Category: Travels

Another Space Traveling Dream

I again went through the space traveling dream.

This is a continuing dream series. I’ve blogged about it before three times, but I didn’t mention several other episodes, and the series fell out of fashion. Like a new TV show season, the series returned last night.

In the space traveling dream series, I’m in my house, but it’s traveling in space on an alien spaceship. I’ve never seen or heard the aliens behind this, as far as I know.

When I awaken from these, I’m often confused about where I’m at and what’s going on. Although in the very first dream space traveling dream, I thought it was cool to be in my house being transported by aliens through space. I never thought I’d make it to space, yet here I was.

Last night’s dream event was recalled when I awoke in my home office. I’d fallen asleep in a recliner while streaming the first season of Justified. Awakening, the streaming service had stopped streaming, a feature set when it’s been going awhile, so the television was silent. I was alone; Tucker had been asleep on my lap, but he’d left.

Bewilderment washed over me. I was confused about where I was. Some anxiety splashed up about forgetting to do things. I scrambled to think what I thought I should have done that I neglected. Was it about charging devices? Going somewhere? Feeding the cats?

No; it was about kitty litter. What was it about kitty litter? Oh, it was missing.

But wait; aren’t I on the alien ship? Does the alien ship have kitty litter? Do we need kitty litter in space, or is something else out there? I didn’t understand what I was thinking there, but then began worrying about kitty litter being in space’s weak gravity. I imagined it floating around, polluting the air, maybe damaging systems. Except, I was in my house, and there was gravity, so there shouldn’t be a problem, right?

Except, was the whole house there? I panicked, thinking the aliens had carried my office away from the rest of the house. Scrambling out of the office, I found the house intact beyond the door.

I wanted to look out a window for the alien spaceship. I never have seen it; I always imagine the house resting on the outside hull, which is dark as a lightless night. I have no evidence for believing that, and don’t know how it’s connected to the alien ship. Yet, I also think that if I want to, I could go into the alien ship.

Coming up on two AM, I felt it was time to hit the bed.

The thing about this, it took a lot longer to write what transpired than it took to think, panic, and scramble. It was like, from the dream, I was thinking that I was somewhere that I didn’t expect to be and then had to solve the mystery of where I was and what I was meant to do.

Hitting the bed, Tucker joined me after a few minutes. Comforting sleep was rediscovered once again.

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Friday’s Wandering Thoughts

I was in the Pittsburgh International Airport baggage area, awaiting our luggage’s arrival as though they’re rare precious animals. We’ve already taken the first needed steps after a long flight of relieving our bowels.

It’s weirdly quiet here; sounds echo in the tall, wide chamber. Other passengers sprinkle in , surrounding the system like an army laying siege to a fort. We’re all cold, with postures as though we’re huddling. Airport A/Cs are usually set low enough to preserve popsicles.

I recognize fellow travelers, such as the tall elderly man who wobbled slowly up the jetway, and the young Japanese woman in colorful fleece pants and jacket who appears as if she’s walking while asleep. Most people are silent as they wait, checking messges or reading emails on their phones; a few start talking on cell phones, giving all of us broad strokes about where they’re at, where they’re going, what’s next for them.

A harsh buzzer bellows. The red light on its single metal tube begins spinning. Mechanical grinding and groaning rises. The metallic system commences its hurried orbit around the central chute.

We watch and wait, watch and wait, arms crossed, sighing, coughing, as the belt goes around bereft of bags. Of course, it’s the end of a journey for the bags, too. Hundreds of yards away, they left the aircraft and are traveling the system. It’s supposed to go faster than the passengers, so the passengers don’t need to wait.

That has yet to happen at any airport I’ve ever used in the United States. At last comes the thump announcing the first bag. A red hard-sided piece slides down the chute with a hiss. We crane forward to see the lucky person who claims the first bag.

It isn’t me. My bag is black, I remind myself. My wife’s bag is brown leather. Sighing, I cross my arms and look forward to the next bag, watching as it bumps along, waiting for its person to show, feeling dismayed as more bags are claimed and the others trot away. Then, finally, a flush of triumph; our bags have cometh.

Bags claimed with grunts of exertion, we hustle on to the journey’s next stage: the rental car counter. There is some relief that all has gone well. I feel myself shedding travel anxiety. Every step has the potential to disrupt safe and succeful travel. Knock wood, it’s gone well for us.

