A front has driven in, strewning clouds of different complexities over Ashlandia, giving us variables in lights, shadows, temperatures, and expectations. Sumumn still holds but it’s beginning to look like autmer as trees flirt with new colors in their leaves. Only dropped to the high fifties last night, and today’s high temperature will spank 90 degrees F.
This is Monday, September 23, 2024. You understand that 2024’s ninth month is closing out and there are but 94 days until Kwanzaa, 93 days until Christmas, and 93 days until Hanukkah? There’s also only 43 days until the U.S.’s 2024 elections. Things are getting tight.
Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) inspired today’s musical choice, although coffee contributed. Having indulged in my first hit of black goodness, I saw Tucker came out from eating. Moving slow, his eyes were mostly closed and his tongue was busy going over his whiskes and mouth. Sitting, he commenced to watching.
That’s when The Neurons or somebody caused me to sing, “Tucker. I just fed a kitty named Tucker.” This was done to the tune of “Blue Jean” by David Bowie. Right after that, the 1984 song fired up in my morning mental music stream (Trademark dished). It’s a catchy little Bowie number, jaunty with memorable lines which don’t convey any great depths. How did he do that?
Stay positive, confident, and strong. Lean forward and vote blue in 2024. Coffee has been served in the office; here’s the music. Cheers
It’s Sunday, September 22, 2024. First day of autumn, aka fall, in the northern latitudes. Sumumn is still visiting Ashlandia. Chilly last night at 52 F at our place, the high will pop into the low 80s F today. A relatively windless day, sunshine baths a blue sky where lonely moon offers a pale version of its waning self high in the western sky.
Haven’t read any news this morning. Was just involved with other matters and felt no great urge to jump into war, disasters, politics, tragedy, or weather. I instead read more of my library book, Slough House, by Mick Herron. Entertaining and distracting, it’s just what I required with my Sunday morning cuppa coffee.
Although I’ve been reading about bots and AI off and on recently, a cat inspired today’s song. Messing around with Papi, the ginger blade, so named because of his slender shape, brought the song up. Papi is well established in his ways. After eating, he washes up and then comes for some skrive, which is flooflish for sritch-love. He only stays about eight minutes and then abruptly whirls and leaves. As he departed today, I told him, “Domo arigatō,” after he left the session, continuing, “I appreciate the visit. Come again.”
Click, The Neurons recalled “Mr. Roboto” by Styx and began playing it in the morning mental music stream (Trademark rusty). The song, which seems like it’s about a man who is a robot, came out in 1983. I was stationed on Okinawa, Japan in 1983. As with many Americans stationed over there in the military, domo arigatō was one of several common Japanese expressions we’d learned as part of that experience. So that song was instantly and hugely popular with a segment of the personnel. Later, I had a young friend when were stationed in Germany who loved this song. He’d played the drums and keyboards, sing the lyrics, and act as a robot during parts of it. Yes, a crazy, memorable dude.
Enjoy your day, stay strong, be positive, and vote blue in 2024. Here’s the music, and awaaayyy we go. Cheers
With change of season almost on us and the world’s relationship to the sun shifting, the sunbeams jumped right into my bed through the room’s sliding glass door, illuminating me and my faithful buddy, Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah). Time to get up, I think I said, and he replied, Time to eat.
Sumumn still holds on, dropping cool nights on us, like 50 F last night, but taking us to pleasantly warm temperatures, like 82 F today. A finely consistent coat of gilded sunshine holds the days while nights are wrapped up in clear, starry skies. This is Saturday, September 21, 2024.
After reading some of Trump’s latest stuff, I read about Danica Patrick’s declarations about being between a Republican and an Independent. Danica Patrick is a retired race driver who is always down on Vice President Harris. She’s also Aaron Rodger’s former girlfriend. Patrick commented, “I think our country should be run by someone that knows business and has integrity.”
Well, as true experts will clarify for you, running the nation as a business is not realistic; a nation and a business have different goals, with a nation being concerned about its people welfare and security, and the multitude of issues and needs which fall into those wide buckets. A business is focused on making a profit. Those are contrary end-goals.
Patrick doesn’t mention that she’s voting for D.J. Trump. I can’t believe that she would if she’s realistically assessing Trump’s business acumen. After that, discussions about Trump’s integrity can open. Documented as being a consistent liar, he’s also demonstrated that he’s out of touch with the nation’s history and needs, flipflops on his positions based on what he believes voters want to hear (see abortion and Project 2025), and if you believe the lawsuits and commentary from New Yorkers, he regularly stiffs contractors. Trump’s business bankruptcies are also well-chronicled.
