Tag: travel

Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: Smoothsailin

Tuesday, November 26, 2024. Few days until Thanksgiving in America, or as as my wife and I celebrate it, Friendsgiving. We head out to a friend’s farm house a few miles down the road and meet up with others. Everyone brings a dish or two. Good food, good drink, and good times are all enjoyed.

We’re chilling at 39 F under a tumultuous sky. The elements up there are in discord. Looks like it might rain, snow, or get blue sky and sunny on us. Gonna get up to a steamy hot 41 F.

Watched some national weather on TV this morning. I lived in Pennsylvania, Ohio, West Virginia, and South Carolina for a while at different times as an adult. My wife and I typically jumped in the car and drove ‘home’ to our parents’ places for the holidays, if I had the time off. We’re talking the 1970s through the late 1980s. Back then, it was basically pack the car up, tank up, and take off. Sometimes we’d hit blizzards, a few times we encountered torrential rains, and once in a while, we encountered construction. We always enjoyed the trips. In the early years, we had an AM car radio and that was it. Losing stations, we’d just turn it off and talk. We still do the same on our road trips through Oregon. Now, though, we’re rich with music and entertainment options. We still often talk. Old habits.

My wife baked brownies for our dessert last night. Filled the house with a wonderful chocolate smell. We both said several times, “The house smells so good.” LOL. Love the smell of baked goods. Bread, pies, cookies, pizzas…

The records show that we let Papi the ginger blade in and out nine times yesterday. That seems light. We suspect he overheard our plan and cut back on his requests to game the numbers. I’ve started calling him my little In ‘n Out burger.

Did something to my surgerically repaired hoof in my sleep. Awoke to the realization that I was loudly groaning. Foot hurt like hell. Could barely walk on it. No idea what took place but it may have been caused by a swimming dream. The sound I made deeply concerned Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah), my black and white big cat. (He’s not actually that large but looks big, a deception brought on by a big head, paws, and tail.) I found him intensely studying me with his ears back when I awoke. The pain has mostly abated. All part of the recovery process.

With thoughts about road trips and driving, it’s with little surprise that The Neurons brought travel music into the morning mental music stream (Trademark skipping). Red Hot Chili Peppers released Californication in 2000. The song, “Road Trippin'” was included. RHCP’s album on CD was part of my rotation during part of that period. We lived in California then and were exploring the state. It’s a big state, and we had many excellent road trips, visiting cities and landmarks, taking visitors around, etc.

Had a good bitter laugh over Trump’s tariff plans. China, Mexico, Canada. That’ll hit home construction, food prices (and restaurants!), automobile manufacturing, and computers, phones, and electronics. Talk about inflation. But Trump and his cronies and supporters believe that the other countries and the manufacturing/production sources will bear the burden. Trump et al say they’re doing this to stop drug trafficking. Yeah.

Here’s the music. Excuse me while I dash off for a brownie. A few remain. They pair well with coffee. And away we go.

Cheers

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Thursday’s Wandering News

Ashlandia is getting talked up as a place to be in 2024.

First, we had the surprise announcement in August of this year that Ashland is a top-10 town for bicyclist.

“No. 5 ranking in Outdoor magazine could bring in more tourists, outdoor recreators.”

“With a People for Bikes rating of 70 out of 100, League of American Bicyclists gold status and 86 trails dedicated to bikes, Ashland was ranked no. 5 of the top 10 bike cities across the country. A ranking such as this has the potential to bring in more tourists.” h/t Ashland.news

It mildly astonished most of us who live here, but the next news was miiinnnd blowing. Architectural Digest announced its list of “The 13 Most Beautiful Underrated Cities in the World” in the middle of this month. Yes, following the limp foreshadowing, Ashland, Oregon, is included on the list.

Ashland, Oregon

Part of the 2018 edition of The New York Times’ “52 Places to Travel,” Ashland is located in the Rogue River area of Southern Oregon. Like much of the Pacific Northwest, the region is celebrated for its natural beauty, which includes Lithia Park and North Mountain Park defined by leafy vegetation and beautiful waterways. Home to Southern Oregon University, the college town is also know for the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, a local repertory theater that offers a myriad of performances not limited to just The Bard.

Those two pieces are enough to send other places into extreme city envy. But wait, there’s more!

America’s Coziest College Town Is In Oregon

Yes, TheTravel.com also announced this month, September, 2024, that Ashlandia is the United States’s coziest college town.

