Tag: memories

Saturday’s Theme Music

It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood. Sunshine and blue skies. Presently on the mid side of 60 F, up from 52 F overnight, we’ll be hunting the mid 80s before the sun skirmishes with the falling night and carries us into a new day.

It’s June and Saturday, June 3, 2023, for more exactitude. The cats are loving this weather, right? Mostly out there sleeping in part shade, part sun. Seeing them out there, and I drift through memories. Tucker has always been a little strange about doors. He goes to the linen door, coat closet door, garage door, pantry door. A drawn out merow is issued. His meowing is either very loud or barely a whisper. No midpoint for him. When it’s a loud meow, he draws out the sounds and employs several syllables.

I ask, “What? You want into the <insert location here>?”

Head nod (yes, by him), mumbling mew sounds, a head tilt at the door in question, his look shooting from it to me, back to it, conveying his desire.

Head shake (yes, by me). “Okay, buddy.” Sigh. Door is opened. He heads in for investigation, sometimes dwelling in wherever for fifteen to twenty minutes. He’s old now, a long-furred black and white stray who chose to stay with us, showing up with matted fur and bad teeth almost ten years ago, I think. Need to check the histories to know with certitude. Point is, these demands have been incorporated in his behavior since his first year with us.

The Neurons planted “Happenings Ten Years Time Ago” into the morning mental music stream. 1966 Yardbirds song. Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page on lead guitars, I thought this song was so cool when I first heard it, one of those radio offerings that had me jumping for the radio and reaching for the volume knob. Never heard it much on the radio in the years since. Don’t know when I last listened to it. But this morning, walking out of dream sleep and into the other room to begin standard morning practices, the first lines broke out of memory and into conscious thought.

Meeting people on my way
Seemingly I’ve known one day
Familiarity of things
That my dreaming always brings

Happenings ten years time ago
Situations we really know
But the knowing is in the mind
Sinking deep into the well of time

h/t to AZLyrics.com

Wasn’t long after that before The Neurons delivered the song to a loop in my head. I think it’s a related-to-writing thing. I obsess over time, reality, and questions of what we know vs what happened vs what we think we know is one that in my novel writing. Memory is a mischief maker and history is written by the winners and then revised, leaving many of us floundering about it all. So here we be.

Stay pos. Coffee drinking has commenced. Big old cup is a quarter down already. Goes well with a cool summer morning on the patio, sunshine blazing down, cats washing in the green grass, jay yelling at us all from different perches as he surveys the yard and lands on chairs and trees. Could be a good day, you know?

Here’s the tune. Cheers

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There & Gone

The floof is there and then he’s gone,

And then back beside me like a remembered song.

Pleasing me with his looks and presence,

Causing me to give him treats and attention as presents.

So it goes for a number of years,

Feeding him, tending him, addressing worries and fears.

Till it comes, a day so still,

Death has finally broken his will.

And he’s not beside me because he’s gone,

Till my mind brings him back like a remembered song.

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Friday’s Theme Music

Made it to June — June, when a young man’s fancy lightly turns to — well, that depends on the young man. We’re all different you know. Some ask, “What’s love got to do with it?”

Now that I’ve reached June, I’ve set my sights on July. As was said in the military on performance reviews, “Set low goals and failed to achieve them.” A cynic’s coven, they were.

Sunrise was about 5:30 on the AM side of the day and the setting part will be on the B side after 8:30. Temperatures for the nocturnal portion dipped into the mid 40s F but we’ve strutted into the low 60s by now, making our way to the low 80s in Ashlandia. How do you describe a sky this blue, not smudge by dust, smoke, or cloud, just sun-kissed and beckoning?

This, ladies and germs, is Friday, June 2, 2023.

Re-installed the pet door last night for Papi’s use. T’was removed for the winter. Some trepidation clings to the decision. Cougar, you know, seen in these parts. Well, there are several ranging our town’s streets and yards. Wife suggested, “Put the pet door back on so that you can get some sleep.”

“Cougar?” I responded, a one word summary of the six sentences said to remind her of her worries about a cougar getting Papi.

“This will give him an escape route. He can run in through the pet door if he gets scared.”

Sure, in a perfect world, I didn’t answer. That assumes Papi lounges around the back yard, close to him, instead of chasing moonbeams around the block. It also assumes that Tucker doesn’t passive-aggressively sleeps in front of the pet door, blocking it. Whatever. I am like water.

Today’s song is a product of glancing at the TV and seeing something. That something — I don’t know what it was — prompted The Neurons to select Dire Straits and “Lady Writer” (1979) from the memory bins and play it through the night. It still plays in the morning mental music stream, a classic DS sound to me. Catchy tune, upbeat, with intriguing words. Hope it stirs something for you.

Speaking of stirring, I’m stirring to get some java. The coffee low level light is blinking, and a top-off is the cure. Stay pos and bounce into the weekend, wherever your are and doing. Here are the lads and the song.

Cheers

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Monday’s Wandering Thoughts

She entered the coffee shop, stopping by the door to peruse her phone. She resembled his younger sister so much that he studied her in depth, thinking of the similarities. Then, he realized, he wasn’t thinking of his sister as she now was, mother to two teenagers, but she’d been, fresh faced out of high school, so young and pretty.

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Sunday’s Theme Music

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

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Saturday’s Theme Music

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

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Thursday’s Theme Music

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

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

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

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Monday’s Theme Music

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.

Here’s the music. I’m off! Cheers

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Friday’s Theme Music

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.

Cheers

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