Tag: Heatwave

Wednesday’s Theme Music — Wild Claims

Ashland, southern Oregon — Wednesday, July 22, 2026.

Blue sky, sunshine, and high temperatures have arrived. 86 F now, gonna hit 99 F with a heat index of 105.

The sky is clear of smoke today. Our major threat, the East Evans Creek Fire, now 12 days old, is 26% contained. That’s good news but it’s a tragedy for the land, vegetation, and animals.

“The American Prospect” has a story about the ‘Freedom Fuel’ that made the White House so happy a few weeks ago.

Circle back. Knowing how MAGA Trump thinks, a gas station chain calling itself Freedom Fuel opened up gas stations in New Jersey and Pennsylvania. Knowing how to get Trump’s attention, and some free publicity, the gas was priced at $3.47 a gallon, the 47 cent part being in honor of Trump, which makes total economic sense.

Trump publicly pumped the gas station and its price, even though the price went up to $3.57 after a few days. He then crowed about how he promised gas prices were going to come down fast.

Your Trump Quote of the Day:

That was then. This is now. “The American Prospect” and others are shedding light on how that low gas price of $3.57 came about.

Freedom Fuel now averages $3.92 a gallon, and isn’t the cheapest gas around any longer. Meanwhile, thanks to Trump’s new attacks on Iran and other factors, the national average for a gallon of gas is again $4.

Classic Trump math: up is down. More is less.

Trump is always making wild claims. His war with Iran would be over quickly, in weeks — back in March.

Prescription drug prices were coming down over 1,000% — financially and medically impossible. He would cut energy prices immediately, if not by 12 months, certainly by 18.

That was two years ago.

Now — still — Trump keeps going on about election fraud. Has to be fraud, because he doesn’t understand how it works.

No evidence, of course, exists to support this election fraud fantasy, any more than his claims about the war ending back in March or that drug prices were coming down 1,000%, or that vandals damaged the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool. He made fantastic claims about that, too, changing the damage from 250 feet to 300 yards.

How does anyone ever believer him about anything?

Today’s music circulating in the morning mental music stream is “Your Wildest Dreams” by The Moody Blues. Justin Hayward wrote the song while thinking back on a first love. But My Neurons, oblivious as they are, took ‘the wildest dreams’ aspect in reflection to Trump’s ongoing wild claims.

I hope your day is calm and fun, relaxing and healthy. Stay safe, wherever you are.

Cheers

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Mood: coffeetermined

Dry, hazy, hot. Not as hot as many U.S. places. Haven’t really checked the rest of the world. I’ve been mired in my American experience.

It’s 83 F in Ashlandia, where the sky is postcard blue and the sun beams down with frying bacon intensity. Gonna get hot today. How hot is questionable; one source said, 99 F. Another gave us a quote of 95 F. Somewhere in the upper nineties is my guess.

Tomorrow will be cooler, they’re saying. Fingers crossed, they’re right. Some are saying, 89 F will crown the temperature. Others declare, 91 F.

I’d love something in the high eighties for a change. I’m working on the side yard. We have a couple raised beds located there but chose not to use them this year, because we had other plans. While I was away in May, this yard grew thick with weeds. Now they’re all straw yellow and ripe fire fuel. I’m trying to remove it all but the heat gets in my way. Also, I grab this stuff and it just breaks away. Getting rid of it is going to be an involved process. I’m considering watering it to green it and then pull it up.

Papi and this jay have something going on. Papi is our ginger blade, a rescue floof abandoned when neighbors moved away. He and they apparently didn’t get along well. He’d started visiting us and socializing. Originally calling him Meep because of the soft sound he made, we started feeding him and giving him shelter when the weather went to shit. Eventually, he was ours and his original folks were gone.

I don’t know what precipitated it, but whenever Papi leaves the house and goes into the backyard, this jay flies over and screeches at him. I mean, it’s relentless. This started several days ago but this morning’s episode seemed more intense. I had the bedroom slider open to let the cool night air in, with the screen closed. Papi came in and ate just before six and went back out, and that jay started up like a frenzied MAGA fan. I could see the bird on our table yelling at Papi. Papi didn’t seem to be doing anything in response.

