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.
I’m away from home, so I worry about my floofies. Per the instructions I left with the cats, I logged onto Zoom today at the appointed time. They immediately joined to purr and complain to me. A little of both. They said the weather isn’t bad the human caretaker I hire was doing ‘okay’.
Yeah, that’s fantasy. There wasn’t a Zoom con with the cats. I did call the caretaker and she said they’re doing great. Next best thing to being there with them.
It’s Monday, July 31, 2023. Yes, this time it really is Monday. Yesterday had me thinking Sunday was Monday. I have it screwed on right.
So, it’s a mixed mood. We’re on the beach, renting a house in Gold Beach with friends. That’s our back porch view from 8 AM. Not bad. Clear weather, about 60 degrees F, full sunshine, the whole shebang.
Here to relax with others. But I miss my writing and routines. I’m required to socialize, and I’m awkward at doing so. Especially when solitude and silence are scarce. My wife is sympathetic — she does know me after over years of being together from middle teens to now — but t’ain’t anything to be done about it. Things collide.
Interesting tense moment during the drive yesterday. Was on a two-lane highway, third car in line, carving up the mountains between southern Oregon and Nor Cal at a speed varying from 55 to 65 MPH. heading for the coast. Rounding a corner, I saw a woman starting to cross the road. I then saw her stepping back. A truck in the other lane was stopped to turn. I looked back up in time to see the two cars ahead of me slam on their brakes. Shouting, “Jesus Christ,” because I knew I couldn’t stop in time, I veered into the other lane and flattened the brake pedal against the floor. As I wrestled with the steering to keep the car straight, the car slewed about, tires chirping, chassis shuddering, traction control and antilock kicking in. We stopped and no one was hit. While I appreciated that the first car’s driver was being polite, stopping on a highway around a blind corner where the speed limit is 65 might not be sensible. Afterward, my wife and I agreed, we didn’t need any coffee for the day.
Der Neurons chose today’s music based on another moment from yesterday. Last night, I went upstairs to bed. I was last and it was late. I didn’t want to turn on lights and disturb anyone, so I went up in the complete darkness. Man, was it black and lightless. Going slowly, feeling with my feet as I climbed, I experienced a weird sensation that the black ahead of me was solid. What a trip.
Anyway, thinking about it, Les Neurons punched up “On the Dark Side” by Eddie and the Cruisers, aka, John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band for the morning mental music stream (trademark explored).
Now I’m off to trek the beach for a while before the sea breeze cranks up too high. Stay pos, be strong, and live the day. No coffee for me, thanks; already had two cups.
A beautiful day has been born in Ashlandia, where the produce is local, except for the imports. We’ll call this Sunday, July 30, 2023. Skies of blue promise don’t know anything about smoke, and sunshine is spilling down. 56 F now, 89 F is the projected high, quite doable numbers.
A short post. I’m getting on the road to another city here shortly. So I’m eating coffee and drinking breakfast — oh, wait, other way — and then I’ll be in the bath for the standard three morning maneuvers which start with S. Then I’ll dress. That’s right, I’m naked and posting. No, not really. I’m in my night shorts. They were originally sold to me as jogging shorts but they work so well with a tee shirt, that it’s my chosen sleep gear. Today’s tee shirt features the Blues Brothers and was picked up in Chicago at Buddy Guy’s bar.
Since I’m going on the road again, my oh so imaginative Neurons have packed the morning mental music stream (trademark visualized) with Willy Nelson singing “On the Road Again”. You know that’s gotta be my theme music on this day.
All you on the road have safe travels. Whether on the road or not stay positive and be strong. Keep your eyes on the road and your hands upon the wheel. Here’s the music. More coffee, anyone?
I dreamed again that I was in my home office but my home and yard had been lifted intact to travel through space. I dreamed that, as I had done in real life, I awoke and looked at my open windows. For a moment, in the dream, I worried that my windows were open to the vacuum of space and that all would be sucked out and destroyed. Then I knew, no, a bubble around the house enclosed and protected me. It provided me air and kept me and my household and its members safe even as we flew through space. Stepping to the window, I raised lowered my blinds and gazed out as the house rushed through black space, destination unknown.
I dreamed I was traveling through space. My house and its lot had been lifted away from the Earth, and there we went, soundlessly zooming through space. After thinking in the dream, is that what’s happening, I was given a distant perspective that confirmed, yep, there I go, with the house, wife, cats, and yard.
