Tag: military

Monday’s Theme Music

Mood: metcoffeetized

Another Monday begins its stay, we can’t have it any other way. Sold in code, set in stone, Monday, Monday is how the day is known.

It’s also July 8, 2024. Over half the year gone, and what have we learned?

Today’s high is expected to be 108, about a forty degree climb from where we’re at right now. Yesterday topped off at 105 F at my homestead. So on the one hand, it reached only 105 F yesterday and the temperature began dropping, um, ‘rapidly’ at about six. It’s a relative thing, saying ‘rapidly’. I took it as a welcomed change but then saw an orange sunset painting the blinds. Hmmm, said The Neurons, we had a clear sky so why is the sunset now that color?

Particulates, of course. Wildfire smoke, of course. So the smoke cooled the air by blocking the sun with its pollution. But there’s a fire to worry about. A mixed bag, as they say.

This wildifre is known as the Salt Creek fire. One of three locally experienced fires over the past several dsay, the other two were contained and extinguished. Here’s an explaination about the situation out of the morning’s update on Salt Creek:

Fire activity naturally decreased last night when the sun went down and temperatures dropped. With this advantage, resources overnight were able to put in a mix of bulldozer and hand line constructed with tools along the entire northern portion, as well as the southwest border of the fire. The eastern and southeastern portion remain largely unlined and will be the focus of Monday’s day shift. Today, 321 personnel are assigned to the fire, including 12 20-person crews, nine engines, 10 water tenders, seven bulldozers, and six tree fallers. Snags, or hazard trees, are present throughout the fire and may fall unexpectedly. This, along with steep terrain and hot conditions are hazards for firefighters on the line today. Aircraft will be heavily used again today as soon as possible, including one Type 3, two Type 2 and three Type 1 helicopters that are exclusively assigned to this incident. Air tankers will be ordered again as needed.

The Salt Creek Fire was first reported Sunday afternoon just after 4 p.m. Both ODF Southwest Oregon District and Lake Creek Fire District initially responded. When firefighters arrived on scene, it was estimated to be 2-5 acres and growing quickly in the hot, dry and windy conditions.

Thanks to the ODF and the well-established system for fighting these fires, and the brave individuals doing it on our behalf.

The Neurons have “Man In A Box” by Alice in Chains from 1991 in the morning mental music stream (Trademark ashy). The song received a lot of play time on the stations which I listened to back then. I was back in the USA and living in the Mountain View/Sunnyvale area on the Peninsula between San Jose and San Francisco, CA. I remained in the military then, my final tour, doing space ops in the blue cube at Onizuka Air Station.

The song came to me last night. The temperature was still warm and I awoke drenched in sweat. The words, sweat box, spun up. Hence, the song.

Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee and I have negotiated a settlement and I’m now sipping away. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood: Overbaked

“Heat Awareness Week” continues in Ashlandia today, where the temperature will reach 106 F. Yesterday, I saw 109 F at my house. My friend on the other end of town registered 110 F. Officially, I think the town ‘only’ registered 104 F. While we didn’t see 100 degrees on Friday until after 3:30 PM, 102 was stuck by 1:30, and it just kept on climbing.

It’s 80 F now, so already warming. Monday and Tuesday are also expected to surmount the triple digit level before plunging into the mid to high nineties next week. In a happy move, though, our lows tonight are dropping into the high sixties, giving us some nocturnal release.

I don’t understand why but The Neurons have Prince and The Revolution performing “When Doves Cry” from 1984 in the morning mental music stream (Trademark scorched). Perhaps it’s kismet; according to the wiki thingy, this song was #1 from July 7, 1984, holding that spot for five weeks. Today is Sunday, July 7, 2024, just a scant forty years ago to the day. Now a pause to recover from realizing that the song is that old.

I actually suspect that the song is in my head because of some passing thoughts from Friday. My wife and I had just left a bakery and were in the car, driving away. The blue sky reminded me of the Okinawa sky, as did the moment — leaving the bakery. I asked her if she remembered going to the American Bakery on Okinawa to buy dessert. She didn’t remember that. Part of the trigger for that memory, though, was that “Raspberry Beret” by Prince and The Revolution was playing on the radio, and that song came out in the mid 1980s, when I lived on Okinawa.

