Wednesday’s Theme Music
Delicious weather in Ashlandia today. Spring at its best. 67 F at the mo, 75% humidity. 88 F expected later, and thunderstorms. Yesterday was delightful, too, relaxing, comforting, an invitation to sit and enjoy yourself for a while. It’s so floofriendly. Tucker has settled but open doors and happy weather invites Papi to prance in and out. He steals up to me, stares up, gets an ear rub from moi, then dashes out, only to return. Sometimes I chase and hide, which he loves doing.
The election is over. We await the outcome. 15-214, which absorbed our attention and discussion, is predictably tight but votes are still being counted.
Today’s music fell into my lap. I’d been sent a video link about tiny computers a teacher was asking my beer group to buy for their class. This video was off to the right. “Two of Us” from 1969 is by the Beatles. The song is pretty lazy but I enjoyed the footage of the lads from Liverpool and others laughing, joking, talking. Nostalgia caught The Neurons, so here we are.
And the coffee has arrived to great cheering from the body and its various elements. Most vociferous cheering is heard from the brain, where neurons are stamping their feet, chanting, “Coffee, coffee, coffee.” The foot stamping is off-putting to the ears, who are gesturing with annoyance at the brain. But in general, it’s a festive air.
Stay pos. Assess, adjust, advance. Here’s the tune. Cheers
Wednesday’s Wandering Thought
We’re such individuals. Not just from one another but from what we were when we were younger.
I used to be aghast that someone didn’t like chocolate. Or ‘don’t care for sweets’. Dad is one of those.
I could understand why people didn’t like coffee, beer, or alcohol generally, between flavors and effects. Now I see, as I age, how my taste buds and preferences have morphed through my decades. I still enjoy chocolate, beer, coffee, etc., but things taste sweeter or saltier to me.
Life. Takes so long to learn and understand, and then things change.
Sunday’s Theme Music
Hearing the pursuit, we ran hard. “In here,” Pretzel shouted on my left. I twisted, planted my foot and made the cut, following him into a small path.
We crowded in panting like the sprinters we’d been. “What is this?” Maylie asked.
“I think it’s a time machine,” C-Jean said.
Don’t know about the rest but I did a mental, oh shit. “Don’t touch anything. We got to get out of here.”
“Oops,” Pharslei said.
The machine vibrated for two seconds. Ping, it said, like we were a done nuked meal.
“Where are we?” Maylie asked.
“Not where,” Pretzel said. “When. Time machine, itz. When are we?”
Sunday, April 23, 2016, it said. “Shit,” someone said.
The numbers blinked. April 20, 1623. Still Sunday. “I’m going to go see,” Pretzel announced.
“No,” I said, “Hold up.” That was the last I saw of him, though, going out that door.
Last I saw of any of them. Machine now said, April 16, 2023.
I left the booth. It vanished behind me. Tepid sunshine washed my face. Mostly I saw cloud layering like stacked grays. Still seemed like Ashlandia’s green deep valley, at least.
The Neurons have filled the morning mental music stream with “Where Have All the Good Times Gone”. Went with the Kinks’ original song from ’65. Fit with my state of mind. Shopping this morning, it seemed like such a dirge. Everyone shopper I eyed semed to be thinking, “I wish I was anywhere else.” Shopping has never been a leisure pursuit for me but it kicked my thinking down a memory path which lodged up against the question, where have all the good times gone? Follow up was, what constituted a good time?
Stay pos. I know, sometimes it’s touch. Feels like the world is on your shoulders, and it’s putting on more weight every second. Coffee helps me. Coffee; it’s what’s for breakfast.
Here’s the music. Cheers
Friday’s Theme Music
Good mornin’. It’s Friday again, March 24, 2023, for the first time, we think.
Shakers of snow have spilled in several places. Tiny flakes laze from a pewter sky. Sun arrived a while again but the clouds have the numbers. 34 F now, the weather lizards explained with great showmanship it will reach 44 F.
Snow earned the cats’ disapproval. Tucker ate and found a warm space. Papi checked the front, back, front, back, front, back, front, back, and finally accepted that no comforting levels of sunshine could be found. Whiskers drooping in disapproval, he’s lounging on the sofa.
