blinded by the light, don’t I? — is served. Let’s rock.
Floofuency(floofinition) – Human’s ability to communicate with, understand, or empathize with animals. People with floofuency are often known as whisperers, i.e., horse whisperer, dog whisperer, cat whisperer, etc.
In use: “Some thought Mick’s floofuency came from living with many animals during his life, but in truth, his floofuency emerged when he met his first cat, a tabby the family adopted and named Tiger.”
This is it, the final countdown, the last rodeo of the June 2023 season. Today is Friday, June 30, 2023. We blast off into July, 2023 tomorrow. To mark it, the weather directors have punched our temps up into the high nineties. Decent humidity, though, the kind that isn’t felt, but nor is it dry.
Had a wild dream night. Local scamper floofs A & B, commonly known as Tucker and Papi awoke me at 4:46 AM. Tucker did the awakening, tapping my hand with a claw until I began petting him. He wouldn’t be denied. Drifting through half-warm thoughts, I began working on my novel in my head. Finally fell asleep and dreamed, interweaving novel fixin’s with dream fixin’s. Papi then was in, eating — crunch, crunch — which, yeah, great, but then, he cried because he wanted out, and Tucker was a few feet away from the pet door, outside, watching, and Papi just don’t trust Tucker. He finally escaped because Tucker came in through the pet door, leaving the opening on the other side unguarded, letting Papi make a break. I put this altogether by hearing a noise, raising my head, peering, observing, and then lowering my head and trying to return to sleep. Reprised the dream/writing cycle, got interrupted by Tucker vigorously employing his scratching pad, returned to dreaming/writing, and then Tucker came back to request more finger action.
Writing while in bed trying to sleep is never good for me. I get into it, it excites me, and The Neurons won’t back down, and then the muses move in and provoke The Neurons. Then, though, then, the muses began playing Eddie Money, “Think I’m In Love” (1982) in the morning mental music stream. Six thirty came so I got up, opened windows and doors, and welcome a cup of coffee into my life.
Opened openings to combat the coming heat. We have air and it works fine but I’m not an A/C person. Dislike them in stores, restaurants, movie theaters, and the house, Just feels so damn chill to me. Rather sweat a bit. But most Americans seem adverse to sweating. One of those peeves for me.
So, here’s Eddie Money and the band. Let’s raise a toast to June’s final day. My toast has butter and grape jelly. BTW, you know how hard it is to get organic grape jelly these days? Most of ’em are loaded with high-fructose corn syrup, to which, as a progressive, I say, no thanks. Oh, well. Stay as pos as you can. Cheers
Back at the homestead. Something is barking outside. Sounds like a sea lion barking up a storm. Understandable, as he’s in the mountains. Probably asking directions for the coast.
It’s Thursday, Jun 29, 2023. Folks are active outside on this cool 62 F morning in Ashlandia today, where the seniors are busy and the coffee shops are crowded. We’re lookin’ fer 90, 92 F, sumpin’ in that area, today. Protect your skin, and hydrate. It’s a no-cloud zone for now.
Coffee drinking has commenced. The cats have been in and out, tickled by their space, entertained by a jay’s activities, soothed by a breeze, warmed by the sun. The jay is always out there doing things — well, dusk to dawn — sorry for the hyperbole — an epitome of energy. Depressing to watch their busy self. Makes me feel like a sloth in comp.
In sad news, sunrise has backed up to 5:37 AM. A moment of silence for the lost minutes. Next thing you know, it’ll be November and the sunrise won’t be comin’ ’round till after seven.
Has been a fast year. I always think that it’s just me feelin’ so but my wife said to me, “It feels like it’s too soon for the fourth of July.” I agree. Feels like we’re shooting through 2023 like a slick uncooked turkey through buttered fingers.
After I began ruminating about time, The Neurons just took off runnin’ with it. Don’t know ’bout you, but that’s how my neurons do. Then people are asking, “You look like you were thinking about something.” You reply, “I think I might have been but I don’t know what it was.” Anyway, The Neurons reacted with “Time Is Running Out” by Muse (2004). I enjoyed the video back when it was released, just under a year before we moved from California to Oregon. Liked those military folks around the table, oblivious and yet doing things as a synchronized act. After my military career, that felt right to me.
