Gray marble day on this Wednesday, January 17, 2024 in Ashlandia, where the fishing is swell and the biking is above average. Temperature is 44 F. High will be 51 F. Rain is expected. We’re again dodging the severe weather hitting most of Oregon. Knock wood. Hope everyone stays safe and warm where the gnarly weather crashes in.
My friends diverted my morning plans. One went into the hospital to have her gall bladder removed. She’s sore but recovering in hospital. Her spouse is elderly — what we call the oldest old zone, or OOZ — and lives at home but has multiple health issues which have curtailed his independence. He’s still mentally willing and able; it’s just his body, specifically his lungs, skin, and muscles, declaring, nope, not today. Anyway, while she is in the hospital going through her surgery and recovery, he lost his Charter Spectrum net connection due to weather. The outage ended but his net connection returned not. So I went and hooked him back up and took care of some small matters for him.
Put me behind on the writing day, though, which severely displeased the musi (yes, that’s my plural for muses, just FYI). (I know, using musi engendered more typing and reading.) Then, just like yesterday, no room at the coffee shops. There’s a huge new demand for coffee and many patrons are then sitting with computers, like they’re writing or working or something. I guess I must suffer for my art. I also guess that I may need to move up my work hours and get out of the house and into the coffee place earlier.
“Werewolves of London” by Warren Zevon from 1978 is filling the morning mental music stream (Trademark spent). This song started out as a dedication to Tucker sitting on my lap. I frequently sing songs to my cats, who stare back in flat displeasure that I’m assaulting their ears and minds with these silly offerings. My version for Tucker was “Werefloofs of Ashlandia”. It numbers among my favorite floof songs. Getting more particular, I also sing, “Orange Boy”, for Papi, which goes, “Orange boy, orange boy, whatcha gonna do when they come for you,” and the theme song to a cartoon series from last century, “Underdog”. Of course, I sing it for the underfloofs, but the words need little changing: “Speed of lightning, meow of thunder, pawing all for their own plunder, Underfloof, Underfloof.”
Stay pos, test negative, be strong, and lean forward. I’m trying to do the same but sometimes trying is tryin’. Coffee has been consumed but I’m afraid more is needed. Heres’ the music. Cheers
I overheard two strangers chat a little in the coffee shop. One asked the other about the book he was reading. The other replied, “It’s Dostoevsky. It’s written as a series of letters.”
Poor Folk, I guess, sneaking a glance over. I’d read it, I remembered, wondering if that was the book he was reading. I took a minute to hunt down when I’d read it, remembering it was the summer of 1989, when I was living in Germany. I took summer college courses which addressed different Russian, Jewish, French, and American authors. Dosteovsky was one of three Russian writers.
Over thirty years ago, I suddenly realized with a mental thud. The race of time surprised me once again. I’ll be 68 years old this year. That just amazes me. It shouldn’t, I know, yet it does. It feels like just yesterday that I was thinking, wow, Dad is 68 this year. Gonna be seventy in a few.
Today is Thursday, January 11, 2024. Snow flew through the skies all day yesterday except for one fifteen minute period. Other than that whenever I looked out, it was coming down.
The temperature rose, though, so the snow was melting, and the plow truck had passed through multiple times, so the roads were clear. An ice danger remained in shadowy parts. Always does.
Then, three o’clock, the temperature dropped and a new snow assault began. I don’t know when it ended but we have eight inches in my area/elevation this morning. But the sun is shining, and blue skies are seeping through the thinning grey clouds, so it’s a gorgeous winter morning. Was 29 F when I got up. Now it’s 37. 44 is expected to be the upside. Rain is supposedly on its way but right now, no rain clouds are in sight.
The day started badly for me with a prolonged bout of BPPV – Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo. Basically, crystals in your ears responsible for your balance break loose and wreak havoc. Bursts of vertigo result, with nausea and vomiting. It’s more prevalent in people over sixty and more women experience it than men.
