It’s the next to last day of February – Wednesday, 2/28/24. Sunshine came through when I went through the house opening the blinds. The furnace was running. Alexa told me it was 30 F out and the high today would be 57 F. Snow collected like dcorators had spray painted the mountains’ shadowy green firs and pines. A few minutes later, clouds had supplanted the sunshine and the trees had lost their lacy white clothing. This is Ashlandia weather. It’s Oregon weather.
Winter storm warnings are out. Rain is coming. Colder temperatures. Snow, depending on your elevation, but the weather people claim we’ll probably get snow on the valley floof. Certainly folks located at 2,000 feet, like our place, will see some.
The house floofs are unconcerned. Tucker has sacked himself in front of the office space heater that my wife uses to fry herself. Papi, being young, is in washing and wandering around. He just peeked in around the door to see what I was doing, gave his belly a few tongues lashes, and left. Guess I was boring to him.
On Tucker’s part, he’s on meds to get his hyperactive thyroid under control. Dental surgery is planned for him at the end of March. He suffers from stomatitis gingivitis. He’d already lost two of his fangs; I found a third one on the bedroom carpet this week. Only one remains. My poor buddy.
I have Linkin Park’s song “In the End” in my morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). The Neurons were inspired to play it for me after reading that the song is RIAA Diamond Certified. Released in 2001, they’ve now sold over 10,000,000 copies. Well done, gang. I enjoy the song, about trying hard, time, and how life is affected by your effort.
A word on Sen. Mitch McConnell stepping down from his GOP leadership position. One, about damn time. Two, yes, well he is 82. Three, he’s leaving behind a rich legacy of obstruction and hypocrisy, and can claim some ownership of the mess the GOP has become under his leadership. History will have a sharp tongue about him.
Stay positive, be strong. Lean forward. Vote. And have a coffee. I am. Here’s the music. Cheers
‘Brrr’ cold covers Tuesday morning’s description. It’s February 27, 2024. Feb 31 is just around the corner (not really). Spring is too, in theory, but winter is saying, put me in, coach. 30 F when I slunk out of bed, our temperature eventually chugged up to the mid-forties but it didn’t feel warm. Even comfortably furred floofies said no thank you to the scattered clouds and tepid sunshine owning the morning. Returning to the inside, they situated themselves in comfortable warm places, said good night to daylight, and went to sleep.
My wife and I went running around this morning. A late morning breakfast at the excellent Sweet Beet Station in Talent, Oregon, and then over to Quality Paperbacks, where we picked up another half dozen books, because the waiting to read pile can never be too big. Then to a few stores for a couple items, and here I am, starting my writing day in the mid-afternoon.
The floofs inspired The Neurons’ song choice this morning. As they clamored for their morning meal, I told them to take it easy, I’d be with them in a minute, but some things were needed to be done ahead of time. These things TBDone including mixing up Tucker’s medical slurry. While I was doing that, West and Petty’s electrified guitars lit up the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks).
In truth, I think the song was lurking beneath my mind’s covers, waiting for a chance to leap up. After all, Petty sings about an “American girl raised on promises.” This is an era of promise and denial in America IMO. Like, yes, being told that women have equal rights under the Constitution only to have those rights stripped away by a right wing trying to force its religion on the rest of us. I’m talking about abortion, of course and the Dobbs decision overruling women’s right to take care of themselves in favor of something growing inside them. It may be 2024, but the logic of 1984 is gaining strength. Take Texas, for example.
Sorry, politics just keep bubbling up in my thinking. I’ll try to keep it contained.
BTW, “American Girl” was the last song Tom Petty performed in concert before he passed away.
Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and vote, please. Here’s the music. Cheers
Rain is bashing Monday’s windows in Ashlandia, where the beer is above average. Today is the 26th of Feb, 2024. We closing in on March. Winter has begun an offensive to take back its season in our area. Today’s high was 42 F, reached about an hour ago. Now it’s 40 and is expected to drop to 29 F. A winter storm advisory or watch or something is in effect until tomorrow. The cats are dissatisfied with this state of play. Both wanted out. Tucker returned shortly. Papi is matloafing out there under the patio’s protection, staring at the rain with slitted eyes. Either he’s drifting to sleep or he’s sending stinging eye messages to nature to stop this now.
