Received some rain and thunder boomers yesterday afternoon. The house floofs took it in different ways. Tucker was all mellow, like, stop that noise, I’m trying to sleep. Papi came in and found a secure place beside me, remaining there, quiet and awake, until it was all over.
It’s Sunday, May 28, 2023. Spring pressed the rain button for Ashlandia one more time for today. Oh, the smell yesterday and this morning was wonderfully fresh, a restorative tonic for my senses. Clouds rule as far as my vision takes in. 64 now, we’ll be peeking into the mid to upper seventies by mid-afternoon, the weather jockeys say.
I was conversing with myself about a dream and its meaning, chuckling at a clear cliché which had been used. I scoffed at my dream manager. “Well, that’s not original.” Liking that, The Neurons kicked off “Come Original” by 311 from the turn of last century. I’d not heard the song in eons that I recall but then wondered, did I hear it somewhere in the background? Who knows with the mind, hey?
I’ve had brekkie, and some coffee. Time to launch the day in a serious way. Stay pos, yo? Here’s 311. Cheers
Pop quiz, students. It’s Saturday, May 27, 2023 in Ashlandia. Which of these things are not true:
a. Cloudy
b. Spring
c. High will be 78 F
d. Currently 61 F
e. All are true.
That’s right, it’s e in Ashlandia, although there is no e in Ashlandia.
My wife was worried about the cougar getting Papi last night. See, two nights ago, I called Papi in about elevenish. Dude was in his patio condo, but the cat was acting peculiar. Moving slow. Careful. Tail down. Like it was the anti-Papi, doing the opposite of the guy’s usual demeanor. I worried about his health. He usually comes in, gallops across the floor, talks to me, gets some lovin’, and eats. None of that happened, so I prepared him some cat food warm with hot water. Although interested, he showed no great enthusiasm. I coaxed him to his eating site, and he ate it all up. That’s good, right?
But he stayed silent and in. Talking with the other half, she suggested the cougar was seen or maybe Papi escaped something and had a close call. She really thought it was related to the cougar. Papi stayed in that night until dawn. Well, by midday, Papi was his ush, galloping about, tail up, chatting and eatin’.
Back to last night. “I want to keep him in,” she said. “I don’t want the cougar getting him.” So Papi was forced to remain inside. Verily, he was unpleased, talking to me about it in various tones throughout the night. Finally let him out at 6:45 AM, after sunrise. Not a good night sleep for me. Coffee is needed.
Interesting dreams, though. Still reviewing them. Many small dreams, tiny as webisodes.
Tina Turner’s death has The Neurons stuck back in time. Today we’re revisiting “We Are The World” from 1985 in the morning mental music stream. Written by Michael Jackson and Lionel Richie, it was a charity single to raise money for famine relief in Africa. Had a who’s who of the United States pop culture stars at that time performing on it, and it was all captured on video. Forty-five pop stars were on hand; fifty were turned away. A few who were invited didn’t show.
Tina Turner was back in the spotlight in a big way, then, so she’s an early featured soloist. Anyway, that’s today’s song. Point after: I’d wondered how many of the performers have now passed away. Someone had already done the research for me. Tina was number ten. Not surprising. Song was done in 1985, after all. Thirty-eight years ago. Many of the performers were already middle-aged.
Side note: I was in Africa that year, participating in an exercise in Egypt’s desert for a month.
Stay pos, enjoy this day and make it memorable by having fun and getting it done, number one. Here’s the retro tune. Cheers
Hello! Is anybody out there? Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone at all?
Today is the 25th and the last Thursday of May, 2023. Next Thursday will be the first day of June, 2023. Schools are preparing to wrap up the year and shut down for the summer in the northern latitudes. Solstice is creeping up.
But spring continues to rule in Ashlandia. It’s 54 F now and sunny under a cloudless blue sky. The day is heating up in a lazy, spring-like way. High will be about 77 F, weatherists claim. I believe ’em. Sunrise was at 5:39 AM and sunset is predicted to be 8:36 PM, providing us with a lot of daylight hours.
I have a Dire Straits song in mind today. See, it’s because Tina Turner died on Wednesday, which was yesterday. My generation, or at least my tribe, were fond of her. Her energy, skills, and talents impressed us. We enjoyed her singing, performing, and acting. After breaking up with her hubby, who was her musical partner, she struck out as a solo act. It took some years but she made it. One of her big comeback hits was “Private Dancer”.