I’ve never had it before, but it came on strong. Just after midnight, as we were closing shop, I experienced sharp vertigo when I moved my head. Everything in my vision bounced around me and I thought I’d blacked out for a second because of its intensity. Asking myself, “What the fuck was that,” I observed it again and again. Meanwhile, my left ear was ringing. I began getting hot. Within seconds, sweat covered me, beading on my face. Simultaneously, a feeling was growing in my solar plexus. I thought I was getting hungry and was amused because we’d had an excellent dinner, but no; I was getting ready to refund dinner.
Feeling the vomiting sensation rising with tsunami-like intensity, I lurched for the bathroom. Vertigo crashed over me with every step. I hung onto walls and furniture, pinballing from piece to piece to stay upright. I just made it to the commode. Then violent vomiting began. My wife hurried in to get the story but I couldn’t speak, as my mouth was busy with the heaving for five minutes.
When that segment ended, I gasped out my symptoms and she charged to her computer to see what could be learned. Moving my head, I had another violent five minute session. My wife reported that she thought it was BPPV, which she’d once experienced. She also had several friends endure her, so she has so familiarity with it. With her help, I went supine to the bathroom floor. She brought me a pillow.
I didn’t want to stay on the bathroom floor. By now, my body was shaking. Deciding to try to get up, I went into another V2 – vertigo/vomiting – episode, though little was in my stomach. Didn’t matter. I simply retched and retched. Now convinced by my weakness, shaking, vertigo, and vomiting to not move, I hung onto the commode and bathtub and obeyed the illness’s commands.
My wife came in and told me about the Home Epley Maneuver to cope with BPPV. I resolved to try it but learned that any head movement fired up the vertigo, followed by puking and shaking. My body’s sharp spasms almost caused me to almost defecate in my sleepwear. I recognized that I wasn’t going anywhere for a while.
It was now 1:45; I’d been enduring this for over 100 minutes and it didn’t seem to be getting any better. I couldn’t stay where I was, I decided, because new visions of vertigo and a need for sleep fed fears of my head or mouth crashing into the porcelain surrounding me. I told my wife I needed her help to move, and outlined my plan to go to the office, and sit still in there in a chair under covers, and maybe sleep until this passed. I’d take a small waste basket with me. She came up with the idea of bringing in my wheeled-desk chair so I wouldn’t need to walk, because the vertigo and its follow-on consequences lit up with every movement.
That worked. Pulling in a second chair, my feet were elevated and the blanket put on me. Then I clutched the wastebasket to my chest and dry-heaved for a couple minutes. She went to bed and I slumbered off and on in the chair, puking a few more times. Thinking that I was tired of holding the waste basket on my chest, I eased it to the floor. That induced another round of vertigo and puking.
At 5 AM, I needed to pee. Rising and walking with the stiffness and gait Frankenstein’s monster, I took care of business but kept my head movement to a minimum. My body expressed some interest in puking but they were mild and I suppressed them. The moving actually seemed to help. My sleeping position had been uncomfortable, so I rearranged things into a more comfortable position and turned on the television for companionship, streaming some old show. No more puking was endured and sleep finally came. I didn’t wake up until 8:30 and felt much better.
I did the Epley Maneuvers a little while ago. I’m still shaky and tired, and leery of eating anything. My wife made me a smoothie for breakfast and now, here I sit, intermittently searching the net for more info about BPPV.
The Neurons, always ready with a sick sense of humor, started playing “Dizzy” by Tommy Roe from 1969 in the morning mental music stream (Trademark crashed) because of my vertibo bouts. I know the song well. My stepfather when the song came out was George. He had two daughters. The oldest one was nicknamed Dizzy, so when the song came out, she adopted it as her theme music.
Stay positive, test negative, be strong, and lean forward. No coffee yet today; just water (dehydrated this morning, for some reason) and the smoothie. Here’s the music. Cheerio
This is Sunday, January 7, 2024. It was a wintry day this morning after a 24 hours of competing precipitation. We cycled through various snow forms, slush, and pellets with fog smearing the background optics. The sun would prairie dog in to see what was happening on the ground but the air stayed chill. Looking out and seeing the situation, my wife said, “It’s good to be retired.”
