Tuesday’s Theme Music

Twilleekin on Tuesday trimantled toi toward testigenical twellings. But other than that, all is calm in the valley on Jun 14, 2022, at least in this household. Don’t know what’s going behind other walls and winders.

Fifty-one F is the claimed temperature and it feels right by degrees. Sunshine bathes cat furs and plants. We turned toward the sun at 5:33 this morning and will turn away at 8:48 this evening. Temperatures remain cool for spring’s final days, with 70 F being mentioned as the likely high. No rain today, alteough they rain has been welcomed in our area. Even with this added rainy season, our local lakes, rivers, and dams are only measuring at less than a quarter of capacity. Our local cistern is 100%, of course, but that’ll provide the city with about 31 days of water. The irrigation district, which provides water to a lot of farms and orchards, still says it can only provide about thirty days of water, not enough for a proper growing season, especially if we’re seeing regular breakouts above the century mark.

Did yardwork for the past several days — it’s an ongoing project — and discovered black bear scat just off the front porch. Wasn’t big so the bear probably wasn’t either. Sightings are regularly reported all around this area so it’s not a shock, just worth noting.

Jim Seals of Seals & Crofts died recently. They had several pop hits and the neurons have introduced their song, “Summer Breeze” into the morning mental music stream. The song was released in 1972. I entered tenth grade that year and met the girl who would become my spouse three years later. It’s a mellow song for a mellow day.

Stay positive, and so on. I am trying, myself. Speaking of which, here’s my coffee. Enjoy the music and thanks for reading. Cheers

A Traveling Dream

I was a young man, with my extended family. Cousins, including three deceased members, were there, along with aunts and uncles, and my parents (who, in RL, divorced when I was young).

We were ‘getting ready to go’. Where we were heading wasn’t properly defined. We’d had a reunion party the night before. The next day found the place trashed. Cans of beer and beer kegs were in the bathrooms. I was walking around, trying to make sense of things. We had two buildings divided by a parking lot where we were staying. Each of those buildings had a large game room with several bathrooms off of them. But beer was everywhere, mostly domestic brands like Schlitz, Miller’s, Stroh’s, and Buds, drinks from my childhood. I was laughing at that beer selection, questioning them, “Couldn’t we have done better?” They accused me of being a snob. We laughed about it all.

But the chaos annoyed me. We were due to leave soon. No one seemed ready, and they didn’t seem to care. Two vehicles were there for our travels. Both were sort of RVs. One was black and the other was red. Polished and shiny, they looked like wingless jets with wheels. People were filling them up with things they were taking. Checking it out, I proclaimed, “You’re trying to take too much. We’re not going to have any room for people.”

I went down into a game room to use the bathroom and encountered my father. He was in a jovial mood. I told him that I wanted to use a bathroom and was going to move the beer out of there so I could and asked if he would help. He just laughed and opened a beer. I said, “You’re having a beer now? But we’re getting ready to go.”

I became a little annoyed then and went back to the red and black RVs. An aunt came out, chastising everyone that we need to get a move on. I told her, “I know, I’ve been trying to get them organized.” Cousins started piling into the vehicles. I asked, “Who’s driving?” Aunt P answered, “You are.” I replied, “But I don’t even know where I’m going.”

She said, “Of course you do. You always know.”

Dream end.

Sunday’s Theme Music

Was supposed to be rainy again today but the weather changed overnight. It’s damp and chilly, with sunshine sprinting out between the clouds while the clouds hurry to stop the sun. Winds gust and fuss about the trees and bushes, sending the cats back in for cover. It’s 44 F now and we’re looking at a high of 56 F.

Hi. This is Sunday, May 29, 2022. Sunrise was at 5:39 AM and sunset will be here almost fifteen hours later, at 8:38 PM.

I have a song called “How Can I Be Sure” in my morning mental music stream. The neurons put it there. I was skating through Facebook last night to see what my family is up to — they’re always up to something, as this is birthday season for several young nieces and nephews, and grand-nieces and grand-nephews — when I saw a post by a friend. She’s approaching her fiftieth and was a David Cassidy fan, so she’d shared his version of “How Can I Be Sure” on her FB page. My neurons remembered the Young Rascals rendition, because my older sister had and played on her record player, so here we are. The neurons have it on a loop, giggling as it plays in the background to everything that I’m doing. I must share it to release it to the ROW and save my sanity.