Stay positive, remain cool, be strong, and enjoy life. Coffee and I have exchanged greetings for the morning. Here’s the music video, and away we go. Cheers

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End of World Dreams

I’m covering two of my three end of world dreams from last night. First, these dreams had very dark settings. Most of the first one took place underground or at night.

Another aspect that fascinated me about the dreams was how it combined elements of my military career with my IBM employment. Trippy mind work going on there. And now, the dreams.

I was working for IBM and it wasn’t going well. Exhausted from working and trying to save our division, many of us were sleeping at work, going twenty-four hours to try to save it. But we’d run out of time and knew the division was going to be shut down. Worse, and more surreally, we realized that the world was ending. How and why it was ending, the dream never covered. But this was something I knew, and was continually in the back of my dream mind.

To start, I’d been sleeping on the floor in my work office. It’s totally dark. I have a few private possessions and clothing, and that’s it. Voices awaken me. I listen and recognize our division director dismally describing the situation: world ending, division ending, shutting down. We were hanging on to our jobs because it gave us some hope that something could be done to stop the end of the world. Now he’s saying, we failed.

His comments stir me into a restless fit. I pace, trying to brainstorm about what we can do. Crazy ideas emerge but nothing sensible. I want to go talk to him about it, so I dress and head out, tracking him down.

The office area is built on a rock-strewn coastline. I clamber over rocks to find the director. He vaguely knows me. I throw out some ideas and he thanks me but tells me, they’ve already shot down those ideas because we don’t have the resources. It’s all dark doom and gloom.

I wander into another section and find an unused office. Turns out, the IBM offices are built on top of an old military base. The office used to be a missile control center. Finding a key, I put it into a dusty receptacle and turn it.

From elsewhere, I hear alarmed chatter that there are lights on: a missile is firing. I’m horrified to discover that I’ve turned a key to launch a nuclear missile. I’m also shocked; apparently, this one was overlooked when the nukes were removed. I frantically attempt to turn back the key but fail. Finding the director and other people, I try to reassure them that the nuke won’t detonate because it wasn’t armed, but I’m not sure. I’m pretty certain that high explosive are in the warhead and will detonate. I speculate that could cause the nuke to go off.

I run out to watch it. The missile launches into the dark sky. Huge ocean waves are crashing into the buildings, tearing them down. Shouting warnings to others, I climb the slippery rocks and escape.

Time slips past. I’m now surviving with three other men in the remaining office complex. We walk around setting small fires to keep warm and looking for food. We’ve found a cache, so we’re not too worried. I’ve also found a radio and keep tuning it, attempting to pick up radio stations and get some news. I worry about some of the fires they’ve set because they’ve put them under wall calendars and posters, which are catching fire.

“So?” Others ask. “What’s going to happen? We’ll burn down the building? It’s the end of the world.” Although I understand what they’re saying, I’m thinking that they have a bad attitude about surviving.

We drift out of the building to find other survivors. We end up in an underground tunnel in a yellow taxi. I’m driving. The tunnel is dully lit with dim yellow lights. To proceed further, we need to stop at a toll gate. There are three lines. Two lines are hugely backed up. The third has no one waiting. We pull up to the gate for the third ine. I get out to talk to the gate attendant, a short, swarthy guy, and ask him, “Can we use this gate? We don’t have any money — “

He interrupts me by showing me a finger, wait. As this happens, a blond woman in a green skirt comes up and reminds the gate attendant that the gate we’re at is to only be used by VIPs and emergency personnel. She leaves and he turns to me and says, “Now you can.” I understand him to mean we can use it because she’s gone. I thank him and asks, “But how much does it cost?” He replies, “No charge.”

I awaken and think all that through. Falling back asleep, I have another dream about the end of the world. It’s burning, and I know it’s ending.

Another dream begins, and I’m with the other three men again. We’re just leaving the toll gate and enter a building. In there, we find some other people and plentiful supplies, including alcohol. We basically decide to drink and get drunk. Why not? The world is ending.

