Laying in bed and thinking about his dreams, he told himself, you have to get up. Feed cats. Drink coffee. Try to live.
It felt like it was going to a stretch day, a day when you stretch your energy just to be.
The Morning Mouse
He has his routines. After eating his wet food and his kibble, he heads for the desk. His guy is seated behind it, on the computer. There, on the right, is the man’s mouse, used for his computer, his hand resting on it. Eyeing it, he walks around the computer to the mouse hand, and puts his nose down and starts rubbing on his human’s hand. He usually only wants about two to three minutes of rubbing on the mouse hand before settling down for a nap, using the mouse hand as a pillow. That rarely works because the hand and mouse moves, eventually causing him to jump down to find another napping location. But all is well.
He’s had his morning mouse. It’ll suffice until after dinner. Then he’ll have his evening mouse.
The Writing Moment
He awoke writing in his head, picking up the story where he’d stopped the previous day. Cats were first fed because he wasn’t inexperienced. The cats would haunt home with song until they were fed, and, you know, responsibilities, right? An agreement existed which must be honored on his end.
He settled into his office chair, typing fast for fifteen minutes. Insulated in his fictional world, he heard his wife’s activities as she pursued her post-rising rituals. Mental countdown beginning, he typed faster, racing through the scene to grab it all. The cats joined him, one on the windowsill behind him, speaking to his back, the other jumping up onto his desk, heading for his right side, waiting for him to reach for the mouse, intercepting his hand with a nose mash as he tried selecting a line to copy, paste, move. Then his wife entered talking.
He didn’t know what she said. Muses still shouted words in his head, but he knew the writing moment was done, at least for the moment.
Tuesday’s Theme Music
Sunshine prevails today. Tuesday’s sky can be described as mostly sunny or mostly cloudy. Both seem correct. While sunshine washes over everything in the valley, large clouds brood like waiting bears, shadowing large swaths of land.
Yes, it’s May 3, 2022. Our high is gonna be 64 F, they say, about ten degrees higher than it is at the mo’. The sunrise cometh at 6:01AM. The other end of the daylight session ends at 8:13 PM. Tomorrow, the weather ‘they’ say, we’ll see 79 F.
After a series of dark, messy, and splashy dreams, the neurons summoned a Nine Inch Nails song. Released in 2006, “Every Day Is Exactly the Same”, some of the lyrics go, “Every day is exactly the same.” Which sometimes is how my life feels, outside of writing. Feeding cats and taking care of them, house and yard work, the eternally aggravating question of “What’s for dinner,” dressing and eating, reading news, doing errands, reading books. Yet, in many ways, that’s how it was when working and in the military, too. The world is built on bureaucracies and routines. Sometimes, though, that tedium gets me. It’s funny, but I know this song because one of the QA guys who worked for me when I managed a tech support group introduced it to me. He no longer worked for me by that time, but sent me an email after the song came out, telling me about it, and mentioning, “It reminded me of what you used to say.” I still laugh about that.
Stay positive — yeah, who am I to talk? Test negative, etc. Here we go, music and coffee. Cheers
Monday’s Theme Music
“Just another manic Monday.” Yes, welcome to Monday, September 13, 2021. I generally wasn’t fond of Mondays in my school days. Monday. Yech. Up early. Off to await the school bus. Then in the building. Didn’t mind school and did well but disliked that routine. Never was routine oriented in those days. Writing changed that for me. A routine was essential. Of course, I centered it around coffee.
We didn’t drink coffee as children when I went to school. Rarely drank sodas, pop, sugary carbonated beverages, whatever you wanted to call them. Our drink was chocolate, as in hot chocolate or chocolate milk. I’ve noticed that every coffee shop close to a school has a regular glut of children in there getting a morning beverage. Chai tea seemed like the fave was the longest. Of course, in my day, we didn’t know about chai tea, or cafe mochas or lattes. There weren’t usually coffee shops. They were rare and small. A place to get a blue plate special. Change, right?
Sunrise today was a proper one. Boosted by a clear sky and just the right angle, full sunshine beamed into the valley at 6:49 AM. We had a clearish day yesterday with good- to moderate- rated air. Green and yellow. Nothing over 90 on the AQI. Today’s AQI is 39. Sweet. Sunset will come to our valley at 7:24 PM tonight.
