Stopped by Starbucks yesterday to meet a friend. They had a big display up celebrating twenty years of the pumpkin spice flavor. I remembered the first time I ever had one. My wife and I lived in Half Moon Bay, California. Relatives from the eastern US were visiting. An oddly chilly, damp day, we went to the Tech Museum in San Jose. Not far away was a Starbucks. We walked to it to get a hot coffee drink and on a whim, several of us had pumpkin spice lattes. The flavor surprised and impressed me.
But they or I changed in the intervening time. I had a sampler they’d put up; after a sip, the tastebuds said, “Oh, god, no.” I tossed it.
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
Might as well call this Smokeday. It’s August 18, 2023. The air in Ashlandia, where the roads are wide and the sidewalks are numerous, has gone into the trashcan. Yesterday, Purple Air showed the air quality jumping into the hazardous range and lurking there for the night’s entirety. Today finds it still mostly in the hazardous or unhealthy zones. We’ve gone all Twilight Zone apocalypse out there, with the mountains hidden behind he dirty air and no view of the valley. We could be the last island of civilization, if this view is the guide.
We’d been hoping we’d miss the smoky air this year. So far, we had done well, but lightning lit up the Klamath complex southwest of us, and its smoke drops a pall over the region. The fire centers on Happy Camp, which was also the source of our 2014 nasty air.
In good news, we’ve dropped out of the high temperatures. 72 F now, today’s high end is believed to be 92 F but I postulate that this thick smoke will keep us from reaching that high. Winds are from the east, clearing the smoke out right now. Sunshine has cleared its way after a long red dawn morning. It’s raining on the coast, which will put some moisture in the air around Happy Camp. That keeps us hope that the fire won’t be around into November.
The cats aren’t pleased with the smoke, as we’re keeping them in. Tucker the elder is fine with it but Papi issued declarations that staying in was not in his bucket list. He mostly makes his home in the master bath, with its cool and quiet, I suppose, and no one can slip up on him without being sighted. I’m thinking of Tucker in that, who gets passive-aggressive at times, and outright aggressive at others. TC is being mellow, though, but already a little under the weather with some respiratory issues brought on by the smoke. I’ll give him some Lysine L, which generally helps him deal.
Songwise, I have Croce in the morning mental music stream (Trademark worthy). Jim Croce arrived there after a convo in which someone said, “You just don’t do that.” My Neurons leaped into action, adding, “You don’t pull on Superman’s cape, you don’t spit into the wind, you don’t pull the mask off the ol’ Lone Ranger, and you don’t mess around with Jim.” So here we are with “You Don’t Mess Around With Jim”, some fun story-telling music from Jim Croce and 1972.
Time to coffee up and face the day. Be strong, stay pos, and don’t get sucked into the vortex of negativity. Here’s the music. Cheers
The arrival board clicked; yes, Monday had arrived on schedule and was pulling into gate 8/14/2023.
It’s hot in Ashlandia, 84 F at 9:45, heading for 105 today. Cooled down to 70 during the night but it was a late cool down and the sun cracked the whip on the heat as soon as it showed up.
Spend a pleasant day yesterday away from Ashlandia, where the businesses are average and the tourists are good-looking. Went to Jacksonville, a thirty-five minute drive via highway and country roads. Bon voyage party for friends, who are moving to Spain. They’ve been planning it for years, and have lived a few months at a time in the past few years. Now they’re awaiting their visas and putting their stuff in storage, and doing the paperwork through a lawyer to ensure everything is properly accomplished regarding health insurance, etc.
We met them in 2005, just after moving to Ashland. The mechanism was the Y exercise class. My wife, who enjoys exercising, joined the Family Y and began attending that class every M-W-F, and met the woman, Linda. Coffee, lunches, shopping adventures, book clubs, and going out for dancing so followed. Linda and her hubby are terrifically social, friendly, happy people. They always had something going on, and they just started including us.
The Neurons ended up lifting good-bye songs from the grey matter on the drive home. Simple Minds carry the morning mental music stream with “Don’t You Forget About Me” from 1985.
Well, gonna go do yardwork before it gets too hot, than off to write. Shoot down a cuppa coffee first. Stay pos, be strong, remain sane. Here we go. Cheers
We’re about to rock Thursday, August 10, 2023 — or is it about to rock us?
It’s a comfortable morning in Ashlandia, where the children are young and the parents are hopeful. 70 F and sunny now, 91 is on the books as the expected high. Relative humidity is hovering around 41%. Mild breezes carry mountain chills into the valley as the sun’s heat starts taking over.
