Tag: retirement

Frieda’s Theme Music

Sunshine broke on through, just as the doors urged. Frieda, April 4, 2025 is a windy, sunny, warm spring day. High and thin clouds scrub some blue sheen of the sky. It’s 52 F and heading to the high sixties.

Papi the ginger blade was so happy. At first. Prancing into a sunshine pool, he washed and lounged. Then, wind ruffled his fur and pushed his ears around. The little Butter Butt pressed to come in, pronto.

A shopping day is planned. Our household subjects have veered between Trump’s impact on our personal finances and situation to buying a bidet attachment or something. “Should we get an attachment or a seat?” my wife asks. She’s rethinking herself.

“I’ll research and report back,” I reply.

“I’m not even going to look at my 401K,” she says. She means that. I will discreetly check it for her. Keep the results to myself. Mine has lost about twelve percent of its value. My other stock holdings have dropped ten percent. It’s early, though. I consider divesting all.

Today’s strong jobs report surprised me. But, then again, no. I’ve read of substantial business closings. Layoffs and terminations. Food traffic down in stores. Sales down. I’ve not read of any companies gushing, “Look, we’re hiring! Woo hoo!” Trump’s administration puts out those jobs numbers. He’s a known liar. So are the lackeys populating his regime. I’m sure they looked at the first set of numbers and told one another, “Oh, no, we can’t publish those. He’ll fire us all.” So they doctored the jobs number to look good.

PINO Trump tweeted about it this morning. Sorry, he X’d about it. “GREAT JOB NUMBERS, FAR BETTER THAN EXPECTED. IT’S ALREADY WORKING.”

What does he think is already working? Farmers are being hit, Federal workers have been shelved, tourism has dropped and is expected to drop more. The stock market keeps dropping…well, if you’re not in the Trumphosphere, you know. Projections are not rosy. First quarter reports are going to be interesting.

A friend added comments yesterday to one of my posts. They linked to a Jimi Hendrix song, “Still Raining, Still Dreaming”. Hearing that provoked The Neurons to begin different Jimi Hendrix Experience songs in my head. I ended up with “Stone Free” in the morning mental music stream. The song coincides with my urge to take a trip, see the coast. I’ve been working on my wife for such a trip. Her stars aren’t yet aligned enough. That doesn’t stop me from joining Hendrix to sing, “I got to, got to, got to get away right now.” But I’ll hold on for my other to be ready.

Difficult to find a good video of “Stone Free”. I went with this one, despite its sound glitches. I enjoy the members playing and seeing Hendrix’s fast, meticulous playing.

Coffee has made its morning visit to my body. I’m rockin’ and arollin’. Hope you have an awesome experience today, wherever you are. Cheers

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: adultuated

Autumn continues it new reign of weather, pale blue sky, bold but late sunshine, goldenish green trees. Upta 56 F now, with 80 F on the horizon. 80 F makes a fine temperature for Ashlandia. If you ever vote for the temp for this place, I urge vote 80.

Told my wife yesterday after we got some things done, “You know, as I look back on October, I’m impressed with how much we got done.” Cuz this is Wednesday, October 2, 2024.

I enjoy watching Papi. Papi is the ginger blade component of our felinious duo. Younger. Very outdoorsy. Coming in the back door, he avoids stepping on the mat. Like it’s lava. Then inside, he circles around the outside of the sofa, to the room’s far side, like he’s a scout in enemy territory. Cuts back in to the rug under the dining table. Like it’s a safe base. Talks to me from there, tail up, back arched, whiskers brimming. I make inquiries about his appetite and willingness to eat. Tail still standing like a sundial, he races alongside as I head for food prep. Gives me some vocal encouragement. Then sits. Patient. Waiting for the food. Final burp of pleased noise as his bowl lands. Sitting, body adjustments, because he must be postured just so, it’s a thing of his, he commences.

Brother-in-law’s mother passed away. 92. COVID pneumonia. She, like all of her children, including BIL, are Trump supporters. But her grandchildren are not. Sorry for the loss, etc, but my emotional sea churns with conflicting currents.

