Sunday’s Theme Music

Hearing the pursuit, we ran hard. “In here,” Pretzel shouted on my left. I twisted, planted my foot and made the cut, following him into a small path.

We crowded in panting like the sprinters we’d been. “What is this?” Maylie asked.

“I think it’s a time machine,” C-Jean said.

Don’t know about the rest but I did a mental, oh shit. “Don’t touch anything. We got to get out of here.”

“Oops,” Pharslei said.

The machine vibrated for two seconds. Ping, it said, like we were a done nuked meal.

“Where are we?” Maylie asked.

“Not where,” Pretzel said. “When. Time machine, itz. When are we?”

Sunday, April 23, 2016, it said. “Shit,” someone said.

The numbers blinked. April 20, 1623. Still Sunday. “I’m going to go see,” Pretzel announced.

“No,” I said, “Hold up.” That was the last I saw of him, though, going out that door.

Last I saw of any of them. Machine now said, April 16, 2023.

I left the booth. It vanished behind me. Tepid sunshine washed my face. Mostly I saw cloud layering like stacked grays. Still seemed like Ashlandia’s green deep valley, at least.

The Neurons have filled the morning mental music stream with “Where Have All the Good Times Gone”. Went with the Kinks’ original song from ’65. Fit with my state of mind. Shopping this morning, it seemed like such a dirge. Everyone shopper I eyed semed to be thinking, “I wish I was anywhere else.” Shopping has never been a leisure pursuit for me but it kicked my thinking down a memory path which lodged up against the question, where have all the good times gone? Follow up was, what constituted a good time?

Stay pos. I know, sometimes it’s touch. Feels like the world is on your shoulders, and it’s putting on more weight every second. Coffee helps me. Coffee; it’s what’s for breakfast.

Here’s the music. Cheers

Sunday’s Theme Music

Heavy snow fell this morning for thirty minutes. Thick mythological flakes twirled and spun, building to a fast two inches. But the temperature was 36 and the sun cracked the clouds, and lo’, it melted in minutes. Now it’s wintingery again, dashing dark clouds, determined sunshine, uncertain winds chasing leaves.

It’s Feb 26, 2023, a Sunday. Sun’s warm light surmounted the southeasterly elevations at 6:51 this morning. We’ll stay in its presence until 5:57 PM.

Winter warnings are issued. The weather nerds say snow and rain every other day this week. Highs in the 40s to 50s during the day but pushing the mercury down in the mid-twenties at night. Last night’s low was 28 F. It’s now 42, which is our high.

Interesting news from sis-in-law. One, QVC is talking about a deal with her for her product, the CranioCradle. Two, she was in a car accident and now has a bad hip and can’t walk. They’re telling her she’ll probably need surgery. Her insurance company is taking care of everything, and she has Medicare to cover other costs. Still, it’s a pain.

We were out shopping in the changing conditions. — had to – Book Club in March, you know, K is hosting, you know — apparently the President and significant royalty from around the world is showing up, to judge from the planning and preparation — and I somehow between the axis of K’s zealous planning and the changing wintingery situation ended up with The Neurons plugging “Shelter from the Storm”. Guy named Bob Dylan sung it originally. Came out on one of his albums in the 1970s.

Stay pos. The shopping expedition flushed my energy away. It’s a lot of tedious standing around for me. It was just raining, then sleet, then snow. Now it’s sunny. The wind has gone on up the road. Monday is coming.

Here’s the music. Have a magnifico Sunday. Cheers

Thursday’s Wandering Thought

He admired his blue pullover. It was a cheap thing, a rag sweater bought for about $15 over twenty years ago. He still liked it although no elastic properties remained in it. Other than that failure, the sweater had no holes, no picks from an animal’s claws — which was truly amazing — and had not frayed anywhere. He’d bought it a store which no longer existed.

The store name, Mervyn’s, came to him after a moment. He remembered their television commercials. It seemed like they’d gone out of business so suddenly and was gone, like a brief rain shower on a hot summer day.

Sunday’s Wandering Thought

He remembered when his family ordered things from a catalog when he was a boy. First, there was filling out the form of the item numbers, quantities, and prices. “Get my credit card from my purse,” Mom would order. The 800 number was called, the order placed.

Days of mystery would ensue. When would the order get here? Where is it now? Each day brought the three Ws: watching, waiting, wondering.

Slip forward a few decades. Companies began telling him exactly when his order would arrive. Shipping and tracking advances continued. Soon, he tracked his packages as they left faraway cities and countries and zigzagged a path to his home. He knew exactly when it would arrive. It was immensely satisfying.

Systems matured and processes evolved. Breakdowns from overloaded, overpromising systems became endured. Tracking information is still sent out, but he frequently finds himself as he was when he was a child, watching, waiting, wondering.

He feels like he’s gone full circle.

Another Erotic Dream

A young man, I was working alongside a younger woman in a hectic, busy department store in a large city. She was an attractive woman, with full, curly hair with blond highlights. Enjoying our work, we were putting a window display together when she propositioned me. Although flattered, I knew she was married and didn’t want to involve myself in another couple’s marital issues. She was wearing a low-cut black sweater with a short black skirt. After I declined her offer, she pestered me, trying to coerce me into making out with her. She began kissing my neck and playing grab ass with me. At one point, she seized my hand and put it on her breast. I scurried away. She came up, then reached around from behind and rubbed my crotch. I was aroused but kept declining her and then, finishing up enough with the window display, I hurried away to work elsewhere.

