Sitting in the coffee shop, I sometimes take a break to pay attention to the people waiting for their coffee. Some are jittery, constant movement. Like they’ve already ingested a significant amount of caffeine, buzzy as little kids on a sugar high.
Then we have the impatient customer. Frequently tapping a foot, normally with hands in pockets or arms crossed, they look like they’re sighing over the unfairness of having to wait so darn long for their drink. Many of these will turn to their cell for comfort, chatting, texting, reading stuff, watching videos.
Others waiting for coffee assume a cool Steve McQueen demeanor, leaning back with mild indifference. The coffee will come and nothing they do will hurry it, so why bother? It’s not surprising to see some of them casually check cell phones, oozing as they do.
Fourth are those with the coffee stare. Stiff as a bronze statue, usually with their arms crossed, they posture right up against the counter’s edge, eyes opened wide, unblinking, waiting for their order. As drinks are made, you can almost hear their neurons shouting, “Is that mine? Is that mine?”
Finally, we have the laissez coffee set. Ordering, they find a table or sit until their order is called out.
Thursday, May 16, 2024, has landed on us. It’s mid-May, and we’re slipping, sliding, gliding toward mid-2024. Then we’ll slip, slide, glide to the 2024 elections and race into holiday season in America. I expect Black Friday advertising to kick in any day.
Though we’re doing a spring and summer shuffle, we have pleasant weather serenading us. The sun did a stirring dawn solo. Sunlight lasered in like an attack from Emperor Ming. Clouds spy from the horizons. It’s 67 now with 77 F on the way. Thunderstorms are also expected. What I found watching the weather on TV last night is that these small cells are populating the Pittsburgh metro area. Rain gets limited to those little doughnuts. In our part of the Churchill Valley, we blinked and missed the rain. Evidence was left behind as small drops on the brown wooden porch rails.
The Mom Help Quest continues. She’s moved the goals on us. We — my sisters and I — believe she needs help getting out of bed and dressing. Mom vehemently disagrees. Sure, it takes hours, and exhausts her, but that doesn’t mean she needs help.
No, she just wants a person to come in once a week to clean, especially the bathrooms. That’s all. And her beau backed her, so my sisters and I backed off. I’ve told Mom I think she’s wrong. Didn’t help any but I thought it important to state my position and get it on record.
My sisters are more frustrated about this than me. They point out that Mom tends to hold off action until things reach a crisis. Then an emergency is declared, and everyone is expected to drop everything an run to help Mom. They’re weary of the circus.
I understand Mom’s stand. This steady decline and shrinking of her independence affects her self-image. She’d like to stay in denial about what’s happening. Of course, she’ll deny that, as well. There’s also probably a piece about feeling like a burden and not wanting to be a burden to others. She doesn’t see with our eyes, and can’t or won’t grasp that by refusing greater help, she makes herself a greater burden.
That’s life in ‘Merica, I guess.
One piece of good news is that her doctor’s office has scheduled an appointment to discuss Mom’s request for a hospital bed. I’ve become leery of getting it after Mom said last night that she didn’t think it was going to make much difference. Told me she takes a sleeping pill and sleeps six to eight hours every night. But she spends the day complaining about how tired she is and how she wants to nap.
Other worries and concerns outside of familia permeate my circle of being, like damaging storms elsewhere, the Canadian wildfires, the Trump Trial for falsifying document, the held breath for what the SCOTUS will say about Trump’s immunity, what actions states are taking to sabotage voter rights, the other Trump trials, inflation concerns, climate change activities, and the upcoming 2024 election.
There’s also a new sideshow, the Trump-Biden debate. I think Trump is a fool for accepting but I’m delighted that he did. I think Trump has a sense that he’s losing his mojo so he wants to be front and center. I believe Trump is in more denial about his condition and situation than Mom.
This debate is a beauty pageant. Trump thinks he’ll win it by looking better than Biden — younger, even though he’s just three years behind President Biden — and more articulate and knowledgeable. Those of us outside of Trump’s MAGA influence watching Biden give speeches know that his gaffes are much less than Trump’s crazy talk. I believe President Biden will come off as much more impressive than Trump. Fingers crossed that this will come to be.
Okay, today’s music in the morning mental music stream (Trademark warming) is “Just Like Paradise” by Diamond Dave — David Lee Roth. The 1987 song was selected by Los Neurons by a combo of me thinking about returning home to Ashlandia, where the weather is hotter and the cats are sweet, and a mockery of the situation in America.
