Happy Friday to the carousel riders. We’ve come around again.
It’s Friday, Feb. 27, 2023. The sun staked its claim at 7:05. Clear skies and sunshine hold court over Ashlandia while swelling clouds jealousy circle the valley and mutter threats about taking over. 34 F now, and the weather gurus say it will climb to 47 F before day’s end. Sunset: 5:46 this evening.
Nursing a sore ankle. Leaped off a wall, landed badly on uneven pavement, had to cruise on back home. No swelling or the like, just parts of it saying, “Hey, ouch, stop that, don’t do that.”
Musically, The Neurons have steered me to “Baby’s on Fire” by Brian Eno. I was late as a fan to him, getting introduced to him via King Crimson. Robert Fripp plays guitar on BoF, and it’s a wild, raw sound. Eno is in mind out of conversation with a percussionist friend. As we traded memories, I asked if he listened to any Brian Eno. His expression and voice blew up with enthusiasm. So, this one is for him.
Stay pos. Treat Friday right, or it won’t come again, right? Sure. Coffee is at hand. Here we go, Friday, here we go.
The weather witches (it is too a thing) whisper to me that we’ll be functioning between 30 and 38 degrees F outside, as Winting continues holding on to Ashlandia. The sun blended in at 7:06 AM, a little heat, a little light, then suddenly shafts of brilliant bright, gone before you blink. Clouds will be hanging about throughout the day, Thursday, Feb. 18, 2023. Sunset’s moment comes at 5:45 PM.
Had a relaxing meetup with friends for beers last night, just eight of us for about ninety minutes at a local brewery, Caldera. Good to see them and reflect on news, culture, and life. A quick five was spent remembering horses’ names from movies and television shows. Silver, Buttermilk, Scout, Ol’ Blue, Hidalgo, etc. News of Raquel Welch’s passing had made the news just before we met up, so there was extensive conversation about 1,000,000 Years B.C. from 1967, followed up by a Quest for Fire and Caveman.
Despite the cold temperatures, Papi insisted on braving the temps to prove himself. He was out and then back in ten minutes later, as that sunshine just didn’t cut the cold enough. Part of that experience had be telling him, “I’m going to close the door in three, two, one,” before he made the dash. The Neurons pulled out a song called “After Hours” and slotted it into the morning mental music stream. “After Hours” was released in 1969 but I didn’t know it until the mid-seventies. Stationed at Clark Air Base on a unaccompanied tour, I picked up a Velvet Underground tape, and this song was on it. The Neurons keyed on the words, “But if you close the door,” which is repeated often in the school. It’s a sweet, mellow song.
The wife has a Zoom coffee call in the other room. People who used to live in Ashlandia, who were attending the Y exercise class — you know the one, led by Mary for the last thirty-five years, right? — wanted to see their friends and share their news. K has been attending this Mon-Wed-Fri class since we moved here in 2005. It’s been the key to many social connections, including the book club which she started with five other class members. Membership has changed but they continue to meet once a month. K hosts in March, which means we’ll be doing a big clean.
Stay pos, and carpe diem. I’ll carpe some coffee first. Here’s the music. Cheers
Winting continues to ride Ashlandia, where the children are above average. Snow is melted in the valley’s bosom but look east and snow royally caps the mountainsides. It’s up to 27 F on the way to a 47 degrees F high. Sunshine, vaulting over the horizon like an arriving hero at 7:06 this morning, bullets a blue sky. 5:43 PM will be seen on the clock as the sun does it slow roll exit. It’s February 15, 2023.
My cats are happy with the sunshine but they’re not fond of those low temps. Tucker acted like he was going out but feeling that air on his heavy fur, did and an about face and floofered off. Papi, of course, galloped out per his secret identity, “The Galloping Ginger”, and then banged the door windows for re-admittance sharpish minutes later.
