Tag: wind

Sunda’s Theme Music

The pinks and white blossoms in my view offset the clouds’ wind and wuthering suggestions. Nothing can unburdened the wind’s effect. Lowing through the sky, it randomly shakes bushes and trees, giving an impression that one big creature is chasing a herd of other creatures through the foliage. I’m thinking, a T-Rex is after a swarm of smaller things and the smaller things are frantically ripping away.

This is Sunda, March 30, 2025. Just one more day of March after this, then April arrives to try to lift our spirits in ‘Merica.

I’ve again done the tango with my cat to give him his medicine. Knowing when it’s time to be administered, he alertly avoids me and asks for permission to leave the house. Usually takes five minutes of steps and talking back and forth before the med is delivered. I try to sound cajoling and calming; he responds with disappointment and distrust. Finally done, it’s feeding time, followed by his second med. I have the system down for the second one, amlodipine. It’s a powder. I mix it in with chumley and hot water. Then out the door he goes.

And back in, because wind. Papi the ginger blade has no patience for wind. I’ve been out there, though, and agree with his assessment, as that wind carries some winter on it. Now Papi is visiting me, paws on my leg as I sit here, requesting that I pet him. I take time out of typing and reading to do that, sipping coffee as he closes his eyes and purrs. Then, enough! He trots away.

Had a chuckle this morning. I was alone, which gave it a little crazy spin: The Observer view on JD Vance: spurned in Greenland and humiliated at home, the vice-president should resign. Right. Not holding my breath on that.

Rain tats awoke me from a swell dream today. A woman visited me to return my manuscript to me. After foisting a warm hug on me, she told me that she’d read it, and it thrilled her. Thrilled me to hear her say that. As we talk, the woman is gently stroking my arm or patting my shoulder. Her two teenage daughters were with her. She turned to leave and told her daughters to go ahead, she’d catch up. The girls went out the front door. Then the woman hugged me again and kissed me. She suggested she was interested in getting more intimate right then and there. I rejected her; she insisted and kissed me again. I was kind of, why not? But her daughters, I added. She smiled; “They won’t care.” Well…okay…

The little monkeys I call The Neurons kicked consciousness off with Laura Brannigan singing her cover of “Self Control” in my morning mental music stream.

You take my self, you take my self control
You got me livin’ only for the night
Before the morning comes, the story’s told
You take my self, you take my self control

h/t to AZLyrics.com

Oh, they’re funny. The song came out in 1984 and was a hit for Brannigan. She passed away just twenty years later, only 52. I realize in retrospect that the woman in my dream looked much like Brannigan.

Papi is asleep in his malabar chair. Coffee is selling its magic in my system. The wind is singing like a lonely cat. Hope you have a good one, wherever you are. Here we go. Cheers

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Goldilocks

Daily writing prompt
What is your favorite type of weather?
View all responses

I’ve become a sunshine person. It wasn’t always like this. When I was young, I’d go out in weather that had others questioning my sanity. As I grabbed coats, shoes, whatever was needed, people would eye me with aghast expressions. “You’re going out in that?”

“Sure,” I’d answer, “it’s just a little rain.” Even if was a monsoon. Rain, snow, sleet, wind, nothing kept me in. Not even thunder and lightning. “Just going for a walk.”

I loved pitting myself against the elements. Felt like a hero out of a 19th century novel, just a rugged individual surviving against the elements. I thought myself quite heroic. Especially when I knew there was somewhere safe, warm, and secure to retreat to when I had my fill of being heroic.

Different these days. “Where’s the sun?” I ask. I search all of the sky, even though I know where it’s supposed to be. I know where east is. I know the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. I know those directions. Still, I sweep the sky in search of the sun, in case it got off its leash.

I don’t usually get an answer to my question about the sun’s location. Others always think it rhetorical. Probably because everyone knows where the sun is going. Not like it’s a wandering cat.

