Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
My sisters and I, five years ago (April of 2020), on a river cruise. I’m the one with the face fur. The sisters begin with the oldest in the right corner and sweep counterclockwise to the youngest in the lower left hand corner. We had a good time that night. I’m second oldest of the tribe.
Mood: Twosdayized
28 degrees, Twosday come into the valley with sunshine, blue skies, and patchy fog. The day hovers in the liminal folds between autumn and winter, that murky zone called autner. Feels like it could get colder. Feels like clouds could march in and dump snow. But the sunshine claims it might get warmer. In fact, some forecasters insist, as they have on previous days, that today’s high will crack the fifties and stalk the upper edges toward sixty. But the valley’s stagnant air messes with the forecasting process. Yesterday’s high attained 45 F when 56 F was supposed to be the ceiling. So, I’m not planning to see 56 F today.
This stagnant air is weird. A still, windless phenomena, the chill it carries creeps through everything. You dress for much colder air and the house heating works hard because that creeping chill.
Going through the valley yesterday to shop, I saw that a thin line of brown pollution rimmed the more populated western region. Get used to that, I thought. Trump and his clown cabinet will cut regulations. “Business,” they’ll shout, and the sheeple shout, “Yes. Business first.” Business means prosperity, right? Wage increases. Profits. Bull market.
Most of the sheeple fail to understand that the government and economy worked better under Democratic control. Their limited memories don’t pull up the dark, sooty airs the United States experienced in the 1960s and 1970s before the EPA and their pesky regs came out and ordered, “Thou shall not pollute.” Nor do they comprehend the impact on health that it brings, and the reciprical effect on productivity and costs due to worker illness and absences. They don’t think that fucking deep. Or course, it’s hard to do so with Republicans bleating otherwise in a 24/7 cacophony. And it’s hard to remember and think whn your education is being hamstrung with teachings about how Jesus saved the world and climate change is a hoax, and look! Illegals! Trans! Woke! They also believe that wealthy people won’t hoard their wealth but will spread it around like fertilizer and turn everything cash green for everyone.
Yes, they are fucking fools.
Sigh. On to other matters.
We shopped at Costco. It’s been a go-to for us since the early 1990s. Our local Costco was moderately busy on a Monday afternoon. Mostly older shoppers. Ahem. Like us. As we entered and began our prowl, my wife shouted at the milling shoppers, “What about inflation?” She’s still riled up about that. I told her, “Babe, they’ve heard whispers that it’s gonna get worse. This is Doomsday shopping. They’re out here trying to get deals and soothe their troubled minds with food and toys to help them when reality crashes in.”
Being the second day of the workweek, it’s natural that this is called Twosday. Many don’t realize that the first spelling for ‘two’ or 2 was tue. Somehow, as the language and alphabet swelled into its current shape, tue became two. But the day of the week was already cemented in influential calendar makers, so Tuesdays remained.*
* Yes, that was all b.s.
Today’s music came out in 2020, while lockdown was prevalent. Being retired, I don’t work, so the song doesn’t really address me and my grips. But The Neurons called it up because I’ve been muttering to myself, “I need to get back to the coffee shop and get back to work on my writing.” Ding ding ding. The Neurons had a piece of “Work” by Pop Evil in the morning mental music stream (Trademark being worked): “All I do is work!”
Alright, coffee and I have come to an agreement. I will make it and pour it into my watering hole, and it will kick my energy up. Look up, open your eyes, and breathe deep. Time for another Twosday to be vanquished. Here’s the music. Cheers
Trump said that if Christians come out and vote for him, they won’t need to vote again in the future. That stirred concerns for many, including me.
But Lindsey Graham (Idiot – R) laughed it off. “Ho, ho, that Trump, such a funny dictator — I mean, such a humorous dictator — no! That’s not what I’m trying to say. He’s a funny politician.”
No, that’s not what Lindsy said. I made it up, much like Trump makes up so much! Ha, ha, it’s so much fun. Note: CNN likes to label Trump’s lies as ‘false claims’. Any parent would tell him, stop lying.
