Saturday’s Theme Music

Morning salutations. It’s Saturday, March 25, 2023. Tucker used a querulous old man filter on his morning meow, forcing me up earlier than wanted. You know how persistence a querulous old man can be? Tucker has learned it. Anyway, the blinds were pulled up and there it was, two inches of snow. Well, they’d warned us. Snow was still falling. At 33 F, it’s not the thick stuff, but a wet slush piling up. Piling up is too dramatic; it’s just edging up. Supposed to reach 44 today, the weather masters say. So snow will stop and rain will commence. The temp will crash back into the high twenties tonight, and snow will commence again.

Sunrise was at 7:05. I can’t swear to that, because, clouds and snow. It’s just one big white slouchy pillow up there, draped down over the mountains. Pretty yesterday after the snow because we had a dramatic scene to the northeast, blackening clouds plopped on top of unkempt white and gray clouds, crashing an the snowy mountains all the way down to the snowline, where it went solid green. That’s all gone today.

About this snow, though, it graciously doesn’t stay on the pavement and asphalt, so those are clear of snow but wet. So, we’re muttering abut the snow because this is spring, thanks, and, like white shoes, snow is supposed to have its season. But we’re are pleased that driving is not impacted…much. The snow adds to the bank and we’ll need that this summer. Probably. I’m guessing.

The cats saw the snow, felt the cold, ate, and announced, “Screw this,” and went back to sleep.

Shelters are open for the homeless but it’s not a clean scene. Hot meals are served twice a day for them but at another location as the shelters are basically churches and the library. Some homeless are camping in the parks. I’m fine with it in principle but locals around those areas complain about the smells that end up arising because of people using alleys and areas around the parks as latrines. That also makes it a health hazard.

The Neurons’ music choice came out of a memory track. The track began by generally walking and thinking. Somehow, Cream and “Badge” emerged from sleeping in the gray vaults to play in my head. After they played, I recalled that a female group had once come out with their version of “Badge”. The Neurons were sent to excavate the name. Eventually it came back, Fanny. I’d mentioned Fanny to several people through the years but nobody ever knew them. My mind questioned whether they existed in this reality or it was something I’d made up. Perhaps, gentle suggestions were made, I had the name wrong. All possible.

But with the net, I looked up Fanny this morning and confirmed they were real. Then I found some terrific videos someone had made of them. Time was spent listening to them, enjoying the sound. I played “Badge” but also several other videos, including, “Hey Bulldog”. I always enjoyed it, so here it is.

Already had coffee. Soon as I saw the snow, mind ordered it now, hot and black. Stay pos and take the day. Here’s Fanny – hope you enjoy them. Cheers

Saturday’s Wandering Thought

He’d watched the weather. Falling snow shifted from pellets to fat flakes to faint flakes.

The snow stopped. A rising sun melted it all away. Steam lifted from the cement and asphalt.

A hummingbird flew up to the plants under his window. Zipping between each offering, it didn’t land, hurrying on to another set of plants.

A hummingbird. In winter. He knew it was possible and shouldn’t surprise him, but it was a first for him.

Sunday’s Theme Music

The weather floof ran in, energetic with excitement. “It’s snowing!”

“Yes,” I answered, “I told you it was snowing before letting you out six and a half minutes ago.”

“It’s really coming down,” the weather floof continued.

“I know. We can see that through the window.”

“My fur is wet. Feel it.”


Not getting the sarcasm (they never do), the weather floof walked to the kibble. “I’m going to re-energize and then go out and see what the weather is like.”

The weather floof is Papi. He is and forever shall be the ginger menace, the orange blade, flash, and a bunch of other names, including Meep. He originated as Meep when he was the neighbor’s cat for the sound that he made. Now that he’s lived with Tucker for a few years, he’s found a proper meow and only rarely meeps.