“This Oregon town features everything a college town should; cozy bookstores, coffee shops, and bars, quaint art galleries, museums, and scenic trails.”

It’s funny to see that written about our town. Hate badmouthing it…buuuutttt…

Our numbers of bookstores and coffee shops have fallen and fallen. We used to have over a dozen coffee shops, along with several excellent bakeries. Those have closed, replaced by vintage stores and retail businesses. Sure, we still have four bookstores but it’s a fall from the half dozen at our disposal in the last decade.

I suspect a PR firm was given some cash to go out and get us on these lists.

I guess we should be proud of our town but I can’t forget when it seemed like a better place.

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: Precipitized

Autumn was hulking against the house by the back door, sometimes gently tapping to come in. I opened the door. A lush gush waltzed in and danced around the room.

I’ve decided that I like autumn better than summer and winter. Winter and summer are fickle about their temperatures and weather offerings. Autumn seems more relaxed and straightforward about it. Yes, warm days will come, with some soaring temperatures which somehow complements a view of autumnal foliage against a blue sky. Mostly, though, memories of autumn has me anticipated a level stream of gently declining temperatures as tree shed their leaves and winter begins gracing us.

It’s Wednesday, 9/11/2024. A moment to remember that morning, seared into so many of our brains, sharp-edged memories formed as our daily routines were put on hold and we watched our televisions.

It’s 55 F at my house. My wife was up early to get ready for her exercise class. She told me after I got up that she came in and whispered to me, “It’s raining,” but I was deeply asleep and did not hear.

A little later, Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah), shouted, “It’s raining and I’m hungry and get up and feed me.” Which I did.

Ah, rain. Small drops, lighty falling, wetting everything, and releasing gases that waft up to us and awakens rain memories. The smell is so rich.

Our air is so clear and fresh this morning. Purple has the readings around me in single digits. Airnow.gov has us at 25.

Today’s high will be in the upper sixties.

I’m looking forward to having something done about my injured foot. Although I wear my brace when I’m out and about, strange complaints and sharp pains will jump out. “Hey, don’t bend me that way,” it yells. “Watch where you’re stepping. You want pain, I’ll give you pain.” I know, it’s a very small thing to endure compare to what many others suffer. I’m just a whiner.

I’m not going to comment much on the debate last night. I will say that my personal confidence and hope that Kamala Harris becomes POTUS number 47 pole-vaulted into new levels.

With the debate and the rain and season shift, The Neurons have plugged a Steve Perry song into the morning mental music stream (Trademark gone). “Oh Sherrie” was released in 1984. I don’t know why it’s in my head this morning. I can’t trace a relationship to anything that I thought, did, or dreamed. It’s just there as I walked into the office, coffee cup in hand, swallowing the last of a fig, and gazed out the window at the green mountains, flat gray sky, and cautiously falling rain. The Neurons work in mysterious ways.

Stay positive, be strong, and vote blue in 2024. Coffee is half gone. Here’s the music video — Steve Perry with Journey playing his hit single. Cheers

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Friday’s Them Music

Mood: roadweary

We left our vacation house on the coast this morning at 10:30. It was 58 F. When the sky saw we were leaving, it started crying.

We headed north from Waldport to Lincoln City because we wanted to do something stuff up there. And while we were there, the sky’s crying launched into heavy bawling. And that wet stuff kept coming down. We head east to Oregon’s capitol, Salem. The rain came down. We headed south. The rain went with us.

Well, we told each other, this cool air and heavy rain will help with the fires. Let’s hope California is getting some of this precipitation.

We slammed to a halt just south of Coburg, then inched forward for thirty-five minutes. Finally, we arrived at an accident site. Clean up was in progress. We didn’t know anything about injuries but three cars and a truck were involved. I tried learning more via a search of the net. Ridiculous results ensured. One AI reported a recent accident on I5 southbound by Coburg happened, but that was three years ago. Google’s reporting showed me accidents for up to one day ago, along with accidents from Feb. and April Not fucking useful.

Any way, we the route, weather and traffic delays, we were on the road nine hours and I’m a little road weary. Funny, though: when we arrived here at home, it hadn’t rain. Light spit was falling. We asked Alexa about this, but she can’t answer questions like that. She’s too limited.

Going right into the music, I’m staying with the theme of songs with colors in the title. The Neurons pulled out “Raspberry Beret”, a 1985 song by Prince, and popped that into the morning mental music stream (Trademark wet).