What Graham said, seriously, “We will have democracy, god willing, for a very long time in this country, but what President Trump is trying to tell people — ‘I did it once, I can do it again. These problems can be solved, but you got to go in a different direction.’”
So number one, dickhead. Trump is a former president. He’s either Mister Trump now or former President Trump. He is not President now. Get it through your casaba, Graham.
Number two, what did he — Trump — fucking do for the nation when he was POTUS that they’re all so gleeful about? Are they really that happy about having a convict and rapist as their leader, an amoral individual and grifter whose biggest gift is conning others into giving him money over and over again?
Trump’s record speaks for itself as evidence of what not to do for the nation to be a prosperous, responsible, and free country.
And if you don’t believe me, just look at what Trump and the GOP has planned in Project 2025.
Mood: Cofflective
Here we go, Tuesday, May 28, 2024. Tornados have been messing with large swaths of the U.S. resulting in death and destruction. I’m thankful it’s milder here in the Churchill Valley, although it’s worrisome that lightning apparently struck a house and put it on fire.
Unevenly shaped, rough clouds muddle this morning’s pale blue sky. Sunshine skates in and out. It’s a cool but pleasant 60 F out. Today’s high will flex around 70 F. Thunderstorms and rain are in our close future.
Mom is doing well. Well is a relative term. She’s always expressing weariness and pain; those are regular life features for her. But she buzzed around the house, getting downstairs to do her laundry as only she can do it. She ate well. And she watched television, cursing Trump, wondering again who and why anyone would vote for “that thug”. ‘Idiot’ is sometimes subbed for ‘thug’. I need to remind her to do her property tax senior rebate.
After all the local holidays and birthday parties, I’m afraid that we’re running out of desserts. We only have remnants of angel food cake, a chocolate chip cake, coconut cream pie, an almost whole large apple pie, half of a tuxedo cake with chocolate mousse, and pecan sticky buns. It’s looking grim.
Tonight I visit with my sister’s family again. Tomorrow night is my nephew’s graduation. Thursday, I wing my way out of the area on an Alaska Air flight. Fingers crossed that all goes well with the flight and weather. I’m already working out the packing logistics to account for items added while here.
I ended up with “Stick Season” by Noah Kahan (2020) in the morning mental music stream (Trademark sharp). This almost stream of consciousness song about who the singer is after the changes wrapped up with a relationship’s end just mesmerizes me. It felt like a natural as I thought of my relatives’ lives, as well as my own, and where I’m at, and where they’re at. In our conversations about these things, struggles, failures, success, and frustrations were discussed, sometimes in short, sharp anecdotes and confidential revelations, but often through a long lens of reflection.
Let’s get on the move. Stay positive, be strong, and go forward. Also Vote Blue this year, okay? It’ll help us be strong and move forward.
Coffee is being gulped down and my pulse has resumed. Here’s the music. Have a strong day. Cheers
Hello, you lucky people. Time to embrace another Wednesday. It’s also an opportunity to celebrate Jun 14, 2023. If it’s your birthday, have a happy one. Same toast to you if it’s your anniversary.
This is Flag Day in the U.S., a celebration of the congressional resolution in 1777 about the new nation’s flag design.
Although we’re a week away from summer’s start in Ashlandia, we’re doing a chilly one this morning, 52 F. Sky is a sea of softly rolling gray-tinged white with sporadic islands and atolls of darker grays. No blue. A white lagoon represents our sun. High of 76 F is in the deck. Same is planned for tomorrow, with cold front delivering us overnight lows in the mid to upper 40s. Get a blanket out.
You can guess that the house floofs are saying nope to this weather. Not expecting the cooler air, they were out with their usual bravado. Now they’re sitting in the other room, telling me, “We thought we’d visit you today. Help celebrate flag day. Seems like a silly celebration. When will we celebrate treat day? How ’bout lap day? That’s worth celebrating. We’re not even sure what a flag is.”
I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s Star Wars Day somewhere as on this date in 1977, the first Star Wars movie was shown in the U.S. My wife and I, then stationed at Randolph AFB, just outside of San Antonio, TX, went with my cousin and his friends to see the movie. Pretty entertaining.
