The arrival board clicked; yes, Monday had arrived on schedule and was pulling into gate 8/14/2023.
It’s hot in Ashlandia, 84 F at 9:45, heading for 105 today. Cooled down to 70 during the night but it was a late cool down and the sun cracked the whip on the heat as soon as it showed up.
Spend a pleasant day yesterday away from Ashlandia, where the businesses are average and the tourists are good-looking. Went to Jacksonville, a thirty-five minute drive via highway and country roads. Bon voyage party for friends, who are moving to Spain. They’ve been planning it for years, and have lived a few months at a time in the past few years. Now they’re awaiting their visas and putting their stuff in storage, and doing the paperwork through a lawyer to ensure everything is properly accomplished regarding health insurance, etc.
We met them in 2005, just after moving to Ashland. The mechanism was the Y exercise class. My wife, who enjoys exercising, joined the Family Y and began attending that class every M-W-F, and met the woman, Linda. Coffee, lunches, shopping adventures, book clubs, and going out for dancing so followed. Linda and her hubby are terrifically social, friendly, happy people. They always had something going on, and they just started including us.
The Neurons ended up lifting good-bye songs from the grey matter on the drive home. Simple Minds carry the morning mental music stream with “Don’t You Forget About Me” from 1985.
Well, gonna go do yardwork before it gets too hot, than off to write. Shoot down a cuppa coffee first. Stay pos, be strong, remain sane. Here we go. Cheers
I blinked, and it’s Sunday once again. Seems like it was Sunday just last week. Ever get tired of that routine? Maybe we should expand the names of the days of the week. The government could have a big auction. Proceeds would go to education, homelessness programs, Medicare, and Medicaid. So we could have Appleday, IBMday, Floday (sponsored by Progressive Insurance), Fordday, MCUday, Primeday, etc. It’d be odd at first, sure, but we would adjust. They would earn the rights for a quarter. That way, things could be seasonal, or used for movie promotions. Sunday could be Barbieday.
Today is August 13, 2023. 77 F and climbing. Gonna be a hot one. Like seven inches from the midday sun. 103 is expected.
The Neurons stirred “Head Over Heels” by Tears for Fears (1985) into the morning mental music stream (Trademark hot). The CD that song was on was Songs from the Big Chair and was part of my long-distance rotation while going on temporary duty assignments in ’85, when I was stationed in South Carolina. I’m not surprised Les Neurons plucked this song out of memory, as I was head over heels in dreams last night. Nothing particularly interesting. Mostly anxiety dream varieties. That’s what’s been dominating.
Smoke entered the valley last night so it was shut the windows, keep them closed, and stayed inside. Air Quality Index entered the Moderate zone. I smelled and felt it, though, eyes tearing up and drying up, nose developing a drip, throat growing sore. Amazingly quick period before that all happened. I suspect that it’s a COVID leftover from last year’s bout. Never used to be like this for me. Of course, it might be just aging.
While still mesmerized by Hawaii’s disaster, news in the state today is about the increase of cougar sightings. The article pointed out that the cougar population has grown to 6,000, and that the growth of security cameras in houses and increased trail cams has increased our awareness of them. We have almost daily stories of them here in Ashlandia, where the people are worried, and pets are kept in sight.
Time to kick off this Oppenheimerday. Stay pos and be strong. Remember to love yourself a little. Nothing freaky, okay? Coffee? Mine is black and hot, without sugar, thanks. French roast.
We’re about to rock Thursday, August 10, 2023 — or is it about to rock us?
It’s a comfortable morning in Ashlandia, where the children are young and the parents are hopeful. 70 F and sunny now, 91 is on the books as the expected high. Relative humidity is hovering around 41%. Mild breezes carry mountain chills into the valley as the sun’s heat starts taking over.
My thoughts are with Hawaii today. The photos, videos, and tales emerging from the islands are saddening, soul-killing. Hawaii for me was a beautiful exotic place to visit, almost like paradise. It’s painful to think of those wonderful people and lands burning. Not too much different from what it was like to see Italy burning, Spain, California, Australia, and other places around the world in the last few years. Whether Hawaii’s disaster is linked to climate change, I don’t know. Fires do happen but so many devastating fires and disasters have been witnessed in the last ten years, the tension of impending collapse feels like it’s increasing. There is evidence that climate change is happening, and accelerating. For us not to try to mitigate what we can is such a depressing, defeatist, and selfish attitude that my dismay rises to disbelief. That so often the excuse for not doing something is that it will be bad for business is appalling.
