I’d been working. In the military, it seemed like from clues, but it was never clearly presented. Staying in some manner of mixed work, play, sleep compound. Very modern. Enormously wide hallways. Well lit.
I’d been going to and fro, doing work and receiving instructions, sometimes passing guidance along, when suddenly, I was asleep. Yep, asleep in my dream. And I couldn’t wake up. And I knew this. I new that I wanted and needed to wake up. But my head was heavy with exhaustion and my eyes felt glued shut.
Someone came by and spoke with me. Don’t know what they said. I replied, “I need to wake up but I can’t. I must get up.”
Somehow, I did manage to get up. “Water,” I told myself. “Drink some water. That will help.”
Feeling my way about, I came to a sink and turned on the water. Using my hand to catch water, I guzzled a bit.
It wasn’t working. “Put water on your face,” I told myself. “Splash your eyes.”
Right; yes. That worked enough that at last I could open my eyes. “Food and coffee will help,” I said to myself. “Go find some.”
Dream end. Early sunlight was petering in around the closed blinds. The dream felt so real that I went into the kitchen and drank a glass of water and then went to a mirror to see if my eyes were open. Very strange.
I enjoy being in the coffee shop and witnessing people encountering one another. They’re often so pleased, excited, or happy to meet. Short hugs are exchanged, and there’s often smiles and laughter.
Just a tonic for my spirits when I’m exposed to such joy.
Autumn continues it new reign of weather, pale blue sky, bold but late sunshine, goldenish green trees. Upta 56 F now, with 80 F on the horizon. 80 F makes a fine temperature for Ashlandia. If you ever vote for the temp for this place, I urge vote 80.
Told my wife yesterday after we got some things done, “You know, as I look back on October, I’m impressed with how much we got done.” Cuz this is Wednesday, October 2, 2024.
I enjoy watching Papi. Papi is the ginger blade component of our felinious duo. Younger. Very outdoorsy. Coming in the back door, he avoids stepping on the mat. Like it’s lava. Then inside, he circles around the outside of the sofa, to the room’s far side, like he’s a scout in enemy territory. Cuts back in to the rug under the dining table. Like it’s a safe base. Talks to me from there, tail up, back arched, whiskers brimming. I make inquiries about his appetite and willingness to eat. Tail still standing like a sundial, he races alongside as I head for food prep. Gives me some vocal encouragement. Then sits. Patient. Waiting for the food. Final burp of pleased noise as his bowl lands. Sitting, body adjustments, because he must be postured just so, it’s a thing of his, he commences.
Brother-in-law’s mother passed away. 92. COVID pneumonia. She, like all of her children, including BIL, are Trump supporters. But her grandchildren are not. Sorry for the loss, etc, but my emotional sea churns with conflicting currents.
I went out with the cats and enjoyed the still fresh air. They groomed and tended to sounds while I just did breathing exercises and reflected. For some reason that only The Neurons know, Tom Petty ripped into “You Wreck Me” from 1995 in the morning mental music stream (Trademark wrecked). Could be simple association. (Ya think?) October 1974, I entered the military, October, 1995, I dished the retirement papers to the service. This song is from ’95. So. Not saying the military wrecked me. Not at all.
Stay positive and lean forward and vote blue next month. Coffee and I already rendezvoused on familiar grounds. Here’s the music, and away we go.
October 1, 2024. Tuesday. Officially time for pumpkins in the U.S. Or so it was when I was an effen grasshopper. Didn’t have all those fancy pumpkin drinks and confections bursting onto the scene. We had pumpkin patches and pumpkin pies. Simpler sales and marketing era.
I remember tasting my first pumpkin spice latte at Starbucks. Living in Califonia, retired from the military. Family visiting circa 2003. Oddly chilly Saturday afternoon. Drove ‘over the hill’ as it was called from Half Moon Bay to visit the San Jose Institute of Technology. Afterward, we were flagging. Coffee and some sitting was needed. Hey, a Starbucks. Hey, I heard about those pumpkin spiced latte. Let’s try those. Sugar, whipped cream, coffee, pumpkin? Why not.
It was okay. Didn’t convert me or anything but rejuvenated my spring for a few hours.
Autumn is hanging all over us this morning. Long morning shadows from the rising sun spill across the land, highlighting golden and yellow leaves blazing in sunlight. We lack trees with oranges, reds, and scarlets in our immediate. Kind of a bummer. Soon as you descend the short hill to the boulevard, they’re abundant. Just not up here. I’m tryin’ not to be personally insulted over it.