Stay positive, test negative, etc. I find that drinking coffee often helps me reach a positive state, and recommend it. Here’s the song. Cheers

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Rain drops tune up on windows and vents for a melody I don’t recognize. Wind chases the cats back into the house’s security. The sun crested the southeast ridges at 6:22 AM but sunshine remains a wan, flighty element. Our temperatures will range from 46 F to 54 and back down again before the sunset show at 7:58 PM.

Today is Wednesday, April 20, 2022 — yes, 420. A lot of people have fun with this aspect of calendaring, you know, the code for marijuana or cannabis consumption, but it doesn’t move me much. I’ll probably joke with friends about it later.

I watched a fun drama, Metal Lords (Netflix), about high school boys pursuing a quest to be a heavy metal band. Lot of entertaining references to metal throughout helped, but there was strong acting and directing, and solid production values. While the usual high school tropes permeate, they’re lightly employed, because, come on, the usual tropes of bullying, social awkwardness, hormones, and cliques, do exist in RL HS, DB Weiss, who brought Game of Thrones to HBO, also deftly delivers some intelligent nuances to the tropes. I enjoy it and recommend it.

Anyway, the movie left me with a taste for a favorite of mine when I was on puberty’s cusp. “Paranoid” by Black Sabbath (1970) is in the morning mental metal music stream. Hope you enjoy it. Speaking of taste, my tastebuds are yearning for a little black magic brew. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, etc. Cheers

An Easter Memory

Preparing for an Easter brunch with friends prompted my neurons to pull up a memory. I was young, in my crewcut years. Honing in on the period, I was living in Wilkinsburg, PA, attending Turner Elementary School on Laketon Road, and going to my grandparents’ house in Irwin for Easter. So, it was 1964 and I was seven going on eight.

Dad was in Turkey or Greece on military assignment. He and Mom were divorced, and she was now a single mother working as a Bell Telephone operator, raising me and two sisters. I was the middle in this child sandwich. Mom and my Dad’s parents coordinated an Easter visit, probably so Mom could work the holiday and get the extra pay. She went all out that year, buying us new Easter clothes. It was a suit for me – blue and cream houndstooth jacket with a smart dark blue vest which matched my dark blue pants. I wore a clip-on tie. Black and white photographic evidence exists somewhere, but they’re in boxes on shelves in the garage that require an expedition along the lines of an archaeological expedition looking for a lost civilization, so it’ll need to hold for another day. On that Easter morning, we found three enormous baskets waiting for us. We were spoiled children, so there were large chocolate bunnies, jelly beans, peeps, marshmallow eggs, hard-boiled eggs which we’d dyed the day before, and a large coconut chocolate egg, all in pink, yellow, and green baskets with fake green grass made out of fine, shiny plastic. After discovering our baskets, we hunted for eggs around the apartment and then dressed in our new duds. My Uncle Bill, Dad’s youngest brother, picked us up in his brown Plymouth Fury and conveyed us to grandma and grandpa’s where we dined with all the area aunts, uncles, and cousins. Grandpa prepared his favorite, a ham. He baked one whenever he had a chance. (Uncle Bill would trade in that Fury in a few years and buy a year-old dark green Dodge Charger that had me and my friends drooling on its vinyl bucket seats. It was such a cool car.)

Mom joined us after dinner. The adults told us to go play or watch television while they gathered in the dining room for card games, focusing on the traditional family favorite, Tripoli. They were all smoking back then – Pall Mall, Lucky Strike, Kent, Kool. Several adults enjoyed beer such as American lagers like Iron City and Stroh’s, but whiskey sours were also very popular.

Yes, it’s my favorite memory. Smelling a Pall Mall or one of those other cigarettes whisks me right back there. It’s rare that such smoke touches my nose in these days. As for those beers, I found them light and tasteless. Over in Japan, I often indulged in beer from Australia and New Zealand. In Europe, I drank whatever was brewed in that country, but they had some excellent offerings everywhere. By the time I returned to the US, the craft brew industry was booming.