Anyway, out of that, The Neurons conjured the 1972 song which Billy Paul had a hit with. See, I’d said to myself, Papi and that jay have a thing going on. I guess The Neurons thought that segued well with the song’s lyrics, “We have a thing going on.” So now I have the song playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark scratched). If you listen to the song as I did, I sang along but subbed the words, “Papi and the jay have a thing going on.” When I sang it to Papi, I swear that he rolled his eyes and walked away.

Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee is mingling with the tastebuds. Time to jam. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Friday’s Theme Music

Mood: Heatweary

It’s currently seventy something in Ashlandia, sunny as hell, with blue sky from here to there, and Friday, July 19, 2024. The morning lacks that ‘Friday feel’ to it that used to be so special. That might be because the continuous high heat has evaporated it. Or melted it. I don’t know.

It will be cooler here today, reaching just 93 F, just above our standard for this time of year. ‘This time of year’ is used so much, we should create a new word out of it, like thistimeofyear.

It’s quiet time in my life but busy. Tracking others’ health, tracing my health, trying to get on top of a rotating list of tasks, but you get ’em done and they come around again. It’s part of life’s great cycle.

Of course, U.S. politics are weighing down my thoughts and mood. Trump speaks and out spews lies. And those who disparaged him before now stand by his side singing his praises. The lack of principles is sickening, more so for those who support these characters.

Anyway, my brain was talking to me about how ‘everybody knows’ that Trump lies. It’s like a given. Somehow, that gains him followers. What kind of voodoo is that?

A dark and pessimistic song was brought forward by The Neurons. “Everybody Knows” by Leonard Cohen came out in 1988. His bassy graveled words carry sensibilities of wry cynicism and worldly acceptance. Playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark tarnished), the lyrics mock how all know and accept. Cohen lists them with a sneer — “Everybody knows.” That’s how it seems now. Everybody knows Trump lies and cheats, it’s been proven. He leaves glittering disaster in his wake and there’s a history to prove it. Everybody knows. But he has his supporters singing his praises, pretending that shit hasn’t happened. Everybody knows it’s because they share his ‘values’. When we dig deeper into those values, we discover that they’re just a veneer over their prejudices, fear, and hatred. Calling them ‘values’ makes them feel better about themselves, even though everybody knows that it’s bullshit.

Stay positive — seems cynical, maybe even hypocritical, for me to suggest that to you, given how insurmountable I find it each day to stay positive in the face of media reports, polls, and the GOP hypocrisy. But, swallow, deep breath, I try, and urge you to do the same. Stay positive. Lean forward. Be strong. Vote Blue in 2024. And believe.

Coffee and I are doing the morning dance. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood: heatthargic

Didn’t get too cool last night. Was only supposed to reach 99 F yesterday but my place saw almost 103 and then the heat hung around long after the sun said adios. Today, Sunday, July 14, 2014, I see clouds in the western sky. 73 F now in my zone, the heat is expected to push the mercury (or digital mercury) to 96 F.

Just finished the breakfast ritual. For a long time, I ate oatmeal, serving it up with fruit and walnuts mixed in. The fruit was mostly blueberries but blackberries were sometimes subbed. Once in a while, strawberries, peaches, or nectarines were installed on the menu. A few years ago, I switched to bagels. I nuke them to warm them and then butter them up. Fresh fruit has been added. Today, I had a kumquat. Then three plump blackberries. A dozen fat blueberries followed, and then a prune, several almonds, and a small slice of watermelon. The fruit varies, depending on what’s in season and what’s bought.

Now, doesn’t it feel good know what I had for breakfast? No, I’m sure it wasn’t at all interesting to you except for you to mutter, why is he writing this? Just a whim.

Today’s music began as “Richard Cory” by Simon & Garfunkel. But even as I protested, I did that song earlier this year, and then asked The Neurons why that song was in the morning mental music stream (Trademark stretched), the song changed to “Find Your Way Back” by Jefferson Starship. I had an idea of why it was there; I’d read of a hope that a coalition of Democrats will find their way back and support President Biden in his re-election and carry us to victory in November. But then —

*dramatic pause*

Papi finished his brekkie and wandered in for some attention. As he sat beside me on the ground, permitting me to bestow needed skritches around his ears, chin, and neck, he stopped proceedings to move aside and scratch an itch. Naturally, I said, “Scratch that itch,” in the same style as it’s sung in Devo’s hit song, “Whip It” from 1980. The Neurons latched onto that like a newborn taking to a nipple, so it’s now the song occupying my mental regions.

Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Also, enjoy a healthy breakfast. Coffee is being finished. Here’s the music video. Cheers

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Friday’s Theme Music

Mood: sizzlin’

Greetings from Ashlandia, where the heat stays on. It’s Friday, July 12, 2024. July has been a flaming month. Formalling started on July 4th, when the thermometers were showing it’s over 100 F and has barely eased. For today, we’ll tap one degree below 100. It’s a pleasant morning now, though, 68 at my house after falling to 62 F. Tomorrow, we go back to 100 F. Sunday is expected to drop into the low 90s, kicking off a stretch where our highs will crest in the 90s and the lows overnight will find the mid to upper sixties.

Air looks pretty good. Blue cloudless sky looks particulate free, except over in the horizon’s northwestern sector. Probably from the Salt Creek fire. They’re making good progress on it with a lot of mopping up going on. They warned that we’d probably see greater smoke last night, as we did, because they started a fire inside the containment line to fight to fire to keep it from jumping the fire line.

Boy howdy, that cool night air was invigorating, friends. As the sun slipped away and the temperatures slithered down below 80, I slid open the bedroom slider and the cats and I reveled in it. I’ve been sleeping atop the duvet, not bothering with even a coverlet, but I awoke cold enough that I pulled a light blanket over me. Tucker (pronounced Tuckah) stayed with me most of the night but as I got up to open the slider’s screen door to let Papi in and out (and in and out, repeat), Tucker said, “Hey, I want to go out there, too.” The boy has been feeling the heat, and his age.

Well, read news last night that the Beastie Boys were suing some restaurant over use of their song, “Sabotage”, from 1991. As soon as The Neurons were informed, they pulled the song from their mental file cabinet (my brain still uses paper but they’re talking about going digital) and now it’s blasting in the morning mental music stream (Trademark melting). As with many songs I enjoy, I’d never seen the video for it. Seeing it today is like a smack in the face from a wayback machine. Great fun.

Stay positive and be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024, and return President Biden to the Oval Office. Coffee and I have come to terms and are getting along swell. Here’s the music video, directed by Spike Jonze. Hey ho, let’s go. Cheers

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood: Overbaked

“Heat Awareness Week” continues in Ashlandia today, where the temperature will reach 106 F. Yesterday, I saw 109 F at my house. My friend on the other end of town registered 110 F. Officially, I think the town ‘only’ registered 104 F. While we didn’t see 100 degrees on Friday until after 3:30 PM, 102 was stuck by 1:30, and it just kept on climbing.

It’s 80 F now, so already warming. Monday and Tuesday are also expected to surmount the triple digit level before plunging into the mid to high nineties next week. In a happy move, though, our lows tonight are dropping into the high sixties, giving us some nocturnal release.

I don’t understand why but The Neurons have Prince and The Revolution performing “When Doves Cry” from 1984 in the morning mental music stream (Trademark scorched). Perhaps it’s kismet; according to the wiki thingy, this song was #1 from July 7, 1984, holding that spot for five weeks. Today is Sunday, July 7, 2024, just a scant forty years ago to the day. Now a pause to recover from realizing that the song is that old.

I actually suspect that the song is in my head because of some passing thoughts from Friday. My wife and I had just left a bakery and were in the car, driving away. The blue sky reminded me of the Okinawa sky, as did the moment — leaving the bakery. I asked her if she remembered going to the American Bakery on Okinawa to buy dessert. She didn’t remember that. Part of the trigger for that memory, though, was that “Raspberry Beret” by Prince and The Revolution was playing on the radio, and that song came out in the mid 1980s, when I lived on Okinawa.

Stay positive, remain cool, be strong, and enjoy life. Coffee and I have exchanged greetings for the morning. Here’s the music video, and away we go. Cheers

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Smokeday’s Theme Music

Mood: weary

Sunday, August 20, 2023. Ashlandia, where the sky tries to stay blue but the smoke rolls in from the south. 74 degrees F, eyeing 88 F as the heat’s top end.

Smoke is back. Air is filthy. Very unhealthy to hazardous. Easterly wind blowing but it’s so light, leaves are barely stirred, and the smoke mocks the effort. Not as bad as the other morning; the sun displays some semblance of its standard morning coloring. Depressing is rolling in. Coughing. Stuffed up noses. Watering, itchy eyes.