The latter — the mockery of America — is delivered by the GOP’s continuing efforts to destroy America by governing as little as possible, remaining as an obstacle to progress, and even tearing down things, such as DeJoy’s destruction of an efficient postal system.
Working on the ridiculous idea that more is better, Postmaster Louis Dejoy has led an effort to consolidate and reduce postal operations, especially in rural areas. He’s slashed trucks and personnel and closed operations. Places like southern Oregon, where I reside, has suffered with continuing mail delays. Our local post offices are shuttering or severely limited in offered services. Customer complaints have soared. Elected officials in Washington, D.C., on both sides of the aisle are demanding answers from DeJoy, and he’s often just blowing them off.
Well, here comes the darkening clouds. I’m already riding the coffee rain, so I’ll wish you a good Thursday and be off. Remember, stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Here’s the music. Gotta admit, it’s tres Van Halen pop rock, even though it’s not Van Halen. Cheers
It’s a flat Mickey Mouse circuit. Enter from the main road. Then into the quick left right complex. Hard 90 follows. Accelerate up the short side straight.
Then a fast lefthand sweeper into to the end of the line. Creep up, order, and shoot back out into traffic.
Or, the less used option. wheel around and rush into a parking slot. Park, jump out. Fast walk to the door. Get inside and then —
Options: pick up order at the counter and hustle back out. Or order at the counter. Stand back, cross arms and wait, hip thrust out, staring as they prepare your order. Tap foot as needed.
Rare option: enter, order, sit. Pull out ‘puter. Do typy/clicky things.
Mood: Bureausilized (when activities are rendered useless by bureaucracy and become fossilized)
Good morrow, gentle folk and fellow coffee guzzlers. Today is Tuesday, May 14, 2024.
For the record, we’re fully overcast in Penn Hills, PA. It’s comfortable out, 61 F, with rain and thunderstorms chugging our way. They’re scheduled to arrive noonish. Today’s high will stroke out at 72 F.
Trump on Trial (the hush money/business fraud business) holds my family enthralled. Details are reiterated and explored. They’re also enjoying Trump’s latest tax issues, whereby he seems to be on the hook for $100,000,000 in taxes.
But doubt has been expressed that anything significant will emerge from either of these matters. Trump is white, male, and wealth, even if he may not be as wealthy as he claims. He’s also an ex-POTUS and the woeful GOP’s current candidate. Looking at the crime and punishment Venn diagram, significant punishment and karma don’t seem likely. The lesson reinforced for most of us, I think, is that the U.S. has a tiered justice system that mocks ‘and justice for all’.
The Hunt for Mom’s Caregiver goes miserably. All agencies contacted have suggested other agencies to contact. It’s a quagmire of links and promises, but little of substance is ever found. Others have found caregivers, so it is possible. Just need to moving out of expectations that any government agency will be useful.
Likewise, there’s no movement on Mom’s hospital bed request. In his case the road goes through her PCP’s office. Calling it is like shouting into a sewer. There’s not even an echo in response.
Today’s theme music veers to remembrance of David Sanborn’s work. The saxophonist died this week, robbing us of another wonderful musical talent. While more talented musicians keep emerging, the ones who marked us with their style should remain recognized and appreciated.
One of the first songs The Neurons pulled up for David Sanborn was David Bowie’s “Young Americans” from 1975. Then, as I read appreciations about him, many more people mentioned this same song. Sanborn’s body of work was much better than that, though.
I like this video which I found to showcase Sanborn. Not the best sound quality, but there’s a lot of talent on display here beyond Bowie and Sanborn. So many of them have passed.
Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Meanwhile, create and adhere to a vision of a better world. We make it happen, yes, we can make it happen.
Happy Mother’s Day in the U.S. Hope all you mothers enjoy of celebration and joy.
Today is Sunday May 12, 2024. Clouds without breaks occlude the sun in the Churchill Valley where the cities I’m visiting are located. It’s 50 F now. Weather elements will lift our temp to 65 F. That sullen winter taste in the air has melted away. We’ve returned to a cold, wet, spring essence.
My Mother’s Day mental perambulations are searches for how to help Mom. She’s tired, often in pain, fighting to moving and thinking, but everything tires her to deep levels. She wants and needs help. Finding it is now my mission.
