Saturday’s Theme Music

Mood: Chillified

Gray clouds have returned to win the sky. Really, it seems like one big light-gray cloud. Low relative to the upper elevations, it cuts off the view after two hundred yards, giving an impression that the world ends there.

The wind is sedated to an infrequent breeze. Chillier air has shifted back in. We navigate 39 F with a high of 50 proferred, and more rain sometime.

This is Saturday, November 23, 2024.

My song today is “Good Life” by OneRepublic. I’d been reading news and opinions online late last night. One thing after another led me to new insights and angles. I ended up reflecting on the MAGA GOP’s narrow minded views. Their hypocrisy and lack of principles always flavor my opinion, as well. I’m sure they rationalize everything as the ends justify the means. Such cliches allow them to declare they’re for freedom, equality, and ‘protecting women’ even as they curtail equality and people’s freedom. They’re all about conforming. Two sexes and genders, traditional missionary position, trad wife, that’s them, at least in public. We suspect many dark things happening in private, based on what periodically crawls into the light. See, for example, Donald Trump’s “grab ’em by the pussy” philosophy and his affairs, Matt Gaetz, Jeffrey Epstein, et al.

And, it’s their religion and their God to which we must all bow. That’s how they interpret religious freedom in their ‘Merica. Their pasteurized, homogenized history that must be taught. Anything bad that happened is pushed aside so they can pretend it didn’t happen. Mass shootings are all because of people with mental health problems who are troubled by the liberals’ DEI and woke agenda. All is good in the MAGA world, as long as the wealthy can avoid being taxed, the stock market is going up, and everyone is working, even if it’s at menial jobs for slave wages, even if it’s children working, even if the skies and waters are polluted. That’s their version of a ‘good life’.

As for Democrats, liberals, and progressives, they must be ignored, expunged, or re-educated to accept the MAGA way.

It’s so far from my idea of a good life that I’m nauseated when I contemplate the gulf.

Anyway, after I shifted through these strands of thoughts, The Neurons inserted “Good Life” into the morning mental music stream (Trademark rising) where it shared some time with “It’s My Life” by the Animals and “It’s My Life” by No Doubt. “Good Life”, released in 2010, feels like another of those songs people know mostly through movies and television shows. It’s been used in a few of them.

When songs are in my head, my mind often focuses on specific sections. In this case, the specific section is a set of lines:

Listen, to my friends in New York, I say hello
My friends in L.A., they don’t know
Where I’ve been for the past few years or so
Paris to China to Colorado
Sometimes there’s airplanes you can’t jump out
Sometimes bullshit that don’t work now
We all got our stories, but please tell me
What’s there to complain about?

h/t to Genius.com

Well, excuse me, but I have a lot to complain about. Some of it is about aging. Much of my gripping is first world blues, but there’s also a substantial political section to my complaints.

Coffee and I have been re-introduced. We plan to make green chili stew in a little while. The rain has begun dripping down again, clouds have dramatically darkened the day, and the temperature has leveled off at 42 F. Feels like something lower. That stew will go well with this day.

Here’s the music. Cheers

Friday’s Theme Music

Mood: Stormrelief

Friday morning, November 22, 2024, and my first thought comes: it’s quiet.

Different around 11:30 last night. Sounded like B-52 formations taking off on full throttle out of Guam over our house as relentless wind bore down on us. Rain shattered the night with a Buddy Rich drum solo for a while afterward. Flash memories of being with Dad when tornadoes were roaring around us came up. Then came recall of being in typhoons with my wife in Japan.

Morning recon showed only the water barrell out of place. Glances up and down the street were given; trees and utility poles are intact and upright. Telephone and utility lines looped as expected. Cars remain parked, and roofs still grace houses. Looks like disaster was dodged. I hope other places are faring well but suspect tales of power outages, injuries, and death will come. Typically do when a bomb cyclone drops.

With the storm came warm temps. 49 F now, gray clouds and blue sky approach and retreat. Sunshine gives an uneven performance. We expect a 52 F high today.

This weather experience cajoled The Neurons into thinking of weather songs. “Oh, stormy, bring back the sunny days.” And, “It’s flooding down in Texas. All of the telephone lines are down.” And, “Here I am. Rock me like a hurricane.” Or, “Dust in the wind. All we are is dust in the wind.”