The cats aren’t pleased, neither, confined to quarters, their normal routines halted. Forced change is not fun. Well, Tucker is okay with it. He’s older and is, okay, fine, I’ll just nap in here. But Papi sometimes breaks into crys of freedom. Then I tell him no and he walks off.

In another of those WTF America stories, a woman, mother of nine, the story says, was shot and killed by a man angered by the rainbow flag on display at her store. Senseless.

Weather eye on Hurricane Hilary and California. Fire eye on Hawaii and their recovery. Fire eye also on California, Canada, and Oregon. Heat eye on most of the US.

The Neurons loaded the morning mental music stream (Trademark preposterous) with Ricky Martin, “Livin’ La Vida Loca”. Song came out in 1999. I mostly remember it from my Paris business trip a year, maybe two, later, when I went about singing living la vida mocha. Yes, I am a silly person. Figure it’s a good song for this era, when it all seems a bit crazy. I can speculate that most eras had people thinking that it’s a little nuts outside.

Speaking of mocha, I’m havin’ my coffee now. Stay pos, be strong, maybe have a little fun. Pretend it’s life and it’s worth living, even if you live it a little crazy. Here’s the tune. Cheers

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Lastallday’s Theme Music

Touching a sword to the day’s shoulder, I dubbed Saturday Lastallday. I’m alluding to the smoke. Fires are on three sides. Two in California and one, Rum Creek, in Oregon. The newest is Mill Fire by Weed down I-5. It’s like bonfires lit the night out there as a burnt wood smell permeates existence and ash collects on plants and cars. Depresses the bejeesus out of me, hence the name, Lastallday, as in, I hope this air doesn’t last all day.

Bad as we have it, far worse for the people enduring the smoke and fire aspect of it. Evacuations are spreading, animals are fleeing, people are praying, and they’re losing homes and possessions. Another weary year of drought, fire, and smoke with reports coming in that it’s only going to get worse in the coming years.

Hi. Today is September 3, 2022. Sunrise lit our environment in red gold as Sol rays were given scarlet hues by smoke particles at 6:39 this morning. Not a cloud in the sky, we’re bathing in cool air, 17 C, which would be lovely if it wasn’t smoke laden. A high of 100 F is in the works before the night shift takes over at 7:42 PM.

My wife is bummed out. Lake of the Woods Resort isn’t far away. Each summer Saturday, they have a BBQ and then a southern Oregon band plays and everyone dances. We’d created a tradition of trekking up there a few times during summer to celebrate and have fun. Well, COVID holed the tradition for the last two years. This year, it just fell apart. Our June plans fell through, and now our Labor Day plans have gone kerplunk. She’s in a mood, which puts me in a mood. The blazing hot, smoky day does little to alleviate our outlooks. Hope it doesn’t last all day.

I really like that expression, ‘bummed out’. Certainly stocks my mind with interesting imagery.

I’m not much help for my wife. Focused on writing after denying myself the opportunity while other things were pursued at her behest. First, the push to stay in the military. Get that retirement. “You’ll write when you retire from the Air Force,” she told me. Then I retired in 1995 and wanted to move somewhere to make that plan so. “I have a career here,” she said, referring to her advertising employment in Silicon Valley, SF-San Jose California edition. “So I don’t want to move.” But also, I needed to work because that place is hella expensive. After a few years, her employment was over and I was embedded in corporate life, which lasted a few decades, because someone needed to bring in income. And here we are.

Yeah, I’m bitter. Sorry about the self-pity spiel. I’ll try not to do that again.

Checked on Mom. She and her partner are still recovering from COVID. Mom is on molnupiravir under an FDA EUA.

Catching note of my mood, The Neurons saw that I yearned for other times, for times in the near past when I could walk outside, breathe pleasant air and plan activities without worrying about wildfires, smoke, or COVID-19. The Neurons fished around those circulating thoughts and drew out Nirvana and “Come As You Are” from 1992. The Neurons argue that my thoughts reflect my mood of 1992, when the future looked so bright, I had to wear shades. Right.

Here’s the tune. Time to get some magic elixir in me, ye ol’ black brew, kaffee. Test negative, stay positive, and on and on and on. Cheers

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