Hi there. Today is Monday, April 1, 2024. Watch out for those tricks.
The sun isn’t doing any tricks. Sipping coffee in the living room, I watched through the Eastern windows as the sun rose and shifted. A hearty light bloomed, taking the 38 degree F’s cold off a little. By degrees, the sun pulled our temperatures higher. We’re up to 47 F now. Nothing but blue from horizon to horizon. 69 F is possible, they say.
Guess who is happy that the sun is full and strong today? If you said me, you’re right. But if you said that the sun’s appearance gladden the floofs, you’re also right. Tucker and Papi are on the back patio appreciating the sun, washing on the cement, prancing through the grass, or sitting, gazing, listening, sniffing the air.
Back in 1970, Led Zeppelin released the song playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark floundering). The Neurons ordered up “Celebration Day” today. This song seems to me like the vocalist as a narrator is happy about the day while he also spills a tale about a woman is becoming lost and confused about what’s going on.
Fer instance, the song begins, “Her face is cracked from smiling, all the fears that she’s been hiding, and it seems that pretty soon, everybody’s gonna know.” Pretty damn bleak, isn’t it?
But the chorus is, “My, my, my, I’m so happy, I’m gonna join the band. We gonna dance and sing in celebration. We are in the promised land.”
So my interpretation is that something happens, happened, or is happening which brings despair to some as others celebrate. It’s true in life and really visible in sports, awards, and politics.
Hope you can keep positive and strong, lean forward against the winds of resistance, and Vote Blue. I’m trying to do the same. Here’s the throwback music. Cheers
Round and round, here we go, another March in another year (yeah, still 2024), another Thursday in another week. It’s the 28th. This month of this year is almost done, and with its passing, one fourth of 2024 is history.
Chilly, cloudy, rainy. That’s my adjectives for today. Snow capped the highest peaks around the valley to the north yesterday. The rain just fell and fell.
Rain has stopped today. After dropping to the upper thirties last night, we’ve crept up to 51 F degrees. That’s close to the day’s upper limit.
The big news from my perspective is that Tucker survived his surgery. Back home, he’s recovering, mostly hanging out in the office where we hang out, by the space heater where my wife hangs out. Slept with me last night, purring away. He’s doing well after having all teeth removed due to refractory stomatitis gingivitis. The RSG often led to inflamed, bleeding gums for my boy, and just became progressively worse.
Recovery involves a great deal of painkillers. Painkillers mean sleep. Buprenorphine two to three times a day. A mild opioid, this makes Tucker glassy eyed. It’s on top of his other painkiller twice a day.
He’s also on a soft food diet for the next two weeks. That’ll be a challenge for the kibble chief. The black and white fur fellow loves his kibble.
Today’s song is by Ratt. “Round and Round” was released in 1984. It’s Ratt’s highest charting song, and it’s probably the best known number for the group.
It began going around and around my morning mental music stream (Trademark in the mail) after reading news. First, again. These days just go round and round. I cycle through the news cycles. Other than war, murder, and disasters, the rest of the news seems to be on permanent spin. Trials. Elections. Misinformation. “Biden is too old! Biden is too old!” Give me a break.
Round and round, Marjorie Taylor Green is threatening to unseat a GOP House Speaker again. Same ol’ antics that she did before. Hey, dear, what goes around comes around, you know? Just ask Ronna McDaniel, previously of the RNC, more recently of NBC News. The stuff she spread during her RNC days — just doing her job, officer — has come back to haunt her.
Or ask President Biden’s predecessor. Now facing prosecution for the things he did and said. Round and round, what goes around — you get it, right?
BTW, for those unfamiliar with Ratt, they were glam rockers, part of the big hair movement of the 1980s. The big hair glam rockers had lots of hair. We could often barely see their faces because of their long, frequently curly, wavy, fluffy, and well, BIG, hair. One of our past rock movements. What goes around is supposed to come around again, right? It is happening among the TikTok Alphas. They like fat leg pants, which is what I wore in the early 1970s. And I hear many embrace the old-style phones.
Well, we’ll see if big hair glam rock returns from the grave.