We leave the baggage area tired but smiling, pressing back into the terminal against the flow of people coming down to find their bags. Good luck, I think to them.

Good luck.

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The Writing Moment

I’ve just returned from vacation. We went east, from Oregon to Pittsburgh in Pennsylvania (PIP to my brain’s shorthand) primarily for a wedding (the #3 nephew in terms of age) but also to visit family, like Mom. This took about ten days out of our usual existence. While traveling and there, I planned to write, but it didn’t work out. First, my body and mind weren’t in agreement that I should get up early. Nor was my wife (something about sleeping in while on vacation). I didn’t want to sneak out, didn’t want to abandon her on vacation while she was with me for my side of the family.

Our schedule in PIP was erratic. Some writing and editing was managed around snatches of escape. Like, on the return flight. Sometimes while at Mom’s home; a few times in the hotels.

But Mom has limited mobility these days. She’s mostly confined to her house with her partner, Frank. And everyone has a lot of that stuff called life happening to them, so my sisters and their offspring can’t visit her often, and Mom gets lonely. My presence with my wife alleviated that. Naturally, once I realized it was so, I had to live up to Mom’s hopes. Definitely opinionated, she slips into conversational ruts, especially when venting about the men of her life, past and present, politics, and the ongoing feud between several sisters.

The gist of the sisters’ feud is one felt omitted in the vacation planning. Years ago, littlest sis — we’ll call her L –and her hubby ventured to the Outer Banks on vacation and included Mom and Frank. I think that was so because they lived in the same house. The four enjoyed it so much, they went the next year, and the next. Second little sister — coded G — heard about it and invited herself, spouse, and her at-home daughter, A. They went again the next year; then G also took her other daughter — J — and J’s family. Like ants finding some good stuff and spreading the word, more family invited themselves and descended on the vacation. Planning, communications, and coordination was done to include everyone who invited themselves. That’s one key to the mess: all the subsequent people outside of the first four invited themselves.

Well, the other sister — S, the oldest of the three youngest — always claimed she and her husband weren’t invited or even told about it. This has been a continuing problem in the three younger sisters’ life: who invented or included who in what party-holiday-vacation planning and participation. Finger pointing and accusations are the standard weapons in this battle. Now it’s reached the point that G and S are not speaking to one another, which goes back to early 2022. What exacerbates the situation is that S has NEVER included anyone else in any of her vacation planning. She doesn’t tell anyone where she is going or when, and will frequently keep it a secret after the event. While L’s Outer Banks vacations began around thirteen or fourteen years ago — Mom can tell you exactly when — S’s secret vacations began in at least 1991. So, boom, G responds to S. J’accuse!

This is what I heard about in 2022 when I went back to help Mom recover from her extended COVID and heart issues. My wife wasn’t with me in 2022, so SHE needed to be brought up to date about the battle this year, at least in Mom’s opinion.

It’s part of my excuse for why I managed little writing and editing. Listening to the feud saga, not just from Mom’s POV because L, G, and S also talked to my wife and I about it, was good insight into family dynamics as well as character arcs. I mean, people arcs. Observing these disagreements and how they escalate and dictate stories and relationships is terrific for my writer side.

I did try. Mom has small house. Built in 1942 by the previous owners — Mom is the house’s second owner — the rooms are small. The kitchen abuts the living room area. The living room is where Mom sets up for the day. I set up on a breakfast bar which Mom installed in the kitchen. From there, I can see and hear what’s going on in the living room.

One of Mom’s habits should be inserted her. She’s sort of a news junkie. When she comes down and sets up her living camp, she turns the television on and tunes it to MSNBC. As her hearing has declined, she keeps it LOUD. Meanwhile, in the kitchen is a radio which is tuned to a local talk radio station. It’s on at the same time. Yes, the television and radio are on at the same time, in different rooms, even when nobody is in them. Just for fun, when Mom goes into the bathroom on that level, she’ll often turn on a radio in there, too.

And while all of these are on, she’s talking with guests and getting on her phone. It’s madness, and disruptive as a quake to me. So I’ll slip into the kitchen to get a little writing in, only to be hailed from the living room to clarify some point. Is the scene developing? It’s another point in the frustrating challenge to write while in PIP.

Now I’m back in my coffee shop, returned to my place behind my walls of routines. I think part of the issues with writing when away this time was that I’ve created this writing structure as part of my temporal order of memory and episodic memories. Going for a walk alone or being in a coffee shop has long been my methodology for inviting the muses in and triggering the writing process. I think now, minus that standard structure, the muses and writing neurons just take time off.