Today, though, brunch with friends outside, with the sun shining and laughter ringing across the yard, will be another favorite memory. Another favorite, but of another kind. Nobody smoked cigarettes. No alcohol was consumed. A potluck brunch, salmon was served with grilled asparagus along with several sorts of potato dishes, delicious quiches, fruit salad, and cinnamon muffins.

It’s a long, long way from Pittsburgh, PA, in 1965 to Ashland, OR, 2022.

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Rotating and orbiting as the planet has done for billions of years, we now come to February 2, 2022. A Wednesday, it may be memorable to many people for many reasons, but how does it compare to the past trillions of days? Our human lifespans are so short compared to the universe’s life scale that little of what we do is memorable in the cosmic sense. It’s why we narrow our focus down to our personal spaces and calendars. Contemplating the greater scale may well lead to nihilistic conclusions or heavy consumption of coffee, alcohol, or other drugs. Or eating disorders. So let’s just keep focus on our smaller but amazingly impactful days. They are impactful on us and that’s what builds our memories and experiences and skew our emotions.

Anyway, the sun ‘rose’ at 7:23 AM and will ‘set’ at 5:27 PM. I’ll drink some coffee and eat some food. I’ve already done some of the latter. You’re probably doing something similar, eating, or thinking about what you’ll eat, even considering, perhaps, who you’ll eat it with. Here in Ashland, it dropped to 28 F last night. Now it’s 36 with a high of 44 expected for the day. Dollops of congealed gray and white cloud float on the blue sky. We do not expect rain.

I haven’t done any of my daily games. They’ll come soon. I guessed my first word in Wordle in two guesses yesterday. On the other hand, it required all six in two games. Four other games took three or four. Yeah, I like Wordle. Getting it in two is luck. For instance, in the first game when I guessed it in two, the last two letters of my first guess were green. On a whim, I entered poppy as my second guess. That was the word. Yea for me.

Weirdly, I have a song called “If Not for You” living in the morning mental music stream. Bob Dylan wrote and recorded the song. Then George Harrison recorded it, followed by Olivia Newton John. I had the albums for the first two performers. I heard the ONJ version on the radio one day and then turned around and pulled out the vinyl 33-RPM album to listen to Dylan and an eight-track tape to listen to George’s version. Doing that back then in my bedroom in Pittsburgh somewhere around 1973 (all of the versions were out by 1971), I never imagined the technology that would allow me to sit at my computer and pull up the same songs. Trippy, innit? Just think of how it all might be in another fifty years or so, right?

Part of me thinks about memories like this and wonder why it stays so sharply in my memory today that I can look around that room from my vantage here and see and hear the details of my life then. A sliver of me muses that maybe there’s some cosmic entanglement taking place. Another facet of me shrugs and mumbles, who knows?

For today’s theme music, I’ve selected a recording of Dylan and Harrison playing it together. Makes me smile. Stay postive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax and boosters when you can. I’m off for coffee now. Looking forward to it. Here’s the music. Cheers

A House Dream

I was split about what I was calling this dream because of its varying facets. WTH.

I was a teenager. I’d biked back to visit an area where I previously lived, to see the friends still living there.

But my friend wasn’t home. Platinum blonde and white, with hair and clothing styles lifted from the 1960s, aunts and older female family friends were there and told me, “Make yourself at home.” I was in the kitchen with them and felt uncomfortable because it wasn’t my place. They scoffed away those protests while they stayed busy chatting and doing things.

The large, bright kitchen was fresh, airy, and uber-modern. Hidden doors and cupboards were everywhere. The refrigerator opened and unfolded like a transformer toy and held an amazing amount of food. My astonishment rabbited higher with every revelation.

One aunt was looking for cheese. Announcing, “I can’t find it, I have to go to the store for it,” I replied, “Wait, no, I know where it’s at.” I showed her some unfolding refrigerator section that she didn’t know about where the cheese was tucked away.

After that, I walked around the home’s bottom level. My friend’s mother returned home at that point. Short and fair, blue-eyed, with pink lipstick and white gold hair cut like Marlo Thomas in “That Girl”, she told me that I was welcome to stay as long as I like. I demurred but walked around because the house fascinated me. The living room had two large, comfortably furnished conversation pits, but the back of the living room had two natural reflecting pools surrounded by cliff walls. I saw my friend’s Mom take her bikini top off and sit back, relaxing and meditating, but looked away, not wanting to impose on her.