My thoughts are with Hawaii today. The photos, videos, and tales emerging from the islands are saddening, soul-killing. Hawaii for me was a beautiful exotic place to visit, almost like paradise. It’s painful to think of those wonderful people and lands burning. Not too much different from what it was like to see Italy burning, Spain, California, Australia, and other places around the world in the last few years. Whether Hawaii’s disaster is linked to climate change, I don’t know. Fires do happen but so many devastating fires and disasters have been witnessed in the last ten years, the tension of impending collapse feels like it’s increasing. There is evidence that climate change is happening, and accelerating. For us not to try to mitigate what we can is such a depressing, defeatist, and selfish attitude that my dismay rises to disbelief. That so often the excuse for not doing something is that it will be bad for business is appalling.
I paused for a bit to remember the many places I visited and how fortunate I was to have visited them. Too often I forget how privileged I’ve been and am. It’s a side effect of privilege, one of several, that you ended up taking these things for granted.
The Neurons plucked “The Best of Times” by Styx out of the mental repository. It’s playing full tilt in the morning mental music stream (Trademark uncertain), brought on by the lyrics, “Rumor has it, it’s the end of paradise.” So often when we look back, we have a moment that we think of as the best of times. Those are generated by relativities of who you are, where you were, your expectations and disappointments, really, your reality. I think about future generations and what they’ll look back upon, and wonder. Fortunately, beyond the broader landscape of existence, people have their own bubbles of being. It’s in there where we take comfort as we can, and stock hope for something better.
Time for coffee, or as I dub it, ‘coffee time’ (trademark rejected). Say positive and hopeful, even optimistic, and let’s keep moving forward. Peace out, as they used to say.
Salutations, and welcome to Saturday in Ashlandia, where the growers’ market is open and the coffee is brewing. It’s the 5 of August, 2023. We’re feasting on the cool mountain air and the remnants of the night’s chill offerings. Just 70 F at the moment, today’s high will gallop up to the low nineties. Air quality has been an off and on issue as the wind and fronts deliver wildfire smoke to the valley. It’s clear now, the and skies are not cloudy.
I asked Bing’s AI app yesterday, “Where is the smoke in Ashland, Oregon, coming from?” The AI’s answer really impressed me. It said, “It can be coming from anywhere.” It then went into a history of fires and smoke from previous years. I’m really worried about AI taking over. It’s gonna drive us all crazy with non-sensical answers and then slide into control after we’re all babbling idiots. Some of us are already pretty close to that edge.
Stampeded by dreams last night. The most vivid and everlasting was one in which I realized there was a serial killer. Nobody else was aware. That annoyed me, so I tracked down the serial killer and stopped him. Not sure how that last was done. Seemed to be off the dream stage. But I came back and told everyone else about the serial killer and stopping him without specifying why. I finished by informing them, “Now we can move on and get things done.”
Out of that, The Neurons inserted “Bette Davis Eyes” (1981) by Kim Carnes into the morning mental music stream (trademark insanity). It was a big song that year. In May of ’81 we moved from San Antonio, Texas to Okinawa, Japan, as part of my military service, and that song was being played everywhere. As the song looped through my head today, bringing back memories of those days, and I fed the cats, dressed, and made brekkie and coffee, I demanded of Les Neurons, “Why that song?” They smugly replied, “You know why.” I think they’re in cahoots with the AI to drive me nuts.
Stay positive, be strong, and persist. The coffee has already been sampled and I can assure you, it’s the real deal. Here’s the music. Cheers
To begin this day, once upon a time in Ashlandia — actually, we can be more specific. To begin this day, once upon Thursday, July 27, 2023, in Ashlandia, where the dogs and the deer struggle to get along and both avoid the bears, there were two cats named Papi and Tucker. Sorry, that’s all I have.
A cool 68 F air holds sway in our dominion. 88 F is the anticipated high for the day, continuing Ashlandia’s trend for a mellow, less heated summer, knock on wood (I use my head as a substitute, when called for). While my weather system shows two days over triple diggies have been reached this year, the official records say, nope, hasn’t happened. Three fires — Bedrock, Golden, and Flat — continue burning, contributing their smoke to our fresh air, but it’s not been much of a factor thus far, knock head. Hope the dedicated firefighters can get them contained and done soon. Bet they’re hoping the same. Hard life, fighting wildfires, according to five friends who did or do it for their employment.
Not much on the agenda for the moment, which is superfine, yeah? A dream inspired The Neurons (motto: “We don’t know and we don’t care”) to upload “Say You, Say Me” by Lionel Richie, 1985 to the morning mental music stream (trademark laughable). He was The Man for romantic music in the 1980s, and his album, Can’t Slow Down, was huge. We were living in Columbia, SC, at that time while I was stationed at Shaw AFB, but I was traveling a lot, mostly to Africa, but also to Europe and Florida. It’s just an association, you know? “Say You, Say Me” and the 1985 travels.
