Two more puzzles were finished this week. We finished a Wysocki last Wednesday. I shot a photo of it with my phone. Then my phone’s software updated and suddenly my phone wasn’t sharing photos with my ‘puter. Gotta investigate settings and figure out what went wrong.
Anyway, couldn’t share a photo of the completed puzzle so here is a photo of the puzzle box. We’re taking it back to the library tomorrow.
Meanwhile, friends had a visitor and she brought them a puzzle. They didn’t put it together but loaned it to us to complete.
Well, we started it Friday night and finished it Saturday night. One thousand pieces. As you see from the photo, it’s candy. Mostly candy bars.
I wasn’t keen on doing it. I like a puzzle with a couple big focal points. This one looks like it has a hundred tiny focal points. Beside that, it has some irregular shapes. Bah.
But it turned out to be challenging but very engaging and a lot of fun. My wife took to it with a lot of zeal. She really seemed to like all those little foci. Details about the candy being offered and their prices and the small details on the packaging was delightful. I enjoyed seeing Sugar Babies, Junior Mints, Clark Bars, and Milk Duds. These were my childhood favorites although as an adult I gravitated toward Payday. But I didn’t put my nose up at a 3Musketeers Bar (my sister’s favorite), a 5thAvenue, or a box of Good & Plenty.
I wondered, though, about the missing candy bars. Nestle Crunch. Milky Way. And what about Twizzlers? Didn’t they deserve to be included?
If you get a chance to try it, I recommend it. But you can’t have this one. We’re taking it apart and returning it to our friends.
Tuesday is singing through the open windows. A train’s whistle, the bottle recycle truck with its growl and crashes as bottles are thrown into a pile, cars hustling the asplalt. School has begun; the vibe is different. It’s August 27th. Summer’s talking about finishing for 2024.
We drink coffee and surf the net, summoning the energy to launch ourselves to the Growers Market for fresh produce. I have vowed to find a turnover or scone to eat in a late breakfast. I’m ready to go, for I’ve downed some coffee. My wife is moving more slowly.
Purpleair says our air quality is declining and has crossed the line from good to whatever is a littl worse than good. It’s 62 F now but indications are that it’ll chug up to the mid 80s F today.
I continue with time as the theme, as in time must be in the song’s title. A great quantity of rock and pop songs met the standards. Everyone sings about time but nobody does anything about it.
The Neurons have found an oldie. It thrashes the morning mental music stream (Trademark stalled) as I sit here. “Let the Good Times Roll” came out in 1946, ten years before my birth. Louis Jordan was the performer. But in my lifetime, it felt like it B.B. King owned it. I turn to B.B. for today’s primary version, as that’s what I’m hearing in my head.
Stay positive, be strong. Black coffee helps me with those things. Here’s the music. We’re off to the market. Cheers
Today is Saturday, August 24, 2024. It’s a chilly 54 F this morning. I turn on the fireplace and open the blinds. Light rain peppers the greenery with some needed moisture. Sunshine emerges and steam begins rising. Today’s high will be an un-summery 70 F.
We’re back in Ashlandia, where the worries are palpable and the angst is regular. A second well-established restaurant is shutting down after years of business. This is a trend we don’t like.
Ashlandia is dependent on tourism. Drought, pandemic, fires, smoke, and economics have all tested our tourism. Each have contributed to a point where the ‘you are here’ dot is tiny and prickly. We’re home to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. It’s our major industry, abetting revenue brought in by being an outdoor adventure location for fishing, rafting, and skiing (Mt. Ashland) and what Southern Oregon University contributes. Under the impact of those big five factors of pandemic, etc., we’ve been in a slow downward spiral.
We’d already lost the seasonal business called the Water Street Cafe. It’d been a longtime draw but the owner passed and the survivors couldn’t make it work. It’s now a crepe place, and we have high hopes for that.
Last week, the Black Sheep Restaurant announced they’re shutting down. Now Cucina Biazzi is closing. We’re already lost many book stores like the Book Wagon, and coffee shops like The Beanery and Cafe Boulevard. In their place, we’re gaining used clothing stores, marijuana dispenseries, and tattoo parlors. This are not major draws when every other town is offering more of the same.
Being back home, I miss stepping out of the Waldport vacation house and into the seaside environment. I enjoyed going out there each morning and tasting the breeze, studying the tides’ levels, and gathering in sunshine and clouds. I do the same thing here, but it’s not the same with the ocean missing.