Mark Knopfler of Dire Straits wrote “Private Dancer”. He even sang and produced it for the band’s next album but then he pulled it. He though a woman should be singing it. Eventually, through Tina and Mark’s managers, she recorded the song.
That’s a recap of an often told tale. After reading it again and remembering Tina and her career, The Neurons guided me back to Dire Straits. I find myself with “So Far Away” from 1985 stuck in the morning mental stream. It’s one of those songs I heard in my head after it came out and I was traveling around on my own, first in the military, then in marketing as a civilian. More than physical distance, the song is about emotional distant, and the situation, how the two people seem so different that the gap between them never closes.
Stay pos. Have some fresh coffee, if that’s your bent. It is mine. Here we go. Cheers
We got rock. And coffee. Day is looking good so far.
Spring is holding onto Ashlandia. Up to 54 F now on this Thursday, May 24, 2023, with the weather dregs insisting that the mid to upper 70s is possible today. Well, a blue sky has shown up. Sunshine is plentiful. Wind has stilled and smells less like winter. Maybe we’ll see those temps. Wonderful walking weather or working outside until it’s dark weather.
Still snow up on the crests around us. That doesn’t mean much. Between altitude, latitude, and longitude, they’re in a different micro-clime. Same if you drive up or down the road more than four miles.
I enjoy the long days of sunlight. Looking forward to and not looking forward to summer solstice. Exciting ’bout it because, hey, summer is here! Carries a load of popular memories and high expectations based on who I was and what used to happen in the summer. But as an established adult, summer arrival ushers in the shrinking of the daylight. The reversal begins. Not right away, but the days will grow shorter. Sunset will arrive a little earlier. Sunrise starts poking in a little later. Ah, c’est le vie.
So I have the patio door-rescreened. Everything is cleaned up, re-installed, looking good. I’m pleased. What mesmerizes me are the floof reactions. They cannot simply walk past the new screen and in through the cleaned frame et al. They must stop and in-teeennntttly sniff it all down. Not just once. Several times. The looks on their faces when they do. They become thoughtful. “What is this? What happened to the smells from the previous residents?”
Part of the reason the screen became so torn up and the area a little dirtier than approved is that I’d installed a cat door there. That’s removed now. But with something like the cat door, I had to pause to remember when it was bought and all the felines that graced it with their feet and fur as they passed through. So many different styles. The criminal type, carefully sneaking in, lifting one corner first, peering in, not making a sound. The blasters, charging through like they’re bursting through a defensive line. Oh, and the undecided, entering half way to stop and look around like they’re realizing, that’s not the door to Narnia. A small subset of the tail-placers existed, too, the cat which would enter or leave, but stop just on the other side, leaving their tail in the other side. Such sweeties and lovelies, all, and so missed with their unique personalities.
The Neurons brought up a 1983 song by Simple Minds, “Waterfront”. This was wholly due to Papi the ginger zing. He tapped on the slider for entrance. When he came in, I discovered him soaked. “Is it raining?” I asked. His reply was to sweep against my legs in a full circle, wetting my calves, and then head for a kibble bowl. So I went out to look. No rain. Must’ve been a sprinkler.
But The Neurons were busy by then, singing “Come in, get out of the rain.” The whole course of the song began seconds later and remain full-throated in the morning mental music stream experience. You know, when I first heard this song back in the day, I thought it was a new song from Tears for Fears. It has that beat. Could be right out of “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” to me.
Stay pos and you do you and I’ll do me. Been drinking the coffee, doing me. Off to do other me things now. Here’s the music. Cheers
It’s a little before 8 AM. It was already light as a cloudy day by 5 AM as the sunrise cruises closer to 5:30 AM. Floofs are fed Breakfast is et. 68 F outside, sunny, humidity of 54%, light breeze, warm but cool. Today’s high will be 83F. We did reach 93 in moi’s yard yesterday. It’s May 15, 2023. Under pretense of reminding me, my wife reminds herself, the guest room window will be replaced tomorrow, 3 PM. The guy, Chris, came 30 minutes early last time, so be ready 30 minutes early. Right, got it, I answer, once, twice, thrice, half-listening as I read.
The coffee has been poured. French roast. Smells woody, earthy, wonderful. Went onto the sun soaked back patio and sniffed it a bit as the breeze played and the cats washed.