I have Eric Clapton’s cover of the Bob Marley song, “I Shot the Sheriff”, in the morning mental music stream. I don’t know why The Neurons tossed it into the morning mental music stream. I think sometimes they do things just to see what happens, like mixing and coffee. Both are good. Wouldn’t they be better together?
Stay pos and fresh as a winter day. Don’t know where I was going with that. Maybe coffee will help me find answers. Won’t hurt to try. Here’s the music. Cheers
It’s 3.14.23. Let’s celebrate with a little pie. My favorite is blueberry. How ’bout you? Reminds me of the wonderful blueberry tarts I used to buy at The American Bakery on Okinawa.
This is Tuesday. Our whiff of spring the last few days was wonderful but today demonstrates they were interludes. Yesterday only reached the mid-fifties, ten degrees short of forecasted high. Rain started during the night, intensifying this morning. With thermometers reading in the low thirties, rain progressed to slush. Heavy flakes finally showed up. Accumulation is beginning. Still, a wet snow, and the temps are expected to snake a little higher by this afternoon. It’s pretty, most exclaim, along with surprise, because it’s been so nice the last several days. It looks like mid-December out there in Ashlandia.
Sunshine on the scene was limited by the situation but was still noted at 7:25 this AM. 7:16 PM will see sunset.
I must confess, I’ve been spoiling one of my cats. He’s an old fellow now. Tucker was one of those who showed up at the door in hungry, desperate circumstances. We took him in, nursed him back to good health, searched for his people. No one ever claimed him. Now he’s my oldest. He loves chicken and luncheon meat. I’d indulged him a few times. Now he’s trained me. I’m buying lunch meat just for him.
I typically buy sandwiches and don’t keep lunch meat in the house. My wife made something with cranberry sauce and suggested I pick up turkey so I can use up the cranberry. I bought the hormone free turkey, along with provolone cheese and dark rye bread. Rye is my second favorite bread.
The sandwiches were great but of course the Tucker toll was paid. I can’t resist. When he sees me with chicken or lunch meat, his demeanor becomes instantly alert, eyes wide and shiny, whiskers spread in hope, ears spearing the sky with their straight up attention. If I start eating without first sharing with him, he steps closer and releases a plaintive wail. I laugh and surrender. Short story made long, I need to pick up more lunch meat.
Today’s music is by Tame Impala. The Neurons suggested this song after they played “That Was Yesterday”, a 1985 song by Foreigner, in the morning mental music stream. While I was thinking about the Foreigner song and contemplating my overnight dreams, The Neurons delivered “Lost in Yesterday” (2020) by Tame Impala. I knew of Tame Impala before this song, but a friend’s daughter introduced me to this particular song. Following her suggestion, I sought the music video later and enjoyed it, as she thought I would. It’s subtle and not subtle. Hope you enjoy it.
Yo, be positive. I have coffee in me, and the positive level is pretty high. Here’s Tame Impala with the music. Cheers
Sunrise’s 0650 arrival showed us, flurries. They’re on the smallish side but they’re earnest. With the thermometer flailing at 33 degrees F, the flurries pile up. But it all melts when they take a pause. Most be demoralizing to work so hard, dropping millions of flakes and yet see no appreciable accumulation.
It’s Monday. Feb. 27, 2023, the NTL day of February, in case you’ve not been told that February has twenty-eight days this year. Children are walking, school buses are running, parents are dropping off students and zipping off for errands, work, exercise classes. My wife went off to the last.
Sunset is due at 5:58 PM. The weather whizzes tell us 40 F is Ashlandia’s high temperature expectation.
The cats are amfloofvalent about the snow. Tucker looks out without comment. Papi demands freedom. Released to the back yard, he zips around through the flurries to the front porch and demands permission to come back in. He knows Oregon weather at this time of year, so he expects it to change, but it’s not happening as fast as he’d like. I suggest he sit down, maybe have a cup of coffee and observe the weather through the window. He replies, “Meeep.” It’s his trademark sound. That was his name. He’s sometimes referenced as the floof formerly known as Meep.