Time to start up and go. The Neurons have now begun “Kickstart My Heart” by Mötley Crüe (1989 – livin’ in Germany then) in the morning mental music stream. So it goes. Stay pos, be strong, remain hopeful and optimistic, and persist. Ah, there’s my coffee. Here is the music. Cheers, my friends.
It was something about the stuff in this drawer. It’s just –
I’ve never had any real use for this drawer. It was, you know…extra. So I started putting things in it. Odd stuff. All this was supposed to be temporary but a lot of it’s been in here for years. I don’t know what it’s all from. Screws leftover from things I installed. Never like to throw away screws. Never know when you’ll need a screw just like this one. Screwdriver, of course. I was looking for that. It’s supposed to be in my tool box. Or these pens. Old gum. Gum’s probably been in here ten years. Trident. My wife liked chewing it, so I kept some on hand for her. Don’t need it now. Cat toys. Don’t need that, either. Last cat I had was Jury. Big black cat. Sweetest animal you’ll ever meet. He died…how long ago was that? Shoelaces. A stone. I can almost remember why I kept this little stone. Look at it. Strange blue. Round, almost oval.
Everything in here was part of a moment. It all meant something to me when I put it in here. I can’t remember any of it.
I can’t even remember what it was that I wanted to tell you. I don’t even recall why I wanted to speak.
Let me introduce you. This is Monday, July 24, 2023. It’s a day which can really help you. You should get to know it.
Today’s weather in Ashlandia, where the cost of living is high and the less-fortunate struggle, finds the air stopping at 88 F. It’s 64 F, and I’ll tell you, brothers and sisters, that cool air feels so good to my skin. Goes well with hot coffee. Yes, I’ve already started downing a cup.
Smoke finally reached us in a serious manner last night. Kicked our AQI into unhealthy levels and was a stench in the air. Shut offended windows. Fortunately, not all required they be closed. Just the northern and western in our arc of Ashlandia.
The Neurons have planted “Secret Agent Man” by Johnny Rivers from the mid-sixties in the morning mental music stream (trademark dangerous). Secret Agent was a television show of the time in the US, a rebooted version of the Brit show, Danger Man. SA starred Patrick McGoohan. I wasn’t a huge fan that I recall, but I remember several extended family members would put it on when we were at Grandma & Grandpa’s house, and I’d watch. My preferred spy show was The Man from U.N.C.L.E. I adopted that in a big way.
Anyway, “Secret Agent Man” is in my stream because I started singing it to my cat. Floofurally, my version was “Secret Agent Floof”. This was dedicated to Papi because after he ate today, I’d find him peering around corners. When I said his name or went to visit with him, he’d galloped away on a mission, only to return a short time later. Ah, floof games in the morning.
So, I have my coffee, and I’m drinking it. You can have some of your own if you wish. Or something else. Whatever works for you, within the bounds of — well, you know the bounds. Don’t go out of bounds. Stay pos and strong, and don’t let the world’s multiple messes undercut your spirit. You can do this.
Here’s the music. Sound and pic sync is a little off. Tech. What can I say? Cheers
Welcome back to Ashlandia, where the men are fit and the women are fitter.
It’s Thursday, July 20, 2023. In brief, it’s 69, clear but smoky, with a high in the upper 90s, depending on how much smoke rolls in. We’re in the yellow zone of the AQI’s spectrum about how healthy the air is. I’m trying to figure out whether this smoke is coming up from California or over from the Flat fire in Agnes, Oregon. Might be both.
Today’s music is “Tomorrow Never Knows” by the Beatles, 1966. When I first heard it as a teenager, I was ‘interested’ in its sounds. It was later, while reading the Tibetan Book of the Dead that the song grew more enticing. That took place during my mysticism exploration era, which roughly began when I was nineteen and stationed with the military in the Philippines, and lasted a few years. Never took LSD, but I was instructed in transcendental meditation and meditated each day for over a decade.
I haven’t heard this song in a long time, at least twenty years, I think. Came about today I think because Les Neurons caught me thinking about the beginning of different things. That brought about that long period of the song when Lennon is singing, “in the beginning, in the beginning.” Next thing I know, it’s playing in the morning mental music stream (trademark pretended).
Stay as positive and strong as you can. I can it can sometimes feel like work. Sometimes, it is work, I think. Hopefully, good will come to you from being positive, strong, and shall we add optimistic? I’ve had some coffee, so, sure, let’s through optimistic in there.
Okay, ready? Three…two…one…let’s begin with your mantra. Ooommm. Here’s the music. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 