Tag: coffee

Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood: Sunlow (Sunday mellow)

This is Sunday, January 7, 2024. It was a wintry day this morning after a 24 hours of competing precipitation. We cycled through various snow forms, slush, and pellets with fog smearing the background optics. The sun would prairie dog in to see what was happening on the ground but the air stayed chill. Looking out and seeing the situation, my wife said, “It’s good to be retired.”

Today brought us light snow in some places layered over 32 F air temp. My partner had a birthday party to attend. I’d been excused to do my thing but that plan collapsed when she saw the roads and asked if I’d go to the party. You know, so I could drive. Thus is why I’m posting late.

Good party, and worth attending, a friend, Barb, celebrating number 80. She did it right with champagne and mimosas and tables starting to splinter under the weight of food. While Barb made most, people also brought food (my wife took her five minute almond tarts, an Ashlandia favorite). (Ashlandia, where the food is above average.) To complement those food offerings, Barb also hired a crepe truck. We had choices of caprese, lemon, cinammon, or chocolate crepes made to order. With a house packed full with friends, and people coming and going from ten AM until the planned end, seven PM, how could you not but have a good time?

I went walking yesterday afternoon, enjoying the wintry ambiance. Reminded me of young years in the places where I lived where climate invited snow and ice on a regular basis — Ohio, Iowa, Pennsylvania, Virginia, Illinois, West Virginia. Breathing in cold air, same cold air scolding my skin, a little dribble out of my nostrils. Snow changes sound and light. When you’re out there alone, a sense of isolation descends. I could hear my breathing, feel my heartbeat, and entertained new thinking.

The Neurons unleashed “Good Feeling” into the mental music stream, and it carried over into today’s morning mental music stream (Trademark frozen). “Good Feeling” is by Flo Rida and was released waaayyy back in 2011. It’s good music for me for today because despite what reality might push into my face, I remain optmistic and I have a feeling things will get better. Fingers crossed. Knock on wood.

Before I close, I want to offer this for reflection: the ‘sound’ of the solar wind. Because everything isn’t about the privilge and deprivation of this world’s people. There’s something out there beyond ourselves. This ‘sound’ comes to us unnoticed every second of every minute, hour, day, month, year. Pausing to consider it offers perspective that existence is more than this planet and what we see and hear. Yes, many reply, but this is our home, and the only place where we are — well, as far as we know with our limited understanding.

Stay pos, be real, be strong, and lean forward. Coffee has been served; hurry before it runs out. Here’s the music. Feel free to sing along and rap along. Cheers
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Saturday’s Theme Music

Mood: coffeefied

It’s a showery and sunny blue and white marble sky day on December 30, 2023, in Ashlandia, where the coffee houses are busy and the offerings are above average. 46 F now, we’re edging toward a 54 F high on this early winter day. Many of us have mild colds with hay fever overtones. Most wonder if it’s something worse as COVID reports are up in town.

I read much news each day. I think one of the wildest and saddest stories read this morning was of a Texas teen who shot two other teenagers in his home. Shooting them in the head after showing them a revolver, one was killed and the other was severely injured. A third teen, safe in the bathroom, called the police, reporting he’d heard two gunshots.

Most traumatic to me was that first, the seventeen-year-old stated he’d wanted to commit homicide for a long time, and had thought of shooting himself, and allegedly had cajoled his mother into buying him the weapon, although the family attorney denied the mother bought her son the gun. Let’s pause to think of what she’ll be going through now and for the rest of her life, regardless of her role.

Secondly, though, after he’d killed, he walked around the house crying, asking himself, “What have I done?” In some ways, he reminds of Kyle Rittenhouser, a killer who had little understanding of what killing another fully means. In that sense, I mean, do they understand that the other person will never get up again? Do they comprehend the legal and moral implications? Do they understand what they’ll do to their own psyche once they’ve killed? I think that a lot of this is lost in a culture where killing is often glamorized.