As always, it’s good to be home. My cats greeted us with purrs and rubs before demanding makeup food. It was lovely being in cool coastal weather with a restless Pacific at hand. That reminded us of our Half Moon Bay life. I still miss that. We made the right decision to move away from there.

In fine symmetry, it was 58 F here in Ashlandia at our 7:30 PM arrival. Rain is expected tonight. It’ll be 69 F as tomorrow’s high, a weirdly low temperature for an Ashlandia August.

Well, coffee was consumed, and here I sit. Stay positive. Ride the wave of positive and joyous Harris – Walz energy. Vote blue. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Not Old News

When ‘Chaos = Profit’

Journalists and the media seem to have concluded that Trump has lied so much that they no longer report it. Continuing to make insane claims, such as in this instance, about electric boats being too heavy to float and getting electrocuted if they sink, they’re also shrugging. Yet they relentlessly go on about President Biden’s age.

This is from the Robert Reich July 8, 2024 column that I’m sharing from Jill Dennison’s post.

“So I said, ‘Let me ask you a question,’ and [the South Carolinian] said, ‘Nobody ever asked this question,’ and it must be because of MIT, my relationship to MIT — very smart. He goes, I say, ‘What would happen if the boat sank from its weight? And you’re in the boat and you have this tremendously powerful battery and the battery is now underwater and there’s a shark that’s approximately 10 yards over there?’

This story and its absolutely bonkers points should be all over the news every day. This is the individual the GOP is supporting for the powerful position of President of the United States.

Donald Trump is claiming an electric boat would be so heavy it would sink. Really? Really?? Really???

So, that electric boat would be heavier than all those cruise ships out there? You’re probably seen the ads for these floating cities lit up with electricity at night. These electric boats will be heavier than battleships, cruisers, destroyers, and aircraft carriers? They all float, don’t they?

The largest aircraft carrier in the U.S. Navy is the USS Nimitz. It weighs over 100,000 long tons. It typically carries 64 full-sized aircraft on it and has a crew of 5,000. Yet, it doesn’t sink. It floats. Moreover, it has a nuclear powerplant and nobody is getting electrocuted.

Yes, the story was briefly covered, mocked, really, in the USA Today, NewsWeek, MSNBC, Washington Post and other outlets. But, come on, man, think about what Donald Trump was asking and claiming. Think about the fact that millions are promoting as the next POTUS.

IMO, Donald J. Trump shouldn’t be anywhere near an important office where decisions are made regarding the welfare of the nation. That the GOP fully supports this man who wonders about getting electrocuted by an electric boat says boatloads about what they are as a political organization.

That more media attention is being paid to President Biden’s age over Donald Trump’s remarks pretty well indicts our media as pretty damn useless when it comes to this election. As Jill put it, they’re failing miserably.

And then the media wonders why their readership keeps dropping.

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood: spacey

The numbers are in for today, Sunday, June 9 2024. 55, 65, 83, our low, current, and expected high for Ashlandia, all in F. The numbers show that our sprummer run remains intact.

My cats are doing well. Still lovin’ sprummer. Tucker has been reborn. But that encourages him to think he’s a young ‘un. Now he wants to spend all his time outdoors. “No,” I tell him. “You’re an elderly housefloof. You’re better off indoors.”

“YOOOWWWLLLL!” he shouts back. “YOOOWWWLLLL. MeeeOWWWLLLL.” He’ll do this until my wife or I leap up and open the door, telling Tucker, “Fine, go get eaten by a cougar but don’t complain to us when it happens. We tried to tell you but you won’t listen.”

Tucker usuallly replies with a haughty, “Murpf.” Everyone owned by a cat knows what murpf means.

It’s National Donald Duck Day FYI. I’m not celebrating it, myself. I’m sure it’s a big deal to someone on this world.

No, I’m celebrating Space Appreciation Day. This is not the same as National Space Day, celebrated in May. Space Appreciation Day is not about the region beyond Earth’s atmosphere or all that ‘out there’ in the dark, starry night.

Space Appreciation Day is about private space. Leg room and elbow room during air travel or in movie theaters. Or room in bed to turn over without leaving the mattress. That’s what Space Appreciation Day, often shortened to SAD, is all about.

Take, for example, writing at the coffee shop. SAD comes into its own there. I don’t want to hear others’ phone calls. First, I’m usually only hearing one side of it, forcing me to provide the other end. Like:

“It’s scheduled for tomorrow afternoon,” I hear in the coffee shop. Which I fill in to mean, the contract killer is making the hit.