I used to be more indifferent to the sun. Now, I’m very picky. I don’t want it too bright, too hot, or too much. I have become Goldilocks sampling the three bears’ stuff.

I like a good warm sunshine. Not enough for sweat these days. Used to be — but you know. I don’t want to sweat. I want to be warm, with enough sunshine that wearing sunglasses make sense. Not that it really matters to me: I’m almost always wearing sunglasses outside. Sometimes I wear them inside.

“Why don’t you take off your sunglasses?” my wife will say. “You’re inside now.”

“I’m fine.”

“You look ridiculous.”

I shrug. I’m used to that.

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Saturda’s Theme Music

If we’re rockin’ and rollin’, it must be Saturda. Well, according to the calendar, even if you’re not rockin’ and rollin’, it’s still Saturda.

Sunshine flashes some spirit but we’re mostly under cover of long stretched waves of gray-topped white clouds. Will it rain? Wouldn’t you like to know… Temperature is 42 F. We came close to edging into 60 yesterday. Weird experiencing that much warmth and sunshine for such sustained exposure. Dressed in jeans, shirt, and light jacket, sweat peppered me as I walked around on household business. Nice to have, as this is our expected average for the year. But it’s been so sorely absent that we have to re-adjust to it.

This being February 22, 2025, we expect a high today of 55 F. It’ll be partly sunny and partly cloudy. Rain is expected this afternoon. The wind has punched up, reminding me of that expression about March coming in like a lion. Papi the ginger blade (aka Butter Butt) doesn’t like the wind, mewhining, “Let meeee iiiiinnnnnnnn.”

Today The Neurons have offered a musical suggestion on behalf of Trump supporters. “Use Me” by Bill Withers, from 1972, inhabits the morning mental music stream.

But my answer, yeah to all that use me stuff
I want to spread the news
That if it feels this good getting used
You just keep on using me
Until you use me up
Until you use me up

h/t AZLyrics.com

I approached coffee with an offer that was eagerly accepted. Now the two of us are almost like one. Hope you have a day worth remembering for all the good reasons. Cheers

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Thurzda’s Theme Music

A stiff wind was rockin’ us last night in Ashlandia. As night came on shift, I watched our outside temperature drop to 34 F and then rise to 37 F. Rain fell and the temperature kept sneaking up outside as the wind barked at the moving branchs and howled at the sky. It’s not 41 F. ‘They’ have notified us that 51 F is possible as a high. The wind has skipped into a more mellow mood, sunshine has found a place in the sky, and all seems momentarily well on this day, Thurzda, Feb. 13, 2025.

Snow remains out there in force but its presence is shrinking. Bushes and trees continue their recovery. Fallen branches and trees around the city are being collected, cut up, moved away. If a bit more snow can melt off the piles lining the roads, we’re almost be back to normal.

Many are commenting on the bizarro Oval Office presentation by PINO Trusk. The elected half sat in a chair doing nothing and little vacuous. The other paced and made claims about finding and eliminating fraud. He made wild claims but stayed with the GOTP M.O. of offering no evidence or facts to back the claims. Looked like a Banana Republic Production to me. Paul Krugman did a nice take down of it in a post titled, Elon Musk Is Faking It.

Bet you saw the news that the GOTP wants to raise the debt ceiling for PINO Trusk. One reason given for the need for more debt is that ICE is running low on funds. Wow, who would’ve predicted that, right? Well, just ’bout anybody with the wits to realize the enormous costs involved with Trusk’s deportation plans. As seen on TV, the GOTP and their Project 2025 planners are purty damn witless, in addition to being lawless.

The Neurons jumped back to 1974 to find a tune to honor PINO Trusk. With all of his claims, he’s done nothing provable in quest of slaying fraud, as he claims; he’s only made us more vulnerable as a nation, broke laws and undermined justice, broke promises made to his MAGAts (see inflation and the cost of eggs), and sowed disorder and chaos on a national scale.

Stevie Wonder was found to have provided a song for the times. He called it, “You Haven’t Done Nothin'”.

