It’s a little before 8 AM. It was already light as a cloudy day by 5 AM as the sunrise cruises closer to 5:30 AM. Floofs are fed Breakfast is et. 68 F outside, sunny, humidity of 54%, light breeze, warm but cool. Today’s high will be 83F. We did reach 93 in moi’s yard yesterday. It’s May 15, 2023. Under pretense of reminding me, my wife reminds herself, the guest room window will be replaced tomorrow, 3 PM. The guy, Chris, came 30 minutes early last time, so be ready 30 minutes early. Right, got it, I answer, once, twice, thrice, half-listening as I read.
The coffee has been poured. French roast. Smells woody, earthy, wonderful. Went onto the sun soaked back patio and sniffed it a bit as the breeze played and the cats washed.
I took a magnesium citrate this morning. Calf cramps, you know, walking, exercising, yard work, sweating. The Neurons immediately began playing “White Rabbit” by a group called Jefferson Airplane. Coming out in 1967, this psychedelic song worried Mom about what her eleven-year-old son was hearing.
The first sip of coffee has been sampled. As good as expected. Ready for more.
Stay pos. Carpe Monday. Time to imbibe more coffee. Maybe do the Wordle. Or shower and clean up. Or read? No, wait, today is food and friends deliveries.
Today is Sunday, you know what that means. It’s May 11, 2023. Mother’s Day in America. It’s a love fest out there.
Beautiful day here, too. Yesterday’s temps peaked at 88 F around my house, and it was gorgeous. Spirit lifting and energizing. Today appears much like yesterday. Sky is sick with blue and sunshine. High of either 88, 90, or 97 F predicted. Warm, busy wind today. Invigorating, peeps. Cats are totally digging it, parading in and out of the house for a while until finding just the right spot for a warm spring morning nap. Don’t really know where Tucker is squatting but he’ll show up come kibble time.
Merry Mom Day to all it celebrate it. Hope it’s a grand day.
Mom has received the card, letter, and chocolates I sent her. She’s pleased. As two sisters and many grands and great-grands live within half an hour of her or so, MD is always done up. Mom is more limited now, uses a walker, gets tired easily, so plans will be different. Uncle Billy’s funeral was last night, too, so that’s put a damper on Mom’s spirits. I’ll get a full report later.
Nephew — little sister’s number two son — is marrying this year. We’re busy getting clothes and making plans to fly to the PA area for that. Since we’ll be on the east coast, we’ll go down south to visit other family, too.
Today’s theme music came about when someone talked about something going on. Several others and I said, “I can help,” and “Me, too,” and all that. The Neurons took that opportunity to re-acquaint me with Billy Swan’s 1974 song, “I Can Help”. Ubiquitous — on numerous radio stations of rock, pop, and country persuasions — he also showed up on television. It’s another one of those songs that landed and splashed and I rarely heard again. But you get to hear it today as Sunday’s theme music.
Stay pos, make the day worthy of being alive if you can — I know too well, limiting forces muscle us around — and enjoy coffee. Coffee: it brings out the best in me.
The sun rose before me, a little before six AM. Gonna be hot again. 63 F now. Some say it’ll reach 86 F in Ashlandia. Others pronounce 90 will be the temp top. 97 F is in others’ forecasts. All three may actually be right, depending upon which part of the city you’re in. I believe we’ll see 91 in my locale. Hit 82 F yesterday.
Gorgeous out there right now. All green and blue. Mellow mountain breeze is sloping down into the open back doors. The cats come in, come by me for a welfare check and to see if I’m eating or doing anything of interest, and meowder back out.
Yardwork is in my future after the writing session, as the last rain cycle caused weeds to explode in height and density. I’ll cull the dandies a bit but we let them stay. Bees like ’em.
Terrible dream last night. Vivid and intense. Took me about an hour before slumber crawled back in me.
But the day’s song comes from a walk yesterday. Up from the wells of 1969 came “Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man” by the Bob Seger System. Found an interesting video of it being performed by a young and beardless Bob Seger. Never seen him without a beard. I always believed he was born with a beard. The set is fascinating as well. It’s an energetic rendition.
Stay pos and take Saturday like a happy pill. Coffee is tugging my leash so I’m going on. Here’s the beats as heard over fifty years ago. Cheers
Well, the sky is blue and ripe with sunshine. It’s fine weather, even though Uncle Bill passed away at midnight last night. Heart failure. He was a good person and being related to him is an honor. Not much else I can but celebrate his life and go on.