Stay positive, hang on, lean forward, and Vote Blue. Please. Coffee has cometh and is being consumedeth. Here’s the nostalgic video. Hope your day is a powerful one for you.
TL/DR: It’s spring. Today’s song is “Why Worry” by Dire Straits. President Biden’s predecessor and current GOP candidate is enamored with dictators, promises a bloodbath if he doesn’t win, and thinks some humans “aren’t human”.
Hello, my traveling peers. It’s Sunday again, March 17 again, but adding the year, 2024, makes it a whole new date.
The average daily high for Ashland in March is 58 F degrees. We expect to hit 71 F. I think I’ll be higher.
I checked a local weather station’s temperature, along with the SOU (Southern Oregon University) weather station, and a web weather source. Here are our temp variations:
My house: (Clay Street, southern end, in early morning mountain shadows, 1836 feet elevation): 45.5 F
Wimer Street: (2 miles west of Clay Street, above downtown, 2050 feet elevation, in mountains): 46.2
SOU: (1.1 miles southwest of Clay Street, 1890 feet elevation, in sunshine by East Main Street): 42.1
MSN.com: 50 F.
Honestly, SOU’s elevation — 1890 feet — seems suspect to me. We descend to that location via a series of hills. For the record, Ashland’s official elevation is 1949 feet. We consider ourselves ‘the valley’, but the valley floor is a little bit lower than us. It’s a pinched and rolling place on this end of the Rogue Valley.
Whatever the temp, it’s a spring day out there, with colors along the spectrum breaking out all over the region.
Then there’s the story circulating about Trump’s other comments during a campaign speech. This is from an article on TheHill.com, but it’s in WaPo and others, too.
“I don’t know if you call them people,” he said at the rally. “In some cases they’re not people, in my opinion. But I’m not allowed to say that because the radical left says that’s a terrible thing to say.”
See, I am ‘the radical left’ because I think others are people. I base this on biology. Genetics. Not politics, religion, or circumstance. It doesn’t matter where they come from. Or how they reached our land. But in Donald J. Trump’s opinion, some people are not people. That’s just laying the foundation to treat other humans as less than human as justification for inhumane treatment.
Okay, class, can anyone name a fomer world leader and dictator who said things like that about other humans?
Well, no. I agree. However, a surprising chunk of Americans seem to disagree. People — and I was one — overlooked how many Americans backed Hitler before WWII and even during WWII. There are Americans among us who still back Hitler because they’re antisemites. They want someone to blame, and remain willing to claim Jews are causing them problems.
That’s one reason they like and support Trump. Trump isn’t bothered by Hitler’s record. His former chief of staff related that “Trump said Hitler did some good things.” That’s worrying for someone threatening bloodbaths if he doesn’t win, and chatting and joking about being a dictator on day one if he does win.
But what about the greater Republican party? I share Ms Pequeño concern, “Will Republicans ever care?” I’m concerned that many don’t know and don’t care because they’ve convinced themselves that Trump is something else, someone special to them. They write off the rest of us and our dire threats about Trump as the lies of outsiders who don’t see Trump as they do.
I agree, too, with Ms Pequeño’s final assertion: “So, everybody who is bothered by this, Republicans and Democrats alike, should keep pointing to his comments for the rest of this election. Then voters can ultimately decide if they support this or not.”
Today, The Neurons posted “Why Worry” by Dire Straits to the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). I know exactly what’s going on with me this soft 1985 song by Mark Knopfler.
I’m a worrier and regularly talk myself down. I recognize that the view I get of the world is skewed and imperfect, no matter how many sources I use. Many of those sources are political or commercial. Each uses buzzwords and headlines to gather attention. Some of them are just trying to rile me up or say things to help their revenue streams. So, while I will continue to worry and voice my thoughts about my worries, I’ll also try to talk myself down.
The cats are outside in the fenced backyard, loving the warm air and sunshine. I’m about to do the same. Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and vote. Hope your weather is to your approval at your place. Here’s the music. There’s the coffee. Let’s bring it all together. Cheers
Mood: coffeebitious: a hopeful state of mind fed by coffee consumption
Thursday, February 29, 2024, has touched down. The month ends tomorrow, leaving just ten months of 2024 remaining.