Today’s music was brought to my morning mental music stream (Trademark flushed) by Tucker. Tucker is my mixed long/short-haired black and white big foot feline. Wildly whiskered with a thick tail, he was constantly following me around yesterday and today. He frequently does this but it was a more intense session. I asked him the usual about his health, if he was hungry, and what he wanted and needed. And I petted, scratched, and brushed him, allowing him lap top while I was reading and net surfing, but nothing seemed to satisfy the boy. He’d eaten well and had his usual bowel movement (trust me on that), so those things didn’t seem issues. And he’d used his scratch pad quite vigorously, and then galloped around the house, so he had plenty o’ energy. After noting he was following me everywhere, The Neurons began “Everywhere” by Fleetwood Mac from 1987.

Stay positive, test negative, lean forward, and be strong. Now coffee up! It’s Saturday. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Coffee Powr

I’m a retired military veteran and over sixty-five years old. That combo means my health insurance is through a hybrid product that requires me to sign up for Medicare A & B when I turned 65. Mediacare provides primary coverage to me and my wife; TriCare for Life (TFL, officially known on the web as TriCare4Life) gives us secondary coverage. It’s not a bad deal. It isn’t free; my wife and I both pay for Part B.

What made my coffee taste more bitter than usual was a bill from my provider received this month. They said I owed them over a hundred dollars for lab work and that TFL hadn’t paid anything. Egged on by my other, that sent me into a tizzy of indignation. A website I found said, yep, TFL doesn’t pay for preventive lab work. This made no friggin’ sense and only urged me to greater outrage.

I logged into the various systems this week to find answers. Not finding satisfaction there, I was forced to *gag* call them and speak to people. I have nothing against people or talking but I dislike phones and bureaucracies. Girding myself with a mug of stout dark goodness, I called T4L. After providing evidence of who I am and waiting a few minutes, I was connected to Derek.

I explained it all to him and proved who I am to him. Derek began ferreting through the systems for more about my grievance. I logged into my provider portal and dug out more details. Shame on me, but only then did I realize that this bill was for services from May of 2022. That just seemed wild that I’m dealing with that over eighteen months later.

Derek looked into it and discovered that T4L didn’t pay it because Asante, who did the work, didn’t send an EOB for the Medicare part that was paid. “Have more coffee and call the provider,” Derek advised.

Thanking him for his assistance and wishing him a good day and Merry New Year, I did so. After providing evidence about who I am and a short wait, Karen heard my tale. “Interesting,” she said. “We show that T4L denied the claim.”

What?

She went on to tell me it’d been rejected three times and that’s why they were now billing me. “Let me contact the insurance section and confirm they sent the needed EOB,” she went on. “I’m going to email them now.” She typed away while I listened to keyboard clickety-clack. “There,” she said. “Now we’ll see what happens. Your bill is due next week but ignore that. If you get another bill or notice asking for payment, give us a call to check on the status, okay?”

Sure. I thanked Karen, wished her good day and Happy New Year, hung up and wrote up my notes. Now I wait, but I feel optimistic about the outcome. The whole thing only took one hour.

I couldn’t have done it without coffee, though.

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Thurdsay’s Theme Music

Mood: flexible

Thursday, December 28, 2023. Winter remains encamped outside our door, but it’s a skeleton force. Sunshine floods the valley’s narrow eastern edge. Clouds flattened out in thick swatches of blues, grays, and white. We mostly endure some low temperature nights, fog, and rain. Still no snow on the valley floor and little snow on our light brown mountains. The southern firs and pines are spring green. Right now, we’re cresting 49 F on our way to a 54 F high.

2023 is trickling to an end after a reign that’s lasted almost a year. Many are wondering, will 2023 allow a peaceful and traditional year-to-year transfer? Talking heads and keyboard scholars are all talking about what’ll happen if 2023 doesn’t let go of the reins and decides that it’ll remain 2023 and deny 2024 its place. Can there still be an election next year if it’s still 2023, for example? How will the economy be tracked and what will this do to historic records, awards shows, the NFL championship, and other important matters, including copyright dates?

Likewise, we — that’s me and the lint in my pocket — worry about the 2024 POTUS election. What if President Biden loses and decides not to relinquish the office? His decisions might be guided by what’s happening in the courts now with former POTUS Trump. If the judicial branch decides the former POTUS can’t be tried for offenses done while in office even if it has nothing to do with his duties, even if they are illegal, then a new precedent is born for Joe Biden to use to remain in office and contest the results. This will result in Republican claims contrary to their previous claims, because that’s business as usual: one set of standards for others, another for themselves.