It’s 62 F right now. 75 F is expected later today, 80 Friday, 90 — some say 97 — an Saturday, kicking off a week of temperatures dancing between highs in the upper 80s to mid 90s. Appears summer is crowding into May. This is May 11, 2023.
It’s also my older sister’s birthday. Happy b’day, sister! She’s two years older than me and about eight inches shorter, and I’m only 5’8″. She’s a grandma several times over and living the life in a suburb outside of Atlanta, Georgia.
Learning of Uncle Bill’s end of life encouraged The Neurons with a 1986 Phil Collins song, “Take Me Home”. I may not be alone in this, but I’d loved to be back in that time when I regularly saw Uncle Bill, and he was young, and I was younger, and both of had forever ahead of us. Death is natural and regular, but always stirs memories up from the well’s bottom and yearning for the times and places I most enjoyed.
On a lighter note, got my new military ID today. Yes, I’m retired, but the card ‘expired’ when I turned 65, something put in place to force retirees to sign up for Medicare, which becomes the primary healthcare for vets of a certain era. Getting the card is hard. Limited places to get it in Oregon. Local Medford guard unit provides walk-in service. Well, that’s easy, isn’t it? No. The onerous system complicates matters. People line up, waiting to get in, as he goes through the process of connecting, entering data, verifying info, registering fingerprints, taking the photo, and then finally printing out the new card and verifying that its chip works. Today was my ninth visit to get ‘er done. Tried too, when I was in PA last year, where they are by appointment only. No appointments were available at any of the three nearby sites. Morgan, the infantry man who mans the office, shared several horror stories about people’s efforts to get a new card. Congratulations to him, too, who is retiring after twenty, but staying on to do the same job as a civilian. He seems pretty pleased.
Have some coffee and stay pos. Enjoy your life and forge ahead as you can. Here’s the music. Cheers
Last night was a lovely black night. I’d clean out the royal’s collection box (known in many homes as ‘the litter box’) and was securing its potatoes in a bag which was deposited in a garbage can outside the side door. The air was cool, the night was black, and the stars were fine. I stayed out for half an hour, enjoying the feel and scene.
Today, Wednesday, May 10, 2023, is cool — mid forties — but sunny, with a preternatural blue sky unafflicted by smoke, clouds, or haze. Gorgeous, yeah? Yet the weather minions whisper that it’ll be cloudy today, with thunderstorms and rain in the afternoon. High will 67 F. The sun’s grand entrance took place at a few minutes before six AM and the grand departure from Ashlandia’s skies will come about after eight PM. The floofs — Tucker and Papi by name — are eating that sunshine up.
Trying to help FB friends save a beautiful Husky, Sam.
He is off the death list, I understand. If you’re interested, or know someone who can save this doggo and give him a home, here’s the contact info. Reach out to them.
Interesting dreams last night. Had a repeat of one which involved flying with Dad, but the jet was a big building with a luxurious red interior. We went around different parts of the aircraft napping, eating, watching movies, and chatting with others. That one ended and the next one had me in a military uniform, under attack and dealing with the fallout, and literally crapping my pants and being embarrassed and humiliated as people wondered what stunk. A friend was helping me, and then I made off to change clothes, and another old friend helped me. I ended up in two different uniform styles being worn, but is that so important when the place is going to be attacked?
I thought those dreams would trigger something from The Neurons in the matter of theme music, but they had other ideas. Last night’s black night inspired The Neurons to play “Black Night” by Deep Purple (1970) in the morning mental music stream. I went looking for a video of the song and was rewarded with this find, a group made of a little Purple, Iron Maiden, Queen, and Led Zepp. This was part of the Sunflower Superjam, a British charity. Hope you’ll give your ears a taste of this excellent rendition.
Alright, stay pos and master Wednesday. It’s all downhill for the rest of the week. Just a pause to shout out to my late FIL. Passing in 1991 when he was 65, he would be 97 this year. Still miss him. You know what he liked? Coffee and fishing. In his honor, I’ll have a cup of coffee, thanks.
The sun bulled its way over the horizon and into Ashlandia’s sky a few ticks before six AM. It’s Tuesday, May 9, 2023, and 45 degrees F out there. Rain deliveries through the past five days have encouraged the town to show off multiple greens. Jade, emerald, pine, leafy, grassy — the greens flourish under the immaculately blue sky. Not promising anything, the weather criers say, but it’ll be in the upper sixties today. The sun’s end time in Ashlandia’s environs will be after eight this evening.
Went walking yesterday, a favorite pastime. Two miles, one and a half of it in steady rain. Lovely. Got home wet with rain and sweat. Lovely. Felt good to be back in the rain and feel the sweat dripping and rolling, plastering my hair under my hat.