I was turned on, though, and had to hide that as I walked around, which was awkward and uncomfortable. I saw the woman’s husband with her down an aisle The two were looking over at me. I pretended not to see them and looked elsewhere. Irritated, I tried turning my attention to other things but every time I went around a clothing display, I saw the two of them.

A tall female manager in a red dress came by and told me she had a special assignment for me, and to wait there. As I waited, growing impatient, a senior management official, male, white, in a suit, came by and said, “Here’s your tool,” handing me what looked like a thumb drive. Speaking from confusion, I asked, “What am I supposed to do with this?” Already hurrying away, he paused to reply, “Someone will come along and tell you.”

Bewildered and exasperated, I hung out by a rack of clothing and contemplated the thumb drive as shoppers and other workers passed. The thwarted seducer found me. She told me, “I have to go,” and then, after looking around, tried hugging and kissing me. I fended her off as before. She said, “You know you want me, so I’ll be back,” and then rushed away.

Dream end.

Out Shopping

Get ready for an old man rant. That’s how it sounds in retrospect. Let it fly.

“Let’s go shopping,” my wife said. “Plan a day when we go out so I can get new exercise clothes. I want to go to my exercise class in person on April first, and I’d like to do it in something other than the clothes I was wearing two years ago.”

Yes, I agreed, because I knew what she was talking about. We’ve been strong isolationists, social distancing, zooming, vaccinated, masking, almost living like recluses. Well, recluses who have television and streaming services, computers, telephones, and safe friend pods. Maybe not quite recluses. Maybe, that’s an exaggeration. Maybe.

But we went through this before, where mandates were lifted, places partially opened. We took advantage of that. Our concern is that there will be some sort of new worrying spike and mandates and shutdowns will roll in anew. So we went out shopping and ate in a restaurant. Masks were worn while shopping. We wore masks until we were seated in our isolated, plastic walled table at the restaurant. We went early, to avoid crowds, but risks remain. The masked were the minority by far.

It’s been a while since I went shopping. I think it’s been a year. I saw some blue jeans. Levi’s. I thought, hey, they’re nice. Maybe I’ll buy a pair of denim pantaloons. The price stopped me: $69.50. For jeans? Off the shelf jeans? Levi’s? I remember when they were the jeans of the poor and downtrodden. And that at J.C. Penney’s.

Looking at shoes, I was appalled about how ugly and clunky men’s shoes have become during the pandemic. Lot of red, white, and blue stuff, too. I thought, I’ll have to watch people, see how many are actually wearing these. I suppose I’ll need to focus on the young, those who have not yet counted past forty years.

Wrigley’s gums come in Peppermint ‘Cobalt’ and Spearmint ‘Rain’. WTF? I read their ingredients: they looked like gum with a new name.

My superpower held solid, so I managed to find the worst checkout line possible at Target. It’s good to know that I can depend on that power. I perused magazines at hand. Know how much a magazine costs? $12.99 USD. What? Why, that’s how much a book used to cost. Now, of course, a book is $26.00 for a hardback, $16.00 for a softback. That’s why I buy used books or go to the library. Of course, many used books are now over $10.00

Then there was my beer: $7.25 for 16 ounces of Blue Moon. My entree was $11.99. My drink was over 50% of the price of my meal. That’s frigging stunning. They asked me if I wanted a 22 oz beer, but that would’ve probably topped my credit card’s limit. It only goes into five digits.

I guess it was all a shocker. I’ve seen food prices. We laughed about paying $50 at grocery stores and walking out with two light bags. Filling the gas tank on the Mazda was $45.

Stunning. I feel for the people on the edge. I remember when I had people working for me in the military thirty years ago, and the cost of childcare. It basically almost equaled those young people’s take home pay. I hear it’s become worse. Looking at the small sampling which I experienced, I believe it.

Saturday’s Theme Music

Good day, Saturheads. Today is December 4, 2021. Happy birthday to you, if it’s your birthday. Hope it’s the best one yet.

Day broke with a foggy layer. Appears to be yesterday’s fog, as the day decided not to change its weather, but to just use yesterday’s weather. “It was barely used yesterday,” the day was quoted on the net (so you know it must be true). “It just hung in the sky all day. Still looked brand new. So, what the cloud? I figured I’d economize, use it again. You have any idea how much it costs to put up that much new fog every day?”

Yesterday’s highs were never achieved as fog shut down the sun’s heat. We mustered 50, I think. Expect the same today. Currently 41 F six hours after starting at 39 when the sun stumbled in at 7:23 AM. I bout it will be much warmer by the time the sun bids adieu at 4:39 later this afternoon, just three hours from now.

Been out shopping. Visited Scoffco as Costco is now labeled for the preponderance of mask scoffers. They’re not worried about catching nor spreading no stinkin’ COVID. That location was the worse of the seven stores we visited this morning. Seven? Yes. My wife has begun collecting the props for her book club’s annual holiday party. (They are the Ladies #1 Book Club.) We were on a quest for napkins, marshmallows, and specific hot chocolate, but also did personal grocery shopping. I am the official driver and part-time advisor. “Will this work, do you think?” she asks, holding something up. “Maybe,” I sagely reply, peering at it.

Being with my wife on her shopping project, my mind adopted Lauv’s song, “I Like Me Better” (2017). She no doubt makes me a better person. Her presence helps me consider issues from the female side, and she likes challenging norms and sexism. My thinking has grudgingly expanded under her tutelage. It’s only taken five decades. That’s how long we’ve been together as friends, steadies, lovers, and spouses.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed — don’t be a Scoffco’er — and get the vax and booster when you can. Time for a coffee with a muffin, so excuse me. Back later.


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