Stay pos, and don’t let the bedbugs bite. Here’s the music. Cheers
TL/DR – went up north to get my REAL ID. An overnight trip. The cats are happy we’re home. Gonna get hot here in the next few days.
A late post to the day. We’ve returned to Ashlandia, where the temperature is 85 F, the time is 7:07 PM, and the people are sweaty. Been away today, heading north on the great driver license quest yesterday. See, I turn 67 next week and license expires. Being over 65 means renewing must be done in person so they can check my eyes, a fifteen second step in the entire process. But let’s go back to the start.
Got the notice a few months ago and began to plan. First thing I learned is that Ashlandia’s DMV office is open three days a week, seven hours on Tuesday and Thursday, and six hours on Wednesday. Second, the line gets long very quickly. People are outside an hour before, waiting for the office to open. Third, there are no appointments available. I tried making one for weeks, again, again, again, again, again.
I checked the Medford DMV, twenty-five miles up the road. No appointments to be found — again, again, again, again, again. Next was Grants Pass, fifty miles away. No appointments. But Canyonville, up Interstate 5, 85 miles away, had appointments. So I will go, I decided. My wife said she would accompany so we decided that we’d go on to Eugene to shop for books, shoes, clothes, and stay overnight. See, a wedding is coming up in a few months. Quite formal, one of my nephews, and we’re gonna be there.
After making the appointment, I told several friends about my efforts. One related that his son just renewed his license. I don’t know why he didn’t do it online, but he went down to the DMV office in Medford, where he resided, four times. Finally arrived one morning half an hour before the office opened. Got in line. Finished four hours later.
I could have done that, I suppose, just keep going to the DMV and getting in line and waiting, rather than racing up the highway. But a road trip is more fun than sitting around for me.
Anyway, one of the other friends mentioned that he’d tried renewing in Ashlandia, and then in Medford, and found the waits exasperating. As he and his wife had to go to Portland, they stopped in Canyonville. He walked into the DMV and had it all done in minutes.
Well, I arrived yesterday at the Canyonville DMV fifteen minutes before my appointment. Walked in. One person working in there. Fifteen people waiting. Everyone had a number. But I had an appointment. Where do you go if you have an appointment? There was no guidance.
The person being served finished. The sole agent called for the next number. I headed toward the counter. A woman leaped up and said, “I have a ten fifty appointment.” Her name was checked, appointment verified. I said, “I have an eleven o’clock appointment.”
The agent said, “Wait on the red carpet. That way, we’ll know you have an appointment.”
Ah, the red carpet, of course! The three by three foot red carpet. How could I have not known that? That’s how her friendly but snarky tone sounded.
A little after eleven, a second agent snuck into the work area and called the next number. I said, “Excuse me, but I’m standing on the red carpet!”
Quickly the agent bowed. “Please forgive me and come forward.”
No, just in my imagination. Actually, I just told the new agent what I had an eleven o’clock appointment. She asked me my name and we began. It was a quick ordeal, barely long enough to call it an ordeal. Funniest part was that I wear glasses to drive but forgot to put them on when I did the eye exam. “Perfect,” the agent said. “Do you wear contacts?”
“No, I just forgot to wear my glasses.”
Supposed to get hot tomorrow, with sunshine exploding with heat and dry, calm air moving it, the low nineties are anticipated. Gonna be that way, getting warmer, for a few weeks, not just in Ashlandia, but in southwestern Oregon.
Returning today, the cats were happy to see us. Papi was relieved to be allowed back outside. Although we have a pet door installed, Tucker likes sleeping in front of it, blocking Papi’s progress and giving him stress and anxiety. So, pet door were closed, and the cats were locked in the house together with food and water for about thirty hours. Blocked windows provided them with fresh air and kept the place cool.
Today’s music came about after we watched Taylor Mac’s 24-Decade History of Music last night. It’s amazing, incredibly creative, fascinating in so many ways, and a showcase of impressive talents by multiple individuals. I surfed the net for more info about it this morning. I ended up coming a “Better Together” with Jack Johnson being done as part of Song Around the World/Playing for Change. I offer it up to you.