There are agencies to help. They’re mired in bureaucracy. Nothing has an easy approach or quick timelines. Phone calls, emails, and chats will be the upcoming week’s norms.
Her own habits, experiences, and expectations are a significant obstacle. She expects to bounce back but the bounce is gone. She wants or needs, which I guess should be married as a word, waeds, to do the cleaning she has always done, to be hygienic and neat. These things take hours and hours. Her zip has diminished to a lumpy trundle.
Her decline has been going on a while, since ‘The Fall’. That seemed to trigger everything; she’s been fighting against its ripples for over a decade. Classic story, definitely in America, probably in many other countries as well. She confided to me last night that she fell hard five times in the first three days after returning home. That is no good.
The morning mental music stream (Trademark flailing) has a song called “Paralyzer” orbiting it. The Finger Eleven beats started my mental journey while I was still abed. My brain was gyrating around the things wanted and the things needed, and the destinations and journeys of all the players when the 2007 tune kicked in. It’s not an even matchup between the song and the morning, except I was dealing with a sense of paralysis and a resistance to moving. Then I told myself I’d treat me to a cuppa coffee if I left the bed, dressed, and started doing things. I’m a sucker for a promise of coffee.
Stay positive, be strong, lean forward against the winds of resistance, and Vote Blue in 2024. The promise of coffee has been fulfilled. Here’s the music video.
It’s arrived at last, Saturday, May 11, 2024. Those who have been waiting for this day can let their breaths out. It’s here.
Sun is here as well, gleaming off metal and glass, raising hopes that spring and winter has passed. Not for Mom, though; she prefers winter’s cosy parameters, disliking the heat and humidity that summer ladles out once it’s in control.
All is not perfect out there. White clouds are fronting the hazy horizon. It’s a comfortable, even refreshing 53 F now. But — you knew it was coming — the weather masters inform us that rain will be here in three hours. So precise, aren’t they? Our high won’t eclipse 60 F. Meanwhile, my wife told me that they’d squeaked past 80 F back in Ashlandia.
I watched a lot of “Trump on Trial” with Mom on MSNBC this week. Man, they love discussing the details on those shows, trying to spin, what does it all mean? They emerge with titillating ideas about whether each witness was positive or negative for Trump, the defense, and the prosecution. They’re giddy over what Cohen will say.
But wait, there’s more! There are two witnesses next week. Who will it be besides Cohen? What does this mean for the trial? It is fascinating theater. I’m more interested in the outcome.
Listening and watching, I do wonder what’s going on in Trump’s head. He looks like crap. I wonder what the jurors are thinking. Will they buy the idea, one, that Trump didn’t pay any attention to these $35,000 checks he was signing from his personal account because he was too busy, that he had no idea what they were for?
Can the jurors agree that there was no sex at all? That’s it’s just a con job by Stormy Daniels?
Is it conceivable for the jurors to conclude that Cohen came up with this on his own, that Trump was totally clueless and uninvolved?
Well, there are people who think the Earth is flat.
Weezer is riding the morning mental music stream (Trademark buried). The song is from 2005, “Perfect Situation”. The Neurons introduced it after I rhetorically inquired of myself this morning, am I insane? That dovetailed with the song’s opening lines, “What’s the deal with my brain? Why am I so obviously insane?”
Stay fresh and regularly bathe. Also, be positive and stay strong. Aaannnd, Vote Blue in 2024. I’m drinking coffee now, and it’s good going down. Yeah, baby.
Sunshine rules Penn Hills and Monroeville this morning.
The clouds haven’t been dismissed like a MAGA claim. Oh, no. But they’re broken white and blue-grey pieces of what they once were.
This is May 8, 2024. Current temp here is 71 F. 82 F is our ceiling today.
We had a terrific thunderstorm around 1:30 AM this morning. Sky played cracked the whip with its sounds. I’d heard its soft rumbling beginnings as I was faded. Thought, what is that noise? Animal? Rain? Nope; thunder.
I listened to the storm progress and leave, then dropped into slumber land. There, the storm found its way into my dreams. Fun dreams, though. Nothing sinister or scary.
Mom had a good day yesterday. Physical therapist came by and spent time most of an hour watching her movements, talking to her, teaching her new exercises, closing with checking on the requested wheelchair and hospital bed for her. He was Jim, a nice guy. Man informed me that Jim also tends to clients in prison. I suggested that’s why Jim was selected to help Mom. A good laugh ensued.
