Tuesday is singing through the open windows. A train’s whistle, the bottle recycle truck with its growl and crashes as bottles are thrown into a pile, cars hustling the asplalt. School has begun; the vibe is different. It’s August 27th. Summer’s talking about finishing for 2024.
We drink coffee and surf the net, summoning the energy to launch ourselves to the Growers Market for fresh produce. I have vowed to find a turnover or scone to eat in a late breakfast. I’m ready to go, for I’ve downed some coffee. My wife is moving more slowly.
Purpleair says our air quality is declining and has crossed the line from good to whatever is a littl worse than good. It’s 62 F now but indications are that it’ll chug up to the mid 80s F today.
I continue with time as the theme, as in time must be in the song’s title. A great quantity of rock and pop songs met the standards. Everyone sings about time but nobody does anything about it.
The Neurons have found an oldie. It thrashes the morning mental music stream (Trademark stalled) as I sit here. “Let the Good Times Roll” came out in 1946, ten years before my birth. Louis Jordan was the performer. But in my lifetime, it felt like it B.B. King owned it. I turn to B.B. for today’s primary version, as that’s what I’m hearing in my head.
Stay positive, be strong. Black coffee helps me with those things. Here’s the music. We’re off to the market. Cheers
News stories scan make me blanch. Yes, of course there are feel-good Olympic stories. News outlets thrive on those. They sell clicks and papers and increase viewership. People want to feel good about the world. They don’t want to read of a school bombed in Gaza City with nearly 100 killed. And they want to turn away from the Trumpstorm that is the 2024 GOP campaign. Weird describes their candidates and also describes some of the base, but what describes the rest?
Baby formula recalls, Venezuela, Elon Musk, X.
Here, we’re dealing with wildfires and smoke pollution. Wildfires are being fought not just all over Oregon but California, Wyoming, Washington, Idaho, Colorado…that’s just the tip.
This is Saturday, August 10, 2024. There are less than 90 days until the elections.
It’s 62 F. We’ll see our average and usual high today, 92 F. Good. The air is low moderate again, and I can see the mountains and blue skies today.
A dancing outing is planned for Lake of the Woods Resort. The air is checked. Not good. Discussions are engaged: should we still go?
Time to start a new theme week. The idea of going out dancing brought up a bunch of songs for The Neurons, so that’s this week’s theme: dancing. One of their favorites, now circulating the morning mental music stream (Trademark burning) is a 1983 fast-tempo beat by the Pointer Sisters called “Neutron Dance”. Point of order for The Neurons: this is not “Neuron Dance”. Yes, that is how they hear the lyrics, but that doesn’t change the truth.
Though coming out of the techno 1980s, it’s a song for the current era. Themes like homelessness — “The rent is due, I got no place to stay.” Weariness: “It’s hard to say just how some things never change and it’s hard to find any strength to draw the line.”
don’t wanna take it anymore I’ll just stay here locked behind the door Just no time to stop and get away ‘Cause I work so hard to make it every day
[Chorus] And it’s hard to say Just how some things never change And it’s hard to find Any strength to draw the line Oh, I’m just burnin’ doin’ the neutron dance (Ah, ah, ah) I’m just burnin’ doin’ the neutron dance
[Refrain] Whoo-ooh (Whoo-ooh) I’m on fire, yeah I’m on fire, yeah
[Chorus] And it’s hard to say Just how some things never change And it’s hard to find Any strength to draw the line Oh, I’m just burnin’ doin’ the neutron dance (Ah, ah, ah) I’m just burnin’ doin’ the neutron dance
Let’s all sing it and dance. h/t to Genius.com for the lyrics. Easier to copy than typing them all out.
Stay positive — I now, I’m one to speak — be strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue. Coffee and I have met up on a drink day. Here’s the video. Cheers
The cats and I agree, it’s a strong sun today, biting my skin with its heat, blinding my eyes (yes, what else would it be blinding — my ears?) with its light. Not supposed to be hot today, just 87 F, and it’s just 67 F now. This is Monday, Jun 24, 2024.
The cats are pratically living in the backyard, slumbering beneath bushes or stretched out, floof-napping in green patches of lawn. They come in to visit me, get fed, and use the litter box, and then dash back out. Reminds me of being a young child in the summers, doing the same with Mom. Except I didn’t use a litter box. Not in those days.