55 F now and sunny, expect a high of 86 F. Fire warning is in effect. Dry conditions and warm air deliver the chance that any fire starting can spread fast. Take heed. It’s due to end later this morning.
Tough watching and reading news coverage of Hurricane Helene’s destruction. Flash floods and sudden floods and storm surges, heavy winds and rains. Death and catastrophe mark the spots. Sickening and disheartening for the people of all those states and areas struck. Individual stories arise of bravery, hopelessness, and tragedy. Hope your friends and family are okay, wherever they are. The strength of a nation and a people is that we will respond to help them recover and rebuild however we can.
With weather on my mind, it’s little wonder that The Neurons responded by songs about hurricanes, lightning and storms. While they played in the morning mental music stream (Trademark underwater), I sought they out on my usual, Youtube. Lo’, the expired licensing deal between YouTube and SESAC makes some songs unavailable. Hope that resolves soon. Fortunately for my Neurons, there’s a plethora of storm songs in mind to look for. I ended up with AC/DC and “Thunderstruck” from 1990.
Keep on being strong, register, and vote blue. Coffee and I have begun our daily agreement. I talk nice about it and it helps me adult. Here’s the music. Cheers
Proceeded through the morning essentials. Complained to Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) about the stench of some of his essential. Both floofs begged release from the house to the rear yard. I headed out with them.
September 30. 2024. Monday. Cold autumn morning. Even the rising solar orb gave a little shiver. Cats sought sunshine arrangements for grooming. I launched back into the house, thinking, cold now but will cap at the mid to upper 80s F today. No clouds effing with today’s blue, either.
This is it. September’s last shout. Like other months this year, September of this year will be able to brag to historians about disasters, politics, and violence. History will give it a glance and reply, more of the same but intensifying. Probably ask, “Couldn’t the people see the direction they were heading? Did they not give a fuck to try to change it?” We’ll defensively huddle together and reply, “Well, it’s complicated.” If MAGAs and the GOP ever emerge from their holes of irresponsibility and weirdness and wash the cult off, will they be able to understand how they contributed?
The Neurons offer a slice of song from the South Pacific musical: “Gonna wash that cult right out of my hair and send it on its way. Get the picture?” I thank them for the mild snicker they induce.
Moving on to music, thoughts about waiting and patience impell The Neurons to move on from “Bali Hair” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark sinking) because they kept on going with South Pacific tunes (once they’re on something) to a 2003 Audioslave song. The melancholy rock song, “Like A Stone”, is about waiting for the afterlife, patiently at that, where they’ll hope to be reconnected with someone. Doesn’t purely translate to today’s situation ‘cept for that idea of patiently waiting for some of this mess of 2024 to clear up, patiently waiting, as it’s sung, like a stone.
Be positive, patient, and strong. Test neggy and lean forward. Vote blue. Coffee has washed down the breakfast components. Here’s the music part of the post. Cheers
Thinking about my coffee evolution today in honor of National Coffee Day.
I began drinking coffee when I was around twelve. Maxwell House. *shudder*. Only drank a cup at a friend’s house once in a while, loaded with sugar and cream. I stopped doing that before I was fifteen and didn’t resume drinking coffee until after I was twenty. Leaving the military after my first enlistment was up, I bought a restaurant and ran it while going to college, so I drank coffee, but not much. I remained indifferent to it.
I re-entered the military. Working night shifts, I would nuke the leftover cold coffee from the huge office urn and doctor it with sugar. Nasty stuff.
Wasn’t until my NCOIC, Bob Totten, and my buddy, Jeff, at Kadena AB, Okinawa, Japan, that I really became a coffee drinker. I was working as a back-office warrior by then as the Command Post training NCO. Bob would invite Jeff and me to informal staff meetings at the Base Exchange cafeteria upstairs. Even then, I didn’t think much of coffee. But I was going to school and evolved into drinking it at home as I geared up for evening classes.
Then I discovered ‘good’ coffee. I found that I like French and Italian roasts best. I didn’t like cream or sugar in my coffee. I bought my beans and ground them myself. I only made sufficient coffee for my needs and only drink fresh coffee.
Of course, by then, I couldn’t stand our military office coffee. Too weak and American for me.
At subsequent assignments, I would take over our office ‘coffee fund’. Darker roasts, better coffee markers, and better brands were my requirements. I levied that on the rest. My offices in Germany and California became known as a good place to get decent coffee.
Field conditions were horrible for coffee, of course. Weren’t no good brands out there. Gird my loins and quaff the evil brews available to fight the cold off or endure the heat. Bad coffee, bad food, bad sleeping arrangements, and nasty latrines – holes in plywood in tents.