I begin another theme for the coming week today. The theme now is songs with time in their titles. Lots come to mind. The time theme came out of being stuck in traffic yesterday as an accident was cleared away. The first song offering from The Neurons is “Time Won’t Let Me” by The Outsiders from 1965. The fast-paced rocking roller is filling my morning mental music stream (Trademark delayed) like I was back in a neighbor’s Wilkinsburg basement listening to it on a 45 record. Actually, I think my memories have better fidelity than that little record player in use. I would’ve been about ten at that time.
Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue. Coffee has made itself comfortable in me. Time for the music. Cheers
Good mornin’ all. Tuesday, August 16, 2024, finds me on the Oregon coast, where I’ll be spending the week. It’s 62 but the weather geeks claims it feels like 77 F. Good thing, as it’s sunny with some clouds, but will only crank up to 65 F here.
Our regular cat sitter is staying with the boys, Tucker and Papi. Tucker is happy with her but Papi, ever wary, is like, “Who are you and what did you do with my people?” She has only done this for us about fifteen years. It takes Papi time to trust.
I don’t know what we’re doing today. Been up a couple hours. Had my coffee. Listening to the others slowly awaken and begin talking about the day. Think I’ll just go for a walk on the beach.
Haven’t seen any news for today or yesterday. I’m comfortable with that for the moment. Color in song titles remains my theme concept for this week. I did “Red Red Wine” and “Dirty White Boy” in the last two days. so I’m going with blue today. When you think about songs with blue in their titles, a blue streak of songs roar through my mind. Or so The Neurons say, cranking out melodies from Elvis Presley, Elton John, Linda Ronstadt, Foreigner, U2, Badfinger, Willy Nelson, and on and on. The Neurons eventually introduced “Bell Bottom Blues” by Eric Clapton to the morning mental music stream (Trademark blue) but also Kenny Wayne Shepherd with “Blue on Black”. But then The Neurons found an old favorite among my memories, “Devil In A Blue Dress”, a 1966 song by Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels. We had that puppy on a 45, shorthand for a small vinyl record that runs at 45 RPM. I was ten then, and it made an impact on me like an asteroid hitting the earth.
Stay positive, be strong, and vote blue. Coffee is now circulating through my body. Yes, I know that’s not how it works, but it is how I visualize it, so there. Here’s the music. Cheers
Oh, what a beautiful morning. I slept fantastically well last night. Only six windows were partially open. We were able to open them on every side of the house because the wild fire smoke had cleared out. It stayed clear all night. I awoke without gritty eyes, a stopped up nose, or sinus congestion, and did not wake up coughing all night long.
The house’s inside temperature dropped all the way to 70 F as the outside air temp plummeted to 52 F. Now it’s up to 60 F outside and will only roll up to 80 F. Yes! Our air quality is good, at 26. Best, I can look across and see the mountains standing tall under deep blue skies.
Ah, read about Musk ‘interviewing’ Trump. That pressed my snark button. There’s an old expression, “I’ll lie, and you agree.” ‘Bout seems up their interactions.
Trump made that old joke that climate change will mean more ocean front property. Yes, how will that develop, fool? He and his supporters can’t see how bereft they are of critical thinking when they say things like that. Each time he says such things and his supporters cheer, I respect them less.
Still going with the dance theme for the week. My Neurons rolled several dance tunes through the morning mental music stream (Trademark line). Like David Bowie’s “Lets Dance”. Or “You Make Me Feel Like Dancing”. Then I had some coffee and they got more lively. Energized, they dipped into the childhood memory storage facilities (CMSF), and brought up “The Twist” by Chubby Checkers.
Well, that doesn’t technically meet the theme of songs with dance or dancing in the title which I’d passed down to The Neurons. But I make the rules, and “The Twist” is about doing a dance called ‘the twist’. Good enough for me.
The song came out when I was two. Mom introduced me to the Chubby Checkers version and taught us how to twist. What child doesn’t like an energetic dance like the twist? It’s fun. I also liked Chubby Checkers’ voice and his name. Chubby Checkers. I always thought that a cool name. With all that going for it, I had to accept its nomination as Tuesday’s Theme Music.
Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee has been dancing through my system for a while now. Here’s the music. Come on, baby, let’s do the twist.
My wife related that she and her coffee group were talking about their required high school reading.
There’s a background to this. They go to StoneRidge Coffee in downtown Ashand after exercising at the Y three mornings a week. Their favorite barista, Shawn (sp?), had been on a big reading kick, reading many novels that we consider classics, like Catch 22 and Catcher in the Rye. Today he announced that he won’t be working there any longer because he’ll be teaching high school in Grants Pass. My wife’s group wondered if that’s why he’d been on a reading tear.