Tonight, we attend my nephew’s final high school jazz ensemble concert. Other than that. preparations for a Mother’s Day cook-out at my sister’s house are in full bloom.
Conversations of note with Mom: she was talking about a meal her father used to make in the winters. This was a tangent from some jokes about goulash. She told me about slumgullion: ground beef, tomato sauce, macaroni or pasta, sometimes vegetables. I realized I’d eaten it throughout my life without knowing what it was called.
Another topic was the coal deliveries and the backbreaking work the boys in the household were required to do to get it into the house for its use.
It was absorbing talking to her and Frank about their youths, once again absorbing the mammoth changes in American living compared to eighty years ago. It definitely promotes speculation what people in America will be living like 80 years from now.
Today’s music comes from the dream. “Hang Fire” by the Rolling Stones was released in 1981. The Neurons released it to my morning mental music stream (Trademark stalled) after I contemplated my dreams this morning. It was a pretty good matchup. The song is a lightweight, pop offering. Not my favorite among the Stones’ offerings.
I would write about the Trump trial featuring Stormy Daniels, but I’m a little burnt out on it. I followed it live yesterday, discussing it with Mom. Now the trial has a day off, and I’m taking a day off from thinking and talking about it.
Nor do I feel especially inclined to bring up Gaza and the cease fire agreement, or the campus protests and crackdowns, politics in general, or the bad weather in some parts of the country and world. Just not up to it. More coffee is required before slipping down those muddy paths.
Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Here’s the music video offering. Look at those youngsters!
The spinning never stops. Despite this, activities on Earth shift and a new day arrives. This one is May 7, 2024.
In Penn Hills, PA, we all awaken to light rain and 50 degrees F. Rain is expected to command the day. Cloud cover makes me think, yes, that’s going to happen. But the weather seers say that it’ll be 79 F before Penn Hills is spun away from facing Sol today.
Mom had a rough day yesterday. ‘Bowel matters’, you know? Apparently drained her pretty well — that pun is totally inadvertent — as she napped through the afternoon. I’d ordered Echo Pops for her house so we can use her Alexa as an intercom. That will end the need for her and Frank to bellow across the domicile at one another. Alexa can also be used to call others, including an ambulance. As Alexa is voice activated, if they fall and can’t get up, they can still call for help.
The Pops were a breeze to set up. Three were added to the system. At less than $20 each, they seem like a simple and inexpensive intercom solution. Because issue will be conditioning Mom and Frank to use them.
I’m at the coffee shop now. I’ve established a basic routine. Up a 7:45. Mediation, exercise, dress. Out the door to the coffee shop. Back before noon.
Mom and Frank are usually sleeping until tennish. Incidents in the night frequently break their sleep. Mom gets out of bed, dresses and comes downstairs by noon. I relieve Frank. He takes off to visit his family and work out at the gym. I visit with Mom, make her ‘breakfast’, and help her with her needs. Breakfast is marked like that because it’s usually after one before she wants to eat.
It’s a crowded coffee shop today, so I’m in my spaceship fantasy, where we’re not a planet hurtling through space, but a human made machine destined for a new planet.
Today’s song has unknown origins in my morning mental music stream (Trademark confused). The Neurons ordered up “Little Miss Can Be Wrong”. They’re treating their reasoning for that song choice as double top-secret closehold information.
Not that I mind the song. Released by the Spin Doctors in 1992, it’s energetic and beaty. Not bad music to be revolving over and over and over again in your mind, right, right?
Coffee is being inhaled. Be strong, stay cool and positive, and Vote Blue n 2024. That’s my current plan. Here’s the music. Cheers
Welcome to post Cinco de Mayo. Mild, light cloud cover delivers mixes of grays to the area atmosphere. Sunlight delivers mediocre light and warmth with promises of more. It’s Monday, May 6, 2024. While it’s a humid 65 F now, it feels like 69 F and they warn us that we’ll reach 72 F today.
Complemented with a baguette, little sister’s vegetable soup yesterday worked perfectly for lunch and dinner yesterday. Then came a thunderstorm which held me in appreciation for an hour. It’s been a time since I’ve experienced a solid thunderstorm experience. I made the most of it for myself. Mom worried about lightning striking me. Such a worrier. Then she told about how they used to race to trees for protection when she was a child and there was a thunderstorm. That brought good laugh.
