Label this, ‘useless dialogue’. I was watching an episode of The Rig. Magnus (played by an actor I enjoy, Iain Glen) said, “We don’t know where Bremner is, so watch your back.” And then they all herd forward with none of them looking around or watching their back.
Yes, it’s an insignificant flea of an issue, so tiny that it can’t really even be called an issue. Except aspects of shows like that undermines the show’s quality and realism for me. It depletes the tension. They clearly weren’t really worried about Bremner because they didnot look around.
I know, all the things happening in the world and this is what I complain about? Well, don’t worry — I have a lot more complaints about other things.
What prompted me to mention it to her was this line: “The researchers identified two patterns of timing of consumption: morning and all day.”
I’m a morning and early afternoon drinker, for the record. But she told me that she mentioned it to her coffee group yesterday. All her age or older, they’re intelligent people with good recall skills. As a group, they came up with all the other things we’ve been warned about over the years, only to have them roll over and say, “Wait, our bad. New data is in.”
So, you know, we take this study and its revelation with a little reservation. And maybe a cuppa coffee.
My car is now ten years old but it has multiple modern conveniences. This includes auto-temp control, heated seats, active headlights (which turn with the front wheels and change angles when going up or down hills to keep them level), and other goodies. While my wife loves the butt warmer, my fave by far is the backup camera. It is so useful to me. I recommend those for everybody and every car.
Was in the library. Coldish day with air temp circulating at 42 F as rain and clouds said no to the sun.
A woman and child walked past. The adult seemed in her late thirties. Child, a girl, looked ten. I assume Mom and daughter but I don’t know. What struck was their dress. The adult wore boots, gloves, a knitted hat, and a puffy jacket. Kid wore crocs. Loose pants which looked like fleece jammies. A thin long-sleeved top.
Out they went into the weather together. I said something to my wife about the difference in their dress. She replied, “Yes, those young people just don’t seem to feel it, do they?”
I was on a mission. Leaping into the car, I drove down to the library. Fingers crossed, baby, fingers crossed. See, I finished a puzzle last year. Last month. The other day. Munda. Twosda, we took the puzzle apart, packed it up, and turned it ino the library from whence it came. Wezda, I discovered a piece had been left out.
Well, that sucked. The library was closed that day. I told my wife and set it aside. She agreed with me, “We must get that piece back into the box.” Way we talked about it, it was a whole Indiana Jones adventure in the making.
Tursda arrived, and we forgot about the piece until that night. Then a big Homer Simpson d’uh moment hit and I remembered the piece. So, today, I left early and took the piece. The puzzle was still there. Chuckling to myself, I opened the box and put the piece in. Whispers arose from the other pieces. “Thank the maker, our little missing green piece of window shutter has been returned.” “Praise the maker,” other pieces echoed.
We’re invited to some friend’s house to celebrate 12th Day on Jan 5. I’m looking forward to it because it’s the last official party of the holiday season for me.
I like the couple inviting us. Although we only met them this year, we’ve been at several of the same parties and ended up in satisfying conversations. But their invitation closed with an intriguing caveat: “Our driveway can only fit seventeen cars. Please consider carpooling.”
1. Seventeen cars? First, how do they know this? Was it listed as a feature or shortcoming when the property was being sold? “Driveway can fit seventeen cars.” Also, what sized cars are we talking about? Seventeen Fiats or seventeen Hummers? There’s a difference you know.
Other ways of knowing exist. Maybe they had a party and invited people and found out, OMG, our driveway can only fit seventeen cars. Or perhaps they did the measurements. Also, how are we parked on this driveway? Single file, in tandem? Two by two? So many questions.
2. I also suffered a bubble of driveway envy after reading that. Our driveway struggles with more than two cars, side by side. We can add two more in tandem behind the first two, depending on the relative sizes involved, but their rear ends will be sticking out from the curb. Looking at my street, we’d be challenged fitting seventeen cars onto it.
3. If they have parking for seventeen cars and suggest carpooling, how many people have they invited? My wife did mention that our hostess asked her for lists of the exercise class and coffee clatch participants, which not oddly if you know my wife is something that she prepared after arriving here and joining those activities and realizing that such a list — with names, phone numbers, birthdays, and email addresses — did not already exist.
Despite the suspiciously large crowd that might be there, I am looking forward to it. I mean, it is the last party of the season.
It’s a nice day for a white sky, Billy Idol might have sung for today. A flat white sheet mottled by gentle grey moguls hangs loose across our valley. A little blue slips in from the far western edge on my field of sight. Sunshine chips through where it can, coming in with a fair facsimile of light. 46 F, windy, it rained last night. Might rain today. Might achieve a 51 F high.
This is Tursda, January 2, 2025.
Many are not aware that January has an interesting populist origin to its name. The first part of the year in the nothern hemisphere was often dark, cold, and quiet except for storms. Outside wasn’t a hospitable place. Inside caves, huts, and other primitive dwellings, not much was going on, either, as a lack of light, Internet, and decent heating kept folks huddling. Those first months became known as Jawnsuary. That j was actually a y; the period was Yawnsuary because they were so dull and boring. Later, the first month of the year became known as January to appease the god, Janus. Winter festivities were promoted to lift people’s spirits and change their attitudes. Religious leaders told people, “The cold, darkness, and suffering is good. It helps you appreciate the light and warmth that comes later. Snow is good. Look at all that you can do with snow. Have a drink, you’ll come around.” High priests built the first snow churches, snow men, and snowballs. Religious leaders led the way in going outside to have fun in the snow. That’s why religious leadership often wore heavy black, red, or blue robes. To stay warm outside, and to be visible in the snow. That’s a fact, jack.
Today’s music started last night when I, reading some news reports, dubbed some people as crazy. I know, it’s not nice, and often maligns people with genuine mental health and emotional issues by lumping those who are deliberately delusional, greedy, evil, and corrupt in with them, such as certain right-wing leaders. Anyway, catching a sniff of those thoughts, The Neurons came up with Gnarls Barkley and their offering, which is just called, “Crazy”. It’s playing now in the morning mental music stream (Trademark impaired). This song is not to be confused with the song, “Crazy”, covered by Patsy Cline, and written by Willy Nelson. They do have things in common in their lyrics, like believing something which is a delusion. I’ll include them both so you can compare the two different but impactful songs.
Stay groovey and be hip. Coffee and I have renewed our vows for 2025. Here’s the music. Let’s go get ’em. Cheers
I’m thinking about becoming a person who goes by one name. Join Madonna, Cher, Sting, Beyonce, Pink. Kick off 2025 in a different way. The Neurons came up with Midel as the name. This is the first two letters of my first name and the last three letters of my last name.
I ran it by my wife. She wasn’t impressed. So I ran it by my sister. She laughed and laughed…
A common casual question being posed as people meet is, “Are you ready for the new year?”
I watched and listened to folks in the coffee shop. Yes, spying on them, listening to them. Most commonly when they’re asked this question, shrugs are given. Sometimes someone will say, “Not really.” I’ve not any any who say, “Yes.” I don’t answer yes, myself. I’m part of that not really congingent.
Michael Seidel, writer 