Saturday’s Wandering Thoughts

One of the baristas seemed angry with him. He didn’t know why, but she appeared to act colder toward him, like he’d offended her. Searching his memories, he didn’t find a triggering episode. It could be other things, he told himself, like he’d imagined her being nicer and friendlier before, or he was imagining now that she was angry with him. Or, she might be upset with something happening in her life, and he’s just reading her interaction with him and misinterpreting it.

Really, though, while all of those were logically possible, it felt to him like she was angry with him, and that bothered him.

Sunday’s Wandering Thoughts

Someone said, “I’ve been watching Hallmark Christmas movies. I watched three yesterday.”

Surprise went through me. Had I missed Halloween and Thanksgiving? I replied, “What month is this?”

Another said, “We put up and decorated our first Christmas tree. We usually put up two, one in the living room window, and a larger one in the family room. That’s the one we put up.”

I was staring out at the sunshine and leaves. Many were still on trees, their chlorophyll declining, losing their green colors, letting other colors emerge. Autumn, in other words.

As others continued talking about their Christmas-themed activities, I thought, I’m really out of touch.

I’m still celebrating autumn.

Thursday’s Wandering Thoughts

Here we go. Thursday ends in a y, so it must be time for me to rant.

Subject: Are more people running red lights?

It seemed like that was rare for me to witness anywhere outside of Japan, which was over thirty years ago. I’d see one sometimes in the Bay area, especially in San Jose.

Now, here in little Ashland, I typically witness two cars or more a day running red lights. I rarely if ever saw them before the COVID era began. Now they’re increasing. While some are people turning left across traffic and waiting for an opening that doesn’t come until the light changes, the huge percentage are going straight, speeding up to hurtle through an intersection before the light goes red.

They often don’t make it. People get the green light and begin to go and then, here comes the red light runner, forcing everyone with the green light and right of way to slam on their brakes. I often witness very close calls between vehicles, or the speeding vehicle and cyclists or passengers.

It reminds me of the one crash I saw when someone ran the redlight.

This was around 1997. We were living in Mountain View, California, and had decided to go to the Mall of America in Milpitas. Stopped at a traffic light, I realized I needed to be in the lane to the right. Only one car inhabited it, so I thought I’d delay until they went and then shift over.

The light changed. The car in the next lane started off. I followed.

Suddenly, here comes a Cadillac sedan. Running the light from my left, they slammed into the driver’s side of the first car.

That could’ve easily been me.

We went right, around the block, coming back to check on the cars. Took a few minutes and by the time we arrived, the cops were there and the people from the crash were in a parking lot. But my wife and I stopped anyway, to share what we witnessed, and to check on the people.

As we approached, we heard the young female driver whose car was hit say with heavy sobbing, “I thought the light had changed.” On the parking lot’s other side, an old man paced while an elderly woman fumed beside him, arms crossed, lips tight.

I immediately said to the young driver, “It had changed. I was there. It was green when you went.”

The cops looked at me and asked who I was. I explained it all. My wife and I verified, the light was absolutely green when the woman went forward.

I heard the fuming woman say, “You’re always doing this. I knew this was going to happen.” As I looked her way, she finished to the old man, “You’re lucky you haven’t killed someone yet, but you will, if you don’t change.”

Watching these people taking greater and greater risk, I often now think the same thing which that woman said that day.

Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts

My wife said, “I’m going to wear my blue sweater that I wore the other day, but I think you can see through it in the sunlight.”

I answered, “You can.”

“You could see through it?”

“Yes.”

“You could see through it but you chose not to say anything?”

“You’re very fashion aware. It’s a loose knit sweater. I thought you knew.”

Eyes rolling, throwing her hands up, she stormed off. I shrugged, guessing, I must be the asshole for not saying anything, and then reflecting on the entire process one more time.

We didn’t stay angry long; after being together for over fifty-two years as friends and everything else, we don’t stay angry. Act out or vent, move on. She came out, ready to go. She wasn’t wearing the blue sweater in question but a light blue sweater. I said, sincerely, “You look nice.”

She grinned at me. “Not see through?”

“Totally opaque,” I replied.

Friday’s Wandering Thought

Tinted by smoke, the sun was a tangerine as noon rolled up. A short man walked through the warming, stifling day. Someone caught in middle age’s trenches, hard-edged in his slenderness, pale as a grub, bald as a newborn, walking fast. Unbelievable sight in this nasty air. White-grey ash collected on surfaces, dulling car polish, stinging nostrils with high magnitude burnt-wood flavors, usually encouraging tears, runny noses, sniffing, coughing.

But this guy walked down the sidewalk like the town’s proud owner, the only one out there, protected by sandals, a white tee-shirt, and light blue denim jeans. He also sucked on a cigarette and blew out his own smoke.

That might explain a lot.

Tuesday’s Theme Music

June of 2023 is slip sliding away. It’s already 6/27, fer gosh sakes. Temptation Tuesday, too. Temptation Tuesday is always recognized as the last Tuesday of June. It’s so-called Temptation Tuesday because people north of the equator on summer or bathing suit diets often lose their will to keep going on their diet. See, they’d been making progress, looking good, feeling better about themselves. Don’t they deserve a little reward?

Gonna be 84 F here in Ashlandia, where the cats are chubby and the dogs are barky. No significant change from yesterday. Change is a’comin’, though. Big heat heading for northern California. We’ll get some runoff from that, with highs climbing into the nineties. Not expected to break 100 F, knock on plastic.

The Neurons are playing “Tom’s Cabin” by Suzanne Vega with music by DNA. Always enjoy this song about a woman in a cafe on a rainy day thinking about someone else and observing the minutea around her. Have no idea why Der Neurons are playing in the morning mental music stream.

Stay pos and keep reaching for the heavens, or something like that. We have coffee at hand. Here’s la musica. Cheers

Saturday’s Wandering Thought

He had a rogue eyebrow hair. It curled up and away, refusing efforts to make it fit with the rest of his eyebrow. With a suppressed small sigh, he cut it back. He’d learned years ago that once an eyebrow went rogue, it needed to be trimmed. Don’t pull it, though, no. All kinds of things could happen if you pull it, including a gray – or worse, a white – replacement hair growing in, or nothing replacing it at all, leaving you with smaller and small eyebrows.

Friday’s Wandering Thought

It’s an old joke, heard every year at this time. People leaving and going in different directions tell each other as if it’s brand new, “Well, I’ll see you next year.”

Everyone laughs like it’s never been heard before.

Twosday’s Wandering Thought

Three young girls arrived. He’s not an expert in these matters, but their lithe size and small stature made him guess that they were probably ten to twelve years old. All were white and wore shorts, and four-to-five-inch-high heels with ankle straps. One of the pairs of heels had clear plastic. The other two were stiletto.

These, he was certain, were the youngest people he’d ever seen wearing high heels. He’d certainly never seen them on children this young before. It seemed like they portended something, but he didn’t know what.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