I jest, of course! Spoke with Dad yesterday. He’s down. They — the omniscient they here is the medical staff — are pushing for the dialysis port, and he doesn’t want to go through with that. He seems fazed by the surgery and claims he doesn’t want to be a burden on people, as others would need to drive him to his appointments several times a week. I’m sure he will go through with the procedure but he needs to work himself up to it. I called him this morning to chat with him but reached his voice mail. I need to call Mom to catch her up on that news. Never did call her yesterday.
Terrible flooding in the midwest. Iowa was severely hit. Evacuations were ordered and bridges collapsed. I remember flying over the plains states decades ago. The floating and the heat dome are connected events. Hope the climate doesn’t get any worse or the nation and its citizens might start getting worried. Yeah, that’s snark, baby.
My spouse picked up a nice Charles Wysocki jigsaw puzzle at Ashlandia’s library of things yesterday. I thought we should have some on hand for more Internet outages. We began the puzzle last night, even though the net didn’t go out. Lovely little beach scene featuring an old house where a high school kite flying club meets. Kites lean against an old fence in the sand and a heart shaped balloon, tethered to the gate, floats above the scene, red against a cloudy blue and white backdrop. A few sailboats skim choppy waters in the background. I can almost smell that ocean.
Other than these matters and the standard form of our days of eating, cleaning, writing, reading, it’s quiet. I accept quiet. Still recuperating with my ankle issue.
Today’s music comes by way of Willy Nelson. I was reading about his show cancellations and the article reminded me of a gay cowboy song Willy sings. The Neurons immediately began a little rendition of the song, “Cowboys Are Frequently Fond of Each Other”, in the morning mental music stream (Trademark grazing). Although Willy’s version came out back when Brokeback Mountain was gaining Oscar attention, I picked up a later version done by Willy and Orville Peck. Hope you enjoy it.
Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Also brace yourself for a busy news week. With more SCOTUS news forthcoming, the end of June sending up a cloud of dust as it sprints at us, and the debates and the weather, I’m sure there will be a lot to talk about, read about, and GRRRRR about.
We’re under one big cloud shield in Ashlandia, presenting us a gray, dim morning. It’s Thursday, June 20, 2024, and the summer equinox. Doesn’t seem it. Seems like spring rushed in for on more jolly. 58 F, though, we’re expecting the temperature measuring devices to show us temperatures in the high 80s.
For now, I’m hitting myself in the head regarding a series of ‘why didn’t I?’
Background: I have a toilet which won’t stop running. I’ve fixed these before so I wasn’t overly worried. That attitude didn’t help. I didn’t provide it the attention I should have. I fiddled with the flush valve and the water ceased flowing. Hurrah, right?
No, fool. I’m the fool. Not you.
I went out and bought replacement parts and I thought all was going well. So I took my time. Decided to address it late in the afternoon. Then I used the toilet and flushed. It started running; wouldn’t stop. Okay, time to fix it.
First move, turn off the water to the toilet.
It wouldn’t go off. I screwed around with that a bit. Then a bit more. And more. In fact, I wasted almost an hour on that. Okay, turn off the water to the house.
Where the hell is my shut off valve?
I walked around the house and looked for it but I’ve lived here a while and have never seen it. I researched on line for all the possibilities and searched them out. Not there, not there, not there, not there, not there. Finally found it where all said it should be, by the water meter, by the street, but it was buried. By now it’s after 8 PM. I tried turning off the water.
Couldn’t do it with my crescent wrench. Not the space to turn a crescent wrench in there, nor any other wrench. You need a special tool.
Of course! This is the age of special tools. (Cue singing, “This is the dawning of the age of special tools, age of special tools,” sung to the tune of The Fifth Dimension’s song, “Age of Aquarius”. My apologies for that. Also add a little snark about Trump and MAGAs being tools. Yeah, shame on me.)
Now this is where I really screwed up.
First, I didn’t think about rushing out and buying the special tool. My wife talked me into waiting until today to take care of it. But I can hear that water running. It’s not just a trickle, either. I can hear that waste.
Why didn’t I go to Home Depot, just a few miles up the road, and buy the tool? Why didn’t I call the city and say, hey, come turn off my water? I’d trapped myself with tunnel vision.
Obsessed with the running water sound, I woke up early and realized those things. Called the city. Asked them to send out someone to shut off the water. ‘Course, that’s not a real emergency, so it’ll take a while. Then I’ll go buy the tool so I have it on hand. And I’ll fix the shut off valve on the toilet and the stupid toilet. But I’m really disappointed in my poor judgement and weak thinking. Must not have had enough coffee.