I went out with the cats and enjoyed the still fresh air. They groomed and tended to sounds while I just did breathing exercises and reflected. For some reason that only The Neurons know, Tom Petty ripped into “You Wreck Me” from 1995 in the morning mental music stream (Trademark wrecked). Could be simple association. (Ya think?) October 1974, I entered the military, October, 1995, I dished the retirement papers to the service. This song is from ’95. So. Not saying the military wrecked me. Not at all.

Stay positive and lean forward and vote blue next month. Coffee and I already rendezvoused on familiar grounds. Here’s the music, and away we go.

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: pithynated

It’s a splashing autumn day. Lofty clouds of the decorative sort keeps the sky a lighter shade of morning. Sunshine stumbles in around the clouds to take us up from the high 50s to the high 70s. Yellows and reds are mixing it up with the trees’ greenery. No oranges in residence among the foliage yet.

Welcome to Wednesday, September 25, 2024. Please stand while we sing Ashlandia’s anthem, which sounds a lot like a repurposed rendition of “O Canada.”

I’m in a news trench, reading about our world and the many ways it thrills and disappoints. Find your own examples, I’m not regurgitating them here.

Autumn and the floofs are getting along like oceans and pirates. It’s a mellow grooming, gazing, ear-twitching still life of them in the back as a cloud interrupts their sunbath. Mild annoyance ruffle their whiskers as wind curses the yard. Papi the ginger blade looks especially affronted by this incursion. A place must be found to rest without wind’s prying fingers. He begins stretches and a hunt but bird noises and leafy sounds must be given attention.

Thinking on how autumn seems to have come around, and The Neurons place a song in the morning mental music stream (Trademark imploding). Green Day came out with “When I Come Around” in 1995. I was still a military member then, unspecting that I was on the cusp of retirement. I was over twenty by then, so I’d done my time. I liked my life there but the Air Force noticed I’d been at Onizuka Air Base in Sunnyvale, California, for four years. Time to be moved. They offered me an Inspector General role in Space Command which I nixed. They then presented Whiteman AFB in Missouri for my next tour of duty. That didn’t appeal so I did the necessary ink and walked.

Well, you know the standard closing about strength, positivity, and leaning. Vote blue, of course, like you’re sane and not out to gouge other’s civil rights to better your own existence because you’re a narrow-minded GOP twat. Yes, my black brew is talking through me. I offer the music now out of Woodstock 94, a scant three decades past.

Cheers

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: Stockup

Ashlandianers have the giggles over the cooling temperatures. “It’s only going to be 99 degrees today,” we gushed to one another yesterday. “And it’s only going to be 97 tomorrow. Woo hoo!”

Yes, everything is relative. But after a week of record-setting triple digit heat, you can understand our happiness.

Today, Thursday, July 11, 2024, finds us at 71 F right now, with 97 coming over the horizon. Mild smokiness hazes the mountain’s pine shapes but there’s little graying of the blue sky. PurpleAir shows no unhealthy areas of air in our area, another woo hoo moment. Our largest near fire, Salt Creek, is about 90% lined, 16% contained. Mop up is going on in Division A and some parts of Division F. Division W is less tightly lined and they’re using dozers to work that. They’re contining to run 24 hour shifts and are making steady progress.

The Beer Fete for my retiring buddy went well last night. Twelve retired individuals – ten male, two female — two engineers, two botanists, a forensic microbiologist, a hazmat expert, two teachers, a metallurgist, a doctor, the professor emeritus, and me — were gathered. Yeah, we prefer small groups, thanks. The gang chose to sit indoors. Although the temperature had dropped into the mid 90s by then and we had shade, a vicious warm wind was snapping at us. A vote was taken and in we went to air-conditioned socializing. We mostly talked politics. A vote showed that President Biden should remain in the race, 10-2.

Despite yesterday’s lower temperature, cooling the house in the evening proved difficult. The heat was just hanging. I had doors and windows wide open. Papi and Tucker (pronounced Tuckah) both exclaimed, “To hell with this,” and went out to cool off in the Ashlandia serengeti which is my backyard.

