Tag: flooding

Saturday’s Theme Music

Mood: soursmokeworn

Day has broken, smoky and sunny in Ashlandia, where the temperatur is 69 F. The smoke isn’t ours; it’s from one of the many fires burning in California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, or Canada. Or maybe somewhere else. Or all of them. While the election rushes on, the world turns, the heat increases, the planet dries, and catches fire. While the Olympics parade across our screens, typhoons, hurricanes, and storms take death and destruction to new levels. What isn’t on fire might be flooding, like down in Florida. Just take some time to check out the many ‘natural disasters’ that we’re either recovering from or enduring right now.

It’s Saturday, July 27, 2024. Too late to wake up. It’ll be 89 F in Ashlandia today, not too bad, so long as we don’t drive too far away.

Don’t know what was happening before the moment today when the jay flew in through the bedroom’s open sliding door. The bird landed on the stepping machine and let out a screech. Papi the ginger wonder bounded in after the bird, jumping up onto the bed and orienting to acquire the target. We have a vaulted ceiling in that room so the bird flew across first to the idle fan, perching on a blade, and then to an air vent embedded in the ceiling. Striped ginger tail wildly lashing, Papi leaped from bed to dresser, directly below the bird.

Meanwhile, I’d arisen and was addressing the bird, telling them that they need to get out. Closing doors to the bath and hall, I pushed the slider to its max. Taking the hint, the jay shot out. Papi shot out after it.

I looked out. It was a happy ending with the bird in a tree scolding Papi, and Papi returning to tell me good morning.

Well, with all these fires going on in the news and Trump’s campaign burning like a housefire as GOPers toss fuel on in, and Kamala Harris catching fire with voters and groups, The Neurons pulled up an old song about fire. Called “Sleep Now in the Fire”, the song is burning up my morning mental music stream (Trademark aflame). The 1999 song is about this little rock band called Rage Against the Machine. You tell me what it’s all about.

Be strong, stay positive, lean foreward and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee and I are going at it. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Monday’s Theme Music

Mood: summerpositive

The cats and I agree, it’s a strong sun today, biting my skin with its heat, blinding my eyes (yes, what else would it be blinding — my ears?) with its light. Not supposed to be hot today, just 87 F, and it’s just 67 F now. This is Monday, Jun 24, 2024.

The cats are pratically living in the backyard, slumbering beneath bushes or stretched out, floof-napping in green patches of lawn. They come in to visit me, get fed, and use the litter box, and then dash back out. Reminds me of being a young child in the summers, doing the same with Mom. Except I didn’t use a litter box. Not in those days.

I jest, of course! Spoke with Dad yesterday. He’s down. They — the omniscient they here is the medical staff — are pushing for the dialysis port, and he doesn’t want to go through with that. He seems fazed by the surgery and claims he doesn’t want to be a burden on people, as others would need to drive him to his appointments several times a week. I’m sure he will go through with the procedure but he needs to work himself up to it. I called him this morning to chat with him but reached his voice mail. I need to call Mom to catch her up on that news. Never did call her yesterday.

Terrible flooding in the midwest. Iowa was severely hit. Evacuations were ordered and bridges collapsed. I remember flying over the plains states decades ago. The floating and the heat dome are connected events. Hope the climate doesn’t get any worse or the nation and its citizens might start getting worried. Yeah, that’s snark, baby.

My spouse picked up a nice Charles Wysocki jigsaw puzzle at Ashlandia’s library of things yesterday. I thought we should have some on hand for more Internet outages. We began the puzzle last night, even though the net didn’t go out. Lovely little beach scene featuring an old house where a high school kite flying club meets. Kites lean against an old fence in the sand and a heart shaped balloon, tethered to the gate, floats above the scene, red against a cloudy blue and white backdrop. A few sailboats skim choppy waters in the background. I can almost smell that ocean.

Other than these matters and the standard form of our days of eating, cleaning, writing, reading, it’s quiet. I accept quiet. Still recuperating with my ankle issue.

Today’s music comes by way of Willy Nelson. I was reading about his show cancellations and the article reminded me of a gay cowboy song Willy sings. The Neurons immediately began a little rendition of the song, “Cowboys Are Frequently Fond of Each Other”, in the morning mental music stream (Trademark grazing). Although Willy’s version came out back when Brokeback Mountain was gaining Oscar attention, I picked up a later version done by Willy and Orville Peck. Hope you enjoy it.

Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Also brace yourself for a busy news week. With more SCOTUS news forthcoming, the end of June sending up a cloud of dust as it sprints at us, and the debates and the weather, I’m sure there will be a lot to talk about, read about, and GRRRRR about.

Coffee has been sucked down. Here we. Cheers

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Hello. It’s Wednesday, 7/12/2023. Mood: energetic

Gonna be 90 F here in Ashlandia, where the produce is fresh and the cheese is locally made organic. 66 F now — about 19 C — and you know I’m enjoying that. Trending warmer, but we are the fortunate. Looking south and east, a heat dome has settled over the land. In Arizona, wildfires rage. Their daily high temperatures have been over 110 F every day in July so far and isn’t showing signs of abating. That’s hot, friends. It’s even staying in the low 90s at night, so there is no relief. Feel for the land, people, animals.

Meanwhile, New England suffered heavy rains. Vermont experienced serious flooding. A warm, dry day is expected for them today, but more heavy rain is forecast for tomorrow.

Not feeling it? You might, if you’re in the US. That heat dome is expanding to the south and east. From Accuweather:

Temperatures to climb to extreme levels even for hottest part of US

More than 50 million Americans in the southwestern U.S. are under heat advisories or warnings as temperatures will take a run at records that have stood for nearly 50 years in some locations.

More than 50 million Americans in the southwestern United States are under heat advisories or excessive heat warnings as a blistering heat dome maintains its grip on the region. The heat will place additional stress on the energy grid, elevate the threat of wildfires and increase the risk of heat-related illnesses.

Temperatures will climb to levels unusual even for the notoriously hot region of the U.S., putting long-standing records in jeopardy. A sprawling area of high pressure that is positioned over the Southwest, known as a heat dome to meteorologists, is the culprit behind the extreme temperatures.

“This [pattern] will help to minimize the number of showers or storms and allow for intense sunshine that will help boost temperatures,” explained AccuWeather Meteorologist Andrew Johnson-Levine.

AccuWeather meteorologists say that the scorching conditions will increase heading into the weekend and even expand into parts of the Central states and Southeast by next week.

Here’s a link for your further reading.

Meanwhile, the 1966 cover of the folk song “Sloop John B” by the Beach Boys is playing in the morning mental music stream (trademark pending). I have a sense that the song was/is related to my dreams, but I can’t get through the maze to find the connections. Nevertheless, dream and sing have lifted my spirits, so I’m going with the flow.

Stay pos, and be strong. I’m going to have some coffee now. The day is on. Let us begin.

Here’s the tune. Cheers

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A Small Rant

A small rant, s’il vous plait. A first world thing. First, apologies.

Apologies to the people being denied rights for me being so upset by my ‘plight’. Apologies to women who have lost control over their bodies to male-dominated governments who arrogantly decide what is right and wrong for you because of what they decided their religion tells them, regardless of your religion or circumstances.

My apologies to those dying in wildfires, or fighting wildfires, or enduring the terrible smoke.

Of course, apologies to people still getting COVID, still dying from it, or coping with long COVID.

I’m sorry, everyone having heart attacks and strokes, or dealing with cancer, and other diseases.

Likewise, apologies to everyone still rebuilding after a hurricane or tornado flattened your domicile, or who lost their home, loved ones, and belongings in a flood or other natural disaster.

My abject condolences and sincere apologies to the LGBTQ+ community and the indignities forced upon you by people too ignorant and uncaring to give you sympathy or empathize with your situation, who instead monstrously decide to compound your problems by building bureaucratic walls and persecuting you.

I apologize for those who have governments who think material goods and wealth is more important than health, security, and welfare of their citizens.

Apologies to the victims of racism and sexism, discrimination, and hate crimes.

Apologies to the food insecure, to the homeless, to the murder victims, gun violence victims, and police brutality. Apologies to the abused children, to the mentally ill who can’t find help, to the struggling and working poor, and the refugees around the world. Apologies to the people dying in famines and wars, and apologies to those working multiple jobs just to get by. Apologies to spouses with cheating and abusive partners. Apologies to the desperate and hopeless.

I haven’t covered everyone but I’ve done what I could, apologizing to everyone who has truly serious matters to deal with. That out of the way, you wouldn’t believe how long my Microsoft update took today.

So frustrating, you know?

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Finding A Way

I just finished reading Termination Shock by Neal Stephenson. It’s a novel worth the time to read, but it will consume some days. Dealing with the geopolitics and technology associated with climate change, especially the trifecta of increasing heat, rising oceans and seas, and increasingly violent and larger storms, Stephenson puts the details to work in the novel right from the beginning: a small jet can’t land in its destination of Houston because high temperatures bring on thinner air. There’s not enough lift to sustain the small jet.