Turning to the positive side of that, it distracted me from Mom’s situation, Dad’s hospitalization, my ankle, politics, and troubling news from around the world. Always a silver lining, isn’t there?
Finally, though, I harped on myself for not having the special tool on hand and for not knowing where my valve was. What if there had been a burst pipe in the house? I pride myself on being proactive and I was anything but all the way around with this.
People of course, will ask, why didn’t you just call a plumber? And here again, I’m up against myself: I like being self-sufficient. I like DIY. I dislike being ignorant about things and dependent on others. So, yeah, that’s all on the idiot I call me.
The incident of the toilet that won’t stop running inspired The Neurons, of course. They’ve programmed “Urgent” by Foreigner from 1981 into the morning mental music stream (Trademark: stuck).
Update: As I was typing, a worker arrived and shut off the water. I rushed out and spoke with him and learned about the dangers of turning if off myself — like breaking something, you know? A very nice guy, he’d heard the duty call phone ring while he was in a safety meeting and went out to hear the messages. Hearing mine, he left the meeting and came out and addressed my issue. Telling me to call back whenever I went it turned back on, he rushed back to the meeting. So easy; why didn’t I call them last night?
BTW, we did prepare for not having water by filling a water jug, a bucket, the coffee maker, the tea kettle, and the water pitcher in the frig. I hope that this isn’t shut off for long, but you know me, I’m an optimist.
Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee is in me. I have a few things I need to go take care of now, so I’m gonna go. Here’s the music.
It’s Monday, June 17, 2024. Ashlandia is drying out from yesterday’s late afternoon rain and more precipitation decorating the night. Branches are tangoing with the wind and a blue sky as dazzling as a diamond suggests, we have a nice day lined up for you, folks. It’s 50 degrees F out with humidity floating in the eighties and a chance for the thermometer to breach the upper sixties. Spring rules again, although all is fully bloomed, waiting for our entrance. I’m a little sneezy and itchy-eyed with allergies.
The neighborhood is so quiet, you can hear a cat meow. A flying crow chastises us as he beats wings to somewhere else. Cars roll up with stoic indifference, delivering a gentle rumble from engine and tires.
No updates on Dad. They were to call when opportunity for us to chat came. So, sigh, I wait.
Meanwhile, back in Pennsylvania, Mom is stirring up issues by claiming her beau made up an invitation that included Mom to go to a party with his family. She went to the party but did not enjoy herself because, she said, they were surprised to see her. She doesn’t think she was invited; my sister suggested, “Mom, you told them you weren’t coming. Of course they’re surprised when you showed up.”
But no, the invitation didn’t include her; it was manufactured. We don’t understand why he’d do that; discussing it logically with her is a task for someone with stronger shoulders. She doesn’t hear us, and doesn’t want to hear us. I remember taking conversations with her about this same matter fifteen years ago. It’s coloring our memories of her, making her bitter, angry, and hostile in our memories. That’s the problem with aging and living longer: we begin with a vision of who we want to be, and push efforts that way, and then our mind and body twist, erasing our vision.
Dinner with friends last night was entertaining. A jigsaw puzzle was begun. Featuring odd-shaped pieces, it’s not as fun as those with uniform shapes, even though it was an interesting scene from a museum with patrons.
This morning, we deliver for Food & Friends, and then I’m going to slip on my customary writing routine, and frequent the coffee shop. Ankle is wrapped. Swelling remains a matter to address but I don’t know how much is ankle injury and how much is my recurring edema. Ice, elevate, rest, but it’s tedious and mood-altering.
Songs came together today from thoughts of summer. Specifically, the heat wave riding others in the U.S. Out of that train, The Neurons pulled in “Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth with Money in My Hand” from 1996 by Primitive Radio Gods. Starting with that B.B. King sample, it plays and repeats in the morning mental music stream (Trademark chillin’). See, it has a line in there, “Does summer come for everyone?” I think the ground for this song and its lazy, reflective tone by a song on another blog the other day, “Tom’s Diner” by Suzanna Vega. They have similiar feels to me.
Coffee is making the trip between the lips. Be positive, stay strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Let’s go get ’em, tiger. Here’s the music. Cheers
Spring has hardened its grip on its final days in Ashlandia, pulling us back out of sprummer. Cloudy, chilly, blustery, partly sunny, it’s a ‘y’ day. Temperature is hanging onto 60 F now, up from the low in the 40s. In fact, the heat came on this morning because the house’s inside temperature dropped to around 66. The horror of it all. Today’s high is expected to squeeze close to 67 F.
