Mood: a bouncing flow of changing lights and colors.
He said, “It’s Monday.”
And all the cows sang, “Moo-day.”
Which left him speechless.
Yes, we’re on the Monday segment of the seven day perpetual merry-go-round. Never stops. Never pauses. Might slow or speed up. Actually, it might stop but we might all lose consciousness when that happens because having time stopped doesn’t fit with the mold of our existence.
Today is August 7, 2023. Politics are still on my mind. Can’t help it. I read political news and it swats me over the head again, again, again. I think, I want to know what others are thinking. I don’t understand their conclusions. But I try, and I fail. We are realities apart on some matters. Not going into more than that today.
Weather is same as it was yesterday — blue, 68 F, high of 86 F.
Had an uncomfortable night. Kicked in with a dream festival. It ended suddenly when the smoke detector started chirping about the need for a new battery at 3 AM. Said detector is located on a hiiiigh ceiling in the master BR. No ladder in my possession is tall enough. But I have a ladder that will reach a ledge (yes, the bedroom has a ledge on the high end), and then I can stand on the ledge and change it. Wasn’t doing that at 3 AM, though. Also, didn’t have any 9 volt batteries on hand. Used the last one in the multimeter for another project last week. So, off to the store I go today.
But first, it’s time to deliver for food and friends one more time. We’re due to leave for that in a few. My wife has returned from exercising and is sipping her fresh coffee. Love that smell. I’m two-thirds through my first cuppa.
Thinking about going to the store, I thought, I need to go today but maybe I’ll go again tomorrow. Just thoughts about what I needed to buy, wanted to buy, and the balancing of activities and priorities. From that blend of thinking, The Neurons introduced Stevie Nicks and “Edge of Seventeen” into the morning mental music stream (trademark locked down). Makes sense; there’s a line in the song which states, “I went today, maybe I will go again tomorrow.”
Stay pos and upright, motor on into the distance. Keep your eyes on the road and your hands upon the wheel. Let’s do this. Here’s the video. Cheers
TL/DR – went up north to get my REAL ID. An overnight trip. The cats are happy we’re home. Gonna get hot here in the next few days.
A late post to the day. We’ve returned to Ashlandia, where the temperature is 85 F, the time is 7:07 PM, and the people are sweaty. Been away today, heading north on the great driver license quest yesterday. See, I turn 67 next week and license expires. Being over 65 means renewing must be done in person so they can check my eyes, a fifteen second step in the entire process. But let’s go back to the start.
Got the notice a few months ago and began to plan. First thing I learned is that Ashlandia’s DMV office is open three days a week, seven hours on Tuesday and Thursday, and six hours on Wednesday. Second, the line gets long very quickly. People are outside an hour before, waiting for the office to open. Third, there are no appointments available. I tried making one for weeks, again, again, again, again, again.
I checked the Medford DMV, twenty-five miles up the road. No appointments to be found — again, again, again, again, again. Next was Grants Pass, fifty miles away. No appointments. But Canyonville, up Interstate 5, 85 miles away, had appointments. So I will go, I decided. My wife said she would accompany so we decided that we’d go on to Eugene to shop for books, shoes, clothes, and stay overnight. See, a wedding is coming up in a few months. Quite formal, one of my nephews, and we’re gonna be there.
After making the appointment, I told several friends about my efforts. One related that his son just renewed his license. I don’t know why he didn’t do it online, but he went down to the DMV office in Medford, where he resided, four times. Finally arrived one morning half an hour before the office opened. Got in line. Finished four hours later.
I could have done that, I suppose, just keep going to the DMV and getting in line and waiting, rather than racing up the highway. But a road trip is more fun than sitting around for me.
Anyway, one of the other friends mentioned that he’d tried renewing in Ashlandia, and then in Medford, and found the waits exasperating. As he and his wife had to go to Portland, they stopped in Canyonville. He walked into the DMV and had it all done in minutes.
Well, I arrived yesterday at the Canyonville DMV fifteen minutes before my appointment. Walked in. One person working in there. Fifteen people waiting. Everyone had a number. But I had an appointment. Where do you go if you have an appointment? There was no guidance.
The person being served finished. The sole agent called for the next number. I headed toward the counter. A woman leaped up and said, “I have a ten fifty appointment.” Her name was checked, appointment verified. I said, “I have an eleven o’clock appointment.”
The agent said, “Wait on the red carpet. That way, we’ll know you have an appointment.”
Ah, the red carpet, of course! The three by three foot red carpet. How could I have not known that? That’s how her friendly but snarky tone sounded.
