It’s the fourth day of the year, Jan 4, 2025. Satrda. 38 degrees F. Cloudy. Blue sky has been banished. The meek, subservient sun does little to warm and light us. We’re prepped for another day of rain with a high of 48 F. But, corresponding with my sister in Plum, PA, it’s not bad. They received a few issues of snow yesterday and then dealt with a snow squall. Monday is forecasted to be a heavy and cold snowy day for her. She’s worrying about patients canceling and travel issues. So, rainy and gloomy will suffice.
Today’s music is “Green Tambourine” by the Lemon Pipers. Came out in 1968. I was twelve. The song became a hit and was rotated on all the regular pop stations heard on transistor radios and car radios. With all that exposure, I remember it well. Don’t know why it’s in my morning mental music stream (Trademark old). I slept heavily last night after feeling pretty gloomy yesterday evening. Didn’t have any cat visitations that I know of. No wind or wife disrupted my Zzzs. No need for visiting the bathroom during the night, and nothing amiss with my foot and ankle broke into my sleep. Only one dream floats around my noggin, and tambourines aren’t featured. The song just rose up as I went about opening blinds on another dull day, feeding cats, and making breakfast and coffee.
I enjoyed this video. Such a black and white throwback, including a sexist commercial for ‘Neet’ hair removal cream. Look how young Dick Clark appears. Check out the clothes and dancing. Trippy.
Coffee and I are doing our daily two-step. Hope your weather and fates are kind to you wherever you are. Here’s the music. Cheers
My wife and I were in the car when the ‘Charlie Brown dance music’ came on. This is that lively piano- dominated music supported by a bassist and drummer used in so many Charlie Brown specials. When the music plays, all the Charlie Brown characters develop big smiles and happy feet.
I guess I should backtrack to clarify that I’m talking about the music used for Charlie Brown cartoons. Charlie Brown is a round-headed kid who is part of the Peanuts gang. Peanuts was a syndicated comic strip created by Charles Schultz. It features Linus, a precocious Biblical scholar who believes in the Great Pumpkin and always has his security blanket alongside his sister, Lucy, the psychologist who charges $.05 to dispense advice, who is also known to entice C. Brown to kick the football, only to yank it away at the last minute. There’s also Sally, Charlie Brown’s sister. Athletic Peppermint Patty and her friend, Marcie. Pigpen, who generates and attracts dust and dirt. And Schroeder, who plays the piano and admires Beethoven. That’s just the nucleus of the group. There’s also the world-famous Beagle, Snoopy, who sleeps on his back on top of his dog house and pretends to be fly a Sopwith Camel as a WW I flying ace, and Snoopy’s buddy, the bird called Woodstock.
That’s the nut of it. Going back to the music, when it hit us in the car from the vehicle’s stereo, my wife and I laughed and talked about how evocative it was. Energetic, it wants you to immediately move in response to its beat and imitate the Peanuts gang. I thought the jazzy tune was written by a jazz musician but had no idea who it was. Had to look it up when I got home and learned it was Vince Guaraldi.
The song’s correct title is “Linus and Lucy”. First heard by the public in December of 1964. It’s a cool tune, Charlie Brown.
November 20, 2024, finds us on a Wednesday. Gray and white clouds plaster the sky. 38 F and rainy out there. High will be four degrees north.
Winds are smacking the trees around. Tall conifers take the worse, swinging back from each punch, drunkenly rebounding. Began yesterday afternoon. By dusk, the wind was crooning around windows and corners. Then came sounds of winds running like tractor-trailers down the Interstate.
8:10 PM, blink, out went the power. People reported a bang. Others saw a large blue flash. Investigating crews found a surrendering tree had taken on a major power line.
My wife and I were in the snug when it happened. We turned off our computers. I moved through the familiar dark house, phone in hand in case I needed a light, to get a flashlight in a cubby by the foyer. Armed with it, I fired up the gas fireplace. We dug out candles and lit them, and several more flashlights, then checked messages and learned the tale of the outage via emergency texts.
Unknowing of how long the outage would be, my wife bathed by candlelit. The bath water was saved in case it got worse and flushing water was needed. Then she dragged out the Trivial Pursuit cards. We spent thirty minutes answering those, then we each armed ourselves with a flashlight and read. Fortunately, the gas fireplace kept us relatively comfy at 68 F.
