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

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?

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.

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?

Makes Me Wonder

News came that a man has successfully removed over one hundred books from school libraries. This is in Florida. He’d moved there earlier in the year and then began challenging books. See, he didn’t want them in the school’s library. Either they offended his reading tastes or they included sex, and he didn’t approve, and didn’t want his child to be able to pick one up. This one man is dictating, through Florida’s ridiculous laws regarding books and their zany laws about sexual preferences or genders other than straight up between one man and one woman — and they should be married and in a stable relationship, I infer from his comments and news reports — then they shouldn’t be in his school library. Because, you know, his child might pick it up and read it, and then, flash, OMG, what will they become?

Oh, yeah, he hasn’t totally read those books which he demands to have removed. He knows enough, see? No need to read the entire book. Could there be any redeeming reasons beyond sex to read a book? Why, of course not. That offending sex ruins the ret of the book.

I guess that’s what he’s thinking, as it’s solely on that one aspect that this fine Christian is having books challenged and removed.

One of the books that he hasn’t read which he wants to have removed is a YA graphic novel, The Girl from the Sea, by Molly Knox Ostertag. Curious about it, I went searching for more and found an excellent Advocate story about Ostertag and her graphic novel. Besides comments from Ostertag, Advocate includes several pages of The Girl from the Sea. It is funny and sweet, and I want to read more. Fortunately, it’s available at my county’s library. I’ve joined the waiting list of people wishing to read it.

Here’s a link to the Advocate so you can check it out.

Molly Knox Ostertag Talks Queer YA Visibility in The Girl from the Sea

By the way, there’s no sex in this YA work. Nor is there nudity or swearing. Just one kiss between two girls. That’s what offends this man.

In case you’re wondering.

Wednesday’s Wandering Thought

His reflection from the mirror startled him. He looked just like an Oompa-Loompa from Charley and the Chocolate Factory.

Just one of those days, he told himself with a suppressed sigh.

Burgers and Beer Dream

The dream found my wife and me on vacation at a seaside resort. Throngs of people enjoyed warm and sunny weather as a festival proceeded. Bands played and people sang. Many milled about, going from one spectacle to another.

We broke out of our small luxury place on the main boulevard and proceeded down the seaside promenade where the main events were taken place. Sunshine teased blue wavelets and gulls wheeled above. What struck me dumb was wherever I went, crowds so that I was never bothered by the numbers, never needed to wait in line, and was never stopped unless I wanted to be stopped.

We returned to our room because we needed to dress for dinner. Dinner plans were unsettled but we were meeting others. Our suite had a living room with large windows. Strangers were gathered there, along with an employee, a big bluff, graying hair white guy. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail. We conversed about who we are and who we’d been. A dark-haired white woman with red lipstick wearing a dress that matched her lips sat in a blue accent chair listening. He and I ended up talking about cats as I discovered that he had a cat on a leash. I told him about a RL trap, neuter, and spay project I’d participated in during one duty assignment. Then I told everyone that they needed to leave because I needed to shower and change clothes. The woman in red stood up and kissed my cheek, thanking me for helping cats, and then she and everyone else left.

I went into the other room, showered and changed. When I came out, my wife and her sister were sitting on the sofa. They told me that they didn’t want to go out. They didn’t feel like dressing up and were worn out by the day. How ’bout if we called room service and just had burgers and beers with fries in the room. That worked for me.

Dream end.

Tempting Tuesday’s Theme Music

Misty and 25 degrees F. Graylight bangs in through the windows. Gray stillness enthralls the landscape.

The cold outside works with the moment to tempt my spirit to cozy up under my duvet and covers and just hang tight in that warm cocoon for just a little longer, perhaps until March. The mists rule beyond a few hundred feet, depriving me of any mountain views. As far as I know, the lip of the world’s end is just over on the next street.

This is Tuesday, December 13, 2022. Not much of a holiday vibe rings the air. Sure, there’s Christmas music on store speakers. Holiday music thrills the coffee house ambiance off and on through the hours. Stores have some holiday items on display but overall, it feels like the holiday launch was premature and already peaked. Now we’re just waiting for the finale and the curtain fall so we can applaud and go on to the next big thing. Perhaps this is only my sentiments. Not many people seem jolly. Anxious is more how I’d color them. Anxious and tired.

It’s going to be 46 F as a high today. Of course, these are the same weather geniuses telling me that it’s sunny out there. Maybe it’s same zip code, different worlds. Sunrise entered at 7:31 but it was already light throughout the house by then. It seems like daylight is already showing up earlier in the morning. The sun show will end shortly before dark.

Freedom is on my mind this morning. I often feel constrained. Most of this is my own doing as I set up schedules to write, eat, exercise, and relax. Cats (2) and wife (1) add to this constraint, by their needs and wants. So does house and car mischief and the business of residing in the U.S. So I chaff. Even so, I know others have it much, much worse. It’s a fascinating thing, a web of emotions, logic, and expectations. Not complaining, I protest, just stating it as I see it.

The Neurons noted my subject on their radar. Their response was adding “Freedom! ’90” by George Michaels to the morning mental music stream. The song is about freedom and reflects his feeling that he’d lost freedom because of his stardom. Cry me a sea, right? But many celebrities end up on Michaels’ path, lamenting what success has done to their privacy. It’s a tricky labyrinth to follow, but that’s seen in most endeavors attempted where success is found. Success pulls admiration and brings more pressure to succeed and be. It ends up like golden handcuffs.

Now, I knew this song when it came out in 1990. Heard it on the radio all the time. Knew of Michaels and his success. But I’d never seen the video associated with the song. Seeing it today, I read more about Michaels’ reflections and frustration with success and freedom.

I know, waa-ville. Okay, I accept that. Stay positive and test negative. I’m up for a cup of coffee now. The cats are with me. Not that they’ll be having coffee — I shudder to think of them hopped up on caffeine — I mean, woof — but they’ll accompany me as I leave the office, make the brew, etc.

Here’s the tune. Hope your Tuesday works out well. Cheers

Flooftine

Flooftine (floofinition) – A regular course of action established by one or more animal’s needs, habits, practices.

In use: “Like many people with pets, Gina discovered her activities prescribed by flooftines. The dogs’ flooftines were manageable because the dogs were more accommodating and willing to bend their flooftines to Gina’s routines. But that cat, Loki, honored no one’s orders but his own, rising at three AM to gallop around, eat, and then waking the others to feed or play with him. Lokie’s flooftines were disruptive.”

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