Looking out, my wife proclaims, “It definitely looks like it wants to snow.”
Found myself with “How to Save A Life” by The Fray from 2006 in the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). The Neurons aren’t owning up to why the song is being played. I don’t recall the last time I heard the song but the adult contemporary rock tune seems to stay popular with FM radio station and can also be heard time to time on streaming radio and satellite venues. Not a bad song but it sounds quit a bit like their other big hit, “Over My Head”. “How to Save A Life” has been used a number of times on television shows, so we’ll always have repeats to hear it again. Nothing wrong with that.
Papi is back in. The temp has dropped to 36 F. Rain fails. Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, vote. I’m also drinking coffee, so I have that going for me. Here’s the music, and here we go.
Sunshine began early on this Saturday, hunting out the cracks between the blind slats and dispatching the dark. I raised the blinds to enjoy the full performance, comforted by warmth and light as the sun worked is way over the mountains and trees and through my southern windows, eventally engulfing the eastern views, too.
55 F now, it’s 02242024 today. No clouds darken our blue skies. Views to the mountains are clear as day… Today’s high is s’posed to be 62 F. Yesterday we saw 65 F, so I think something over 62 might be possible. Hard to say, though. The weather is fickle as a young floof. And snow is on the way next week. We won’t hold our breath but we will keep a weather eye out.
Today’s music comes by way of Jill Dennison’s choice. She had Stevie Wonder performing “Superstition” on Tom Jones’ TV show. I thought of Stevie Ray Vaughn’s cover of “Superstition” with Double Trouble. Naturally Les Neurons cranked it up in the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks), almost overcoming a song already in the MMMS. But then someone else commented on Jill’s site, mentioning Stevie Ray. That sold the song’s place as today’s theme music.
Hope you have fine weather for what you’re doing today. Be strong, stay positive, keep leaning forward, and vote when you can. Here’s the music. Coffee has already found its home in my body.
Hello, my fellow voyagers. (Pause: made me think of an old series, “Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea”. No, that’s not where we’re going, fingers crossed, knock wood. But do you remember the Irwin Allen series?)
Today is Friday, 02232024. Outside bubbles with spring-like sunshine under a clear blue sky and a gentle, friendly wind. Things are blooming and green is showing up. Snow? Sadly, no snow in our area. 57 F now, that’s what was called out as the high, so we may see warmer late afternoon temperatures.
Think the floofs are happy? You betcha. This warm stuff has Papi galloping around like a youngster. Tucker watches the other, plotting moves by the look in his eyes, but instead, he faces the sun and washes his gleaming white and black fur in the sunshine.
Read a lot of news and politics this morning but I’ve decided to veer away from those things for the day. The Neurons are feeding the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks) with The Replacements and their ripping song, “Can’t Hardly Wait”. Good driving beat to the song.
First, it was triggered by an episode of The Bear a couple weeks ago, taking me back to 1987, when I first heard it. During that period, I was stationed in South Carolina but heading to Egypt for six weeks of some fun in the sand. The Neurons returned it to me by a single line, “I’ll be home when I’m sleeping,” itself triggered from a dream trilogy.
The Egyptian experience was definitely memorable. Besides visiting the Pyramids and Sphinx, and meeting many lovely citizens of that nation, there was the experience of solar cooking our MREs on the tops of tents and coping with duststorms and scorpions. Best, I think, though, was the daily shower experience. Lining up across the desert as the sun rose found us shivering. We’d file into the shower tent so many at a time, strip down, and stand around a pole with six shower heads. Then hot water on for three minutes to wet down. Another minute off for soaping up, and then another minute to rinse off. Then dry and dress and walk back across the dusty, sandy desert to stow your gear and head to the chow tent for some freshly reconstituted powdered eggs.
Later in the day, the bombing runs would begin with various fighter and bombers coming in low and fast to pretend they’re attacking our camp. A little noisy, yes.
Stay positive, remain strong, lean forward, and vote, and I’ll do the same. But first, coffee! Here’s the music. Seize the day, my friends. Cheers
While it’s Thursday, February 22, 2024, the weather has twisted toward spring here in Ashlandia in southern Oregon. Winds be blowing with a wintry taste but sunshine blinds the eyes and blue sky mixes it up with piecemeal white and gray clouds. None of the clouds are large but they can be something if they unite and stay together.
