Friedaz’s Theme Music

We’ve clocked into Friedaz, February 7, 2024. Snowfall greeted me when I checked the weather. A couple more inches had been added during night’s rule. Now 30 F, more was piling up.

Or was it? The temperature crept up to 31. 32. 32.3. 32.4.

Papi the ginger blade, aka, ginger butt, had a vet appointment. 10 AM. I’d made it three weeks ago. He was suffering fur loss, ravenous appetite and some weight loss. Hyperactive thyroid was suspected by us. We’d seen the same in Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah). In fact, based on that, we’d started sharing Tucker’s medicine with Papi. Stopped it on Monday so we could get it out of his system and see the test results.

After strapping chains onto the tires and putting a complaining Papi into a kennel, I made the drive under heavy snowfall.

Turned out that chains were only needed for our driveway and street. The city’s main roads were plowed. As we traveled west and north, the temperature rose. Snow became rain. Precipitation ceased by the time we reached the vet.

That’s okay. Little inconvenienced. Important thing is to get Papi checked and healthy. Yeah, blood work shows hyperactive thyroid. Five hundred clams later, she prescribed the same med that Tucker is getting. Wants to check him in a month.

BTW, I researched why we call money ‘clams’. Turns out that it’s an old joke, based on settlers observing natives using clams for cash. Actually, I made that up. Figure that in this era of fake news, what’s a little more?

I have a 1974 Procol Harum song, “Pandora’s Box”, in the morning mental music stream. Procol Harum often brought interesting music to the scene. This is one I knew from their albums but I don’t believe I ever heard it played on the radio. Funny enough, Aerosmith had a song with the same title in the year before. That caused some confusion among some of us. The two songs sound nothing at all alike, with vastly different intentions presented by the lyrics. I later bet a friend about who performed the song, cleverly inserting the year as part of the bet. I won but he accused me of being underhanded and taking advantage of him. Guilty! But the bet was just a beer, come on. It was at the NCO club and was five dollars for a pitcher. Of course, it was American lager…Miller Lite, I think.

Coffee has resuscitated my energy levels again. Time to get on the day and ride. Hope your day fills your needs.

Hey, look, the snow has stopped and the sun is out.

By the way, I thought I’d utilize the original spelling used today, Friedaz. In doing research, I learned that ‘day’ was actually ‘daz’ almost universally until it became Anglicized. And the prefix, Fri, was originally Frig or Frigga, after a Nordic Goddess. Those rebelling against Nordic influence because they were chaffing from looting done during Viking raids in Europe, changed it to Frie. That spelling upset Christians, as Frigga day or Frieday was a day of fasting. People thought that calling it Friedaz gave them permission to eat fried food. Hence, they started eating fried fish on Friedaz, giving rise to the Catholic rule of eating fish on Friday. The spelling was changed to try to stop people from eating fried foods on Friedaz, but it had became too embedded. Even so, a last ditch attempt was made by religious authorities: they changed the spelling to Friday. And that’s why we have that spelling.

Naw, I made that up, too. Blame the coffee. It’s always forcing me to write and say crazy things.

Until another time, cheers

February 7, 2025 0

Thursdaz’s Theme Music

The sixth day of February has boarded our minds in the year of 2025 CE, a Thursdaz. Crazy frog — our home’s expression for freezing fog, based on a mondetext — has stolen the sunlight, gifting us twilight colors of, gray, white, and black. No snow falling but ‘they’ are warning us that more is on the way. It’s 32 F and greater warmth isn’t anticipated. Snow might be on the way. Or rain.

The primary roads have been plowed here but get off them and yer on yer own. Sidewalks on not cleared, so people must walk on the streets. Everyone gives pedestrians on the roads wide passage but given the environment, I imagine people walking worry with every step about someone losing control of their vehicle.

Weather caused cancellation of my first two lymphedema massage therapy sessions. Another one is scheduled for tomorrow. Also have an appointment for Papi the ginger blade, aka butter butt, Meep, and butter booger, to see what’s going on about his fur shedding.