Nor do I want to be a close party to others’ sneezes. Likewise, I don’t want to share my sneezes with others because I see the accusing, wary looks they use afterward. (“What does THAT guy have? He looks like he migh be dying. Maybe I should leave or mask up.”) Ideally, I’ll have a radius of twelve feet between me and anyone else in the coffee shop. And that’s what I pray for when I dance and make sacrifices to the Gods of Space on SAD.

The Neurons wanted to play along but when I thought about space and the distance between me and other objects, they came back with the realm outside of planets’ atmospheres. So I ended up with Muse singing “Starlight” from 2006 in the morning mental music stream (Trademark out there).

Be strong and positive, and enjoy your SAD, however you decide to celebrate it. Vote Blue 2024. I’ve begun the coffee ingestion process, and we have lift off. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Mood: Coffbulant

June has pounced. Hope you weren’t too surprised.

It’s Saturday, June 1, 2024. The year is plowing into its second half. Probably will be as fucked up as the first half, perhaps more. The board has been set for that.

I’m back home, where I’m happy to be, although I was living a good life back in Penn Hills, visiting with family and enjoying Mom’s company. I can tell you about the long day of travel to reach home but I made it unscathed. Although it’s much better than taken wagon across the nation or driving backroads in something like a Ford Model T, this mess of late arrivals and departures, full flights, and constant jockeying for a place in an aircraft feels like the new norm. Airports must be thrilled; bet business is up at all those airport restaurants, and that’s probably good for the restaurant. Airlines are probably indifferent: the bottom line is financial and not customer satisfaction.

It’s a pleasant 79 F here in Ashlandia, where the ground is dry and the greenery is browning.  Left the house Thursday at 5:30 AM back in Penn Hills, got home Friday at about 1. Been playing catch up since. That’s what you do when you return from traveling. But my wife, cats, and house all seem fine, as does the town.

I leaned about former POTUS Trump’s convictions while traveling. I was surprised. I honestly anticipated a hung jury and can tell you I’m really happy to have been wrong.

Listening to reactions since amuses me but brought little surprise. His stout supporters, which seems to be most of the GOP these days, still insist that the doddering, inept individual who is too old to be POTUS has pulled another one over Trump and the GOP. While I don’t agree with their characterization of President Biden, even the GOP must admit that their party and its candidate must be woefully unprepared and even more inept to allow President Biden to take down the GOP and Trump as he’s apparently done. I mean, to cast President Biden as so incapable and then have someone that’s so incapable beat Trump and the GOP down so completely must feel like a huge burn.

But no; they can’t hold such reasoning in their mind. Even though some of them claim Trump is sent by God. Guess their God abandoned them. It’s bizarre and sad thinking over there in MAGA Land.

Telling you, though, I think this trial chewed Trump up. Here he is, one unsullied by justice and the legal system suddenly being forced to sit in a courtroom and listen to the truth being told about him. Hearing 34 times that he’s guilty. Hearing twelve impartial jurors saying that he’s guilty.

Look at him. He looks tired. Worn out. OLD.

Listen to that speech after he left the courtroom. OLD. TIRED. LISTLESS.

Yes, his mojo took a big hit.

Today’s morning mental music stream (Trademark unsullied) comes from Taylor Momsen. Seems that a bat bit The Pretty Reckless vocalist when they were opening for AC/DC. I thought, that’s pretty fucked up.

Bang, The Neurons leaped on that. See, one of The Pretty Reckless’s songs is “Fucked Up World” from 2014. It’s a fairly raw rocker:

Back to these back door bitches begging me to behave
Jamming Jesus down my throat, no, I don’t wanna be saved
Ain’t a chain on my brain, I’m nobody’s slave
I got one foot in the cradle and one in the grave

h/t to Genius.com

Be strong and positive, and Vote Blue in 2024. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: flightrupted

It’s Thursday, May 30, 2024. Beautiful light blue sky with a little haze is outside the window. Sunny and 52 F.

I’m seeing the world through the Pittsburgh airport windows waiting for my Alaska Air flight. I was supposed to be leaving at 7:50 AM. About six minutes from now. Instead, estimated take off is now 9:18 AM.

That prevents me from my next leg, which was to be my final leg, Seattle WA to Medford OR. Now I’m going from Seattle to Salt Lake City to Medford. Instead of arriving about noon in Medord, I’m arriving about midnight. That sucks for my wife, who is picking me up.

Yeah, it’s all first world blues, innit? Still have food and a decent life. Just a series of bumps on this travel day, so I’m whining about it. I mean, I’m not out in a storm or getting shot at. I’m wired with a computer and reading the news.