Speaking of double standards, what’s going on with that Republican couple in Florida, Christian and Bridget Ziegler? You know them, pushers of moral values, all in for one man-one woman traditional marriages, solid proponents for banning books that contradict their sensibilities, and a strong set against lesbians and homosexuals, except for their own sex life when they enjoy a little female on female action, which they taped. But that’s private, right? Except he’s been accused of rape, and that’s criminal, right?

Since my mind is in Florida, did you see that their high school SAT scores fell again? They’re now ranked 46th in the nation. Sadly, ACT and SAT scores continue on a downward spiral across the nation. I wonder if that’s related to red state (and county) legislatures limiting what children can be taught and read? Just spitballing, ya know?

In the morning mental music stream (Trademark corny), The Neurons have the Indigo Girls singing “Galileo” from 1992. See, I was making the bed and thinking about getting things right, or somewhere in the area code of right. This wasn’t about the bed and was only obliquely about me. No, the mental catalyst was the ongoing relationship problems I watch playing out in a family. The daughters are my age and the matriarch I think is twenty to twenty-five years older. That’d put her in late 80s, early 90s. Yet, they’re experiencing the same relationship merry-go-round they were on twenty years ago. The natural question arrived on my brain’s doorstep, will they ever get it right? The connection to “Galileo” comes from the song’s line, “How long till my soul gets it right?”

Stay positive and be strong, test negative, but lean forward. Easy, right? Coffee helps lube the way for my attempts. Here we go with the video. Cheers

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Saturday’s Wandering Thoughts

I was in my primary coffee shop yesterday, writing away in a corner and deeply involved with what I was doing. Even with that true, I’d followed who arrived and left, where they were and what they were doing. It was a habit or talent I’d developed while young. It’d become bolstered first by military counter-terrorist training and situational awareness, and then fostered more as I leaned in to writing fiction and honed my observational skills.

Left was a man who seemed about five years older than me, putting him in his early seventies. He was a regular at both of my coffee haunts. Striking me as a lonely person, I’d witnessed him start conversations with others. When I overheard them, the topic was usually novels he’d read or novels the other was reading.

Rising from the chair he’d settled into, he approached the early twentyish woman on my right. Another regular but not as frequent as me, she was familiar to me. I’d seen the other man talk to her a few times. He greeted her as a friend and she reacted in kind. They began talking about books and his recent visit to a bookstore.

The coffee house manager went to them. I didn’t hear what was being said, but it ended with her escorting him out. After he was gone, I saw the shift lead go talk to the manager. Again, nothing was heard. The shift lead returned to her spot behind the counter, and then the manager approached the young woman the man had been talking with.

After giving her name and explaining her position, the manager asked, “Do you know that man?”

“No, not really. He’s spoken to me before.”

“Well, I came over because we’ve had complaints about men approaching young women such as yourself without being invited. Some feel threatened and believe that the man was trying to groom them or other young women, so we felt we needed to act.”

The woman thanked her and the manager went away.

I sat, reflecting on all sides of this, wondering exactly what was true and real, respecting the coffee shop’s position but understanding the man’s loneliness. Yet, I didn’t know if he was grooming. I don’t know his intentions. And then, there are other men who may have approached young females to groom them. It can be an insidious world.

I mentioned it all to my wife, who reminded me, “Woman are often socialized to be friendly when a man approaches. It’s hard for them to say no to them or rebuff them. That’s just how we’re still taught through movies and television shows, and the things we see. Men are in power and are to be respected is what we’re taught, and it’s hard to break the habits that come from that training.

I understand that, too, and thought of my own position when I go into the coffee shop to write. I’m friendly with staff but not other customers. While I want to be friendly with others, my natural inclination, I decided that I need to not be friendly with other regulars; I’m there to write, and the time that I’ve carved out for that is precious. Despite observing so many who seem desperate or hungry for social interations, I do so with regret but remain firm about it.

We’ve followed long and tortured paths to come to these moments of who we are.

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The Writing Moment

The writing center — known by everyone other than him as a cofffee shop — had a full parking lot. With past experience as a guide, he thought that getting a prime writing table* wouldn’t be possible. Head for number two, he ordered his brain, which delivered the message to his body, which set his car on the required course.