It’s 54 F now after mid 30s as our overnight lows, and will tweak a few more degrees north of the current temp. The cats are not happy with the situation. “It’s the wind,” they complain. “Too much damn wind for our whiskers.”
The house painting is done and the bill is paid. $7650. Looks fab, though, and we’re happy with it, so I guess it’s worth it.
The Neurons have infiltrated the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks) with some Rush flavored prog rock, aka progressive rock or prock. Today’s song is “New World Man” from 1982. I can’t find the roots of its presence in the MMMS, only that sometime while I was in the kitchen after feeding the floof boys, that song was in my head as I prepped my brekkie. It’s a song I know from a military co-worker on Okinawa. Rush music was a big staple of his listening hoard. He considered them severely underrated and unappreciated.
Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and vote. That’s all we ask of you; is that so much? I hope not. Coffee has been served and sampled. Here we go, into the winds of a new day. And here’s the music. Cheers
Hey guys, here we are, on Wednesday, 02212024. Or 21022024. Or 20240221. All are right, depending on your region, or maybe your profession.
Sprinter has popped back into Ashlandia. Dollops of gray clouds drop rain that glisten with sunshine. Everything is blooming. Snow? What is this thing called snow? Describe it for me, please. Amendment: that was snark. There’s some snow on the mountains shadowing our valley.
It’s 46 F now, and we’re projected to progress to 57 F before the sun pulls the shades on the day and the weather unplugs the warmth. 36 F will be our low tonight. Not bad.
I’m into GOP politics today. Trump’s changing stories about the classified documents he wouldn’t give up keeps me laughing. There were no classified documents because he declassified them, he said at first. Oh, wait, the FBI planted it there.No, no, I didn’t have to turn it over he’s saying now, and we were talking about turning them over when the FBI raided Mar-a-largo. Which, if we follow his thinking, means there were classified documents which he hadn’t turned over, so he lied from the start. And it was protected better than Biden’s classified documents, which is irrelevant, and shows again, that there were classified materials which he didn’t turn over. Doesn’t matter how protected he claims the classified documents were. The point is, he wasn’t supposed to have them, was supposed to return them, tried to hide them, and continually lied about them.
His continuing spin is worthy of a soap opera. “As the Trump Turns” or “General Bullshit”, we can call his shitshow. Who in their right mind will believe these shifting sands of explanations?
Well, I wrote, ‘in their right mind’. That eliminates many GOP members, politicians, and supporters. Take for instance, the state of play with electing and retaining a speaker. The maniac arm of the MAGA GOP make it a point of contention to turn down any bill or measure that might be actual governing, and then forced Speaker McCarthy out after he so desperately pursued the office. Now Mike Johnson has taken over and faces the same demonic situation. Then these fine representatives blamed everyone else for the mayhem they keep causing.
For example, look at the immigration issue. The GOP and their supporters are supposedly up in arms about that problem. GOP state governors are declaring that President Biden and the Democrats aren’t doing enough, even as GOP governors illegally block the Federal government from taking action. Meanwhile, back on Capitol Hill, a bi-partisan bill was created only to have the Speaker and the maniacs withdraw support on orders from Dear Leader, Donald Trump. All but Trump supporters see through this play. Trump and the spineless GOP don’t want an effective answer for the immigration issue and the southern border at this time. Yet one of the maniacs, Marjorie Taylor Green, predictably steps up to complain nothing is being done even after she voted to do nothing.
Their hypocrisy is breathtaking but not surprising. The Trump GOP thrives on selling fear on the issue to their supporters. If a bill is passed, that makes President Biden and the Democrats look effective. The GOP can’t do that! That’s about the single issue they can depend on at this point to keep supporters in line because they’ve fucked themselves with complete abortion bans and the persecution of women for daring to try to make decisions about their own bodies. Now they’re fucking themselves over supporting NATO and the Ukraine. They’re abandoning everything the United States became after WWII.
If you didn’t understand it before, understand it now. The Trump GOP is not progressive. Throwbacks to the Nazi Germany era, the Trump GOP is willing to support a dictator on the basis of no other position but to stay in power. They fear everyone but whites. They even attack powerful women — say a young singer like Taylor Swift, to name one of many women they’ve attacked under Trump — and are eager to shut everyone down except white men, especially wealthy white men. They love themselves wealthy white men and bend over to fuck themselves if they can help wealthy white men. That wealthy white men will save the world is the foundation of their trickledown theory of government.
