Here we go, the end of the month, Thursday, March 31, 2022. About a quarter of 2022 has fled into history. Gray cloud layers in the west fondle the pines on the ridges. Broken clouds up north hover like an anxious herd ready to flee. In the east and south, smaller, tattered pats yield to sunshine and blue sky. Are you up for rain? It might come. Might not, too. Just be a brief spit, probably, if it does.
Sunshine trickled in at 6:55 AM. The sun will do the fade at 7:35 this evening. Temperatures hunker in at 44 F right now, with a cold, northern edge to it, like winter is saying, let me stay. A high of 58, not too ambitious, is possible.
I went out with the cats this morning to feel the air. They found sun pools and stayed. I shivered and slipped back in. Somehow, in that process, the neurons decided “Take Me to the Pilot” by Elton John (1970) fit the moment and inserted it into the morning mental music stream.
Stay positive, etc. Sorry, I need my coffee. Here’s the song. Cheers
Mottled gray nimbostratus clouds stretched across the valley from the mountains and ridges on this Wednesday. The clouds and news cycles leave me feeling gray and tired. It’s mid-week, too, the end of a wearying month, a week out from a trying week. My complaints are first world mutterings about losing friends, the weather, inflation, oh, and what will I do with myself today? It’s darker times for too, too many people. Damn, shouldn’t really write these things until I’ve had some coffee, done a Wordle and a Sudoku. Doing those always gives me a boost, as if successfully solving these silly games can be applied to life, to the world situations. I feel like the fool upon the hill.
It’s March 30, 2022, March’s penultimate day, then April takes the stage. I’m holding my breath to see what she might bring.
Sunrise kicked in at 6:57 AM and sunset will be at 7:34 PM. Temperatures have dipped again under the umbrella of rain ruling the area. The temperature is 46 and the high will be 56 F.
My dream mind was busy creating complex scenarios full of bright colors. I was not young in these dreams. Numbers were prominent features. Scribbling them out left my fingers knotted and my mind busy, trying to figure out WTF is going on in my head.
Of course, I’m writing. I’m in that stage of my novel writing process where scenes and ideas leap into the concept, which is still the broadest of sketchiest ideas. Thirteen characters are on hand, plus two cats and three dogs, and the ship. All of the characters have become someone other than expected when I sketched their basics in my head and documents. Like the muses are sticking their tongues out at me, taunting, “You don’t know anything.” They’re right. Every leap and change encountered makes me ask, “Wait, why.” They reply, “Just write. The answer will come.” I don’t know that I have that much faith or courage. Still, it’s an entertaining, satisfying, challenging, frustrating, exciting, despairing, exhausting process. I highly recommend it.
Hah. Had to break off writing this to attend a floof request. Immediately began writing in my head; the muses instantly said, okay, now this happens. I said, “WTF? Seriously?” Yeah, they answer. Yeah.
As you might imagine, the morning mental music stream is busy this AM, too. Looking out windows, thinking about writing, dreams, weather, mood, news, past, and future, I saw so many birds busy with spring rites. Jays, robins, sparrows, finches, wrens, crows were all energetic. Bit uplifting. Out of that morass came a Nelly Furtado song, “I’m Like A Bird” (2000). Where her song is about flying away and flying around, my thoughts are more about rising and falling with the beatings of wings, following a course when it seems like everything is a whim.
Stay positive, test negative — do you know this one? Good. Here’s the music. Excuse me while I see the coffee man for a fix.
We’ve reached another milestone, a day that ends in ‘y’. This one is a Tuesday.
It’s March 29, 2022, for those of you playing calendar bingo. Sunrise came at — ta da! — 6:59 AM. Sunset will be at 7:33 PM.
A weak sunrise was experienced, one like a cup of tea made with a tea bag that’s already serviced a dozen cups as tattered rain clouds still harrumphed across the blue. We had a few stretches of steady rain yesterday, one bit of that which hit five on the Floof Scale. I always use the Floof Scale to measure precipitation. A five meant, find cover, it’s coming down. Ten is head for high ground and hang on.