Texts sent at 8:55 PM informed us the power would be back up within two hours. 10:35 PM, and the house beeped, chirped, and lit up as the power was restored. We learned we were the fortunate; a small section didn’t get their electricity back until this morning. Hope they all endured the night well.
Papi the ginger blade did not like this storm. Comfort couldn’t find him with all the noise. He finally decided outside, in his patio condo, was his safe space, staying there until just after midnight. About that time, the wind reset to a calmer level but rain poured out of the darkness. Papi came in to escape the wet, staying until sixish. Duty as patrol floof called then. Tail up, he bravely marched out.
Locally, I don’t spy damage on my street. Snow resides on pines and firs on the upper ranges. News reports are in that they’d closed the pass for snow on I5 from our southern exit to the California border.
Without revealing their reasoning, The Neurons invested the morning mental music stream (Trademark damp) with “Folsom Prison Blues”. Johnny Cash wrote the song, then recorded and released it n 1955. That was a year before my birth. It’s literally — and I ain’t talkin’ hyperbole here — been around my entire life. And I heard it. Mom had JC albums, so it was on there. Television liked Cash, and he showed up singing the tune on the small screen. Featured in movies, the rockabilly tune was heard on AM radio in cars and houses.
The Neurons may have pulled this up in response to a dream. I had a caper dream. Working with two other guys, we were stealing something but we’d been forced into it. They were setting me up, I found, so worked to subvert their plans. At the end, after all successfully passed and I was leaving, I found that one of the others knew of my plans and used them to save himself, in effect aiding me as he did. Fun dream.
Alright, let’s muster some positive energy. Coffee is in mug, ready to wash down my negativity. Here we go. Cheers
Another splash of autumn covers the day, this day being Friday, October 4, 2024. Skies, trees, sun, etc. Coolish warming air grazing around 61 F. Expectations that we’ll kiss upper seventies today, a few nicks down from the mid 80s felt yesterday. Tomorrow, we’re back into the eighties, riding the seesaw of seasonal change.
The cats traverse the doors in and out, liking the outdoors in sun patches, bundling themselves into loaves, moving when the sun shies away from their chosen skim of earth. Chess with sunshine, they think themselves kings, bishops at least, but the sun treats them like pawns.
The Neurons are wandering my mind’s corridors, apparently. They dust off a 1968 song and start playing it in the morning mental music stream (Trademark ancient). As breakfast makes its trip to the stomach’s acids, I question The Neurons about why this and now? This is Cream doing “Anyone for Tennis.” Now is today, 2024, a zillion plus one years removed from when I was a boy and saw them on television. Cream were on the Smothers Brothers Show and did this show. I found the video to it on Youtube. Their clothing snatches back reminders of the purple and blue paisley shirts and denim bell bottoms worn by moi in those days. Later, in my high school years, the bell bottoms would remain but the shirts would become simpler designs and colors. The hair was always long, thick, wild and curly, exasperating my divorced parents, amusing my sisters and aunts and uncles, and sometimes entrancing a girl.
Done with the mornin’ memory portion of the day unless The Neurons pull more out. They may at any given. Stay positive, test negative, be strong, and vote blue. Coffee has had its way with me. Here’s the music. Onward. Cheers
Sunday came in with little sunshine, but it’s been creeping taller, brighter, warmer through a sluggish morning. Its September 15, 2024 and about 61 degrees F. That’s about three off from an anticipated high of 64 F. Rain, thunderstorms, and sunshine will be trading places throughout the day. It’s aggravating our tentative plans to go to the Japanese Gardens for an organized moon watching thingy about 7:30 this evening. Like, will it be raining? Or too much cloud cover to take in the moon? Can’t decide now. It’ll be an event time decision.
I’ve been watching and enjoying Slow Horses on Apple TV. Based on a series of novels by Mick Herron, the series is about Slough House and MI5 rejects exiled to deadend jobs for various failures and character flaws. I’d watched the first two seasons about a year ago but decided to watch them again and then go on with two more seasons. The show is rich with characters. Gary Oldman plays a terrific character, Jackson Lamb, a cynical, obnoxious, and brooding burned-out spy. He drinks, he smokes, he eats poorly, and he insults. By the third season, everyone is telling him that he stinks.
Our other main individual is River Cartwright, an impulsive spy who wants to be a hero but often sabotages himself with his behavior and thinking. Ironically, he starts out looking suave as a spy and slowly shifts until he begins to resemble Lamb. My favorite, though, is Louisa Guy, played by Rosalind Eleazar. Her depths, grief, and stoicism intrigue me, and I want to know more about her. She’s not infrequently a surprising hero.