Two other interesting aspects struck me in this huge book. One was a story related to London’s mayor and the 1953 flood. After the flood, engineers came up with a solution but were stopped from implementing any changes for twenty years as political infighting took over. By the time the solution was accepted and a consensus achieved to build it, the solution was already overcome by new problems because these things — climate change, rising waters, etc. — are not static, friends.

The second intriguing, amusing, and probably prescient aspect regarded how Americans responded to rising waters and more flooding: they raised their houses and began building them on stilts. That caused a boom in the house-raising/stilt industry. And sure, you can see that, right? People in their houses on stilts, looking out windows, safe, but surrounded by water. It’s one, the sort of approach people will take, adopting a limited, short-term idea that addresses only their personal issues. Two, it’s the sort of business idea that others will eagerly seize and press, making money while they can. Greed, you know.

That second point reminds me of anti-vaxxers and COVID-19. (BTW, the world has endured several more COVID pandemics between 19 and the book’s period.) They don’t trust the government; don’t trust the vax; don’t trust the medicines. Yet, that’s where most rush to be saved while their loved ones look on and damn the government for not doing more.

Meanwhile, wealthy people in the novel, like the billionaire character, raised his Tudor-style mansion and guest houses and outbuildings, and built a mesa out of clay, high above the flood waters, so they can keep living a safe, comfortable life.

Anyway, the book offers deep ideas on the world’s vectors from where we are to where we might be. It will make you think, or at least caused that in me. Cheers

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The Pigeon Dream

It was a dystopian setting. My wife and I were in a small gray econobox, trying to make our way home. Torrential rains reduced the area to a muddy swamp. Mudslides were prevalent. Confusion ruled and more rain was coming. How to get home, where do we go? These were the things we were addressing to one another when a pigeon appeared.

I don’t recall the exact details but we concluded that this pigeon was trying to tell us how to get home. We got the pigeon into our car, along with our cat, the ginger boy, Papi. I started driving. Every now and then, my wife would tell me that the pigeon is telling us to go a certain way, or I’d look at the pigeon and say, “Look, he’s telling us to go that way.”

We reached our home parking lot. Large vehicles blocked the way. Backing, pulling forward, wrenching the steering left and right, I managed to get around them and safely to our garage. We then all went into the house with our belongings, the cat, and the pigeon. We talked about the pigeon saving us. We didn’t think we’d made it without the pigeon. My wife went to feed the pigeon when it attacked her.

She tried fighting it off and couldn’t. I chased the pigeon away. My wife was shouting, “Get rid of it, get rid of it.” Papi the ginger cat went after the pigeon. I didn’t want the cat to get the pigeon.

The cat had chased the pigeon to the front door. While I didn’t want the cat to go out, I wanted the pigeon out. I partially opened the door but as the pigeon beat its wings and pecked at the cat and the cat tried getting the bird, the door closed. Then, someone, the pigeon hooked the door’s edge with its beak and pulled the door open. I caught the cat, the pigeon escaped, and I closed the door.

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Welcome to Saturday, September 4, 2021. Here in Ashland, smoke veils a cloudy spread. We’ll probably see 80 F in our area. The sun arose at 6:39 AM. Pearlescent hues on the cats and walls. Sun fade will be at 7:40 PM. The window of daily sunshine is closing.

After a week of noisy news, my soul seems spent. People are enduring some hard times in the U.S. from coast to coast, Canada to Mexico. Fires and flooding, hurricanes and tornados. Lies and more lies. And, yeah, COVID-19. People who otherwise fasten their seat belts, go through security with shoes off, without water, passing through metal detectors, who otherwise agree that public safety and security are important now can’t wear a mask. Others remain vaccine hesitant. They have their reasons, we’re told, and shouldn’t be mean to them. Meanwhile, others still find time to be racist and cruel. Murders and abuse continue.

I sort of chuckle, though. I’m reading HIlary Mantel. The Mirror and the Light. About Thomas Cromwell and that period. England. Henry VIII. Anne Bolyn’s beheading. Henry’s other wives. Conflict with the Pope. Empires and kingdoms. Dukes and ladies. The church and the state. Wars. Among it all, the poor, the starving, the diseased. We are better off now. I think where my disappointment builds is that we could be so much better. We should be so much better. Guess I watched too much Star Trek as a child.

Muse filled my mental music stream with “Uprising” from 2009. Specific lyrics.