Meanwhile, I’ve retreated to the office with a cuppa coffee. With little solar energy feeding me, I needed a brew stat. Musically, The Neurons have imposed some Green Day in the morning mental music stream. I’m listening to “Holiday” (2005). Written in the aftermath of 9/11 and the retaliatory war started by Dubya’s administration, the songwriter was pissed and let fly his feelings. I shared them, because we were warned about WMD even though just months before, Colin Powell was reassuring us they weren’t there. Cheney had a different feel for it and added by Curveball, pushed for the war. They said it was gonna be a cake walk. Said it would pay for itself. Sure. Yeah, it was all dressed up very pretty in patriotism and UN resolutions, but it never made sense. Still does not.
Here’s the music. I wish you all a happy Friday. Stay pos. Cheers
Tuesday’s Theme Music
“I love the way the Earth turns. It makes my day.” Read on Facebook. Should be a bumper sticker.
Makes my night, too. I awoke at six, before dawn. Looking out the window found a gray day staring back. Oh, no, says I after releasing a cat to the outside for recon, and tossed myself back under the bed covers with the other cat, who was quite happy with this change of plans. An hour and half later, after sunrise at 7:13, I returned from sleep to find a buttery sunshine spread across the room. Cool beans.
It’s Tuesday, March 21, 2023. Sunset will be at 7:24 PM. While it was 30 when I got up at six, it’s now 42 F, and the weather oracles say it’ll be 59 F before the day’s end. Some light gray powders the blue sky, not yet substantial enough to be dubbed clouds, but we’ll see what develops.
I decided to make my coffee and breakfast at the same time. Coffee came first, as I was having oatmeal and following the alphabet — c before o except in ocean. I almost put my oats into my hot coffee. Wouldn’t’ve been bad. I’ve done that while in the military, appalling many others. They accused me of being weird, but none of them ever tried oatmeal made with coffee, so I chastened them as closed-minded. Didn’t want it today, however, because I planned for coffee-sipping while cruising the net.
Today’s music is a punk favorite by the Ramones, “Blitzkrieg Bop” from 1976. Rousing and enthusiastic, it’s great for when you’ve already had some coffee and are ready to get on with things. It just happens, that describes me this morning.
Coffee drunk. Stay pos, and seize Tuesday as your own. Hope I don’t inspire any maniacal behavior with that. I worry about some nut plotting to off another reading my encouragement to do something and nodding to herself and saying, “Okay, let me go kill that bitch, Mary, and put that hair of hers out of misery.” Doesn’t someone have a high opinion of themself?” Yeah, that would be me.
Here’s the music. Cheers
Sacrifice
She brought me a small white plate.
Two dark pieces nestle on it. I stare at them, then shift the stare to her.
I had been smelling them since I came into the house after my coffee house writing session. Chocolate.
K is on a diet. Today is day 30. She is allowed to add one thing today. She added vegan honey to her breakfast amaranth. Now she waits three days to see if there’s a reaction. If a reaction — pain, a flare, stiffness — is experienced, that item is banned from her diet. Forever. Then she resets for a few days and adds another item. If no reaction is felt, she adds another item and waits three days. So it goes.
This means that she can’t eat what’s on the plate.
She’s hosting book club next month. The moderator opted for something lighter for March. Lessons in Chemistry. Bonnie Garmus. Kay is making vegan brownies studded with chocolate chips. These are vegan chips from Trader Joe’s. Vegan butter was used. This is a test batch. A Ghirardelli mix was used.
“Taste these,” she tells me. “Tell me what you think.”
She can’t have them. Diet. Two of the Ashlandians in the book club are vegan.
I force myself to eat a chewy, gooey vegan brownie.
“Wonderful chocolate taste. Not too sweet. Greasy,” I announce. That makes sense to her. There was something about the vegan butter melting and then measuring it again. She didn’t do that. “And they’re not done enough.”
“Five more minutes?”
“Maybe just three.”
She nods. She’ll make another test batch this week.
They go great with black coffee on a winting Ashlandia afternoon. An entire tray waits for me in the kitchen.
I’ll need to pace myself or it might be death by chocolate.
Sunday’s Wandering Thought
C is for Coffee.
O is for I’ll tell you the rest after I drink my coffee.
Wednesday’s Wandering Thought
Coffee, a comfortable coffee house, sunshine through the window, and something to write. How could a day be more pleasant for him?
Michael Seidel, writer 