I witnessed sunrise in Pittsburgh, PA, from an Airbus window as it landed at Pittsburgh International Airport. Pittsburgh sunrise was at 6:56 and I was arriving at 6:32. 68 C in Pittsburgh then, just like home, but much more humid. Sunset came at 7:38. Back home, we hit 101 F but Pittsburgh’s weather delivered a friendlier 74 F.
Today is Saturday, September 10, 2022. Mom is doing much better, a steep relief. Still in the hospital but matters are getting under control, and she might be released in a week. Depends on what happens with the fluid in her heart and her pacemaker.
Back in my home zone. Left it in 1972 but have consistently returned to see Mom and the sisters. But man is my body’s personal clock running awry. Ate breakfast at the hospital at 8:30, visited with Mom and family until 11:30, back to Mom and a nap for two hours. Lunch at 4 PM, back to the hospital to visit with Mom and then home again at 6:30. Call to wife to update her, then unplanned crash until 8:30. Now here I sit, posting the theme music.
Employing their sense of humor, The Neurons cranked up Dr. John with “Right Place, Wrong Time” from 1973. Oh, ha, ha, ha, hilarious, you neurons. Interspersed with all that were two quite bizarre dreams.
So here is the music. You be positive and test negative. Wear a mask and have a good one. Coffee? Now? Really? No, I think it’s too late. I might go for a piece of that triple chocolate cake in the kitchen, though. Anyone up for some cake?
It’s up to 59 F outside. But the buttery morning sunshine delivered at 6:44 is now smoked over. Our lovely sky has rocketed relatively healthy lime green 48 on the air quality scale to 197. The high temperature today will be 103 F. Sunset, 7:31 PM.
Today is Friday, September 9, 2022. I’m waiting to begin my travel home. Tucker volunteered to inspect the bag and floofervise the process. On the other end of phones and texts, my youngest sister is reporting on Mom. Hospitalized for COVID complications and an appendix first thought ruptured but then found perforated, Mom has a lot of issues. A pacemaker was installed a few years ago. A diet of Kools and Salem cigarettes has left her with COPD and emphysema. The physicians discovered that she punctured one of her lung’s lobes. She’s also retaining fluid. Her O2 levels keep dropping to 70 or lower. Without much surprise to me, this 87-year-old woman has declared, “Enough. I’m tired. I’m done.”
My older sister has just arrived there from Atlanta. Another sister can’t attend because she’s COVID positive. The fourth sister is on her way back to the hospital. So is Mom’s partner. I won’t get there until tomorrow. The time, drama, and decisions give me a lot to think about.
The Neurons have a song by The Who circulating in the morning mental music stream. Released in 1971, “Gettin’ in Tune” has often been a standby song for me when I’m reflecting on choices and getting ready to travel. I understand why The Neurons have posted it.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, etc. I’ve had coffee. Might have more. Here is the music. Hope your Friday is a good one.
6:20 AM. It was about twenty-two minutes before sunrise. I was in front of my house, talking to Papi, the floof is who also hailed as the Ginger Prince and the Slender Blade. My house front faces west. Clouds were rolling in over the western horizon. They surprised me because they were contrary to expectations.
Rain began. Big, fat diamond drops. Wow, cool, I thought. 6:21, the rain stopped.
Although the day grew lighter with the sun’s presence, I couldn’t see it. It was already 22 C at that point heralding that the forecasts that we’ll strike 100 F today are probably right. Air is fresh and clean and in the green.
8:08 AM. The Slender Blade and I were in the backyard speaking with the other house floof, Tucker, the black and white fella also known as Your Lordship. Sunshine cracked in between spaces shaped by a roof and a tree. Rain showered down for ten furious seconds and then stopped. Seems like Wednesday, September 7. 2022, will be an interesting day.
Mom is in the hospital, taken in yesterday afternoon after falling at home, all COVID related. Word this morning is that she ruptured her appendix. She was also severely dehydrated. Fingers crossed that she and the medicos work their way through these issues.
While I was floof visiting and noting the weather this morning, I looked to the south and reflected, it’s been a long time since we’ve gone south, i.e., into California. Wildfires and COVID, of course. Plus, expensive.
