Tag: attitude

An Aston Martin Dream

Young again, middle-aged, I was with my wife and others in this place with blue carpets. I don’t know why the others were present, but I was there to see a doctor. The doctor, young, White female, with, with short, dark hair, briefly saw me.

“You need surgery,” she said, indicating my neck. “We’ll do it today.”

That pleased me although I was surprised that my neck was to be operated on. I waited for the my scheduled time to arrive. I noticed the others began dressing up. My wife emerged wearing a dark suit with a white shirt. From overheard snippets, I realized that everyone else was waiting for surgery as well.

I was taken back; I’d not seen the doctor examine any of them. As people came out dressed up, the doctor began telling people when she would see them. Hastily I dressed like the rest, in a black suit with a white shirt and tie, but laughed at it as I did, thinking, this is silly.

Then – poof – the surgery was completed. I didn’t notice a thing but I knew it was done. It’d been so quick and simple, it was completed in an eyeblink.

I encountered my sister-in-law. She and I went off to await everyone else finishing off. I began helping some children drawing with crayons. I ended up with crayon on my white cuffs. While wondering how I was going to clean those off, my SIL showed up with a similar problem. I then took a paper towel and blotted the colors off. I shared what I was doing with her and she started doing the same.

We talked while we did that. I asked when she was going home and how long it would take her. Then I remembered that she lived in Florida. No, she answered with surprise. “I live just an hour and a half away. I’m taking my boyfriend’s train him.”

I hadn’t met her boyfriend but I knew of him. My wife arrived. She and I talked with my SIL and my wife and I announced that we would go get my SIL and her boyfriend some food for their trip home. We went out and bought very large sandwiches with French fries. We ate while we were there.

Then we rushed back to give them their food. They were already gone. We looked down the track to see a three-car train pulling away, which amused me and my wife.

We then needed to go deliver a package. I jumped into my car, a gorgeous and expensive Aston Martin roadster, green, with a white interior. I raced down the highway at very high speeds, overtaking many cars. Then, seeing a line of cars breaking, I slowed down and moved left.

Good thing I did, I told myself, as we overtook a long line of cars and trucks pulling travel trailers. They were stopped. I worried that we wouldn’t be able to mail my package.

Then I pulled up to a booth. Jumping out of the car with my package, I told him what I was doing. He was short, solemn, round Black guy. He listened and worked as I apologized for the state of my package and for not having it correctly prepared.

He shrugged that off, saying something like, “No problem.” I thought the packaging needed to be replaced. He consulted with a co-worker. They agree, it just needed a new clear plastic bag. He put that on, then grinned and told me, all down.

I laughed, surprised at how easy it went. Returning to my car, I prepared to drive away.

Dream end.

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Just Keep Trying

I wrote a brief post about writing novels and searching for agents the other day. My friend, Nan, commented on it and asked how I go about finding an agent. I pointed her to one of the places, MSWL, which I use to search.

Nan commented back.

Way back when I was ready to publish, I did my own research for potential agents and contacted a few with minimal success … which is why I ended up self-publishing.

I suppose a site like this is helpful, but from a quick look-see, it appears more like a resource for “agents” that aren’t getting enough submittals through regular channels.

But it’s been a loooong time since I wrote/published my book, so what do I know? 😉

Nan’s problem before remains my problem now. How do you find an agent?

MSWL is one of five online resources which I use. The publishing industry is changing, though. Traditional publishing and agents are still out there. So is self-publishing. But either one requires editing, marketing, sales channels. Doing these things yourself is a challenge when you self-publish.

As far as I can tell, all the agents which I review are getting many submissions. But they all have different requirements for submitting, whether it’s by snail-mail, email, or online tools like QueryTracker. Some want only the first five pages. Others request a light synopsis or outline. Some agents ask for the first ten pages while others request the first fifty. There are asks for bios, previous work, comps.

Will you hear back? Probably not. You’re generally submitting into a void. The agents are upfront about that.

The many sites are themselves problematic. It’s a challenge for agents to define what they’re looking for and how they’ll accept submissions. But keeping up with keeping sites up to date is yet another challenge. All too often, I find an agent which seems like they’ll be a good fit my offering only to begin the submission process and find that that they changed agencies or are closed to submissions.

It’s a familiar lament. Writers have put out many stories about how many times they’ve been rejected and how long it took them to find an agent and get published. More stories are rising about how writers self-published and achieved success, and then had agents and publishers come calling on them.