The Neurons eschew all that. The Pixies instead enter the morning mental music stream (Trademark buffeted) with “Stormy Weather”.

Having decided that my foot and ankle swelling was due in major part to my edema issues, I went on a green smoothie fast yesterday. Sodium intolerance and veinous insufficiency seem to be the bad actors behind my edema so I wanted to knock the sodium down a bit. I’m also wearing open-toe compression socks on both legs. Overall, the one-day treatment seems helpful. I was swollen by the day’s end but it didn’t seem like it was as bad as previous days. Slept with my legs up. The swelling dissipated, as it always does. It’s fluid moving from one place to another for me. Back on my normal diet today, although I’ll eat less and minimize my sodium intake. Sodium is everywhere, though, and difficult to escape.

As far as the actual surgery location and affected tendons, they seem to be doing well. Tenderness and sensitivity around the suture site is reduced. I hope to put a shoe on within a few more days.

Hope all of you out there are doing well. Coffee is being swallowed, working its magic through my cells. Here is the music. Cheers

Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: Raindamental

A light grey bolt of cloth stretches over our valley. Winds whip trees into wild gesturing. Accumulated moisture glistens on everything. This is Thursday, November 21, 2024.

A bomclone continues its hold on us, closing roads outside of the valley with snow and fallen tres, but we’re okay in our neck. 44 F, light rain, but hey, it feels like 47 F and it’s gonna strike 48 before daylight fades.

Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) is okay staying in with that weather raging outside but Papi the ginger blade is trying to set a new record. He’s been in and out six times today. I think he’s been inspired by Robert Heinlein’s cat and is looking for the door into summer. As my wife lets Papi in, she asks him, “Are you hungry?” Like asking him, “Are you an orange boi?” Hell yeah, he’s hungry, Papi hollers back. He hasn’t eaten in like fourteen minutes, the last time he left the house.

A moment for mock applause. Gotta hand it to Trump, he’s being proactive. No sense waiting for folks to become part of his administration to get corrupt. He’s gonna start with corrupt individuals and see how corrupt he can be. Like he’s angry at the nation and the concept of freedom and democracy and the public welfare and is out to destroy it via a rich man tantrum. I mean, have you seen the names and records he’s trusting to do his bidding? Hope his voters shrivel with shame and sink into the ruin they’re making of this nation. Yeah, I’m not bitter, angry, or disgusted. History will judge them harshly.

Thinking of summer, The Neurons begin working up summer songs. They finally emerge in the morning mental music stream (Trademark watery) with Superchunk and “This Summer” from 2012. It’s a song I rarely hear except when I’m tuned to satellite FM in the car and on an indie-oriented station. And while it’s about summer as we travel a trough of stoutly autumn weather, the lyrics kind of play into it. To get a little political (moi?), one of the lines go, “We can’t forget what we never knew.” Perfect epitaph for Trump voters IMO.

Get positive and remember your values and dreams. Coffee has entered my systems and is doing its thang. Here’s the music. Cheers

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: Determoptimistic

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

Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: Weathicipation (when you’re awaiting a weather event)

Got my “Death Before Decaf” filled with hot black java, ready to fight off the forces of sloth, lethargy, and fascism.

It’s Tuesday, November 19, 2024. Cloudy and 39 F. Light rain and a high of 43 F is expected. Also expected is a bomb cyclone. (I’d just call it a bomclone. But that’s me.) It’s expected to bring high winds and heavy rain to our area. Thing is, our location in the pinched end of a valley sometimes protects us from these things. Fingers crossed.

Have to pause to just say that Rep. Mike Johnson, R-Bullshit, is maintaining the MAGAt tradition of lies and hypocrisy. This devout Christian is earnestly protecting ex-rep Matt Gaetz, R-Gag. MiJo claims that MaGag is a private citizen. Therefore, the ethics report on him should not be released. Apparently, to MiJo, it’s not important what an ethics investigation paid for by WTP discovered about MaGag’s behavior and ethics. No matter your politics, WTP should be outraged. We have a right to know. We paid for it and MaGag was supposed to be working on our behalf, representing our nation and our values. But that’s classic MAGAt BAU. Lie, cheat, obsfucate. Point of order brought out by others, plenty o’precedence exists for releasing the MiGag ethics report. As a final f’instance, Hunter Biden‘s status as a private citizen meant nothing to MiJo. It’s the ol’ GOP double standard, and it’s putting off an unholy reek on Capitol Hill these days.