Today brought us light snow in some places layered over 32 F air temp. My partner had a birthday party to attend. I’d been excused to do my thing but that plan collapsed when she saw the roads and asked if I’d go to the party. You know, so I could drive. Thus is why I’m posting late.
Good party, and worth attending, a friend, Barb, celebrating number 80. She did it right with champagne and mimosas and tables starting to splinter under the weight of food. While Barb made most, people also brought food (my wife took her five minute almond tarts, an Ashlandia favorite). (Ashlandia, where the food is above average.) To complement those food offerings, Barb also hired a crepe truck. We had choices of caprese, lemon, cinammon, or chocolate crepes made to order. With a house packed full with friends, and people coming and going from ten AM until the planned end, seven PM, how could you not but have a good time?
I went walking yesterday afternoon, enjoying the wintry ambiance. Reminded me of young years in the places where I lived where climate invited snow and ice on a regular basis — Ohio, Iowa, Pennsylvania, Virginia, Illinois, West Virginia. Breathing in cold air, same cold air scolding my skin, a little dribble out of my nostrils. Snow changes sound and light. When you’re out there alone, a sense of isolation descends. I could hear my breathing, feel my heartbeat, and entertained new thinking.
The Neurons unleashed “Good Feeling” into the mental music stream, and it carried over into today’s morning mental music stream (Trademark frozen). “Good Feeling” is by Flo Rida and was released waaayyy back in 2011. It’s good music for me for today because despite what reality might push into my face, I remain optmistic and I have a feeling things will get better. Fingers crossed. Knock on wood.
Before I close, I want to offer this for reflection: the ‘sound’ of the solar wind. Because everything isn’t about the privilge and deprivation of this world’s people. There’s something out there beyond ourselves. This ‘sound’ comes to us unnoticed every second of every minute, hour, day, month, year. Pausing to consider it offers perspective that existence is more than this planet and what we see and hear. Yes, many reply, but this is our home, and the only place where we are — well, as far as we know with our limited understanding.
Stay pos, be real, be strong, and lean forward. Coffee has been served; hurry before it runs out. Here’s the music. Feel free to sing along and rap along. Cheers
Today is Saturday, January 6, 2024. I will be thinking about Jan 6, 2021, and not fondly, along with all that’s happened since. Not posting about that man and that day here today.
Snow has joined us in Ashlandia, where the roads are white but need some repairs. I was able to sit down with Snow and chat with her a little today.
“Hi Snow, welcome back to Ashlandia.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s been a while.”
“Yes, it has, it’s good to be back.”
“Can I ask you your plans? Are you going to stay in the area for a while, or?”
“Well, I can’t say. It’s all changed. Big money controls us now. Summer and I were just discussing this with Winter the other day. They’re moving us all over the place. The schedule is hectic and crazy. We never know where we’re going to be next.”
“Well, how ’bout the immediate future? Will you stay here for the day?”
Snow slide a dark smile at me. “Honey, I honestly can’t say. The money controls the weather, and I’m subject to their whims.”
“Well, good luck to you, Snow. Thanks for coming in.”
“Oh, no, save your luck. You’re the one who’s going to need it.”
Yes, we awoke to 2024’s first snow in Ashlandia. I spotted it first at cat o’clock, when I released Papi into the silent night. Fat, slushy snow globs were falling straight down but nothing was on the ground. When I brought him back in about an hour later, snow was covering the yard and pellet like flakes were spitting from the sky. Breakfast saw traditional lazy, feathery flakes gracefully drifting down to the land. We now had an inch. Post-eating, the snow was fat but earnest pellets gliding in at an angle, adding to the accumulation.
It’s 32 F right now. 39 F will be the day’s high.