We are amazed but not amused
By all the things you say that you’ll do
Though much concerned but not involved
With decisions that are made by you

But we are sick and tired of hearing your song
Telling how you are gonna change right from wrong
‘Cause if you really want to hear our views
“You haven’t done nothing”!

It’s not too cool to be ridiculed
But you brought this upon yourself
The world is tired of pacifiers
We want the truth and nothing else

And we are sick and tired of hearing your song
Telling how you are gonna change right from wrong
‘Cause if you really want to hear our views
“You haven’t done nothing”!

h/t to AZLyrics.com

I chugged some coffee earlier and I’m pretty well ready to go. Hope you have the plum-est of days imaginable, or some reasonable facsimile thereof. Let’s go get it. Cheers

4

Frida’s Theme Music

Mood: Decembristism

It was a dark and gloomy night but dawn broke as a bright, sunshiny day. Rain clouds knifed in during the intervening hours between now and then, thwarting the sun’s stalwart efforts to give us light and heat. Today is Frida, December 27, 2024. We’re surfing a 54 degrees F day, which t’aint a bad temperatures. The winds that scoured us last night have retreated. A kittenish breeze teases the trees.

Dreams rocked my night. All of ’em were quite personally oriented. Awakening from them had me thinking long and hard about them and what they meant, if anything. That’s often the issue with dreams: any meanings which your brain could be sharing gets wrapped and warped by confusing elements. Do they mean something, or are they just neurons gaming your consciousness?

Ran into a friend this morning. Well, not literally; we encountered on another. We’d not seen each other since October. I may’ve mentioned in posts here that I had ankle surgery in October and then immobolized by the recovery process. He didn’t know that and wondered where I’d been. I presented him a situation précis, with the main point being, that’s life. Afterward, walking away, The Neurons brought up a Dire Straits fave of theirs, “The Walk of Life”, into the morning mental music stream (Trademark aging). I originally associated the song with sports, especially baseball. Listening more closely, I recognized that it was about someone singing songs, and several references to rock and roll songs are heard throughout. An interview with Knopfler, the singer, songwriter, and guitarist behind the song, later confirmed this. Now I associate the song with anyone trying to make good through strife, keeping on toward a goal. This is life; you do the walk.

Days of 2024 vintage are trickling away. 2025 is coming up like a full moon over the trees. Time to rock on one more time. Here we go with the music. Cheers

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Sinda’s Theme Music

Mood: Sindawriting

The calendar declares that winter has officially entered the stage. Still feels more like a good fall rather than early winter in Ashlandia, where Teslas are found around every corner. A riled up wind is carousing around the neighborhood, stirring things up. Doesn’t sit well with our floofs. Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) says, “Merci, non.” But Papi the ginger blade insists on thinking, “Maybe it’s different now,” every fifteen minutes. Temperature isn’t bad at 49 F on this winter day, Sinda, December 22, 2024. Light rain and a high of 52 F are expected. Visuals say, yeah, that can be done. Clouds in varying densities from sheers to cotton layers in heather, oatmeal, off-white, and charcoal, pleasingly illuminated with eastern rising sunshine, set off against brittle blue sky, parade along the sky walk.

Today’s song is “Boys Don’t Cry” by the Cure. I don’t know why it’s in the morning mental music stream (Trademark blustery). I only remember one dream and it seems wholly unrelated to its tale of databases, strawberries, and fried food. Just in the kitchen, bustling about with floof feeding activities as Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) asks again about when he’s going to have his order delivered. Click, clink, bonk, the song is playing in the mmms and I’m humming along.

Done with the morning cuppa. Went down well. Brekkie is finished. Dressing’s final touches of shoes, socks, coat are needed, then I’m off to the coffee shop to cavort with muses and do the keyboard finger dance. Hope your day gives sublime satisfaction, no matter which season or weather elements are encountered.

