Friday’s Theme Music

Rivers of black and white clouds roil and move, splitting the sky into islands of blue. It’s Friday, but the weather doesn’t care. 47 F so not bad from the temperature aspect although it does feel like 40, they tell me (I could of sworn it feels like 38 but whatever), but it’s rainy and windy, with the sun bobbing in and out of cloud cover.

This is February 3, 2023. Ashlandia’s high temperature will be (check checking) 50 degrees F. We’re trending warmer this week, with no lows below freezing and highs hanging around the mid 50s until Wednesday. The overnight low will drop to 28 that day, and it’ll rain. The sun made its rise over our mountainous horizon this morning at 7:22 and will skate away from Ashlandia’s sky at 5:28 PM.

The state is slipping and sliding through the mechanism of producing and selling magic mushrooms here. Yes, one is available. After psilocybin was voted to be used as a legal hallucinogen in Oregon, the legislature gave the counties and cities the opportunity to opt out or hold a two-year moratorium on doing anything with the new situation. My state and city didn’t opt out. They’re not doing anything about it yet, as psilocybin is still illegal on the Federal level. Marijuana was in the same situation when Oregon went legal with it for recreational uses as well as medical. It still is Federally illegal, but the Feds let the states enforce the situation for the most part, and more states have opted for legal recreational marijuana use. We’re now at the stage where the state is going to address the legal situation and law enforcement for possession and use of psilocybin with the Biden administration. Although other actions are being taken in parallel to this, the handshake between the Federal and state levels of law enforcement is a huge aspect.

Marijuana growing and sales has worked out well for Oregon, in a general sense. The largest problems are water and illegal cultivations by gangs that moved up here from down south. We’re addressing both. I’m pleased with marijuana and psilocybin being made legally available as it helps many of my friends who endured severe trauma and injuries in their jobs, either in the military, as police officers, or fighting fire. These drugs help them deal with pain and PTSD.

The Neurons have several songs going in the morning mental music stream. Two are by Ozzy Osbourne. He’s been in the news with health matters and the announcement that his touring days are done so naturally Les Neurons picked up on him and his music and plugged it into my head. The other song is “Livin’ on the Edge” by Aerosmith, from 1993. That’s the one, I decided. “Livin’ on the Edge” is Friday’s theme music.

Coffee has arrived and been consumed while it was hot. Time to move along, little doggies. Stay positive and enjoy Friday and all the days which follow.

Cheers

February 3, 2023 2

January 30, 2023 2

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Time for electric Elevens. Yes, we’re on the 11th of Jan, 2023. Coming up on the month’s halfway point of the new year’s first month.

Little has changed for me and it feels depressing. I’m sipping coffee in hopes of elevating my mood. Don’t know why I’m down but I can speculate on reasons. Could be the fog, rain, and wind swirling around outside. Wind sounds like it’s planted someone right outside the window to make ghostly woooooo noises. Writing the first draft and working on it to improve the story could be depressing me because it feels like there’s so much more still to do. Maybe it’s just the news and its unchanging flavors of death and politics, and the ugly, jaundiced textures that infuse it. Or, it could be that I’m in a rut and it wearies me, looking up the rut’s same walls. Probably just my time of month, when hormonal changes bring out my dark side. I could also chalk up to SAD, one supposes. Reminder to self to not make any impulsively stupid decisions today, because this will pass, brother.

Wednesday has landed on us. The fog has moved back and up, so I can see more world. Chainsaws and chippers drone and sing, informing me of another tree’s demise. Outside, it’s 42 degrees F again though it feels like 33. Flat white clouds with a tincture of gray have overwhelmed the sun. Sunrise was same as yesterday, 7:39 AM, but sunset has inched a few minutes back and will now be at 5 PM sharp.

Two songs compete in the morning mental music ~~scream~~ stream. The Neurons have me hearing “Just My Style” by Gary Lewis & the Playboys from 1965. Okay. The other is “Self Esteem” by the Offspring from the middle of the 1990s. I can guess why The Neurons are doing this to me. The same lines keep repeating, from one and then the other. First we have the bass delivery, “Don’t you know that she’s,” followed by the rest of the band singing “Just my style,” from the first song. Then the Offspring sing, “The more you suffer, the more it shows you really care, right? Yeah.” Both have been featured in this space before. I’ll flip a mental coin for which one is today’s theme music.

Time to drink up this coffee and pretend it’s a day. Stay positive! Test negative. Rise above yourself, I tell myself. I’ll suggest the same to you. Let me end this whiney scree. Hey, look sunshine! Too slow — it’s gone. Keep an eye out; it’ll be back.