Meep and Tucker did eat in the same room this morning. That’s a remarkable achievement. Maybe flooftente is thawing. They’ve only lived together for six years. It takes time.
Tucker is doing better with his hind section but still can’t jump. Appetite is much improved, though. We took a risk last week. Bought a twenty-five pound bag of kibble from Costco. Tucker is very discriminating about what he’ll eat, like a child eyeing whatever is offered. Papi is more liberal with what he puts in his mouth. He’s like, “Food! Yes!” Chomp chomp. Neither of them like anything with sweet potato in it. The purchased food is chicken and rice.
Well, Tucker leaped into the new food with gusto. Emptied his kibble bowl and then pulled over the bag to paw out more. See? Improved appetite.
In dispiriting news from around the U.S., Republicans keep pushing to pull books from schools and libraries. Fear, you know. What will their blessed offspring learn? God, what will they see? Might see nekkid people. May even discover that everyone poops. In the name of the holy bible, we can’t have that. They much prefer blinders on their little ones.
They’re playing, “Let’s pretend.” Let’s pretend that people don’t identify differently from the genders we think they are. There are only two, you know. That’s what Jesus said, and the disciples agreed with them to a man. Let’s pretend that slavery was a good thing and that racism doesn’t exist. Thus it is that books may not reference sex, racism, slavery, and other things that make certain people ill. See, it’s only certain people pushing these agendas, a terrified vocal minority.
Okay, end snark.
Was pleased with the SAG results last night, as far as Everything Everywhere All at Once winning four honors. I enjoyed the movie and thought it deserving. Didn’t see many of the other movies, so I don’t know if my opinion is relevant.
BTW, just finished a novel, Legends and Lattes by Travis Baltree. Cited as high fantasy, and featuring a Orc swordswoman as the protagonist, it’s almost like a cozy, but it’s an entertaining and clever send-up of coffee houses as well. My wife found it and passed it on to me after she enjoyed it. I recommend it if you’re looking for a light read.
After a raucous dream night, I have “Bang!” playing on the morning mental music stream loud system. AJR released it a few years ago. It’s an interesting ditty, not about Jack and Diane, but about adulting, being responsible, like moving to your own place, filing taxes, and trying to remember a password.
Stay pos. The oaties have been eaten — they were of a sweet variety today, with brown sugar and blackberries. I have coffee at hand. Sips have been consumed. I am a go. Here’s the music. Pretend you know this song.
Cheers
A small patch of blue sky threatens the fifty shades of gray above Ashlandia. Today is Wednesday, Feb 22, 2023. As Bill Withers sang, “Ain’t no sunshine.” There is daylight, coming to us since 6:57 this morning, illuminating the snow frozen across the ground. @ 33 F, the streets and walks are clear. The weather monitors note it feels like 33 F now, but we’ll punch 36 as a high before celestial mechanisms take our sunshine away at 5:52 PM.
For anyone tracking the stats at home, we’re into our final week of Feb, 2023. It’s the first final week of the second month of the year.
It’s warm in the house, thanks to all the connections which evolved through the centuries regarding gas and electricity, heat, walls, foundations, and roofs. Had the fireplace up last night. Thinking about fire prompted The Neurons to slot “Good Times Roll” by Jimmie Allen and Nelly from 2020 into the morning mental music stream. There’s a chorus line from the song about the good fire rolling. The song is an interesting sound, bit of country, bit of rock, a sound like something out of four decades past.
Stay pos. Make your midweek work for you. Give me so joe and I’ll get right on it. Here’s the music for your listening pleasure. Cheers
This is it, the fourth Thursday of November, Thanksgiving in the U.S. President Franklin Roosevelt signed a Congressional proclamation declaring this is what we were going to do as a nation going forward. Before that, Thanksgiving was all over the place, sort of like Elon Musk and Twitter, an agent of chaos and close to unpredictable.
