Another day has come our way, this one called Thursday, the ninth month of May.
Lots of clouds cover the Churchill Valley in PA where I’m located. Temperature has peaked at 64 F. Rain was forecasted but hasn’t shown up. Sitting on the covered back porch, listening to birds making their declarations, is a mellow, soul-clearing practice. Add a cup of hot black coffee and I feel synchronized with my existence.
I went to a concert last night. This was put on at a local high school and featured my nephew, Joey, son of my youngest little sister. He plays the trumpet. It was a jazz ensemble, and an entertaining evening. That was his last high school performance, as he graduates this month, so I was pleased to attend.
Coming out of the high school after the concert just after 8 PM, I fell in love with the softly turning indigo sky. Green grass surrounds the school. Freshly cut, the smell filled the air and carried me back. The Neurons responded by plugging a 1975 song into the morning mental music stream (Trademark suspended). “Green Grass and High Tides” by the Outlaws began last night and played a little longer this morning after I rolled out of bed. It’s a rousing southern country rock song.
Be safe and positive, remain strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee has been sipped on for a few hours. Not very good stuff, but beggars, you know. Here’s the music video. Cheers
Wednesday, April 17, 2024, began with blue skies and sunshine. Clouds have sailed in, blocking sunshine’s march. Shame, as it was a 34 F morning and the sunshine would be a nice warmer. My weather system says it’s 44 F out there. Others claim it’s now 46, 47, 49. All depends on location and how much sun they’re receiving, and air currents. 64 F or so will be our high.
Was going to write about politics news as a WTF America, Senate edition moment took place. News of a US Senator inciting American citizens to attack and torture or kill other Americans who are exercising their First Amendment right raises my ire. Way to go, Senator Cotton! Such a pillar of Christianity and Servant of the People! What an educated adult. And he proudly noted that’s exactly what the freedom-loving patriots of his his great state of Arkansas would do.
Yes, that was a heavy load of snark.
Cotton is a Republican, of course. Violence against other Americans and the Constitution is the MAGA GOP’s modus.
I would write about it, but Frank Vyan Walton at Daily Kos did it well, amplifying what Morning Joe said about Cotton’s remarks:
“This is extraordinarily counterproductive to any cause you’re pushing, but here we have a guy, Tom Cotton, that went to Harvard, undergrad and law school, served in the military, who is talking about throwing people off the Golden Gate Bridge, ripping their skin off. We had a United States senator go on a network, national network, suggesting that Americans rip skin off of people’s hands because they’re aggravated and take matters into their own hands.”
Sigh. Really, WTF, America?
Today’s music is floof-inspired. “Walk This Way” is one of Aerosmith’s best known songs. Released in 1975, when I was 19, The Neurons put it into my morning mental music stream (Trademark refreshed) this AM when I told Tucker, “Come on, if you’re hungry. Walk this way.” Which Tucker did.
Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue. Coffee is settling into the system. Let’s click this way and listen to the music. Cheers
Our intrepid band of three hundred million plus call Earthlings or Terrans come at last to the day noted as Tuesday, April 9, 2024. Once a date studied by prophets and feared by rulers, the reasons for that have been lost. Only one man knows the truth, but he’s been frozen and forgotten. And so we, the survivors, skip through this day not knowing its significance.
It’s sunny in Ashlandia. The sky’s blueness is marred by some lazy stray clouds hanging above the valley’s high edges, as though spying for an enemy ruler. Current temperature is in the upper 50s F. We’re shimmying toward the upper 60s. This is a fine example of how spring should appear in the middle of the season in Aslandia.
My wife and I have been involved in a jigsaw puzzle. She picked it up at the library of things last Friday. We began working on it that day.
It’s a Ravensburger, which is my favorite. Ravensburger puzzles have solid pieces which fit together well, and vibrant colors. This one is a tableau of a beach house living room looking out over the sea. A small dog rests on his bed in the foreground, looking back at you. His orange toy is on the bed beside him.
A coffee table dominates the center. It sits on a striped rug on a hardwood floor. Sharing its surface top is a tray of food and wine, a long scarf colorful with sea creatures and flowing aquas, purples, oranges, and blues, a gold-rimmed bowl of shells and starfish, and a plate of food. Sea foam green easy chairs and sofa are arranged on either side of the table. Past the table are open sliding doors leading to a deck.
Beyond the deck is the sand and churning waves. Further out are sailing vessels and a coastguard ship. Osprey and gulls wheel through light clouds and blue skies.
I’d love to live in that place. Wish I was there now, listening to the ocean and reading a book. Small stacks of books are on the sofa and the coffee table’s lower shelf.