As for songs, a 1966 cover of an older song is in the mental musical stream. “See You in September” was covered by the Happenings and became a pop hit. Hearing it provides an interesting look back at how pop music sounded then, and how it was evolving. You had the surf sound going on, the Brit invasion, but also songs like this along with others by the Four Seasons, and Motown soul. Rock and roll was growing, and so was folk music. Rock and pop has always been eclectic. One of the reasons I love it. A song for any mood, a sound for any time. I admit that I lean toward blues-based guitar and piano sounds with subtle soul nuances. Sounds like I’m describing a wine, doesn’t it?
Here’s the music. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax. If we do these things, then maybe we will see one another in September, out in public, without a mask, enjoying fresh autumn air. Cheers
Coffee and Dreams
I awoke at about half past darkness with a dream in mind. Realized that I was writing in my dream.
I went over what I’d written. Considered rising to capture it. Decided not to. Resumed sleep.
Awoke in the morning. Went through dreams while doing light exercising and stretching. Daily ritual. The cats assumed the position. Stared fixedly with misery. Tucker seized a more active approach. Moved over and sat on my foot. Looked up at me. Eyes big. Waiting. Expectant. Give a little, “Mello,” in a friendly baritone.
Done with exercising, feeding cats was necessary before starvation took them. We went down the hall, they with eager anticipation, me with resignation. Cleaned out bowls — “You never even finished what I fed you last night” — opened a can. Doled out the wet food. Refilled the kibble stations. Cleaned and filled the water stations.
Coffee was brewed. Before it finished, I was back with the dream writing stuff. Headed to the computer. Wrote for an hour. Surprising how fresh and clear it had remained. Got up when my Fitbit reminded me that it was time to move. Remembered my coffee. Now cold. Drank some anyway. My taste buds immediately sent notices that this was unacceptable. I nuked the coffee hot. The taste buds were appalled.
Writing in my head was still happening. Hadn’t eaten yet but the muses were strong. So, despite the stomach’s increasingly vocal demands, I made fresh coffee and returned to the keyboard. Got back into the rhythm.
Half the coffee remains. It’s almost cold. Mug radiates an ant watt of warmth. Taste buds are not overly pleased with the dark fluid’s progress over their realm.
But it all works. Coffee and dreams. At least, today. Time to eat, according to my stomach. Get some real coffee, too, the taste buds request. Something hot and dark, please.
Tuesday’s Theme Music
Good morning. Today is Tuesday, August 24, 2021. We’re into August’s last legs. September begins next week. Autum will take over in a few weeks. 2022 is hurtling toward us with comet speed.
Sunrise and sunset are 6:28 AM and 8:08 PM, respectively. Temps are lower. Just 60 F now. Expect mid-80s by the mid-afternoon.
We’re back to reality. Back home. In Ashland. Spent a week on the Oregon coast. Drove home yesterday. Coming south/east, smoke took over as the dominate feature, rendering trees and mountains into sketchy outlines, killing breathability, locking out blue sky and sunshine. Oregon, 2021: another year of smoke.
Yardwork needs tending. I’ll put on a mask and do it, though philosophical reservations pummel me. Is having a pretty yard really so critical when attaining it means risking your health. Hell, no, of course not. But, property values, the marketing forces reply. Image and impressions. Some suggest, hire someone. Sure, take advantage of another’s weak financial security and force them to sacrifice their health. Makes sense. Ah, but their choice, right? And they need the money. And there is capitalism’s doom loom in its essence.
The boys — Tucker, Boo, and Papi — are happy to have us back. Lot of love time spent with each yesterday. Heads were scratched. Purrs were issued. Comforting was done.