He’s right about the snow. It’s really coming down. Seriously, it’s coming down. Not laying or sticking, at 36 F. But snow in March in Ashlandia? That forced a number of Ashlandians to pick their jaws up and put them back in place. How many days in a row have we seen snow? That surprises us, too. Every day, Alexa tells us we have another winter weather advisory. “Snow will start at twelve AM and continue falling until nine PM.”

Skiers are happy, though. “Hey, there’s new powder on Mount Ashland.” Yes, we know.

Dawn began early. It is entertaining to find dawn’s arrival obviating lighting requirements as I feed cats, let them out, and let them back in. We only have two now, down from five. The two we have seem to think that they need to fill the space and use the time previously allotted to the departed cats. Sometimes, I’ll call for the late felines just for these two’s reactions. Ears go back. They check each other and look over their shoulders, probably worrying about ghost cats. That’s all we’d need to make life complete.

Maybe that should be a television series: Ghost Pets.

It’s Sunday, March 5, 2023. Just around the corner from little sister’s birthday. Sunrise was at 6:40 and sunset will be at 6:06. The weather floof says it’ll be chilly and snowy today. Sunlight barely lights up the back of the grey sky of clouds. High temp will be 39 F.

A Neil Diamond song, “I Am I Said,” 1971, flows through the morning mental music stream. My wife asked me (again!) if I was going to do some household task. I replied, “I said I am.” The Neurons took it from there.

Stay pos. Drinking coffee helps me in that regard. Gotta go now. The weather cat wants back out. Cheers

Slideday’s Theme Music

We continue with a shrinkage problem here in Ashlandia. Yes, the snow patches are holing and shrinking. Snow repair teams were sent in yesterday. Although they worked with demonic intensity, it was slapdash, thin in many places, and the snow continues to disappear.

It’s Friday, March 3, 2023 — 030323 — in Ashlandia. Call it Slideday, though. Came up with that decades ago as I noticed bosses and organizations often let things slide on Friday. “We’ll pick it up Monday.” Unless customer orders, hard delivery dates, or the end of quarter/end of year was underway. Then you work until it’s done, damn the day of the weak.

Sun’s presence struck Ashlandia at 6:43 this AM. Starting at 26 F, the temperature climbed to 32 F and will go on to 42 F today. A weather monitor told us on TV last night that our average daytime high temperatures are hanging about ten degrees below normal. Ashlandia will see sunset at 6:03 this evening. Stretched white clouds sail a faint blue sky. Sunshine smiles on it.

Got a favorite song in the morning mental music stream. Reading the news inspired The Neurons to dig up an old political ditty performed by this Brit group, The Who. No, not the Guess Who?. Told the tale of Mom buying this album for me when I employed it as a theme song back in 2017, so I won’t belabor that aspect. I cranked up the stereo for “Won’t Get Fooled Again” back in 1971. Hard to believe that was just 52 years ago. Seems like just 20 years ago.

Stay pos and seize the slideday. I’m seizing the coffee. It’s a start, right? Carpe caffeine. Here’s the memory music.


Fursday Theme Music

Sunshine beamed in on gray rays at 6:45 Ashlandia morning time. As the hours scurry past, snow fields lose their battle against heat. Their edges draw in with softer roundness. Reinforcement flurries are flying in later today. Will it be enough? Will it arrive in time? It’s dire for the snow. Caught in the situation, icicles cling to gutters and drainpipes. Crystallized snow falls off branches and leaves with tinkling hisses.

It’s 31 F, on its way to 44 F, according to the weather mongers.

It’s Thursday, March 2, 2023, a hazy wintry shade. Spring has temporarily slid its intentions back into the Ashlandia shadows. But fresh stocks of doughnuts are in stores and bakeries. Sunset arrives in the evening, 6:03.

Les chats aren’t pleased with the weather situation, particularly Papi. His energy boils up. Sunshine reinvigorates him. Tthere he goes, dashing through the snow…well, not dashing, but employing small steps, bean-toeing on his tiny paws — such small murder mittens, he has — back to the house’s inside warmth for distraction. We have things to do, we explain to him, around petting and playing with him. More, he begs with sweet eyes and voice. What are we to do against such a power but obey?