Anyway, out of that, Hall & Oates began playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark trumped) as Der Neurons called up “You’re Out of Touch” from 1977. Hall & Oates were a musical duo whose sound was stamped all over the popular music scene. Living in the barracks in the Philippines at the time, I’d hear this song being played in others’ rooms, and regularly hear it at the Airman’s Club. It’s encrusted in my psyche.
Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and vote blue in 2024. Coffee is being swallowed in fine gulps. Here’s the music. Cheers
Sunshine jumped over the hills and in through the windows, lighting up the trees against a blue sumumn sky. Although we’re ranging through the mid fifties now as the sun’s air kisses the air, we’ll be striking the mid to upper 70s by day’s end.
Cut the grass yesterday. We have one large section of it which is something called clover. Bees were busily jumping from clover to clover so I left that nine square feet uncut so they could do their thing. I’ll cut it once they’re done. Not a big deal to cut the grass, as I use an old mechanical push motor. No gas or electricity needed.
At 6, we headed to the OSF Green Show to see one of our favorite local bands, The Rogue Suspects. The sun was dropping and the tempertures was sifting through the low 70s, providing a wonderful venue for enjoying music. As expect, per usual, they put on an excellent show, featuring songs from the Pointer Sisters, B-52, Journey, Huey Lewis and the News, and other bands and performers out of the last century.
Today The Neurons have “Fix You” by Coldplay going in the morning mental music stream (Trademark broken). Weirdly, I have featured this song twice before, both times in September. Must be a September song, right? Curious, I checked; released in September, 2005.
Papi drew the song into my head this morning. The other night, he was acting listless and uninterested in his food. That’s unusual for the feline known as the ginger blade. Six times out of ten, he comes in and heads right to the food bowls. Three other times, he’ll come over to me for skritches. Once, really less than one time out of ten, he’ll come in due to weather, loud noises, or something else disturbing his force, and head into the bathroom to chill.
This time, he came in and went over to a corner and settled. I took food to him. He sniffed as if interested but passed.
Okay, this is a cat who experienced a life-threatening bout with triaditis before. I informed my wife about my concerns and we made plans to keep him in overnight and keep watching him.
Later that night, he wanted out. No, I told him, not until I see you eating. I checked the food bowls put out for him: untouched.
I fed him the next morning. He showed some interest and ate a little. No vomiting, and he was acting closer to normal. A Churru was given him, and he lapped that up. After drinking water, he came to me and purred. His tail rose a bit, more like his normal self. I made him some kibble slurry — warmish water with kibble. Starting hesitantly, he lapped up most of that.
Anyway, to finish, he’s jaunting around with his tail up today, eating in his normal style, and meowing and purring per usual. Talking to him after he ate all the breakfast provided him, I told, “I’m happy we were able to fix you.” Lo, Der Neurons cranked it up.
Be strong, stay positive, lean forward, and vote blue in 2024. I’m doing the same. Coffee has been warming my innards. Time for the music, with Michael Fox joining them. Cheers
Thursday, September 19, 2024, kicked off split between sunshine. One end of the sun was bathed in refreshing warm gold light. The other end was dim, caught in shadows. The situation is slowly changing as the sun lifts over the barriers and heaves into the sky. Which, accidently, sounds like the sun might be puking up there.
58 F here and now, we have blue skies in the main, with some haziness coalescing along the horizons, especially to my west, where the valley flattens out. Yesterday presented us with a gorgeous warm but not overbearing afternoon of sunshine and breezes. Today might duplicate the results, with a high of 79 F being batted around.
Speaking of weather, I’ve been reading about the U.S. healthcare system’s ranking compared to like countries. Yes, that’s a non-sequitar, ain’t it? Few should be surprised that our nation was ranked last, with higher costs, lower levels of service, less access to care, and shorter life spans. I find the comments of Dr. Joseph Betancourt, President of the Common Wealth Fund, relevant.
“This report reveals that our health system is continuing to lag far behind other nations when it comes to meeting our citizens’ basic health care needs. The US spends more on health care than any other country, and Americans are sicker, die younger and struggle to afford essential health care. We spend the most and get the least for our investment.”
