Well, that’s life. I’ll just roll myself up in a big ball…

Life –
and I don’t suppose I’m the first
to make this comparison –
is a disease:
sexually transmitted,
and invariably fatal.
Neil Gaiman
Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Well, that’s life. I’ll just roll myself up in a big ball…

Life –
and I don’t suppose I’m the first
to make this comparison –
is a disease:
sexually transmitted,
and invariably fatal.
Neil Gaiman
head feels like lead
you’re stuck in bed
blame it on the snow
blame it on the snow
you’re feeling low
and have nowhere to go
blame it on the snow
blame it on the snow
life is passing you by
counting days until you die
blame it on the snow
blame it on the snow
stuffing your face
with cheese and cake
blame it on the snow
blame it on the snow
can’t get to work
pet’s acting like a jerk
blame it on the snow
blame it on the snow
nothing’s on tv
not live or on the stream
blame it on the snow
blame it on the snow
can’t find a mate
being alone is your fate
blame it on the snow
blame it on the snow
you can’t tell a lie
you ate too much pie
blame it on the snow
blame it on the snow
it’s a day without sun
now you’ve got the runs
blame it on the snow
blame it on the snow
blame it on the snow
It was a challenge to put this dream together, which is so much like a jigsaw. Ironic, as I was making jigsaw puzzles in the dream.
Which is where memories say, this is how it started. Outside, among other people but working alone, I was making and putting together a jigsaw puzzle. When I finished, I had an operating and functional car. I don’t know what kind it was, except that it was a dark, sleek sports car. I was so pleased with it that I was emitting a little, “Yea,” as I surveyed it while circling it.
Others noticed my completed car puzzle and approached with astonishment and appreciation. Most said, “That’s amazing,” or, “That’s so cool.” I was agreeing with them. People asked if it worked, and I started it up for them, showing that it ran. Others asked if I could do it again, and if I could do it with more than cars.
Which I could. I kept producing things of all sizes and manner. I’d make something flat and one-dimensional, cut it up, and then create a real, functioning thing from it. People were amazed. I’d impressed myself, too, but my confident was rising. I thought, I can do this, then I can do so much more. My mind was spinning with the possibilities.
I ended up at a fête, a large, elaborate, but casual affair. I was one of several featured guests. Numerous celebrities were in residence. All made it a point to meet me, shake my hand, and congratulate me on my puzzles.
Several people asked if I could make them jigsaw puzzles. I found that I could. If they could give me a photograph, I’d cut it up and create a bust from them. Then I started doing it with phones. I could take a photo on a cell phone, draw it up into the air, and duplicate it as a full-sized image or bust, depending on the image.
I ended up in a white pavilion. People began settling at tables to eat. Vince Vaughn approached me. Trying to place me, he said, “That’s right, you’re that guy who makes those things.” I realized that he was drunk.
A hockey game was going on beside us. He didn’t understand the rules, because he was going by the old rules, and they’d changed. I started explaining that to him, but he walked off to another table. Watching him, I waited for him to return so I could finish explaining.
The dream ended.
nothing seemed to motivate me
I did nothing special
ate nothing special
and got next to nothing done
except to write this
which is really nothing
happy National Nothing Day
2020
It’s time. I didn’t want to face it, putting the reasonable off, but finally acquiescing to what needed to be done: I was replacing my Tilley hat.
I’ve had it for a number of years. Like a good companion, it’s with me all the time. I wear it all the time when walking and about ninety-five percent of the time when I’m outdoors.
It shows; the color has faded. Five inch horizontal rips gap along the crown’s front, nicely complimenting the small two inch vertical tears. I’ve taped them together.
The Tilley comes with a Guarantee-for-Life replacement policy. I went to their website and filled out the form. They responded within a few days.
Hello,
Thank you for submitting your request. We would be happy to help you with your Guaranteed for Life claim.
We do require some additional information to determine the eligibility of your item. Please reply to this email with 3 photos (.jpeg preferred as small a file as possible) of the following:
Once we receive these photos from you, we will review them and determine the eligibility of your item. You will receive an email from us within 2 business days with your next steps.
That was done. A few more days passed.
Then came their answer.
Thank you for submitting your photos. We have assessed your item and agree that it qualifies for the Guaranteed for Life Policy.
Your Guarantee Identification Number is RMA#G00665
Good news! You no longer have to return your item to us in order to get a replacement!
In order to complete your request, we require the following information:
Once we have received your photos and credit card information, you order will then be processed. Please allow up to 2 weeks for your replacement hat to be shipped. We will email you once your order has shipped.
Destroy my hat? Shudders swept me as I read these words. Yet…yet…the time had arrived. The Tilley was failing. I needed a new hat.
So I took the Tilley for a final walk in the snow. After he dried out, the cats gathered. I played taps on Youtube, cut off the crown, and took the ghastly pictures.

The deed is done. Now I await my new hat.
Crumbs populated his keyboard, slipping between the keys, forcing him to ponder, what did I eat and when did I eat it?
That made him hungry. He attempted to pick some crumbs up for closer examination, and perhaps to taste — just for investigative reasons, of course (that one looked like it may have come off a chocolate-chip cookie) (when did he eat a chocolate chip cookie?) -but the crumbs fled his efforts like kittens scattering at a noise, undermining his investigative process.
It did promote a greater appetite (if he trusted the messages that his stomach was issuing). Nothing healthy was offered for sale here, and he didn’t want to leave to eat somewhere else. Therefore, his logic forced him into a less healthy choice, which turned out to be a raspberry scone.
It was just a one-time deal, he told himself, so it would do no lasting harm.
He blamed it on the crumbs.
After thinking about dreams and posting today’s theme music (“Highway Star”, Deep Purple, 1972), I was fixing brekkie when a dream segment blasted into memory.
I was a child, maybe nine or ten, but could’ve younger, outside with many other children. Blue sky, sunshine, laughing, and game-playing established the background. We were having a great time.
I was heading toward a picnic table by tall pine trees when I heard others gasping. That caused me to look up. When I did, I discovered it was raining. No clouds were visible, but rain was falling.
A bold, shimmering rainbow formed. It seemed like it was right over our heads, so close and solid that we were trying to jump up and touch it. Then the rain became drops of falling color. The colors splashed over us, making us giddy with laughter. We discovered we could cup our hands and catch handfuls of color and pour them over ourselves and one another. Blues, purples, reds, yellows, oranges, and greens were pooling on the ground and streaming together into rainbows that flowed across the land.
Splashing and stomping in these flowing rainbows, we discovered that we could pick up the colored water and shape it like very wet and malleable clay.
The dream ended.
My heart rushes as I remember it.
a bit of rain
a bit of snow
a little wind
a little sun
a splash of heat
a blanket of cold
just another southern Oregon day
Plenty of us are like most of us
trying to be like some of us
hoping to be one of us
just like a few of us
it just depends on the day