I cleaned our carpetting the other day. As I drifted through that mechanical process, my freed mind contemplated me, my life, my writing. Cleaning house is always a meditative function for me. As thoughts joined and fragmented, I drifted through the usual shallows of who I am, where I’m at, and where I’m hiding. Out of this, The Neurons pulled a song up, dusted it off, and put into into the mental music stream where it still plays this morning. “Holly Holy” by Neil Diamond” when I was a young teenager. Looking it up, records show it was 1969. It wasn’t a popular song among my friends. Too slow and most said, “I don’t understand it.” Nor did I. It’s buildup hooked me, and I sat, listening to the words, trying to get them right, baffled by what I heard. But I heard and understood some of the first lines, “Where I am, what I am, what I believe in,” had me. This is an exploration and a declaration. I identified with it.

Coffee’s aromatic steam rises from my cup, enticing my lips. Stay pos, and own this Thursday like it’s a gift you didn’t expect. Here’s the tune. Cheers

Marchday’s Theme Music

March 1, 2023. Congratulations. You did it! You made it to the next month. That’s how we’ll get ahead, one step, one day, one month, one year at a time. It’s the long game. As Bob sang, “Turn the page.”

Today is Wednesday. Temperature has climbed to 32 degrees F, on its way to 42 F. Snow still covers everything except the streets. Sunrise at 6:46 delivered a mega-watt shine off all that snow. My eyes were bypassing my brain to tell my hands, put on those sunglasses. Sunset will close the daylight on this winter Ashlandia day at 6:01 PM.

Yesterday AM was spent reading and writing as the snow fell. When will it stop, we wondered, and asked Alexa. She informed us it was cloudy. Snow will start at 1 PM. What? “Alexa, what are the chances of snow in Ashlandia?”

“There is a fifty-four percent chance it will snow in Ashlandia.”

We laughed at the silly tech. Checking online, they said the snow will stop in sixty-one minutes.

It didn’t. It stopped about 85 minutes later.

Roads were plowed and cindered. All was melting. We’d been planning to clean the carpeting on that day. My wife suggested that we hold off because, snow. But seeing conditions, I decided to press on. I picked up the machine and did the deed. It looks great. Now the machine must be returned.

Today’s music was suggested by The Neurons. Someone mentioned a hot toddy would be nice in an online post. The Neurons immediately sang, “Hot toddy, check it and see. I want a toddy inside of me.” All this was to the Foreigner song, “Hot Blooded” from 1978. Wasn’t long before the proper lyrics were ringing in the morning mental music stream.

Stay pos. Hope your Wednesday and your March take you higher. (That triggered Sly and the Family Stone with, “I Want to Take You Higher”.) I need coffee. See you later.

Here’s the tune. Cheers

Flurrsday’s Theme Music

Sunrise’s 0650 arrival showed us, flurries. They’re on the smallish side but they’re earnest. With the thermometer flailing at 33 degrees F, the flurries pile up. But it all melts when they take a pause. Most be demoralizing to work so hard, dropping millions of flakes and yet see no appreciable accumulation.

It’s Monday. Feb. 27, 2023, the NTL day of February, in case you’ve not been told that February has twenty-eight days this year. Children are walking, school buses are running, parents are dropping off students and zipping off for errands, work, exercise classes. My wife went off to the last.

Sunset is due at 5:58 PM. The weather whizzes tell us 40 F is Ashlandia’s high temperature expectation.

The cats are amfloofvalent about the snow. Tucker looks out without comment. Papi demands freedom. Released to the back yard, he zips around through the flurries to the front porch and demands permission to come back in. He knows Oregon weather at this time of year, so he expects it to change, but it’s not happening as fast as he’d like. I suggest he sit down, maybe have a cup of coffee and observe the weather through the window. He replies, “Meeep.” It’s his trademark sound. That was his name. He’s sometimes referenced as the floof formerly known as Meep.