I began years ago with a simple question, how do you write a novel? I read books, magazines, blogs, and spoke with successful published novelists. The bottom line: you find out what works for you, and you do it.

It feels like that’s the same answer for publishing: find out what works for you.

Do it.

And to find out, you just keep trying.

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Sunday’s Theme Music — Waiting

Sunday, September 6, 2026. Ashland, southern Oregon.

I went out with Vee — our visitor cat — to check the weather situation. Heavy gray asserted itself overhead, especially to the south. 48 F, one small cup of blue sky was visible and sunshine was lost behind the clouds. “Doesn’t look like it’ll be sunny today,” I said.

“Yeah, feed me, please,” Vee answered.

‘Bout ten minutes later, rain fell. Ten minutes after than, sunshine crashed through the clouds.

Bottom line for us, it’ll be 68 F as our high, with clouds, rain, and sunshine. More springlike weather on this late summer day. Autumn is on the way.

We can use more rain. Not far away, Emigrant Lake is down to just 4% of itself now because of the long drought and the lack of snow last winter.

All quiet on the family side of life. Last I heard from any of them was the other day, when sister Gina was caught in heavy downpour in Pittsburgh while taking her grandson, now a high school student, home from his clarinet lessons. Winds blew down trees and power lines. Streets were flooding, forces many route changes. But they made it safely. Bonding with weather, I can imagine them remembering this together when he has a family and he’s visiting grandma.

Meanwhile, the White House is pushing forward to stop voting by mail, challenging recent court setbacks in the Roberts Court. I wouldn’t be surprised if they rule that Trump can proceed, 5-4, with Roberts again dissenting, questioning the legality.

Trump’s approval rating remains anchored to about 35% of the nation’s voters. The rest of us disapprove of him. So it’s no wonder that Trump is trying to game the system. That’s how he’s always gotten ahead.

Trump Approval Rating: Underwater in the Newest National Polls

I’m basically drifting right now, waiting for the Roberts Court’s ruling, waiting for the next evolution in the Iran War, waiting for the midterms, waiting, waiting, waiting. I can’t wait until Trump is gone. He’s a pox on civilization.

I ended up with Stevie Nicks and “I Can’t Wait” in my morning mental music stream. The Neurons put the 1985 there because of the song’s title. But Stevie is singing about a different kind of anticipation when she’s waiting.

Sample Lyrics

I can’t wait, I can’t wait
Sometimes she talks to him
Sometimes, well, she’s only dreaming
Then, when she wakes up
Somehow, well, she still believes him
Yes, I know you
Though we’ve been out of touch
Yes, I know you
To be continued, it’s too much, well

Although that final line, “It’s too much”, does fit.

May your day proceed without waits to find out what the hell is going to happen. Be strong and go in peace.

Cheers

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Friday’s Theme Music — Let’s Do It

Ashland, southern Oregon. Friday, September 4, 2026.

Another wet and cool, springlike late summer early autumn day. *smile* 58 F with light rain and a full load of clouds. Blue sky sometimes peeks out like a shy young kitten, darting back before we can see that’s it really there. Sunshine comes and goes with even greater speed.

Out in the world, it’s another day of sloppy bad news, mostly because Trump and his administration is still in office, along with those spineless enabling Republicans. Like, they’re crowing about how unexpectedly good the jobs report is when it’s well below what is needed. Then there’s the story about the damage done to the Grand Canyon parks in August — and the Trump administration’s stony silence about it.

More stuff happening on the Mom front, too.

There’s one thing after another. On the one hand, these can be written off as ‘that’s life’. Also, perspective is needed that others have it far, far worse.

Perhaps naively, I remain hopeful for all of us. Optimistic. Polls and commentary feed my hope and optimism. Science. Medicine. So I’m going with “I Got A Feeling” by the Black Eyed Peas as today’s theme music.

As the song says, “Let’s do it, let’s do it, let’s do it.” Get rid of Trump and his sycophants, minions, and enablers. Let’s return our nation to a responsible course where most of us were at least trying to be tolerant of others unlike ourselves and realize that we are better when we respect and help one another. Let’s build something better, and work with the world to take on the challenges to lift us all into a more egalitarian and safer, freer future.

Cheers

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The Water Bottle Dream

Once again, I found myself younger and off at some gathering. Not huge, about one hundred people, I guess. It was some kind of bonding/teamwork thing. Don’t know who was hosting it.

