Today is Sunday, January 14, 2024. Spacious sunshine is floating bright and happy through our valley, though grim gray clouds hover here and there as if they’re waiting to strike. We wuz out on an early food shoptz (shopping blitz) and I rejoiced in all the sunshine. It’s 51 F, just a hair off today’s expected high of 52 F.
The cats are digging the sunshow, striking calendar-worthy poses in the bright light. Papi, being the high energy being he is, all light and fur, keeps going in and out, seeking escape from boredom. I play with him every time he comes back in but he bores of that, too. There’s just no pleasing some floofs.
Well, we’re fortunate here. North of us an hour as the car rolls, some houses are without power and experiencing temperatures in the twenties. Friends living in the suburbs of Portland are enduring no power with a temperature of 26 (which feels like 3). Ouch.
While on our shoptz, I heard “Need A Favor” by Jellyroll from 2022 on the radio. The Neurons just took it up and tucked it into the morning mental music stream (Trademark damned) where it remains this afternoon. TBH, its country sound has a definite rock sauce on it. But The Neurons were really taken by that line, “I only pray when I ain’t got a prayer.”
Stay strong, be pos, test negative and keep leaning forward. Hope you and yours are safe and comfortable wherever you are, whatever your weather. Cheers
It’s Thursday, Dec 7, 2023. I looked out. Rain clouds parted. My eyes drank in sunshine. Alexa said it was 37 F out but would reach 44 F. My weather system already said it was 43 F.
The clouds close. Rain falls. It’s aunter (a variation of autumn and winter) in Ashlandia, where the weather can be vexing, just as it happens in many world regions.
December 7. No need to think much about that date. Can’t say that all in the US remember December 7 and the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor and the Pacific Fleet, a step which pulled the US formally into WW II. Oh, people will pretend to remember, doing little ceremonies to solemnly recall history and what happened. I can’t guess what people remember of WW II in the US, not when they throw words around like fascism and socialism with little understanding of what they mean and what they are, not when NAZIs and white supremacy is openly embraced with greater frequency by one of our political parties and its leader, not when that leader openly talks about being a dictator. How can his supporters remember their history lessons when he calls for exterminating his political opponents and applauds dictators as smart, good people?
After all, these are the ones who declare us a Christian nation and fight against the separation of church and state. This was supposed to be a nation of freedom and equality. No, it was not born that way; women had few rights and were generally second-class citizens. For blacks, it was worse, as they lived as slaves and were horribly mistreated. Indians received even nastier treatment as their people were killed and their land was stolen, and immigrants from multiple places were pilloried, stripped of rights, and treated as if they were not human. No, it was not a pretty beginning, and there’s still a lot of shit going on. Witness how often police kill with impunity, and worse, how often those killed are Blacks. Witness how people trying to escape persecution in other countries are treated. Witness how many right-wingers treat LGBTQ+ citizens as undeserving of rights and security as fellow citizens, and how eagerly they throw people in prison.
But we were trying as a nation, making some progress, sometimes sliding backwards, but mostly managing to claw forward. Now the GOP and its wannabe dictator, Donald Trump, are striving to drag the country backward, away from freedom and equality no matter religion, sex, or the color of your skin, to a land of warped christianity, twisted history, and perverse values. Trump supporters — the MAGA — hungrily embrace his efforts, gleefully spreading lies and denying history, showing aggressive willingness to undermine and dismantle democracy regardless of the means, regardless of what the US Constitution and Bill of Rights might say, or the rule of law. “There’s no one like you,” I think of them, but I know there are millions like them, and millions more around the world.
No wonder The Neurons dragged “No One Like You” by the Scorpions into the morning mental music stream (Trademark imperiled). “There’s no one like you,” they sing in the song. I could hear them singing that about Trump in a disparaging way. No one like you, lying and cheating, misleading and whining, squealing with hate against justice, opponents, and anyone who is different than him, claiming everyone is being mean to him. No one like you, MAGA supporters, bleating about how great Trump is, ignoring all the disasters and failures which pepper his existence, the rapes he’s been accused of, his affairs, or his constant lying. Except there are others emulating Trump in DeSantis, Abbott, the ‘Moms for Liberty’. There are GOP legislators around the nation eagerly banning books, dismantling the education system, disenfranchising voters. There are too many like those close minded, repressive individuals.
Sunshine breaks out but rain is falling. Traffic streams by, throwing up small wakes. A long, thick, wide black cloud is coming over the northern mountains, darkening the land below it.
I didn’t mean to get on to this bandwagon today, but after the GOP ‘debates’ last night, my irritation was renewed.
Be strong, stay positive, and lean forward. The coffee is going down nicely. Think I’ll have more. Here’s the music. Cheers
I’d been sitting and writing for almost ninety minutes. The coffee was cold, the mug almost empty.