The Ban Man is at it. Trump bans with a petulant thump. “Ban transsexuals in women’s sports.” Thump. “If I can’t have fun and play sports, neither can they.” “Ban DEI. I’m a rich white guy, born into a wealthy white household. I don’t understand how that was an advantage over others.” Thump. “Ban it all, everything that isn’t me.” Thump.

Of course, the craziness of the first term is still flowering. ‘The U.S. will take over Gaza. Move the Palestinians out.’ What? Friggin’ nuts. Then his ‘team’ scrambles to make it sound sane, plausible, and supported by everyone, and then Trump realizes how nuts he sounded and tries to change what he said. Brother.

It was a busy morning. Friend called to ask advice about his ailing cat. Another called for help with his recalcitrant computer. And, caught up with Mom drama via texts with Mom and a sis. Mom fell again. She refuses assistance and she’s been at war with her live-in boyfriend for months. She’s 89 and he’s 94. I have never witnessed him be anything but polite and nice to her but she declares him mean. My siblings and I have a lifetime of Mom so her claims draw leeriness as a first response. It’s unfortunate but she’s been married multiple times and has had several boyfriends, and drama is her drug. She makes everything contentious with everyone. It’s a sigh-inducing relationship with her.

With that gray-tinged white world staring back at us, it’s no surprise that The Neurons pulled a Cream song, “White Room”, into the morning mental music stream. It’s a Cream favorite o’ mine. A poet, Pete Brown, was responsible for the lyrics, which strike many as enigmatic. I think iyhat pushes me to look inside myself.

My favorite part is this stanza, followed by the chorus.

You said no strings could secure you at the station
Platform ticket, restless diesels,goodbye windows
I walked into such a sad time at the station
As I walked out, felt my own need, just beginning

[Chorus]
I’ll wait in the queue when the trains come back
Lie with you where the shadows run from themselves

h/t to genius.com

I like the way the stanza is belted out, angry, defiant, challenging, before the softly resigned introspection presented by the chorus.

Then, too, there are three phenomenal rock performers demonstrating their craft with bass guitar, lead guitar, and drums. Awesome.

Coffee and I introduced ourselves to one another again and I’m indulging in more caffeine-infused dark goodness. Hope your day offers some escape from the world’s woes and some satisfaction to your plans. Cheers

February 6, 2025 0

Ode to Papi

Trying to catch him is like reaching for sushine in the air

He’s so quick, elusive, it’s just not fair.

Passing us in a blaze of light,

He’s a wingless small animal lifting off in flight.

His burst of speed has no rhyme nor reason,

And seems independent of time and season.

Just as we keep wondering why and thinking where,

He comes back with a purr, his tail in the air.

February 1, 2025 0

Frieda’s Theme Music

And on the last day of January of 2025, rain fell on Ashlandia.

Yes, it’s Frieda, January 31, 2025, and rain is peppering Ashlandia. 41 F outside, ‘they’ inform us that it’ll edge close to 50 F before day surrenders to night. Visibility is limited by low, white clouds. Can’t look across the valley to see what’s happening there, or further up the southern range, to see if this precipitation has cast its lot with snow anywhere.

I’m happy with the rain, but not all in the household share the pleasure. Papi has traveled in and out in search of better weather. My wife said that at one point, she opened the door for him to come back in, but he acted like he wanted her to come outside. “I think he was saying, it’s raining, come out here and change the weather,” she related.

Alas, we don’t have the weather change app yet so we couldn’t help him. That forces him to go out and in and forces us to open and close doors for his travels. It’s become stale after ten rounds. We might be starkers by mid-afternoon.

Spending of starkers — no, I’m not going into politics yet. Too damn early to burst my spirit with tales from the dark side. I will say that I read that one Trump supporter, a Muslim, approves of Trump’s first days of activity. I’m waiting for the other shoe on that FAFO situation to drop. Like that man who wholly supported Trump’s actions until they came and took his wife away. Then, suddenly, he is crying, woe is me, and personally begging Trump himself to not take his wife away. They just don’t get it, do they? Trump and his minions care for no one but themselves. For that matter, Trump only cares about Trump. And he’ll lie in a breath without a thought. He’ll also speak without a thought, too, as he keeps proving. On further evidence, Trump supporters are like Trump in many ways, unaffected by these policies until it hits them, thinking only of themselves until it hits them, blissfully oblivious to what they say and do until it comes back and bites them in the ass.

