Category: coffee

Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: committed

Thursday, October 19, 2023, slid into its slot. Indian summer has re-commenced in Ashlandia, where the battles over how to help the homeless still rage.

With a sky full of sunshine and a wind full of promise, it’s 72 F right now. Forecasters assure us that our temperature will achieve the low to mid 80s today, a solid complement to the blue sky and fall foliage.

Had a stray cat encounter at home last night. I saw something wink past the front door windows. Investigation was demanded.

I opened the portal to see. In trotted a white and gray cat. An orange splash marked their back like an island in that white sea while its thick, bushy white tail waved like a friendly neighbor.

The cat seemed healthy and friendly. Without a mew, it worked through the house, exploring everything. Some nibbles of kibble were taken. A lengthy investigation of the kitty litter zone followed.

We were concerned. Was this cat lost or cast off? I’d never seen the cat in our neighborhood. That’s limited in how meaningful that is, because I have a limited view of the street and general area. It’s also possible that the cat lived in one of the nearby residences and never got out, but now had, and was confused.

Anyway, we couldn’t keep them. Our male cats barely tolerate one another. They never tolerate any outside cats. The sole exception to that was the late Pepper. A dark tortie, she carried herself with a majesty that asserted royal privilege. She also didn’t hesitate to hiss and swat, should any other feline venture too close. Pepper seemed to make peace with all, eventually; I used to find her and Tucker sleeping side by side on the front porch. I’ve never seen Tucker do that with another floof.

It’s odd to me that Tucker and Papi don’t get along. After all, they actually co-existed with three other cats for several years. When Tucker came, Scheckter was approaching the Rainbow Bridge. We still had Lady and Quinn. Sweet Boo, an onyx shorthair with a white star on his chest, then came along, a stray in need. I searched for his home and people without success, so he joined as a stray in residence.

Papi next joined, and that’s how the family stood for a while until Lady, Quinn, and Boo were each taken. So, I thought that Papi and Tucker were okay and even hoped that they would become friendlier.

Well, flooftente was achieved but they still issue threats and warnings to each other. Happened just the day before yesterday; Papi stepped up behind Tucker and leisurely sniffed over Tucker’s tail and rear. Tucker turned to reciprocate, sending Papi into a yowling, hissing frenzy, like, “Oh, no, he’s going to sniff me.”

So the sweet stray couldn’t be put up. We did set up a bed for them on the front porch and fed it again. The food needed to be brought in because outside pet food invites other creatures: skunks, raccoons, coyotes, foxes. The smell of food might attract one of the bears or cougars who roam our neighborhood. So, very, very reluctantly, we let the cat stay out, hating it all the way.

I posted about the cat on social media last evening but haven’t had a response. They haven’t been spied today. I hope they’re alright; I hope they’re safely home. I put food and water out for them on the front porch, in case they return, and let the boys out into the backyard.

I will also note that Papi returned from his morning patrol at about eight AM. He may have encountered the stray and chased them away. That’s Papi’s style.

While tending the stray last night, I picked up Tucker after he started after the stray. Hugging, kissing, stroking him, reassuring him that he wasn’t being replace, I told Tucker, “You need to stay calm.”

Picking up on that, The Neurons began playing Taylor Swift’s 2019 song, “You Need To Calm Down”. Without surprise, I can report that it’s continued playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark disputable). That’s how the MMMS generally works: once a song is in there, if stays until another song displaces it.

I do like the message out of “You Need to Calm Down”. The song’s message of people acting out in hate because of others’ genders when they’re not binary, or their choices of pronouns, or sexual orientation is exactly as needed. Too many people — many who seem to be right-wing — have gone over the top in their need and eagerness to deny others the freedom and right to be who they are. Right-wingers blast anyone who is not cisgender with surreal claims about how children are prey, or how the emergence of people who identify themselves under the umbrella of LGBTQ+ are destroying the world.

Witness, as a prominent example, Florida, led by Ron Desantis, and their absurd “Don’t Say Gay” law.

