His eyebrows had transmorgified once more. As a youth, he had pleasant eyebrows — two clean, mildly arched lines populated with fine, neat hairs. Later, his eyebrow hairs thickened and a unibrow developed. He didn’t much mind the unibrow because he was often favorably compared to another unibrower, actor Tom Selleck, a flattering comparison. His forties found his unibrow’s center fading. Meanwhile, thicker brows appeared. A wild bramble of hairs took over. Suddenly the comparisons shifted from Selleck to the Soviet leader, Brezhnev, or television commentator Andy Rooney.
Those brows faded and changed, too. Now his brows had taken on another actor’s look, developing a Sam Waterston flip, where the eyebrows darkened and thickened again, but pointed up.
Like his eyebrows had their own life and pursued their own style. He wondered what they were going to do next.
-2 degrees C. Sunshine soaks everything in sight. Two runners in cold suits run up the street. It’s a tough hill, so I am impressed, especially in this weather. Then I pour coffee and sip, reflecting, I used to do that stuff.
I was thinking about issuing an NTF about me and things I’ve never done or been. I can be a superhero, rock star, astronaut, and other things I fantasized about becoming as a child. It can be a good way to make some extra cash, if I can bring some buyers to the table. That’ll be a task worthy of Hercules. I’ll also need an artist to make me prettier and clean up my looks. But it’s a good winter project.
It’s Saturday, December 17, 2022. The countdown to winter solstice has accelerated. Oh, yeah, other holidays are under way or approaching, too. We like to celebrate solstice with mulled wine, soup, bread and salads. Then we burn a log, write our wishes on little scraps of paper, tie them with string or ribbon, and burn them. Hasn’t really worked as far as granting wishes, but it’s a hopeful and joyous evening. The company and wine is good, too.
While it’s below freezing now, we expect a high of 42 F. Sunrise, when this shine was unleashed on us, 7:34 this morning and daylight’s ebb will fall on us at 4:40. And so it goes. Last night had a solid moon out there and lots of moonshine. I can only wonder about what was going on in the shadows. The cats showed little interest in leaving for change, until 5:37 this morning, when Papi said, I must go out and make my rounds. I’m thinking about issuing an NTF of my cats, too. There will probably be more buyers for them. Maybe if I put my cats in my NTFs, like I’m a muscular handsome superhero carrying my cats. Will that work?
I have the song, “Season of the Witch” by Donovan in my mind, a song which was released in the mid sixties. How’d this come about, you ask. Why do you have that song in your head? Well, that was about looking out the window. As I sipped coffee and contemplated the other side of the pane, Der Neurons began the lyrics, “When I look out my window. what do you think I see? And when I look in my window, so many different people to be. It’s strange, sure is strange.” So there we go. So many recent events might evaporate out of my head and bits of knowledge challenges my recall, but my mind can pull Donovan lyrics from almost sixty years ago.
Going in for another cuppa coffee and a bagel. Stay pos and test negative. Dress appropriately for the weather wherever you are, and whatever weather which you weather. Here’s the music. It’s a typical Donovan style tune. Enjoy Saturday. Cheers
He always liked it when he encountered friendly bathrooms, ones with polite lighting and friendly mirrors. Too many times, he encountered mean-spirited bathrooms where he saw himself in the mirror and gasped, “OMG, WTF happened to me?”
He has noticed that as he gets older, he more frequently pronounces things as ‘just right’. It’s like he’d becoming one of the three bears who visit Goldilocks.
Sunshine skirts the trees and licks the sky into fresh blue shades. Familiars remind me that I’m home. People say, oh, you made it, as though the standing in lines and sitting in seats that frame commercial air travel in this era was a slog. The slog is behind the scenes, where they’re building and maintaining the machines and coordinating the actions. I’m just a passenger on that plane, just as I’m a passenger on starship Earth.