We shouldn’t be surprised. White ‘Christians’ are one of the GOP’s largest sects. They’ve been afraid of Jews since before WWII and have been eager to undermine democracy in order to stop the Jews. All this is fed by baseless conspiracies. The GOP, as it’s evolved, has depended more and more upon unfounded conspiracy theories to garner support. Are we witnessing its zenith as they support the baseless lies — proven in US courts — that Donald Trump had the election stolen from him, and that they government is actually being run by a shadow government? What happens in the elections of 2024 will reveal much about the GOP and the foundations of democratic republic known as the United States.
With all this happening, The Neurons started singing, “Don’t mess with a MAGA man,” this morning. Up popped the Eurythmics with “Missionary Man” (1986) in the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). It’s an ironic use by The Neurons as they chuckle at the GOP white christians and evangelicals declare that the serial sinner, liar, and adulterer known as Donald J. Trump, a very wealthy man who hoards his wealth and hates any and all who dare criticize him, threatening violence at every turn, is God’s chosen to lead the United States. I need to ask, lead the United States into what? At any rate, to return to the song, GOP politicians at every level eagerly support the MAGA man and dare the rest of us to mess with him.
Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and please vote. Here’s the music. Coffee guzzling has commenced. On to other writing. Cheers
I’ve always dreamed of houses, though I think those sort of dreams have tapered off in the last ten years. I had one again last night, though.
And it was confusing. A wealthy family was staying in this large and luxurious white house. My wife was with me, and we were young, and also staying there.
The house was for sale. It featured many layers set up in a cubist manner with steps connecting the square or rectangular rooms and halls. Exhibiting something of a mobious to the design (yes, kind of like M.C. Escher art), I found I could be in one end in a bedroom (there were many en suite bedrooms) and step one way and be on another level, in another room, on the building’s other end. Resolving to understand how it worked, I went about the house until I thought I’d gone through every room and knew my way around, and then started taking my wife around to show her.
Although the house was huge and way too large for us, I liked several of the rooms and rhetorically discussed with her which I liked. I speculated, too, on which room I would use as an office to write. Two really attracted me. I felt that both were too large. One had a bathroom and I thought that would be good to have. But because of the house’s design, people would sometimes need to walk through that room to reach other parts. Thinking that a disadvantage, I returned to the other room.
While this was happening, it was announced that the house had been sold. We wondered who bought it. The family staying there were’t the owners. We rarely encountered the parents, usually spying them walking through the house from a distance, but we frequently ran into the children. Early teenagers, they were rambunctious, mindless, wasteful, and destructive.
Going back to the other room that could be my office, my wife and I got in bed. The bed was just a mattress on legs, without head or foot boards, and there was no other furniture. I spooned her, pulled thick blankets up to our necks, and napped.
Some hubbub in another room woke us, pulling our attention. I went to see what was going on. Things had been damaged in another room. To be blunt, it was wrecked. I felt certain it was one of the male teenagers, because I’d seen him in that area with some of the damaged furniture, glassware, etc. So I told them what I’d seen before. He denied it but under questioning from his parents, with me pointing out some things, he confessed to what he did. As I walked away from this, I took more notice of that room. Its floor was white. I discovered one end had a raised circular dias, also white, and decided the room was set up as a party room, and that was a place where a small band could play. The room had a cutout running the length of a long wall and I speculated that the band could be playing on that platform or dias and be heard and seen from other rooms.
The dream ended with someone presenting me with a new car, a white Ferarri. Brand new, I admired the car but I dislike white cars. Thinking it would be rude to turn it down, I accepted the car. The last of the dream showed me getting into the car.
What intrigued me most about the dream when I awoke and thought about it was it similarity to a house I often dreamed of decades again. A recurring dream, I had a white house in a small town. When I explored that white dream house, I would discover doors to rooms and sections which I didn’t know I had. Sometimes other families would be living in those sections, leaving me confused about whether I owned it. But I also found myself in that house going to the house’s lowest realm, turning a corner, stepping through the door, and finding me back on the top, on the other end, just as in last night’s dream.