The puzzle is coming together fast. We are now about 85% finished. Sky and sea remain, along with the birds.
It wasn’t that way yesterday morning. Back then, we had one edge piece missing. The coffee table was almost complete, and the dog and several other areas were completed. I’d say it was thirty percent done.
I was focused on that missing edge piece. My obsessiveness had kicked in. I hadn’t plan to work on that puzzle at the point in the day. It was mid-morning and I had things to do. But I sure wanted to find that missing piece.
Going through the pieces, I began asking deities and fates for help. None came but The Neurons, taking up my issue, began an ABBA song: SOS from 1975 began playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark sinking).
I found an American Bandstand episode with Dick Clark and ABBA on the net. Seeing Bandstand shook up memories like they were in a snow globe. Many teenagers and pre-teens hustled into a television’s presence to see the show in the 1960s. I never became deeply into it, but my older sister surely was. ABBA wasn’t a group I followed. I didn’t aspire to their style. But I respected their talents and their drive to succeed. There they were, doing what they’d set out to do. Congrats to them. I knew about them because AM radio broadcast their music. Then there were the friends who were so into them, too…
By the way, I didn’t find the missing piece and left for the coffee shop. My wife returned from her exercise class and answered the call, finding the missing piece. She’s my hero.
Stay positive, persevere, and Vote Blue this November. Coffee is being actively consumed in parallel to my typing. Hope you have the kind of day you wanted when you awoke this morning. Here’s the music.
Hello my fellow beings. Following the general trends of reality of which we are aware, we’ve shifted to the next elements in the sequence we’ve been following for centuries. If you’re using a solar calendar, of course. And Gregorian. If so, today is Tuesday, April 2, 2024.
Each morning when I rise, I put it out to the universe, can you slow down time for me? I’m not asking for much, just enough to finish some things on my lists while still being able to chill a little. Instead, I’m often looking at the time and wonder if someone’s pranking me by messing with the clocks and calendars. Maybe I’m being hypnotized for an hour and then awakened and forced to rush. I suspect the cats. They always appear to be sharing a secret that amuses them.
It’s warming up here today. Already at 60 F, we’re expecting the sun and air to take us to 78 F before the day is shuttered. Don’t get overly excited. As we’ve learned, it’s gonna change again. Tomorrow — Wednesday — is promising to be rainy, with a high of 55 F.
These sort of weather patterns always present me with a conundrum. The rain is good for us but I like the sunshine. I suppose, if I’m not going to be selfish, I should cheer the rain and accept it.
My floof boys are appreciating the sunshine, though. They’re airing their fur and soaking up rays, and looking sweet and charming, out there in the green grass and sun.
With Easter, I was thinking about family. Back when I was growing up (I’m now growing down, I think, becoming a little shorter each year), Mom made Easter a big deal. We dyed eggs. They were hidden. We hunted them. She presented us with elaborate baskets. Managing to prepare them in secret, they arrived on Easter morning like magic.
Those baskets were loaded. Sugar and chocolate dominated. She always ensured we each had a huge solid milk chocolate rabbit. We also had a large, lavishly decorated coconut eggs. Marshmallow rabbits and chicks, chocolates shaped like bunnies or eggs wrapped in colorful foil, and jellybeans and colorful marshmallow eggs set in plastic green grass lining the basket’s bottom finished the scene.
Then there were our clothes. My sisters bought new pastel dresses. I was presented with a new little three-piece suit and shoes, and taken for a haircut, so I was freshly groomed. I wore a crew cut then, held in place with Brylcreem. Didn’t need to shave in those days, so that saved time and effort. Dressed like that, we crowded into the packed local Protestant church to hear about Jesus and the Resurrection and sing hymns that I didn’t know.
Next, off to the Grands for a big family Easter dinner. Grandpa was in charge of making a huge Easter ham. That sucker tasted awesome.
Quite a turnout, it was. Dad wasn’t usually there. He and Mom were divorced and he was serving overseas in the military. But his family took Mom and her brood in. Beside us four and the two grandparents were four siblings and their significant others and children, anyway from twenty to twenty-five people.
Later that night, as children gradually retired on our overdoses of food, sugar, and socializing, the adults gathered to drink, smoke, and gamble with cards. Ah, Easter!
I don’t think it was the religion that made it such an awesome day. It was Mom and family, and the effort they put into it. Also, I was a child and had no responsibilities.
My sisters and Mom informed me of their Easter events via social media this year. It’s the new norm. It’s a smaller gathering. One little sister, Grandma Gina, hosted. Her daughters and her grandchildren and their spouses came over, along with another sister and her sons, and Mom and her beau. Not quite the extravaganza it used to be. I don’t think they even bought new clothes. They had plenty of food, though, especially desserts.
