Another splash of autumn covers the day, this day being Friday, October 4, 2024. Skies, trees, sun, etc. Coolish warming air grazing around 61 F. Expectations that we’ll kiss upper seventies today, a few nicks down from the mid 80s felt yesterday. Tomorrow, we’re back into the eighties, riding the seesaw of seasonal change.
The cats traverse the doors in and out, liking the outdoors in sun patches, bundling themselves into loaves, moving when the sun shies away from their chosen skim of earth. Chess with sunshine, they think themselves kings, bishops at least, but the sun treats them like pawns.
The Neurons are wandering my mind’s corridors, apparently. They dust off a 1968 song and start playing it in the morning mental music stream (Trademark ancient). As breakfast makes its trip to the stomach’s acids, I question The Neurons about why this and now? This is Cream doing “Anyone for Tennis.” Now is today, 2024, a zillion plus one years removed from when I was a boy and saw them on television. Cream were on the Smothers Brothers Show and did this show. I found the video to it on Youtube. Their clothing snatches back reminders of the purple and blue paisley shirts and denim bell bottoms worn by moi in those days. Later, in my high school years, the bell bottoms would remain but the shirts would become simpler designs and colors. The hair was always long, thick, wild and curly, exasperating my divorced parents, amusing my sisters and aunts and uncles, and sometimes entrancing a girl.
Done with the mornin’ memory portion of the day unless The Neurons pull more out. They may at any given. Stay positive, test negative, be strong, and vote blue. Coffee has had its way with me. Here’s the music. Onward. Cheers
October 1, 2024. Tuesday. Officially time for pumpkins in the U.S. Or so it was when I was an effen grasshopper. Didn’t have all those fancy pumpkin drinks and confections bursting onto the scene. We had pumpkin patches and pumpkin pies. Simpler sales and marketing era.
I remember tasting my first pumpkin spice latte at Starbucks. Living in Califonia, retired from the military. Family visiting circa 2003. Oddly chilly Saturday afternoon. Drove ‘over the hill’ as it was called from Half Moon Bay to visit the San Jose Institute of Technology. Afterward, we were flagging. Coffee and some sitting was needed. Hey, a Starbucks. Hey, I heard about those pumpkin spiced latte. Let’s try those. Sugar, whipped cream, coffee, pumpkin? Why not.
It was okay. Didn’t convert me or anything but rejuvenated my spring for a few hours.
Autumn is hanging all over us this morning. Long morning shadows from the rising sun spill across the land, highlighting golden and yellow leaves blazing in sunlight. We lack trees with oranges, reds, and scarlets in our immediate. Kind of a bummer. Soon as you descend the short hill to the boulevard, they’re abundant. Just not up here. I’m tryin’ not to be personally insulted over it.
55 F now and sunny, expect a high of 86 F. Fire warning is in effect. Dry conditions and warm air deliver the chance that any fire starting can spread fast. Take heed. It’s due to end later this morning.
Tough watching and reading news coverage of Hurricane Helene’s destruction. Flash floods and sudden floods and storm surges, heavy winds and rains. Death and catastrophe mark the spots. Sickening and disheartening for the people of all those states and areas struck. Individual stories arise of bravery, hopelessness, and tragedy. Hope your friends and family are okay, wherever they are. The strength of a nation and a people is that we will respond to help them recover and rebuild however we can.
With weather on my mind, it’s little wonder that The Neurons responded by songs about hurricanes, lightning and storms. While they played in the morning mental music stream (Trademark underwater), I sought they out on my usual, Youtube. Lo’, the expired licensing deal between YouTube and SESAC makes some songs unavailable. Hope that resolves soon. Fortunately for my Neurons, there’s a plethora of storm songs in mind to look for. I ended up with AC/DC and “Thunderstruck” from 1990.
Keep on being strong, register, and vote blue. Coffee and I have begun our daily agreement. I talk nice about it and it helps me adult. Here’s the music. Cheers
Autumn covered us this morning with a familiar old comforter. Sunshine on changing leaves, cloudy, hazy blue sky, crisp weather ranging from the upper forties (Fahrenheit) at night to today’s high in the low to mid 70s.
