Friday, October 27, 2023, slid into Ashlandia on icy paws, clear skies, and sunshine. Was 32 F. Warming now, and people are out walking among the gold, rose, and brown fallen leaves. None of the walkers kick them up, as I like to do as I march thlrough drifts on the paths.
Ashlandia, where the trees were imported and the people revere them, will reach the mid fifties by late afternoon. Now is the time to prepare for freezing weather, if you’ve not done that already. Disconnect the hoses and bring them in. Cover the outdoor faucets to protect them from freezing.
I’ve done those things. Now I need to deal with the furnace which just doesn’t seem to be warming us as we expect. Don’t suggest the thermostat or the filters; both are new and the vents are clean and unobstructed. No, some other technical challenge is behind this matter. I’ll search the net for what to do.
The Neurons hooked me up with Van Morrison in the morning mental music stream (Trademark facetious). Started while I was driving yesterday. A station played Steve Winwood doing “Higher Love”, a song I enjoy, inducing me to increase the volume and sing along. Counting Crows followed up with “A Long December” which forced my finger to find the volume button and add just a little more volume. Lenny Kravitz followed and a little more volume was added.
From that process of events, sounds, and thinking, The Neurons put “Caravan” from 1970 into the stream, where it remained this morning. That’s because of the Van’s repeatitive urging, “Turn it up. Turn it up. On the radio.” I went with the version from The Last Waltz to help release it from the mental music stream, where Van Morrison is backed by The Band. Hope you like it.
Here we go, out to westing with traffic, time, weather, writing, and intentions once again. Stay positive, be strong, and remain steadfast. Coffee is steaming from a mug beside me. Here’s the music. Cheers
Rain baptises Wednesday, October 25, 2023 in Ashlandia, where the bears are above average and the people are wary.
At 41 degrees, which feels cold with that falling rain and sun hiding behind the clouds’ skirts, I infer winter’s edge invading. There is some evidence that winters coming on, with storm warnings of snow falling above 3500 feet in the mountains north and east of us. Crater Lake, 99 miles away by winding mountain roads, is expecting the most snow.
Today’s high: (fanfare) 48 F.
For Wednesday’s theme music, The Neurons shoved “Spill the Wine” by Eric Burdon and War into the morning mental music stream (Trademark reinvented). The song and its presence is hitched to a coffee shop incident where a woman (who I assumed was mom) urged a precious looking little girl in cowperson boots and a shiny dress and a pink coat, “Don’t spill it,” as some drink was slid in the girl’s direction and she eagerly reached.
Replied the little girl in a matter-of-fact enunciation as she aimed a green plastic straw toward her mouth, “You know I won’t spill it. I’ve very careful.”
“Yes, you are,” the assumed mom replied.
Hearing that started The Neurons with that soft percussion sounds that open “Spill the Wine”. Then the sweeping organ punched up the song and the funky rythym began. It’s a memorable song, talking about being given surreal instructions about taking a pearl and digging a girl.
Stay pos, be strong, enjoy life, and keep moving forward. Here’s the music and there’s my coffee. Time to crank on, once again. Cheers
It’s cool and blue in Ashlandia, where the nights are getting longer, and the people are looking inward. 60 F now on this Thursday, the seventh day of September, 2023 in the common era, but we will experience 81 F today. I’ll take that. No wildfire smoke. The fires are slowly being contained. Last week’s rain helped. That pressure — worrying about fires encroaching on your town, your home, and eating it until only blackened messes remained — has eased.
The cats approve of the weather change. Papi remains on his out-at-night schedule, but he’s now more likely to be visible in a resting space just outside one of the doors during the day. Tucker has decided he’s an elder statesfloof, who are beings who don’t worry about details about weather and seasons.
Watching Hurricane Lee’s progress today. Another destructive storm, it is missing Puerto Rico at this point, and looks like it might lick the Bahamas. Early days, yet, but it could avoid the US eastern coast except for some tide and surf impacts. Meanwhile, some of the US in the realms of the east and south continue to endure a record-setting heatwave as they cruise toward autumn. San Antonio has had 70 days over 100 F degrees. I remember when I lived there back in 1980, we were impressed that we had eleven straight days over 100. That’s nothing these days.
Also paying attention to conversations and lawsuits addressing whether Donald Trump can or should be on ballots, discussions about the potential government shutdown, and the continuing war in Ukraine. Also interesting news and data about abortion rates was found in the NYTimes. There was too much other matters — uplifting and depressing — to go on about without caffeine.