Retiring from the Air Force, it was the same sort of thing as I went to work for civilians. Except I ended up working with an engineer, Janet, who liked yet stronger coffee. She used to complain that my coffee was too weak! I was appalled. By then, I was in the SF Bay Area, purchasing Peet’s coffee and bringing it in, making my own pot. Of course, people other than Janet liked my coffee, so there were often several brews going besides decaf.
Eventually, I was working for IBM, but remote, working from home. My wife and I saw a Keurig at Costco and purchased it. For a while, I continued making my coffee using beans, a grinder, and a drip style coffee maker as I didn’t like any of the pods that I tried. But then I tried the Costco SF Bay French roast pod.
That worked, and that’s where I’m at now, drinking that at home in the morning. When I was going out to write at The Beanery for several years, it was a different story. I drank a nonfat double Mexican mocha for my writing. Alas, The Beanery went away. Now, I order Americanos wherever I go. I like espressos but they’re consumed too fast. The Americano works.
And that’s my coffee tale. It’s been a grind. Happy Coffee Day.
Autumn covered us this morning with a familiar old comforter. Sunshine on changing leaves, cloudy, hazy blue sky, crisp weather ranging from the upper forties (Fahrenheit) at night to today’s high in the low to mid 70s.
Today is Sunday, September 29, 2024.
It’s National Coffee Day in the United States! Like many holidays, its provenance is a little iffy. Coffee is a staple in the United States. Lot of coffee drinkers like me swear by a daily brew or two. The only thing I drink more than coffee is water, and the only drink I enjoy more than coffee is beer. But coffee has less calories and is fat free! Woo hoo! While it has some potential benefits, it comes with potential risks. IMO, the coffee person relationship is more individualized. Either your body works well with coffee or it doesn’t. Think I’ll celebrate as I do every other day, with a cuppa coffee.
BTW, since there’s a coffee-inspired holiday, there are coffee-inspired deals available. USA Today provides a list.
Yeah, baby, year, real debate, not vibes. Real debate as Trump and his surrogate, J.D. Vance, spread acknowledged lies about Haitians eating pets in Ohio. Let’s debate that, Roberts.
Will Trump debate the ‘stolen election’ claims he continues to make, even after admitting that he lost the election? The stolen election claims that were thrown out of court over and over again? The efforts to overturn the election that he’s been indicted for?
Let’s have a debate over Trump’s healthcare plan. The one he installed when he was POTUS. *Chortle – yeah, that didn’t happen.* Vaporware has more substance than Trump’s current ‘concept of a plan’.
Let’s debate Trump’s declaration that he’d protect women after the fucking disaster of the Trump-stacked Dobbs decision and its afterbirth on women, their rights, their bodies, and their health. You know, the women who he refers to as ‘bimbos’. The ones he’d grab by the pussy, and Jean Carroll.
Donald Trump: You know and I moved on her actually. You know she was down on Palm Beach.
Unknown: She used to be great. She’s still very beautiful.
Trump: I moved on her and I failed. I’ll admit it. I did try and f*** her. She was married.
What respect he shows! Such a protector! (Yes, that last was late-morning, coffee-fueled snark.)
Yes, let’s have a debate between Trump and Vice President Harris, Roberts! Oh, we can’t because Trump refuses to debate Harris again because she trounced him the last time so badly that Trump’s feelings remain hurt.
Moving on.
Today’s music was inspired by another’s blog post. Tom MacInnes mentioned April Wine in his fabulous series about rock music. I’ve only featured April Wine here once, six years ago. But after today’s post, The Neurons were stirred to drop “Roller” from 1979 into the morning mental music stream (Trademark limited). I had a Canadian friend serving in the U.S. Air Force with me on Okinawa. April Wine was one of his basic “we’re going to play their music” groups. If you were at his house listening to music, you would hear April Wine sooner or later.
Funny, but thinking on that, several such connections exist through my years of friendships. With Jeff, it was Culture Club. Randy could be depended on to bring out Van Halen, although Boston also came out at his place. Rich in Germany was a Chris Rea advocate while Bobby was apt to crank up Cream. Gene, being more old school, frequently invoked the Grateful Dead. Robert was always bringing in Rush. Such a group of characters. Of course, I was likely to turn up a piece out of Pink Floyd’s catalog.
Stay positive, test negative, remain strong, and lean forward. While you’re at it, could you also vote blue in 2024.
Michael Seidel, writer 