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Sa’day’s Theme Music

Mood: Drowsaday

I slept in today. Three aspects drove it. One, my foot was cranky for rest, two, the night’s weather, and three, my bed was seductively warm and comfortable.

Foot/ankle continues getting better but I press to improve. That sometimes backfires. It’s a two-step, you know, step forward, step back, step forward, step back.

The night weather, though, holy stormy, Batman. Wind was busy when we went to bed. Rain was dumping. Few hours later, I awoke to distinctive moaning and a freight train sound. My youthful tornado experiences mumbled to my sleepy mind, “That sounds like tornado.” I checked the time – 5:05 – and rumbled out of bed and to the outside doors. Looking for tornado funnels, of course. In the dark. Hello.

Papi was out. That dumbfounded me. I checked his back patio condo. His usual refuge, it was disconcertinhly empty. Rain was spraying through the covered patio, because the wind was shoving it sideways. So it wasn’t the safe harbor that it normally was. Given that, I pelted back to the front door. See if Papi was cowering around there. Nope. I did some calling and whistling. No Papi. Repeated that in the back. Watched, waited, wondered.

Back to bed. The wind dropped the moan and its freigh train imitation. Serenity settled over the darkness. Whap, whap, whap. Papi’s familiar rap carried from the front door. I hustled out there to bring him in.

His fur was dry.

To end the tale, I fed Papi and returned to be ’bout 6:25. Settling in, I elevated my foot. Tucker found my hand and rested his head on it. Sleep hit me over the head. When my awareness next resurfaced, the timepiece’s digit were showing 9:45.

Pretty out there today, Saturday, December 21, 2024. Everything is wet but drying. Nothing in my vision’s field is wind-disturbed. Sunshine and a cloud-marbled blue sky rocks the valley. Temp of 46 with a few degrees left until we touch the high. That might be deceptive; I just watched an elderly-appearing guy making his way up the hill past my house. Wearing a light jacket with bare hands, he yanked the zipper up as far it would go and pulled his hands up into his jacket sleeves.

Today’s morning mental music stream (Trademark snoozing) occupant is Willie Williams with “Armagedeon Time”. Came ’bout from mind mutterings while listening to the wind and hoping the homeless and animals were all safe. But with lyrics like, “Lot of people won’t get no justice tonight” and “lots of people won’t get no supper tonight”, the song is a fitting tune to herald the coming year and concerns about GOP willingness cut up the nation’s social safety net.

BTW, this is it, shortest day of the year in the northern hemy. Take a few days but the days will cease their early sunsets and begin curving toward more hours of sunshine. Feels really needed as we end the tumultuous 2024.

Got coffee, had brekkie, and ready to boogie. Here’s the music. Merry solstice, ya’ll. Cheers

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Winday’s Theme Music

Mood: windulated

It’s a windy beast out there this morning. Definitely a creature of autumn. Trees are shimmying and waving branches like they’re cheering on the University of Oregon Ducks football team.

It’s technically a Sattyday, or Saturday as they call it in some parts of the U.S., samedi in some other places. October 12, 2024. 64 with a lovely balminess riffing. Most of the sun action is obscured behind a cloudy gray monolith. Our air will tiptoe into the low to mid sevenities this day.

The cats are out there, trying to make out like they’re happy with the weather’s shape. But their dismayed whiskers reveal their truths, that this wind is disturbing their sleep, mussing their fur, and annoying them with its sounds. Whenever I go by a door or window and look out, they eye the house like they want back in. I will go back and see if that’s true. Both will probably come in. Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) will stay but Papi will go back out. He has a short memory when weather is introduced as the topic.

You know who else doesn’t like the wind? DJ Trump dislikes the wind. The former President said some stuff about the wind at one of his rallies last week as part of his magic weave. This is lifted from a Huffpost article shared on Yahoo:

“The wind, the wind, it sounds so wonderful. The wind, the wind, the wind is, the wind is bullshit, I’ll tell you,” he said.

The crowed roared.