But The Neurons heard me saying something about traveling south in my head. Right away, they plugged a song by Alice in Chains, “I Stay Away” (1993), into the morning mental music stream.
Here’s the music. I’ve had my coffee. Heading to an appointment to have a Ziopatch applied. Stay positive, test negative, and so on. Cheers
It’ll be 103 F today, so we have that to look forward to. Everything is relative, so it could be worse. Fire might be consuming us, flooding drowning us, or hurricanes and cyclones could be blowing us away. A roulette wheel of disasters is possible.
The sun, though, never intimates these things. Rising at 6:41 this morning, the sunshine provided a sweet sight in the cool morning. Bathing the forested hills and pines with gentle light, illuminating a Technicolor blue sky, it seemed like the world was close to perfect. Perhaps, for that period, in that slice of valley, it was.
It’s 83 F now, getting hot fast. Haze now scuffs the sky. We still have workable breathing air — 62 on the scale, yellow and moderate — as shifting winds and high pressures protect us from wildfire smoke. Idaho is blazing away to the northeast. Several California infernos are drawing news and attention. The three that generally plague us, Mill Creek, McKinney, and Rum Creek, are all within seventy-five miles, are burning but containment is growing on them. Fingers crossed. When I mentioned this on FB and note that I’m safe, my siblings and their hubbies urge me to move east to where they reside.
This is Tuesday, September 6, 2022. Sunset will be at 7:36 this evening.
The Neurons dug into the mind section dedicated to when I was a thirteen-year-old living in Pittsburgh, Pa, in 1969. One of the songs dominating the air that summer was “Hot Fun in the Summertime”, a groovy, funky piece of rock by Sly and the Family Stone. Hope you find some enjoyment in it. Came to me as I was walking the hills as the land cooled down just before sunset yesterday.
Stay positive and test negative. I’ve had coffee but another cup is calling. Who am I to deny that coffee the pleasure of satisfying my tastebuds and stimulating my brain? Not I, sir. Not I.
Monday, September 5 of 2022 dropped in for a visit. I asked her how she was. She answered, “I’m on holiday.”
Yes, it be Labor Day in the U.S., the culmination of a three-day weekend. Many turn it into a four-day weekend by asking for Friday off.
Beautiful morning here. 17 C after a clear, languid sunrise at 6:40 AM today. AQI says our air is green, 17. Purple Air makes us green and 2. A high of 93 F is on the menu for today. They tell me sunset will come at 7:38 this evening. Who am I to argue with them about that?
The Neurons are celebrating Labor Day with “Waitin’ for the Bus”, a 1973 song by ZZ Top. It has an urban blues feel to it which I’ve always enjoyed. Used to listen to it in high school art class, as our teacher invited us to bring in music.
Hope your Monday is the best it can be for you. Stay posi, test negy. I’m getting ready to coffee up. Here’s the tune. Cheers
When the sky rolled over again, we saw land. Scrambling off the raft and through the water, we came to a shore. Jersey solemnly pronounced, “This is Sunday.”
Now, it’s September 4, 2022, Labor Day in the United States, a holiday to celebrate working people. Many must work during the celebration because work never ends. Our smoke is better today, but good news is thin when it comes to the fires and fighting them. Fingers crossed, positive energy for those areas, prayers if that’s your thing, for them. Air quality for us is hovering at 100 but the smell is much better today. My eyes are only tearing a little, there’s less ache in the back of my throat, and the snot faucet has been turned off. I call that an improvement.
Only reached 85 F yesterday. Winds shifted and pressures moved. Today it’s 18 C now with a high of 90 F lurking out there. They’re forecasting a steady rise back to triple digits this week, and then a general cool down as we laze toward autumn. A leisurely sunrise was witnessed by those looking to the East at 6:39 AM. Look west at 7:40, and you’ll catch the ‘setting’ sun.
I have “Candida”, a 1970 song by Tony Orlando and Dawn in the morning mental music stream. The Neurons put it there when the cats and I went out back to do a sniff test. Lovely cold air and no bonfire scents made me think of the air as fresh and clean. Those words are lyrics in “Candida” so The Neurons fired up the song faster than you can say, “What?” Tony Orlando and Dawn wasn’t slotted in between The Who, Led Zep, and Pink Floyd as part of my regular music rotation, but the group made it big. Their sound regularly graced AM pop stations and television variety shows. Mom liked their songs, so whenever we were in the car and one came up, it wasn’t unusual for her to tip the volume up two notches.