I continue scoring on the dream front. Last night brought visits from Sean Penn and Brad Pitt. Woke up chuckling to myself, mumbling, that was a great dream. Then I went through it, writing it all down after I got up, one of three dreams covered in today’s dream journal entry.
The cats are adjusting to the improved weather. So are other cats. Thus there was floof showdown on the front porch. A young gray cat has been showing up around the neighborhood for the last two months. Seems healthy, but just going around doing feline business. They’ve encountered Papi the ginger wonder before, but apparently last night was a surprise for the two and face to face. It’s post event speculation for us. We only know that the floof warnings went off like air-raid sirens for the Battle of Britain. Dashing to the front door, we saw the two. Of course, Tucker, the black and white lord of thunder heard it all and galloped out, too, shouting, “To battle.” Seeing the situation, gray cat departed. Papi pursued but lost the trail. He and Tucker took up stations to ensure they’d be there, should the interloper return.
Today’s music comes from “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel”. We’ve been watching it recently and have plowed into the third season. The song, by the Poppy Family, is “Where Evil Grows” and was put out over fifty years ago. I heard it on the radio a few times back then before it disappeared. But it shows up on television shows and movies once in a while, never on the radio, that I ever hear. Anyway, hearing it enlivened The Neurons, and they plugged it into the morning mental music stream, advertising it as nostalgia. The song’s writer is Terry Jacks, better known for “Which Way You Going, Billy” and “Seasons in the Sun”.
Ah, the train is rolling through, tooting its own horn, ensuring everyone is aware of its royal self as it rumbles through town. Stay pos, keep living the good life and fighting the good fight, wherever it may take you. My efforts are taking me to the coffee. Here’s the tune. Give it a listen. Cheers
She looked at the pen clipped to his shirt. He always wore one there, below his first and second button, a good-luck talisman.
“I notice that you almost always have a pen there,” she said. “Why do you do that?”
He grinned. “Well, it’s not a pen.”
“It’s not? It looks like one.”
“It’s a sophisticated recording device. Links to my phone. I’m always recording everything happening to me, around me, you know, just in case.” He shrugged, noting her incredulous expression. “Just part of the times, you know?”
He picked up his beer and sipped it, debating, should he tell her he was joking?
Mom was always home, the location which held his heart. Though she moved several times since he left home when he was fifteen and ended up living with his father, just returned from military service in Germany.
Keeping up with Mom was a challenge. New locations, new husbands, boyfriends, new jobs. She went back to school, got her GED. It’d been her secret that she hadn’t graduated high school. Then, nursing school, and the nursing profession, which she loved. By then she was in her late forties. She finally gained the independence sought, and bought a home for herself.
Keeping up for many years was cards, letters, phone calls. He only heard from her on holidays and birthdays. He initiated all else. Then email became popular. Now it’s text messages. Through it all she was the same but changed.
I’m counting down the days to Friday. This is Friday, so Friday’s a week away. Seven days. Then I’ll be counting down again.
Calendars help that. Instead of counting down to Friday, we count down to a date. Today is May 5, 2023, Cinco de Mayo. There will be some joy and celebration going on, parties and drinking and eating. Socializing. Dancing. Then we resume the countdown to the next special date. Mother’s Day, I think, in ‘Merica. May 14, 2023. Although several family birthdays are between now and then.
Spring is firmly in control this week. The cats are enjoying it, in the mid-forties at night, fifties to sixties during the day, a little dribble of rain. Early sunrise, late sunset. Blossoms out, leaves returning, people ogling trees’ pink and whites, exclaiming, “Aren’t they pretty?”
Feeling a little tired today. A dream flotilla sailed on and on through the night. Out of nowhere this morning, The Who were summoned by The Neurons to perform “You Better You Bet” (1981) in my morning mental music stream. The Neurons aren’t admitting to anything about why the ’81 song is playing.
Coffee is in order. Breakfast — oatmeal with nuts, seeds, raisins, and cranberries — has been et, along with a pinwheel pastry which my wife made, puff pastry and honey with crushed walnuts and pistachios. Most tasty.
We’re such individuals. Not just from one another but from what we were when we were younger.
I used to be aghast that someone didn’t like chocolate. Or ‘don’t care for sweets’. Dad is one of those.
I could understand why people didn’t like coffee, beer, or alcohol generally, between flavors and effects. Now I see, as I age, how my taste buds and preferences have morphed through my decades. I still enjoy chocolate, beer, coffee, etc., but things taste sweeter or saltier to me.
Life. Takes so long to learn and understand, and then things change.
Michael Seidel, writer 