My rear end requested a break. I agreed that it was a good time to break, so my rear end and the rest of my body went for a walk.
Sunshine flooded the area as I left the coffee shop. Within a minute, heavy rain began descending. My head whipped around in search of a rainbow. None spotted.
A woman was coming up the sidewalk in the opposite direction. Slowing as she reached me, she asked, “Where’s the rainbow? I see sunshine and rain. There’s gotta be one.”
Laughing and nodding, I answered, “I looked and didn’t see one.”
She resumed her previous pace. “Well, there’s gotta be one out there, and I wanna see it.”
The sun bulled its way over the horizon and into Ashlandia’s sky a few ticks before six AM. It’s Tuesday, May 9, 2023, and 45 degrees F out there. Rain deliveries through the past five days have encouraged the town to show off multiple greens. Jade, emerald, pine, leafy, grassy — the greens flourish under the immaculately blue sky. Not promising anything, the weather criers say, but it’ll be in the upper sixties today. The sun’s end time in Ashlandia’s environs will be after eight this evening.
Went walking yesterday, a favorite pastime. Two miles, one and a half of it in steady rain. Lovely. Got home wet with rain and sweat. Lovely. Felt good to be back in the rain and feel the sweat dripping and rolling, plastering my hair under my hat.
I continue scoring on the dream front. Last night brought visits from Sean Penn and Brad Pitt. Woke up chuckling to myself, mumbling, that was a great dream. Then I went through it, writing it all down after I got up, one of three dreams covered in today’s dream journal entry.
The cats are adjusting to the improved weather. So are other cats. Thus there was floof showdown on the front porch. A young gray cat has been showing up around the neighborhood for the last two months. Seems healthy, but just going around doing feline business. They’ve encountered Papi the ginger wonder before, but apparently last night was a surprise for the two and face to face. It’s post event speculation for us. We only know that the floof warnings went off like air-raid sirens for the Battle of Britain. Dashing to the front door, we saw the two. Of course, Tucker, the black and white lord of thunder heard it all and galloped out, too, shouting, “To battle.” Seeing the situation, gray cat departed. Papi pursued but lost the trail. He and Tucker took up stations to ensure they’d be there, should the interloper return.
Today’s music comes from “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel”. We’ve been watching it recently and have plowed into the third season. The song, by the Poppy Family, is “Where Evil Grows” and was put out over fifty years ago. I heard it on the radio a few times back then before it disappeared. But it shows up on television shows and movies once in a while, never on the radio, that I ever hear. Anyway, hearing it enlivened The Neurons, and they plugged it into the morning mental music stream, advertising it as nostalgia. The song’s writer is Terry Jacks, better known for “Which Way You Going, Billy” and “Seasons in the Sun”.
Ah, the train is rolling through, tooting its own horn, ensuring everyone is aware of its royal self as it rumbles through town. Stay pos, keep living the good life and fighting the good fight, wherever it may take you. My efforts are taking me to the coffee. Here’s the tune. Give it a listen. Cheers
When the spinning stopped, we knew we were at a new place. Reality heartbeated in. A short man approached and announced, “I am spring. Welcome to my home. Please, relax, enjoy.”
Sunshine, check. Blue skies, kind of. Flowers – yes, and buds and blossoms, and green coverings on the ground. Warm air? Getting there.
Popping over the horizon with a low snap, the sun said, “I am here, I am here,” at six something-ish. Temperature now is 55 F but the weather clerks are promising low to mid 70s before the sun takes a bows and leaves at seven something-ish PM. Not sure if they really know what’s going on.
It is Monday. The energy drive is stumbling a little this AM. I plied it with some caffeinated black water, an old trick which I picked up from an old man in a far away time. The hoped-for impact was felt after a few minutes. The energy drive soon kicked The Neurons’ asses and they knocked into gear.
The Neurons planted some music bulbs earlier. When they bloomed, I found “I’m Waiting for the Man” by The Velvet Underground coming up in the morning mental music stream. Looking for it online brought up a video of Lou Reed and David Bowie playing it together onstage, wholly apropos as Bowie covered it, too. I like it so I hope you do as well.
Here’s the music. Be pos. Have coffee. Or tea. Beer. Wine. Whatever fits your hour, mood, need. Have a strong Monday. Cheers
While yesterday morning’s dreams upset and depressed me, I found a dream from last night reassuring and energizing. My wife and I were driving in my old Chevy Camaro, a 1968 copper-hued RS with a black vinyl type, black stripes, and a sweet 327.
We were racing down a highway toward a project. The sun was in my eyes, so I constructed a hat with a pole sticking out from it and a small saucer on the end. I’d tilt and turn my head to use the saucer to protect my eyes. Something humorous was written on the saucer and on my hat, subject: beer, but I remember it not. When people read it in the dream, they laughed.