Besides them, we have Kristin Scott-Thomas playing Diana Taverner, the poised, intelligent, and mildly amused organization climber. Her main frustration is often brought on by Lamb and his Slough House exiles.
My wife has become sucked into it. She told me yesterday that she read that Slow Horses is currently the most popular show on television or something like that. I think it’s deserving of that. I’ve finished three seasons and I’m ready for season four. As I often do when I find a television or movies series which I enjoy, I plan to read the novels.
Today’s music is “Walk Away” by Kelly Clarkson. It’s playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark charred) because of a floof incident, also known as a floofcident. Papi, the ginger blade, rounded a corner and encountered Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah), the aging black and white bruiser. Some lowly muttered threats emerged over this apparent transgression. Having witnessed the entire event, I’m not sure how their pride or territory was affected. Maybe it’s spillover from some previous encounter. Or it could be moods exacerbated by the changing weather. Who knows with floofs? Hard to read as husbands.
So, watching the incident, I said, “It’s okay, boys, there’s no reason to fight, just walk away, Papi.” The Neurons heard that and it was mental clickbait to call up the 2006 song out of the memory channels and put it in the morning stream.
Be strong, stay positive, and vote blue in 2024. Here’s the music video. Coffee and I are doing our tango. Cheers
Caught a commercial on TV. About a doctor and her doctor peers, I guess, and their work in a hospital, and their personal lives and romances. As the female doctor kisses a man, a female voiceover says, “The Universe has a way of making sure we’re where we need to be.”
Well, I call bullshit on that. Bullshit because so many people, including children, live in poverty and food insecurity. Some work several jobs. Some deal with personal darkness or physical, emotional, or menal handicaps. Bullshit for the women denied their choice in America and suffer fear and pain because others decide how they should live and strip control away from them. Bullshit for the people around the world with trying to understand themselves and their minds and bodies — I’m speaking about people who don’t neatly align with a binary world — being denied assistance and support.
What about those innocents in war zones? That where the Universe needs to be as the bombs rip up their lives and kill their families. Naw, I’m calling bullshit on that, too. That’s just the tip of a 2024 existence.
I’m happy that some people wherever around the world finds a happy medium where they are and where the Universe has delivered that gives them a safe and happy life. But I think for most, we live lives where we’re scrambling or helping others scrambling to survive.
Man, television and Hollywood can be full of such bullshit. Yeah, that was a young elderly white American middle-class rant. Just needed to expell it from my system.
It’s a late start again for me as far as writing and posting go. Friends are in town and we met for a big coffee gathering. See, there’s a tradition established around a M-W-F exercise class. It engages at 8:30 AM. Finishes at 9:30. Then a group goes off for coffee. The female side of the visiting friends was part of this coffee klatch, so she did the class and then all joined for coffee. Several husbands and I, who are a normal part of the gathering, joined the gathering to see our friends and socialize. The visitors lived here in Ashlandia, then moved to Portland, and now are in the process of moving to Spain. That last isn’t an easy process but they’ve been going every year during the last three and are committed to making the move.
The winter storm they’ve been warning us about slammed into the valley. For a while, we hung at 34 F as snow charged down and clung to the Earth, building its base. Warmer air crowded in. Snow became rain and melted all the snow at our elevation. Bright sunshine now smothers the valley, and the temperature is working close to the expected high of 48 F. Friendly white clouds are driving in a blue sky.
My morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks) has been like a radio station. A sample of today’s music heard in me head:
“Our Day Will Come” – Ruby and the Romantics, 1963
“Little Red Corvette” – Prince, 1983
“Turn the Page” – Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band, 1973
“The Luck You Got” – The High Strung, 2005
“I’m Alright” – Kenny Loggins, 1980
“Our Day Will Come” seemed like a dream remnant. The Neurons plugged in “Little Red Corvette” because I’d seen a red Corvette the day before, a 1984 one, like Dad’s, except Dad’s was Navy blue. “Turn the Page” is a natural arising from on month’s ending and another month’s start. “I’m Alright” was cranked into the stream after I completed my daily self-assessment, done after walking around, seeing if anything is misaligned, malfunctioning, or gone, as far as my body and mind goes. Another two or three songs were featured in the MMMS but I went with “The Luck You Got” by The High Strung because it demonstrated the strongest presence.
