Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
People going into hospice care seems to be increasing in numbers. Not a great surprise as the population ages and end-of-life planning becomes more widespread.
I do think we might consider verbalizing ‘hospice’, though. Instead of stating that someone is entering hospice care, why not say they’re being hospicized?
Mood: Visative
My computer said, “Looks like you’re in Penn Hills, PA.”
I replied, “What ’bout it? You trying to start something?”
“No,” the machine said, “just asking, you know, you want the local time and weather?”
Yes, I’m at Mom’s house in Penn Hills, back to help out as I can. I went out to get fresh morning air at 9 AM. Humid, warm air slapped my face. I’m dribbling sweat from my pits. I’s 73 F with a high of 84 F coming up. Light rain is expected at 5 PM. The Neurons are like, what is this stuff, humidity?
A stranger in a strange land vibe flucuates. Mom and Frank are the same as ever but gravity is apparently stronger here. They move more slowly, even sluggishly. I’m noticed the same gravity effect on myself; steps I used to quasi-bound up — couldn’t do too much bounding, with their steep rake, narrow confines, and small tread — are carefully navigated. Humidity and gravity. I never expected them to betray me.
My visit is open-ended but I think it’s on a short leash. I want to give my sisters and Mom’s boyfriend a little break from having to do everything for Mom.
Yesterday was a travel day. Left the house at 11 AM and arrived at Mom’s place at midnight. Two flights. Both United. One of the two was on-time for a 50% rate. Not bad? I had to scramble between flights in Denver as the next flight was already boarding. It seemed like over half the people on my United Boeing 737 flight rowed were in the same straits. We rushed out of the jetway like ants scrambling from an anthill under duress.
I’m in the kitchen, sipping coffee, listening to the upstairs sounds drift back down to me as they awake and dress to meet the day. I let them sleep in. I know how good sleep can feel.
With that background, The Neurons fed Dire Straits, “Sultans of Swing”, into the morning mental music stream. Released in the U.S. in 1979, this was the one which first made folks like me ask, “Who are these guys?” Since its release, I’ve grown fond of Mark Knopfler’s many talents. This puts it all on display.
Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. As noted, I went onto the coffee car already and got my caffeinated assist. Here we go.
Cheers
Mood: oneofthosekindofdaysic
We started this day in Ashlandia, Wednesday, May 1, 2024, at 36 F. Chilly, baby. No clouds besmirched the blue sky. Sunshine stormed in at dawn. Asserting itself like a new young bull, the sunshine and front pushed the temperature up to 53 F. It’s still climbing with an expected final stop at 67 F.
The cats can’t wait until it gets that warm. Both stayed out for a testing period in the early hours but galloped to the house when I opened the door and offered sanctuary. Tucker and Papi are now napping like the house cats they are.
Yeah, my mood is oneofhosekindofdaysic. All first world blues junk. Fitbit crashing itself, losing two days of data. GASP! Stop the presses. Slow-loading pages. Connectivity matters at the coffee shop. OH NO, it’s the end of the world. Little matters like that which chip away at your spirit like water dripping on stone. It’s such a cruel world. How can I possibly enjoy my scone and coffee under these conditions? Yes, that’s 24 karat snark.
Reading news restores some semblance of balance. People killed in tornados and storms. I can’t deter my brain from imagining what their death must have seemed like. The noise and power of the storm followed by some manner of incident which causes their demise. Seems like a lonely and terrifying way to die. Of course, hearing incoming missiles or artillery shells also seems terrifying. Is it worse when a blow just comes with little sound and warning? What about being a child in a school listening to one your classmates picking off your peers as they walk the halls with a semiautomatic weapon? That also seems like it would generate all-consuming terror.
One of my nephews experienced his 18th birthday recently so I was thinking about him. Naturally, The Neurons conjured Alice Cooper to the morning mental music stream (Trademark simmering) with “I’m Eighteen” from 1971. The song came out three years before my eighteenth natal day, so I had a ready-made theme song for the day.
I pondered the differences between what I was like and my life, and my young nephew. A straightforward comparison is hard to generate. Our social mediate in those days was passing notes and writing letters. Information was just beginning to emerge beyond AM/FM radio and the big three national television networks.
But I think both ages embody a sense of chaos and challenges. I think that’s so for every generation, no matter the era. We face the same issues of finding our nature and going forward as adults.
He, from my vantage, is an intelligent, poised, and talented individual. My sis, his Mum, is proud of him, and so am I. I look forward to seeing him soon. I hope he votes this year and casts a blue ballot.
Okay, I’ve boarded the coffee train. Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Here’s the rock video. Stay chill. Cheers
When I say thank you in response to service, the young baristas respond, “Of course.”
Makes me smile. I remember when I used to respond, “No problem.” Then some elder – he must’ve been fifty or more, and I was pushing through my teens – said, “Whatever happened to ‘you’re welcome’?”
Fifty years later, I understand his lament.
Metafloofphosis (floofinition) 1. A person who imitates animal behavior and sounds so often that they give the impression that they’re becoming an animal themselves. Origins: 15th century Fleek.
In Use: “Julie’s habits of barking to her dog in conversation and getting down on her hands and knees to play with him worried her husband, who often began telling others, ‘I think she’s going through a metafloofphosis and wouldn’t be surprised if she woke up as a dog one day.”
