Getting Through August 6th: The Significance of Certain Days

Soloppgang, August 9th, 2015.

This past two weeks have been rather good ones. The weather was great, and work went O.K.

I'm still working on my action novel, and getting out on my bike. The birds have been more silent than usual in the woods around here -- probably because it's nesting season.

Because of the drier than normal weather, the nearby bullfrog pond is losing water. :-(

I'd try to figure out a way to add water to it, but it would just drive up my water bill. The City can't really do anything about it, unfortunately, either.

CERTAIN DAYS JUST HAVE THINGS HAPPEN

Thursday of this week was a significant day in my calendar: August 6th.

I don't know about other families, but in my own small family (mother and myself, my dad has been gone for quite a few years now), certain days seem to have these repeating characteristics, and August 6th is one of them.

August 6th was the day my father died of cancer in San Diego long ago. It was one day short of my parents' anniversary. August 6th was also the day my favorite cat was killed by a coyote in 2006.

Since then, I lock my cats down every night around this time of year.

This August 6th was -- thankfully -- a quiet day. Nothing bad happened. Life went on as usual.

My favorite tree. The ground is dry. The grass is a whitish shade of brown.

WHY THE TENTH?

Other days in my immediate family have had significance: My father was born on the 10th, both my grandfathers were born on the 10th, and I was born on the 10th -- all of us on different months. Both my grandmothers were born on the 17th of different months.

My father (as mentioned) died on the 6th (August) and my step-dad died on the 6th (February).

The grandfather I never met, although he died many years before I was born, died on my birthday. My grandmother always said that when I was born, it made a bad day a good day.

I don't know if there is any point to this significance of certain days. But I always remain aware of them. In the past, when I had relationships, big quarrels would almost always take place on holidays -- July 4th, Thanksgiving, Easter, Christmas, and New Year's.

Since I recognised that pattern that a few years ago (I'm generally good at recognising patterns, actually -- not much gets past me), I have always stayed very aware of what is happening in relationships (when I have one) during holidays because of this.

High Tension powerlines with a broken, grey sky behind them. Taken the week of August 6th, 2015.

I have read of other people experiencing more trouble in relationships during holidays. Whether it's because of the stress of the holidays themselves causing extra strain in the relationship, or some other unrelated reason, I don't know.

But anytime a holiday is coming, I always keep my eyes open.

As I write this, it is the 8th of August. The anniversary of when I got my little pal. She's the best thing that happened to me in a long time. August 8th will always be a good day because of that.

Here's hoping all of your days are good ones.

CC

A BEAUTIFUL DAY

Ah, August. It's the best time of the year, weather wise, here in the Seattle area. There's probably no place like Western Washington in the summer. The temperature ranges in the mid-80's (20's C), sometimes there are slight breezes, the river's warm, the lake is warm, and the dreary rainy periods of the year seem light years away.

22 grader og strålende vaer.

This morning I took a short bike ride down the local Trail, about a 5 km round trip. It was strålende -- purely awesome. The sun was high in the sky, and there were slight clouds, but a gentle breeze. The temperature was just shy of 80 degrees (about 22C). Later in the day it got a bit hotter, but not by much.

The local eagle's nest was still being watched by one of the eagles.

A closer view of the eagle, possibly the male. You can just see the white head of the eagle if you can zoom in on the picture. The tree is a dead cottonwood.

The local pigeons were hanging out on the power wires crossing the river.

The river itself is getting low, which means the water is getting warm.

The grass here is so pale a shade of brown it looks like it's about to wither away in places. The cottonwood tree in the center of the picture will probably have dried, parched leaves by the end of the month if the sunny, warm weather continues.

The grass is getting so brown it's pale, almost a dusty yellow -- usually in August our grass is brown. Technically, Western Washington and Oregon have a type of "Mediterranean" climate, although one never thinks of the Mediterranean countries while visiting or living here. But one look around during July and August can show you why our climate is classified that way. Dry summers (and mostly mild winters, with some exceptions).

I'll finish this short post with a pic of me about 3 and a half years ago when I had a full beard. I had a few extra pounds, also.

Wishing all a great August!

CC

Some Photos Of The Fourth & My New Smart Phone

 

I wrote a post a couple weeks ago about the Fourth of July, a big holiday here in the U.S.

These two fireworks photos are from last year.

In that post I talked about what the holiday used to mean to me, and what little it signifies to me now, i.e.: it used to be a great time with family, friends, and fireworks, and this year (because family is out of state or out of the area, and friends were working) unfortunately it was reduced to going out into the back yard, hearing and seeing no evidence of anyone celebrating the holiday, and -- well, cooking hot dogs on my small grill.