“As a primary care doctor, I see the human toll of these shortcomings in our system on a daily basis. I have patients who need medications they can’t afford. I spend time going back and forth with insurance companies who have denied care I know my patients need, and I see older patients who arrive sicker than they should because they’ve spent the majority of their lives uninsured.”
Reading newspaper, magazine, and online articles, I’ve encountered the story he tells again and again. Worse, the laws and actions the GOP and the right wing are initiating are compounding health issues for women by inserting the state and religious views into the transactions. Neither have a need to be there, and both are detrimental to good health practices. Trump and his concept of a plan would most likely worsen the situation, as he’s for business, against government, and has little empathy for the middle class and below. This fuels our need to vote blue in 2024.
We ordered six more Harris-Walz yard signs last night. These are earmared for friends who are looking for yard signs. One woman said she’s putting on on her fence, facing her Trump-supporting neighbor. All turned down bumper stickers. This is a blue to purple area, with a lot of red inflammation around the edges. My friends stated that they have real concerns about what those MAGAs would do to them or their car; yes, we’ve seen the videos and heard the threats MAGAs like to issue.
Without great surprise, I read of an EPA IG report that said top EPA officials had retaliated against whistle blowers. This was done under the previous administration.
Ah, moving on through the morning. I have Jackson Browne singng “The Pretender” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark calloused). The Neurons brought it up when I was sipping coffee, watching cats wash after they’d eaten, studying the line of the morning sun moving across the backyard. Then the songs’ lines came up, “And when the morning light comes streaming in, we’ll get up and do it again.” Yep, that’s where I stand. Time to do it again.
Be strong, stay positive, test negative, and vote blue in 2024. Here’s the music. Cheers
Sunshine burst in, a sumumnal morning surprise, antidote to the gray chilly dominance of the previous days. 53 F here now, the sun is expected to induce the air into the mid 70s before the world turns.
This is Wednesday, September 18, 2024.
Got our new insurance done yesterday. After doing quotes online, reading and reading and reading, and speaking with others, we ended up with State Farm. One, as some suggested, there’s a local agent. Two, they’ll provide the insurance we need at a reasonable cost. Three, in the aftermath of the huge Almeda fire several years ago, which destroyed hundreds of homes and businesses, friends raved about how well State Farm handled the situation.
That done, I called American Family Insurance to cancel. Auto insurance cancellation was an eyeblink — or, thanks for calling, have a pleasant evening. Home insurance, she thoroughly identified me and the property in question. Next, she said that she needs to bring up a script to read me. She told me she was going to record the transaction, and was I okay with it? Then she ran through a script which verified again my identification and the property and the flat fact that I was canceling my insurance with them.
I get this. It’s an age of scammers and cheats and pranks. Anyone could theoretically call in, claim to be me, and cancel my insurance. They could do it just to be assholes. Anyway, the company was protecting itself. But it also protects me.
When I finished, I felt like comfort food was in order. Lot of stress and anxiety in researching insurance and making that change and the multiple decisions involved in prices, coverage, and options. It’s serious adulting. But the comfort food was skipped. Sitting there, reflecting as we went through it, I compared it to how it was when I was younger. When income was less and savings were thinner.
The agent remarked on our history. Almost twenty years with that other company and no claims made on home or auto. Yeah, don’t jinx us, I said. Knock on wood. He found it remarkable. My wife, laughing, said it was because we’re boring. I think it’s a blend of caution and luck.
If you know anything about reading this blog, you won’t be surprised to discover that thinking about luck cause Der Neurons to start firing with songs about luck and being lucky. It abated overnight but this morning found them playing Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers in the morning mental music stream (Trademark lucky). The 1982 song, “You Got Lucky” is playing in snatches around eating, nursing coffee as it nurses me, and reading, writing, and thinking. The song is about love and relationships but as a general song about being lucky and how good luck can affect your life, it works. I’ll take good luck whenever it comes and will try to dance around the bad luck when it happens.
Stay positive, be strong, and vote blue. Just 48 days until November 5.
It’s another mediocre sumumn day, for which I’m thankful. Clouds blinker the blue sky and sunshine enough that we’re guessing, based on the past and science, that they’re up there. Rained yesterday in the early hours and became a pleasant day. Didn’t touch anywhere near the projected high. More of the same is filling my dance card, with the current temperature stumbling up through the fifties, rain expected this evening, and a high in the mid to upper 60s. All degrees are in Fahrenheit. That’s how we roll in Ashlandia, where we still use inches and feet. The air is okay, though, at 31 as an average.