Penn Hills/Monroeville are lousy with scurrying traffic, people seeking to reach work, school, appointments — who knows? Each car’s occupants have their own agenda and story. It’s a monumental shift from Ashlandia’s low key vibe. Sort of entertaining to be back in such an environment. The area seems to thrive with a sense of purpose.
Another change from there (Ashlandia) to here are the political ads. See them for both sides. Democratic ads feature Trump talking about ending abortion followed by a woman telling her story about almost dying and being saved by an abortion. Though losing the fetus, she recovered. She worries about the future and how these abortion laws will affect women and their health and safety.
Republican ads engage the ‘open border’ issue and the terror of people crossing the border. They tell the debunked story of one immigrant murdering a woman.
There’s little color in either ad. Both are addressing fears. However, the GOP ad doesn’t address how Congress with Republican leadership has worked against President Biden and the Democratic Party from addressing the border. If you’re casually involved in politics — not paying attention, in other words — could be swayed by either ad.
Have little fear about Mom not being informed. This is a political household I’m staying in. Mom and her beau are strong Democrats, leaning moderate to progressive on the scale on most issues. They have MSNBC and CNN on throughout the day covering the issues for them. CNBC is jumped to for a couple shows. Sometimes Fox is put on but it’s not long before they’re saying that they “can’t stand those people on Fox” and change the channel.
The Neurons have “Dani California” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark stonewalled). I blame Suzanne Craig-Whytock. “Californication” by the Red Hot Chili Peppers was the theme music the other day. Suzanne commented that she liked the day’s song but preferred “Dani California”. Thus encouraged, The Neurons started up.
I like the 2006 song, though, so it’s all good. Came off the same Californication album and shares the same stylistic flavors.
BTW, Suzanne is one of eleven authors long listed for the 2024 Leacock Memorial Medal for Humour for her book What Any Normal Person Would Do. So congratulations to her. I fully expect her to win. If a break from the nastiness of politics and depressing world events is needed, click to her blog and buy her book. Her subjects are real-life, anxiety-driven, and funny.
Okay, coffee is being downed. Be strong, stay fresh, remain positive, and Vote Blue in 2024. Ima gonna go off to write now. Here’s the video. It’s a lot of fun as they parody leading rock/pop acts from several eras.
Now it’s day. May 5, 2024. Rain. 56 F. Sea of clouds. High in the low sixties. A week until Mother’s Day. Jostling about what to do for Mom for Mom’s Day will begin this week.
Mom is doing well. Energy levels seem up. I had to harangue her to do her physical therapy exercises yesterday. Following her obsessive compulsive behavior, she wanted to clean. The day before, it was to clean the kitchen. Yesterday, it was vacuum. I took that over from her after failing to talk her out of it. Wonder what cleaning she’ll insist on today. Bet it’s the laundry. The entire time she’s doing these cleaning tasks, she complains about her back pain and cries out in pain, talks about how hot and tired she feels, and how she needs to sit down. Yet she cleans on. It’s a lifetime of habit and conditioning driving her. Hard to break that.
Little sister L is scheduled to visit. She’s bringing over vegetable soup. It’s good vegetable soup weather. I am looking forward to it.
Meanwhile, I went to little sister G’s house last night, visiting with her gang. Had dinner of turkey meat loaf with mashed potatoes and roasted carrots with onions. All so delicious. Dessert was then bakery three berry pie, also excellent. Her hubby bought some excellent beer and I two of those. We watched the Derby, an exciting race with a surprising outcome.
The Neurons loaded “All I Need Is A Miracle” into the morning mental music stream (Trademark dizzying). The Mike +The Mechanics song was released in 1986 and was from another CD that saw a lot of play as I drove around the southeastern U.S. on military assignments.
I am absolutely certain that a dream inspired The Neurons’ offering to the stream. One of the dream’s acts included meeting a woman who was really attractive to me. But I’m married, as she was, and I didn’t want to indulge in affairs. But noticing my interest in her, she decided to come after me. Flattered, I remained true to my fidelity and rejected her. This went back and forth throughout the dream. She eventually told me that all she needs is a miracle. And there we are.
As for the song, it’s classic 1980s techno-rock, with that beat, bass line, and keyboards. Harbors lots of memories and good times for moi, as we said in those days.
Stay positive and strong, be sharp and ready, and Vote Blue in 2024. I’m at the coffee shop and we’ve had sip off. Here’s the video. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 