Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
We use ‘mink’ blankets on our beds for warmth during the winter. These are fuzzy polyester creations. One is royal blue; the other a bland beige. Cats usually love them, going into kneading, purring — and sometimes drooling — ecstasy. Thing abut these two blankets is that my wife and I bought them in Korea in 1983. $20 each. Forty-two years old, the blankets remain in excellent condition.
I think that they remain one of the best buys of our lifetime.
I worked on a jigsaw puzzle throughout December of 2024. I started it towards the month’s start but don’t recall the exact date. Finished it last night. Sorry the photo is miserable.
I knew it’d be a challenging one. The stones, flowers, boats, and the myriad of background pieces would make it so. But I loved the scene. Reminding me of a few places I’ve been to, it invited me in.
I followed the regular routine. Edges first. Then I divided the tiles between sky, sea, boats, background houses, blue door, dark green shutters, cafe, plaza stone, bicycle. The pieces were put into baggies. I’d pour out pieces for the focal point I was working on and do that area. I started with the plaza but it frustrated me with its shadows and interlocking browns, rusts, etc. As it didn’t come together, I pivoted to the blue door and then the bike.
One major encumbrance to working on the puzzle is that there wasn’t a good photo of the completed scene. The scene’s bottom was cut off on the puzzle box front, and the birds were almost completely covered. While four views were offered, the other three were tiny. I looked the puzzle up online to get a good sense of everything after the first two days.
Between this one and puzzles done with friends, I worked on four jigsaw puzzles in December.
It was worth doing, and satisfying to complete. It’s still a place I’d like to visit. Have a little light lunch and glass of wine or cup of coffee and read a book, intermittently chatting with my companion as the water does its thing in the background…
Mood: Timeflective
G’ mornin’, peeps of the online written word. It’s 2024’s final Monday, December 20, 2024. To celebrate, my other and I will go out for brekkie after she returns from her exercise class. Then we’ll do some groc shopping. Breakfast will be had at Crackin & Stackin in downtown Medford, I think.
It’s 33 F outside. Sunshine and clouds war again. Blue sky wins as the sun prevails. The ground is wet but drying for the moment after a few days of rain on a heavier scale and flooding in other parts of the county. No rain is forecast for the next two days. Today’s high will be 43 F.
I experienced vigorous, positive dreams last night and that’s put me in a solidly upbeat mood. Seeing sunshine reinforced it. Also contributing is that my foot/ankle are happier, and I had a lengthy solid if interesting writing outing yesterday.
Spoke with Mom on the phone last night. Says she’s feelin’ tired. Not surprising. Holidays always sap. Like many, it pushes her out of her comfortable returns. Now at 89, with several major health issues as part of her history, her energy is low, and every day is a new exploration of something in her body contending for attention. Her other, Frank, is doing great, she said. He’ll be 95 next month.
However, one of my younger sisters now has the flu. She is the Trumper who has had COVID three times. Believe she vaccinated before but she reportedly has underlying lung issues. She won’t tell anyone deets so we rumble about what it is. Her husband, a year younger than moi, went through open heart surgery a few years ago and is now dealing with kidney stones.
One of my other younger sister’s boyfriend lost his brother. But 66 years old, the man had a stroke and then a heart attack. Home alone while his wife was away visiting family in another state for the holidays, he was found on the kitchen floor after a day. Rushed to the hospital, he was pronounced dead and was removed from life support. He passed away yesterday morning.
Meanwhile, the boyfriend himself went into the hospital Friday for some scans after he complained about feeling ill and not breathing right. Turns out that he was experiencing congestive heart failure a 56 years old, astonishing us all. He’s 56 and is a regular runner. Those who saw him on Christmas thought he looked healthy and fit. It’s the way of life, I guess.
All that news and subsequent thinking gave permissions to The Neurons to introduce Joni Mitchell into the morning mental music stream (Trademark aging) with “The Circle Game”. A simple song, very poetic.
Coffee downed, here we go, putting another Monday into the books. Have the best you can, right? Don’t know how the next day will change your expectations.
Here’s the music. Cheers
There’s been a weather shift. From nowhere predictable (or, shall we say, it wasn’t predicted), sunshine and blue sky burst in on Ashlandia. Clouds flee like birds chased off by a cat.
Woo hoo, sunshine! Its warmth pushes the digits to 56 F. 56! I stand in a blaze, face up, sucking in fresh air and imagining sunblessed vitamin D pouring into me. Although…
The sun is the sun, even if it’s winter, almost solstice. I used moisterizer on my face. (Excuse me, I’m not a barbarian.) But does that moisterizer have any SPF rating?
Unable to recall my moisterizer’s nuances and protection, I hasten out of the sun.
This is modern life.