“Candida” is a repeat. The last time The Neurons volunteered the song was in Feb. of 2019, and it was because of dreaming. See how The Neurons work my mind?
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, etc. The coffee signal has just gone up, and I must respond. Have a Happy Labor Day, if it applies to you. If not, have a happy day. Here’s Tony and the girls. Cheers
Touching a sword to the day’s shoulder, I dubbed Saturday Lastallday. I’m alluding to the smoke. Fires are on three sides. Two in California and one, Rum Creek, in Oregon. The newest is Mill Fire by Weed down I-5. It’s like bonfires lit the night out there as a burnt wood smell permeates existence and ash collects on plants and cars. Depresses the bejeesus out of me, hence the name, Lastallday, as in, I hope this air doesn’t last all day.
Bad as we have it, far worse for the people enduring thesmoke and fire aspect of it. Evacuations are spreading, animals are fleeing, people are praying, and they’re losing homes and possessions. Another weary year of drought, fire, and smoke with reports coming in that it’s only going to get worse in the coming years.
Hi. Today is September 3, 2022. Sunrise lit our environment in red gold as Sol rays were given scarlet hues by smoke particles at 6:39 this morning. Not a cloud in the sky, we’re bathing in cool air, 17 C, which would be lovely if it wasn’t smoke laden. A high of 100 F is in the works before the night shift takes over at 7:42 PM.
My wife is bummed out. Lake of the Woods Resort isn’t far away. Each summer Saturday, they have a BBQ and then a southern Oregon band plays and everyone dances. We’d created a tradition of trekking up there a few times during summer to celebrate and have fun. Well, COVID holed the tradition for the last two years. This year, it just fell apart. Our June plans fell through, and now our Labor Day plans have gone kerplunk. She’s in a mood, which puts me in a mood. The blazing hot, smoky day does little to alleviate our outlooks. Hope it doesn’t last all day.
I really like that expression, ‘bummed out’. Certainly stocks my mind with interesting imagery.
I’m not much help for my wife. Focused on writing after denying myself the opportunity while other things were pursued at her behest. First, the push to stay in the military. Get that retirement. “You’ll write when you retire from the Air Force,” she told me. Then I retired in 1995 and wanted to move somewhere to make that plan so. “I have a career here,” she said, referring to her advertising employment in Silicon Valley, SF-San Jose California edition. “So I don’t want to move.” But also, I needed to work because that place is hella expensive. After a few years, her employment was over and I was embedded in corporate life, which lasted a few decades, because someone needed to bring in income. And here we are.
Yeah, I’m bitter. Sorry about the self-pity spiel. I’ll try not to do that again.
Checked on Mom. She and her partner are still recovering from COVID. Mom is on molnupiravir under an FDA EUA.
Catching note of my mood, The Neurons saw that I yearned for other times, for times in the near past when I could walk outside, breathe pleasant air and plan activities without worrying about wildfires, smoke, or COVID-19. The Neurons fished around those circulating thoughts and drew out Nirvana and “Come As You Are” from 1992. The Neurons argue that my thoughts reflect my mood of 1992, when the future looked so bright, I had to wear shades. Right.
Here’s the tune. Time to get some magic elixir in me, ye ol’ black brew, kaffee. Test negative, stay positive, and on and on and on. Cheers
The particulars are not impressive. Friday. September 2, 2022. 73 F now, 99 F later. Purple air, 148, not healthy for some, limit exposure. A pleasant sunrise complete with jay squawking at 6:37 AM, sunset ensuing at 7:43 PM. No clouds in the sky, but wildfire smoke grays the blue.
Mom tested positive for COVID this week. Born in 1935, with existing underlying conditions, it’s a worry. Sounded horrid on the phone and is dealing with a range of symptoms. Picked it up from her partner, who picked it up from his daughter, who picked it up from her high school reunion. So it goes. He tested and has symptoms but appears to be recovering. Mom is on a new med being evaluated in clinical trials with the FDA. The dice have been tossed. We’ll see how they come up.