The other thing about both dreams is that these white houses were on the coast, looking out over blue ocean.
Rain and wuthering rule Monday, Feb. 19, 2024 in Ashlandia, where the roads are average and the people can be nice. 52 F now, circumstances have aligned to deliver 56 F. Rain falls in short showers, and sunshine sometimes clear through the layered cloud cake to brighten the scene. Mainly, though, it’s wind and rain.
You probably know the weather situation annoys the home floofs. How can you expect us to go out in this weather and be wild animals, they complain. Do something about it.
“Would if I could,” I tell them, “but the door game must cease. Here, have a treat.”
“Thanks,” they grumble, devouring treats. “More. Come on, don’t hold back, it’s rainy and windy. More treats! We deserve them.”
With his improved health, Tucker shows more interest in Papi, displeasing to Papi. Papi starts past; Tucker heads for him. Papi breaks into a short gambol. Tucker attempts to give chase. His mind is game but his elderly joints and muscles call, “Hey, take a chill pill.”
Today’s theme song comes from things happening to others. The phrase, “What would you do in my place?” comes up. Out of that comes The Neurons with Coldplay performer “In My Place” in the morning mental music stream. This 2002 melding of vocals and instruments is heavy with regretful wonder, just like the people I communicated with. Not a bad song, but it wore out its welcome with me for a while. Commuting along highway 101 and Interstate 280, and various expressways, the song found frequent radio time for a while after its release and became one that often prompted me to change the channel. It just happens sometimes.
Be strong, stay positive, keep leaning forward, and for the love of democracy, please vote. Coffee — second cup — pulled up. Time to sip and write. Here’s the music. Cheers
This Saturday, Feb 17, 2024, is meh again. Like a giant gray spaceship is hovering above us, blotting out the natural sky and sunshine. Rain has begun streaking the windows again. The wind’s been gusting all morning, as if a giant wind machine has been turned onto four. There are eleven settings for the machine, of course.
It’s 54 F now. We’re closing on 1 PM. 56 F will be our high. Another late start to posting, caused again by reading (fiction and non-fiction books, along with netnews), and writing my own fiction. Had to read more stories about Trump travails. His rages about (fill in the space). Rage, lying, hating, he’s commendably capable of those three things and demonstrates them often.
Tucker is doing much better today. I reduced his pain med, and he’s adjusting, as they suggested he would. So happy to see that.
Papi is not happy today. After being denied permission to go out from dusk to dawn, I let him out this morning only for him to encounter the wind. When it finally reduced its strength, rain moved in. Papi no like wind and rain.
I’m not crowing about the NY fraud judgement against Trump. From what I read, justice has been served, though I know how malleable justice can be. My wife raged yesterday about Trump’s immunity matter. In her opinion, something like that should’ve been answered post haste. “The Supreme Court should have already said that nobody is above prosecution for crimes.” Slam dunk to her, with no offramp for any reason.
So why haven’t the Supremes acted? Why are they stalling, she demands. Well, we know much about this court by now, and Roberts’s concern about his legacy. And several of the Supremes were plugged into the court as Trump’s choice. What happens if they rule against him? There will probably be death threats against them and even possibly protests at the court or at their homes. My wife and I think they’re very worried about those matters. But to rule that Trump is immune seems hugely unthinkable. Yes, it’s high drama.
Musically, I read that the Beach Boys began recording the song, “Good Vibrations” on this date in 1966. Ten years old, I connected with this song as soon as it came out later that year, so without the need for much comment, I’ll tell you that The Neurons immediately put it on in the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). The song’s dramatic shifts in tempo and sound, and the lyrics about vibrations and love and attraction, all captivated me, along with the theremins’ use, and the softly melded piece with an organ that invokes the sense of being in a church. This is a song which I always used to crank up in volume and fall still to appreciate. I often still do, over sixty years later.
I was talking to one of the painters yesterday as they wrapped up. “How long have you been doing this?” I asked. He was so proficient. He ended up telling me he was 51, and he’s been doing this for 30 years. I reflected, I retired from the military twenty-nine years ago, just a year after he began his career.
Stay positive, remain strong, leeeaaannn forward, and vote. Strengthened by the power of coffee, I’ll do the same. Here’s the music. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 