A little after eleven, a second agent snuck into the work area and called the next number. I said, “Excuse me, but I’m standing on the red carpet!”
Quickly the agent bowed. “Please forgive me and come forward.”
No, just in my imagination. Actually, I just told the new agent what I had an eleven o’clock appointment. She asked me my name and we began. It was a quick ordeal, barely long enough to call it an ordeal. Funniest part was that I wear glasses to drive but forgot to put them on when I did the eye exam. “Perfect,” the agent said. “Do you wear contacts?”
“No, I just forgot to wear my glasses.”
Supposed to get hot tomorrow, with sunshine exploding with heat and dry, calm air moving it, the low nineties are anticipated. Gonna be that way, getting warmer, for a few weeks, not just in Ashlandia, but in southwestern Oregon.
Returning today, the cats were happy to see us. Papi was relieved to be allowed back outside. Although we have a pet door installed, Tucker likes sleeping in front of it, blocking Papi’s progress and giving him stress and anxiety. So, pet door were closed, and the cats were locked in the house together with food and water for about thirty hours. Blocked windows provided them with fresh air and kept the place cool.
Today’s music came about after we watched Taylor Mac’s 24-Decade History of Music last night. It’s amazing, incredibly creative, fascinating in so many ways, and a showcase of impressive talents by multiple individuals. I surfed the net for more info about it this morning. I ended up coming a “Better Together” with Jack Johnson being done as part of Song Around the World/Playing for Change. I offer it up to you.
Stay strong, be cool, and continued to have brightly positive, as you can, when you can. Here’s the music.
First, my wife and I were in a department store, one like the late K-Mart. We were some variations of our real selves. She was shopping and I was just hanging around, hovering, waiting. As I meandered, hands in pockets, I spotted four young woman. Nothing remarkable about them, they were short young adults. Each was different from clothing to hair, except they were all dusky, with dark hair, and all seemed happy. I gathered they were planning some prank. Something overheard made me think of them as security, as in law enforcement, which baffled me because nothing in their appearance, age, or demeanor declared, Security!
So I kept wandering, watching them, trying to understand what they were plotting. Each produced a toy gun. One noted my presence to the others. They talked and laughed about me — I could discern this although I didn’t know what was being said — and then, guns raised, they walked toward me and started shooting. Their ammo were small eraser like pellets. They didn’t hurt at all. Nonetheless, I hunkered down, turning my face away and covering my head with my arms and hands to protect myself.
Laughing, they walked away and I stood. My wife came up and asked what was going on. I explained it all, finding her one of the many pellets on the ground and showing it to her. She declared that I should turn them in. I didn’t want to, thinking them harmless. My wife returned to her shopping. I watched the girls more as they separated, then decided to leave. As I was leaving the store, going down a small set of steps to the door, one of the girls shoot me a few times in the back and laughed. I shook my head, dismissing her.
The dream shifted. Someone unspecified and unknown asked me if I was interested in some event. Details were sketchy. Bored, I agreed. I then met up with a young man, no one from RL, I knew him. He was tanned, with a thatch of thick, black hair, a wide, toothy white grin, short and pudgy. We went to catch transportation to the event. The running shoes I wore were new and hurt my feet. They just felt too narrow, pinching the sides of my feet.
We got on an old school bus with many others, all males, and were taken to a field, a short journey. There I learned that we were supposed to be taking part in a running event. I was annoyed because I didn’t know that’s what we were going to do. If I’d known, I would have worn different shoes. But I was stuck with us. Waiting, many of us took our shoes off. We were all wondering why we were waiting. I realized that most of the others were in military uniforms, variations of desert style camouflage. Unshaven, they were in the US Army. I held myself away from them because I as ex Air Force, but didn’t say anything.
I wanted to get running and get it done. Several others were expressing the same thing. My young friend was saying no, wait. I kept asking why, what are you waiting for. While he would explain, I gathered he was waiting for other friends, which annoyed me. Finding my shoes, I announced I was going to start running.
My shoes fit much better. I was surprised how comfortable they were and then realized, that was because they weren’t my shoes. Taking them off, I found my shoes and fiddled with them, pushing out the sides and loosening the strings to make them more comfortable. That worked to a moderate degree.
Feeling like the shoes would work for a distance, I announced that I was going to start running. Others were saying the same. A few began jogging. I decided I was going to run the entire route and took off running fast. As I ran, I heard others talking about how fast I was running. That prompted me to run faster and harder. I vowed that I was going to run fast the entire way. Everyone was going to be amazed by how fast I ran.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Michael Seidel, writer 