‘The bill’s sponsors have emphatically stated that the bill would not prohibit students from talking about their LGBTQ families or bar classroom discussions about LGBTQ history, including events like the 2016 deadly attack on the Pulse nightclub, a gay club in Orlando. Instead, they argue that the bill would bar the “instruction” of sexual orientation or gender identity.

‘But the text says both.’

Stay pos, be strong, and remain calm. I’m having coffee, which should sustain my efforts to do the same. Here’s the music. Carpe Thursday. Cheers

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Perspectives

My wife shared a friend’s anecdote.

She hadn’t seen the friend in a while. They have a regular gang that meet for coffee at Growlers after exercises classes each M-W-F morning.

Converted from an old gas station, Growlers, nominally a purveyor of beers, is in downtown Ashland. It actually shares its space with a small coffee shop. It’s normally not busy in the morning. That allows the coffee gang to pull together tables and make noise as they please. Outdoor seating with firepits is available, and that’s where they’ll typically be.

The gang is a flexible group with active lives, so the group meeting ranges from four to fifteen people. They’re mostly women. Grandmothers and great-grandmothers, retired teachers, programmers, nurses, musicians, accountants, architects, artists, firefighters, college professors, and so on. They’re characters, and have been coming to the same exercise class, with the same instructor, Mary, for over thirty years. My wife, in her mid-sixties, is the youngest. She started the coffee gant back when she began taking the class after we moved here in 2006. Always pursuing fitness, when she arrived here, she began looking for a new exercise routine, and heard about Mary’s Y class. That’s where she was told this tale this morning.

Weirdly, my wife doesn’t like the coffee at Growler’s, so she has tea.

“We’ve downsized,” L said. L is the friend. “I’m 76 and my husband is 82. We had a 3,000 foot home and five and half acres just outside of Ashland. We were talking and agreed, we don’t need all this property. So we sold our place and bought a smaller one here in town.

“Well, after we’d sold our property, the new owners called us. They wondered if we could meet at our old house and walk the property line with them so they can learn about their new land. Naturally, we agreed, so a time and place was set.

“We’d never met them. Well, we got out of the car to wait, and then they arrived. Well, they were older than us! Both had walkers.

“Then they told us, they were downsizing, too. We were speechless.”

I laughed when I was told the story and wondered, moving into a 3000 square foot home with some land while downsizing, just how big was their last place?

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Monday’s Theme Music

Mood: unenthusiastic

Monday came in for me like a snail runnin’ the hundred meters. It’s October 16, 2023.

53 F now in Ashlandia, where the wine is local and the Pinot Noir is pretty damn good. An unrelenting, unhappy wind is assailing us under a dull gray sky. Rain is due. Fall is assuming its familiar form. Leaves changed color and now they’re dropping off trees, piling up again curbs and in yards, and zipping past windows on a zephyr motor.

Birthdays are pending. Cards and gifts must be purchased and sent. October is our family’s heaviest birthday month, with one past and eight due.

Mom’s birthday is one of them. I’m not sure what to get her. Sitting and conversing at Empty Bowls on Friday, someone mentioned something. I said, “Maybe I should get that for Mom for her birthday.”

Beside me, my wife brightned. “That’s a great idea.”

Neither can remember what ‘it’ was. We’re still working on pulling it out of memory. Sometimes it takes two minds to remember things. LOL.

Still sick. Stayed in from writing yesterday. Mostly read and napped, watched some NFL football.

Sore throat is gone; yea. Energy, though, is really tanked. Like someone siphoned it away. Headache was there and ears were hurting this morning. But I drank coffee to kick start my energy. Surprise, the head and ear pains fled. So hurray for coffee, once again.

Locking into my mood, The Neurons have positioned “Ridin’ the Storm Out” by REO Speedwagon into the morning mental music stream (Trademark ignored). The 1981 song emerged when I was stationed with the Air Force on Okinawa, Japan.