From out of the blue — or out of the gray, I guess — The Neurons are treating me to the 1970 song, “Ride Captain Ride” by the Blues Image in my morning mental music stream (Trademark revocable). I can speculate about this song’s place in my day’s thinking. Maybe it’s because I’m thinking of my youth and this 1970 song was part of the scene in my fourteenth year, when many things are happening to a boy’s mind, body, and soul. Or, it could be the sense of focus and promise the song offers to me. Who knows what The Neurons latched onto? I certainly don’t.
Stay pos, be strong, and eat well. Here’s the music — which, um, is an interesting video, a product of the times back then. Hope you enjoy it. Coffee time, one more time. Cheers
Hey, it’s Fried-day, July 14, 2023. Birthday for one of my late cousins. Years younger than me, cancer claimed her in 2019.
Gonna be hot today here in Ashlandia, where the plays are entertaining and the musicians are local. Not OMG help hot, like AZ’s impressive daily highs, nor Palm Springs 120 F hot, but protect-yourself-family-and-pets hot, 98 F. And that’s why it’s Fried-day.
When I was being educated in the US in the 1960s, attending elementary school, teachers talked about a ‘can-do attitude’. They were always encouraging us to rise up to the challenge and find a way to overcome it. I vividly recall listening to one teacher standing before us rapt, dewy-eyed second-graders as she said, “The can-do attitude helped make America great.” Before we were taught history and learned that the country wasn’t great, that America was flawed. Yet it had to the potential to become greater, if we kept after things with a can-do attitude.
I grew up believing that we can fix things, whether it was injustice, inequality, poverty, or going to the moon. This was in the aftermath of President John F. Kennedy’s assassination. He seemed to empower ‘can-do’ for young me. No, wasn’t perfect, but he was willing to set goals, create a vision, and strive to achieve them.
Now we’re mired in a severe can’t-do existence. Money is typically the ‘can’t-do’ motivation, followed in the US by ‘Founding Fathers’. The Founding Fathers and their vision of a Democracy run by the people, for the people, are thrown up as an obstacle as people stop to think, not what is best by and for the people, but what would the Founding Fathers say and do?
I believe that attitude would have the Founding Fathers appalled. They would ask, “Have you not established a robust education system that helps people? Do you knot know how to think? Do you lack the courage and principles to come together, find solutions and move forward?”
And that’s a big now. Big reason for me, whether it’s about climate change and half the country setting new high records for high temperatures year after year, sensible gun control, or taxes, is that half the country is trying to go backward. Yes, let’s go backwards. Just bury our heads and deny what’s going on.
That shows a true ‘can-do’ spirit.
All of that explains my exasperated mood today.
I woke up with the Looney Tunes theme music in my morning mental music stream. As I went about re-establishing my existence, mocking myself as I fell into my comfortable, middle-class routines once again, The Neurons opened some “Canned Heat” and spilled “Let’s Work Together” into the morning mental music stream (trademark non-existent). The 1970 version of Wilbur Harrison’s take on “Let’s Stick Together” could be an inspiring theme song for promoting a can-do attitude. Feel the energy behind that gravelly voice, courtesy of Bob Hite, as he urges us to work together.
Together we’ll stand Divided we’ll fall Come on now, people Let’s get on the ball
And work together Come on, come on Let’s work together Now, now people Because together we will stand Every boy, every girl and man
People, when things go wrong As they sometimes will And the road you travel It stays all uphill
Let’s work together Come on, come on Let’s work together, ah You know together we will stand Every boy, girl, woman and man
Oh well now, two or three minutes Two or three hours What does it matter now In this life of ours
Let’s work together Come on, come on Let’s work together Now, now people Because together we will stand Every boy, every woman and man
Ah, come on Ah, come on, let’s work together
Well now, make someone happy Make someone smile Let’s all work together And make life worthwhile
Let’s work together Come on, come on Let’s work together Now, now people Because together we will stand Every boy, girl, woman and man
Oh well now, come on you people Walk hand in hand Let’s make this world of ours A good place to stand
You know, we do show the ability to come together. We come together to cheer performers — singers, actors, athletes — to cheer them on. And we come together to cope with disasters. We come together to offer hopes and prayers after mass shootings, floods, wildfires, hurricanes.
Honestly, can’t we begin to find a way to come together before disasters and deaths?
Yeah, I know. It’s all been said before, all been written with more inspiration before, and here we stay, stuck on yesterday, moving toward last century, burning up and and falling down.
Guess I need coffee. Stay pos, if you can, and strong. Wish you the best in whatever situation you face today, tomorrow, next month, next year.
I’m sitting at my desk at home, sipping hot black coffee. A cool breeze washing over my back through the window. Machine noises are carried in. Sounds like excavating equipment is hard at it in Ashlandia, where wine is made on one side of the valley, and beer is brewed on the other.
It’s a summer morning, Friday, July 7, 2023.
