Mood: squeaky

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