Mood: Freshfree

Thursday has trundled in, soft of foot and full of grace, delivering smoke in our space, and pleasing night air on our face.

It’s Thursday, 8/8/24, or 24/8/8.

Our smoke has risen into the unhealthy zone. Don’t know which fire is our source. We have many to select from. None too close but valleys channel it in. It looks like crap out there. Can’t see the mountains for the smoke, and the blue sky has been squirted into smoggy tones. 65 F outside my house today, we’re expecting a thirty degree rise to the high. No wind is blowing, so a sort of still deadness rules. I expect zombies to start emerging from the smoke at any moment.

We’ve been spoiled by the peaches acquired at the growers market in the last two visits. Both times we returned with the sweetest, tastiest, most perfectly ripe peaches. Sooo juicy. The blackberries were found wanting. Plump and juicy, yes, but only one out of four is sweet. We’re of the school that blacberries should be sweet and not sour, and the sour blackberries aren’t sitting well on my tongue. Besides those fruits, we picked up green onions — my wife is a fiend for ’em — and greens. Good stuff: local and organic. Non-GMO.

I posted something about Gov Walz the other day. A right wing friend commented, “He put tampons in the boys room.” I reacted, oh, no! How terrible! How tragic! Must cost billions of dollars. Such a waste, such a waste.

Well, no, I didn’t write all that. I thought it. I wasn’t going to write it because the issue doesn’t deserve any oxygen. As Joey from Friends said, “It’s something a cow would say. It’s a moo point.”

My wife has an ongoing thing with spiders in the bath. I use the shower stall, so this doesn’t involve me, but whenever she heads to the tub, she must clear out several spiders. We don’t kill spiders and these are all of the daddy longlegs variations. She plugs up the drain with a cloth to keep them from climbing up through there and removes them by means of a rolled, stiff piece of paper. She calls this her spider catcher. It’s actually an old invoice for blinds. We pulled it out a month ago to see when we purchased our blinds. It hasn’t been refiled because it’s now my wife’s spider catcher. She gives me a summary — “There were three spiders in there. I don’t know they’re coming from. They seem to get stuck. Stupid spiders. I move them and they go right back in there.”

With freedom still my theme this week, The Neurons are channeling Bread’s 1971 song, “Mother Freedom” into the morning mental music stream (Trademark discounted). My older sister had this album so I knew the song. I met my wife later that year. Her sister had the album on 8-track and regularly played it. It’s tres fam. God song for freedom week, though.

Freedom, keep walkin’
Keep on your toesand don’t stop talkin’ ’bout
Freedom, get goin’
Lots to be learned and lots to be known ’bout
People gotta reach ’em
Sit ’em right down and then you gotta teach ’em ’bout
Freedom, gotta win it
Gotta put yourself smack dab in it

Hey tomorrow
Now don’t you go away
‘Cause freedom
Just might come your way

Freedom, keep tryin’
People stay alive and people keep dyin’ for
Freedom, so don’t lose it
Ya gotta understand ya just can’t abuse it
Freedom, get movin’
Never gonna stop till everybody’s groovin’ on
Love for – one another
Callin’ some friend and callin’ some brother

h/t to AZLyrics.com

Just 89 days until the elections. Stay fresh, be strong, and remain postive. Vote Blue. Coffee has found its way into a cup and on into my systems, so all systems are go. Here’s the music video. Cheers