The Neurons have brought up a 1993 Billy Joel tune. “The River of Dreams” is playing in the morning mental music stream. It has a sort of Gospel/spiritual flavor infusing it. The Neurons offered it to the stream after I’d gotten up in the middle of the night. Yes, a cat was involved. After taking care of the cat need, I had several needs, involving trips to the kitchen and the bathroom. I hadn’t turned on any lights, but we have several recessed night lights installed. Anyway, I also wandered to the window to check on the rain. That’s when the song came in. Joel sings, “In the middle of the night, I go walking in my sleep.” Seemed kinda apt at the time, in The Neurons’ opinion. Yes, although there are millions of them, the usually speak with one collective opinion.

Coffee is making its way through my systems, delivering whatever help it can. Time to fly. Hope your day is up to your hopes and aspirations wherever you might travel or whatever you do.* Here we go. Cheers

*Certain restrictions may apply.

January 31, 2025 1

Frida’s Wandering Thoughts

We share our house with two floofs. Both are cats, strays that decided to call our place home. One is Papi, the ginger blade, also referred to as Meep and Butter Butt. The alpha cat is Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah), a black and white mixed fur cat with shades of Maine Coon. He’s older by several years.

Tucker has recently taken to not responding to me. Not responding, that is, until I mention Papi’s name. I can and do say, “What’s up, Tucker, are you hungry, what do you want,” etc., and get nothing. But if I say, “What is it, Papi?” Whoa, Tucker turns and marches over.

In my mind, I attribute this whole thing to Tucker trying to trick me into thinking he’s Papi. When I call Tucker by Papi’s name, Tucker is thinking, “I did it! He thinks I’m the other cat.”

As anyone who lives with an animal knows, this is basic flooflighting.

January 17, 2025 0

Sunda’s Theme Music

Mood: Morninlazin

Sunshine and blue owned the morning sky. The afternoon’s start delivered winds and smotherin’ gray clouds. That mornin’ sunshine feels like a mirage. It’s 43 F. High will be 44 F. Dropped into the cold zone overnight, 29 F at our house. Decidin’ that he preferred warmth over being a free animal, Papi nested in the house until 5:50 AM. That’s when he did his bangin’ to be freed.

BTW, today is Sunda, January 12, 2025.

I’ve been car watching from the coffee shop. We used to have an expression in the US Air Force for B52 bombers. We called them BUFs. Big Ugly F*ckers. I think the term should be revised for some of those vehicles roamin’ the streets. The Tesla Cybertruck certainly qualifies as a BUF. As does the Telluride SUV. My opinion, of course. Others might call them the epitomy of technologic beauty. Some segment probably sees no beauty in any vehicle, dubbin’ them all monstrosities of the modern landscape. And that’s also a reasonable response.

I’ve been watching The Last Days of Ptolemy Grey on Apple. Created by Walter Mosley and based on his novel, the main actor is Samuel L. Jackson. That’s a double win for me, as I’m fans of both. Also features Walton Goggins, another personal preference when I’m watching shows and movies, and has a strong cast. No misfires among any of them, with respect and appreciation for Dominique Fishback in her role increasing. I also admire the way the show ages and de-ages Jackson’s character, Ptolemy, aka Pity. However, when they de-aged him in some episodes, his mustache looked like a glued-on fake to me. Bit distracting for me cuz of that. I recommend the series, though. Came out a few years ago.

Today’s song was gifted to The Neurons by my wife. Al Jarreau is one of her favorite performers, and one of her favorite songs is “Mornin'” from 1983. It’s one of her go-to songs when she’s cleanin’, cookin’, and exercisin’. As she resolved to make some New Year changes, she’s been playin’ this tune several times this week. Not surprisin’, The Neurons locked onto it and have it going in the morning mental music stream (Trademark waitin’). Jarreau is a helluva performer and singer. He sings with such joy. We’ve seen in concert a few times and wouldn’t hesitate to plunk down bucks and do it again, except we can’t because he passed away. This is another of those times when technology works in our favor to help us remember wonderful people. Hope you enjoy it.