Today is Sunday, September 29, 2024.
It’s National Coffee Day in the United States! Like many holidays, its provenance is a little iffy. Coffee is a staple in the United States. Lot of coffee drinkers like me swear by a daily brew or two. The only thing I drink more than coffee is water, and the only drink I enjoy more than coffee is beer. But coffee has less calories and is fat free! Woo hoo! While it has some potential benefits, it comes with potential risks. IMO, the coffee person relationship is more individualized. Either your body works well with coffee or it doesn’t. Think I’ll celebrate as I do every other day, with a cuppa coffee.
BTW, since there’s a coffee-inspired holiday, there are coffee-inspired deals available. USA Today provides a list.
Yeah, baby, year, real debate, not vibes. Real debate as Trump and his surrogate, J.D. Vance, spread acknowledged lies about Haitians eating pets in Ohio. Let’s debate that, Roberts.
Will Trump debate the ‘stolen election’ claims he continues to make, even after admitting that he lost the election? The stolen election claims that were thrown out of court over and over again? The efforts to overturn the election that he’s been indicted for?
Let’s have a debate over Trump’s healthcare plan. The one he installed when he was POTUS. *Chortle – yeah, that didn’t happen.* Vaporware has more substance than Trump’s current ‘concept of a plan’.
Let’s debate Trump’s declaration that he’d protect women after the fucking disaster of the Trump-stacked Dobbs decision and its afterbirth on women, their rights, their bodies, and their health. You know, the women who he refers to as ‘bimbos’. The ones he’d grab by the pussy, and Jean Carroll.
Donald Trump: You know and I moved on her actually. You know she was down on Palm Beach.
Unknown: She used to be great. She’s still very beautiful.
Trump: I moved on her and I failed. I’ll admit it. I did try and f*** her. She was married.
What respect he shows! Such a protector! (Yes, that last was late-morning, coffee-fueled snark.)
Yes, let’s have a debate between Trump and Vice President Harris, Roberts! Oh, we can’t because Trump refuses to debate Harris again because she trounced him the last time so badly that Trump’s feelings remain hurt.
Moving on.
Today’s music was inspired by another’s blog post. Tom MacInnes mentioned April Wine in his fabulous series about rock music. I’ve only featured April Wine here once, six years ago. But after today’s post, The Neurons were stirred to drop “Roller” from 1979 into the morning mental music stream (Trademark limited). I had a Canadian friend serving in the U.S. Air Force with me on Okinawa. April Wine was one of his basic “we’re going to play their music” groups. If you were at his house listening to music, you would hear April Wine sooner or later.
Funny, but thinking on that, several such connections exist through my years of friendships. With Jeff, it was Culture Club. Randy could be depended on to bring out Van Halen, although Boston also came out at his place. Rich in Germany was a Chris Rea advocate while Bobby was apt to crank up Cream. Gene, being more old school, frequently invoked the Grateful Dead. Robert was always bringing in Rush. Such a group of characters. Of course, I was likely to turn up a piece out of Pink Floyd’s catalog.
Stay positive, test negative, remain strong, and lean forward. While you’re at it, could you also vote blue in 2024.
Some artists got together and painted us the bluest sky. Brill sunshine was dabbed in o’er the goldenish green trees towering across the backyard. Cats and I were well-thrilled with this autumn display, frolicking in a mature way in the 50 something F air. We’ll plumb the mid 80s F today but autumn is bigfooting its presence on Ashlandia.
This is Friday, September 27, 2024.
I’ve circled at the usual AM stops and found some part of me meditating on What Constitutes A Healthy Breakfast? Trader Joe’s sheet cake was inviting me for a taste but that’s not healthy, is it? Well, it could be. Pumpkin and spices. Probably all artificial. But tasty.
Laboring through the morning news. Hurricane Helene did the wreckage as expected. Still rampaging. NY’s mayor indicted. The noble and dignified Trump hawking watches. They say they found the world’s oldest cheese, too. I thought that was in my fridge. I checked; still there. So that’s another example of fake news, innit?