I missed writing while I was away from it. I had to tell myself, just breathe. This will pass. And it has. Now, I resume writing, picking up right where I detoured, entertaining myself in the world of my creation. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time. Ah, it feels so good, like a coffee addict getting their first swallow.

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Winceday’s Theme Music

Mood: ambivalent

We’re at 37,000 plus feet, 480 miles per hour. It’s Wednesday, 9/20/23. We just left Illinois behind, heading for San Francisco to Pittsburgh. Bumping ride right now, above a fuzzy streaked gray puffy cloudscape. We left coolish fall weather in Pittsburgh’s area, 56 and cloudy. The computer is reading weather from below and tells me that Chicago is 56 and rainy. We’re heading home to Ashlandia, where the dogs are above average and the cats are good looking. Ashlandia is currently 42 F and clear, but we expect sunny and 68 F as the day’s overall approach.

All went well back to the airport and onboard. Perfect timing all around. Glitchiest part was returning the Sixt rental car. Place wasn’t open, just a receptacle for the key. Say what? Nothing else? I’m suspicious. Dubious. I await the next phase of this. UPDATE: I done did it right: just drop off the keys. Nothing else required. Shazam.

Once onboard our United 737, things aren’t as rosy. Going first class because we’re fortunate, which gives us much more leg room and width, and demands less of proof of our. But my wife’s seat doesn’t go back much and her entertainment system is malfunctioning. I offer her mine; that’s imperiously dismissed. Her mood has changed fast. She engages the flight attendant about it. I can’t hear the conversation because of space and noise. The spouse doesn’t share with me what’s going on; that is the mood. Knees up against her chest, arms wrapped around her knees, eyes closed, she’s gone to a silent but angry place. I try engaging her but she doesn’t want to be engaged.

For music, I end up with “Ridin’ the Storm Out” by REO Speedway splatter through the morning mental music stream (Trademark dissected). That’s directly related to my wife’s state of mind after her issues with the flight issues with her seat. It’s like the gods of united airlines were deliberately pissing just on her.

Stay pos, be strong, stay cool, and press on. Fueled by black coffee, I’ll do the same. Here’s the music.

UPDATE: late posting, connectivity issues on der airyplane. We’re home safely, and those floofs are so over the kibble ecstatic about it. Had to feed them twice and love on them each three times. And the weather here is decisively cloudy, with dark skies beckoning rain. Hello, autumn.

Cheers

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: restless

Yes, it’s Tuesday, 8/19/23, and we’re ready to go home. Leaving on a jet plane tomorrow AM around 7, pushing us to leave the hotel at five, pushing us to get up at 4:40 AM. Ah, the inconvenience of modern travel. Still better than what it was one hundred years ago. Trying getting a flight back in the 1920s.

Meanwhile, this last day has extraordinary weather to me. Overcast, with a casual threat of rain, temperatures are hanging around the mid 60s F with some spitty hope it’ll hit 70. Don’t think it will, but the smell and feel is tres comfy to me. Sort of nostalgic and invigorating, a delightful blend, which would make a fortune if I could bottle it.

Sort of saddish ending to the trip. My sisters are busy with personal matters and their lives and we can’t get with them for that. Would like to have spent more time with them but after the wedding, the spouse and I sort of crashed, probably a reflex to relief that we’d made it, had done our part, and so on.

Now we’re focusing on getting home — see that first paragraph. We spoke to our floofsitter yesterday. She assured us all was well with the Tucker & Papi show. It’s been hot so they haven’t been eating much, which is how they often become. I’ll get home and indulge them with some extra late evening feeding and treats.

We are visiting Mom with the spare hours, and enjoying her company, along with her partner, Frank. Mom had an energy explosion in the afternoon. Inspired by the song “Hey! Baby” by Bruce Channel (1962). She was struggling to remember the song and as she spoke, the song came to mind and I sang it for her. That was it; Alexa was instructed to play it so she could sing along.

Then came David Lee Roth’s 1985 cover of “Just a Gigolo/I Ain’t Got Nobody”. She and Frank began dancing, which was fun to see; her health issues, especially with balance and mobility, have curtailed her dancing, and that was the couple’s favorite pastimes, besides eating. They still enjoy eating; I don’t know how and why they don’t wear more. They always have food on hand, and it didn’t help that my spouse and I took more food to them several times — cannolis, rolled eggplant, and one of their favors, KFC.