I pointed it all to my wife, calling to her as she did something in another room. All I had no idea what our destination was and had questions — was I onboard a larger ship, and who launched us like this — I enjoyed being out there. I was exactly as I now am, as was my house and yard. I saw this from a temporary external position, as though I needed to see it, before returning into my body. Settling behind my desk in my home office, I resumed my typing.
I awoke abruptly. In panic, I thought, where are the cats? Where are Tucker and Papi? Did I put them out? OMG, did I put them out in space? But if I put them out into the yard, wouldn’t they be safe, because it’s — it’s — wait.
Confusion mounting and taking over, I stumbled away from bed, thinking, where am I now? What should I do? If I open the door, would it — what would happen? But —
I’d been in space. But wasn’t that a dream? Or was I now dreaming? Neurons regrouping, we agreed with a laugh, being in space was the dream. Reality was that I was home, securely part of the Earth. But I went out and found the cats, ensuring they were really okay, just in case, you know, and then gazed up at the stars and moon for a few seconds with recollection of the dream.
TL/DR – went up north to get my REAL ID. An overnight trip. The cats are happy we’re home. Gonna get hot here in the next few days.
A late post to the day. We’ve returned to Ashlandia, where the temperature is 85 F, the time is 7:07 PM, and the people are sweaty. Been away today, heading north on the great driver license quest yesterday. See, I turn 67 next week and license expires. Being over 65 means renewing must be done in person so they can check my eyes, a fifteen second step in the entire process. But let’s go back to the start.
Got the notice a few months ago and began to plan. First thing I learned is that Ashlandia’s DMV office is open three days a week, seven hours on Tuesday and Thursday, and six hours on Wednesday. Second, the line gets long very quickly. People are outside an hour before, waiting for the office to open. Third, there are no appointments available. I tried making one for weeks, again, again, again, again, again.
I checked the Medford DMV, twenty-five miles up the road. No appointments to be found — again, again, again, again, again. Next was Grants Pass, fifty miles away. No appointments. But Canyonville, up Interstate 5, 85 miles away, had appointments. So I will go, I decided. My wife said she would accompany so we decided that we’d go on to Eugene to shop for books, shoes, clothes, and stay overnight. See, a wedding is coming up in a few months. Quite formal, one of my nephews, and we’re gonna be there.
After making the appointment, I told several friends about my efforts. One related that his son just renewed his license. I don’t know why he didn’t do it online, but he went down to the DMV office in Medford, where he resided, four times. Finally arrived one morning half an hour before the office opened. Got in line. Finished four hours later.
I could have done that, I suppose, just keep going to the DMV and getting in line and waiting, rather than racing up the highway. But a road trip is more fun than sitting around for me.
Anyway, one of the other friends mentioned that he’d tried renewing in Ashlandia, and then in Medford, and found the waits exasperating. As he and his wife had to go to Portland, they stopped in Canyonville. He walked into the DMV and had it all done in minutes.
Well, I arrived yesterday at the Canyonville DMV fifteen minutes before my appointment. Walked in. One person working in there. Fifteen people waiting. Everyone had a number. But I had an appointment. Where do you go if you have an appointment? There was no guidance.
The person being served finished. The sole agent called for the next number. I headed toward the counter. A woman leaped up and said, “I have a ten fifty appointment.” Her name was checked, appointment verified. I said, “I have an eleven o’clock appointment.”
The agent said, “Wait on the red carpet. That way, we’ll know you have an appointment.”
Ah, the red carpet, of course! The three by three foot red carpet. How could I have not known that? That’s how her friendly but snarky tone sounded.
A little after eleven, a second agent snuck into the work area and called the next number. I said, “Excuse me, but I’m standing on the red carpet!”
Quickly the agent bowed. “Please forgive me and come forward.”
No, just in my imagination. Actually, I just told the new agent what I had an eleven o’clock appointment. She asked me my name and we began. It was a quick ordeal, barely long enough to call it an ordeal. Funniest part was that I wear glasses to drive but forgot to put them on when I did the eye exam. “Perfect,” the agent said. “Do you wear contacts?”
“No, I just forgot to wear my glasses.”
Supposed to get hot tomorrow, with sunshine exploding with heat and dry, calm air moving it, the low nineties are anticipated. Gonna be that way, getting warmer, for a few weeks, not just in Ashlandia, but in southwestern Oregon.
Returning today, the cats were happy to see us. Papi was relieved to be allowed back outside. Although we have a pet door installed, Tucker likes sleeping in front of it, blocking Papi’s progress and giving him stress and anxiety. So, pet door were closed, and the cats were locked in the house together with food and water for about thirty hours. Blocked windows provided them with fresh air and kept the place cool.