With these thoughts of family in my head, The Neurons delivered “Fly, Robin, Fly” into the morning mental music stream (Trademark imploding). Back when I was visiting for Easter one year, that song played on the car radio as I drove her somewhere in my Camaro. I was nineteen and in the military. She was nine, and so cute, with her straight bangs and shoulder-length shiny brown hair. As the song played, she turned to me and said, “This is my favorite song.”
Surprised me. The 1975 Silver Convention song was a disco classic, all about rhythm and dancing. Three words are repeated a few times during the song, and then there’s, “Up up to the sky.” I wasn’t into disco so much. But with my sister’s proclamation about the song, I heard it in a different way.
Stay positive and remain strong. Election day is growing closer. Lean forward and Vote Blue. I’m on my second cup of coffee now, so the day is going well for me. After writing, there’s shopping, and yardwork. Hope your day goes well. Here’s the music. It’s a fun video and will stir disco memories, if you were there. If you weren’t there, you can watch and learn.
It’s the next to last day of March. Day before Easter. Saturday, March 30, 2024.
We’ve got sunshine snaking around gray masses of condensed water vapor drifting across the blue-wave sky. Temperature is 50 F and some rain is anticipated, with a high of 56 F in the forecast. March winds are blowing.
There is so much news to digest and think about. Writing about multiple events is possible but I won’t, today, sparing you all. As writer Amanda Marcotte wrote in a Salon article, many ideas and stories surrounding Trump and the MAGA GOP can be labeled, “Shocking, not surprising.”
I’d rather stay away from that and focus on my fiction writing. Part of that is because I’m in an enjoyable phase, rev 6 of one of the works in progress. A second part is that I’m weary of the often-exasperating news, like the MAGA GOP kneejerk response to the demolished Maryland bridge. Then there’s a third factor, that due to Sunday brunch with friends tomorrow, I’ll probably not be writing tomorrow. So I’m trying to get ahead.
I will say — because I have little impulse control, I suppose — that the video of the Dari cargo ship striking the Francis Scott Key bridge and the bridge’s collapse is stunning.
Music for today comes from 1975. I can’t parse why The Neurons plugged it into the morning mental music stream (Trademark sinking). That’s the way of The Neurons. (Is that a novel title? The Way of the Neurons.)
My Neurons like hijacking my brain (which might be called brainjacking, I guess), and the body follows. Like, I’ll go into the kitchen to get a glass of water and suddenly I’m eating cookies, no explanations given. It’s like my Neurons have me hypnotized.
Anyway, today’s theme music is brought to us by the Ozark Mountain Daredevils. “Jackie Blue” was soft country rock song released in 1975, a year after I graduated high school. I was in the U.S. Air Force then and heard it regularly on my car’s AM radio. 1975 was the year of my first duty assignment, Wright-Patterson Air Force Base in Ohio, and the year I was married. That was my first wedding, and remains my only wedding, and the marriage still endures. “Jackie Blue” and being at WPAFB and getting married seems fused in my head. So when I heard the song today in the MMMS, I remembered young me as I took on adulting.
Stay positive, be stalwart, and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee has already been swallowed in significant quantities, so let’s listen to the music. Cheers
Another foggy and sunny Oregon aunter day in Ashlandia, where the people are liberal. Well, mostly. It’s complicated. Of course. Everything is complicated in the information age in the modern United States.
It’s Saturday, December 9, 2023. We’re rolling through the upper thirties to low forties, depending upon which part of town you’re in, and whether it’s sunny there. My home’s overnight low was 28 F. The cats stayed in. Didn’t even complain about it. Just got themselves cosy and slept the night away, except for litter box breaks and kibble bowl visits. Reminds me, I need to clean the litter box and refill the kibble bowls.
Our high today will crest the mid 50s F.
Can’t stomach the news today. I start reading about Ken Paxton, AG of Texas and his efforts to stop a woman’s abortion and just want to puke. So much is wrapped up and on full display about Republican ‘values’. Doctors are behind the medically recommended abortion; Republicans are pushing their ‘religious beliefs’ to stop it, this in a country which is purported to advance freedom from religion. This s the death panel that they used to threaten would happen under ACA, the ones which never did happen. It’s typical of Republicans to project this way.
Remember, please, this is the party of small government. Limited government. Government that shouldn’t be in people’s bedroom. Right. Sure. That’s all more GOP smoke. Nothing they do is really about small government; it’s about control and power.