Meanwhile, watching the news continuing to come out about the devastating California fires is just soul-killing. To think that someone may have deliberately started any of them is just friggin’ horrifyin’. Yet that possibility seems to have legs. In this age of Trump, I’m stirred to worry that his hateful diatribes triggered someone to actually start fires in California just to own the libs. That’s unfortunately the sort of mentality that seems possible among that cult.

Coffee and I have again embraced one another, observing the Sunday tradition set upon by myself about half a century ago. Hope you have a solid day. Here’s the music for you. Cheers

January 12, 2025 0

Fogda’s Theme Music

Mood: brandnufogncoffee

We’ve slipped into foggy bottom or foggy bottom slipped over us. Fogda, Jan. 6, 2025. 40 degrees F, sunshine has taken some time away, apparently, giving us over to clouds and rain. 56 F is the projected high. An air stagnation advisory has been slapped on us.

Yesterday turned into fine, sunshiny day. Of course, we were slightly out of town for most of the afternoon, and in a slighter higher elevation, visiting our friends for a party. Good cast of characters, and the house is beautiful. The owner joked that it was a two-bedroom five two hundred square foot home with five fireplaces. Main house had a beautiful small living room and a large living room which used to be the original owner’s home movie theater. That was a natural for that original owner as he owned a chain of movie theaters. Finances crashed and he quit using the house during COVID. The owner related that everything had quit working and they needed to repair and replace multiple things when they bought the home. But they did the job and it showed. There’s also a .5 acre fishing pond, heated pool, a separate artist studio, two-bedroom guest house with a two-car garage, and an RV parking garage with space for three RVs, which cracks up the current owner. “Definitely something we don’t need,” he said. It’s about eight minutes out of Ashlandia. A hallway off the foyer has his and hers coat closets, along with a guest closet.

Papi continues losing fur at a startling rate. He’s not going bald or anything; fur keeps growing in to replace it. We don’t know what’s going on. His appetite is good, he’s as perky and conversant as ever, and he looks good. We keep thinking, must be the weather, but he’s never done this before. We eye him for signs of things going amiss. If it’s there, we’re missing it.

Today’s song was born out of texts swapped between Mom, me, and a sis in the Pittsburgh, PA, region. They had snow coming down, impeding traffic, limiting outdoor options. The Neurons took the opportunity to start “Snow (Hey Oh)” by Red Hot Chili Peppers in the morning mental music stream (Trademark blizzard). The 2005 song is about getting a fresh start. Hey, it’s kinda still a new year, new month, new day, and a new government administration in the U.S. Okay, I kind of choked on that last one. I’ve always enjoyed this hard rocker. Easy to follow and sing along. And hey, it’s also about surviving, so there we go.

Be chill and don’t thrill. Coffee and I ran into each in the kitchen and swapped some spit. Hey ho, listen to what I say yo, it’s a fresh new day. Here’s the music. Cheers

January 6, 2025 0

Wezda’s Theme Music

Mood: Firstdayfever

It’s a day of firsts. First day of bloated rain drops clunking down on us. First day of gray fog tongue lapping around everything, licking up the sunshine. First day that it’s 38 degrees F with light rain and a high of 46 F on the afternoon’s horizon. First day of Butter Butt (aka Papi the ginger blade) whining for freedom and first day of Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) begging to see what I’m eating. Yes, it’s Jan. 1, 2024. A new year.

Today’s music was heard in the car yesterday. Hooking a few loose Neurons with its vocals, they began whispering and humming it throughout the evening. By this morning, they’d swayed other Neurons into joining them. Now they’re all singing it together in the morning mental music stream (Trademark first).

I knew little of the song or the performer. Looked both up when I came home yesterday. The song, “Lose Control”, was released by Teddy Swims in 2023. June. It peaked at number 1 on the Billboard’s Hot 100 in March of 2024. News to me; it was relatively fresh to my ears but my wife knew it. Guess I wasn’t tuning into the right stations. I’d not heard much of Swims and the net tells me that he didn’t get much recognition until this song made it. Well, I’m happy he’s achieved success with it. Hope you enjoy.