I took a magnesium citrate this morning. Calf cramps, you know, walking, exercising, yard work, sweating. The Neurons immediately began playing “White Rabbit” by a group called Jefferson Airplane. Coming out in 1967, this psychedelic song worried Mom about what her eleven-year-old son was hearing.
The first sip of coffee has been sampled. As good as expected. Ready for more.
Stay pos. Carpe Monday. Time to imbibe more coffee. Maybe do the Wordle. Or shower and clean up. Or read? No, wait, today is food and friends deliveries.
56 degrees F at this moment. Expecting the mid to upper 80s before the sun’s Ashlandia sojourn ends. It’s Friday, My 12, 2023.
Today’s heat is a prelude to a week of it. What irritates about many of these weather changes is how it jumps into hot weather and collapses into chilly weather with little warning. Why can’t we hit the middle ground and stay there for a while.
I know, I whine a lot. Everyone complains about the weather but nobody does anything. I said it here first…
I’m feeling better in a psyche way today. Dropped some anxiety and stress. I naturally gravitate to being those things although I’m weirdly known for being calm in an emergency. Three things resolved that were affecting my stress and anxiety. Got my retired military ID — now known as a an Identification and Privilege Card — issued at last. Been trying for almost a year. Picture looks pretty good, too. Look like a sea captain in it.
Second, first annual physical since I passed 65 years old. Hell, first annual physical in a looonnnggg time. Nothing untoward discovered. As part of my general hypertension, I suffer white coat syndrome. Getting the appointment out of the way was a relief although they IMMEDIATELY scheduled one for next year, so I’ve got THAT to worry about.
Third, sadly but painfully true, is that the death watch for Uncle Bill is over. Reminders of immortality, sadness about changes, another milestone in growing older all seen and felt with one strike.
I was watching my boy, Papi, an aloof ginger floof, as he watched the street traffic yesterday. He can’t help but get into a position to see what is making that noise? What is coming? Then, as the noise-maker closes in — runner, biker, walker — with or without dog — street cleaner, he turns and flees to the porch’s safety, hides behind a post and leans around, continue to watch. If he sees me watching, he comes over to be let in, and then walks around the house demanded to be let outside. The back door is open this morning, letting him come and go.
Weird song The Neurons thrust into the morning mental music stream. From 1967, it’s called “Tin Soldier” by Small Faces (not to be confused with “One Tin Soldier”, which is a totally different song). The roots to hearing it today aren’t clear. Although I had disturbing dreams, I can’t pinpoint anything from them which would call the song out. My best guess is that the mid to late 1960s was time spent around Uncle Bill, so the The Neurons expanded the sphere, bringing this song in.
Stay pos, if you can. Can be difficult, I understand. I think a cuppa coffee is in order for me now. Let the pouring commence. Here’s Small Faces. See you on the flipside.
Well, the sky is blue and ripe with sunshine. It’s fine weather, even though Uncle Bill passed away at midnight last night. Heart failure. He was a good person and being related to him is an honor. Not much else I can but celebrate his life and go on.
It’s 62 F right now. 75 F is expected later today, 80 Friday, 90 — some say 97 — an Saturday, kicking off a week of temperatures dancing between highs in the upper 80s to mid 90s. Appears summer is crowding into May. This is May 11, 2023.
It’s also my older sister’s birthday. Happy b’day, sister! She’s two years older than me and about eight inches shorter, and I’m only 5’8″. She’s a grandma several times over and living the life in a suburb outside of Atlanta, Georgia.
Learning of Uncle Bill’s end of life encouraged The Neurons with a 1986 Phil Collins song, “Take Me Home”. I may not be alone in this, but I’d loved to be back in that time when I regularly saw Uncle Bill, and he was young, and I was younger, and both of had forever ahead of us. Death is natural and regular, but always stirs memories up from the well’s bottom and yearning for the times and places I most enjoyed.