Maggie Smith passed. 89, which is now considered a youngerish sort of age. Suppose because I’m closer to that yardstick. Beloved is an often overused word, up there with superstar. Beloved seems apt for Maggie Smith.
Alice in Chains is dominating the morning mental music stream (Trademark trademarked) with “Would” from 1992. I check and learn, yes, I used “Would” before as theme music, in September in another year. I have detected a trend of having the same songs come to me in the same months of different years. Serendipity? Random psychosis? Bullshit observation? I don’t know. It’d take more study and I haven’t had enough coffee to pursue it past my fingers bashing a keyboards.
I sneeze several times. My wife isn’t here so I need to tell myself, “Godzilla”.
Which inspires Blue Oyster Cult and their ode to the creature terrorizing Tokyo. It’s been pinned as theme music here too and doesn’t feel synchronized to my day, although nothing else does, either.
Then, clicking and muttering, I’m lead to Stevie Nicks’s new offering, “The Lighthouse”. Nicks said that she’d been on the road, listening to a newscaster talking about Roe v. Wade being overturned. Thinking of what it would mean, she had to write a song.
Nicks sings,
Because everything I fought for Long ago in a dream, is gone Someone said The dream is not over The dream has just begun Or Is it a nightmare Is it a lasting scar It is unless you save it And that’s that Unless you stand up And take it back And take it back
Yes, this feels like a song for today. Hope you give it an ear.
Be strong and so on as we wade through the days, 39 of them, until November 5, 2024. Coffee still tickles my throat in measured swallows. Here’s the music. Cheers
It’s a splashing autumn day. Lofty clouds of the decorative sort keeps the sky a lighter shade of morning. Sunshine stumbles in around the clouds to take us up from the high 50s to the high 70s. Yellows and reds are mixing it up with the trees’ greenery. No oranges in residence among the foliage yet.
Welcome to Wednesday, September 25, 2024. Please stand while we sing Ashlandia’s anthem, which sounds a lot like a repurposed rendition of “O Canada.”
I’m in a news trench, reading about our world and the many ways it thrills and disappoints. Find your own examples, I’m not regurgitating them here.
Autumn and the floofs are getting along like oceans and pirates. It’s a mellow grooming, gazing, ear-twitching still life of them in the back as a cloud interrupts their sunbath. Mild annoyance ruffle their whiskers as wind curses the yard. Papi the ginger blade looks especially affronted by this incursion. A place must be found to rest without wind’s prying fingers. He begins stretches and a hunt but bird noises and leafy sounds must be given attention.
Thinking on how autumn seems to have come around, and The Neurons place a song in the morning mental music stream (Trademark imploding). Green Day came out with “When I Come Around” in 1995. I was still a military member then, unspecting that I was on the cusp of retirement. I was over twenty by then, so I’d done my time. I liked my life there but the Air Force noticed I’d been at Onizuka Air Base in Sunnyvale, California, for four years. Time to be moved. They offered me an Inspector General role in Space Command which I nixed. They then presented Whiteman AFB in Missouri for my next tour of duty. That didn’t appeal so I did the necessary ink and walked.
Well, you know the standard closing about strength, positivity, and leaning. Vote blue, of course, like you’re sane and not out to gouge other’s civil rights to better your own existence because you’re a narrow-minded GOP twat. Yes, my black brew is talking through me. I offer the music now out of Woodstock 94, a scant three decades past.
I’m chatting with the barista. He tells me my order will be up soon. I ask him, “Did you ring me up?”
He’s completely confused.
I straighten it out, explaining that I wanted to know if he’d charged me, and walk away, laughing. It used to be — a classic beginning to an explanation about change — that cash registers made a ringing sound when transactions were totaled for payment. How long has it been since I’ve heard a cash register ring? As a result, ‘ring me up’ entered society as a popular expression for paying for purchases.