No matter, the cats have found outside places to chill. Tucker is under the bush off the patio right beside the front door. Papi is on the other side of the yard, under the bushes by the wooden fence. With these positions, they have the entire yard covered. These two positions have been coveted and held by cats since we first moved here in 2006.
Our Father’s Day plans don’t include fathers. I’m still waiting for an update on Dad. I spoke to his wife yesterday. He was in good spirits in the hospital and the fluid around his heart was being removed. She said she’d have him call me when the chance came. My wife’s father passed away back in 1991, just after he retired, right after he turned 65.
But we have this monthly thing with friends. Social people, about my parents’ ages, they’ve become housebound with health issues so once a month, we go to dinner at their house. Food is provided by a local restaurant. We take turns paying. Sometimes we watch sumpthin’ on TV; once in a while we work on a jigsaw puzzle. More often, we just chat and visit. We missed the engagement in May as I was in Pittsburgh (well, Penn Hills) visiting Mom and family.
I have the Rolling Stones singing “The Last Time” from 1965 in my morning mental music stream (Trademark fused). The Neurons didn’t reveal a reason for the song but I’d guess it has something to do with Dad being in the hospital.
Be strong, stay positive, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee is making its way through my system, and here is the music video. Cheers
Good morning, internetters. Welcome to June’s Second Saturday, June 8, 2024. If you’re like us, we celebrate Second Saturday in June. Holiday or not, we start with feeding the cats because the little dears will pester us into surrender. Yes, they have ‘just in case’ kibble in bowls and nevermind that they didn’t eat all of the previous tinned food in bowls. The tinned food bowls are cleaned and fresh stuff is spooned in for their dining pleasure.
Once we’ve taken care of the floofs, the real festivities begin. We start with coffee. While that’s soaking my system, I make my breakfast because my wife doesn’t eat breakfast for several more hours. Next, I dress. Sometimes a load of washing clothes is started for Second Saturday. The floor was vacuumed for First Friday, so no need for that today. We just go around picking up leaves and sticks floofs carried in for us, along with food they somehow transported around the house from their eating areas, along with fur and hair they’ve dropped along the way. Next, our family traditionally gets on the computer to get a Second Saturday news update, you know, see who died, who has gone to war, who has been convicted, and what new natural disasters have struck. Then we’re free to celebrate Second Saturday by washing the car and running errands. It’s a joyous day.
This Second Saturday is also the Green Bag pickup, so our bag full of supplies for the local food bank is on the porch, awaiting pickup by volunteers who transport it to the sorting and distribution center.
Our sprummery weather continues. It’s 67 F now, up from our 56 F starting point but eighteen degrees below our expected high in Ashlandia, where the creeks and rivers are flowing and full — for the moment. Sunlight is missing kissing some clouds rear end, but a friendly cool breeze is circulating, placating the likes of me. I enjoy a cool sunny morning so long as it’s not too cool. This day is just right.
I have two net friends who had floofs pass away yesterday. Thinking about their losses after expressing something toward to them, a song from 1993 filled the morning mental music stream (Trademark upended). Sarah McLachlan wrote “Possession” in response love letters from her fans. I think The Neurons pulled it out of memory more for the song’s reflective sound about yearning, love, and hope.
Stay positive, remain strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Summer is coming. Well, in the northern hemes. South of zero, winter is coming.
Here’s the music. Coffee is being sucked up. Enjoy your Second Saturday. Cheers
There I was, at the Mother’s Day cookout. Outside Mom and her beau, I’m the oldest there, edging toward 68. I didn’t feel like a day over 30.
More importantly and striking, we had six mothers there. Three were also grandmothers. One — Mom — is a great-grandmother.
Four generations sharing burgers, sausages, and hotdogs, salad and corn, wine, beer, and sodas, and a mighty sprawl of dessert. Great way to celebrate a holiday. And for this one, all was well.
It’s the day after Mother’s Day, Monday, May 13, 2024. Summer is shouldering into today’s weather. The sky is bursting with hot sunshine. Clouds linger, spectators on the fringes, hanging on to see what happens. 57 F at the mo’, 81 F is mentioned as a high in several weather forecasts.
A song by Alice in Chains, “No Excuses”, rattles around the morning mental music stream (No Trademark that I know). Les Neurons were pretty transparent in their cogitating and choice today. The inclusion of the 1993 song has origins in both dreams and general thinking.