Average spring temperatures remain the norm. The digits sit at 48 F now. We expect 67 F today. Back out to weed this afternoon.
Today’s music was brought on by yesterday’s writing session. I’d been finger dancing on a kb for a while as the muses whipped my back and urged more writing, faster. Stopping for a breath, I discovered the digits said it was almost four PM. The day had slid past in a word sprawl. The neurons, catching on to my surprise about the time, began singing, “Time, time, ticking, ticking away,” repeating that chorus. They were testing me, of course. “The Last Worthless Evening”, Don Henly, 1988, The End of the Innocence, I told my neurons. To reward me for getting it right, they started playing the song, and now it’s stuck in the morning mental music stream.
Stay positive, test negative, and remain alert to what’s going on. Here’s the music. I’m gonna go treat the neurons to a cuppa java. Cheers
Monday, March 28, 2022, is out of the gate and running. The sun slipped into the valley at 7:01 AM and will slip away at 7:32 PM. The temperature is a comfy 52 degrees F but the high will probably top off at 60 as rain is in the tea leaves.
No dreams were in my head this morning. It happens, but it always feels weird. Like, what happened to the dreams? Why aren’t they there?
What is there is music. Tom Jones is singing in the morning mental music stream. So are the Beatles, Who, Stones, and 21 Pilots. What’s it all mean? I queried the neurons but they’re not saying. It might all have to do with being up late writing last night. Was about to close the files for the newest work in progress, The Light of Memories, and shut down the computer when I thought, let me start this one scene so I don’t lose that thread. Forty-five minutes later, the scene was finished, and two others were started. I don’t generally like writing late because the neurons start running around like adults at a beer festival, which isn’t conducive to sleep.
The neurons have quieted. Into the silence, they’ve brought up “Fell on Black Days” by Soundgarden from, like, 1994. An interesting choice, a dark but strangely mellow tune. Used to listen to it during the SF Bay area commute. Guess it reminds the neurons of better times and places.
Here’s the music. Stay positive, test negative, etc. You know the drill. What’s that, neurons? Yes, you’re right, it is time for coffee, or, as I call it, coffee time.
We’re in cloud city this Sunday, March 27, 2022, facing a temperature of 54 F. It’s expected to go up to 70. The sun bounced a feeble few rays our way at 7:02 AM. Sunset is expected at 7:31 PM.
Some of my balance has returned. It feels like a proper Sunday. Yardwork plans are in the offing. I’ve gone out, pulling weeds and trimming things, in the afternoon a few days this week. We cleaned yesterday, then I walked for a few miles on my own. The sun was full and strong, and it was beautiful to see the flowers in bloom, green flushing the lawns again, and leaves filling trees’ branches.
On the DIY front, I did buy a new thermostat and installed it Friday, which fixed the heating issue. Fifty dollars at the local hardware store, it’s a mild upgrade to the one I’d installed in this place about fifteen years ago. I reckon it’s the fifth thermostat that I’ve installed in my lifetime. The first was one with a mercury switch, a long time ago in a duplex that we rented.
My neurons are having fun with me this morning, inserting an old song, “Polly Wolly Doodle”, into the morning mental music stream. I haven’t heard that song in ages but remember singing it in an elementary school class with the teacher at the piano. You should hear my neurons snickering and chortling as the song goes round and round. I answered their efforts with that classic retort, “How old are you?” That should’ve put them into their place, but they reacted by pumping the 1999 Blink 182 song into the stream, “What’s My Age Again”. More of their mischief. Although it’s been a featured theme song before, I haven’t had any coffee and don’t feel like arguing with them. So, here we go, folks.
Stay positive, test negative, adjust as needed to the changing situation, and stay alert. Don’t let complacency take you down. I won’t, once I have some coffee.
Welcome to Satsunmon, the day that feels like three days rolled into one. It does not really feel like Saturday to me. Has more of a Sunday vibe but with low Monday energy.
Today is March 26, 2022. Just five days left to use those coupons that expire on March 31, 2022. Use ’em if you got ’em.
Sunrise was another flat affair, as though the sun didn’t really want to show up. It came at 7:04 AM. The sun’s tail-end experience will be at 7:30 PM. It’s chilly for now, with that sun struggling to come up with watts to warm, 47 F now, but we expect a high of 75 today.