Like the Zieglers of Florida. They project in the same way. She, Bridget, is busy with Moms for Liberty, banning books, worrying about what these books she wants banned will do to children’s morality. In parallel to this bullshit, this morally upright Republican christian was having an affair with a woman. Actually part of a three-way with the woman and her husband. Her business, yes, except her business is directly contradictory to her political stands, causes, and ‘principles’. By the way, show me where in the bible they extol it says threeways are okay. Christ on a penny, this is who christians look up to for leadership?
All this exploded onto news pages because her husband, Christian Ziegler, is accused of raping the woman in the three-way. He is of course, the GOP party leader. Makes perfect sense. While innocent until proven guilty of the rape, this paragon of Republican virtue does admit to the threesome. There is video but that means little to the GOP; all that video of Jan 6, and Republicans claim those folks threatening their elected officials, breaking into our capitol building, smearing feces on the walls, threatening the police, and stealing things are just tourists. Or they’re really antifa or BLM. Anyone except Republicans.
See why I want to puke after perusing the news?
For the theme music, The Neurons have launched “War” with “Low Rider” from 1975 into the morning mental music stream (Trademark torpedoed). I honestly searched for why they plugged in this funk tune. I enjoy the song and haven’t heard it in a while. But why, after eating oatmeal with nuts and cranberries, drinking some coffee, feeding the cats, and reading the news, is that song going on? I can’t see a direct correlation.
Could have something to do with a general mood of mine, an overstretching sense of optimism that runs contrary to so much evidence. The mood, when I pause to feel through it, takes me back to when I was young and just starting out, and that is where this song was released. Maybe my mind is tuning into the radio of my youth. I can see myself in my old little ’68 Camaro, driving home from work in the Command Post in Fairborn, Ohio, back home to my girlfriend, who become my wife later that year. Nice scene to remember.
Be strong and positive, and lean waaayyy forward, right? I’ve had some coffee and I’m eager to tackle some matters that need tackling. Here’s the video. Cheers
Monday, October 30, 2023, arrived as fresh as cherries picked off the tree and as cold as an icebox. Hovering at 42 F, sunshine eventually warmed air and soil until it’s now 67 F in Ashlandia, where arts are prevalent and the Oregon Shakespeare Festival is above average.
Clear and cloudless nights have given us terrific moonlight, like an enormous spotlight was casting blue-white light across the land. Papi likes the moonlight but dislikes the cold and wind, and usually returns post haste after a quick trot around the yard. Tucker felt the air and was willing to sleep out there but I forced him in, enduring his grumblings and protests until he finally surrendered to his fate and went to sleep on my desk.
I like how Tucker’s language has evolved over the years. When he first joined us as a lost, unclaimed stray, he rarely made a noise unless he was fighting with another cat. Then he developed a plaintive meow he’d infrequently employ to request food, attention, or door assistance. When Boo, his number one enemy, passed away, Tucker became very loud and vocal for a few months. Since then, he’s developed a low murmuring conversation style, like he’s speaking sentences but which are not meows. It’s hilarious to me to ask, “Are you hungry,” and listen to him respond with burbling, “Brrpty mrrpka yrpp kerp mmmm,” or the like.
Tucker’s behavior inspired The Neurons when it came to today’s theme music. The big black and white fur booger likes for me to pick him up, give him some sugar, and walk around with him a bit before feeding him. He’ll sit down and look up at me all big-eyed and earnestly say, “Errp nerrp?” I usually repeat it back to him, and he’ll reply, “Mrrpy.” I’ve decided ‘errp nerrp’ means, ‘carry me’ or ‘pick me up’, and ‘mrrpy’ means ‘yes’.
Spying on me as The Neurons so often do, they punked me by playing the Doobie Brothers and their 1975 cover of a Motown song, “Take Me in Your Arms”, in the morning mental music stream (Trademark fading).
Remain pos, stay strong, and keep marching forward, even if you must use tiny steps. With a little coffee, I’ll try doing the same.
Seems like Indian Summer is on its way here in Ashlandia, where the peaches were sweet and juices this year, and the cherries were no-shows. 64 F now, 82 is today’s high, but get ready; we’re heading into the upper nineties this week.
It’s Sunday, September 10, 2023
Technically, if one can say such a thing for an expression like Indian Summer, it can’t be Indian Summer now, as it’s September, and it’s still summer. According to the sages, Indian Summer happens in October or November, and at least after autumn commences. But they’re not sure about the phrase’s origins, and can only make educated guesses about it. Then, they applied those rules about when it is and isn’t.