Sunrise in Ashland today came over us at 7:20 AM. Cool mountain air, measured at 54 F, put a shiver in my body. Gonna be 88 F, the weather wizards say. Smoky haze covered the valley from the Cedar Creek fire further west in the state. Not heavy smoke but enough for you to see it’s there, a reminder of the fire’s existence. Sunset, they tell me, will be 6:34 PM.
Being home is a comfort. Having my wife chatting about all she’s done and is doing and is to do brought me into the groove. Tucker and Papi did their feline duties, purring welcomes, permitting me to show my affections through liberal scratches of their ears, heads, and backs.
Traveling was the mix of fun, weariness, anticipation, and frustration that I’ve come to expect. Being in flight, taking off before sunrise and then having the sun chase us down over the Rocky Mountains delivered plenty of thought fodder. As you know, many sings exist about traveling, aircraft, flight, and sunrise. Plenty for The Neurons to say, oh, there’s a theme song and stick it in my mental music stream. But I found myself watching people, splitting time between clothes, shoes, body language, and faces. Out of watching faces, The Neurons pulled up “Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town” by Pearl Jam. A song released six million years ago or more, it tells of a woman struggling to remember another’s name, wishing to say hello, and failing. The Neurons were right to pick it up off of the organic reflections generated from my visit home, to places that were and now aren’t, and faces filling with aging’s shifts.
So here we are. Cats are fed, breakfast is eaten, coffee was brewed, its scent inhaled, its pleasant bitterness introduced to my tongue as another fresh experience. Stay pos and test neg, and do the vaccines needed to overcome and move on. I’m with you there.
Here’s the tune. Hope you can enjoy your Wednesday and build on it. Cheers
The cycles of life came in the mail. Credit card invitations when he was young. Cable and Internet deals in his middle age. House and window cleaning services as he aged, followed by landscaping and financial planning, then house-painting and payday loans.
As he reached his mid-fifties, AARP became friendly, as did companies like Prudential, offering planning assistance, worrying if he was saving enough for retirement. Cruise and vacation suggestions came every week. Everyone became concerned about his estate and his will. Hearing-aid flyers were frequently received. Then came funeral and cremation services, with coupons and discounts!
Reaching his mid-sixties brought flyers and letters for Medicare plans. Of course, every two years through it all were pieces from politicians, PACs, and political parties asking for a little money, pleading their cases, railing against one another, and demanding change.
Coming with weekly persistence regardless of the year or his age were advertisements from his local stores, catering to the holidays and time of year.
Fondly he remembered his past mail as he perused the latest offering from an assisted living residence and dropped it into the recycling bin, letting his imagination run wild about what his future mail would bring.
This is Sunday. We’ve awoken to that fact. Other information filters in. May 15, 2022. Almost half of May numbered as the past. Almost half of 2022 joining the historic ranks. Sunrise, 5:50 AM, was bright and strong. There to see it, because Papi stayed up and outside to see it, and called me to come see it. Temperature is 56 F. Anticipated high is around 77 F. Sunset: 8:25 PM.
The neurons floated multiple songs through the morning mental music stream, creating, for a while, a morning mental music stream medley. Yeah, I went there. Most of these songs were from the late 1970s. Putting it together, I think they go well with the age I was in a dream and put it all down to wishful thinking about when, where, and was.
The medley eventually thinned. Linda Ronstadt rose with “Blue Bayou” from 1977 and took over the MMMS. I once won a small wager with this song. About ten years after it’d been a hit for Linda, a young guy was talking about the song. I realized that he attributed it to her as the original artist and told him that Roy Orbison had it as a hit when I was a child. He was flabbergasted. We went through several other songs that night, including, “Knocking on Heaven’s Door”, which he ascribed to Guns ‘n Roses, and “A Hazy Shade of Winter” ‘by’ the Bangles.
I love that one line from the song, “If I could only see that familiar sunrise through sleepy eyes, how happy I’d be.”
Okay, coffee time. Stay positive and test negative. Be on guard, but chill. Here’s the music. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 