It’s November 24, 2022. Feels like spring is visiting autumn outside. Recognizing sunshine, the cats wanted out immediately. Their eagerness was rewarded by calm air hovering around 56 F on its way to a 65 F high. Gadzooks, what a treat. Sunshine invaded at a little before the 7:12 AM sunrise. Sunshine will hang out until 4:43 PM.
Thanksgiving is a day of deep planning for many families. Traditions are observed, new ones established. Martyrs are born as people go to extremes to satisfy their Thanksgiving commitments. Warnings are a newer Thanksgiving tradition as people point out which foods are vegan, gluten-free, vegetarian, or contains eggs, dairy, or nuts. Mom and my sisters do Thanksgiving up, going over-the-top with their food. There’s turkey with stuffing and all the American food staples associated with that through the years of Thanksgiving, but also pasta dishes to honor the Italian side. Dessert and treats? My god, yes. Apple pie, and pumpkin, along with cookies, pretzels and chips, cheese trays with crackers and bread, relish trays, and, yes, cake and cheesecake. Leftovers are eaten for a week. Some things are frozen and eaten later in the year.
My wife and I celebrate Friendsgiving with a group. We’ve been doing this for a while and it’s become our Ashland tradition. I’m looking forward to it, as friends that I’ve not seen in months will be there. I enjoy their company and catching up with their news.
A friend of ours is breaking her tradition this year. She loves Thanksgiving and plays hostess to her extended family every year. This year, though, her newly married son invited her and hubby to his in-laws’ Thanksgiving celebration, an enthusiastically accepted invitation, with just one hitch: part of his new family’s Thanksgiving tradition is a visit to the family spa in the nude. About that, she is not enthusiastic. She is seventy years old and a radical mastectomy survivor. She’s not excited about others viewing her nakedness, age and mastectomy or not. She’s just not one to share her nakedness. We understand. As my wife said to, “Hell to the no. Nobody outside of you is seeing my body.” That’s a position she’s held since she was a little girl.
Today’s music comes out of a car ride yesterday. The song is called “Classic” by Cam and came out in 2020. There are lines in it which we enjoy: “Johnny and June, Chevy light blue (They don’t make ’em like this anymore), Bette Davis, Yellow pages (They don’t make ’em like this anymore).” When we first heard it after its release, we laughed, went home and confirmed that we heard right.
Well, if you’re read this post before, you know that The Neurons liked that and have kept it going in the morning mental music stream this morning.
This is a late post. I’ve had my coffee, as I spent the first hours cleaning up and doing dishes after my wife did her cooking last night. Stay positive and test negative. Hope you have a day with an outcome worthy of giving thanks. Here’s Cam with “Classic”.
Cheers
The Tucker floof awoke me with song at an early time. “Get up, get up, it’s time to eat. Get up, get up, no time to sleep. Get up, get up, feed me some food. Get up, get up, or I’ll keep up this tune.”
Which he did. So I did. That makes this Mewsday.
The sky crashed down on his last night. Well, starting just after two in the afternoon, winds shifted, bringing the Rum Creek fire‘s smoke right down the I-5 corridor, changing the color of our air quality indicators from green to red like a traffic signal at work. Although it looks and smells better today, we’re at 152, red, and not good. Actually, the peculiarities of the narrowing valley and slope that I live on brings the air quality down to a more endurable 105. A wind shift can take that away, making us like the rest of the city.
Sunrise was a mellow and uneventful period at 6:33 AM. Sunset cometh at 7:50 PM. Cool 54 F now but a high of 34 C is on deck.
Got a Tom Petty song in mind. Heard it on the radio the other day. The Neurons said, “We like this,” and kept it on as background music in the mental music stream since. The song is “Leave Virginia Alone”. I remember hearing the Rod Stewart version back in 1995. Didn’t move me deeply. I was unaware that Tom Petty wrote it, learning that later, when he covered it himself. It sounds more like a Tom Petty style song than a Rod vehicle to me.
Okay, where is the coffee, please? The cats have abandoned me. Tucker is silent and coffee is needed. Stay positive, test neggy, etc. Have a good Monday, whatever that means on your spectrum. Here’s the song. A little mellow for a coffee-less Monday to my ears but it makes The Neurons happy. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 