Category: Information

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.”

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Monday’s Theme Music

Long, thin shadows slash the ground as sunshine creeps out of the mists like a forgotten movie star. Monday has come on us again, regular as a calendar. It’s December 19, 2022, and the southern Oregon temperature hovers at 27 degrees F. The sunny disposition of the twenty-four-hour cycle commenced at 7:35 this morning and will be completed with the sun’s turning away at 4:41 this PM. These are colder days than we’re used to, on average. It’s 27 F now, but we’re used to the bottom being 31 F. The highs are closer to average, 46, and that’s what we’ll see today. But this extended period of temperatures dipping into the low to mid-twenties is a winter flavor that we taste in the winter months, but not every day, and it’s not winning me over as other things that I taste every day has done, such as coffee. It’s not like the cold temperatures are delivering some wonderful winter scenes of snow to give it that holiday feel. No, autumn colors have fled. Although grasses are green, the annuals are brown and naked. The land just looks weary.

Yeah, in a darker place today, a culmination of matters which really don’t matter, but try telling that to your brain and emotions, yeah? Yeah. Has me thinking of 1991. 1991 was a transition year for me, coming back from Europe to the U.S., and re-developing my relationship with American culture. 1991 seems like yesterday, as does 1985, and 1975, and many other years, but are all receding further into my past.

Today’s reflective, melancholy mélange has The Neurons playing a 1991 tune by Yes called “Lift Me Up”. Music groups have their own life cycles and Yes has a long, complicated existence. Two versions of Yes as a group were out there for a while, arguing over the right to be Yes. This song is off an album called Union with songs from both Yes factions. It was a real Yes mess but I like this Yes song. It has the usual progressive nuances which occupy every Yes song. Hope you enjoy it and it does a memory thingy for you as it has for me.

Stay pos and test neg. Endure and get on through the lows and highs, however much they swallow and lift you. Now, where is my coffee? It feels like a coffee day. Of course, so does every day, IMO. Here’s the 1991 music, courtesy of 2022 technology and commerce. Cheers

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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.

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A Dad Dream

I was at some wildly busy location, flitting between meeting people, attending parties, eating foods — especially desserts — and working on some new business.

I’d arrived there via a large, black and shiny car provided by my father. The car was luxurious, expensive, and impressive. After hunting for a parking space, I double-parked on the street because I was late. Promising myself to come back soon to move the car because I might be blocking another in, I rushed into the complex. Piles of food were on tables, and I was urged to eat. I did eat some finger food, and a small bit of dessert, just to be nice, I told them, all of us laughing. The food was fantastic, so I had a little more and then went on to meet with others.

I encountered Dad. He was involved in some new business venture. To support his business plan, he’d developed a table of projected aggregate growth and had me look it over. I did, then went to meet with his potential backers.

The backers’ side, people who were going to fund Dad’s business, included my mentor. The mentor — never actually seen in the dream but heard from via others — had worked up numbers for Dad’s new business, too. The numbers between the two camps were grossly different. The two sides used me as an intermediary to bridge the differences. I mostly dealt with Dad, telling him again and again that my mentor thought Dad’s numbers were overly optimistic. We argued the venture’s fine points. I wanted to see his business plan but piqued, he refused to show me. He wouldn’t even tell me what the business was about, annoying me.

I went back to the mentor and spoke to an assistant, explaining Dad’s logic, defending it, really, and then asked to see their plans and projections. They wouldn’t let me have them and sent me back to Dad.

I returned to my car to move it, but there still wasn’t anywhere else to put it. I needed to leave it there, which worried me, but another person, a stranger to me, assured me it was fine and not to worry about it. I put the car out of mind.

I went back to Dad. He and my mentor were going to meet later. Dad told me to check into my room, clean up and rest so that I could join them later.

I went outside to a huge round bricked plaza. Great crowds of people prowled and socialized there because some convention was going on. Finding the front desk, I was given my room key. It was round, with concentric wheels of numbers on it. Each wheel of numbers told me where I was to go to find my room, starting with the outer wheel. The numbers were all in gold but used different fonts. As I looked at the wheel, a smiling man sitting in a chair, holding a drink, legs crossed, told me that the outer wheel’s numbers referred to the stairs to use. He then explained in an aside to a woman sitting beside him that the keys often confused newcomers.

But I knew how to use the key and told him. The outer gold letters were 4-2. I went off and found the stairs labeled 4-2. Before I went up to my room, though, Dad came and gave me his business plan to look over. Sitting down, I discovered that he’d hugely scaled it down from what he’d told me. It seemed like a completely different idea from what he’d explained, too. This had to do with some kind of ice cream confectionary shop that served other food with the ice cream. They were going to start with twenty shops in seven locations.

The changes dismayed me. I warned him that competition already existed doing what he proposed, and that his plan wasn’t as unique or revolutionary as he seemed to think. He was unfazed because the mentor had told him it was a good idea, and they were going to proceed. I was summoned to go eat, so I left it at that and went to find my table.

Dream end.

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Floofstack

Floofstack (floofinition) – 1. A pile of animals sleeping or playing together, or animals side by side or nose to tail.

In use: “Colder days brought the animals into a floofstack as they sought warmer spaces, decided other warm bodies weren’t bad, and put aside disagreements in comfort’s name.

2. An accumulation of activities needed to be done that were delayed because of animals.

In use: “Barb had a dozen things she planned to do on the computer but it was like every household animal was given the word, because all of them came in asking her for things and she soon faced a floofstack as other tasks were added.”

