Category: miscellaneous

Saturday’s Wandering Thoughts

I came around a corner on my walk today. Deep in thought, I was in moving fast and not paying much attention when a sudden noise and motion to my left froze me.

A deer was on the other side of a knee-high white picket fence. I’d apparently startled her. Then she’d startled me

She was about three feet away. We stayed still. Then I softly said, “Hey, good looking. How’s your Saturday going?”

Leaning forward, the doe sniffed in my direction. This lasted for about ten seconds in my guesstimate. Then, satisfied, I guess, she resumed eating and I moved on.

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Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts

I purchased new underwear today. TMI? Or, “About time?”

Those are the general reactions people usually give me to these sort of beginnings. Most most-often heard is, “Why are you telling us that?”

Well, the underwear, a five pack, came in a resealable bag.

Yes, a resealable bag. Said so right there on the front of the package. Like the underwear were cheese, cookies, or chips. Even my cats’ kibble doesn’t have a resealable bag.

My wife and I noodled through explanations for why men’s underwear would be sold in a resealable bag. Perhaps, we reasoned, the bag magically washes them? But wouldn’t that be shown on the bag?

It threw off my plans. I was going to unpack the underwear, wash them, put them in the drawer. But now —

Maybe I should use the bag?

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Friday’s Wandering Thoughts

I was born in the U.S. in 1956. I’ve seen many changes. I never thought I’d live in a time when people would be ordering fast food from a place like McDonald’s on their phone, and it would be delivered.

Course, I didn’t expect to be typing about it on a computer in a coffee shop and sharing it with strangers, wirelessly, at that.

Didn’t think phones would be called cells, either.

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Friday’s Wandering Thoughts

I so love it when I go on a net page in Chrome to read something. Google covers part of it with ads. I can ask that they close the ad, and do.. They want feedback when I do that. Four options are included. None allow me to tell them, “YOUR AD IS BLOCKING THE FUCKING PAGE’S CONTENTS WHICH I WANT TO READ.”

No, that’s not an option. Guess that’s the price of technology.

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The Third Life

It was a night of dreams. This tale emerged from one.

Death came hard.

He hadn’t expected it. A loud noise behind him made him jump, turn, and stop as he crossed the street. A car raced toward him. He heard it but didn’t see it. The impact was short but hard.

Next that he knew, he was rising from his body, an unseen spirit slicing through the night. Below, his furry ginger body cooled on the asphalt. Stars peered through the dark, moving clouds, witnessing it all.

He was entering the quantum tunnel. Humans enjoy calling it the rainbow bridge. Amusing to him and many floofs but most respected most humans. Humans were often loyal, loving, and fun, and offered pretty good food.

He’d already used two lives, when he was two and five. First one was the stabbing. Loud voices spewed from his people. They wrestled and grunted. Glasses broke. Thumping and crying ensued.

Noises like that scared him. Fireworks. Arguments. Noisy machines.

Refuge in a dark closet among the shoes was sought. He didn’t know what was happening. Didn’t care. He never paid attention to anything not directly affecting him.

Silence fell. Body low, tail lower, he crept out.

His woman was crying on the kitchen floor. Salty snot and tears covered her face. She sagged against the dark wooden cupboards. His man was sprawled a few feet away. Blood expanded around him. A knife rose from his side.

He sniffed her, and then him, identifying anger. Love. Frustration. Pain. Death.

The decision to return the man to life was instantaneous. That wasn’t enough. The fight had shredded his people’s relationship. He not only needed to return the man to life but to a time before the fight.

Sitting, calming, eyes narrowing until they remained as emerald slits, the ginger boy focused on going back in time. A time bubble emerged in his head. He expanded it until it slipped out of his mind and into the air. Once it held him, he thought back through the hours, ignoring the shifting and burbling lights and sounds. Hard to do, because they mesmerized and threatened him.

Exhaustion skinned him after he finished. But worth it. They were happier. He took turns indulging in prolonged naps on their laps, attuning himself to their energies. When they moved, he moved, staying with them, wrapping around their legs to read their energy. As time tipped toward the remembered fight, he bit their arms or ankles, meowed and purred, or chewed their hair until their energy shifted.

“What’s with you, Gingerbread?” they asked, scratching his head and ruffling his fur. “You’re acting strange. Are you hungry? Do you want to play?”

Days passed without a fight. His purrs expanded into a loud, proud rasp. He’d succeeded.