I was part of management. I knew everyone there, at least casually, and some were direct co-workers or friends. Nobody was part of my real-life world.

We’d just finished eating and socializing. Clean up was underway. The undertaking was moving to a new location. Teams were going to be set up and tasks assigned.

As I was familiar with what was happening, I urge everyone to go on while I cleaned up and supervised that aspect. Finishing up, I found a bottle of plastic water. Drinking from it, I headed down to join the rest.

Everyone was scattered in a sort of ornate, fancy hotel lobby. I wandered through, eyeing the groups, listening to the chatter, drinking water from the bottle.

A woman at a podium accosted me from a podium that was up on a platform. She was young and dressed formally in a skirt but with a buttoned up blouse and jacket. I took her to be a concierge or some sort of hostess. Not knowing what she was saying, I went closer to her.

She said, “Wouldn’t you be better off drinking that water somewhere else?”

I didn’t respond. I realized that she thought that I didn’t belong there.

Feeling feisty and amused, I asked, “What did you say?”

Smirking, she leaned forward and looked down at me. First she repeated what she said before. Then she elaborated, “Maybe you have a home you can go to to drink your water.”

Grinning, I drank water and replied, “I like it here. Why shouldn’t I drink it here.”

Lowering her volume, she explained, “You don’t seem to appear like you belong here.”

“Really? Where do I belong?”

Our conversation had captured my friends and co-workers’ attention. Some came over and asked, “Michael, what’s going on here?”

I smiled, almost laughing, as I saw the concierge realize that I was part of that group.

Dream end.

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Friday’s Theme Music – Pretending

Ashland, southern Oregon — Friday, July 3, 2026.

Hot is the word for today. 90 is our expected high. It’s sunny but windy, with a blue sky coping with several blue clouds.

It’s funny to me how Papi awakens me every morning at about 5:50. Today was a little later, 5:57. I wonder about the little clock in his head. More correctly, it seems to be a stomach alarm. “More food, please, hurry.” Which I do. Which he probably wouldn’t ask for if this habit hadn’t been established. Which came about with previous cats and my work schedule. Some things endure change. *smile*

I was looking at the area weather statistics for June. Although we ended on a cool streak, we were 2.5 degrees above average for the month. There were no days when we exactly hit the average.

My body, mind, and spirit feel very strong today. Thank you to everyone who took time to send me positive energy. Send it to others now more in need, please, as I’m doing good.

There’s no escaping Trump today. He’s encountered most days in this era, lying, gloating, boasting, mocking, demeaning. Too often, there’s an announcement accompanied by his smirking visage, and I just respond, ugh.

We have the terrible circumstances that a wealthy man interested only in himself ‘leading’ the government as we celebrate our nation’s beginnings. It feels like a low point. Yes, we’ve been polarized and demoralized before as a country. There have been scandals like Watergate, Contragate, Teapot Dome. There’s been crises like the Cuba Missiles Crises, and so many, many wars. Disasters were endured; pandemics. Assassinations. I didn’t live through many of these and rely on reports others made. I’m living through this, though, and I don’t like it.

What is funny is how fast and consistently MAGA pivots to cover Trump. They embrace his explanations and excuses, ignore his broken promises, and dismiss his lies and convictions in court as meaningless. As they depress me, I turn further and further away from their concerns…

In many ways, I think MAGAts are pretending that Trump speaks for them. They’re pretending that life under him is what they voted for and wanted. They pretend that he’s not misleading them, dismissing them, forgetting them as he grows wealthier and they often grow poorer. Weaker. Sicker.

The real question is, how will they feel when Trump is gone and their situation is not better for any of them except the wealthy? Who will they blame? Where will they turn?

As Trump is already ranked at or near the bottom of historic ratings, I believe that the Trump Era will gain a place in our nation’s history as a dark, low time.

With those of pretending populating my thoughts, The Neurons cranked up “Pretending” in the morning mental music stream. Eric Clapton wrote and recorded it but Jerry Lynn Williams wrote it. With lines like these, it feels right for this Trumpishly diminished day:

“How many times must we tell the tale? How many times must we fall? Living in lost memory you just recall.”

“That’s when I knew she was pretending. Pretending to understand.”

May you find joy and peace in your hours today, happiness in your night, and love in your heart.