Continuing my day of firsts, I must finish my first cuppa coffee, take my first shower, do my first shave and my first exercises. We’re not really ones for celebrating a new year. The shadows cast from 2024 shave our hopes for the new one. Today’s festivities won’t be about welcoming 2025. We’re instead taking an ice cream cake to a friend’s house to celebrate her birthday. I will echo what a friend passed on to me: courage.

Cheers

January 1, 2025 2

Thursday’s Theme Music.

Today is Thursday, December 26, 2024. Five more days to the year. A year stamped with historic and personal significance. Wonder how 2025 will compare at this time next year.

Gray. Rainy. Chilly. Call it 44 F. Light rain. This is winter in Ashlandia. Snow hugs things above three or four thousand feet, looks like at a glance. Down here, we’re stuck in the gray. Sunshine muted through gray clouds from mountain to mountain to mountain. Gray clouds as far as I can see, looking down into the valley. And rain.

Yes, I’m complaining.

The cats are not, however. After a night of howling wind and incessant rain, Papi dragged in his wet Butter Butt and found a warm space to sleep off the day. Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) had already set the example, staying in, finding a comfy zone, nodding into slumber.

Late post as I spent the morning writing. One of those days when the muses arrived early. The house was quiet and the coffee was hot, so. Seated myself at the laptop and added 2,500 words. Excited by the twist added. See if it stands revision, editing, and further thinking.

Today’s music selection was made by The Neurons after a friend’s comment yesterday. A decade older than moi, she’s not known for her colorful language. But there she was making a risque, off-color comment at the Christmas bash. As we reacted and laughed, she turned as red as Santa’s outfit. Net result: The Neurons have “Dirty Mind” by the brilliant Prince playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark filthy).

Well, deep breath. Dredge up some positive energy. Here we go again. Let’s start with the music. Cheers

December 26, 2024 0

Twosda’s Theme Music

Mood: Merryholidaysism

December 24, 2024 has claimed Twosda in Ashlandia, where the beer is local and cold. Rain fell in clunk drops all night, yielding to an un-Christmasy morning fog. Rain and sunshine have since warred around 43 degrees. Low will be 36 F and the high will be 46 F, cutting a narrow band through the day.

While Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) has shrugged off the weather and remains inside, Butter Butt (previously known as Papi the ginger blade, but also once known as Meep) continues his rigorous testing to verify that better weather is not available through a different door. Several times when he was left in through the front door, he immediately galloped to the back door for egress, as if time was now some critical aspect of his testing.

Beer with friends was done last night as we slid our weekly greet and drink up from Wednesday to Monday due to some holiday happening on Wednesday. Small gathering of the faithful but family members augmented our numbers. A fun time was experienced, as it always is. We raised our glasses in salute of new possible states, Canada, Greenland, and Panama, the latest things PINO-elect Trump has floated. TBS, except for Canada, he hasn’t actually proposed these places be states. As always, he vaguely intones what might happen, suggesting anything is possible. Anything except sanity, sure. Someone suggested Trump has generated more weirdness-based statements because other world events drew the news media’s attention; he thus issued ideas to get the spotlight back on hisself.

I took it on myself to walk the .75 miles down to the watering hole and back. I’ve done the walk many times and know that it used to take me fourteen minutes. Going wasn’t too far of a challenge, as it’s a slight downhill slope all the way, and it was early-ish, and the weather was almost balmy. Returning up the hill, buffeting by wind, spit on by rain, a few pints sloshing around inside me, consumed twenty-two minutes. By the end, my foot was a flaming riot of irritation. Some tender care and soothing words made it right in a while.

In accordance with the rules and customs, I would now air my grievances, as it’s part of that holiday, Festivus. But I’ve pretty much aired my grievances all year, not holding back to wait for one day to spout off. With that out of the way, I turn attention to the music. Staying with the whole X-mas idea, The Noel Neurons brought Eric Clapton singing and playing “Cryin’ Christmas Tears” to the morning mental music stream (Trademark wrapped). Hope you enjoy it.

Hope your days are comfy and joyous no matter what holiday you celebrate, or if you celebrate none at all. Here’s the music. Back to my regularly scheduled coffee and writnig. Cheers