For reasons known only to them (and they’re not sharing), The Neurons have “Sweet Freedom” by Michael McDonald (1986) playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark sunbaked). So although I lack a ‘real’ reason for playing it on this warming morning, it’s an uplifting tune and I’m going with it.

Be positive and strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue. Coffee and I are doing our thing. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Saturday in Ashlandia. February 25, 2023. Plenty of sunshine heading our way. People walk dogs by the house. A few tightly encased joggers take the hill. A robin patrols the backyard. Scrub jaws hop the front lawn. Cats lap up sunshine in living room pools.

It’s 37 F now, up from sunrise’s 29 F. The sun’s entrance was 6:53 AM. Exit from Ashlandia is expected at 5:52 this evening, after we’ve gone into the fifties. About 97 percent of our local snow is melted. Icy pockets remain in hollows, dips, and shadowy places where the sun don’t shine.

The Neurons are playing “Bitter Sweet Symphony” by the Verve in the morning mental music stream. My wife and I heard it in the car while running errands yesterday. The song came out in 1997, after I’d been retired from the military for over a year, after I’d bought a new car, and was basically living a new life. The song was right for the time, which found my circumstances improving. When we listened yesterday, K asked about part of the song. “It songs like he’s singing ‘moan’ to me.” No, it’s mold, as in this is how I’m molded.

Papi wants out to scout the terrain and inspect his environment. Stay pos. I’m off for coffee and breakfast. I’m thinking about making savory oatmeal. Here’s the Verve. Cheers

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Friday’s Theme Music

Friday has arrived. Around the nation, in work stations and meetings, cars and on Zoom, I hear people smiling and telling one another, “Thank God it’s Friday.” TGIF. For shift workers, it might not be Friday. And wait staff, hospitals, and others associated with jobs whose tasks and activities don’t recognize a standard work week, they’re probably muttering, “Is it Friday?” Then they think how the weekend might spin. It’s a four-day weekend in the U.S. For, this is Good Friday and the First Day of Passover. Sunday is Easter. Many schools are closed for today and Monday. The change will do some folks some good. Your life might vary. Let’s hope some shooter somewhere doesn’t decided to make this a more memorable weekend.

Today is April 15, 2022. Hey, your taxes done? Sunrise was another glorious show, a sharp dawning of light piercing the sky as the mountains were cleared at 6:30 AM. Temperatures are at 37 F outside of my house on the valley wall. Sundown will take over at 7:52 PM. Our high should be in the fifties again. Another winter weather advisory is in effect, for snow over 2500, 2-6 inches. A lot of snow for April, but appreciated, given our dry winter and drought conditions.

My dreams featured waterfalls. Naturally, the neurons are playing “Waterfalls” by TLC (1995) in the morning mental music stream. (In fairness to the neurons, they first started with the theme song to the Mouseketeers.) 1995 was the year I retired from the USAF, and I remember the song playing during my commute in my final months, wondering if I was chasing waterfalls. It worked out well, though, for me. The AIDS epidemic of the era was behind the song’s lyrics, something I later learned. While I took it as a song about doubt, it’s more of a song of worry, pain, and desperation, and a parent trying to protect their child. It’s much different from my dreams, where I remember realizing I was standing in a waterfall, looking over its edge and thinking, “Neat. What power and beauty.” In the manner of dreams, the waterfall infused me with a sense of strength, and I walked away feeling invigorated.

Stay positive, etc. Hope your weekend goes well, whether it begins today or another day. I’m off for coffee. Here’s the song. Cheers

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Come aboard my friends to the show that never ends, the water’s rough but the music is fine. Tis Wednesday, November 10, 2021, a gray bannered day in this realm. Sun and blue are trying to break through but the mean ol’ clouds keep denying them time. The world’s spin brought the sun’s presence up at 6:55 AM and it’ll be spun away from us at 4:55 PM. Meanwhile, chill is the word for the air. 42 F now, 53 and rain in the near future hours. Grab some rain gear or be wet if you’re going walking.

