Saturday’s Theme Music

Hello to all you deceivers and believers, along with the in-betweeners. That’s something Willie Nelson sang about.

Despite everything that happened in everyone’s lives, at least in this reality, the world has continued spinning, bringing us to Saturday, April 8, 2023. Despite those pronouncements about day and date, nature and the world outside of humanity goes about its business. Date and day and time doesn’t matter to it. We’re the believers, deceivers, and in-betweeners worrying about it.

The sun lightened the sky at 6:42 this morning. The world will spin Ashlandia into darkness at 1944, as far as we know. It’s 45 F now but 66 is possible, the weather goobers tell us. Mind the rain, it’ll be in and out all day, dismaying the cats, who were counting on sunshine.

Today’s song comes from getting out of bed. As the light in the room grew louder, I said to myself, get up, get up. That shifted to rise up, but memory of a dream was preoccupying my energy. Toward the end of that contemplation, The Neurons slipped “Run” by Snow Patrol out of 2004 into the morning mental music stream. “Light up, light up, as if you have a choice.” That brought a chuckle up. Staying in bed isn’t an option. Words to write and books to read were waiting, along with coffee and feed.

Then there are the cats, talking about me as if I was dead, conversing with one another, “Is he alive?”

“I don’t know. I’m gonna put a claw to his cheek and see what he does. Oh, yes, he’s alive.”

I guess I owe getting up to the cats. Well, they’ve been fed and released to the backyard where the hunt for sun entertains them.’re Stay pos. Coffee is ready so I’m gonna rise up and get a cup. There’s also vegan blueberry scones. Home made by my SO, who remains on a baking kick. I’m the beneficiary. Care for one? They go well with coffee. If you’re not a scone’r , she also made vegan chocolate chip muffins, which also go well with coffee. Plenty here and I assure you, they’re terrific.

Here’s Snow Patrol’s power ballad. Cheers

Thursday’s Wandering Thought

The phone rang. It was about a pie.

Not just any pie. Apparently Costco offered a pie which weighed almost five pounds. What? Peanut butter and chocolate, it sold out fast.

Friends had gone to an early doctor’s appointment. After that, they made it to Costco at its opening time. One rushed back to the pies. Only four of these remained.

They called his wife. Tell Mikey — their pet name for him — to come over and get a piece of pie. He needs to try it. He’d not heard of it but his wife convinced him to go. They cut him a large piece because the thought he had a big appetite. He ate part of the piece after dinner.

Yes, chocolate. A mousse, it seemed like. But also peanut butter. Both flavors were distinct. Good crust, too, but man was that bugger sweet.

As sweet was that his friends thought of him and wanted him to have a piece.

Very, very sweet.

The Running Dream

A young man once again in my dream, thirty-something, I was staying at a sprawling hotel, enjoying a reunion with friends. Suite doors were open, and we were freely intermingling, chatting, drinking, eating, whatever moved you at the moment. Coming into one unit, four RL friends, military officers not seen in over thirty years, told me they were going for a run and asked me to come along.

Well, I protested, I’m not in running gear and I have nothing suitable to wear. Another old friend came up with something, though, so I agreed to go running. The newcomer was going to, so he waited for me to change. The others, meanwhile, jogged away. As I continued changing, the other guy announced he was going to start running now, too, because he didn’t want to fall too far behind. “Go on,” I answered. “I’ll catch up.”

I was almost done changing by then, and I started jogging a just a few seconds after he began. I caught him quickly.

We were running outside but on the cement balcony that connected our rooms, which were located on the inside of a courtyard. As we ran, we frequently had to dodge non-runners, people go in and out of rooms or standing and chatting or eating. I saw many friends among them.

We were catching the others, but I was impatient with the slow pace. When the opportunity came, I surged forward. Catching the first four easily, I went around them and set out at a faster speed. They laughed, shouting that I was a showoff and predicting that I’d soon tired out. But I found the running invigorating. As I rounded a corner and turned right, I saw a long, straight stretch empty of people, and pressed myself into a higher gear. I was almost flat our sprinting. People were talking about this and watching.

Sweat plastered my hair down and slathered my face. My breathing was hard. The running felt good, so I decided to run as fast and hard and long as I could. Entering into an all-out sprint with others cheering for me, I finished a lap and caught the first running group and passed them. I felt that I couldn’t go much longer and slowed, but then told himself, no, you’re not done, you have more, and forced myself into a max sprint again. I managed to complete another lap as the others stopped and returned to the room where we started. As I finished a third lap, drenched in sweat and cheered on by almost everyone, my original four friends shouted, “Stop running, you show off. It’s time to eat.”

I ran into the room and stopped. Talking about how much I was sweating, they were laughing. Others came in and urged me, take a shower, but someone pressed a plate of food on me, saying, “I made this for you. Eat.”

I started eating. Dream end.

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Wednesday glided on, light as a feather. January 18, 2023. 39 degrees F. Snow on the mountains but dry in the valley for now. Mild winds. Rain in the forecast and a high of 45 F as we navigate the weather and hours between 7:36 AM, when the sun kicked in the sunlight, to 5:08 PM, when the sun is kicked back out.

I have a Jimmy Buffett song from 1978 drumming through my morning mental music stream. I’ve been thinking about having a cheeseburger. We eat plant-based burgers at home. They’re delish. But we don’t keep cheese on hand because we like, use it, and eat it. I’ve been thinking about having one from somewhere, like a restaurant, I supposed for at least five days. Why haven’t I done it? I don’t know.

Yesterday, I read another person’s blog post “Caught In A Trap…Again”. They quoted lyrics from Jimmy Buffett’s song, “Fruitcakes”, in it. That triggered a memory storm for The Neurons. A husband and wife in the mid 1990s who were my neighbors were big Jimmy Buffett fans. They played his music, went to his restaurants and concerts, and wore his tee shirts. When the Fruitcakes album was released in 1994, Rick invited friends over to hear the album and have drinks and burgers. It was a bit of the tropics in that little California cul-de-sac that evening, but with cheeseburgers and cold draft beer. Margaritas were also offered, of course. It was a memorably good time.

Back to “Fruitcakes”, I’ve always enjoyed the line “Everyone has a little fruitcake in them” from it. Anyway, a Jimmy Buffett medley filled the stream for a bit but with the cheeseburger desire raging in me, “Cheeseburger in Paradise” is the last song playing.

Stay positive and do your best, I guess. Or not. It’s easy to say do your best and keep trying but, man, don’t we know that some many factors mitigate what you can do and the results? Sure.

It’s time for coffee and music. Here’s the tune. I’ll go get the coffee. Cheers

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