Thinking about how long it’s been since snow visited Ashlandia, The Neurons dialed up a popular staple called “It’s Been A Long, Long Time”. Many of a certain age know it as soon as those first words are sung, “Kiss me once, then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again, it’s been a long, long time.” Per Wikipedia, released in 1945, the song gained popularity when covered by Harry James and His Orchestra, with Kitty Kallen singing in her lovely voice. Mom listened to her a great deal and was a great admirer, so I heard her sing this song often. Many artists have covered it but I have the Louis Armstrong version coursing through the morning mental music stream (Trademark dusty) because I always enjoyed his style.
The snow has stopped falling and has melted off the cement and asphalt. It’s still 32 F.
Stay pos, be safe, smart, and strong, and lean forward. Coffee is making its way into my mouth and through my body. Here’s the music. Cheers
Hey ho, it’s time to celebrate. That’s right, it’s the First Thursday of the new year. More specifically, it’s January 4, 2024. Raise your cuppa coffee and toast the First Thursday. After all, it’ll never be here again.
Bleak outside, with everything doing a post-rain slow dry as a gray sky mutters by, threatening, “Want more rain? I got more if you want it.” A meek sun stays in the clouds’ background, offering little sunny warmth. 39 F now, we’re talking about a 50 F high. Snow warning in effect for chunks of several southern Oregon and northern California counties, including Ashlandia, where the drivers are below average. Snow level is dropping to 2500 feet, just a few hundred feet above my place. 2 to 3 inches of snow are suggested. Yeah, not much, but as this would be our first snow of winter, just weeks after winter officially started, we’re ready for it.
The cats are enjoying the weather. Going out there, finding a covered dry spot, one in front, the other in the house’s rear, they curl into traditional sleeping positions. As it’s not too cold and not too wet, both dismiss my offers for them to come in the house and be domesticated.
Today’s theme music was “Staying Power” by Queen from 1982. I mostly know this song from a friend. Stationed on Okinawa in the early 1980s, I would encounter him playing Queen albums in his car and home, and he really enjoyed this song. It didn’t do much for me, but the repetition planted it in my head. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it out of outside of his house or car, but I woke up with it in my morning mental music stream (Trademark complicated) today. I asked the almighty Neurons, “Dudes, why are you playing this today?” They giggled like children caught playing a silly game. Honestly, my Neurons can be so immature, which potentially explains a lot.
Then, though, The Neurons called an audible and slipped Van Halen in with “Mean Street” from 1981. Perusing the AM news was the catalyst for The Neurons’ shift; there’s an early line, something like, “I see those same ol’ faces and I hear that same ol’ talk.” That’s how the news felt in this early new year.
Alright, coffee has cometh, let us drink. Stay pos, be strong, and lean forward against the regressive wind. I’ll do the same. Here’s the music — please enjoy their colorful outfits. Sadly, it’s not ‘live’, they’re just faking it. Hell, instruments aren’t even plugged in. LOL
Today is Tuesday, Jan 2, 2024. Weather is once again tentative and indecisive, with winter insisting that it’s his turn to bat but spring like sentiments slashing in. Wind is a bubbling bruiser again, gusting to plus thirty, and clouds mar the sun’s shine across the land. Intermitten light rain is in the air as the air temperature shifts past the late forties, a solid climb from the night’s mid thirties, with more promised. ‘They’ say we’ll peak at 52 F today.
My mood is groovy because with the 2023 holidays receding into history, I’m pushing to return to my daily groove. Back in the coffee shop — for the first time this year! — I’m starting another round of editing and revising for the novel in progress.
The coffee shops are tres busy, surprising me. I’m forced out of my comfortable spaces into the secondary coffee shop and to the counter facing a window, my back to the room. I don’t mind the window; I enjoy ogling the weather changes, spying on birds, and eyeing people wandering the street. Having my back to the room and its inhabitants distracts me. Who knows what maniacs are back there on a computer or phone? Maybe one of the nursing mothers or the middle-old people with them will go crazy on us, or a barista will succomb to the pressure of brewing espresso. One never knows, and with my back to them, I’ll have little warning before I can defend myself.