Coffee shop number two was packed. He selected a tertiary choice location with plans to move to a better spot when one opened, and joined the short line to acquire the necessary hot and dark magic water that helped stimulate his writing efforts. As he stood there, movement flickered in his eyes’ left periphery. Leaning a little, he confirmed, people were leaving a prime space. Hustling followed as he relocated his gear and thanked the coffee gods.

The place, he realized as he picked up his coffee, was packed. Every table, prime or not, was in use. Both conversation pits were filled, and almost all the window bar seats were engaged. Five baristas in black outfits worked in mechanical precision behind the wood-encased retail island to restock food and dishware, prepare orders, take, or deliver them. About fifty people filled the small business.

The place’s warm hum keyed his sentimental side. Such a friendly, happening scene. While a few patrons were like him, solitary animals focused on keyboards, staring at phones, or reading books, most people were chatting and laughing in twos and threes as they ate breakfast sandwiches and pastries and sipped coffee drinks, chai, or tea. The scene made his heart swell three times its normal size.

Then he sipped his coffee twice — once to sample it, the second time to more fully appreciate its warm, bitter flavor, put his head down and started typing. An hour later, he looked up and smiled as he gazed across the quiet, almost empty place. Music unheard over the previous rattle and hum was audible. The baristas were reduced to two, and plenty of seats and tables were available. Take your pick.

How quickly things could change.

*The prime writing space is a table or counter with space for a laptop, mouse, and coffee, a chair, and an outlet, and is located two to three feet away from others for privacy and isolation.

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: under baked

It’s foggy in Ashlandia again. Fog closed in on our fair town, where the mountains are low and the valley is narrow, yesterday afternoon. The for went away for the night and returned this morning, along with a doughnut sprinkle of rain that’s expected to keep up intermittently for the day. It’s all part of the season called aunter, which falls in the last third of fall, bringing dampness, dark days, and cold air, and winter, when the snow is summoned.

But look out. It’s 45 F now but we’re gonna get warmer, even broaching the sixties, maybe, they say, maybe getting as warm as 66F. Not bad for a aunter day.

This is Wednesday, December 26, 2023.

I was in a Dollar Store with my wife yesterday. She’s planning a holiday gift for her exercise class instructor. My spouse has been going to this class since 2005. The instructor is 78 and has been telling people what to do to music since the early 1980s. She’s quite popular. My wife became friends with her over exercising and books. My wife and two others, who were then known as the Woo-Woo girls, started talking about books they were reading as they warmed up before class. Soon the instructor joined, and then a few others, giving rise to the Ladies’ Most Excellent Book Club, which became the book club. They limit it by vote to ten people, and they’re serious readers. We’ll be going to the instructors’ house for a traditional Swedish smorgasborg later this month.

Anyway, as part of the holidays, my wife has started a new tradition of collecting money and signing a card for the instructor. The instructor rarely keeps the money, either donating it to families who need it, or to local causes with the food bank. My wife likes going to the Dollar Store for supplies. It might be a Dollar Tree store; I don’t pay attention. I know they’re no longer a store where things are a dollar or less. But yesterday surprised me.

The dollar store has restaurant and big box store gift cards, along with iTunes gift cards. Many were for $25 or $50. I didn’t bother asking the busy staff it the cards sold for a dollar. They’ve probably heard that joke, and nothing on that end cap display said, “Olive Garden $50 Gift Card: One Dollar”.

It’s just more evolution for the dollar store trio who combined into one business entity a few years ago. I remember first going to one of them thirty years ago after moving back to the United States. I was like, everything in the store is for sale for a dollar? Why, yes, that was exactly the premise: a dollar or less. Being in the military, not getting paid much, and liking a bargain, we went frequently to the Dollar Tree or Dollar Store to get household cleaning supplies, notebooks and paper supplies — including greeting cards — and whatever little bargains we found.

Sad that the stores have changed their philosophy, but that’s how progress works. I guess. At least we’ll someday be able to tell future generations that there used to businesses which sold things for a dollar. They’ll probably ask us, “What’s a dollar?”