If you need a distraction from the weather disasters, we still have war happening in Europe between Russia and Ukraine, and war between Israel and Hamas. Oh, yeah, and sports all around the world, and elections, and movies and books.
I have an old Mazda commercial going though the morning mental music stream (Trademark aging). I asked The Neurons, “WTF, dudes?” They giggled back. Here’s the song/commercial.
I wonder where that kid is now.
That isn’t today’s theme music, regardless of how much The Neurons lobby. Fortunately, after a little stumbling around, making coffee, feeding cats, staring at the weather, reading the news, and sipping coffee, The Neurons changed it up, bringing in Collective Soul with “The World I Know” from 1996. Now that’s an apt theme song. I have my little corner of being, with its weather, air quality issues, wineries and theater, and music, local politics, and friends. That’s the world I know. The rest flows in through media outlets or dribbles in via memories.
Stay positive, test negative, be strong, and vote blue in 2024. COVID cases are trending up, in case you missed that info. Time for another vaccination shot. Enjoy the music as I enjoy my coffee. Cheers
Ah, Monday, September 16, 2024, a day of conflicting energy. We’re sleepwalking through summer’s last days in the nothern atmo, at least in Ashlandia’s tiny, tiny slice of it. Autumn is fast closing in, rendering the weather as a short season called sumumn.
As it’s Monday, people must endure the back-to-work energy and the commutes and setups and activities so associated with beginning a new work week. September has piqued and we’re slipping down its backside. The brings the month and the week different energies, but it’s also the last month of the third quarter, with yet other energies. And school has swung into gear, with its activities and demands. These all crash together like a restless sea.
Sumumn has brought his cool night temps. It’s ranging around 56 F at this moment. Clouds and blue skies are mixing it up. Rained last night, leaving us with wet foliage and earth. Angles, distance, and clouds force the sun to work harder to get some heat and light to us. Gonna peak in the upper sixties on the thermometer’s top end.
We’re all talking about the second assassination attempt on Trump. We wonder if the right wing’s continual threats of violence and their stated determination to take us back fifty years socially, blended with many on the right stating how much they hate Democrats, Liberals, and Progressives, could be triggering others to take action. Imagine the lasting infamy which would be attained for a bent individual if they could claim the title of The Man Who Shot Donald J. I don’t want Trump assassinated; don’t think it would be good for the world’s political dynamics. But I do wonder how much of his hateful rhetoric affects the situation. Then again, that reasoning irritates me as it reeks of ‘blame the victim’ mentality. Yes, I’m in a sore spot over it.
Trump will likely harvest a few sympathy votes from this latest attempt. Some will also christen him as tough and brave, and that’ll win their votes. I remain focused on the man’s character flaws, multiple lies, confused speechs, broken values, and lack of coherent, substantial policies to make my voting decisions.
Now, I admit that on the last, he seems to have a group backing him with very coherent and substantial policy ideas in the form of Project 2025. But Trump is trying to distance himself from that after the American people reacted to it like a load of crap-filled diapers. Which is probably why Trump lacks coherent and substantial policies; he can’t say they’re good ideas because most voters hate those idas and would vote against him. Trump is cunning enough to understand that.
Moving on.
Today’s song has been played here before. But, once The Neurons have made their play choice, they’re like a toddler, demanding to play it over and over again, making me feel a little nuts. So it is today that the theme music comes via John Fogerty and Creedence Clearwater Revival, aka CCR or C.C.R. Their 1971 song, “Have You Ever Seen the Rain” has a lock on the morning mental music stream (Trademark wet).
The song isn’t really about the weather, but about the depression and tension the group members were feeling even as the band achieved greater success. In a way, that metaphor about rain and weather can be applied to the U.S., that even as we taxed the rich and built our infrastructure, financed public education, and ensured everyone’s right to vote was realized and protected, forces within the nation were becoming dissillusioned and delusional, leading us to the polarizing facturing we now face. Will it break up the band (the nation)?
Be strong, stay positive, and vote blue in 2024. Vote against Project 2025. Vote against taking away people’s voting rights. Vote for protecting the environment and addressing climate change.