I learned about The High Strung from an episode of This American Life I was listening to while driving one day and then sought their music on the net. Of course, I did hear “The Luck You Got” not too long ago when my wife and I checked out the US version of “Shameless”. We’d watched the Brit version back in the day and were leery of what an American version would be like. When I heard the theme music I thought, hold it, I know this song. Weirdly, just as I began looking it up, I fully remembered it.
Be strong, lean forward, vote, and remain positive. Fortified with coffee, I’m right there with you. Seize the Friday. Here’s the music. Cheers
The net can be a dizzying roller coaster. Bad news headlines, followed by humor on a friend’s blog, then disastrous breaking news, chased by sweet floof photos, which give way to dire predictions, trailed by fascinating new scientific or historic findings, war and political updates, and book reviews.
I ride throughout the day, breaking off to soothe myself with my personal writing, and then releasing all the pent tension with a relaxing game or two (or four). You know, Wordle. Spelling Bee. Sudoku.
How different from my youth. We watched television together in the family room — ‘in color’ — so it was a consensus choice. Five channels were available: PBS, the big three, and one UHF channel that washed in and out on a sea of static. Sitcoms (“Green Acres”), dramas (“Gunsmoke) and thrillers (“The Man From U.N.C.L.E.”) entertained us, or the Movie of the Week, delivering Psycho, Seven Days in May, and The Sound of Music, among a plethora of others.
Then I consider how different my mother’s childhood was. She was a little girl in Turin, Iowa, during the Depression and World War II, eating popcorn and listening to a radio with her family, or going to the hardware store to watch “I Love Lucy” on the only television in their small town.
Reaching further back, I struggle with visualizing how it was in my grandfather’s youth. He helped establish Turin a few decades before Mom was born. Guess I’ll surf the net about it and see what I find.
Once on the roller coaster, getting off it isn’t easy.
We travelers through time and space have landed on Monday. It’s May 1, 2023. As we expected. As ‘they’ planned it. Not sure if ‘they’ are Gods, Fates, machines, or some alien life form.
It’s cold today here. Our warm spell of sprummer has petered out. The autosystem has switched us to spring mode. 47 F now, the weather predictors tell us look for clouds. Check, got clouds. Ain’t no sunshine out there. High in the mid sixties Fahrenheit, and rain. We’ll wait and see, but they seem to have it right.
Finally got the new cable modem activated today. Called them up, read customer care the MAC and then waited for the cycle.
We live in the small town of Ashlandia in southern Oregon and use the local Internet provider. Town owns it and we’re trying to support the town. That means the minor sacrifice of not having a 24/7 response team. Shrug. How it goes. We went old school for the weekend, well, quasi old school, sneaking off to find public nets and use them to check email, post, catch up on news and games, lol. We also read, cleaned house, talked, and – gasp – watched over-the-air television.
Watching television was a hoot. We’ve been streaming over a decade. Turn on local channels for weather and local news, which is thinly and poorly reported. Just not enough money in it for the traditional local TV revenue stream. Change, right? There are whole channels dedicated to television shows from the day of yore. There’s a block of ‘war’ shows – Rat Patrol, Twelve O’Clock High, Black Sheep, Combat, etc. Another block is about westerns with Gunsmoke, Have Gun Will Travel, The Bounty Hunter, Wagon Train. It’s a true hoot visiting these blocks. Sometimes I wince at what I used to watch. Production values have improved, but they entertained me when I was young. Naturally, we also watched an episode of the original Star Trek.
For music, I have “Take it to the Limit” by the Eagles from 1975 in the morning mental music stream. The Neurons put it in the morning mental music stream while I was hustled through the house for the bathroom this morning. I don’t want to connect any dots there, though.
I’ve had coffee and brekkie. Getting ready to head to the coffee shop and begin round four of editing and revising The Light of Memories. You have a good one and try to stay pos. I’ll do the same. Here’s the Eagles.
They were watching a television show. A body landed on the cement behind an FBI agent. The agent was on a cell. The landing body thudded. She flinched and looked back.
His wife said, “That’s not believable. She didn’t even duck.”
“That’s a choice the creative team makes as part of the storytelling. How does the character react to something like that? Are they calm and unfazed or do they freak? That’s part of the show’s tenure and the series’ atmosphere. I make decisions like that all the time when I’m writing, trying to decide how someone reacts and keep them true to the story and character.”