Per cool, stay chill and positive, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Here’s the music video. Cheers
Good day, all you misfits, miscreants, and citizens. Today is the day before Wednesday and the day after Monday, April 16, 2024. Summer is right around the corner, and then a few blocks away.
Sunny here in Ashlandia, but that was needed. Woke up to 35 F. Now it’s 51 F. Clouds pepper the eastern blue sky and smother the western sky. Gonna go below freezing tonight but we’ll lift up to 64 F before the sun leaves today’s scene.
Must mention, though, the air here smells and feels really fresh, like its never been breathed before. It’s mighty fine air.
Mom is doing well, living large at the rehab center. Tucker is recovering fabulously. I caught him setting up an ambush for Papi in the living room. Papi rounded the corner, saw Tucker and sat down to stare at him. Tucker busied himself observing the sunshine on the carpet. Both floofs’ tails flicked in that eternal signal that they’re waiting, watching, thinking.
The Neurons popped up with “All You Zombies” by the Hooters in the morning mental music stream (Trademark flashing). I’m afraid the 1982 song’s presence in the stream is politically related. I’d just finished a NYTimes column about the state of Trump’s MAGAers before his criminal trial.
This, by the way, is the criminal trial about Trump paying hush money to keep the story about his affair with Stormy Daniels. Just didn’t want to ensure you didn’t mistake it for another trial.
The trial started Monday, that is to say, yesterday. The story was written a few days ago. Trump’s supporters were happy and confident as ever that the trial didn’t matter. Dressed in red, white, and blue outfits, including onesies, or in camouflage, it was a rave event, even though much of what Trump said in his speech has been disproven as lies, false information, misinformation, or urban myths.
They didn’t care! No sirree. They are mated for life with him.
So the song, “All You Zombies”, would seem to fit because zombies are the unthinking blissed out undead in our society.
Stay pos, be brilliant, remain strong, and Vote Blue. Coffee has gone over the lips and past the gums. Here’s the music. Feel free to sing along. Cheers
Thou has come a distance, traveler. You’ve reached the holy land of Monday, January 29, 2024. Please sit and rest. Something to drink? Wine, coffee? Something stronger?
We have dense fog and high wind warnings out. Fog isn’t in my view; that’s blue with lazy lacy white ribbons of unrolling clouds. But wind is beating down those trees, shaking the bushes, and causing the cats to hunker and blast back in when they have a chance. Now 62 F outside my home, today’s high will be 70 F.
Wait, what?
Yeah, I read that right on my goto weather site. It’s wonderfully comfortable. Makes you feel like a new lover is touching you. But alas, it ain’t good for our general situation. Our snowbank is only 36% of the standard. We do have more wintering to do and there is generally a change in February and a final winter push in March, but to be at this snowpack level at this time of year is wince-inducing for what the summer will be like. Fingers and toes and legs and arms are crossed that summer won’t be life in a burning charcoal briquet again.
The Neurons have “I’m Just A Singer (In A Rock & Roll Band)” by the Moody Blues playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). I was thinking about what I wanted and needed to do this day when Der Neurons began playing it and I sang along. I know the song well, even though the majority of my high school friends and people since weren’t Moody Blues fans, forcing me to enjoy them alone. Except for “Nights In White Satin”. Lot of my friends knew and enjoyed that song.
What interests me about this 1973 song, and it probably only interests me, is that I played this song last year, that is, January of 2023. What is it about January or this song that they meet in my mind in January?
Looking at last year’s Moody Blues post, I wrote:
Today will reach 55 F or so before the sun vanishes from the Ashlandia sky around the 5:20 PM time period — it’ll be earlier in the mountains’ shadows by an hour or seem like the sun has set — but the forecasters are warning us. Winter is going to get serious. Lower temperatures will be coming by, clouds are collecting, and rain and snow are possible. Then, fanfare, Monday will see an Arctic blast. Lows will freefall into the teens. Daytime highs will scrap into the thirties. Break out extra binkies and some space heaters, hope power doesn’t fail, and take measures to ensure your pipes don’t freeze. The hardest part, though, will be convincing Papi to stay in. He’s gonna test the temps, I know.
Lots to do today. Food and Friends deliveries in about thirty minutes. That’ll eat 90 minutes. Writing and editing. Call Dad. Text Mom. Catch up with Sis. Store for a few items, nothing critical. Finish and submit my taxes. I usually have them in by now. Can’t believe I’ve waited this long.
Stay pos, remain strong, and lean forward. Here we go. Coffee up and dance. Here’s the music. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 