An apartment building neighbors us not too far away. With the leaves out of the trees, I can see some of their upper windows from my backyard. Yesterday, I saw a cat in one of the windows. It’s not the first cat I’ve seen in the building, so it’s not that remarkable. This was a fine looking cat, young and slender-appearing, sitting erect as a statue in that graceful cat manner we so often see. White with calico spots, it was intently watching me. I wondered if the cat was lonely and I hoped that it was’t.

That tiny reflection invited The Neurons to offer a song to the mental music stream, where it continues in the morning mental music stream (Trademark nutty). “Only the Lonely” by The Motels, not to be confused with “Only the Lonely” by Roy Orbison, came out in 1982. So it’s for that cat and the other floofs alone and watching that this song is offered as Wednesday’s theme music.

Stay pos and strong, and lean in. Coffee has arrived at the brain center, exciting The Neurons. Here we go, off to start the day. And here’s the music. Cheers

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A Fine List

Thankfulness A-Z

Jill made a great list of things which she is thankful for. I didn’t change it, but I’d add some personal names under the letters: Keri, Dee, Frank, Lisa, Gina, Pat, Amy, Sharon, Debby, Jonathan, Jessica, Cynthia, David, Andrea, Michael, Barb, Jon, Becky, Brenden, Landon, Colten, Lauren, Audrey, Rhea, Matt, Vince, and many other nieces and nephews. Beer was added under B, and wine is found under W. Knowledge is added to k, and L is amended with learning.

Oh, yeah, you’ll find pizza and pie under P. Can’t forget them, along with writing. You know where it goes.

Happy Thanksgiving.

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: lightly festive

With Tuesday, November 21, 2023, here in Ashlandia, where the restaurants are good and the service is above average, we have another weather shift. 58 F, the sun is shining like summer now as late morning rotates through. We’re expecting highs in the low to mid-sixties today. Only problem is the air stagnation advisory. It ends this evening today but we’ve honestly been little affected by it in our valley this time, knock wood.

Les Neurons are messing with me again. Experiencing sound sleep and multiple dreams last night, I was remembering the latter this morning while putzing through the breakfast routine of feeding the cats and making my breakfast when The Neurons delivered a song to the morning mental music stream (Trademark dated).

I’m detouring here to mention that feeding the cats breakfast includes giving Tucker his hip and joint supplement. He’s an elderly cat now, with a few teeth gone after dealing with gingivostomatitis most of his life. When he first arrived on our porch, hungry, matted, and crying, he had serious mouth infections. We had those treated and some teeth removed and have since kept him on a grain-free diet, which works well in keeping the gingivostomatitis at bay.

But now, being older, he’s stiff with arthritis. His supplement helps, lubricating his movement, stimulating his appetite, and increasing his energy levels, but he doesn’t have the teeth to chew it right, so he often tries and then leaves the wet chew on the floor. So, to give it to him, I crumble the chew into boiling water and mix it with his morning and evening wet food, and he’s lapped it down.

Now, I don’t know if you know cats, but many of them want whatever the other is having. I’ve caught Papi, who is much younger, sniffing Tucker’s treated food with interest. He’s decided he wants a little hot water mixed in with his wet food, too. His thinking, I think, is, another cat is getting it, and if it’s good enough for another cat, he deserves to get it as well. Second, hot water helps keep him hydrated, and enhances the food’s smell and flavor, right? I suppose, because he licks his bowl clean.

Anyway, as I’m doing these things this AM, The Neurons begin playing “Young Folks” by Peter Bjorn and John with Victoria Bergsman from 2006 in the morning mental music stream. I’m not privy to why The Neurons brought that song up. They often don’t share with me, treating my requests with disdain. Maybe they just remembered the whistling or the voices or the song’s message and lyrics, and thought this a good day to hear it again. Honestly, I don’t know, but it’s earned its place as today’s theme music.

Stay positive, be strong, and lean forward with growing optimism that we’ll get over the Trump threat and everything he does to encourage others to come forward as hateful, hypocritical, racist, sexist, homophobic, warmongering, privilege-seeking neanderthals. My coffee is going down smooth and tasty. Think I’ll have some more.

Here’s the music. Cheers

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: committed

Thursday, October 19, 2023, slid into its slot. Indian summer has re-commenced in Ashlandia, where the battles over how to help the homeless still rage.