I paused for a bit to remember the many places I visited and how fortunate I was to have visited them. Too often I forget how privileged I’ve been and am. It’s a side effect of privilege, one of several, that you ended up taking these things for granted.
The Neurons plucked “The Best of Times” by Styx out of the mental repository. It’s playing full tilt in the morning mental music stream (Trademark uncertain), brought on by the lyrics, “Rumor has it, it’s the end of paradise.” So often when we look back, we have a moment that we think of as the best of times. Those are generated by relativities of who you are, where you were, your expectations and disappointments, really, your reality. I think about future generations and what they’ll look back upon, and wonder. Fortunately, beyond the broader landscape of existence, people have their own bubbles of being. It’s in there where we take comfort as we can, and stock hope for something better.
Time for coffee, or as I dub it, ‘coffee time’ (trademark rejected). Say positive and hopeful, even optimistic, and let’s keep moving forward. Peace out, as they used to say.
We went west to the Pacific Ocean, enjoying its presence from the shores of a little town called Gold Beach in southern Oregon (population: 2241). Highway 101 runs through it from California, serving as the main way in and out. We stayed there three nights and four days, making and taking terrific memories. Here are my top three worthies from bottom to top.
3. Jet Mail Boat to Agness. First, the boat doesn’t have propellers, which allows it to travel in water as shallow as twelve inches. Using three 6.2 liter Chevy marine engines to steer and propel it along, the boat delivers the mail to Agness six days a week during the summer. Besides the boat ride and the history of the USPS run from Gold Beach to Agness up the Lower Rogue River, we saw a bear eating blackberries, a few river otters swimming around, deer, Roosevelt elk, beavers, osprey and their nests and young, and a couple bald eagle nests. We were also told about the stunning 1964 flood. We were about fifty feet below a bridge. That flood crested three feet above that bridge deck. Like, mind blowing. Besides it, we learned about the now departed Lowry fishing camp. Clark Gable used to fish there, among many celebrities and politicians, but Cable always asked for our boat pilot’s grandfather as his fishing guide. So we had water, boating, nature, and history, along with a dinner at a lodge.
2. Chapter One – yes, it’s a coffee shop. I enjoy coffee shops, even have a passion for them. First, I like a good brew. Second, I look for the ambiance. Third, I consider the food offerings. Like my other favorites — the lamented Li Di Da in Half Moon Bay and the long departed original Beanery of Ashland — Chapter One offers these things. They almost displaced The Green Salmon as the best coffee house. The Green Salmon’s fabulous gluten free baked goods keeps the competition level, but Chapter One’s maple scone was OMG excellent. What keeps the Green Salmon (Yachats, OR) at number one is their gluten free vegan breakfast sandwiches. Oh, yeah.
The Pacific Ocean. We had a beautiful stretch of little used public which was a few miles long. It was so little used, it felt private. Wonderful to breathe fresh ocean air, gaze out over the sun splashed waves, and hear the crash and roar. Walking the beach was done several times a day. Great place for contemplating existence and discarding worries. I left a lot there in the beach’s sand.
Just want to note that the numbering is another WP thing. It insisted on indenting #1, at the bottom of the list, identifying it as ‘list’ and indenting it. Why? Only WordPress knows for sure.
Naturally, to make this a complete WP experience, it dropped again while I wrote this. Couldn’t save the draft, couldn’t publish. Had to work around by copying it and pasting it to a doc and then creating a new post.
It’s amazing. When he was a kid, he usually had two pairs of shoes, known as his ‘good’ shoes and his play shoes. Good shoes were also known as ‘dress-up’ shoes and ‘nice’ shoes. Play shoes became gym shoes and good shoes became school shoes. Dress shoes were added into the mix.
This trio — gym, or ‘tennis’ shoes, as they grew to be called — school shoes, dress shoes — were the status quo for years. A second pair of school shoes was added, along with cleated shoes for sports.
During his military years, he stayed with the triumvirate of shoes for his personal life. Gym shoes were still tennis shoes (though he didn’t play tennis), along with dress shoes and ‘jeans’ shoes. He began playing racquetball, so racquetball shoes were added to the mix. So were sandals. Then running shoes joined the shoe group. Military requirements dictated three more pairs of shoes: low-quarters (which were a super-shiny version of dress shoes), chukka boots, and combat (or paratrooper) boots. So it mostly stayed for his military career, except slippers were added through Christmas presents, and jungle boots and desert boots were added to fit his mission needs. The three pairs of military footwear were now five, because they’d done away with the chukkas.