We’re sitting around drinking and hear the outer door open. Investigating, we find four woman entering. They tell us they were looking for someone to party with since the world is ending. We tell them that we have alcohol and invite them to join us. They agree, and men and women pair off.

My companion is a short, chubby woman. She and I begin making out but she becomes morose about the of the world and starts crying. I try consoling her with hugs and some positive statements but she goes on about how so many people are gone and it’ll all be over soon, which is why she and her friends were looking for someone to party with. She and I go back to the main room, where the others are also arriving. All have had the same situation, that the women are sad and crying. They live.

Dream end. I awoke and realized with surprise that it was part of the first dream because of the background situation, my companions, and the setting.

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The Red Tricycle Dream

I was with some sort of military unit. A bunch of military units wre there, all living side-by-side with their families, including children in this big sort of hanger. It was a sea of chaos to my eyes.

The guy in charge held up a large white envelope. “Someone needs to go around and collect for the charities.”

“I’ll do it,” I said. Otherwise, it seemed like I was doing nothing but waiting.

Directions about what to do were in the envelope, along with a list of the units. My task was to go around and hit them up for money, not just the units, but some individuals in the units. Weirdly, I was to always get eight donations. That struck me because a few years ago, I had a series of dreams in which eight was always significant.

I began my collections, and fumbled my way through, telling others what I was doing and why, getting the required monies. After doing three, I thought, this is ridiculous. I was walking, and with the throngs of milling people and distances, snails would have outraced me. Going back and turning in my collection, I complained, “I need some way to get around faster.”

Someone gave me a little red tricycle to use, the kind of transpo suited to a toddler. I sat on the seat and grabbed the grips on the silver handlebars. The grips were white, with pink and white tassels hanhing off them. Applying my feet to the pedals, I tried to make progress, but it was ridiculous, with my knees rising above the handlebars and sometimes slamming into them.

Getting off the trike, I considered my transportation. “I need to make some changes,” I said, “but how?”

Like heat lightning on a summer evening, the idea came: I will think of the changes I want and make them happen.

First, the three-wheeler needed to be larger to fit my adultness. I picked up the thing and thought that until the trike was sufficiently sized. Next, I thought, I want the front wheel further out, like a chopper. Thought and done. Then, sitting on it again, I thought, I want the seat to be like a chair and reclined. Done.

Next, did I really need to pedal? Flying over this crowd and from unit to unit would make my task deeply easier. So I thought of wings, and then decided, yes, this can fly. Somewhere along that process, I gained a flying helmet with googles and a white scarf.

I took off on a practice run, flying around the hanger, and it was smooth as an icy pond. In quick order, I was flying to the units on my rounds. Some of the unit personnel knew me at one and asked, “How did you get that flying bike?”

I told them, “Someone gave me a red tricycle and I changed it.”

“But how did you change it?”

“I just thought of what I wanted,” I replied. “And that made it happen.”

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The QC Dream

In my final three years of my US Air Force career, I was involved in the Quality Air Force initiative of the 1990s. This dram seemed to pull out of that.

I wasn’t in uniform during the dream at all but quality management was constantly referenced. To begin, I was in a modern classroom with many others. We were there by invitation to participate in a quality management session.

I didn’t know the man in charge. Large-bodied, white, tall, and bald, with a small mustache, I did know his work and was eager and excited to be included in his project. His name was never given.

As we invitees sat and waited in the glass room, he walked around the room before calling out four names. I was on called. Pleased, I went up to him. He told me and the other three that we had ‘outstanding and extensive’ quality management experience and so he was presenting us with the opportunity to be his class assistant. Flattered and eager, I accepted, and he gave me a little booklet to use.

That’s all the dream was but short as it was, it felt strongly re-affirming.

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An Unsettling Dream

I didn’t know what to make of this offering last night from the Dream Neurons.

It was another military dream. I was in this crowded location. Nothing about it was wholly clear. A senior NCO, I looked like myself from my last years in the military before I retired.

As I say, very crowded. Mostly officers. Mostly Air Force, but a few from the others services were present.

Narrow room. Seemed like an operations center but none of the typical comm gear and crypto was in sight.