Another promise, another seed
Another packaged lie to keep us trapped in greed
And all the green belts wrapped around our minds
And endless red tape to keep the truth confined
(So come on)

[Chorus]
They will not force us
They will stop degrading us
They will not control us
We will be victorious

h/t to Genius.com

Anyway. Test negative. Stay positive. Wear a mask as needed. Get the vax. Please. Here’s the music. Enjoy your day. I’m gonna enjoy my coffee. Cheers

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A Multi-layered Dream

I began, with many other people, in a domed city. I was on the circular city’s perimeter. Spaced every six feet were covered holes. The covers were hard plastic. Opening one, I discovered water within them. My curiosity was satisfied.

We were aware that storms were going on beyond our city. It didn’t overly concern us. To the north, pieces of a golden city appeared just outside of our domed city. I, like others, stopped to marvel at it. Who built it? How was it built so quickly? Exquisite looking, with multiple levels, it already towered over our domed city. But more was being added. How was that possible?

I went with a handful of others to see more. When I reached our domed city’s northern exits, I could see that the city beyond was a holograph. There was no city, and it was pouring rain. I was baffled; why would anyone create an illusion like that? I wondered about motives and angles.

It dawned on me that we were being distracted from a danger to our domed city. Hurrying back, I returned to roughly where I’d been and pried one white lid from a hole. The water was higher, and churning. I realized, the water is rising. Our city was in danger of being flooded.

I needed to warn others. I started pointing out the holes to others. Directing them to take off the lids, I showed them how the water, now foaming with a faint yellowish tinge, was rising higher and higher. Meanwhile, a young man approached me with a U.S. military-style flight cap. He had a pen and wanted to write on it. I was baffled; why couldn’t he write on it? What did he want written? It was a joke, he explained. He wanted someone to write, ‘I went to command school and all I got was this hat.’

Not much of a joke to me. The hat had two stars on it, signifying it belonged to a major general. Instead of being silver, the stars were gold, however. That puzzled me; silver stars are always used on American insignia. I looked for a name inside the hat: Redmond. I recalled dealing with a Redmond. He’d been buying Dionne Warwick and Friends concert tickets.

The general himself appeared, a short and amiable guy with neat and wavy black hair. I encountered a handful of major generals in my Air Force career. This guy was more affable than any of them. I told him that I had his hat and exposed what the other wanted to do with it. The general thought that was a great joke. I talked about his Dionne Warwick tickets. He remembered wanting to go to the show but didn’t remember buying the tickets nor going. I recounted helping him look for the tickets, having the tickets delivered, and then a conversation with him about going to the concert. He vaguely remembered these things, he answered with a broad grin.

Meanwhile, water was almost boiling out of two of the holes and had become more yellow. I thought the yellowing was a serious sign of something being breached, based on a conversation I’d had with an engineer earlier. We needed to do something. Evacuate the city? Find some way to relieve the flooding? I asked the general for help. He shrugged, replying, “I can’t do anything.” I told him, “Yes, you can, you’re a general, you were a commanding officer. You know how to direct people and coordinate people.”

He said, “But I don’t know what to do.”

I replied, “I’ll tell you what to do then.”

The dream ended.

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

The rotations continue, no matter what is done, sunrise, sunfall. 5:46 AM, 8:47 PM in slice of world in southern Oregon. The revolution continues, despite what is done, carrying us through summer, speeding us toward autumn.

Today is Tuesday, July 13, 2021. Wildfires continue catching and growing. Two are contained, five more start. Smoke doesn’t fill the sky but bleaches the blue into a yellow-tinged gray haze. Fine grey granules, almost white, sprinkle cars and the land. Think of how they coat skin. Get into airways. Spread into lungs, interfering with body functions like breathing.

The smoke is a cooling shade, keeping temperatures from rising over one hundred F but unable to keep us from experiencing high nineties heat. Green has been dried out of the grasses. They turn into a sandy shade of brown.

But, you know, good news. COVID-19 vaccinations appear to be helping, where people are allowing themselves to be vaccinated. As disease variants rise, the unvaccinated and vaccinated become positive, but it’s the unvaccinated who are typically hospitalized and dying.

The other good news is that people are shedding their masks, unless they need it to deal with smoke (at least out here in the American west). Stores are opening. Restaurants. Movie theaters. One can again attend movies. Isn’t that good news? And the All-star break is underway. Good news, right? Good news.