They couldn’t remember what they’d read in high school, though. They did recall that they had to read The Pearl by Steinbeck and several of Shakespeare’s plays. The only one they remembered reading was Romeo & Juliet.
After being told this, I recalled reading MacBeth and Hamlet. I also recalled reading The Red Badge of Courage,Beowulf, Call of the Wild, excerpts out of Dante’s Infernal (as we knew it in school) and The Red Pony. I mentioned that what I most remembered reading, though, were short stories. I vividly remember reading A Jury of Her Peers, The Girls at the A&P, The Visitor, Greenleaf, and The Lottery. They each made quite an impression on me. Besides that, there was some Emily Dickinson, Edgar Allan Poe, and then poems by Frost and Whitman, and essays out of Walden: Life in the Woods.
It’s all a bit sketch, though. Because I enjoyed reading fiction on my own and read Catch 22 and Catcher in the Rye.Papillion was big as a novel then — this was before the movie — as was the Lord of the Rings trilogy and The Hobbit, and Stranger in a Strange Land. Besides that stuff, I was reading a lot of science fiction and fantasy, along with spy thrillers (think Fleming and Le Carre). Then there was Jaws by Peter Benchley, and other popular fiction like that, such as Fear of Flying, Portnoy’s Complaint,In Cold Blood, The Onion Field, To Kill A Mockingbird, The Bell Jar, The Drifters, Centennial, The Thorn Birds, Hotel, Airport, The World According to Garp, Cancer Ward, and Herzog.
I was also involved with the Junior Great Books program for several years, and was required to read their books, stories, and essays, muddying up memory a little more. Further complicating it are courses in French, Russian, Jewish, and American literature in college.
All those books and titles start running together after a while, you know? At least for me. I admire those who can keep it all straight.
I saw a segment on television about the Arlington National Cemetery and Memorial Day activies. Following a whim, I looked up my little brother’s marker and location. Four years younger than me, he lived for just over a few weeks. I remember the night Mom received the notification that he’d passed. Washing the dishes at the time, she stood there at the sink, a dish cloth in her hand, and cried and sobbed as I watched, asking her, “What’s wrong?”
The copter continues the watershed cleanup. I can watch him manuever through the kitchen window. Sounds give clues of his comings and goings. Right now, he’s resting in the air above the peak of a conifered-blessed mountain.
Looks like a good flying day out there on Tuesday, April 23, 2024. Sunshine gleams off windows and cars. Full-fledged green leaves on trees dapple lawns and houses with shadows. A few clusters of cloud islands hold steady on the western horizon.
It’s 17C outside, about 62 F. We’re heading for a 76 degrees F high. Rain has a chance but it’s less than 40% chance. Usually at those odds, we don’t see it.
Mom is supposed to be heading home today. She should actually be there, per the schedule, as she told me she was being released noon Eastern. Which was almost an hour ago. I find that most hospitals are optimistic about when things will happen. Like the military and DMV, there’s a lot of waiting at a hospital. I’m living on a hope that she’ll go home today and be relatively healthy and happy for a while and put some of these health scares to rest.
With that thinking, I tripped down the trail of what it used to be like back home, when I still held the flowers of youth in my appearance. The Neurons responded by conjuring a jazzy Stevie Wonder song that speaks to that essence, “I Wish”. The 1977 song is echoing through my morning mental music stream (Trademark drifting). I found an online offering of him doing the song live in 1982. Sweet. I hope you enjoy it.
Here we go. Stay positive and be strong. Vote Blue in 2024, and let’s see if we can stem the retreat of rights and sanity. Coffee is brewed and ready to be introduced to my body.
Mood: Sunflective (it’s sunny, and I’m reflecting on life, the universe, and everything)
It’s Marijuana Day, don’t you know. That is 4/20. Add a 2024 and make it a Saturday, and you have the full day/date situation.
420 is a reference to the time to meet and light up a doobie. That time originated with a group of U.S. high school students meeting up at 4:20 PM to search for a marijuana field. I originally heard it was police radio code for marijuana.
Another warmish spring day has touched down in Ashlandia, where the coffee is fresh and above average. It’s 70 F right now. Despite clouds breaking in over the horizons, today’s high has a few more degrees to go. You know the floofs are in full agreement with tasting some warm sunshine, don’t you.
Today’s music is about Dickey Betts. Lead guitarist (a job shared for a period with Duane Allman) and vocalist with the Allman Brothers Band, he passed this week, 80 years old. Man, when ABB came out with “At the Fillmore East” in 1971, I bought that thing and added it fast to the rotation. I’ve had a version of that double album from vinyl to digital ever since. Still play it once in a while when a nostlaxing mood strikes. Nostlaxing would be nostalgic and relaxing. You get it, don’t you?