Unfortunately, there wasn't any of this safe-n-sane illegal activity going on this Fourth. Thddddt.

I did put out my flags, my Australian flag being the biggest one of them all:

I lost my Union Jack, unfortunately. It was a really big one, and a really nice one. It must have developed legs. Over one Fourth several years ago I flew just the Union Jack and the Australian flag out in front of the house -- no Stars and Stripes. It was my way of protest, I suppose, as they had just banned fireworks in the city.

Why the Oz flag, some may wonder. Because I grew up on all that music.

This year, I flew two American flags, sticking them into the yew trees (no flagpole). Below is one of them. The wind was strong enough it almost made this one fly away.

So, my Fourth was spent writing on my action novel and roasting hot dogs.

My small but handy grill. Picture from July 4th, 2012.

The hot dogs were of two kinds: standard and kielbasa. With mustard and horseradish they tasted very good. I bought some potato salad. You can't have a Fourth of July dinner without potato salad. My mom came over and we enjoyed the meal -- but the evening was uncommonly quiet for a Fourth.

Roasting hot dogs on my grill, July 4th, 2015.

I decided to forego that other Fourth of July tradition: beans. I am not a fan of flatulence.

The weather, of course, was magnificent. Usually the Fourth is a damp day that turns into a semi-sunny afternoon, leading into a dry evening. During normal years, The Fourth is when our cloudy, warm summer June weather turns into cloudless, hot August weather.

Of course, this year has been different. Sunny May, hot June, and sunny, hot July for the most part. It's like California sent us some of their sunshine. Bright sun + 85 degrees = California weather.

MY NEW PHONE

This past week, I got a new phone! It's sort of a smart phone, although without the massive touch screen.

My new, free, kinda smart phone. All the apps were free, too. Can't beat the price of free. Easy on the battery, too. It always shows three bars. No charger needed!

It was very inexpensive (it was lying in the middle of the road), and the monthly bill is very cheap: like I said, you can't beat the price of free!

It will replace my previous cell phone, which by now is an outdated model and a bit more bulky to carry around.

My old -- now outdated -- cell phone, which was about $3 at the drugstore. No matter where I go it's always four bars of signal. This phone would get four bars of signal on Mars. No charger needed, either -- just one 9 volt battery and it's lasted more than two years!

The only thing my old one is good for anymore is making very loud ringtone noises just after the theater screen runs those "turn off your cell phone" warnings. Which it does very well.

A quick pic of how I look today. Completely anti-fashion. Wearing my UW wool hat, although I am not a UW Huskies fan, even though I went to the U. The U alumni organization (which I never joined) always sends their magazine to the wrong address (it figures), and when I do get it, it always has an article begging for people to send their money. To one of the most expensive public colleges in the NW US.

Unbelievable.

Have a great day wherever you are, and hope your weather is as hot and sunny (82F, about 24C) as ours is here.

CC

Happy Third Week of July

Sunset, HCC, July 3, 2008.

It's been one of those months so far where the sun has been shining, but sometimes hasn't (very bright haze, grey skies, then 90 degrees); things are looking up, sort of... making gains, and then going backwards... you get the idea.

The Fourth of July was a relative dud. Friends had to work, hardly anyone in the area blew off even safe and sane fireworks. Either the economy is really socking it to those who normally would light a few fireworks off, or the killjoys that are trying to ban even sparklers are finally getting their way.

I put out my flags, cooked some hot dogs. It was a beautiful night, actually. It was not unlike the one in the picture below:

HCC, August, 2008, cheap digital flash snapshot camera.

I've been weightlifting, something that I mentioned in another post here. I had to cut back the amount of weight I was pressing to improve my 'form', so I could get more building effect -- feel more 'burn' -- from the presses. It feels better after workouts, yes, but it doesn't feel great to cut back on the weight to do it.

Ah, yes, the psychology of numbers.


I have made some pretty good gains with the weights, though, and that always feels good.

Your most basic toolkit is your body, and it's much better to build it than let it go -- especially something to think about when some simply can't.


I've started writing an action novel with lots of bad language (woops) and, of course, plenty of violence. The amazing thing about writing fiction is that there are no limits except the ones you set for your characters. Some of the characters go over the top a bit.

Sunset over Highline College, July 3, 2008. Taken on a cheap digital flash camera that -- although it was a 640X480 camera, it had very rich, saturated colors.

One of my friends is trying to arrange a jam session with himself, me, and a couple other guys -- and maybe it will happen this summer. I haven't really played with other people in a while, and as my own playing style is different from most (Mick Taylor's slide combined with Mick Cocks' rhythms), I'm not sure how it will fit in, but where there is a will there's a way.