My commander, a colonel and short, blonde woman who looked remarkably like Sandi Toksvig, cornered me. “I have to go out,” she said. “Keep an eye out for those guys.” I knew which guys she meant. They were basically rogue, either on a mission they’re weren’t supposed to be on, or away without authorized leave.

“Yes, ma’am, I will.”

“If thy show up, and we think they will, immediately call security.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She left, and I vaguely wandered about the place. It didn’t take long for the missing men to show. All were tall, young, and fit. None were in uniform.

All of my officers were pleased to see them. A generally jovial spirit emerged as my guys greeted the new guys. An impromptu party seemed in the making.

But I had to do my duty. It was going to be ugly because everyone else were overjoyed with the rogue guys’ presence. That put me in some emotional turmoil. I didn’t want to be the bad guy. But it had to be done.

So, I balked. I told the senior officer present what had transpired between the commander and me, and the directions to call security on the rogues. He listened, displeased. I finished, “I’m calling security, but I didn’t want it to be a surprise.”

He spread the news to the rest. Their expressions darkened. Sullen silence soon prevailed. I made the call.

The rogues slipped out as soon as I called. The officers immediately began disparaging me. The senior officers and a few others defended me; I was following orders. Doing my duty. That little mollified them or me.

The senior officer, one other officer, and I left for the airport. We were walking and meant to be going on some duty travel. I ran into my commander and informed her about what’d transpired. She told me, “Good job, you did what was needed.” We seperated.

I caught up with my traveling companions at the airport. It was a chaotic mess. Remaining outside we milled with others, trying to learn where to go for our flight. While that was going on, a gigantic giraffe loomed over the top of the trees.

Excited children pointed at it and shouted. I stared, incredulous. The animal was bigger than what I thought was normal for a giraffe. Also, WTF was a giraffe doing at an airport? Also, the giraffe looked fake, like it was made of aluminum and then painted. Who would do that?

We found our flight and boarded. There weren’t any seats. All of us were forced to stand. That was okay because the flight was over in an eyeblink.

We began disembarking. The senior officer sketched his plans and then asked me, “And what are you going to do?” in a booming voice.

I replied, “Whatever you need me to do, sir.”

“Do what you want. Just don’t nuke anyone.”

Weird thing to say, I thought. “I won’t, sir.”

Dream end.

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Friday’s Theme Music

Mood: springtimism

Hello, my fellow voyagers. (Pause: made me think of an old series, “Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea”. No, that’s not where we’re going, fingers crossed, knock wood. But do you remember the Irwin Allen series?)

Today is Friday, 02232024. Outside bubbles with spring-like sunshine under a clear blue sky and a gentle, friendly wind. Things are blooming and green is showing up. Snow? Sadly, no snow in our area. 57 F now, that’s what was called out as the high, so we may see warmer late afternoon temperatures.

Think the floofs are happy? You betcha. This warm stuff has Papi galloping around like a youngster. Tucker watches the other, plotting moves by the look in his eyes, but instead, he faces the sun and washes his gleaming white and black fur in the sunshine.

Read a lot of news and politics this morning but I’ve decided to veer away from those things for the day. The Neurons are feeding the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks) with The Replacements and their ripping song, “Can’t Hardly Wait”. Good driving beat to the song.

First, it was triggered by an episode of The Bear a couple weeks ago, taking me back to 1987, when I first heard it. During that period, I was stationed in South Carolina but heading to Egypt for six weeks of some fun in the sand. The Neurons returned it to me by a single line, “I’ll be home when I’m sleeping,” itself triggered from a dream trilogy.

The Egyptian experience was definitely memorable. Besides visiting the Pyramids and Sphinx, and meeting many lovely citizens of that nation, there was the experience of solar cooking our MREs on the tops of tents and coping with duststorms and scorpions. Best, I think, though, was the daily shower experience. Lining up across the desert as the sun rose found us shivering. We’d file into the shower tent so many at a time, strip down, and stand around a pole with six shower heads. Then hot water on for three minutes to wet down. Another minute off for soaping up, and then another minute to rinse off. Then dry and dress and walk back across the dusty, sandy desert to stow your gear and head to the chow tent for some freshly reconstituted powdered eggs.

