Monday’s Theme Music

Monday has landed. You need to be careful when Monday lands that it doesn’t do serious damage to you. Some people really enjoy Mondays landing. They’re depressingly cheerful, shouting things like, “Woo hoo, it’s Monday,” causing the rest of us to raise our eyebrows so high that they get lost in our hair.

It’s August 27, 2022, which, for some, is the deadline. It’s also birthdays and anniversaries, so salutations to you if it is. Hope it’s memorable and the start of a long line of fantastic years.

I’m in Eugene, Oregon, now, a stop off on our way home. It’s 61 F here, 16 C on the coast, and 64 F in Ashland. Respective highs are 85, 68, and 88 F. Sunrise for this local was a classic, with sunshine piercing the eastern sky with a sharp golden lance at 6:323 this morning. Sunset will be at 8:07. I plan to be home then, where the sunset will be 8:01.

I have a 1957 song by Buddy Holley and the Crickets stuck in the morning mental music stream. My fault, totally my fault. After we checked into the room and settled for the evening, we cruised TV offerings where we found BBC America showing Stand By Me. The 1986 movie is about boys in a 1959 small town, their conflicts with themselves and others, and the quest to find a dead body. It features a terrific cast and music of the era. Well, The Neurons heard, ” Everyday, it’s a-gettin’ closer, goin’ faster than a roller coaster,” and they latched onto that like a cat taking over a chair.

Stay pos, test, neg, and so on. Yes, I’ve had coffee and breakfast. Coffee was very good. The breakfast went down well, breaking back tears of joy from being out in the field and enjoying some fine reconstituted eggs. Here’s the music. Cheers

My Five Vacay Faves

We returned from vacation last week, which was a road trip lasting about a week on the Oregon coast and up in northwest Oregon. The best parts, of course, were being away, being with friends and family, and then, yes, coming home. Coming home and finding the floofs in good shape and the house standing and damage free is satisfying.

Past those obvious points, I had specifics that I enjoyed. This is not the definitive order or rankings. They’re just the matters I most enjoyed.

  1. Being in the Cape Perpetua area. We’re guilty of multiple visits to this area since moving to Oregon fifteen years ago. This time, we treated friends to our favorite spots. Rich with volcanic leftovers and WPA efforts, exploring it is fun and educational. Specific favorites include Thor’s Well the Spouting Horn. Hearing – and feeling – the waves thundering in and firing spray several stories into the air is mesmerizing, almost therapeutic. Also of interest is the old rock hut. My wife often misremembers and informs people that it was built by Boy Scouts. She doesn’t believe me when I say, no, it was a WPA project. But, yes, it was. She was embarrassed when the guide at the information center corrected her. Its location high above the coast provide amazing views.
  2. Powell’s Books. We checked out the Powell’s Books, whatever its official name is, in Beaverton. It’s clean, large, well-organized, and it’s full of books! Books, new and old. Non-fiction and novels, coloring books and chapter books, and things related to books, writing, and reading. I walked around reading covers and blurbs, and employee recommendations. My wife summed it up as a tonic that inspires more reading. It also inspires more writing for me.
  3. Green Salmon Coffee Shop. Again, not certain if it’s the right name, but if you find the Green Salmon place in Yachats, you’re probably there. The coffee was good but not brilliant. Their vegan, gluten-free blueberry lemon scone was a huge piece of tastebud pleasuring OMG experience. So perfect in so many elements. Take it from this scone fan, it’s one to try.
  4. Oswego Grill. Back in Beaverton for my wife’s birthday, we went to the Oswego Grill in Beaverton where excellent lunches capped off with a sensation dessert was enjoyed. Lowly doughnut holes were the foundation. Baked on site after ordered, the holes are rolled in cinnamon and sugar. Five of them are brought hot and fresh on a plate, along with a bowl of warm caramel sauce. Chomp. Chomp, chomp.
  5. The Pacific Ocean. Like the night sky, the ocean always demands questions about existence and our niche rises when I contemplate it. Looking out to a far horizon invites a symphony of reflections about what’s beyond that earth curve and the people there, along with humanity’s history of exploration, and then, just the awesome presence that the ocean brings.

Not a fancy list, but if you get to these places – Cape Perpetua, Powell’s, Green Salmon, the Pacific – please check them out. Tell them Michael sent you. They’ll probably reply, “WTF are you talking about?”

Saturday’s Theme Music

Yes, it is a late theme music post. See, it’s Saturday, July 16, which means it’s her b-day. The year is 2022, for the record. We spent the day feting her in the Beaverton area. Then the vacation was wrapped up by the drive south to our home valley, just five hours and 286 miles.

We awoke in Beaverton to find it had rained overnight and was still doing a little spittin’ and droolin’. Coming at 5:49 AM, sunrise was withdrawn and distant. Temp settled on 19 C for a while under a blanket of mildly threatening clouds. They faded and the temperature climbed, striking 91 F as we forged south. Sunset at home was 8:45 PM.