Well, that second song caught Les Neuron’s attention last night. They dropped it into the morning mental music stream (Trademark faltering), along with “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” by Tears for Fear, which arose from a dream. I went with ‘Mom’s song’ for the theme music.

Stay pos, be strong, don’t worry, be happy. Love life as best as you can. I’ve have had coffee, but help yourself. Here’s the beats. Cheers

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: watchful

Tuesday, September 12, 2023. At the airport. 5:05 AM, bracing myself against the chilly night air. Dawn is haranguing the eastern darkness. We were picked up at 4:20, deposited here at 4:45, waiting for our flight now. Seems to be on time. Travelers trapped in drowsy amber drag bags, watching, listening, killing time, anxiously fidgeting. My wife and I settle and chat. Worries and anxieties are voiced on her end. I do what I can to reassure her. I’ve traveled a lot, usually alone, and just roll as I need to. She tends to work herself up into indignation and irritation.

The Neurons are playing “Leaving on A Jet Plane”. John Denver. Mama Cass. Peter, Paul, and Marry.

Of course The Neurons are playing this. What else would they be playing? Well, they’re The Neurons, so that query is wholly hypothetical. They shift to “Silver Bird”. Mark Lindsay. “Jet Airliner” – Steve Miller – comes up, which is then replaced by Pink Floyd, “Learning to Fly”. “The Letter” by The Four Tops – “Give me a ticket for an aeroplane” – supersedes it, then it’s another “Learning to Fly”, this time by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. “Come Fly with Me”, Frank Sinatra follows.

I’m reminded of how it used to be to fly, when friends, relatives, lovers would escort people down to the gate. Can’t do that these days. That’s all left beyond the security’s other side.

Then a woman tells the child with her, “Come here, stand by me.” And that changes where The Neurons are hanging around. Let that, I hear “Stand By Me”, but it’s the version made by “Playing for Change”. Okay, I’ll take that, Neurons. If I can ever harness their energy, I might be able to get more done.

So here we are, and there we go, today’s theme music. I’m looking forward to getting on the aircraft and going back to sleep as we wing down to SFO from southern Oregon. Then, after I board that next flight, I’ll indulge in a cuppa joe. Just a few more minutes and boarding will begin.

Stay pos, test negative, be strong, and remain on course. Time to board. Here’s the tune. See ya. Cheers

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Saturday’s Wandering Thought

He’s planning a trip and reviewing hotels.

One rated a prospective place “10/10 – Excellent”. But their comments made him wonder:

“The room was good and bed was super comfortable however there were areas needing a little updating . Looked like there had been a roof leak in the bathroom over the shower area and the exhaust fan in the bathroom sounded like it was dying. Also the lighting in the bathroom was not very bright . The breakfast in the morning was good. Overall I’d say it was ok.”

Head shake. ‘Okay’ is far away from ‘Excellent’ is his mind.

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: reflective

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.

Here’s the music. Cheers

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The Best 3 Things of the Gold Beach Vacay

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.

  1. 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.

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: upbeat

We’re leaving the coast today and the coast weather has turned gray in sadness. Yes, that’s really what I tell myself.

It’s Wednesday (right? Is that right?), August 2, 2023. Beautiful weather until this morning. This still isn’t bad, just cool at 56 F, and a marine layer clouds. We still have that awesome ocean sight, smell, and sound. It’ll still be in the mid sixties here. Meanwhile, we’ll arrive home at 91 F. Gotta say, I’m looking forward to seeing my floof boys. I miss the goof balls when I don’t have regular access to them.

We’ll head north to see more of the coast. When we drove here, we dropped down into northern California, passing through a redwood forest, which is a wonder of its own. Now we’ll just zip north on 101 to Bandon and cut across the coastal mountains via Winston and pick up I5 south for our final leg.

The Neurons are driving “Route 66” through the morning mental music stream (trademark lost). Came about from conversations about what route to take home, natch. A terrific song, there are multiple grand covers of this song about. I ended up channeling John Mayer’s version from a Pixar movie.

Alright, fire up the coffee machine and let’s get on with the show. Be safe, be safe, be pos. It’s an exciting life. Can be depressing, can be uplifting. What what you can with the moods.

Here’s the tune. Cheers

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