I let Papi out at 6:06 this morning, the usual time that he begins crying to leave us. There was enough light that I let him out, suspecting he’d be returning in 20 minutes. Yes, at 6:30, I answered his call to come back in. I noticed it’d been raining and went by Alexa* to inquire about the temperature.
“It’s 44 degrees in Ashland,” she answered. “Today’s high is 44 degrees.”
Oh.
That’s all Fahrenheit, though she didn’t mention it. An hour later, letting Papi back in again, I discovered snowflakes big as silver dollars falling and accumulating. I checked with Alexa about the temp: 34, she told me.
It snowed for an hour more. The northern mountains and ridges were covered down to 3000 feet while the southern view had sparse snow sprinkled over the dark conifers. Now, about 11 AM, a smattering of snow remains but it’s dwindling. The temperature is back up to 41 F. No sun has broken through the sky’s uniformly off-gray cover, but the clouds are thin enough that the sun is almost breaking through. Light rain keeps windshield wipers busy.
Now to the asterisk. Current days, I find myself consulting five different weather sources, including Alexa. I have a home system that seems moderately accurate, but I constantly seek verification of its accuracy. Southern Oregon University has a weather station set up that I also check. A mile away and fifteen hundred feet lower, it’s not good for my location but it features a nice set of historic data for comparisons. A friend has set up a Wunderground station for his house, but he’s on a higher elevation and almost two miles away. Surrounded by trees, living on a mountain’s northern side, his weather varies from mine, but it’s nice to note what another part of town is experiencing. The other two are online offered by browsers and are usually fed by Weather.com. They’re not as accurate for me but they have nice forecast trend models which present some idea of what the weather will be beyond today.
Dreams swarmed my mind last night. At the final dream’s end, I found “I Remember You” filling the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). Written in 1941, I know the song well because I heard it often by different performers while navigating my teens in the 1960s. The song has been covered a lot. Most did it as a torch song. Even the Beatles did it. But the version I best knew was sung by a woman to an up-tempo arrangement. I cannot find that version and don’t know who it was singing it. Nor does Mom know.
That let The Neurons down some, but as I was searching, I came across other interesting songs. One was “I Remember You” by Skid Row, a 1989 power ballad not anything like “I Remember You” with Johhny Mercer’s lyrics. I remember hearing Skid Row’s song on the radio as I drove around to and from work and all that. While searching, I also slid sideways into “Remember (Walking in the Sand)”. The Neurons dished both the Shangri-Las and Aerosmith versions into the MMMS. More interesting to me was Lena Horne singing a song written in 1933, “Stormy Weather”. I knew that song well, too, and her voice and style mesmerized me. So that’s today’s theme music. Although several videos exist of her giving tremendous performances in her youth and middle age, I went with one when she was 80. BTW, it sounds like the guitarist supporting her might have been George Benson. Seems like his style.
Stay strong, lean forward, be positive, and vote, yeah? I’ll do the same, as best as I can. Coffee helps, and I have had a cup so I raring to go. Have a good one. Here’s the music. Cheers
It’s a first for me. Today’s coffee shop crew is all male. I’ve seen all-female crews several times. As I wrote, this is a first. Wondered if it was planned, a response to females noting that there’s often all-female crews, or just happenstance of the schedule. I suspect the last one.
Mood: coffeesophical (when you’re just sipping coffee and thinking)
Monday, which is today, Jan. 15, 2024, which is also today, is weather ala carte. Got some fresh sunshine with sides of 38 F, fog, and blue sky. Mixing it up, you know?
Ihave a John Prine song in the head today, an impromptu addition to my thoughts supplied by The Neurons out of the blue. Well, kind of out of the blue. I was thinking about how easily we become insulated against others’ worries and needs, actually, how we become thoughtless about others’ existence. Things are taken for granted; minor matters gain weight because we have so little bothering us. Out of that came John Prine and a song called, “That’s the Way the World Goes Round” orbiting my morning mental music stream (Trademark done). Originally released in 1978, Prine sang it with Colbert back in 2016, and Cobert broadcast it when he learned that Prine was stricken with COVID-19 and on a ventilator. Well complications from that took Prine in 2020.