Our jog down I5 ended the six-day journey away from home. Nine hundred miles were added to the odometer’s tot. As much as I enjoyed seeing our friends, exploring the Oregon coast, dining out, and venturing into bookstores and coffee shops, I’m happy to be home with my floofdies. They insisted on deep obeisance and lotsa kisses and belly rubs to prove that we were who we claimed to be. They were all, “Who are you?” at first. “Are thouest the oneths who betrayest usth? The humanth who loveth usth wouldst never deign to sneak away and leave us to dependeth upon another for food.” But they came around.

Music? Why, “Birthday”, aka the birthday song by the Fab Four, the lads from Liverpool, the Beatles, according to The Neurons. Can I argue with them? Of course not.

Well, the day is done. Coffee has been consumed. So was a lovely long lunch at Oswego Grill where our dessert were donut holes baked at the restaurant, rolled in cinnamon, and served with fresh caramel. Tasty. Probably fattening. We didn’t ask.

Stay positive and so on. Here’s the tune. Please, sing along. Cheers

Friday’s Theme Music

The sun was shifting into position in the eastern sky. Gray sky emerged from the darkness as the stars shied away. We jumped into the car and headed north and then east. Our coast time was over. Shame, too. Thursday had been warm. Calm winds heralded dawn at 5:45 AM. This morning’s thermometer proclaimed 58 C was we left the hotel. They forecast 68 F as Yachat’s high. But come 9 AM, we were at PDX, dropping off friends and then heading west for our next destination.

Today is Friday, 7/15/22. Happy birthday, little sister. She’s two years younger than me, mother of two adult men, grandmother to two sweet and lovely girls.

We’re in Beaverton, outside of Portland. It’s 74 F now and will reach 83 F.

“She’s the One” by Bruce Springsteen, 1975, was found in my morning mental music stream. The Neurons put it there after someone made an innocent comment about another person being ‘the one’. Yeah. Okay, at least I get the connection, unlike some of the opaque selections they issue me. Hope you like it.

Well, stay positive, test negative, and so on. I’ve already had my coffee. Might do with another one in a little while, as that drive disrupted my normal daily flow. We’ll see.

Cheers

Monday’s Wandering Thought

He read the news article about a man stealing from people during an overnight flight. One woman had 10,000 USD and 13,000 Argentinian pesos stolen from her. He and his wife were shocked that she’d be carrying that much currency and that someone was able to steal it from her. As his wife said, “If I had that much on me on an aircraft, I wouldn’t be sleeping, and I’d probably be sitting on my purse.”

The Expensive Tickets Dream

I was in a room decorated with furniture and hangings in which purples and reds dominated. I don’t recall seeing windows but the small room with dark wooden walls was cluttered, with a low ceiling. As the dream progressed, it seemed more like a loft.

I was working on some sort of rectangular woven hanging which was shades of purple, attempting to straighten it and neatly fold it over a wooden rod, when I heard people below. As I leaned over the heavy wooden railing, I saw people coming up the narrow wooden steps. They were shouting but it was a language which I didn’t understand. Still, I shouted back at them, “No, you can’t come up here, it’s time to go.” I then met them on the steps, waving my arms and repeating what I’d said before.

I went down and outside onto a crowded and busy plaza awash in sunshine. My wife was with me. A young man in a white shirt provided me tickets for our flights. We hadn’t paid for the flights. I saw his shirt cuff as he handed us the tickets. “Playboy Style” and “Cotton” was embroidered in white thread on his white shirt’s cuffs. I thought, these tickets are going to be expensive. I then asked, but he didn’t answer. As he went away, I opened the little sheaf of papers he’d provided and saw the ticket prices. They amounted to $4,000. I said, “No, these tickets are too much.” My wife replied, “We can afford it,” to which I answered, “We can afford it, but do we want to pay that?”

Dream end

Another Airport Dream

I experienced three distinct airport dreams last night. Two were of the, ‘hey, I’m traveling in an airport’ style, once with my wife, and once without her. They were essentially just in the airport, milling around, waiting for my flights, without any events happening. The third was weird.

My wife and I were in our thirties and looked just as we would in photographs of that time. We were outside on asphalt, between low building with white siding. The buildings reminded me of military buildings erected in the late 1950s/early 1960s. Cyclone fencing encircled the site. Beyond were tall pines and firs in a sandy but flat land sketchy with broken asphalt and foundations where other buildings had been torn down.

We talked as we waited. I asked, “I wonder how much of this land and these buildings are going with us?” Because it was my understanding that they would fly us out by lifting the land we were on. I was struggling to visualize that process.

As time passed, we drifted into another area. Tall, fat, white, cylindrical pillars held ceiling up hundreds of feet above our heads. The paved area was open on all sides. People in knots, clumps, groups, were waiting all around although the center was clear. I walked around a while, looking, wondering when we were leaving, then found that I’d lost track of my wife. As I looked for her, I heard an announcement that our flight was ready and that we need to return to our places.

A stocky pale man with short hair, a red baseball cap, and a goatee asked, “Are you looking for your wife?” As I nodded and replied, “Yes,” he said, “She went to the Starbucks,” and pointed. I turned and saw my wife up on a platform, waving at me. Thanking the man, I walked toward her and waved her toward me, telling her, “Come on. It’s time.”