A weary state of mind has overtaken me. Just read about dark waters and the pollution causing cancer to humans and animals. Companies like DuPont do this to communities and fight against taking responsibility, while manipulating laws and lawmakers to make more money, more profits. They epitomize the worse of corporate greed. Unfortunately, they’re one of many. And our hugely right wing Supreme Court goes and guts laws to protect water and people and animals, and the right wing shouts, “Hurray. Freedom.”
That article was atop reading about the proliferation of shootings across the nation on this holiday week. How these murders are enabled by the NRA, with right-wingers heartily going along with it, shouting, “Hurray. Freedom.” Death doesn’t mean much to the pretend ‘pro-life’ party called the GOP.
The GOP party has become the party of minority rule — meaning a rule of one. One person in many GOP led states can complain about a book and have it taken off shelves. One person can take up an automatic weapon and go shoot up a school, a synagogue, church, workplace, neighborhood, resulting in deaths and the ruination of many lives and that party will continue to shout, “Freedom.” They write into laws against others, and shout, “Freedom.”
Naturally, thinking of all of this, my neurons sink back to Janis Joplin’s magnificent cover of the Kris Kristofferson song, “Me & Bobby McKee” from 1970. The lines so many of us remember from the song, the one I was reminded of as we celebrated a nation’s beginning that is supposed to be founded on principles of freedom, democracy, and equality, are, “Freedom’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose. Nothin’ ain’t worth nothin’ but it’s free.”
Stay as positive as you can as we endure this era. Try to look forward to what we can build, and don’t be dissuaded or disheartened by those trying to create something other than a land of freedom and equality for all. Or as it’s written in the Declaration of Independence: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
The coffee is half gone. The breeze is fading and the heat is rising. 71 F now, it’ll be in the low 90s before the sun slips out of view. Time to take this show on the road. Here’s the music. Cheers
He’d been thinking about a song earlier, a childhood favorite, reflecting, it’d been a log time since he’d heard it. Then he entered the car and headed to the coffee shop to write. Presto, the song came on the radio. Such delight. Such serendipity.
For the record, the song is “Lola”, straight out of 1970, when he was fourteen, by the Kinks. Just remembering that, he was right there, on the rear patio of the house on Laurie Drive in Penn Hills, enjoying summer sunshine with his friends and sisters.
The season dial switched back to spring from sprummer today. No blue sky. Only gray clouds lining the top of our existence box. Ashlandia is quiet, pensive, waiting for sumpin’ to break.
It’s May 21, Sunday, 2023. 64F out there. Feels like we’re sprinting for June. Like May all the sudden needs to get to a bathroom for some urgent business.
Today’s high will be a mere 75F. It’s a mere month until summer solstice lands in Earth’s northern hemi.
My stomach isn’t pleased this morning. It’s been elected to speak for the rest of the body, who are trying to organize and push forward an initiative to laze around today. Coffee has been ordered for all of them but the results from the first sips aren’t reassuring. Brain is still waking up and has no clue what’s going on. Eyes keep muttering, “Just another minute” and work on closing.
Witnessed a fierce mouse attack this AM. The mouse was being attacked. Toy critter. Papi, bored, was leading me through the house. I found one of his favorite mice toys in the designated cat toy drawer. Fifteen toy mice in there in different stages of destruction. His favorite is gray, filled with catnip, with a blue tail. I tossed it with perfect timing, bouncing it off a sofa cushion into his path. Well, it was on. Poor toy mouse kept trying to escape Papi’s murder mittens, diving under the coffee table (which rarely sees any coffee and is never given any) only to be dragged back out and thrown into the air. This lasted almost an entire minute before the exhausted floof stilled, paw on mouse, declaring, “Truce.”
Going to a by-invitation-only pre-concert this afternoon to meet the orchestra and get informed about how the magic of a concert is accomplished. We’re mystified about why we were selected but the wife was thrilled. I reminded her to be sure to take some heavy cash and the checkbook.
Today’s theme music is a pop/rock/soul ditty called “Ball of Confusion (That’s What the World Is Today)”. Put out by the Temptations in 1970, the lyrics against a firm, driving beat, still merits hearing.
Spring showers slap Ashlandia. Sunshine forfeits the day to rain and clouds. Though it’s mid-morning, lights are turned on. A train’s horn haunts the quiet wet streets as a train glides through town on its metal path. It’s Tuesday, May 2, 2023. 47 degrees F now, the mid fifties is possible, the weather wranglers tell me.
Rain doesn’t please the cats. Tucker wanders, singing for sunshine to return. Papi showers me, questioning noises, alerting when he sees another cat walking toward him. “Hark! Who goes there?” Papi challenges. Tucker issues a lazy glance. Papi mutters, “Oh, it’s you,” and scurries off.