Okinawa is a narrow island and subject to typhoons/tropical cyclones. These were often endured with ‘Phoon Parties’. You tape over and board over the windows with what you can find. Then you raid the booze store on base and the Commissary to buy provisions. While the aircraft were evacuated, we prepared to survive a few days, possibly without electricity.

My wife and I were fortunate in our first three years. We had a tiny off-base apartment in a tiny apartment building. The landlords lived on the bottom floor, and a dozen US couples lived in the apartments. During a ‘phoon, we could visit each other via the inside hallways, so we’d play games like Uno, or Trivial Pursuit, or visit to chat and borrows stuff.

Time to light this Monday. Stay pos, be strong, and keep well. Here’s the music. More coffee, stat. Cheers

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Mood: coffee-ized bubbly

Greetings to Saturday, October 14, 2023.

Although it’s only 49 F now, they point us toward a high in the mid to upper seventies.

It’s a pleasant morning. No wind. Light clouds blemish the blue sky. I’d checked early; here in southern Oregon, just above he California border, in Oregon’s southwestern corner, we’re on the edge of the eclipse path. We wanted to see that sucker.

Awaiting the annular eclipse, which was expected in Ashlandia (where the soups are hot and the desserts are delicious) at 9:18 AM. Sitting in my office, which is on the house’s west side, I noticed a darkening. Leaping up, I grabbed my eclipse classes and dashed out to check the eclipse.

Yes! It had begun.

I ran back in and yelled the news to my wife and scurried back out. The viewing spot was on the sidewalk in front of my house. Peering east by southeast between trees and houses gave us a satisfying view. At first, the moon rendered the sun into a fat but bright bottom heavy crescent moon. The moon’s journey over the sun kept thinning the sun crescent. Simultaneously, the sun began darkening, acquiring a burnt orange glaze.

As the eclipse progressed, my wife said, “That reminds me of the eye of Sauron.” She shifted into her best Golem voice. “My precious. Where is my precious coffee?”

We developed a routine. Watch for a few minutes, dash inside, sip some coffee, return. I modified my path, setting coffee over on the sidewalk, out of the way by the house, so no one would kick it over.

We didn’t notice any changes in birds or anything. Oddly, two trios of people walking dogs paid no attention to the eclipse as this all transpired. Both were younger middle age (the people, not the dogs). I wondered, did they not know, or did they not care? Were they anti-science people?

More questions which will never be answered for me.

Finally, at 9:18, we had the ring of fire, or seventy percent of it, as that’s what science declared we’d see here. The eclipse at this point reminded us of a black button with an illuminated ring around it. What would happen it we pressed it?

Throwing caution into the trash, we pressed it several times. Nothing was noted as different, but in some other part of the world, the sun could be blinking in and out. Or a fuse was blown or a circuit breaker thrown and nothing was happening. We couldn’t tell.

At its fullest point, we said, “Hello sun, hello moon.” Nice to address them as a couple.

As for the cats, they took opposite approaches to the eclipse, just as they do everything. They’re always a study in opposites. Papi, our sleek, short haired orange tabby, wants little to do with people and doesn’t show much interest in our food or activities. He doesn’t like loud noises and despises the wind.

Tucker, the black and white long-haired elder beast enjoys being with us and wants to be in on everything. If we’re eating, he wants to know how it smells and tastes.

While we were checking the eclipse, Papi shied away safe place in backyard sun. Drawing his legs in and curling his tail around his bod, he posed in a perfect loaf position.

Tucker stayed with us. If we went in for coffee, he came with us, going back out when we did, walking around by us as we looked up at the sun. He didn’t care anything for the sun; his focus was on his people.

The eclipse is dwinding now as the sun and moon say their farewells and part. We’ve come back into the house. One of us goes out every few minutes and comes back in to update the other. But it’s anti-climatic at this point, like a blow-out in a football game. We’re just waiting for the end.

The Neurons have come up with “Eclipse” from the 1973 Pink Floyd album, Dark Side of the Moon to mark the day. A terrific climax to a favorite album, it’s quite welcomed in the morning mental music stream (Trademark deteriorating).

And everything under the sun is in tune

But the sun is eclipsed by the moon.