Had the Animals song, “It’s My Life”, in my mental music stream this morning. “Comedown” by Bush. Then Duran Duran replaced those with “Ordinary World”. Somehow, Lost Frequencies came through from 2015 with “Reality”. Just a matter of words with this light tune, really:
Decisions as I go to anywhere I flow
Sometimes I believe, at times I’m rational
I can fly high, I can go low
Today I got a million, tomorrow I don’t know
Stop claiming what you own, don’t think about the show
We’re all playing the same game, waiting on our loan
We’re unknown and known, special and a clone
Hate will make you cautious, love will make you glow
Make me feel the warmth, make me feel the cold
It’s written in our stories, it’s written on the walls
This is our call, we rise and we fall
Dancing in the moonlight, don’t we have it all?
h/t AZLyrics.com
Yes, I’m all over the map this AM. Happy to be home. Sad to be away from the ocean. Relieved my fur friends and home are okay. Appalled by the state of the air, the extended drought, the multitude of wildfires. Depressed by the break in routine, the inability to saunter to a coffee shop to write (see Air Quality, COVID-19 restrictions), humble that I have a life where I can make such choices.
Reality can be great. It can also suck. At the same time.
Stay positive. Test negative. Wear a mask as needed. Get the vax. Have some coffee. Or tea. Wine. Whatever. Enjoy the music. Cheers
Morning Routine
The door opened. He tottered out and stopped in shade and sunshine on the hard white ground. Good morning, he said to the air. Good morning, sunshine. He liked the air and sunshine, though neither answered him.
The blue bird came by and said hello. He liked the bird. It was always friendly and noisy.
The man came out, talking to him in his busy language. He liked the man. He mewed that information to the man, who went by him in a scissoring flash of legs.
He decided to follow the man across the dewy wet grass, see what’s what, but the man went back into the house, speaking as he always did, which roughly translated to, I am leaving you, and closed the door, as he always did, leaving him alone, in the grass, staring back.
A bee came by, and another bird (one he didn’t know) stopped on the tree and said hello. He didn’t know the bird, so he didn’t answer. After requesting permission (which he gave with a nod), the bird darted down in the yard to visit the grass, then said good-bye and flew away.
He settled onto the grass. Cold under his belly fur, the grass sent a wet shock up through him. The sun was peeking through trees. It was always shy at first, hiding behind trees, leaves, and clouds. But then it came out and told him, good morning. How are you?
The sunshine stroked his black fur with its warm hand. I am fine, he answered, closing his eyes to nap.
Monday’s Theme Music
Thickening fog is graying out this Monday morning in southern Oregon.
Hi. Today is February 22, 2021. The temperature is 39 degrees F. Sunrise and sunset are 6:57 AM, 5:52 PM, presenting us almost eleven hours of daylight.
My mind has been busy with dreams, reading, writing, and thinking. Among the thoughts. They mentioned on the radio that, oh, surprise, people are creatures of habit. Surveys show that eighty percent of Americans have daily routines that they follow. They eat the same thing for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, go to the same places to shop, watch the same shows, etc.
Well, hello, yes. Much of this is driven by routines but by prices, selections, availability, health, and convenience. My breakfast, for example, is usually oatmeal. How it’s flavored varies. I add different fruits and nuts to it, or raisins, or peanut butter, or sometimes all of it. Yogurt with granola stands as an infrequent breakfast alternative. Once in a while, probably once a month, I’ll buy a breakfast burrito from a store. Once in a while, maybe every other month, I’ll have a doughnut or pastry for breakfast.
These things, though are driven by nutrition, taste, cost, availability, and convenience. I used to make and eat other things for breakfast. Metabolism changes, life style changes, and weight gain all started nixing how often I do that, along with convenience and laziness. Making a more elaborate breakfast (besides being pricier) is time consuming, and there’s cleaning up afterward.
Boy, I sound defensive, don’t I? But they’re right: we shop at the same seven places for our groceries when we go out. Those seven: Shop N’ Kart, Trader Joe’s, Costco, The Food Co-op, Market of Choice, Bi-Mart and Albertson’s. They’re all within a twenty-minute drive. They have decent prices. The food quality is good. We’re checked out places, but these are the ones we trust.
Enough whining. On to the music. Today’s theme song is “Sowing the Seeds of Love” by Tears for Fear, 1989. Don’t ask me why; it came into my head this morning, and I had no reason to not select it.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get vaccinated. We’re still a few weeks from being eligible for the vaccination, ourselves. Here’s the tune. Enjoy.
Michael Seidel, writer 