3. A list of actions needed to be done for animals.

In use: “With a household full of critters, Stacy and her children had a constant floofstack to work down, beginning with morning feedings and cleaning food and water bowls and refilling them, to walking animals, and cleaning cages and kitty litter boxes.”

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Saturday’s Theme Music

-2 degrees C. Sunshine soaks everything in sight. Two runners in cold suits run up the street. It’s a tough hill, so I am impressed, especially in this weather. Then I pour coffee and sip, reflecting, I used to do that stuff.

I was thinking about issuing an NTF about me and things I’ve never done or been. I can be a superhero, rock star, astronaut, and other things I fantasized about becoming as a child. It can be a good way to make some extra cash, if I can bring some buyers to the table. That’ll be a task worthy of Hercules. I’ll also need an artist to make me prettier and clean up my looks. But it’s a good winter project.

It’s Saturday, December 17, 2022. The countdown to winter solstice has accelerated. Oh, yeah, other holidays are under way or approaching, too. We like to celebrate solstice with mulled wine, soup, bread and salads. Then we burn a log, write our wishes on little scraps of paper, tie them with string or ribbon, and burn them. Hasn’t really worked as far as granting wishes, but it’s a hopeful and joyous evening. The company and wine is good, too.

While it’s below freezing now, we expect a high of 42 F. Sunrise, when this shine was unleashed on us, 7:34 this morning and daylight’s ebb will fall on us at 4:40. And so it goes. Last night had a solid moon out there and lots of moonshine. I can only wonder about what was going on in the shadows. The cats showed little interest in leaving for change, until 5:37 this morning, when Papi said, I must go out and make my rounds. I’m thinking about issuing an NTF of my cats, too. There will probably be more buyers for them. Maybe if I put my cats in my NTFs, like I’m a muscular handsome superhero carrying my cats. Will that work?

I have the song, “Season of the Witch” by Donovan in my mind, a song which was released in the mid sixties. How’d this come about, you ask. Why do you have that song in your head? Well, that was about looking out the window. As I sipped coffee and contemplated the other side of the pane, Der Neurons began the lyrics, “When I look out my window. what do you think I see? And when I look in my window, so many different people to be. It’s strange, sure is strange.” So there we go. So many recent events might evaporate out of my head and bits of knowledge challenges my recall, but my mind can pull Donovan lyrics from almost sixty years ago.

Going in for another cuppa coffee and a bagel. Stay pos and test negative. Dress appropriately for the weather wherever you are, and whatever weather which you weather. Here’s the music. It’s a typical Donovan style tune. Enjoy Saturday. Cheers

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Friday’s Wandering Thought

He found a bank card in an ATM. The machine was beeping and asking, “Are you done with your transaction?” No one else was around so he took the card into the bank and turned it over to a teller, telling them where he’d found it. As he was leaving, he heard people saying, “Oh, what a nice man.”

That surprised him. What else would you do with anything found but try to get it back to the owner in the best way possible?

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An In-Law Dream

My Mother- and Father-in-law, both deceased, showed up in my dream last night, along with Dad, who is alive. I was young and with my in-laws at their house, along with Dad, who was visiting. I was outside when I turned and looked at their house. This dream house was nothing like any of the homes they lived in dring the time I knew them. They had changed this house, though, installing a flat front facade in a deep slate blue color that really appealed to me. I complimented them on the color change, enthusing about it. They then added a flat white latticed gate, which popped again the blue. Whole thing came across as stylish, modern, and sharp, which, honestly, counters their RL simple country style. Dad was helping with the gate. As they finished, I walked over and checked it out. I discovered two machine head screws at the bottom sticking out of the gate.

I complained about the screws sticking out, chiding them about not finishing in a joking way that we’d shared with one another throughout my adult hood. Dad and FIL replied that the screws were fine. But I went over to finish screwing them in. When I applied pressure, the screws slid in without any resistance. I said, “There’s nothing behind these screws. They won’t help at all.” They ignored that and walked off.

Dream shift, we’re inside, playing some silly game tossing a ball around that none of the others would ever do in RL. None were ever silly that way around me. I was back in the right corner, which had a hallway leading to another area. The walls were pale green. I began examining them more closely and discovered mold growing on the walls. I pointed this out to them and said that something needs to be done. When none of the rest responded, I began cleaning them.

Another dream shift found me outside again, in my pajamas. Bright sunshine lit the broad fields and short bushes. I knew it was mid-afternoon. Someone kicked a football around. I decided to go out and play. My FIL said as an aside that someone serious about it would not be barefoot and in their pajamas. Ignoring him, I went out after the ball. It bounced behind me. Catching it on a bounce, I raced across the field. A small girl in pink pajamas attempted to tackle me. She had no chance but I didn’t want to hurt her so I stopped and let get me.

Dream end.

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The Writing Moment

It’d been an eyeblink. He’d been writing like crazy. He swears that he felt like he just sat down and opened the docs, delving into the novel, picking up the pieces of where he is and where he was going.

Coffee remains in his cup, but it is cold. This is an icy day, and the cold coffee doesn’t entice him. His rear end resents the chair’s hard seat. He has no idea how much he wrote and revised. Three more chapters were added and edited, other sections put under the editing grinder and polished, ensuring these new pieces fit smoothly as possible for this draft.

Time to stand up, stretch, and breathe. Back to life.

Back to reality.

He smiled as The Neurons remembered that song and stuck in his music stream. Fortunately, coffee shop music flowed in and overpowered the Soul II Soul song.

He wondered, though, will it show up in tomorrow’s morning mental music stream?

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