Going on through the house, I found a large green lawn adjacent to the living room. No walls separated them. Another front door led into that area from the outside. Two front doors! I was quite impressed and thought, every house should have two front doors. It made sense.

I had my bike now, and pushed it toward the house’s back, where I encountered the ocean. Yes, there was a large beach, reminiscent of central California, inside their house, or the house wasn’t closed in on that end. I couldn’t decide which it was as I enjoyed the crashing waves and different bird varieties.

My friend still hadn’t returned. I decided to head home. I pushed my bike back up into the living room. Seeing his mother, still topless by the reflecting pool, I called out to her, “I’m going home now. Thanks for everything.”

She came to me, putting a tee shirt on as she did, and asked questions about my planned route home. Announcing she was going that way, she said that she’d ride with me, and pulled her bike out. She was doing some shopping that way.

We rode our bikes along a rutted narrow dirt road filled with potholes and talked. She asked me why I liked her. I told her because she was intelligent, clever, charming, and beautiful. I raved a bit about her house, which I thought was amazing. She was distant in reply; I realized she wasn’t paying attention but was focused on riding her bike.

We arrived at a little market where she wanted to stop to buy bubble gum. Small wicker buckets at angles on wooden platforms abounded in a cramped, small stall. She told me to pick out some gum for myself and then said, “Oh, I need to get tongue for the dogs.”

“Tongue?”

She was holding up several packages. “Oh, yes, they love it.”

I was bewildered. “But isn’t that bubble gum?” Then I thought, who would make tongue-flavored bubble gum? I must have misunderstood.

That’s where it ended.

Tuesday’s Theme Music

Sunny and windy, and a little chilly are my first descriptors for today. Add in a weak sun — all things being relative — and a thin layer of fading white clouds, and our current axis and place on the Earth, and you arrive at a winter day that’s 46 degrees F and will get fifteen degrees warmer. Sunrise came for us on this Tuesday, January 25, 2022, at 7:31 AM and the setting will come at 5:16 PM.

I have an old song by the American Breed rolling around in the morning mental music stream. The American Breed had a hit with “Bend Me, Shape Me” in 1968. I was twelve, living in a suburb of Pittsburgh, PA known as Penn Hills. Going to Washington Elementary School. We took buses to and from it every day. My best friends were my cousin, Rick, who lived up the street, along with Bruce, Curt, and John. The five of us hung around a lot in those early years. I had crushes on Vicky, Joy, and Marla, very smart and pretty girls. I was learning the guitar then with dreams of being a rock store, but I didn’t have the focus and discipline to keep playing. I’d rather daydream, read, draw, or play sports.

Ah, good times. Groovy times. Don’t know what prompted all that to spirt up out of my head today. But there it is. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vaccine and boosts. Oh, and watch out for Opposite Day. Yes, today I Opposite Day in the U.S., but don’t take it too seriously, you know? Here’s the music. Guess I’ll get the coffee. Cheers

The Tornado Dream

I remember five dreams from last night. Two were military dreams. The enticing dream was the tornado dream.

I was a small boy when I went outside to look at the sky. As children will, I heard of something happening. I didn’t understand most of it but the gist was that it had something to do with the sky and the weather.

So out I went. It seemed pleasant outside. Calm. I looked across a rolling housing development similar to one where I resided outside of Pittsburgh, PA, when I was young. Low lines of brick houses with aluminum siding and one and two car garages aligned on either side of neat, wide streets. No sidewalks, all the houses were setback, with proudly maintained green lawns and tidy bushes.

As I’m looking, a shout rings out. I see a man and woman pointing, then children pointing. I hear them shouting, “Tornado!” They’re pointing toward me. I look up. A narrow, silvery gray funnel is descending from the clouds toward me.

Crying for help, I throw myself down and clutch the grass, yelling as the funnel cloud rotates around me, tugging at my body. I hang on, shouting for Mom, “Help, the tornado is trying to get me.” I look back. It’s still there. Other funnels are descending.

I keep hanging on until the tornado vanishes. Nobody comes to help me, but I survive unscathed. Dream end.

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