With a sky full of sunshine and a wind full of promise, it’s 72 F right now. Forecasters assure us that our temperature will achieve the low to mid 80s today, a solid complement to the blue sky and fall foliage.

Had a stray cat encounter at home last night. I saw something wink past the front door windows. Investigation was demanded.

I opened the portal to see. In trotted a white and gray cat. An orange splash marked their back like an island in that white sea while its thick, bushy white tail waved like a friendly neighbor.

The cat seemed healthy and friendly. Without a mew, it worked through the house, exploring everything. Some nibbles of kibble were taken. A lengthy investigation of the kitty litter zone followed.

We were concerned. Was this cat lost or cast off? I’d never seen the cat in our neighborhood. That’s limited in how meaningful that is, because I have a limited view of the street and general area. It’s also possible that the cat lived in one of the nearby residences and never got out, but now had, and was confused.

Anyway, we couldn’t keep them. Our male cats barely tolerate one another. They never tolerate any outside cats. The sole exception to that was the late Pepper. A dark tortie, she carried herself with a majesty that asserted royal privilege. She also didn’t hesitate to hiss and swat, should any other feline venture too close. Pepper seemed to make peace with all, eventually; I used to find her and Tucker sleeping side by side on the front porch. I’ve never seen Tucker do that with another floof.

It’s odd to me that Tucker and Papi don’t get along. After all, they actually co-existed with three other cats for several years. When Tucker came, Scheckter was approaching the Rainbow Bridge. We still had Lady and Quinn. Sweet Boo, an onyx shorthair with a white star on his chest, then came along, a stray in need. I searched for his home and people without success, so he joined as a stray in residence.

Papi next joined, and that’s how the family stood for a while until Lady, Quinn, and Boo were each taken. So, I thought that Papi and Tucker were okay and even hoped that they would become friendlier.

Well, flooftente was achieved but they still issue threats and warnings to each other. Happened just the day before yesterday; Papi stepped up behind Tucker and leisurely sniffed over Tucker’s tail and rear. Tucker turned to reciprocate, sending Papi into a yowling, hissing frenzy, like, “Oh, no, he’s going to sniff me.”

So the sweet stray couldn’t be put up. We did set up a bed for them on the front porch and fed it again. The food needed to be brought in because outside pet food invites other creatures: skunks, raccoons, coyotes, foxes. The smell of food might attract one of the bears or cougars who roam our neighborhood. So, very, very reluctantly, we let the cat stay out, hating it all the way.

I posted about the cat on social media last evening but haven’t had a response. They haven’t been spied today. I hope they’re alright; I hope they’re safely home. I put food and water out for them on the front porch, in case they return, and let the boys out into the backyard.

I will also note that Papi returned from his morning patrol at about eight AM. He may have encountered the stray and chased them away. That’s Papi’s style.

While tending the stray last night, I picked up Tucker after he started after the stray. Hugging, kissing, stroking him, reassuring him that he wasn’t being replace, I told Tucker, “You need to stay calm.”

Picking up on that, The Neurons began playing Taylor Swift’s 2019 song, “You Need To Calm Down”. Without surprise, I can report that it’s continued playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark disputable). That’s how the MMMS generally works: once a song is in there, if stays until another song displaces it.

I do like the message out of “You Need to Calm Down”. The song’s message of people acting out in hate because of others’ genders when they’re not binary, or their choices of pronouns, or sexual orientation is exactly as needed. Too many people — many who seem to be right-wing — have gone over the top in their need and eagerness to deny others the freedom and right to be who they are. Right-wingers blast anyone who is not cisgender with surreal claims about how children are prey, or how the emergence of people who identify themselves under the umbrella of LGBTQ+ are destroying the world.

Witness, as a prominent example, Florida, led by Ron Desantis, and their absurd “Don’t Say Gay” law.

‘The bill’s sponsors have emphatically stated that the bill would not prohibit students from talking about their LGBTQ families or bar classroom discussions about LGBTQ history, including events like the 2016 deadly attack on the Pulse nightclub, a gay club in Orlando. Instead, they argue that the bill would bar the “instruction” of sexual orientation or gender identity.

‘But the text says both.’

Stay pos, be strong, and remain calm. I’m having coffee, which should sustain my efforts to do the same. Here’s the music. Carpe Thursday. Cheers

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