Later in the day, the bombing runs would begin with various fighter and bombers coming in low and fast to pretend they’re attacking our camp. A little noisy, yes.

Stay positive, remain strong, lean forward, and vote, and I’ll do the same. But first, coffee! Here’s the music. Seize the day, my friends. Cheers

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: writxiety

While it’s Thursday, February 22, 2024, the weather has twisted toward spring here in Ashlandia in southern Oregon. Winds be blowing with a wintry taste but sunshine blinds the eyes and blue sky mixes it up with piecemeal white and gray clouds. None of the clouds are large but they can be something if they unite and stay together.

It’s 54 F now after mid 30s as our overnight lows, and will tweak a few more degrees north of the current temp. The cats are not happy with the situation. “It’s the wind,” they complain. “Too much damn wind for our whiskers.”

The house painting is done and the bill is paid. $7650. Looks fab, though, and we’re happy with it, so I guess it’s worth it.

The Neurons have infiltrated the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks) with some Rush flavored prog rock, aka progressive rock or prock. Today’s song is “New World Man” from 1982. I can’t find the roots of its presence in the MMMS, only that sometime while I was in the kitchen after feeding the floof boys, that song was in my head as I prepped my brekkie. It’s a song I know from a military co-worker on Okinawa. Rush music was a big staple of his listening hoard. He considered them severely underrated and unappreciated.

Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and vote. That’s all we ask of you; is that so much? I hope not. Coffee has been served and sampled. Here we go, into the winds of a new day. And here’s the music. Cheers

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: weathebunctious (rambunctious because of the weather)

Greeting, fellow prisoners of Earth.

It’s Wednesday, the last day of January, 2024. Another sprinter day. Light sprinkles mist the window’s view. Temperature is holding at 54 F. Aiming for a high of 56 F, expecting a low of 42 F. It’s the wind which will have you talking.

Strong wind advisories are out. I mocked them a little when I heard the warnings, but these winds are striving to make me believe. A muted growl started above us just after midnight, descending as night fled before dawn’s pursuit. Now it sounds like we’re standing by a crowded Interstate where the continuous roar of semis and cars eat pavement at sixty plus MPH. Sometimes a wolfish howl leaps over the deeper octaves, or ghostly shrieks rise up to call for attention.

Papi wanted back out in this. He’s my ginger-furred feline adventurer. He must suffer from a short memory, because he doesn’t seem to recall bolting in with legs frantically churning to escape the wind noise just a few hours ago. Tucker, for comparison, stayed five feet back from the doors when I went out to check things.

Haven’t completed my taxes. Have only received SSA’s forms and my 1099R. All other 1099 type documents are just being released. Ridiculous. I used to have all that stuff by mid-month, have the taxes filled and done before January’s end. Bureaucratic crept is pushing it out further and further, a funny development when technology to import, export, add and subtract and exchange information is available, isn’t it?

Today’s theme music came as I walked through the garage last night to deposit the kitty litter findings into the trash can. “Need to clean and organize this place again,” I muttered to myself. “Again. Get rid of some of this. Make some changes.”

Click. The Neurons began “Changes” by Yes from 1984 in my head and it’s still in the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks) today. “Changes” was part of the 1984 Yes album, 90125. I was stationed on Okinawa at the time, and my friends and I loved this album from the start. “Owner of a Lonely Heart” was the album’s number one song, and we so admired that beginning section of fuzzy rock guitars, drums, and a heavy bass note.

Pause to reflect, 1984 was forty years ago. Lots of memories and changes built into that period.

Also, there are a lot of songs named changes or about changes, The Neurons began reminding me.

Papi just knocked at the door for re-entry. He’s wearing a fresh coat of soaked fur. Wind has dropped, rain stopped, sun is drenching us in sunshine, but sullen inky clouds are lurking.

Stay positive, remain strong, lean forward, and vote. There’s my coffee (well, more coffee, TBH), and here’s the music. Oh, look, it’s raining again. No, wait, sunshine is back. No, no, it’s raining. And the wind is back.

Cheers

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: detsessive (determined obsessive)

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

Cheers

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