With thoughts of a bomclone bearing down, The Neurons threw songs with ‘bomb’ in the title into the morning mental music stream (Trademark flooding) mix. While the Gap Band was representing, the Runaways overpowered it with “Cherry Bomb”. The all-female rock group released the song in 1976. It did okay, nothing great, but its driving beat and inherent attitude has gotten it a place in movies and television shows. So you might not have heard it when it was riding the airwaves but you may have caught it in other media.

Get up, let’s go, time for another day. Cheers

Monday’s Theme Music

Mood: coldcoffeecomforted

Monday began with my wife’s comment. “If you think yesterday was crappy, wait until you see today. It’s crappier.”

“Why?”

“Cold fog and rain all around us. There’s no sun at all.”

It’s November 17, 2024. Thanksgiving in the U.S. is just a lick away as fall’s descent toward winter continues. 35 F now, it feels like 42 they tell us, but the day’s high will be 36 F. Hope it can feel like 60.

Voting with their legs, the cats agreed with my wife’s assessment. Papi went on exploratory runs but soon returned, pounding on the front door glass. A trip to the refueling station followed, and then it was off to sleep out the day.

I’m close to doing the same. Foot/ankle much better, just twinges and spikes of pain and discomfort, with brief squalls of swelling.

“Still Alive and Well” had been voted in by The Neurons as today’s theme music. The ’73 Johnny Winters song was on a live album I enjoyed as a budding young adult and has housed itself in my morning mental music stream (Trademark still streaming).

Coffee has been ingested. Be strong, get positive, hold fast. Here we go.

Cheers

Mistday’s Theme Music

Mood: dhilldown

We bounced into a misty Sunday. It’s 48 F, up from 38 F. Mist dominated the morning. Rain dropped for a while on this November day, then sunshine blasted through. Now it’s like mist from a walk-in freezer is rolling over us. This pattern cycles throughout the day.

It’s the 17th. We’re slinking toward December, the holidays, and the end of 2024.

The shifty weather has the cats floofboozled. Is it warm, is it dry, what’s going on? Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) tested it once. Papi has campaignd for a revolving door. Now both are in, dry, warm, napping.

Foot and ankle recovery was set back. Some bleeding. Lot of swelling. Ice and Salan Pas applied, with lots of rest with an elevated foot. Feeling much better today, but I’ll continue a slow roll of recovery.

With mists swirling through my awareness, The Neurons cranked the mental music box handle. Up popped Led Zeppelin with “Misty Mountain Hop” into the morning mental music stream.

Be positive and hold fast. Coffee was skipped. Here’s the music. Cheers

Saturday’s Theme Music

Mood: cloudark

Bit of a darkly mood today. Overdid it with my ankle, pressing to get better. It told me in manners aligned with surgery and lack of use over a few weeks that it didn’t appreciate what I was doing. So now, resigned to slowing down, taking my time. This is one of those situations where a strength becomes a weakness. My strength is a high tolerance to pain and discomfort, and an ability to ignore or overcome them without meds. Doing so with this ankle is clearly screwing up my recovery. With my wife’s *ahem* coaxing, I’m cooling it.

It’s a bleak day out there. Leaves have abandoned the trees and are drunkenly sprawled over the land. Dipped to 30 F for an overnight low. Sluggish sunshine is barely overcoming the cloud wall sealing in the valley in gray and black. Showers and a high of 42 F is on the charts. We’ve been having days of rain. Some has been solid and heavy. Okay, cuz we need rain to refill everything and soothe the earth. More important is snow. Necessary to bank on for the dry, hot months, snow is beginning to gather on the higher mountains.

Hmmm: interesting book title: “The Gathering of Snow”. All kinds of inherent possibilities.

The cats are slowly coming to claws with recognition that the season has shifted into a colder and wetter period. Less demands to let ’em out are noted. Both prefer cozying up at a warm indoor spot over darting back outside. That pleases me; rather have them in. Nurse Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) still hovers over me, sleeping alongside me as I nurse myself back to full functioning.