As an aside, my wife had one of those mechanical, ringing registers in her house. Her father, a grocery store manager, procured it when his store upgraded to an electronic system. The register’s ring reminded him of the little stores where they’d shop in his small town.
A front has driven in, strewning clouds of different complexities over Ashlandia, giving us variables in lights, shadows, temperatures, and expectations. Sumumn still holds but it’s beginning to look like autmer as trees flirt with new colors in their leaves. Only dropped to the high fifties last night, and today’s high temperature will spank 90 degrees F.
This is Monday, September 23, 2024. You understand that 2024’s ninth month is closing out and there are but 94 days until Kwanzaa, 93 days until Christmas, and 93 days until Hanukkah? There’s also only 43 days until the U.S.’s 2024 elections. Things are getting tight.
Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) inspired today’s musical choice, although coffee contributed. Having indulged in my first hit of black goodness, I saw Tucker came out from eating. Moving slow, his eyes were mostly closed and his tongue was busy going over his whiskes and mouth. Sitting, he commenced to watching.
That’s when The Neurons or somebody caused me to sing, “Tucker. I just fed a kitty named Tucker.” This was done to the tune of “Blue Jean” by David Bowie. Right after that, the 1984 song fired up in my morning mental music stream (Trademark dished). It’s a catchy little Bowie number, jaunty with memorable lines which don’t convey any great depths. How did he do that?
Stay positive, confident, and strong. Lean forward and vote blue in 2024. Coffee has been served in the office; here’s the music. Cheers
It’s Sunday, September 22, 2024. First day of autumn, aka fall, in the northern latitudes. Sumumn is still visiting Ashlandia. Chilly last night at 52 F at our place, the high will pop into the low 80s F today. A relatively windless day, sunshine baths a blue sky where lonely moon offers a pale version of its waning self high in the western sky.
Haven’t read any news this morning. Was just involved with other matters and felt no great urge to jump into war, disasters, politics, tragedy, or weather. I instead read more of my library book, Slough House, by Mick Herron. Entertaining and distracting, it’s just what I required with my Sunday morning cuppa coffee.
Although I’ve been reading about bots and AI off and on recently, a cat inspired today’s song. Messing around with Papi, the ginger blade, so named because of his slender shape, brought the song up. Papi is well established in his ways. After eating, he washes up and then comes for some skrive, which is flooflish for sritch-love. He only stays about eight minutes and then abruptly whirls and leaves. As he departed today, I told him, “Domo arigatō,” after he left the session, continuing, “I appreciate the visit. Come again.”
Click, The Neurons recalled “Mr. Roboto” by Styx and began playing it in the morning mental music stream (Trademark rusty). The song, which seems like it’s about a man who is a robot, came out in 1983. I was stationed on Okinawa, Japan in 1983. As with many Americans stationed over there in the military, domo arigatō was one of several common Japanese expressions we’d learned as part of that experience. So that song was instantly and hugely popular with a segment of the personnel. Later, I had a young friend when were stationed in Germany who loved this song. He’d played the drums and keyboards, sing the lyrics, and act as a robot during parts of it. Yes, a crazy, memorable dude.
Enjoy your day, stay strong, be positive, and vote blue in 2024. Here’s the music, and awaaayyy we go. Cheers
Sunshine jumped over the hills and in through the windows, lighting up the trees against a blue sumumn sky. Although we’re ranging through the mid fifties now as the sun’s air kisses the air, we’ll be striking the mid to upper 70s by day’s end.
Cut the grass yesterday. We have one large section of it which is something called clover. Bees were busily jumping from clover to clover so I left that nine square feet uncut so they could do their thing. I’ll cut it once they’re done. Not a big deal to cut the grass, as I use an old mechanical push motor. No gas or electricity needed.
At 6, we headed to the OSF Green Show to see one of our favorite local bands, The Rogue Suspects. The sun was dropping and the tempertures was sifting through the low 70s, providing a wonderful venue for enjoying music. As expect, per usual, they put on an excellent show, featuring songs from the Pointer Sisters, B-52, Journey, Huey Lewis and the News, and other bands and performers out of the last century.