Today’s song, brought out of hibernation and pressed into the morning mental music stream (Trademark limited) by The Neurons after some interesting dreams, is “Let It Bleed” by The Rolling Stones, circa 1969. I was originally unimpressed with this song because of a country and western twang to the vocals, pacing, and general mileau. But listening more to the lyrics convinced me that this was a sardonic twist on country western and the period it was then in of melancholy songs about life. While C&W was about life in a rough way, sometimes as coal miners or coal miner’s spouses, booze, or being down on your luck or someone cheating on someone, the Stones sang about emotional dependence, drugs and sex. I appreciated the song more as I age and now reflect on it with fondness. This particular rendition is a recording of a live version with Bonnie Raitt, just cause I like Bonnie.
I’m still digesting the dreams behind this choice, BTW. Don’t know what to make of being naked and having a female friend lay down on me at some training site. What’s it all mean?
Stay positive, pull forward, keep strong, and lean forward toward better days. Coffee has been tested and approved for consumption. Here’s the music. Cheers
Let’s give a warm welcome to 2024. I’ll do anything to make you happy, 2024. Well, anything legal. And it also can’t be against my principles or unethical. Or anything that will embarass me. Or anything too expensive. Other than those stipulations, I’ll do anything to make you happy, 2024. I figure if we can make you happy, you’ll make us happy. Fingers crossed that you’re a happy year. I know, the odds are against you from the stroke of midnight. But I think you can overcome it.
It’s Monday, January 1, 2024. 2024 looks a lot like its predecessor so far. Blue sky with sunshine and a glowing grand fog bank billowing in across the westward view. 38 F now, prophecies are for a high in the mid fifties. In truth, our hopes would be about receiving some snow on our mountains to build up the snowpack. It remains too thin to sustain us.
Hope you all had a new year celebration that fit your desires. Ours was on the low end, staying home, drinking nothing but water and coffee, eating a healthy Old Year’s Day meal, and then telling one another happy new year before going to bed around 12:30. It was a long way from the years where we’d dance and quaffed a few drinks before running around, doing things after midnight, shouting our accomplishments. It was all significant stuff, like, “First to pee in the new year!” “First to finish a drink in the new year! First to turn off a light in the new year. First to turn on a light in the new year.” Silly fun.
I read my friend’s blog this morning as coffee was firing up The Neurons (first to drink coffee in the new year). Jill Dennison is always a terrific read. This morning, she suggested that we start the new year with some Elton John. She provided “Sad Songs (Say So Much)”. My rascally Neurons injected “Crocodile Rock” into the morning mental music stream (Trademark delayed). Released in 1972, the song became Elton John’s first number one single in the US. Hearing it as high schoolers, we assured each other, this cat is going to be around a while.
The song’s history isn’t pure. Wikipedia notes:
The song was inspired by John’s discovery of leading Australian band Daddy Cool and their hit single “Eagle Rock“, which was the most successful Australian single of the early 1970s (with 1,000,000 sold),[5] remaining at No.1 for a record of 10 weeks.[6][7] John heard the song and the group on his 1972 Australian tour and was greatly impressed by it.[5] A photo included in the album packaging features John’s lyricist, Bernie Taupin, wearing a “Daddy Who?” promotional badge. The song also includes a lyrical reference to the 1950s hit record “Rock Around the Clock” by Bill Haley and his Comets (“While the other kids were rocking around the clock…”).
In a 1974 lawsuit filed in the US District Court of Los Angeles by attorney Donald Barnett on behalf of “Speedy Gonzales“‘ composer Buddy Kaye, it was alleged that defendants John and Taupin illegally incorporated chords from “Speedy Gonzales” which produced a falsetto tone into the “Crocodile” song co-written by defendants. The parties reached a settlement between them and the case was then dismissed.
Taupin also stated in an Esquire magazine interview that “Crocodile Rock” was a funny song in that he did not mind creating it, but it would not be something he would listen to;[8] it was simply something fun at the time. John has dismissed criticism of the song that it was “derivative”, quoted in the booklet for the 1995 reissue of Don’t Shoot Me … as saying, “I wanted it to be a record about all the things I grew up with. Of course it’s a rip-off, it’s derivative in every sense of the word.”