Stay strong, be cool, and continued to have brightly positive, as you can, when you can. Here’s the music.
Floofcological(floofinition) – Mental or emotional state of a person or animal arising from or related to thoughts or worries about animals, or observations about animals.
In use: “Her floofcological state always became anxiety-frazzled when she was forced to go away on visits and not be with her floof friends, although the ability to see and talk to them via a security system helped restore her calm each night.”
63 F in the outdoors with a tincture of cool mountain air offsetting the morning sun’s greeting. “Perfect,” the cats agree. They’re looking forward to the possible high in the low to mid 80s F.
It’s Monday, June 26, 2023, in Ashlandia, where the cougars and bears roam the streets and tourists roam the restaurants. Perusing the news, there’s hope for a cancer treatment that shrinks tumors, deaths in Pakistan from lightning, North Korea keeping up its traditional war of words with the US, cocaine market is booming, tornadoes in the east, train hauling hazardous materials derailed — yes, another — and more deaths, more deaths, more deaths. Not much on Ukraine and Russia. Nothing on Trump. Probably too early in the day. Race results about a NASCAR offering named after a corporation which bought the rights provides filler,
Stone Temple Pilots, J. Cash, Bush, and the Stones have songs sharing space in my morning mental music stream, they being, “Creep”, “Folsom Prison Blues”, “Machinehead”, and “Start Me Up”. Why them was the leading question in my interrogation of The Neurons to learn more. They took the fifth. No comment all the way.
After all that, I went with “When the Whip Comes Down” by the Rolling Stones, a song featured in the documentary about them last night when they focused on Ronnie Wood. Written and released in 1978 (yeah, looked it up), the song is about a gay man and how he’s treated. I enjoy watching Mick playing gee-tar on the video.
May I suggest you stay positive and keep my moving forward? I’m moving toward a cup of coffee. Let’s get it cracking. Time waits for no one.
FAIS(floofinition) – Internet slang which is shorthand for ‘Floof-Activity Interrupted Sleep’, an expression used to convey why people are tired or did not receive a good night of rest.
In use: ‘Despite a hefty cup of caffeinated latte, Barb kept yawning, finally apologizing, explaining, “FAIS. My puppy and cat decided to play tag at three AM, and then a bear started going through people’s trashcans, which made every dog in a square mile join the barking.”‘
Summer is continuing its lo-key approach to June, or is it the other way around? It’s 68 F now in Ashlandia, where the animals are wild and the drivers are crazy, to which the cats say nothing because they’re busy strolling, washing, napping, just enjoying what’s come. Good philosophy.
Today is Sunday, June 25, 2023. We’re expecting a lofty temp of 84 F to descend on Ashlandia before the sun calls it a day. Probably have thunderstorms. Had some more yesterday, followed by rain last night. This was after Alexa informed there would be no rain. Yesterday she warned me that it would probably rain between 6 and 7 PM today. Now she’s denying she ever said. Calls to mind some politicians. Show them a video of them saying what you claim and they sit there shaking their head, denying they said it, and try to shift the subject. Greasy monkeys.
I checked ‘On this day in history’ on Bing to see what happened. The second entry was about June 24, 2023. The next search result brought up a result May 12, ‘the aftermath’. But fourth, from Encyclopedia Britannica, was Michael Jackson’s death, and Farah Fawcett’s passing. He was 50 and she was 62. The Korean Way also started on this day in 1950, just five years after World War II ended. Sort of reminds me of Russia attacking Ukraine.
I have “Call Me The Breeze” by JJ Cale in the morning mental music stream. Believe it or not, but that came about after I opened the back door and felt the morning the breeze. “What a nice breeze,” I told the cats. “You guys feel it?” Neither cat replied, but The Neurons had awakened from their walking nap and said, “Playing ‘Call Me the Breeze’ by JJ Cale.” The song is relaxed, fine fare for a fair morning. Others have covered it and had hits with it, but I enjoy Cale’s original from 1972.
Stay pos, and be sure you test the water before you just go leaping in there. Slow down and smell the coffee. Think I might put that on a bumper sticker.
Michael Seidel, writer 