Musically, The Neurons have Bob Seger doing “Shakedown” in the morning mental music stream. The song is from the 1987 film, Beverly Hills Cop II, an Eddie Murphy vehicle. This can get confusing because a movie with the same name as the song, Shakedown, with Peter Weller and Sam Elliott, came out the next year.
The song came into my head last night for unexplained reasons. Now, what’s interesting to me is that I knew I used this song before as the day’s selected them music, so I looked it up. It was on September 1, 2019. Weird to me that the song is in my mind on September 1 on two different years. Coincidence? Aliens? Witches? Quantum entanglement? Feline manipulation? None of it can be ruled out.
Stay positive and test negative. Take precautions as needed. I need coffee, you know? Then it’s off to write. Here’s the music. It’s a muddy video, but the sound is fine, and you can taste the flavor of the film, and those times, way back in the late 1980s. No, don’t do the math. Have a good life. Cheers
The bers landed early this morning, while most of us pursued sleep. First of these is September, harbinger of seasonal changes and falling leaves in much of the northern half of our planet. South of zero, spring is shaping up.
It’s Thursday the First, 2022. Long may she rule, but it’ll likely be just twenty-four hours. We have another hot flash with poor air in store for us in my valley. Probably a 99 F high. Our air is purple on the chart, with a reading of 187 attached to it and a warning not to prolong your time outside. It’s 21 C right now, which would normally be pleasant, but this smoke is trapping the heat. Can you say stifling?
With all this, sunrise was surprisingly clear and pleasant at 6:36 AM, the sort of rising sun that makes you smile in appreciation of life and the world. Night’s duties commence at 7:45 PM. Last night’s sunset was a hot furnance red display. The biggest difference about the dwindling daylight hours with its later sunrise and earlier sunset is that it’s a more abrupt transition. Whereas in May through July, it’s quite light before the dawn and stayed light a bit after sunset, darkness more frequently prevails in those hours.
The smoke has not given the sun protection that I thought, only shaving off one degree from the high temps of the last several days. Two fires are spooning this smoky flow into us, one in California, and Oregon’s Rum Creek fire, less than an hour away on I-5.
The Neurons are enthusiastic about “Pumped Up Kicks” this morning. They’re not forthcoming about their reasoning. I suspect it’s a byproduct of reading the news. PUK by Foster the People was released in 2010. It’s a dark song against a pop beat about a human with a gun shooting others for the fun, because of how it makes them feel.
An unusual song. Stay positive and test negy, and do what you can. I will do the same as soon as sufficient coffee is imbibed to satisfy The Neurons. Here is la song. Cheers
Something crashed into me. Once mental equilibrium was restored, I raged, “What happened.” Looking around, I discovered that I’d been hit by Wednesday. Right in the middle of the week, too. Examining it in the mirror, I admired a developed welt and darkening contusion. Wednesday was leaving a mark. That’s how life goes for Day Hunters. Sometimes they strike back.
This is August 31, 2022, which happens to be September Eve. Naturally, I’m gonna dress up and party, as my tribe has done since they first illuminated recorded history.
Sunrise broke night’s grip on the valley at 6:35 AM. Night fled but vowed to return at 7:47 tonight. I admired his willingness to express such a specific time in this day of vague promises. It’s a lovely 21 C right now, but Purple Air says wildfire smoke from Rum Creek to the northwest and another blaze in California pours a blend into the air that makes it red, 148, and unhealthy for sensitive folks. That must include me. I’m zinging sneezes and coughs to beat the band (an expression that seems very confusing and leaves me wondering about its origins). Eyes are teary and the nostrils are smarting. So, I’ll take precautions, y’all, if I were me, which I think I am.
The Neurons have plucked a Stevie Wonder song out of the 1965 memory cells and loaded it into the morning mental music stream. I always loved the energy of “Uptight (Everything Is Alright)”. Knowing this, following a successful writing expedition which naturally also rendered me anxious (does this work or am I fooling myself?), The Neurons kicked the song on in a game effort to reassure me.
Over to you, Jim. Here’s the music. I’m setting off into the kitchen’s darkest corners in a quest to find a cup of hot, black coffee. Come at your own peril if you wish. Stay positive, test negy, and so on. Don’t look know, my fellow Americans, but Labor Day weekend is rising out of the calendar’s murky depths. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 