Plans are being planned for house painting, carpet cleaning, and those sort of matters, along with vacation. Yardwork is being given a gimlet eye. Our evening streaming rotates among Hacks, The Last of Us, Frayed, Shrinking, Lockwood and co, Station Eleven, CB Strike, and Astrid. Documentaries and comedy shows are sprinkled in as they become available. No puzzles are being assembled, with no plans to do any. K continues on her diet, pleased with her results. Makes the kitchen an interesting evening experience as we prepare our individual meals. Burners, oven, microwave going, timers ping, buzz, and chime. We dance around each other, plates, foods, and utensils in hand.
Today’s theme music is “Bullet the Blue Sky” by U2 out of 1987. Th Neurons delivered as I read a summary of gun violence in America, 2023. Can’t say it hasn’t changed this year as the rate of shootings increases. Fortunately, naught will be done because needless death is not as important as other matters.
Got coffee, and released Papi back into the sun-soaked rear yard. Stay pos, and own Wednesday. Here’s the tune. Cheers
Happy Valentine Day — or is it Valentine’s Day — or Valentines Day — to you if you’re into that. I’m not. I’ve always considered it the most manufactured of manufactured holidays. My wife, K, was the same when we were younger. She has changed; I haven’t. But then, as she told me when we first dated, “You’re not very romantic, are you?” No, I’m not. I tried being more romantic, but she mocked every effort to be more romantic. So here I am. There’s nature vs. nurture for you.
It’s Tuesday, February 14, 2023. An inch of snow has fallen as part of the great weather warning. They told us we were likely to see six to seven inches in our Ashlandia. People raced around town to buy food and get errands completed before the great storm was upon us. They warned us about it for days. Well, we prepared. But I’d rather be warned and prepared than to not be warned at all.
Sunrise came at 7:09 this morning, not much presence against the dirty white tee shirt that is our morning sky. Temperature is 0 C. Expect a high of 40 F, the weather experts advise, before sunset at 5:42 PM Ashlandia stardard time.
Been addressing Tucker’s health. The big black and white feline suddenly was hobbling and could not jump. He’s aging so I thought, arthritis. Bought some arthritis treats for him. He enjoyed them but he’s always had gum problems and has lost many teeth. They were too much for him. So I crumble a treat each day and put it in about an ounce of hot water, then give him to him with a dropper. It’s made such a difference in his motility, it’s wonderful to witness. The treat is “Pet Naturals Hip and Joint Support Supplement for Cats”. I learned about it from another pet owner a few years ago, and I recommend it.
Have a Fleetwood Mac song called “Never Going Back Again” from 1977 dialed up by The Neutrons. Started from a dream today, but was reinforced by memory. The song came out when I was 21. I was in the military, married, contemplating choices. This song cemented some decisions for me, like, “I’m done with that. Never going back again.”
Stay pos and enjoy your Tuesday, shaping it best that you can. Once I’ve fortified myself with hot black coffee, I’ll try to do the same. Cheers, my friends.
I listened to Alexi’s report. My wife joined me. We were at the breakfast bar, where Alexa nests. “What she say?” my wife asked. I asked Alexa for the weather again.
She finished her report. My wife and I checked the windows. East, south, west. Alexa had said it was mostly sunny. “I don’t see any sunshine,” K said. So it wasn’t just me.
It’s Monday, Feb. 13, 2023. Not a speck of sun is visible past the battleship sky. 34 F out, we anticipate rain and clouds all day and a mid-40s high. Sunrise was at 7:11 this morning and sunset will come at 5:41 PM. Snow warnings are out for tomorrow.
Taxes were filed yesterday. Bedding washed. Smelling the fresh bedding as I climbed into bed summoned childhood experiences. Mom would tuck us in and say, “I washed your sheets today. Smell them. Don’t they smell fresh?” I would do as directed and smell the sheets, and agree, they smelled fresh, like sunshine and wind.
I watched Superbowl LVII, which makes me think, liver. That was Superbowl Liver. Just a weird brain tick. KC Chiefs won, and no serious injuries were reported, so far. K was pleased that KC won. She thinks Mahomes is a cutie pie. She didn’t watch because she didn’t want to jinx him.