With convalescence going and a lot of time to think, The Neurons took trips into memories of other injuries, illnesses, sicknesses, and being laid up. Has happened a lot. Started as a child and hasn’t let up. That slowly opened the door for “Time After Time” by Cyndi Lauper to pop into the morning mental music stream (Trademark repeating). Other than my thoughts about being in recovery time after time, nothing in the 1983 song relates to my situation. Doesn’t stop Der Neurons! It’s an enjoyable song in my estimate about romance, missing a loved one, waiting while enduring their absence.

Let’s get positive, and hold fast. Here we go, another day in the life of. Coffee has been procured and is being consumed. I am at the laptop, foot propped up on a chair, black and white cat snoozing on the floor beside me.

Here’s the music. Cheers

Friday’s Theme Music

Mood: Recalibrating

Chilly. Cold. Bleak as the moors below shifting dark clouds and undependable sunshine. Real stay in and have some hot food weather, if you can.

It’s 41 F and won’t get much warmer. The damp hand delivers a new chilly flavor. Fall — autumn, if you prefer — has a two-handed hold on Ashlandia.

Pause. Let me tell you. I was most disturbed to see Trump carried my county by seven points. Like, WTF, over? Distrust of my fellow local citizens is hepped up. I don’t know what you people are thinking goes through my mind as I consider strangers and workers. You might be one of those leaning to an authoritarian state. How can I ever trust you again?

While we were talking about the 2024 election results and its impact on American values, mores, and norms, my wife brought up some history. She reminded me of the fifties and sixties in the U.S., and how many women were self-medicating to cope. Would that be repeated in this new MAGA era?

Part of that conversation impelled me into territory about how it was so widespread, it was recognized as part of popular culture in books, movies, and songs. “The Graduate.” “Mother’s Little Helper.” “Valley of the Dolls.” “Rabbit, Run.”

It’s the latter that flashes through the morning mental music stream (Trademark endangered). The Neurons have always liked the Rolling Stones’ song about pills being abused.

Here we go, another day. One step after another. Regrouping. Moving on, pressing on.

Yes, I have had coffee today. The first in over two weeks. Good to have my old friend back in my system.

Here’s the music.

Cheers

Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: Watersloshed

Rain hammered the rooftop. The furnace blower sang along. Slowly we crept toward the dawn of a new Thursday. This one is blessed as 11/14/2024. Or 14/11/2024. You get it.

When the lights came up and the blinds followed, our lovely tree lit the back yard, a red and gold exclamation point on a gloomy fall day. Weather hipsters, aka weathings (weather beings, if you need it spelled out) said, this is the day, take it or leave it. 42 F now, and that’s it. Rain is the main course, with a small plat of sunlight later.

We bundled into my wife’s car as the digits clicked toward nine thirty. Had to be there by 10:05 for the 10:20 event. Traffic was light and the rain little slowed us. We were there early. There, our destination, was my post op meeting with my care team ’bout my ankle.

By 11, it was all done. Bloody bandages were cut away, stitches removed, foot and ankle examined, and all deemed good enough to be done with the boot and crutches. Work it out on my own going forward. Elevate if there’s swelling and ice. Otherwise see you in four more weeks. And the boot, the cumbersome black and blue wet suit for my foot and ankle with its velcro tentacles, was no longer needed. I could sit upright if I wantd. The things we take for granted.

Walking was weird. The foot was a little misshapen by the bandages but that worked itself out after an hour. The toes are like they belonged on the tin man and cry for a lube job. That’ll work out, too. But the legs weren’t ready to accept a normal gait. I mildly tilted to the right and still cautiously favored that foot. Bending my knees as I took steps was a mindful process.

Next up: driving.

I’m looking for a place to buy in the northeastern United States and visit Zillow for possibilites. We’re tired of living so far away from our families that we need to travel by car and plane for a day, giving to the weather and technology gods so they’ll favor our journey. Doesn’t seem like it used to be so bad…

Anyway, I checked out a house and realized that it was a street I once live upon. That sent me down memory paths via Google streetview. Naturally, I recalled friends from the time and neighborhood. One of them was Richard. Seeing his tiny house on the screen and his face in my mind rekindled memories about one Sunday morning spent in Richard’s presence. All he wanted to do was sing “Yellow Submarine” by the Beatles. Wasn’t high or anything; just how he was. I offer it now as today’s theme music.

Be strong and hold fast. Haven’t had coffee in two weeks. Didn’t want to partake of my dark friend’s energy while I was laid up. That’ll change tomorrow.

Cheers

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