Pursue a positive attitude, buck up and be strong, and remain leaning forward with hope for a better existence for people. I’m talkin’ less violence, greed, and hate, you know? Coffee time is fully underway. Here’s the music. Cheers
I probably mentioned it before, but my first sip of coffee is actually two or three deep inhalations of the aroma. I’ve done this more or less since I began drinking coffee as a young adult, but the idea was solidified as a ritual when I read that coffee’s smell enhances focus, memory, and attention span. Figuring I needed whatever advantage I could dredge up, I embraced my ritual.
I imagine that some day, I’ll be older, and sharing that with strangers in coffee shops. But not today.
Saturday, January 13, 2024, has arrived with higher temperatures and heavy, wind-driven rain whipping Ashlandia (where the coffee is excellent and the parks are above average). It’s 42 F now, not far from the expected peak of 49 F. Rain has been falling all night, and the misty low, fat clouds look like they have a lot more to give.
The cats both wanted out this morning after their breakfast. Tucker settled in a dry but cold location on the front porch while Papi sought whatever drives him to wander. I managed to coax both back in after thirty minutes. When they came in, both dashed for me and I discovered Papi was soaked. I toweled him off (despite his protests and efforts to flee) and then Papi headed for the kibble station while Tucker went to the litter box.
Left home early, didn’t take the dog (don’t have one) or the cats (I have two). Coffee shop numero uno was at full cap so I went to numero dos. A prime writing location was available so I sat and began. Unfortunately, I discovered that a leak was exploring the ceiling above and splashing down. I alerted the staff and shifted sites. No good writing location was available but I found a table and set up camp. A young guy at my most preferred site. Understanding that I was on a laptop and could use an outlet, he approached and offered it to me. Such kindness. I offered to buy him something as reward but he declined.
One amusing thing was observed. I saw one barista drift through, washing off the unused tables and tidying. About four minutes after she went through, a second one went through, doing the same thing to the same tables.
Very satisfying and uplifting dreams were experienced last night. Hope everyone has such dreams in their life. Thinking about it had The Neurons plug “What Is Life” by George Harrison (1971) intorock the morning mental music stream (Trademark drifting). I get what The Neurons are doing there, because I’d been musing about life since a conversation with a friend about death the other day. Her husband worries about death and fears it. I related back that I didn’t worry about it because we don’t know if there is an ‘other side’ or the full nature of ourselves and our existence. I mean, between religion, science, and philosophy, we’ve developed some great ideas and insights about what it is. But knowledge is ever-evolving, and as we explore the quantum side of being more, we might surprise ourselves with what we learn. “I think, therefore I am,” might even apply to us after we die along paths that we can’t yet divine.
Stay pos, lean forward, remain strong, and test negative. Coffee and its bennies are already perking through my systems. Here is thy theme music. Cheers
Tuesday was an average day until the man beside me made a move. White as snow, a frazzled gray-beard with hippy-long hair in a pony tail like he’s Willy Nelson, shorter than me by a foot, he broke the day’s calm normalcy by finishing his coffee with a loud slurp, setting the cup down and then walking out through the coffee shop wall. I saw this out of my side vision and swung around, staring as my mind argued about what my eyes were telling me.
Hoping for verification, I shot a look back into the room. Three women at a nearby table were staring at the space beside me. The eldest, pointing and talking, was saying, “That man went through the wall,” as the second, younger, middle-aged, with long blonde hair dry and damaged from aging, was saying, “What?” in that rising confused way which expressed profound doubt about what she was hearing. Her position would have her facing away so she probably didn’t see. But the third, who could have been the blonde’s sister but skinnier, older, and dark-haired, was empatically stating, “Yes, yes, that’s what I saw.”
“You saw that,” I demanded of the two, and they were nodding and asking, “Did you see it, too?” and an elderly man approached, stating in a loud, quavering voice, “I saw that, too, that guy went right out through the wall, I saw it, I saw it.”
Guffawing, my brain said, “Happy New Year,” as the walls began melting and screams rose. 2024 was going to be interesting, if I survive. Either that or this coffee was something really special.
Michael Seidel, writer 