The other life was a simpler matter, bringing the man back from death after a heart attack. After Gingerbread restored him on the sofa where his death had happened, the man awoke with Gingerbread curled up on his chest. Looking at the cat, he rubbed his mussed hair. “Wow, Gingerboy. That was some nap. I must’ve really been asleep. I feel so much better. Guess I needed it.”

Gingerbread purred back.

Yes, he decided as he floated down the quantum tunnel. His life was good. He loved his people and would miss them. He would go back.

Pushing against the growing energy currents, he pressed the other way until the night opened around him again. A light rain was slicking everything, turning it all black. His body remained where he’d succumbed. Getting back into it was a little hard because of the time which had passed, but he persisted, just as he had when he’d shed the collars they put on him. He would never wear a collar. Hated them.

“Ginger,” the man called. And then whistled.

Springing up, Gingerbread ran across the street and up to the front door. “Finally,” the man said, bending, petting him. “Was that you in the street? What were you doing? Don’t you know how dangerous that is? That’s why I worry about you.”

He picked Gingerbread up. “Come on, GB. Time to go in. Tomorrow is another day.”

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World Poetry Day

Today, UNESCO celebrates The World Poetry Day…

We need to keep looking forward

while still glancing back

as we shouldn’t forget the horror

of all those wars and attacks

something better must be ahead

because look back how it was

it’s a long arc and takes time

but peace and justice for all is our cause

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Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts

Warning: short rant ahead.

I don’t know if laws, customs, or behaviors are changing when it comes to driving in Ashland, Oregon. I don’t think it’s a change law. Although I sometimes zone out of what’s going on locally, I believe I would have heard about a law changing how turn signals are used.

Note: turn signals are also called blinkers. More formerly, they’re called direction indicator lights.

See, I’ve noticed a new development here. Drivers stop. As you stop behind them and wonder why they’re stopped, they start to turn and then put on their turn signal.

WTF? I thought the idea behind turn signals was to communicate with other drivers and notify them of their intention to turn. Doing so reduces the chances of accidents and injuries. Already enough of that potential when people are driving around in these powerful metal machines.

I see it in all situations, including changing lanes and at traffic lights. Red light. Stopped. Green light. They move up, begin the turn, and then put on the signal. Meanwhile, the driver they faced was starting to go. Now they hesitate because what the other drive is doing is different from what they’re communicated. The communication confusion spills down the line.

Was the driver who didn’t use their turn signal really just changing their mind? Could happen. Sure. But it’s happening so often now, I’m dubious. And they consistently begin moving into the turn first, and then put on the signal. That strikes me as premeditated.

It happened to me this morning. A large late model Ford pickup truck was stopped in the lane ahead of me. As I closed on him, I could see that no one was in front of them.

Were they broken down? Lost or confused?

Maybe. Because after the traffic coming toward them thinned, the began turning left and then put on their signal.

Yes, they put on their signal after they started turning, after they’d been stopped for about twenty seconds.

It didn’t make sense. For the record, the driver looked white, and a male — I say that because of the beard — in their late twenties to early thirties.

I’m not the only person complaining about the lack of signals. A 2019 NYTimes article explored the same sort of problem.

The NYT article asks, “So what’s the problem here? Why don’t many drivers take this simple safety precaution? When asked about their bad habits in a national study, their explanations seemed confounding.

“The study by Response Insurance of Meriden, Conn., found that 42 percent of drivers claimed they didn’t have enough time to signal before turning. Nearly a quarter of drivers blamed laziness, while 17 percent said they skipped signaling because they were apt to forget to cancel the blinkers. Worth noting: Men admitted that they were more likely, by 62 percent to 53 percent, to change lanes without signaling.”

Laziness. Really? Turning on that signal is that challenging to their strength, attention, and energy?

My situation is a little different. Drivers here ARE turning their signal on, but not until they actually start turning.

I don’t understand what’s going on in their head. It’s such a simple thing. As the NYT article notes, “Is it that some drivers just don’t care about the other guy? If that’s the case, consider this: There is evidence that the act of signaling provides a cognitive benefit to the driver.

“When you turn on the turn signal, you’re turning on your brain,” said Chris Kaufmann, a driving school instructor who specializes in teaching people who drive V.I.P.s.”

My impression is that drivers not using signals until they’re in the turn unaware of the law or they’re not mentally involved in their driving. Maybe they’re on the phone, listening to the radio, or chatting to another in the car.

Driving a car is part of a system. When some drivers don’t follow the system’s rules, it starts breaking down. Maybe it’s anal of me, but that’s how I see it.

Probably just me.