From the Superbowl, via The Neurons, I have Huey Lewis and the News singing, “If This Is It” from 1984. The Chiefs lined up for a field goal to take the lead. Eleven seconds left. “This is it,” the announcer said on Fox. “Playing ‘If This Is It’ by Huey Lewis and the News’,” The Neurons said. And so it still plays in the morning mental music stream, and I pass it on to you. Not a bad theme song. It’s Monday – if this is it, fill in the blank.
Stay positive. Cats returned from their outdoor recon. They report that it’s cold and there’s no sunshine. “Tell that to Alexa,” I tell them. “She needs the input.” Reporting live from Ashlandia, here’s the music. Cheers
Winter wonderland has returned to Ashlandia. Temp flutters around 29 F. Fog, ice, and frost lick the environment white. Sun participation was brought in at 7:11 AM. Not that you can swear it. Visibility is sliced to a hundred feet. The sun is much further out, not even a pale orb behind the scenes at the moment.
It’s Feb 12, 2023. Sunday. Today’s high will be sixty-two, the weather gossips whisper. What? 62 F out of this? Don’t make me laugh. It’ll probably happen. Weather, you know. Changeable. Ashlandia’s sunset is due at 5:40 PM. Winter storm warning out for the week’s start. Buckle on cold weather gear as temperatures shift into the freezing zone and clouds deliver rain and snow.
With winter in mind, The Neurons cranked up, Winter – Edgar — “Frankenstein” — and then Johnny and Edgar with “Tobacco Road”. But the little ones finally settled on “Rock and Roll, Hoochie Koo” out of the seventies of last century. The question always worrying my gray functions is, what exactly is a Hoochie Koo? Miriam-Webster’s online dictionary isn’t helpful on the matter. I’ve always associated Hoochie Koochie with belly dancing because that’s what an aunt told me when I was young. But “Koochie koochie, koo,” was used by Mom to tickle and play with us when we were toddlers. My brain is confused.
Anyway, here is the music. Johnny and his band bring it. Hope you have an entertaining Sunday. Coffee is at hand. We have launch. Hoochie koochie.
Saturday’s broken, like the first mornin’. We’re up to Feb. 11, 2023. Plenty of time for this year yet.
Sunshine cracked the day at 7:13 AM, fulfilling dawn’s potential in big way. Blue sky with striations of clouds like towels waiting for the laundry hover around Ashlandia. Sitting at 42 F., the cats are pleased with the sunshine, dry conditions, and temperatures. My spies tell me the weather prophets think we’ll see 52 F before sunshine is put behind Ashlandia’s horizon at 5:38 PM. Tomorrow, the spies whisper, it’ll be in the sixties before another front rolls in and drops us back into the land of rain and snow.
My wife continues her diet. She’s at 21 days and is enjoying its effects. Her RA pain and flares have subsided. Worst part is low energy in her opinion. I note that she’s not as mentally sharp. It’s not mentioned to her because it would depress her. She’s on a huge reading streak, going through two to four books a week, all fiction. She read Four Treasures of the Sky for her book club this week, along with Blake Crouch’s Dark Matter and Becky Chambers’s A Psalm for the Wild-built. She passed the last two on to me, recommending I read them. Dark Matter is on the pile behind Ancillary Sword. A Psalm was read and enjoyed. Fascinating and different concept and interesting story-telling style.
The Neurons have Three Dog Night singing “One” from 1969. I enjoy its drive and harmony. Harry Nilsson’s original version, meanwhile, is harmonically interesting, with a slower tempo, a more thoughtful but sadder experience. The Neurons went with the Dog but I included Nilsson’s version for comparison.
Coffee’s been drunk, breakfast consumed. Time to go write and roll. Stay pos. and have a solid Saturday.
Friday touched down with a gentle burst of smoke from the tires. It’s Feb. 10, 2023. The heat and humidity closed in on my imaginary self. My real self warmed from the furnace’s gentle efforts.
Friday is happy. 37 F out, the Friday plans to entertain Ashlandia with some rain and a high temperature of 52 F. Everything is working to plan for Friday, with the sun breaking out at 7:14 this morning under the shadowy cover which Friday prefers this month. Sundown is established to happen at 5:47. Yesterday cracked 60 in my zone, so let’s hear it for Fourday.