“It’s horrible, so expensive. Just too expensive. It doesn’t work. All of that to do y’know one tenth of one percent, I mean the whole thing is crazy,” he said.

Trump complained that wind power means people can’t watch television on days with no breeze.

He is right; the whole thing is crazy.

Speaking of wind, it’s a mess down in Florida after Hurricane Milton finished with them. Millions without power. Massive flooding. Sixteen dead, but people left homeless. Gas stations lack gas and alligators are swimming freely as a threat. President Biden has asked Congress to return to pass more funding for FEMA. Let’s see how the GOP reacts.

Moving on.

I have a friend with a fruitful fig tree, and she’s generous with its produce. After receiving pint after pint after pint of fresh, ripe figs, my wife baked a fig cake with a mix of almond and white flour. Excellent with coffee. I theorize it’d go well warm with a scope of vanilla bean ice cream as a dessert. But I’m having it this morning, cold with my coffee. Still fine riding on the taste buds.

All this wind thinking lends itself to songs about wind. I ended up with Kansas singing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark blown away). The Neurons agreed with the choice (although they did campaign for “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger and The Scorpions’ windy offering, “Wind of Change”. So here is “Dust in the Wind”, the 1977 progressive rock offering.

Stay strong, be positive, and vote blue in 2024. Rock on with your day. I’ve been rocking mine with coffee. Here’s the music. Cheers

Update: both cats came in and stayed.

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The White Jaguar Dream

First, I was working for a friend I used to work for, Laura. She was a terrific boss, perhaps the best I ever had. Certainly in the top three.

I was injured in the dream and forced to wear a cast on my left arm. It struck me as an unusual cast but I can’t provide any details. Encumbering me, it was forcing me to do things in unusual ways.

Laura was at her desk, watching and talking. I suddenly had a brainstorm about how the cast I wore could be modified to make it easier to deal with the limitations it imposed. Laura began talking about it a split second after the idea came to me. We both started babbling about with growing excitement. Calling me to her desk, she said, “Take out the notebook from the inside pocket on the left side of my jacket.” I did, and handing her the small brown book. She opened it to a blank page and started writing.

With a dream shift, I was now in line. I needed a new vehicle. Five people were ahead of me. A female cashier was helping us. I saw a white Jaguar convertible with a red interior. It seated four. I decided, that’s what I’m buying.

The cashier told the first person in line, “We don’t have any small cars left.” Then she called out to the rest of us, “Is anyone in line interested in any car besides a small car.”

Raising my hand, I responded, “I am. I’m buying that white Jaguar.”

The purchase was done with dream speed. As part of my purchase, I was given a model of the car. They went off to get it ready for me to drive away. I went to a coffee shop and purchased a cup of coffee in a paper cup with a plastic lid.

A hard wind was blowing. I needed to set my coffee down but worried about the wind blowing it over, even though I was in an office. I opened a file drawer and set the coffee in there, thinking that the drawer will protect it from the wind. Then I set the little white Jaguar on top of it.

The wind immediately blew the little car off the coffee cup lid. I wasn’t surprised. I said, “That’s exactly how I expected that to go.”

Dream end.

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We Got It All

First came a blind cane tapping, tentative, sporadic, all over. Rain.

Studying the morass of oncoming darkening clouds, I stepped out and waited. Rain drops pecked my cheek, patted my hair, skipped off my arm. I waited.

A wind rushed through the trees like an animal unleashed back to the wilderness and scurried past me. The storm cleared the high distant hills with a ragged announcement of thunder. I waited.

More urgent drops approached They were serious about maintaining a constant dispersal rate and issued warning I was going to get wet. I waited.

The full regiment of rain galloped toward me. Thunder burst loose of its binds. Lightning ripped across the clouds. More thunder chased it with heavy energy. And the rain and wind came with a howling spirit, striking my clothes and skin, posting goosebumps on my flesh.

And I stayed.

It was a classic Pittsburgh thunderstorm.

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