While drought spreads in the west, places are flooding in the south and east as hurricanes and tropical storms strike. Did you see the photos of the flooded New York subway and roads? Places are also experiencing power outages. Sometimes from storms, sometimes because power is cut off due to wildfires, sometimes because the wildfires burn power lines. Melbourne, Australia is locked down again but the NFL is looking forward to full stadiums. There’s a water shortage growing in America but a housing boom is underway. The stock market has never been better, and look how that economy seems to be recovering. Also, the Emmy list has been released. That’s good news, isn’t it?

An ad on an Internet page seems it all up for me. Showing a pristine red and white Chevy Corvette from the early sixties, the ad informs me, “Jag EType” (that’s how they put it) “in any condition, nationwide.” While showing a Vette. Makes sense to me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m an optimist. Hopeful. Hell, I keep grinding away on my writing routine. Must believe some future exists for it. Which brings me to the music.

Here’s the Pretenders from 1986. They do an homage to an old television show, “The Avengers”. My wife and I quite enjoyed that series as children. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, get the vax. Cheers

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What Dreams

Two dreams gained press in my morning reflections.

The first dream placed me in an old white house. My deceased mother-in-law was there, puttering around in the kitchen, a cup of coffee in her hand, as she did in her healthier years.

Looking outside the kitchen windows, I saw fast-moving brown water had taken over the creek. As I did made coffee and looked at books, I kept an eye on the creek. The waters were rising.

It wasn’t raining but I put together that it’d heavily rained after several days of snow, and we were seeing melting run-off. I told the others about it. Nobody seemed to understand what I was talking about (a common issue in my dreams). The water was then actually three inches above the window’s bottom edge, but it only flowed past on one side. Looking out, I confirmed it was flying above the banks but staying to the banks’ formation.

I told the others, “It’s going to flood. We need to leave.” My mother-in-law said, “No, I think I’ll stay here.”

I thought it was a bad decision but it was her choice. I donned my hat, put my laptop into my backpack, and swung my pack into place. Going to a big white door to leave, I encountered a small white dog looking up at me. With a spurt of blood, its head popped off. I was horrified and struggling what had happened. The dog’s head turned and looked at me from its spot on the wooden floor, and then the head and body re-attached. Tongue lolling, the dog stood, looked at me, and wagged its tail.

“What’s going on here?” I said. “Water overflowing its bank, but continuing to flow as if it’s in its banks, a dog loses its head for no reason, and then it re-attaches? What the hell?”

Nobody paid any attention to my comments. The dream ended.

***

The next dream found me waiting for friends in a parking lot by some docks. I was excited, because we were doing something special that day, going on some sort of ride.

They walked up, my friend and his girlfriend. He was having second thoughts, which disappointed her. He asked me, “How ’bout you? Are you ready to go?” “Yes,” I said without hesitation.

We encountered four other friends. They were going in another car. Grabbing some gear, we got into my friends’ little silver car and took off. It was a quick ride. My friend voiced his uncertainties about what we were going to do, and the girlfriend turned to me and said, “He’s been like this for the last few days.”

I sympathized with both but said nothing.

We arrived and parked, and unloaded our gear. Then we approached the entrance. There was a line and we’d need to wait. They gave us a number. It’d be called when it was our turn.

We went out and sat on a grassy area by a sidewalk. One employee asked us if we wanted to play a game. The game involved us using a small bat, about eighteen inches long, to hit a ball about the size of a golf ball. The ball’s landing place established what you got, from out to home run, with every kind of hit in between, along with things like force outs and put out. Sure, we agreed.

My friend tried first and ended up with a little dribbler that ended as an out. Taking my turn, I hit a single. By the rules, you keep going until you’re out, so I kept going, hitting several more singles, getting better with each until I hit a home run. Everyone was impressed.

I surrendered my turn so that others could play. They were all quickly out, and it was my turn again. I continued hitting doubles, triples, and home runs. The employee said, “You’re better at this than anyone that I’ve ever seen.”

It was time for us to go on our adventure. I opened on of my bags to get my helmet out. I immediately spotted a Royal Stewart band. Pulling it out,  I confirmed that the crash helmet I had had belonged to Sir Jackie Stewart, a retired three-time Formula 1 world champion. I’d been a huge Jackie Stewart fan in my teens, so having the helmet delighted me.

My friend and his girlfriend discovered that they’d forgotten their helmets. As they bemoaned that, I said, “Don’t worry, I have extra helmets.” Opening bags, I found racing helmets. As I wondered why I had so many helmets, I thought that they belonged to retired racing drivers and was going to pull them out to look, but had to pass them on to my friends.

The dream ended.

 

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