Horrific news out of Morocco as the death count after the quake rose and rose. At least 2,000, were killed by the ‘strongest quake in 100 years’, and more were injured and displaced. In other news, someone is killing trees in a wealthy enclave around Sidney, Australia. Locals theorize that someone is doing it to improve their view of the water. Sadly, as one person mentions, property values are all about things like views. It seems totally possibly in this age, doesn’t it? And as another interviewee said, they’ll probably get away with it. Another grrr moment in life.
Playing with Whichbook.net, a tool designed to help you find your next read. I’ve never had a problem finding my next book to read. So many books at there waiting to be read, my problem is that I need to make more time to read them. But that then takes away time from other things. Terrible, ugly circle of time and things to do. But I checked out the tool because I was curious. Twenty-four attributes you can look for in a novel are listed. Things like, “Short, Long”, “Happy, Sad”, “Optimistic, Bleak”. You can select four. A slider feature lets you put greater emphasis on one side of the scale over the other. I suppose it can be useful if you’re really in a muddle about to read or at a lost because you’ve tired of a genre and you’re trying to find something different. It’s interesting that it doesn’t address genre or era.
Once again, The Neurons pried a song out of the vault and tossed it into the morning mental music stream (Trademark fishy) without giving any clues about their logic. In this case, the song began while doing various tasks at home under the general umbrella of housekeeping. Then the song started: “When I think of those East End lights, muggy nights, pink curtains drawn in the room downstairs.” Yes, it’s the 1975 Elton John song, “Someone Saved My Life Tonight”. Although other songs came and went for a while as I cleaned, this song arose in the MMMS this morning. It could just be that The Neurons started roaming through my mind as I worked, bored with what I was doing, and brought up this and those other old songs to alleviate the tedium. But why’d they put it back in the MMMS? Another question which I can’t answer.
Time to commence things, like drinking coffee. Stay pos, be cool, be strong. Here’s the music. Cheers
Wednesday in Ashlandia, where the air is clear today, and the people are happy, today. 58 F now, the weather system is expected to deliver a high of 82 this afternoon before the night shift comes on.
Ukraine’s stand against Russia’s land grab continues, which is good for the number of deaths but not anything else. War, what is it good for, you know. This one isn’t good for anything. I’m impressed by Ukraine’s stand and hope that Russia — sorry, Putin — will come to his senses and declare a cease fire. Not holding my breath, though.
I applaud Gov. Kemp’s stand against the false election lie peddlers, aka Trumpists and MAGAts. Nice to hear some principles of law are respected by a few Republicans, at least on this matter. I’m weary of the others and their constant cry about stolen elections. No evidence, turned down in multiple courts, multiple levels, multiple states. Yet their claims keep going. The trail against Trump and gang will be intriguing.
Was some good news when DNA evidence cleared a man of wrongful conviction after five decades. Imagine the weight of being accused and convicted while you know you’re innocence, and all that happens to you in the penal system after such a conviction. Imagine that weight being finally lifted when you’re 72 years old.
Reading about Gary Wright’s death from cancer at a respectable age of 80 — not bad for a rocker — has The Neurons playing “Dream Weaver” (1975) for me in my morning mental music stream (Trademark giftwrapped). It helps that I had several dreams of interest to me. With Buffett Harwell, and Wright’s death, existence lived up to the ‘always in threes’ billing of celebrities dying.
Stay pos and strong, and raise your head and look forward to what you can do. I’ll do the same after I have some strong black coffee. Here’s the music. Cheers
Quiet day here yesterday, today. Light traffic. Today brings more human mechanical noises through the air. A chipper is at work somewhere, and the trash has been picked up at the apartment complex down the street. It’s Thursday, July 13, 2023.
65 F outside, we expect our upper temp to pick at the low 90s in Ashlandia today, where the grass is browning like biscuits in the oven, and the children are going hiking. VP Kamela Harris, the first woman of color to be VPOTUS, made more history by matching the number of most tie-breaking votes made, 31. I believe she might set a new record before her term is done. The historic vote advanced Kalpana Kotagal’s nomination to the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. VP Harris shares the record with John C. Calhoun, so the record has been set for a while. It took VP Calhoun eight years to set it back in the early 1800s.
Meanwhile, over on the Fox News website, read all about the man found with skulls, a missing man’s body found in Yosemite, a cat killer, and shark encounters.
The Neurons pre-loaded a Bad Company, “Shooting Star”, from 1975, into the morning mental music stream (trademark contemplated). Why, Les Neurons, why this song on this day? Why not, they answer. Because it’s there, they also replied. And, because we wanted to. Because we could. Little blighters.
Here’s the music. Stay pos, informed, and aware. Ingesting some fresh coffee to help me kickstart my brain. Oh — here comes kickstart my heart. Oh, well.
Michael Seidel, writer 