And there’s a comic aspect. As I cope with these fight changes, the airline is urging me to start planning my next flight with them.

With this skewed schedule echoing in my head, The Neurons have Molly Hatchett performing “Flirtin’ with Disaster” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark delayed). The 1979 song isn’t quite right for the situation but I’d need to feed them more java before The Neurons will come up with something better.

Thank you to my sweetheart of a little sister and her daughter for getting up and picking me up and driving me to the airport. They’re both awesome people. They’re always doing things for me and treating me like a friggin’ prince, so I’m always in debt to them.

I’m coffeeing up. Stay positive, be strong, and lean forward. Let’s Vote Blue this year, shall we?

Here’s the music. Cheers

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: Cofflective

Here we go, Tuesday, May 28, 2024. Tornados have been messing with large swaths of the U.S. resulting in death and destruction. I’m thankful it’s milder here in the Churchill Valley, although it’s worrisome that lightning apparently struck a house and put it on fire.

Unevenly shaped, rough clouds muddle this morning’s pale blue sky. Sunshine skates in and out. It’s a cool but pleasant 60 F out. Today’s high will flex around 70 F. Thunderstorms and rain are in our close future.

Mom is doing well. Well is a relative term. She’s always expressing weariness and pain; those are regular life features for her. But she buzzed around the house, getting downstairs to do her laundry as only she can do it. She ate well. And she watched television, cursing Trump, wondering again who and why anyone would vote for “that thug”. ‘Idiot’ is sometimes subbed for ‘thug’. I need to remind her to do her property tax senior rebate.

After all the local holidays and birthday parties, I’m afraid that we’re running out of desserts. We only have remnants of angel food cake, a chocolate chip cake, coconut cream pie, an almost whole large apple pie, half of a tuxedo cake with chocolate mousse, and pecan sticky buns. It’s looking grim.

Tonight I visit with my sister’s family again. Tomorrow night is my nephew’s graduation. Thursday, I wing my way out of the area on an Alaska Air flight. Fingers crossed that all goes well with the flight and weather. I’m already working out the packing logistics to account for items added while here.

I ended up with “Stick Season” by Noah Kahan (2020) in the morning mental music stream (Trademark sharp). This almost stream of consciousness song about who the singer is after the changes wrapped up with a relationship’s end just mesmerizes me. It felt like a natural as I thought of my relatives’ lives, as well as my own, and where I’m at, and where they’re at. In our conversations about these things, struggles, failures, success, and frustrations were discussed, sometimes in short, sharp anecdotes and confidential revelations, but often through a long lens of reflection.

Let’s get on the move. Stay positive, be strong, and go forward. Also Vote Blue this year, okay? It’ll help us be strong and move forward.

Coffee is being gulped down and my pulse has resumed. Here’s the music. Have a strong day. Cheers

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Sunday’s Wandering Thoughts

I was skateboarding the net yesterday, swerving from click to click. An ad bounced up for an Ashlandia coffee shop I used to regularly frequently. It permanenly closed due to the pandemic, Jan 2021.

My backstory is that I enjoy coffee shops as a place to write. I began doing that when I started working from home and began writing short stories in parallel. I use the process of going to the coffee shop as a method to put on my writing hat and throw off the rest of the world. Finding the right place is a challenge. There’s the taste. Location. Prices. Staff. Decent writing surface and a place to plug in. Wifi is a nice convenience to add.

The coffee’s shop closure during the pandemic was the abridged edition. Located in a hotel, a husband and wife team managed it on behalf of her father. He owned the hotel He came in one December day and told them that plans were changing. They protested. The exchange grew angry and loud. The husband and wife were fired.

I’d been loyal to them. The staff walked out with the managers in protest. Long-time customers like me left and didn’t return. They made changes. I visited once a few months later. It wasn’t the same. Management declared after that that only hotel guests were welcome. That was only in the morning.

Replacing it had been difficult. An ad to come patron it surprised me. I checked online: permanently closed, according to its FB page and website.

But businesses are often shoddy about keeping their social presence online up to date. I drove by. Dark. Empty. Closed.

I went on to my new favorite coffee shop. I’ve already lost four Ashlandia coffee shops in the nineteen years I’ve lived here. Hope I don’t lose a fifth. Yes, it’s all about me.

Still, I had to ponder the business intricacies that had an ad for a closed business riding on the net. Sometimes, it’s still garbage in, garbage out.

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