A House Dream

I was split about what I was calling this dream because of its varying facets. WTH.

I was a teenager. I’d biked back to visit an area where I previously lived, to see the friends still living there.

But my friend wasn’t home. Platinum blonde and white, with hair and clothing styles lifted from the 1960s, aunts and older female family friends were there and told me, “Make yourself at home.” I was in the kitchen with them and felt uncomfortable because it wasn’t my place. They scoffed away those protests while they stayed busy chatting and doing things.

The large, bright kitchen was fresh, airy, and uber-modern. Hidden doors and cupboards were everywhere. The refrigerator opened and unfolded like a transformer toy and held an amazing amount of food. My astonishment rabbited higher with every revelation.

One aunt was looking for cheese. Announcing, “I can’t find it, I have to go to the store for it,” I replied, “Wait, no, I know where it’s at.” I showed her some unfolding refrigerator section that she didn’t know about where the cheese was tucked away.

After that, I walked around the home’s bottom level. My friend’s mother returned home at that point. Short and fair, blue-eyed, with pink lipstick and white gold hair cut like Marlo Thomas in “That Girl”, she told me that I was welcome to stay as long as I like. I demurred but walked around because the house fascinated me. The living room had two large, comfortably furnished conversation pits, but the back of the living room had two natural reflecting pools surrounded by cliff walls. I saw my friend’s Mom take her bikini top off and sit back, relaxing and meditating, but looked away, not wanting to impose on her.

Going on through the house, I found a large green lawn adjacent to the living room. No walls separated them. Another front door led into that area from the outside. Two front doors! I was quite impressed and thought, every house should have two front doors. It made sense.

I had my bike now, and pushed it toward the house’s back, where I encountered the ocean. Yes, there was a large beach, reminiscent of central California, inside their house, or the house wasn’t closed in on that end. I couldn’t decide which it was as I enjoyed the crashing waves and different bird varieties.

My friend still hadn’t returned. I decided to head home. I pushed my bike back up into the living room. Seeing his mother, still topless by the reflecting pool, I called out to her, “I’m going home now. Thanks for everything.”

She came to me, putting a tee shirt on as she did, and asked questions about my planned route home. Announcing she was going that way, she said that she’d ride with me, and pulled her bike out. She was doing some shopping that way.

We rode our bikes along a rutted narrow dirt road filled with potholes and talked. She asked me why I liked her. I told her because she was intelligent, clever, charming, and beautiful. I raved a bit about her house, which I thought was amazing. She was distant in reply; I realized she wasn’t paying attention but was focused on riding her bike.

We arrived at a little market where she wanted to stop to buy bubble gum. Small wicker buckets at angles on wooden platforms abounded in a cramped, small stall. She told me to pick out some gum for myself and then said, “Oh, I need to get tongue for the dogs.”

“Tongue?”

She was holding up several packages. “Oh, yes, they love it.”

I was bewildered. “But isn’t that bubble gum?” Then I thought, who would make tongue-flavored bubble gum? I must have misunderstood.

That’s where it ended.

Two Directions Dream

The dream upset me. First was one with the usual military overtones. Superintendent of a command post, fixing it up, blah, blah, blah. I experience so many dreams of that ilk.

It segued into a road trip dream. I was in one car, a red convertible, top up, with a friend. It was a shiny, impressive car. My wife was with a female friend and a coupe in another car. The friend and I in the red car were talking about where we were going, when we were getting there, when we should leave. We agreed, we were prepared to leave; let’s go.

The other car had been parked beside us. I got out to go speak with them and discovered them gone.

Shock surprise went through me. I returned to the car. “They left,” I told my friend.

“They left?” He was as incredulous as me. “Where’d they go?”

“I don’t know.”

I called my wife. After she said, “Hello,” I asked, “Where are you guys? Where’d you go?”

She laughed. “We went to go have a party.”

“A party?” I swallowed the phrase with amazement. “We’re due to leave. We’re supposed to on the road now, starting our journey. Why did you leave? Why didn’t you say something first?”

That’s where the dream ended.

The Baggage Dream

I thought this a great dream to experience on New Year’s Eve/Day. I was traveling as a young man. Not sure what the transpo means were. Seemed like a planes, trains, and automobile variation. I’d stopped at a cafe to eat. It seemed like a cafe but it had a huge eating area, lot of floor space, and many tables. It was packed with travelers. Most were happy. Many were children and families.

I found a place and put my baggage on a table, then went up and ordered. Just three people were behind the counter, serving all these people. I ordered a sandwich. I thought it would take a while but the sandwich was quickly prepared and given to me. I took it back to my table to eat.

While I ate, I decided to clean out my baggage, which was a dark burgundy backpack. As I went through, I discovered it was full of stuff from previous travels. I frequently recognized things from visits to other places, and chuckling, tossed most of it into the trash. Then I neatly tidied what I was keeping. When I finished, my baggage was light, clean, and organized. I went on to meet my father. He was there to give me a gift. I told him that I was on my way to a new job. He was pleased for me.

Happy new year.

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