Once while listening to “Whipping Post”, my wife, who’d come to embrace electrified blues, entered the room and asked, “Who is that playing guitar?”
“That’s Dickey Betts and Duane Allman,” I answered.
She listened a bit more. “Wow, they’re good.”
Yes, they were good.
But the song hooked in the morning mental music stream (Trademark sliding) is a better-known Allman Brothers tune. This is “Ramblin’ Man”, naturally. This live version from 1972 has Dickey on vocals and lead guitar. He wrote the song, as well. Dickey Betts, 1943 – 2024.
Be strong and lean forward. Vote Blue in 2024. Fresh coffee is flowing. Mine is black and sugar-free. Best way to imbibe it. Here’s the video. Cheers
The shorts went on. Officially, they’re ‘short pants’.
This is Wednesday, April 10, 2024. 66 F now, the warm end of our day will rise to 71 F. Everything is in bloom under blue, sunny skies. It’s bold with yellows, pinks, and white blossoms and blooms, people, against a fully backdrop of green grasses and trees — along with
Things are going well for me, thanks. A woman at the coffee shop told me, “You have nice legs. If I had legs like that, I’d be in shorts, too.”
She appeared a few years younger than me and had a perfect stage voice. I’m not one who enjoys attention. Baby, I was cringing inside. But I smiled and thanked her. She responded, “Wow, you have a great smile, too.” I felt like everyone was looking by now. I thanked her again, and she waved and went on.
Back ‘home’, Mom was discharged from Forbes Hospital after treatment for appendicitis. A day and night of diarrhea was endured. Now, after being up all night in pain, she’s back at the hospital for a CT scan to see why she has pain and a fever.
My sister, G, is on the scene, waiting for news. It’s a business day at the hospital. Parking is full. The parking situation and emergency responsiveness are hampered by a sinkhole in the parking lot.
A social worker came out and spoke with sis. No beds are available for Mom and they’re proposing to scan her at another location. Now they’re suggesting, take her home and bring her back tomorrow.
WTF questions arise. Sis is dealing with it. She’s intelligent, competent, and hard-edged at times like this, unafraid to question authority, and willing to stand her ground. In other words, she’s a good person to have on site.
I was thinking about my aunt J. She’s the one I previously wrote about with colon cancer.
I always admired her and enjoy her company. She always spoke to me like I was an adult when I was a child. I think she was instrumental in teaching me to think about matters from different perspectives. That’s a quality that I’ve often depended on, and which is responsible for whatever successes and achievements I’ve had. Good to have people like her in one’s life.
I didn’t learn about all her issues. She married and was divorced when young. One child. Then, another child from an affair. That child, my cousin, was put into an orphanage until my aunt could get her life in order. She finally met and married the love of her life, as she described him, and had three more children. She and I were together until brain cancer took him about a decade ago.
Update from sis about Mom. Fever is gone. Mom is in a bed in a hallway. Awaiting further developments.
Tucker goes back to the vet this afternoon. It’s a checkup on his thyroid, high blood pressure, and his gums after having his teeth removed. Fingers crossed that my old friend is found to be healing well and his issues under control. He’s gained weight, energy, and enthusiasm over the last few days.
Two thirds of the way through reading Kings of the Wyld. High fantasy variation, and worth reading if fantasy speaks to you. An interesting spin is that adventurers are ‘bands’, much like rock bands, and treated like rock stars. We readers are in on the idea but it’s not heavy handed. Our protagonist band broke up years before and have aged into normal lives. Now, yes, they got the band back together to save one of their daughters. I highly recommend this Nicholas Eames novel, even though I’ve not finished it. Still have about one hundred fifty pages left. My wife read it first, and then urged me to read it.
Today’s music comes straight out of 1966. After reading a Heather Richardson post, I thought, tell it like it is. One of our nation’s political problems IMO is that politicians on the right lie to their supporters, and the media goes along with it for the most part. Some journalists are beginning to seriously hipcheck some of the liars but too many get a free ride. I can provide substantial examples, if you need it.
Anyway, overhearing my thinking about Ms. Richardson’s post, The Neurons began playing Aaron Neville and “Tell It Like It Is” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark burning). A beautiful torch song, it’s a good song when you’re at a fork in the road, looking back on what’s happened while gazing ahead, trying to divine a path forward.
Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue this November. I’ll be doing the same. Now, riding on wings of coffee, I’m off to continue writing and editing.
Michael Seidel, writer 