Coffee is at hand again. Time to write. Cheers

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Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts

I have bladder cancer surgery tomorrow. I’ve been told what they’ll do, and I have my instructions for washing, sleeping in clean clothes, when to show, what to wear – what I can and drink, when. Anyone who’s had surgery or knows someone who went through surgery is probably familiar with these guidelines.

I’m in a good space for it. Inconveniences abound, yes, and some potential for a life-altering outcome, but I have the healthcare insurance to cover it. Have a team to do it, and a safe place to recover. I won’t need to worry about food or shelter, and my wife is there for me.

I was thinking about how much worse this is for my wife than me. She has to endure the waiting. I mean, if something happens to me, well, it happens. She must deal with the aftermath.

So, I worry about how she worries. I’m anxious about her anxieties.

I asked her, “How are you feeling about my surgery tomorrow?”

She replied, “I feel good about it. I’m not worried at all.”

Which is exactly what I wanted to hear.

No matter what happens to me, I hope she’ll be okay.

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Tuesday’s Theme Music – Helpless

Ashland, southern Oregon — Tuesday, June 23, 2026.

Hot, mid 90s today, copy of yesterday for our valley.

We cope without using the A/C. I like them in cars and businesses, don’t like using them at home. At night, I cool-drench the house and that usually carries us through the day.

Smoke was in the air last night when I popped the door open. Not strong but I definitely smelled it. NextDoor had the answer: a controlled burn in the town next door. They have orchards. Blight had struck. To contain the blight and stop its spread, they cut off the affected limbs and burned them.

People were worried, though. We’re in a red flag situation. Sure, it was a controlled burn, but controlled burns can get out of hand.

Shows the complexity of the entire matter — drought, fire, trees, economy — on one succinct scenario.

At about 6, my wife went into the garage for something and returned. “I want to leave a door open and let hot air. Warm the house. It’s so cold in here.”

It was 92 outside. In the house at that point, it was 79.

She’s been having greater issues with staying warm. More issues with moving. Strength challenges. So freaking depressing to witness. Stoically bearing it, she complains little. Rocks to stand. Grunts with effort. Hangs on to balance herself.

We went to the growers market this morning. Bought baked goods for a friend and took them to him. He has Parkinsons and cancer. His wife is away on a trip with her sister to Alaska. The woman needed it.

Our friend is doing well. The housekeeper was in, finishing. Said she’d be back at 5. Meanwhile, friends are delivering pizza for his lunch at 2 PM.

It takes a community to cope with these things.

I had a pre-op telephone appointment for my bladder cancer on Thursday. Usual stuff about times, bathing with Hibiclens, drinking fluids, eating, where we’re going, where to park, how long it’ll take.

My wife asked, “What about afterward? What’d they say about that?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. This was pre-ops.”

“They’re all so compartmentalized,” she snapped.

I can’t argue that. It’s very true.

My wife and I chatted about the news. She had just read about Trump’s claim that the economy is the ‘opposite of a recession’.

Your Trump Quote of the Day:

This seems like another part of Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL!, an attempt to distract us from what’s really going on.

Anyone living outside of a millionaire’s bubble will probably take issue with Trump’s claims. People are dealing with rising costs associated with energy, housing, food, consumer goods, and healthcare. Trump seems to believe that making these claims will make them true or enough people will simply go along with him on his magic thinking ride.

For the record, for example, oil prices aren’t even down to the levels they were when Trump took office.

Brent crude oil – Price – Chart – Historical Data – News

Beyond Trump’s fractured economic reality, people are awakening to the MOU that ended Trump’s Iran blunder that cost lives and money. They’re basically responding, WTF?

Besides the ongoing saga of the Epstein ballroom construction, we’re also dealing with Algaegate. Trump is straining to point the finger at someone else for the clear disaster that it’s become. It’s such ugly optics, but it perfectly summarizes Trump’s flawed grip on truth, facts, and history.

Today’s music is “Helpless” by Neil Young. Reading the news on some days just engenders that frustration and helplessness, a sense of ‘go do something.’ Protest, scream, call people, write things. Some mornings, I’m a stick stuck in the mud. But I drink my coffee, write out some of my anger. Suck in some air. Count my advantages. Move on for a short while, at least.

“Helpless” is performed by Neil and The Band. Hope you find it worthwhile to hear and watch.

Hope you’re feeling good, doing well, and looking forward to better days.

Cheers

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