I laughed in amazement when I read that Muslim Arabs were endorsing and voting for Trump. Really? Muslim Arabs thought he was the man for them after his 2017 Muslim ban? I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe their choice.
Voter remorse is now spreading among their people as they’ve realized what they’ve done.
Muslims for Trump co-founder Rabiul Chowdhury tells “Dan Abrams Live” the nominations are concerning for his Muslim supporters who expected an “America First” approach rather than one focused on Israel.
“Some of his picks, like Marco Rubio, in our opinion, did not align with his America First and his vision of peace,” Chowdhury explained, telling NewsNation they would rather see Richard Grenell in the Cabinet.
They’re awakening to the fact that Trump conned them. They could have avoided this disappointment if they were paying attention and thinking. But they wanted to punish the Harris and the Democrats, they said.
Yes, I know. The War. Israel. I understand that. But they seriously believed Trump would do something about it? I guess, angry and frustrated, they were blindly hopeful that he would.
I’m sure that this small trickle of people waking up about who they voted into office will soon grow.
If I were religious or ascribed to a diety, I’d say that they might be pissed after Trump’s Micky D Sunday stunt. First there was an E. Coli Outbreak, forcing them to pull quarter pounders. Next came some crashing stock.
All started with Trump’s appearance there. Just sayin’. Also, as others noted, while Trump wore an apron, he didn’t have the rest of the required gear, like hairnets. Just sayin’.
Of course, under the Trump administration and Project 2025’s goal to reduce regulations, this sort of things might happen more often. Just sayin’.
Vote blue.
The signs of aging pile up,
Promising on some days to beat you up.
Hair losses, hair changes, where the hell does it go?
Why can’t I get it to look right, why won’t it look just so?
Sometimes you ponder the person you had been.
You think you see them staring back, hiding from within.
Other times you wonder, if you ever were that way?
And if you were, what can you do to look that way again?
The weight you gain, how the body thickens,
Everything sinks and sags and generally looks in ways that sicken.
Then someone tells you how great you look,
and you wonder, is that a joke?
If you think I look good today, you want to say,
you should have seen me back in the day.
I was something else.
Back in the day…
Such a broad, specific expression. Back in the day for me is specific to a time period for me and others of my age, but when you’re a different age, well, back in the day is a different time.
Quick sidebar: while the youngest generations take up the expression, or will back in the day fade away?
Well, back in the day, it was easy to keep up on the news. Read a newspaper, turn on one of the big three network’s nightly news offering, and watch the local news.
Complications arose with the information age explosion and the digital age tsunami. Suddenly, I’m clicking on a story and there’s ten thousand variations on it. What was said, who said it, and what does it mean? You click and read and click, chasing the crumbs to learn what’s right.
Tough work these days, keeping up on truth and facts, and dodging lies and misinformation.
I found myself thinking about my parents as I dressed this morning. One is from Iowa and resides in Pennsylvania. The other is from Pennsylvania and lives in Texas. They divorced way back in the mid 1960s. Were friends or friendly off and on. Now Mom is bitter and angry about Dad; Dad is reflective about Mom.
I left their homes when I was 17. I’ve visited both as they moved around, remarried, and raised other families. As they’ve aged, Dad tells me he’d like to be closer to me. Mom tells me she’d like to hear from me more often because she worries about me.
But a large elephant marches through their desires. I’ve been married 49 years. Mom visited me once, when I bought her an airline ticket and forced it to happen. Dad visited me once in my first year of marriage, dropping by with my father-in-law for thirty minutes while they happened to be in the area. It just didn’t seem like they were deeply invested in being part of my life.
I don’t feel abandoned by them. Dad admits he wasn’t a good father and wasn’t there. Mom insists she was there as much as she could be. I do see their sides but I’m indifferent to Dad’s efforts for us to be closer or to Mom’s request for me to alleviate worries. I could employ simple sophistry and claim, they made me who I am, but really, I head little from them across my decades of living. Sure, they always sent birthday and holiday cards, but mostly there were months of silence. Yes, I know they each raised other children and went on through a few more marriages.
I get all of that. My feelings about them slice along a spectrum. I love them as they love me, from a distance. I know they made sacrifices on my behalf to ensure I had food and shelter security and a place to call home. But at an early age, as I watched their fights and listened to their arguments, I made a decision to be independent of them. Sure, there are days when I surf the spectrum of our relationships when I want to help them out of guilt or empathy. They become less as I move through my life, age, and deal with my own issues.
My parents both have been supportive in many ways. They tell me they’re proud of me. My wife points out that it all would’ve probably been different if she and I had children.
But we didn’t, and this is where my parents and I stand, like many other parents and their offspring, at a complex crossroads which we never leave.
Michael Seidel, writer 