I and mine made it alive to another morning again. No zombies or cougars got my family or cats, nor did severe weather, fire, or earthquakes, so that’s a win. “No More Tears” by Ozzy Osbourne (1991) was in the morning mental music stream, strategically entrenched by The Neurons after I read about Ozzy’s health issues and his declaration, no more tours. Tour morphed into tears in The Neurons’ hands, and here we are. It’s a hard driving song, good for this day. Its lyrics and wordplay fit today’s patina of existent too well for it to not be Friday’s theme music in Feb., 2023.
Stay pos. Enjoy some good coffee. I will, thanks. Have a most excellent Friday, as we used to say in another thread of being. Cheers
Today is Thursday, commonly known as day four of the standard work week. Maybe that’s a used-to-be. Could be different in this 24/7 existence which supposedly rules the U.S. I say supposedly because there are many things not available 24/7. They claim it’s a 24/7 news cycle. We know that’s not true. Politicians and corporations love them a Friday dump because they know that news garners less attention.
I favor using Fourday in honor of Thursday’s tentative origins. Back when the days of the week were being conceptualized, many people wanted to name the days by their order. Weeks weren’t even involved in the first round of thought. Today would have been Nineday because it’s February 9. (2023, BTB). That was rightly criticized as not helpful. Imagine the conversation. “When do you want to get together?” “Nineday, February 9.” Doesn’t add much does it? That’s when the great thinker and philosopher, Whathehellus, stepped up and came up with the days we now use. Whathehellus is also famous for giving us the expression, “What the hell?” Why else do you think we use it?
48 F out in Ashlandia at the mo, cold air bleached warm by rousing sunshine. Solar light splashes in through windows throughout the house’s east and south sides, invoking delightful coziness. 56 F is due up as the high, according to the weather seers. No reason why that won’t be attained can be seen right now, but you know weather and clouds, don’t you? Weather and Clouds, once a proud Brit rock band, now just surfs the sky causes mischief. W&C, as some call them, had their most notable hit with “Shadowing Your Day”, back in the day.
Sol’s presence was noted at 7:15 this morning. Sol will be left out by the world’s ongoing spin at 5:36 PM. Those times are only good for Ashlandia. Your times will vary.
The Neurons planted a couple songs in the morning mental music stream. They’re related. It started with irritation with Papi, our ginger floof. He was going in and out and in and out times three. Poor little one was restless and bored. Naturally, The Neurons responded with The Who, “Squeezebox”, from 1975. But when I finally forced myself awake and out of bed, “Real World” by Matchbox Twenty (1998) was brought up by The Neurons, cause there’s this line, “I wish the real world would just stop hassling me.
Okay, coffee has been consumed (black with a shot of whiskey, of course), as well as brekkie. Time to go write and rule. Stay pos, and make Fourday the best one you can. Here’s the theme music. Cheers
Wednesday has broken. Feb. 8, 2023 has arrived on the calendar’s red carpet. Sunshine splashes through all the southern and eastern windowpanes. Cats find floor beams. The weather advisors say it’s 36 degrees F in my Ashlandia slice, sunny with few clouds, and a high of 56 degrees F on the plate. Sunrise cracked the night at 7:16 this morning while sunset is out over 5:34 PM. That’s enough daylight to lift my spirits and unplug me from that SAD cycling.
Springish clues turn my head to yard clean up and prep. Bushes and trees to be pruned and tidied, more leaves to be cleared from the yard. Want the house painted this year, too. Hiring folks for that.
Breakfast — oats with walnuts and raisins, flavored by cinnamon — has been consumed, cats attended three or four times. Half a cup of coffee drunk, black, no sugar.
My hospice friend is no longer on hospice. He finished the journey, eighty years old. On the other hand, Mom keeps fighting on, delivering news that she has ‘abdominal cocoon syndrome’. Fascinating what happens in our bodies.
I have a song in mind today from 1968, “Pictures of Matchstick Men” by Status Quo. It’s a classic in the sense that it brings home that sixties psychedelic sound. Hope you give it a listen to see if you know it, remember it, like it.
To the clouds and beyond. Stay positive. Make this day yours to remember. More coffee, please. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 