Today’s theme music comes from Jill Dennison’s post about a Chicago song called “You’re the Inspiration”. Hearing it reminded Der Neurons of another Chicago song. Maybe because it’s May. My wife and I went to the same high school. She was a year behind me. In May of her senior year, 1975, I was in the military and we were engaged. She was our school’s May Queen that year. Stationed just a few hundred miles from her, I came ‘back home’ for the event. One of the first slow dances we shared together was to a song called “Colour My World” by Chicago from 1970. Hearing it, I can smell and feel her. Then she asks, “What are you doing? Are you sniffing me?”
“Yes, I was sniffing you,” I reply with a sarcastic snort. “You’re so full of yourself. Why would I be sniffing you?”
“Why are you sniffing me?” she answers. “Do I need a bath?”
We’re still together despite lots of turbulence. I think we’re just too damn obstinate to walk away, although we’ve tried twice.
Coffee’s rich smell is calling from the other run. Stay pos and own the day. I’m just renting it, myself. Here’s the music. “Make Me Smile” is included in the video. Cheers
Windy is the weather word for today. Windy, as in lots of wind, and it’s gonna get intense. Not hurricane, cyclone, tornado, or typhoon level, no. But hold onto your hats. Or tie them on tight.
Today is Thursday, 3/9/2023. Temperature is 42. We lack snow, fog, and rain at the moment. We offer blue sky, white clouds, and sunshine on this Ashlandia morning. The sun was coming up at 6:33 AM, when Papi did his seal bark to demand exit number three. The window beating to come back in was at 7:05. Ashlandia’s sunset comes at 6:10. We’ll be up to 42 F by then.
Papi is back out now, sitting on the porch, glaring at the wind, very dismayed with the weather. He’ll be wanting back in soon, and then will rest so that he’s fresh for his nightly needs. He is off, victimized by the book club visitors last night. Papi is not one to socialize with people or animals. He’s a loner. When they arrived, he retreated to the master BR and sulked on the bed, listening for one of them attempting to sneak up on him. He’s knockin’ to get back in now. Excuse me.
Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to be gone so long. Had to pay the floof tax and tell him how smart and handsome he is until he said, “Enough,” and dashed off. Those of you with floofs will understand.
Papi is a neat and clean cat, though. Not a fur out of place. Any out of place furs are immediately shed. It’s quite a system.
I dreamed I was trying to remember who sang “Baby Blue”, a song which came out in 1971. As part of my dream effort, I kept watching a black and white static-filled TV screen while older me shouted at younger me, “Bad Finger. It’s Bad Finger.” Younger me would not listen, but kept muttering, “Bad Company?” Arrgh.
It’s a walking song in the morning mental music stream today. Out yesterday, walking today. Winting is back and the sun and cold wind medley was enhanced by things trying to figure out if they should bloom now. All very pleasant, however. Reminded me of youthful moments. The Neurons tossed a Grand Funk song, “I’m Your Captain (Closer to Home)” from 1970 into the mix. It’s a song I often recalled when walking or driving and getting close to home. I often traveled in my youth, and then again in the military, and then again in marketing.
That’s enough of that, I’m sure. Stay pos. Treat Thursday like a golden opportunity and do your thang. Peace out.
Winter wonderland has returned to Ashlandia. Temp flutters around 29 F. Fog, ice, and frost lick the environment white. Sun participation was brought in at 7:11 AM. Not that you can swear it. Visibility is sliced to a hundred feet. The sun is much further out, not even a pale orb behind the scenes at the moment.
It’s Feb 12, 2023. Sunday. Today’s high will be sixty-two, the weather gossips whisper. What? 62 F out of this? Don’t make me laugh. It’ll probably happen. Weather, you know. Changeable. Ashlandia’s sunset is due at 5:40 PM. Winter storm warning out for the week’s start. Buckle on cold weather gear as temperatures shift into the freezing zone and clouds deliver rain and snow.
With winter in mind, The Neurons cranked up, Winter – Edgar — “Frankenstein” — and then Johnny and Edgar with “Tobacco Road”. But the little ones finally settled on “Rock and Roll, Hoochie Koo” out of the seventies of last century. The question always worrying my gray functions is, what exactly is a Hoochie Koo? Miriam-Webster’s online dictionary isn’t helpful on the matter. I’ve always associated Hoochie Koochie with belly dancing because that’s what an aunt told me when I was young. But “Koochie koochie, koo,” was used by Mom to tickle and play with us when we were toddlers. My brain is confused.
Anyway, here is the music. Johnny and his band bring it. Hope you have an entertaining Sunday. Coffee is at hand. We have launch. Hoochie koochie.
Michael Seidel, writer 