Meep and Tucker did eat in the same room this morning. That’s a remarkable achievement. Maybe flooftente is thawing. They’ve only lived together for six years. It takes time.

Tucker is doing better with his hind section but still can’t jump. Appetite is much improved, though. We took a risk last week. Bought a twenty-five pound bag of kibble from Costco. Tucker is very discriminating about what he’ll eat, like a child eyeing whatever is offered. Papi is more liberal with what he puts in his mouth. He’s like, “Food! Yes!” Chomp chomp. Neither of them like anything with sweet potato in it. The purchased food is chicken and rice.

Well, Tucker leaped into the new food with gusto. Emptied his kibble bowl and then pulled over the bag to paw out more. See? Improved appetite.

In dispiriting news from around the U.S., Republicans keep pushing to pull books from schools and libraries. Fear, you know. What will their blessed offspring learn? God, what will they see? Might see nekkid people. May even discover that everyone poops. In the name of the holy bible, we can’t have that. They much prefer blinders on their little ones.

They’re playing, “Let’s pretend.” Let’s pretend that people don’t identify differently from the genders we think they are. There are only two, you know. That’s what Jesus said, and the disciples agreed with them to a man. Let’s pretend that slavery was a good thing and that racism doesn’t exist. Thus it is that books may not reference sex, racism, slavery, and other things that make certain people ill. See, it’s only certain people pushing these agendas, a terrified vocal minority.

Okay, end snark.

Was pleased with the SAG results last night, as far as Everything Everywhere All at Once winning four honors. I enjoyed the movie and thought it deserving. Didn’t see many of the other movies, so I don’t know if my opinion is relevant.

BTW, just finished a novel, Legends and Lattes by Travis Baltree. Cited as high fantasy, and featuring a Orc swordswoman as the protagonist, it’s almost like a cozy, but it’s an entertaining and clever send-up of coffee houses as well. My wife found it and passed it on to me after she enjoyed it. I recommend it if you’re looking for a light read.

After a raucous dream night, I have “Bang!” playing on the morning mental music stream loud system. AJR released it a few years ago. It’s an interesting ditty, not about Jack and Diane, but about adulting, being responsible, like moving to your own place, filing taxes, and trying to remember a password.

Stay pos. The oaties have been eaten — they were of a sweet variety today, with brown sugar and blackberries. I have coffee at hand. Sips have been consumed. I am a go. Here’s the music. Pretend you know this song.


Friday’s Theme Music

We’ve shifted back into standard Ashlandia winter mode. Dropping into the twenties at night, forties to fifties, all Fahrenheit, during the day.

It’s Friday. It’s Feb. 24, 2023. Sunshine broke in at 6:54 this morning, lighting up two fresh inches of snow. Was 29 F then. Now we’re up to 34 and the snow is melting. I saw the snow falling and accumulating as Papi made his usual declarations about being an outdoor animal and needing to leave the house, then changing his mind and demanding to come back in because he’s domesticated. The weather wizards inform us that we’ll see 46 F before the sun whisks away over the horizon at 5:55 PM.

Up north in Portland, friends share videos of heavier dumps, like ten inches. Meanwhile, a buddy down in Santa Cruz shows photos of several inches in his area. February is made for snow this year.

I had words in the head sometime in the last twenty-four heures that went, “Bring it on, here¬†we are, win or lose.” I was contemplating the snow and drought and snowpack, and the associated variables that accumulate into our annual regional water concerns. Hearing my thoughts, The Neurons said, “Hey, we know that song,” and inundated my morning mental music stream with Float On by Modest Mouse from 2004. Jeremiah Green, the Modest drummer, passed away on the last day of 2022, cancer, 45 years old. I think of him because I enjoyed his drumming in this song. Reminders of our mortality are everywhere.

Stay positive. Carpes Friday. I’ll do the same after chugging some strong black roasted bean water. Here’s the tune. Cheers

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