It seemed like both my cats walked around yesterday looking for the one who passed. They considered chairs and corners, favorite resting spots, etc. It really seemed like they were asking themselves, “Where is he? I don’t see him anywhere.” Or maybe they saw him everywhere. I went back and read a post that talked about the cats’ relationships at the time, “The Tale of Two Cats” posted in Juy, 2016. Boo had joined us the previous November, so he wasn’t really with us that long. Nice to see how much better Boo, Tucker, and Papi (aka Meep) were getting along by the end. They remained wary but the growling, hissing, and fighting was pretty much gone.
Had a good laugh over some tweets this AM. My spouse is a big fan of AITA on Reddit. Well, Elle Em did a twist on Twitter, AITA from a feline perspective.
Multiple songs vie for the neurons’ attention from the morning mental music stream. Among these are Rice A Roni jingle, “Brand New Key”, “All These Things That I’ve Done”, “Happy”, and the theme music from “Shaft”. But eventually “Roll With It” by Oasis from 1995 herded the neurons onto one tune.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the shots, you know? Speaking of shots, I think I’ll have a few shots of hot water poured through ground roasted beans. Can you say coffee?
Welcome to the Day of Frig, or Friday. Can you frig off on Friday? Does the expression ‘frig off’ owe anything to the Germanic Goddess, Frigg? Maybe she went about telling people that.
It’s March’s last day. Won’t be sorry to see the rear of March, 2022. Started out solid, but soured. For the record, the date is March 25, 2022.
Sunrise came in like it was half-asleep at 7:06 AM, although plenty of light was showing up much earlier than that. I always like that about this time of year, how the sun’s presence is announced in a false dawn almost an hour before. Sunset is due at 7:29 PM. It’s a chilly spring morning, 52 F, on our way to 67.
The heat didn’t come on this morning. It was chilly outside, yes, but we usually have heat. I checked and it was 66 in the house. The thermostat says ‘Heat On’, but I don’t hear any heating sounds issuing. I suspect that I’m to blame. I had to change the batteries in the thermostat yesterday — it’s a semi-smart one, with several different heating or cooling combos that that can be set for different periods of the day — and dropped it. Might have knocked some of its delicates askew. Either that, or it’s the stupid controller card again. The controller card has been replaced before, and this doesn’t exist the same symptoms. I’m better on the thermostat and will install and try a new one later today.
The morning mental music stream is aswirl with chaotic song fragments. I’m settling for a Jackson Browne song from his Lawyers in Love album of 1983. I believe I’ve used it before but I’m too lazy to look today. These lines hooked me as being the right theme music for today:
I know it’s late and you’re already down You ain’t ready for people around I’m gonna tell you something I found out Whatever you think your life is about Whatever life may hold in store Things will happen that you won’t be ready for
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as science dictates for the situation, and get the shots when needed. I’m almost ready to rock. Just need a little coffee first. Cheers
A Steve McQueen sort of quiet cool reigns today, Thursday, March 24, 2022. The sun spit some rays into the sky at 7:08 AM. Light came up but warmth is still to follow. We’re sitting at 47 F but are expecting a high of 74. Hazy blue rules over us, with a few larger clouds peeking around the ridges but it looks like we’re set for a day of sunshine. Sunset comes at 7:28 PM.
The cats are quiet today. Sick cat lingers on. He gave me a scare last night. I’d let him out the front to enjoy some fresh air. I was with him, then turned my back for a minute, and he was gone. I thought, I’ll probably never see him again. Broke my heart thinking of him out there in the cold, waiting to die. I cursed myself for my stupidity. My spouse and I donned flashlights and walked around, searching and calling for forty-five minutes. He neither showed nor answer. Then, lo’, two hours later, he was back at the front door.
I’ve been meditating on of my friend’s death, and my short history with him. I’ve only known him ten years. He was an intelligent, earnest, amiable guy. I met him through Brains on Beer, an informal group of retired scientists and engineers who like to drink beer and talk science, the arts, and politics. I was member number seven. Only one of the original six remain, but we’ve managed to expand to twelve. I advocated setting up a gofundme to take donations in his name for some of his charities, and the others agreed, so I’ll be doing that today.