Civilian life post military retirement brought on more shoe requirements. Aging helped. And shoe marketing. Now he added beach shoes, boating shoes, hiking shoes, walking shoes, and several pairs of ‘jeans’ shoes, also now called ‘casual’ shoes. There were work shoes, so he looked the role in the ‘business casual’ environment, but the military shoes were gone.
Going into marketing added more shoes to go with suits. Brown, gray, and black shoes were needed. He still had running and hiking shoes, along with walking shoes, jeans shoes, and casual work shoes. He was wearing cargo shorts frequently, and needed shoes to go with those. Moving from a pleasant year round clime to a snowy and wet environment brought up needs for wet weather and cold weather shoes.
Now he’s come to retirement. The suit shoes sit in boxes on shelves, but the rest have become so complex and numerous. He purged his shoes regularly, giving them away. His feet had widened and his feet’s needs had changed through the years, and that dictated changes as well.
Like so many other things, it’d become so very, very complicated. He wished for the days again when he had just two pairs of shoes. Given how life goes, he figured that circle would complete itself when he grew older.
Mood: slow, mentally and physically. Took me an hour to yawn this morning. Emergency coffee begun.
Yeah, Friday. July 28, 2023. See that date, kiddos? July almost done, another young older, another year gone.
Cool mountain air has been climbing all over me through the open windows. 66 F now, we’re looking at 90 as the top end. Fires are burning but our skies remain clear, knock head. Hope everyone else surrounded by disasters or engulfed by them are doing well.
Well, sis finally told Mom ’bout her cancer, so we can all talk about it openly. Youngest one was diagnosed with rectal cancer. First reported symptoms were rectal bleeding. Went on a while before her older sister forced her to the doctor. A large polyp was removed but now her rectum will be removed. As others have said, and I have said, and will probably say again, cancer sucks.
Along with that, her young son had a severe, terrifying seizure earlier in the month. First one ever. They’re searching for the root cause. A few years short of being eligible to get a a driver’s license, he’s scared. Yes, sis and her fam are having a not very good year. There are bright spots; #1 son just got his license. He graduates HS next year and spent part of his summer visiting college campuses.
I have “Rocky Mountain Way” by Joe Walsh in my morning mental music stream (trademark surprised) today. Why it’s there is a question for the ages. Why do Der Neurons do anything? They rarely explain themselves these days, like they’ve becoming indifferent to what I think.
Meanwhile, I’ve been preoccupied with the GOP and their CRA to overturn endangered species protections for the lesser Prairie Chicken. They used gems like this to rationalize their decision:
‘Rep. Bruce Westerman, an Arkansas Republican who chairs the House Natural Resources Committee, called the Endangered Species Act an important but outdated part of U.S. history.
“The unavoidable truth about the ESA is that a listing means less private investment, which harms conservation efforts,” he said.’
So, to be clear, investment is more important than life, in his opinion.
This one by Sen. Moran was a laughter.
‘On the Senate floor, Republican Sen. Jerry Moran of Kansas said the rule threatens ranchers and farmers.
“I am confident there are ways to conserve the species without hindering economic opportunity in rural communities,” he said.
He said what Kansas needs is “more rainfall not more regulations.”’
See, the numbers for this species have been plummeting for years. I think a smart child would point out to the senator that if there were ways to conserve the species without regulations, it would have already been done.
Sure. Experts point out that this species is often used as a bell weather for an ecology’s state. As the species goes, so does the region. Meanwhile, heat records are being smashed around the northern hemisphere. The GOP actively blocks efforts to deal with climate change.
And this is the GOP in a nutshell to me, a party that ignores facts in pursuit of BAU, a reactionary party that will drag itself, the nation, and the world over a cliff while telling everyone that it’ll be fine.
Sen. Moran, BTW, also thinks that protecting the lesser Prairie Chicken will also harm energy producers, because, you know, despite record profits and high executive pay and bonuses, that industry is hurting. *end snark*
Well, that certainly did nothing for my mood. Deep breath. Stay pos and strong. Move forward, and specify what that means. Here’s the music. Coffee is half gone, brothers and sisters. Time to awaken. Here’s the music from fifty years ago to cheer us up and move us on. Am I being ironic, hypocritical, or just plain ol’ ridiculous?
To begin this day, once upon a time in Ashlandia — actually, we can be more specific. To begin this day, once upon Thursday, July 27, 2023, in Ashlandia, where the dogs and the deer struggle to get along and both avoid the bears, there were two cats named Papi and Tucker. Sorry, that’s all I have.