On a lighter note, got my new military ID today. Yes, I’m retired, but the card ‘expired’ when I turned 65, something put in place to force retirees to sign up for Medicare, which becomes the primary healthcare for vets of a certain era. Getting the card is hard. Limited places to get it in Oregon. Local Medford guard unit provides walk-in service. Well, that’s easy, isn’t it? No. The onerous system complicates matters. People line up, waiting to get in, as he goes through the process of connecting, entering data, verifying info, registering fingerprints, taking the photo, and then finally printing out the new card and verifying that its chip works. Today was my ninth visit to get ‘er done. Tried too, when I was in PA last year, where they are by appointment only. No appointments were available at any of the three nearby sites. Morgan, the infantry man who mans the office, shared several horror stories about people’s efforts to get a new card. Congratulations to him, too, who is retiring after twenty, but staying on to do the same job as a civilian. He seems pretty pleased.
Have some coffee and stay pos. Enjoy your life and forge ahead as you can. Here’s the music. Cheers
Mom was always home, the location which held his heart. Though she moved several times since he left home when he was fifteen and ended up living with his father, just returned from military service in Germany.
Keeping up with Mom was a challenge. New locations, new husbands, boyfriends, new jobs. She went back to school, got her GED. It’d been her secret that she hadn’t graduated high school. Then, nursing school, and the nursing profession, which she loved. By then she was in her late forties. She finally gained the independence sought, and bought a home for herself.
Keeping up for many years was cards, letters, phone calls. He only heard from her on holidays and birthdays. He initiated all else. Then email became popular. Now it’s text messages. Through it all she was the same but changed.
Using my keen powers of deduction, I observed that yesterday was Tuesday. Therefore, today must be Wednesday.
I reported my results to the chief. She downed whisky-infused black coffee that was probably brewed before the first Gemini rocket launch and gave me a gimlet eye. “Not bad, rookie.”
Today is Wednesday, 5/3/2023. The temperature God is blessing us with a 47 F temperature. The rain God is misting us off and off, while the sun God winks in and out behind the cloud God’s offerings. “We expect it to reach 65 today,” a weather dude tells me on the QT. A little after six bells was rung, the sun rolled over Ashlandia’s horizon albeit beyond a cloud wall. We’ll hear eight bells in the evening before the sun lives us in her wake.
The felines have been fed, and approve of their morning meal. It’s a wet meal enlivened with a few tablespoons of warm water. They love the combo. Tucker’s repast includes his meds. In fact, that’s how the warm morning meal was established, by medicating previous cats who needed meds but battled taking them.
Gordon Lightfoot passed this week. The Canadian musician/singer/songwriter’s end of life probably isn’t news to you, but the knowledge was swirling around in my thoughts, along with weather observations, so The Neurons spooned “Early Morning Rain” by GL into my morning mental music stream. A vote was taken with the cats and it was chosen as today’s theme music.
Coffee is almost done as I’m behind schedule this morning, a victim of helping a friend. Stay pos, and be the master of your domain. Here’s the music.
No snow! Again. It’s like days in a row. The weather at last feels like an Ashlandia spring. We’ll pop up to 80 F today. Low in the bottom 40s. Sunrise quarter past six. Sunset after eight in the evening. This is what Daddy likes.
It’s April 26, 2023. Sad news that ispace lost contact with Hakuto-R. Latest theory they’ve put out is it unexpectedly accelerated and crashed on the moon while attempting its approach. Back to the drawing boards.
I’ve always been a proponent of exploring space and trying to reach other planets. Curiosity of what’s out there drives me. I know, many argue that we’re already screwing up Earth and have demonstrated ourselves to be poor caretakers of our home planet, so why should we ‘be allowed’ to go somewhere else. Also, space exploration is a little pricy. Cost more than my annual coffee budget. And we have so many problems in our society, unintended consequences of systems, practices, laws and technology. So much we have here we need to fix.
But I’m an optimist. I hope that going to space more will lift our spirits and encourage us to change. I know, I know but space travel and exploration opens possibilities, and fires hope and optimism. Of course my background is white male. American, sure of food and shelter. I know in an intellectual way that it’s way different for others in ways that I struggle to fully imagine and comprehend. I try. I try to empathize and sympathize and help. And I want for others to have at least the levels of comfort, security, access to equity, and opportunities that I’ve experienced.
Had a plethora of dreams again. Some involved Dad and painting. I’ll explore that more, I think.
Thoughts of space impelled Les Neurons to fire up “Rocket Man” by Elton John and Bernie Taupin 1972. Found a lovely video of John in concert with the song in 1972. Just fifty plus years ago, hey?
Stay pos and don’t let your fuse burn out. I’ve got some coffee if you need it. Maybe we can pass the cup.
Michael Seidel, writer 