These losses — the friend and sick cat’s waning battle — set me on a mental memory roadshow. Before living on Oregon, I lived in California for fourteen years. After moving to Oregon, business kept taking me to California for a few more years, so I have California on my mind. My neurons noticed and now “California Dreamin'” by the Mamas and the Papas (1965) in on the morning mental music stream’s PA system. It’s been featured as theme music before, but it’s a solid song and will work again. I like this video of it from the Ed Sullivan Show. Hope you enjoy it, too.
And now the neurons are whispering, “Pardon, sir, might we have a bit o’coffee for the blood?” Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the shots as needed. Have a better one. Cheers
Today is Wednesday, March 23, 2022. I’m still processing my friend’s death yesterday, Mike. It’s remote and abstract to me at this point, astonishing and bewildering. My neurons follow paths for what it must be like in Ukraine as people lose their friends and loved ones suddenly to gunfire and explosion. That life is so treasured to us, that people’s deaths leave such gaping holes, that we work so hard on medicine and health, exercising and dieting to prevent sickness and death, and then that humans kill one another for bizarre fucking reasons when other avenues of co-existence are available, renders me to sighs and head shaking.
A faded azure sky embraces the sun. Full spring is in effect. Sunrise came at 7:09 AM and sunset will take at 7:26 PM. It’s 56 degrees F right now, on its way to a 68 F high. Should be a lovely day.
My beer group is meeting tonight. Mike was a large part of that. Plans had been made for me to hand off a book that was loaned to me, giving it to Mike because he was visiting with the book’s owner. Now, change.
Meanwhile sick cat steadily declines. Eating is next to impossible for him due to tumors. I have the back door open, and he made his way out to sit in the sunshine on the patio. Papi has made a solid recovery. I had the door open yesterday afternoon, and that boy galloped in and out, tail up, playing hide and seek with me. Tucker is solidly recovered, too, reclaiming his space on the bed by my head last night, talking to me this morning about his food and drink requirements, and eating with gusto.
My cheeky neurons are playing Del Shannon’s “Runaway” from 1961 in the morning mental music stream. I was five when it came out, but it was a big hit and part of the AM rock and roll rotation for years.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax.
A stratus layer mothers the sun, protecting it from our prying eyes. Theoretically, we had sunrise at 7:11 this morning, but few bright rays have slipped past the cloud shield. The temperature is hovering at 46 degrees F as a fine mist drifts and falls, but today’s high is forecast to be 77 F before sunset at 7:25 PM.
Today is Tuesday, March 22, 2022, or 03222022 in the American style.
I was up with cats last night. Another — a different — sick one, as Tucker puked and went lethargic. My wife is sleeping in another bed adjusted for her back issues. Tucker, who sleeps with me 99 percent of the nights, slept with her. I missed my furry boy and his taps on my hands and nose, and deep, throbbing purr. I asked her this morning, how he was. “Oh, he’s fine,” she said. Oh, he ate? “I don’t know.” Did he drink water? “I don’t know.” Did he use the litter box? “I don’t know.” How do you know he’s okay? “He seems okay.” That is not how it works.
Meanwhile, sick cat took Tucker’s absence as an opportunity to cuddle against me. I pet, scratched, and spoke for him for long hours in the night. His ability to eat is diminishing and he’s fading, despite hopes. Of course, I used the time to write in my head. It wasn’t the plan; the writer is always there, and the muses said, “Hey, while you’re not busy doing anything.” They’re very single-minded. My mind shouted, “Eureka,” as some new and surprising vector took shape. Of course, it must be pursued today.
A 1986 Moody Blues song, “Your Wildest Dreams”, settled into the morning mental music stream. The neurons latched onto after a few dreams. Now it’s on loop and must be released into the net so the neurons can go on to other music.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the shots when you can. The neurons are calling for coffee, threatening me with a medley of 1910 Fruitgum Company melodies if I don’t comply. So off I go. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 