A cool 68 F air holds sway in our dominion. 88 F is the anticipated high for the day, continuing Ashlandia’s trend for a mellow, less heated summer, knock on wood (I use my head as a substitute, when called for). While my weather system shows two days over triple diggies have been reached this year, the official records say, nope, hasn’t happened. Three fires — Bedrock, Golden, and Flat — continue burning, contributing their smoke to our fresh air, but it’s not been much of a factor thus far, knock head. Hope the dedicated firefighters can get them contained and done soon. Bet they’re hoping the same. Hard life, fighting wildfires, according to five friends who did or do it for their employment.
Not much on the agenda for the moment, which is superfine, yeah? A dream inspired The Neurons (motto: “We don’t know and we don’t care”) to upload “Say You, Say Me” by Lionel Richie, 1985 to the morning mental music stream (trademark laughable). He was The Man for romantic music in the 1980s, and his album, Can’t Slow Down, was huge. We were living in Columbia, SC, at that time while I was stationed at Shaw AFB, but I was traveling a lot, mostly to Africa, but also to Europe and Florida. It’s just an association, you know? “Say You, Say Me” and the 1985 travels.
Time to start up and go. The Neurons have now begun “Kickstart My Heart” by Mötley Crüe (1989 – livin’ in Germany then) in the morning mental music stream. So it goes. Stay pos, be strong, remain hopeful and optimistic, and persist. Ah, there’s my coffee. Here is the music. Cheers, my friends.
He’d been walking on a sidewalk, going up a hill, when a passing van’s music blasted him.
He knew that song — rock, yes — but his mind refused to give up the song’s title or the band’s name. Even more of the song was denied him. The same seven seconds kept swirling through his mental music stream.
It was going to tear up his mind. He needed to find enough to remember it or look it up. Based on his current rate of remembering, it’d probably be sometime on Friday or Saturday before he remembered.
It was something about the stuff in this drawer. It’s just –
I’ve never had any real use for this drawer. It was, you know…extra. So I started putting things in it. Odd stuff. All this was supposed to be temporary but a lot of it’s been in here for years. I don’t know what it’s all from. Screws leftover from things I installed. Never like to throw away screws. Never know when you’ll need a screw just like this one. Screwdriver, of course. I was looking for that. It’s supposed to be in my tool box. Or these pens. Old gum. Gum’s probably been in here ten years. Trident. My wife liked chewing it, so I kept some on hand for her. Don’t need it now. Cat toys. Don’t need that, either. Last cat I had was Jury. Big black cat. Sweetest animal you’ll ever meet. He died…how long ago was that? Shoelaces. A stone. I can almost remember why I kept this little stone. Look at it. Strange blue. Round, almost oval.
Everything in here was part of a moment. It all meant something to me when I put it in here. I can’t remember any of it.
I can’t even remember what it was that I wanted to tell you. I don’t even recall why I wanted to speak.
Let me introduce you. This is Monday, July 24, 2023. It’s a day which can really help you. You should get to know it.
Today’s weather in Ashlandia, where the cost of living is high and the less-fortunate struggle, finds the air stopping at 88 F. It’s 64 F, and I’ll tell you, brothers and sisters, that cool air feels so good to my skin. Goes well with hot coffee. Yes, I’ve already started downing a cup.
Smoke finally reached us in a serious manner last night. Kicked our AQI into unhealthy levels and was a stench in the air. Shut offended windows. Fortunately, not all required they be closed. Just the northern and western in our arc of Ashlandia.
The Neurons have planted “Secret Agent Man” by Johnny Rivers from the mid-sixties in the morning mental music stream (trademark dangerous). Secret Agent was a television show of the time in the US, a rebooted version of the Brit show, Danger Man. SA starred Patrick McGoohan. I wasn’t a huge fan that I recall, but I remember several extended family members would put it on when we were at Grandma & Grandpa’s house, and I’d watch. My preferred spy show was The Man from U.N.C.L.E. I adopted that in a big way.
Anyway, “Secret Agent Man” is in my stream because I started singing it to my cat. Floofurally, my version was “Secret Agent Floof”. This was dedicated to Papi because after he ate today, I’d find him peering around corners. When I said his name or went to visit with him, he’d galloped away on a mission, only to return a short time later. Ah, floof games in the morning.
So, I have my coffee, and I’m drinking it. You can have some of your own if you wish. Or something else. Whatever works for you, within the bounds of — well, you know the bounds. Don’t go out of bounds. Stay pos and strong, and don’t let the world’s multiple messes undercut your spirit. You can do this.
Here’s the music. Sound and pic sync is a little off. Tech. What can I say? Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 