We reached our destination and parked. The project underway involved baking a ton of bread. We were volunteers, working with a local group. Another organization had loaned us their building for the day, a rambling, ramshackle school and industry combo. Built of bricks, following a form follows function straightforward style, inside was a maze of tiled halls and rooms. We found the folks we were working with and began producing bread. It was an odd process of holding small brown balls under a duct until the duct sucked it up. Somewhere/sometime after that, bread was made and delivered elsewhere in the building.
We were put on a break while they checked to see if we’d made our quota of bread. As we stood about and chatted, I spotted smoke coming out of the duct up by the ceiling. I pointed that out, and then flames appeared. A fire extinguisher was brought forward but we were waiting for someone to bring a ladder so we could reach the flames. Meanwhile, the flames were spreading, so I took the fire extinguisher and put out the flames. The guy arrived with the ladder, climbed up and gave it additional precautionary sprays.
We were still waiting for them to tell us we were done but my wife and I were bored and decided to leave. We ran down the halls like children, encountering grade-school children coming in to go to classes. Out into a hot, sunny day, we jumped into the Camaro and took off.
Construction was encountered. Don’t know exactly what was going on, but I kept going at a reduced speed over churned mud. A guy working a machine was met. He would work a little and I would drive a little. I finally reached my turn and pulled off. We were planning to have lunch. Children and cats were running around. I encountered an old teacher of mine. Wearing a red sweater and a skirt, she sat down on a green park bench and invited me to join her. I did, and she started asking me about NFL offensive linemen. I tried changing the subject and then my wife came up and told me we needed to go.
Earth’s shift and clear skies has sunshine booming into the main bedroom. The room is on the northeastern corner, which is to say, the rear. Stunning to wake up to such golden light again. But the shift means that other house bits are darker again. Always adjusting…
It’s Saturday, 3.18.2023. We’re mourning for our friends, who’s beloved Purdue Boilermakers, #1 seed, fell in March Madness’s first round and is eliminated.
It’s 36 degrees F outside but the weather wicca tell us that Ashlandia highs will crest 65 F today. Was mighty fine yesterday, let me tell you. Spring fully ascended in all senses. Today’s sunrise was witnessed at 7:18 AM and the last of the sun in Ashlandia will be seen at 7:21 PM.
The weather pleases the housefloofs. Both are outside harvesting rays and grooming. Tucker’s thick white ruff, like a wondrous garment, shines in the light against his black markings, but Papi’s ginger and cream, marked with orange swirls, are pretty, too.
I have “Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright”, by Bob Dylan, in the morning mental music stream. A dream thing, an editing and writing thing, an admonishment to self, don’t think twice, stop overthinking matters, yo. One of my worst habits. Have a whole catalogue of them. I started with the Peter, Paul, and Mary version. Then, thinking about it, I recalled Willie Nelson singing it, so I went hunting for it. Then I found a live version with Bob D. and Eric C. I decided I’d go with it, so here you are.
Stay positive. The day is full of great possibilities. Got my coffee. Time to go do some things. Stay with it. Here’s the tune. Cheers
Scintillating sunshine sprawls across Ashlandia. I’m out of bed with the thought, must be after eight with all this sunshine. No, it’s seven. That’ll change tomorrow.
I ask Alexa for Ashlandia’s weather. “Thirty-six with fog,” she tells me. “Rain showers throughout the day.” I study the clear blue sky as she finished, “High of 56.” I see no fog anywhere in the valley or the hills and mountains. Machine is smoking something again.
Sunrise was at 6:30 this morning. Sunset will be at 6:13. It’s Saturday, March 11, 2023.
We took a friend shopping yesterday. Macular degeneration stops her from driving herself and her husband is extremely limited with multiple health issues, including COPD. He’s always on O2. Took her to Target, Trader Joe’s, Costco. She tipped us with a nine pack of Charmin from the package bought at Costco.
Also stopped at the latest sensation, Crumbs, a cookie place. Bought a five-dollar gourmet. Good cookie, tasty and quality, but not worth five dollars. Also not the most expensive cookie I’ve ever eaten.
With all that sunshine surrounding them, The Neurons came up with “Sunshine”, a 2021 song from OneRepublic. It’s a bouncy tune about sunshine and good vibes and making efforts to change things and be pos.
[Verse 1] Crazy lately I’m confirmin’ Tryna write myself a sermon You just tryna get a word in, life is not fair I been workin’ on my tunnel vision Tryna get a new prescription Takin’ swings and even missin’ but I don’t care
[Pre-Chorus] I’m dancin’ more just a little bit Breathin’ more just a little bit Care a little less just a little bit Like life is woo-hoo! I’m makin’ more just a littlе bit Spend a little more to gеt rid of it Smile a little more and I’m into it
Michael Seidel, writer 