Clouds have covered the sun and dulls the sky. Time to press on. Stay pos, be safe, and be strong. Coffee has been drunk, thanks. Here’s the music. Cheer

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: restrained

Wednesday, October 11, 2023, has landed in Ashlandia, where the cats are good-looking and the dogs are above average.

Rain showers are in today’s formula. But sunshines is also being ladled in. Despite the sun, our temp. now is 48 F and we’re only anticipating a 53 F high. Leaves are departing trees at this point. Autumn is cranking it into another gear.

We’ve started a new jigsaw puzzle, found in the Library of Things in Ashland yesterday. The puzzle features a lovely little creek tumbling over rocks in a forest. Boulders are on one side, while golden trees are on the other, a scene from our park which we’ve passed numerous times. Scripted words say, ‘Ashland, Oregon’ in two large lines at the top and ‘Upper Falls, Ashland Creek’, in two smaller lines at the bottom. It’s a fall scene, which fits right in.

Opening the piece, we found a note: “Missing piece”. It’s like, oh, curses.

We always begin with the edge and then build from there. It’s my wife’s favorite part. She usually drops out after that until it comes to finishing it.

Knowing a piece is missing, though, is a problem. Like, I’m putting the border together, and — ahem — a piece seems to be missing. But is it missing? I could just be doing the puzzle wrong. Or it can still be undiscovered in the box.

I’ve vowed that I’m going to mark the box’s front with the point that a piece is missing, and put a note inside telling where the missing pieces goes.

Today’s music comes from The Neurons. Weird dreams inspired them. Part of them was a military dream. Though dressed in a uniform, I desired better uniforms. To get them, I had to walk a tightrope, which I was doing well, but the other tightropes extended from the one I was on. With each step, the lights went lower until I was walking in almost full darkness, feeling with my feet.

Out of that came the admonition, “Take it slow.”

That’s a line from a Twenty-one Pilots song. Remembering it, I recalled a “Heathens/Stranger Things” mashup they did live in Romania in 2022, and went looking for it. “Heathens” was released as a single from Suicide Squad, a movie. “Stranger Things” is a popular Netflix streaming show. The mashup between them is terrific. “Take it slow” are lyrics from “Heathens”.

All my friends are heathens, take it slow
Wait for them to ask you who you know
Please don’t make any sudden moves
You don’t know the half of the abuse

All my friends are heathens, take it slow (watch it)
Wait for them to ask you who you know (watch it)
Please all my friends are heathens, take it slow (watch it)
Wait for them to ask you who you know

h/t to musimixmatch.com via Google.

Since “Heathens” was circulating in the morning mental music stream (Trademark ponderous), I though I’d find the mashup and gift it all to you.

Hot, black coffee is being sipped as raindrops tat the pane behind me. Stay positive, be strong, and take it slow. Here I go, launching into another day. Enjoy the music. Cheers

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Monday’s Wandering Thought

I’m a regular at one coffee house in town. There are other regulars but I’m told that I’m one of the most consistent and dependable. I spend a few hours a day in there, drinking my favorite black brew while sitting in the corner, writing.

The baristas and manager all know me just because I’ve been coming here so long, and we chat when I’m ordering. We talk about football, politics, books, news, movies, etc. They know my drink — it’s always the same — so ordering is not necessary, though paying is. It isn’t unusual for them to hand me my drink when I step up to order.

I suppose this is why one small but touching practice has evolved. For whatever reasons — miscommunication or mistake — they’ll end up with food that the customer they made it for doesn’t want it. This includes pastries, cookies, brownies, cake, and sandwiches. So often, they walk across the crowded room to offer it to me first.

I am touched but usually turn it down. I have more than enough to eat. While I appreciate it, I think there are others who would appreciate, enjoy, and need it more than me. And, when I turn it down, they do find another who wants it.

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The Writing Moment

Revising my current novel-in-progress continues. I expected to be done by now. I was excited the other day because, hey, only thirty pages remain.