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: Marchmad

March madness continues, but less than two weeks remain before April shows up with its ideas.

Hi goobers. Today is Tuesday, March 19, 2021. We’re returning to a more traditional spring later this week. Right now, it’s 60 F with a high of 76 F in our sights. The sky couldn’t be any bluer if you asked an elementary school class to paint it.

Naturally, the weather affected the floofies. They’re shedding like fur is anathema to their look. Especially Papi. I went around picking up little ginger and cream fur clusters. Then he galloped around, fur flying in the sunshine through the windows, leaving fur like it was breadcrumbs to find his way back.

With that thought, Les Neurons posted “Find Your Way Back” by Jefferson Starship in the morning mental music stream (Trademark promised). Came out in 1981. I’ve had it as the day’s theme music before, in fact, just two years ago. Works for me for today.

Stay positive, lean forward, vote, and be strong. I’m refreshed and invigorated by sun and coffee. Hope you weather and drink is doing you right wherever you be. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Mood: sunergized

This. Is. March. 16. 20. 24.

Sunshine began painting Saturday’s morning sky a bright blue. Clouds fled the scene; not for them, they decided, dragging cooler temperatures away with them. The bedroom walls and then the living room were painted gold with sunlight as Earth rotated and its orbit crossed Sol’s path, shifting the sun south across the eastern sky. Spring edges closer with kitty steps. We struck a high of 72 F yesterday when they called for less; meteorology speculation indicates we’ll strike a high of 70 F today. I think my house will see 74 F.

TL/DR: We use RLT and just purchased a pod.

My wife and I began using red light therapy about two years ago. This involves leaping out of the car and releasing a primal scream whenever we’re driving and stop at a red light. It’s a great relief although other drivers and their passengers seem to freak out.

Ha! Just kidding. Red light therapy (RLT) is photo biomodulation. That explains it all, doesn’t it? The gear we buy uses diodes that transmit red light and near infrared at 660 nm and 850 nm. Supposed to help with skin issues, inflammation, muscle damage, and speed healing. That’s what began drawing my wife to it. I became intrigued after I learned that celebrities and athletes swear by it. Both wife and I have swelling and inflammation matters. Some of her problems were side effects of meds she took to combat her RA and generally deteriorating health.

So, first we bought a RLT mask. It worked pretty well so we upped our involvement to a RLT belt. Made by Life Pro, it ran us about $150 with discounts. FedEx delivered it November 8 last year, so we’ve been using it for about four months.

The belt is about 50 inches long and seven inches wide. My wife uses it for various RA flares in her hips, back, shoulders, arms, hands, along with Renaud’s syndrome. Renaud’s causes her fingers and hands to become cold and numb. They turn white and bend out of shape. This RLT kicked its ass.

I use it for blood circulation. I began experiencing edema a few years ago after a BHP closed my urethra and blocked my ability to pee. They’re not certain what’s behind my edema. Venous insufficiency in my ankles and lower legs is usually cited but it could be a problem with my lymphatic system.

I find that thirty minutes with that thing each day provides major relief to my edema. It is used in conjunction with other changes. I elevate my legs and massage them each evening. The skin is treated with EB40. EB40 is made by Ebenal and has 40% urea cream 40% plus 2% Salicylic Acid. I exercise but I’ve always exercised. At this stage, I do light free weights with stretching, wall sitting and planking, jump-roping (which I suck at), and walking. I walk about 7 to 8 miles a day.

After we experienced success with the RLT belt, my wife began telling friends about it. Bottom line, they’ve bought it for arthritis in their hands and wrists, back problems, old injuries, feet problems. All are amazed by the results after just over a month of use.

So, we’re escalating. We bought a TLR pod. Looks like a sleeping bag with red lights lining its innards. Over 2400 in all. Cost us a grand and will be delivered this week. We’ll see what happens.

Today’s music is by Fitz and the Tantrums. Their 2013 song, “Out of My League”, occupies the morning mental music stream. Nothing that I know triggered it. I inquired of The Neurons but they stayed mute. Fitz and the Tantrums are categorized by most as pop and neo soul. I think that’s an apt description. Amazing how pop, rock, soul, jazz, blues, and progressive morph to reflect new ideas, tastes, and needs. Keeping up is a challenge. I fail at it pretty miserable. I last played this song five years ago.

Stay pos, be strong, and lean forward. Register and vote, too, please, if you’re part of a democracy somewhere. Coffee has been gliding into my gullet. It’s 64 F outside. Look at that sunshine.

Here’s the music. Cheers

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