Such drama for such a quaint song.
Stay pos, be strong, and have an outstanding 2024. I’m just finishing up with the first cup of 2024 coffee. In with the new, right? Here’s the music. Cheers
46 F and light rain now, but Wednesday, December 27, 2023, began with a windy assault that took over all the trash receptacles put out for pick up, and a steady rain thrashing us through the night and morning in Ashlandia, where folks are mostly friendly, and the food tastes almost above average. BTW, 46 F is today’s high.
Tucker didn’t mind the rain, closing his mind and eyes against what was happening outside, and remaining inside, a wise approach to handling it. Papi, though, insisted on trying the outer realm, soaking his fur. “How dare you!” he meowed at the world after beating on the window and returning inside. A brief pause by my side so that I could pet and admire him, and then he was off to the kibble bowl to scarf.
A friend’s holiday letter had this paragraph, and I found it cute, humorous, and even inspiring, so I thought it should be shared. Note: Pam is her daughter and is five years older than me.
“Pam managed to get 95 balloons to come sailing into her dining room while we were having my birthday dinner celebration in October. What a riot that was! She personally blew up 35 of them before she ran out of air and wisely got help! We batted one red balloon around the table exactly 95 times before it hit the floor. Great fun!”
A retired dancer and teacher, she’s a sweet and terrific character and wonderful friend, as is Pam, and Pam’s children. Nice to know such people.
The Neurons dumped “Katmandu” by Bob Seger into the morning mental music stream (Trademark dissolved) as I made the bed this morning. Not a bad song at all, but I have no idea what they were thinking when they began playing the song. However, when I saw the holiday letter again on my office desk and read again the tale about the birthday balloons, I issued a veto override and went with “99 Red Balloons” by Nena from 1984. Hah, take that, Neurons.
Stay pos, test negative, be strong, and lean forward. Coffee levels are being replenished as I type. Here’s the music. Cheers
It’s Tuesday, December 26, 2023. 39 F outside, it’s almost Christmas cold. Clouds and sunshine are rotating through influences. One moment, it’s a bright shiny day and you stand at the window and stare out at blue. Not pretty out there, a little sodden, with faded grasses and bare trees except for the conifers. Then clouds swing back in, dulling it all more in its appearance, and quickly dropping a chill on the space. High will be 54 F. Precipitation isn’t predicted.
Most of the holidays are past but now the herd wheels toward the largest, most universally regarded holiday: New Year. People plan a party, a celebration to last throughout the year. Or they seek a humble day of new beginnings. Resolutions are made, dreams and hopes addressed again, and vows are given, sometimes privately, about how the next year will be different. Thoughts turn to everything pending, and the things on the world agenda, and how they might unfold. Sighs are released like the wind whispering with the first notes of an incoming storm.
The cats stayed in and curled up, sweet as cats can be, and less distrustful and threatening to one another.
Our Christmas was low key. Just my wife and I at home. Very relaxing and enjoyable for me. I mostly read and stayed off net most of the day. Did watch parts of two football games. Also watched “Hogfather” because she said she’d never seen it. We had croissants and fruit for breakfast. I made our roasted root veggies soup in the afternoon and we ate about five. I also texted with little sister #2 several times, tracking activities and the state of things.
Heard from sis, though, that another sister and her hubby’s COVID is terrible and that it has been passed on to two other family members.
Musically, I was thinking about change, and The Neurons offered up David Bowie and “Modern Love” from 1983 into the morning mental music stream (Trademark traded). I thought, why that? Tracing back over my thought pattern, I recognized that I’d used but things don’t really change. Bowie incorporates that: “I catch the paper boy but things don’t really change. I’m standing in the wind.” I always thought the last line there was about standing in the winds of change, but that’s just me.
Stay pos, test neg, be strong, and move forward. The coffee fuel is being loaded; countdown has begun. In three…two…
Michael Seidel, writer 