I am over page 400 now, so I have that going for me. But, as I read and revise, I encounter matters of continuity. Like eye or hair color, nicknames, and details relating to the characters’ personal histories.

I don’t know what the right thing to do is, but I always stop, go back, and resolve the issue for myself. It’s one of my personality quirks that if I know that’s still in the book, I become bogged down thinking about it. Better to just resolve it.

A danger to going back to research continuity is that rereading those passages entertains me. I get invested with enjoying the story. Which means that the revising timeline gets imperiled by reading my own stuff for entertainment. There’s also often a little more needs to edit and revise exposed. Like, I’ll encounter a sentence that’s slightly scrambled, just enough for me to question my writing skills and stop to fix those issues.

I also backtracked to a previous chapter. I’d been quite long, so I modified it and re-invented the one big chapter into four smaller ones. Then I did something to another long chapter, feeling that the move would enhance clarity and pacing – win-win.

The final note on this part of the revision is that it’s tying up the story, closing with a large battle, with some matters of other dimensions and time thrown in. I’m a sucker for other dimensions and time. My writer self is amused with our current theories and understanding of these things. Like the growing understanding of quantum entanglement and other quantum matters, I think we have more to understand about time and existence.

The passages in question were also written at high speed: think, write, and press on, with admonitions to myself, don’t slow down to analyze and question. Just get it done and fix it in revision.

And that’s what I’m doing. TBH, I’m a little surprised that it flows as well as it does.

Onward, right? Yeah, just give me a little more coffee. Pass it over; doesn’t matter if it’s cold.

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The Writing Moment

It was mid-Saturday morning.

I’d arrived in my favorite coffee locale for my writing session. Vintage soulful music with a jazzy edge was playing on the overhead speaker system. The baristas were busy with drive-through business. Only one other person shared the tables with me, a young woman in a far corner who displayed predatory interest in her cell phone. I’d seen her there before, never with anyone else, and always engaged in her cell. As usual, she was dressed in a sloppy style of what looked like pink and gray pajamas. Her solitude, isolation, and deep focus on her phone piqued my writer side. Oddly, I’d never caught her name from the baristas when her order was called.

I’d pulled my laptop out and had it set up. My mind was already in writing mode. I’m halfway through the first revision of a novel-in-progress with a weird working title, Yum. With my nephew’s wedding and the travel to Pittsburgh and other activities it entailed done, I was eager to delve into the story I’d written. Its speculative nature readily engaged me, and I’m really pleased with what I have so far.

“M, your coffee is up.”

The speaker was the barista, Nate, a good-looking, dark-haired man who seems in his early twenties. I gt along with him quite well. He’s always in a good mood, and we’ll often talk about subjects outside of coffee, inclding smoke and politics.

I headed up to collect my cup and discovered it filled to the brim. Grinning at me, Nate said, “You said you wanted no room.”

I laughed. “Clever.” I reached for a straw.

“Want me to pour some out?” Nate asked while making coffee drinks.

Shaking my head, I gave him a severe look. “Pour out fresh coffee?” Its steamy smell filled my nose. “No, no, challenge accept.”

Inserting the straw into the hot beverage, I sucked some up so it wouldn’t slop any over when I walked. Nate watched and laughed.

“Good job,” he shouted as I took my drink and headed for my table.

“Damn straight,” I answered. If coffee was to be wasted today, it wouldn’t be at my hand.

Time to write like crazy, one more time.

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Thursday’s Wandering Thoughts

Stopped by Starbucks yesterday to meet a friend. They had a big display up celebrating twenty years of the pumpkin spice flavor. I remembered the first time I ever had one. My wife and I lived in Half Moon Bay, California. Relatives from the eastern US were visiting. An oddly chilly, damp day, we went to the Tech Museum in San Jose. Not far away was a Starbucks. We walked to it to get a hot coffee drink and on a whim, several of us had pumpkin spice lattes. The flavor surprised and impressed me.

But they or I changed in the intervening time. I had a sampler they’d put up; after a sip, the tastebuds said, “Oh, god, no.” I tossed it.

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