Here’s the music. Uintentionally ironically, it’s Fogerty playing it without CCR in 2005. Cheers
Sunday came in with little sunshine, but it’s been creeping taller, brighter, warmer through a sluggish morning. Its September 15, 2024 and about 61 degrees F. That’s about three off from an anticipated high of 64 F. Rain, thunderstorms, and sunshine will be trading places throughout the day. It’s aggravating our tentative plans to go to the Japanese Gardens for an organized moon watching thingy about 7:30 this evening. Like, will it be raining? Or too much cloud cover to take in the moon? Can’t decide now. It’ll be an event time decision.
I’ve been watching and enjoying Slow Horses on Apple TV. Based on a series of novels by Mick Herron, the series is about Slough House and MI5 rejects exiled to deadend jobs for various failures and character flaws. I’d watched the first two seasons about a year ago but decided to watch them again and then go on with two more seasons. The show is rich with characters. Gary Oldman plays a terrific character, Jackson Lamb, a cynical, obnoxious, and brooding burned-out spy. He drinks, he smokes, he eats poorly, and he insults. By the third season, everyone is telling him that he stinks.
Our other main individual is River Cartwright, an impulsive spy who wants to be a hero but often sabotages himself with his behavior and thinking. Ironically, he starts out looking suave as a spy and slowly shifts until he begins to resemble Lamb. My favorite, though, is Louisa Guy, played by Rosalind Eleazar. Her depths, grief, and stoicism intrigue me, and I want to know more about her. She’s not infrequently a surprising hero.
Besides them, we have Kristin Scott-Thomas playing Diana Taverner, the poised, intelligent, and mildly amused organization climber. Her main frustration is often brought on by Lamb and his Slough House exiles.
My wife has become sucked into it. She told me yesterday that she read that Slow Horses is currently the most popular show on television or something like that. I think it’s deserving of that. I’ve finished three seasons and I’m ready for season four. As I often do when I find a television or movies series which I enjoy, I plan to read the novels.
Today’s music is “Walk Away” by Kelly Clarkson. It’s playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark charred) because of a floof incident, also known as a floofcident. Papi, the ginger blade, rounded a corner and encountered Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah), the aging black and white bruiser. Some lowly muttered threats emerged over this apparent transgression. Having witnessed the entire event, I’m not sure how their pride or territory was affected. Maybe it’s spillover from some previous encounter. Or it could be moods exacerbated by the changing weather. Who knows with floofs? Hard to read as husbands.
So, watching the incident, I said, “It’s okay, boys, there’s no reason to fight, just walk away, Papi.” The Neurons heard that and it was mental clickbait to call up the 2006 song out of the memory channels and put it in the morning stream.
Be strong, stay positive, and vote blue in 2024. Here’s the music video. Coffee and I are doing our tango. Cheers
He seemed like he was aged. Not much energy. I offered coffee. He gave a head shake. I took that as no. That’s my culture.
He sat, cold and broody, high thin clouds on a blue day, a sun sluggish with its heat, tired with its shine. Seemed to be studying the trees. The old oak across the street sways high above power and phone lines. It’s an old neighborhood in parts, and that’s how it used to be, black telephone and power lines hanging between poles, home to birds and dangling shoes. The oaks leaves are green but their shade seem to be yielding into the yellow that takes them every year. Saturday seems like he’s considering it like a mystery: when will those leaves change?
It’s 59 F now. Saturday plans to get up to the high seventies, that is, if he can get up. Weight is holding him back. He’s had it a long time but it still surprises his muscles. A car goes up the hill outside the window and another goes down, causing him to look, like they might be guests coming to see him. Everyone sees Saturday and no one sees him. He’s invisible and there, forgotten, overlooked, used.
He pulls out a newspaper from the air, opening up the big, thin pages, humming as he reads. I smell the ink but can’t see the black headlines. The Neurons begin humming with Saturday. Working overtime, I finally pluck the song’s words out of the mind’s grey folds, putting enough together to get a sense of the melody. Performers arrive late to the scene: Bon Jovi. “Someday I’ll Be Saturday Night” plays in the morning mental music stream (Trademark cracked). A 1995 song that begins with a depressing litany but then rises up with defiance and optimism.
Now, as then, when I heard the song back in the day, I think of the stereotypes attached to it, like the idea that Saturday night is a good time. How that is embedded in our culture. How far back does that go?
Stay positive, be strong, and vote blue in 2024. Coffee has been brewed and calls. Here’s the music. Have a good Saturday. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 