Cheers

January 11, 2023 0

‘Nother Military Dream

It was another military dream but with a marked difference. First, a friend, Jeff, who was also in the military was in the dream.

I was at some unidentified Air Force base. I was a chief master sergeant, E9, and was due to attend a conference of CMS that was due to start. (This is two ranks above my RL retired rank.) I worried about my hair, my uniform, and my shoes as attendees began arriving. But I slipped away and pressed my uniform, taking care of that, putting razor sharp creases in it. Then I stayed low until the barber opened. When I walked into the barber shop, there were two barbers and no customers, so either one could immediately cut my hair. Both knew me by name.

After getting my hair cut, I left the shop and looked down at my shoes. They were scuffed and old. I said to myself, those aren’t my shoes, and they immediately changed into highly polished new shoes.

I felt a lot better about myself. I ran into Jeff, also a CMS. He and I chatted. I ended up telling him about a cousin who died of cancer (a cancer did die of cancer in RL). We were walking around as we talked. Female military spouses were all over the place, and they kept flirting with me. The attention flattered me.

Jeff and I stayed together through the morning, sitting down and eating. Then the conference was due to start. Another CMS came up and asked if I was going, because it was getting under way. I told him that I’d left the military twice and came back twice, but now I’m done. I wasn’t going to attend. I was taking off my uniform and leaving.

I went off to find a bathroom. When I found one, I undressed and then peed and discovered that my pecker was half purple. One of the wives walked in on me. While taking a long look at my body, she apologized for entering. I replied, “I don’t mind. I’m just wondering why my penis is half purple.”

Dream end.

January 3, 2023 0

Tuesday’s Wandering Thought

The differences between them are growing after almost half of a century being together.

The Jack Spratt nursery rhyme goes, “Jack Spratt could eat no fat. His wife could eat no lean. And so between the two of them, they licked the platter clean.”

It feels to him like they’re living in a modern version of that, with heat substituted for food. She needs the high heat. He’s fine barefoot and in a light sweater, the heat at 66 F. They put the heater on for her even as she dons more and more layers of clothes, and he strips down.

It’s like, “Mike S doesn’t feel the cold, his wife could feel no heating. And so between the two of them, he sweats as she is freezing.”

December 20, 2022 0

Sunday’s Wandering Thought

He read the coffee shop’s employee instructions for washing their hands. This was in the restroom. The final step of their hygiene guidance was to use a paper towel to turn off the water. These were part of the instructions posted on an air dryer. The restroom had no paper towels.

It struck him as funny that they stopped with turning off the water using a paper towel which wasn’t available and didn’t mention opening the door. With what were the employees to seize the handle? Apparently, the door handle was safe, where the water handle was not.

December 18, 2022 6

Sunday’s Theme Music

Sunshine is blending the clouds and blue skies into sweet fall melange. Winter temperatures jumped into the blend last night, taking us to 29 F. Up to 34 F now — feels like 3 C, the weather machines tell me — but it’ll rise up to 55 F later.

This is Sunday, November 20, 2022, the final Sunday before Thanksgiving celebrations begin and Black Friday officially starts. Our sun came around to see how we’re doing this morning at 7:07 and will abandon us like an old milk box at 4:45 this afternoon.

My latest flu & COVID vaccinations worked me over a bit yesterday. Squeezed my energy until I was an empty toothpaste roll. Hammered muscles into aching submission whether I moved or stayed still, and fossilized my joints. The cherry on top was a headache that circled front to back and up and down my cranium like it was trying to improve reception. Appetite remained great, but my mind was murky as coal mine slurry — Wordle was no fun — but bowel movements were unaffected. That was me in a webisode. All day was spent eating, writing, reading, and napping. So, not much difference from the usual.

Now I feel better than I did before the shots. What a difference twenty-four little hours can deliver.

The Neurons are all over that comment about a difference brought on by twenty-four hours. They’ve activated the morning mental music stream. The featured song is “What a Diff’rence a Day Makes” by Dinah Washington from 1959. I’m going instead with the upbeat version delivered by Esther Phillips. Her voice is so distinctive that it’s hardwired into memory. What isn’t hardwired is when song came out. Turned out to be 1975 according to the Wikipedia gang. I also learned that Esther Phillips died when she was 48, brought down by kidney and liver issues caused by drug abuse.

Must dash now. A cat is calling, and I am a flooftouch. Cup of coffee is also serenading me and you know it would be unkind to not say hello and spend some time with it. Stay positive, test negative, get vaxxes as needed. Here we go, Sunday, here we go.

Cheers

November 20, 2022 0

Thursday’s Wandering Thought

His diet amounted to the foods he chose for his health, things his body craved, and then the comfort foods for when his body says, “Hey, it was bad day. How ‘bout some carbs?”