Today The Neurons have “Fix You” by Coldplay going in the morning mental music stream (Trademark broken). Weirdly, I have featured this song twice before, both times in September. Must be a September song, right? Curious, I checked; released in September, 2005.
Papi drew the song into my head this morning. The other night, he was acting listless and uninterested in his food. That’s unusual for the feline known as the ginger blade. Six times out of ten, he comes in and heads right to the food bowls. Three other times, he’ll come over to me for skritches. Once, really less than one time out of ten, he’ll come in due to weather, loud noises, or something else disturbing his force, and head into the bathroom to chill.
This time, he came in and went over to a corner and settled. I took food to him. He sniffed as if interested but passed.
Okay, this is a cat who experienced a life-threatening bout with triaditis before. I informed my wife about my concerns and we made plans to keep him in overnight and keep watching him.
Later that night, he wanted out. No, I told him, not until I see you eating. I checked the food bowls put out for him: untouched.
I fed him the next morning. He showed some interest and ate a little. No vomiting, and he was acting closer to normal. A Churru was given him, and he lapped that up. After drinking water, he came to me and purred. His tail rose a bit, more like his normal self. I made him some kibble slurry — warmish water with kibble. Starting hesitantly, he lapped up most of that.
Anyway, to finish, he’s jaunting around with his tail up today, eating in his normal style, and meowing and purring per usual. Talking to him after he ate all the breakfast provided him, I told, “I’m happy we were able to fix you.” Lo, Der Neurons cranked it up.
Be strong, stay positive, lean forward, and vote blue in 2024. I’m doing the same. Coffee has been warming my innards. Time for the music, with Michael Fox joining them. Cheers
Sunshine burst in, a sumumnal morning surprise, antidote to the gray chilly dominance of the previous days. 53 F here now, the sun is expected to induce the air into the mid 70s before the world turns.
This is Wednesday, September 18, 2024.
Got our new insurance done yesterday. After doing quotes online, reading and reading and reading, and speaking with others, we ended up with State Farm. One, as some suggested, there’s a local agent. Two, they’ll provide the insurance we need at a reasonable cost. Three, in the aftermath of the huge Almeda fire several years ago, which destroyed hundreds of homes and businesses, friends raved about how well State Farm handled the situation.
That done, I called American Family Insurance to cancel. Auto insurance cancellation was an eyeblink — or, thanks for calling, have a pleasant evening. Home insurance, she thoroughly identified me and the property in question. Next, she said that she needs to bring up a script to read me. She told me she was going to record the transaction, and was I okay with it? Then she ran through a script which verified again my identification and the property and the flat fact that I was canceling my insurance with them.
I get this. It’s an age of scammers and cheats and pranks. Anyone could theoretically call in, claim to be me, and cancel my insurance. They could do it just to be assholes. Anyway, the company was protecting itself. But it also protects me.
When I finished, I felt like comfort food was in order. Lot of stress and anxiety in researching insurance and making that change and the multiple decisions involved in prices, coverage, and options. It’s serious adulting. But the comfort food was skipped. Sitting there, reflecting as we went through it, I compared it to how it was when I was younger. When income was less and savings were thinner.
The agent remarked on our history. Almost twenty years with that other company and no claims made on home or auto. Yeah, don’t jinx us, I said. Knock on wood. He found it remarkable. My wife, laughing, said it was because we’re boring. I think it’s a blend of caution and luck.
If you know anything about reading this blog, you won’t be surprised to discover that thinking about luck cause Der Neurons to start firing with songs about luck and being lucky. It abated overnight but this morning found them playing Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers in the morning mental music stream (Trademark lucky). The 1982 song, “You Got Lucky” is playing in snatches around eating, nursing coffee as it nurses me, and reading, writing, and thinking. The song is about love and relationships but as a general song about being lucky and how good luck can affect your life, it works. I’ll take good luck whenever it comes and will try to dance around the bad luck when it happens.
Stay positive, be strong, and vote blue. Just 48 days until November 5.
Michael Seidel, writer 