Had a banging walk yesterday. Pushed myself further, harder, faster against a soft, gloomy wind and a tranquil gray and blue sky. Wound up sweat drenched. Always feels good to sweat like that, hear the muscles say, “Hello, what’s going on.”

A raft of dreams carried me through the night. Documented a few from that nocturnal journey. Left me on the bedside this AM, thinking, life is a riddle. My brain added, “I’m really stumped.” I then said, hmmm, and remembered those are lyrics from something. Wasn’t until ten, fifteen minutes, while in the can, that the lyrics were fit to a melody and group, emerging, self-assembled, as “Gotta Get Away” by The Offspring, 1995. That was the year of my military retirement, and the sentiment, gotta get away, was strong by the time I put my papers in. This was after turning down some assignments. One was plum, the other sucked, and the third was bizarre. Ergo, gotta get away.

Some lyrics reminder from the song:

I tell you, something just ain’t right
My head is on loose but my shoes are tight
Avoiding my friends ’cause they all bug
Life is like a riddle and I’m really stumped
If you reason, don’t you know
Your own preoccupation is where you’ll go
Being followed, I look around
It’s only my shadow creeping on the ground

h/t to AZLyrics.com

Stay positron, test negatron, wear a mask as needed to protect yourself and others, and get the vax and booster when you can for the same reasons. Here’s my coffee and the music. Cheers

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Two Unheard Questions Dream

We were located in an old service station garage. Tall glass garage doors along either side. It’s raining on one side. Just splatter against the window. Through it, I can see another building. I know it’s a coffee house. I can see one person in there, a tall, slender, white, blonde woman with short, curly hair. I want to go over and have coffee. I will when I’m done, I keep telling myself.

I’m conducting two activities in parallel. In one, I’m in charge of a class where people are learning to play music to calm and relax people. Mixed in with the people learning that are people there for advice on retired life. Both are packed classes. One group is filling out paperwork and asking me questions; the other group is selecting music, playing it on radios, and asking me questions. I walk among them, helping, talking, instructing. We’re all tired. We’ve been up a long time. I’d been up over twenty-four hours. I want to go get coffee. Then go to sleep.

We’re done. Classes are finished. The class members all lie down on the floor to rest just for a few minutes. Two ask me questions, one from each class. Settling on the floor with them, I answer, “I didn’t hear your questions. Were they about music or retiring?”

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Deer Grove Fields Dream

I’d arrived at a convention. Hugely crowded. I realized two events were being held simultaneously; one was some sort of military retirement celebration. The other was a writing conference. I was there for the latter.

I arrived alone but soon saw other writers who I knew. We milled and spoke together, trying to grasp where we’re supposed to go. I joked to others about the confluence, as I found the situation mildly humorous. We drifted apart, trying to find where to go. I wanted a place to sit down, wait for the crowd to thin out, and then find where I was to go. I was working on the impression that the military event had ended, and then the writing thing would begin.

I encountered a military person whom I knew slightly. I asked what was going on. He told me that the Chief had retired. Making small talk, I asked, “Oh, where was he stationed last?” “Deer Grove Fields,” the other replied, and departed. I’d never heard of that place and wondered if I’d heard right.

I saw another writing friend. She was wearing a blue skirt and a blue top. She mentioned that she’d met the Chief, describing him as a fascinating person. He’d been stationed at Deer Grove Fields. As we nodded and talked, I realized that she was clearing tables. Apparently she was working there.

Tables were all filled but it was a communal system with strangers sharing tables. Finding a place, I sat. Another writing friend, Jill, a small, older woman with short hair, was at the table. I knew that she’d just won an award for a story she’d written. After congratulating her, I asked what she was working on as I set up my laptop. She told me, “Nothing,” and then said, “Deer Grove Fields.” I realized that’s what the others had said but didn’t understand why she said it now. I assumed she was trying to remember something and when it came to her, she’d said it aloud. Then she said, “That’s where the Chief was assigned.”

The dream ended.

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