2. An animal’s change of attitude, behavior, or looks. Origins: 19th century American Floofish.
In Use: “Mahommes arrived as a young feral cat whose furious strikes and angry expression shouted, ‘Mess with me and I WILL DESTROY YOU.’ But with patience, food, treats, soft words, and time, he went into a metafloofphosis and emerged as a sweet, loving boy who enjoy laps and playing.”
I was born in the U.S. in 1956. I’ve seen many changes. I never thought I’d live in a time when people would be ordering fast food from a place like McDonald’s on their phone, and it would be delivered.
Course, I didn’t expect to be typing about it on a computer in a coffee shop and sharing it with strangers, wirelessly, at that.
Didn’t think phones would be called cells, either.
We need to keep looking forward
while still glancing back
as we shouldn’t forget the horror
of all those wars and attacks
something better must be ahead
because look back how it was
it’s a long arc and takes time
but peace and justice for all is our cause
Sunshine glistens, highlighting white clouds with plump blue and gray muscles, cutting through the chilly air like a friendly furnace. A Cooper’s Hawk judges the human traffic from a high-wire act. Three blackbirds start an overhead interaction from different compass points, pulling my attention with their fervor. Flying toward a central tree, they posture on naked branches. Intense chatter explodes. Stopping, I eavesdrop to see what I can learn. One spreads their wings, exposing large white coins on their wing’s bottom, and offers a short, shrill, impassioned speech that silences the others. The three depart in relative silence but flap away in the same direction. Some accommodation seems at hand.
Around the corner, a crow sits in a high bare oak branch, black against a blue sky, beaking on about his world assessments. Further on, a robin preaches from the top of a sagging brown wooden fence protecting a yard.
Spring might be coming, if you believe the bird gossip.
Mood: coffeemistic
Good morning to all you fellow solsters, riding Earth as we race around the sun. It’s a fine and blustery sprinter day in Ashlandia, where coffee shops and bookstores are above average. Sunshine is bursting at the seams today, Saturday, February 2, 2024, although I don’t know what seams. Just an expression I picked up from Mom eons ago. I challenged her, what seams, when she used the expression on something without seams. “It’s just an expression for something really big,” she replied. “Use your imagination.”
The cats love the sunshine but dislike the cold and wind. See, despite the sun and an outside temperature of 47 F, that wind changes the feel index, and the cats know it. This is strongly true in the shadows, and both Tucker and Papi ended up declaring, the paw with this. Though, of course, Tucker tried once and knew while Papi had to go out and come back four times to verify it was better outside.
Objective one in selling the house is underway. The house was washed yesterday. Second task is the scrapping and minor repairs. Third is the actual painting. Then we move to objective two, landscaping.
The cats’ reaction to the power washing was interesting. Tucker went to his bed spot, thoroughly washed, and went to sleep. Papi, however, watched and then distanced himself from the house. Impressively, as soon as my wife returned from her exercise class, coincidently when the painting crew left, Papi raced past her into the house when she opened the door. Straight to the food bowl the poor floof went, scarfing down kibble to make up for being food deprived for over two hours.
Today’s song is “Hand Me Down World”, a song released by a Canadian rock band, The Guess Who, back in 1970. Though more known for their hit, “American Woman”, the band had a number of other hits and I enjoyed them. The Neurons plugged this into my morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks) today fifty-four years later because I made the mistake of thinking about something that was hand-me-down in the kitchen, a pie server.
I feel the same now about the song and its intentions as I did fifty-four years ago. Basically viewing it as a protest against the way things are, the song argues for change for the better. Remember that this was the cold war era, when the US and USSR and their respective allies stood ready to fire off nukes at one another in the name of deterrence. Remember, too, the pollution filling the skies, turning cities like Pittsburgh into midnight on sunny days. The Civil Rights Movement was storming across the nation, the Vietnam Conflict was still underway, and protests against business as usual in politics was a regular feature of the nightly news. Look up the history of the 1960s and you’ll read about protests in the streets and on campuses. Remember segregation and integration, the Detroit riots, the Chicago 7, police brutality, and the 1968 Democratic National Convention? Then, to cap things off in 1970 were the Kent State National Guard shootings. The 1960s were also when President John F. Kennedy and Senator Bobby Kennedy were assassinated, along with MLK, Jr., and Tricky Dick Nixon was lodged in the White House. This was the era of tune out and turn on as the hippie culture rose.
There was a lot of other things happening in that troubled era of change. All that’s the iceberg’s top. So, yeah, thirteen years old, I was ready for change, and embraced songs like this calling for it. Although we’ve made a lot of progress since then, the GOP is ready to go back to that bullshit. We’re still dominated as a nation by racism, sexism, discrimination, and the patriarchy. We’re still fighting for equality and justice for all, regardless of how they look, their gender or sexual orientation, or the color of their skin. We’re supposed to be a melting pot of different strengths, weaknesses, and differences, which was what made us strong. Progress has been made but a lot more is needed.
Yet so many people’s minds are closed against progress. Many are keeping their minds closed to be spiteful. Others didn’t keep up with change and resent that their way of life has been left behind. Others are apparently so full of hate for those who are not them that they’re ready to destroy the nation in the name of their politics or gods.
Stay positive, stay strong, lean forward, and vote like your rights depend on it. I’m coffeenated but ready for more. Here’s the music. Cheers