Today’s music came about after we watched Taylor Mac’s 24-Decade History of Music last night. It’s amazing, incredibly creative, fascinating in so many ways, and a showcase of impressive talents by multiple individuals. I surfed the net for more info about it this morning. I ended up coming a “Better Together” with Jack Johnson being done as part of Song Around the World/Playing for Change. I offer it up to you.
Stay strong, be cool, and continued to have brightly positive, as you can, when you can. Here’s the music.
My wife, SIL, and I needed to take a trip. I procured a car for us, paying cash for it. It just happens that it looked just like the 1968 Camaro RS I owned in RL in 1975, complete with stripes and black vinyl top, a fun, reliable, and sporty car. In the dream, I didn’t know that it was like my Camaro of my youth because we were youths.
I don’t know why we were traveling by car, other than going from point A to B. Tucker, a current RL cat, was traveling with us. My SIL and I took turns driving, although I did most of it. At one point while I was driving, I suddenly couldn’t control the speed. I was telling them that in the car as I tried braking, kicking the accelerator, and then trying to take the car, an automatic, out of gear, attempting to put it into neutral. When I couldn’t move the center console shifter, I concluded, “I think we’ve lost the transmission.”
I managed to get the car stopped. We got out to talk and stretch our legs. My wife was inattentive and left the car door open. Tucker immediately leaped out. I caught him and then scolded her for leaving the door open and letting Tucker out. She dismissed me and what had happened, which irked me. We decided to go on. I thought for a moment that she was going to drive, which I didn’t want for some reason. I then drove again.
We arrived at a hotel and in a dream blink, we were checked in and up in our room. I think it was in Chicago. It was a large, lavish suite, which included a butler of sorts who was also pressing us to eat or drink, telling us each time, “It’s free.” I didn’t think it was free, but included in the room. At one point, we discussed going out to dinner. The butler started making suggestions about where to go. My SIL was reading about our room during the conversation and asked, “Do you know what floor we’re on?” As my wife replied, “No,” SIL said, “We’re on the 668th floor.”
I went over to the huge windows and looked out. Seeing how high we were, I gasped. “Wow. Why are we so high?”
1973 found me living in West Virginia, having moved there the previous year, after moving to Ohio from Pennsylvania, and a high school junior. Yeah, changes were underway.
1983 – an adult, in the military, married, stationed on Okinawa with trips to Korea, China, and Japan that year
1993 – still married and in the military, in Sunnyvale, California
2003 – retired from military but still married, living in Half Moon Bay, California, working for IBM
2013 – married and in Ashland, Oregon, still with IBM
2023 – Ashland, married, retired from everything except writing
Different places and careers through the years, but the same marriage since ’75
It’s morning in Yachats. The mythical blue sky has still not been seen. The sun is playing hide and seek. We’ve been looking but it’s well hidden. Stormed all day on the coast. Rain from dawn to midnight. Gusts and gales. Rocking storm surge. Temperatures gamboled from 41 F to 42 F.
Birds returned today. They headed for shelter just like the rest of us yesterday. The rain paid a brief AM visit today, drops scampering across the roof and ground, tapering off to a mere shower. Supposed to be cresting 50 today but we’ll be gone, climbing back over the mountains and south to Ashlandia where the weather ghosts advise it’s more of the same. It’s Friday, April 21, 2023. My resting pulse is at its usual, 58. SP02 is down, 97%.
We turned off the news so we don’t know what’s going on. There’s not been a stream of cars heralding vast evacuations, no warning sirens, etc., so we think the world has trudged on without us. We ate at a favorite place, The Green Salmon. Vegan food, amazingly delicious, wonderful coffee, and that ideal coffee shop café air, where it’s less like a business and more like a passion.
Today’s music offered by The Neurons in the morning mental music stream is “Just Like Paradise.” David Lee Roth. 1987. Get it? Sure, it was just like livin’ in paradise there, even with the rain, as we were as relaxed as a cat sleeping in sunshine. Sure, the hotel wasn’t perfect. Couldn’t connect to the net, and half of the 54 listed channels on TV were advertisements or tutorials for Dish TV. But we were there to hear the waves, smell the sea, and gaze out as far as our eyes could roam the ocean’s horizon. The coast by Yachats remains raw, which is preferable to being filled with tourist bait.
Aside, Roth isn’t a favorite for me. One of my little sisters really liked him when she was a teenager but he never was my style of rock and roll when he separated from van Halen.
I’ve had coffee. Stay pos and ride Friday like it’s a magical unicorn carrying you to wherever you wish. Here’s the music. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 