My #2 guitar, which recently has been the one I've been playing the most.

I still have been working on some songs I have been threatening to get down for a while but the work involved sometimes makes it easy to put off.  But my playing has improved quite a bit.

A totem pole somewhere, I think it's at HCC. Taken on a $10 cheap digital camera.

I still have a couple posts in the works on a Seattle photo trip, and some nature pictures I took, as well as some photos of a Classic Car show that was in my city last weekend.

I've started a couple small articles on my long distance radio listening hobby -- articles that I may post from time to time. I also wrote an article on depression (I'm not depressed, but there was a news article about it a couple months ago that got me writing about it) that I may soon include here for my readers.

And all of you readers are much appreciated!

I'll end this blog post with something from Mr. Celery:

You just look deep into Mr. Celery's eyes and you can see where he's coming from.

Happy third week of July from CC.

THISTLE

Sometimes the most beautiful things are the thorniest.

Thistles being one of them.

I suppose you could say love is another.

I saw this Canadian thistle, sprouting up amongst the tall grasses and blackberry vines.

Such a splash of color! Light lavender and green, brightening up the wayside.

A thing of great beauty, but what pain it can cause!

Especially if you try to get close.


Having feelings for someone can be painful sometimes, and it isn't always easy to know when to cut your losses and move on.

But I don't give up easily.

If it fades away, and I hope it doesn't -- at least it won't be for my lack of trying.

THE INVISIBLE MAN

Many times in life I've felt invisible. And sometimes I actually have been.

No, not that sort of invisible, but the kind where you can be anywhere and people just don't know you are there.

An example:

One night (when I worked overnights) I was on a lunch break in downtown Seattle. I went down to Elliott Bay Books (doesn't exist anymore) and on the way back to my previous place of employment (doesn't exist anymore) I had to pass Pike Street.

Pike Street at the time was notorious for being a skid row kind of area of downtown Seattle. It still has some of that reputation, but like most of the rest of Seattle, it's become slowly rich and gentrified.

When I approached Pike Street -- on my way back to work, mind you -- there was a huge fight brewing. It looked like a cross between a large fight and small riot -- mostly the former. Five or six people yelling at each other, throwing stuff. The cops hadn't shown up yet. I needed to cross the small riot to get back to work.

The Invisible Me and a bit of railroad archeology -- definitely not Pike Street.

So I thought -- screw this. I'm just going to mind my own business and walk right through and past all these people, pretending that they're just naturally going to ignore me -- I'm going to be invisible.

And I did. Not a scratch, not a punch, not an insult -- nothing came my way. It was as if I truly were invisible. Maybe there was an angel of some sort protecting me. But either way, it felt like I was invisible.

I once wrote a song called The Invisible Man, not about that incident described above, but about a similar one that occured about the same time in my life. The music was good -- the words weren't, so I trashed it.

Invisible Me (holding camera) and Timmy the Cat.

I don't have a massive online presence, aside from the few standard places everyone goes.

I put this blog up as a means to promote some of my music projects, and perhaps connect with a couple of people. Over the past month I've seen a few people from the U.S., Denmark, UK, France, Israel, India, Netherlands, Poland, China, and Thailand (and most recently, Romania) check in.

How much of the blog people actually have read is anyone's guess, but it's cool to see any of you bother to read what drivel I'm writing at the moment!

PS, anyone can feel free to comment if they read anything that they like. I'll always comment back.

Have a great day wherever you are, from the Invisible Man.

THE CALL OF THE WILD

For exercise, I not only bicycle daily, but I also do strength training, working out with weights three to four times a week -- I use a barbell with iron plates. I have my weight bench and weight set in a sunny storage room which has a lot of boxes of stuff -- including boxes of books.

About three or four weeks ago while I was taking a break from working out, I looked through one of my boxes of books and found "The Call Of The Wild", by Jack London.

My parents had bought it at a thrift store a long ago, and they never read it. I had seen it around, but I had never read it, either.

While soaking up the late afternoon sun (my weight room has large windows) I started leafing through the book, and I realized it's over 100 years old.

I decided to read it. It was a good story, and a quick read -- about 220 pages in three sittings (I usually read about an hour or two a day while trying to sleep or sometimes waking up -- my quiet time).

Jack London's writing style is very clear writing, and very descriptive in places.

It's a story about a big dog that lives on a sunny, California grape farm. The dog gets stolen and sold as a sled dog up north in Alaska, where such dogs were needed (as pack animals) during the Gold Rush.

The dog goes through several sets of owners. Some tragedies happen. In the end, you could say that the dog rediscovers his "inner wolf".

I don't want to give the entire story away, even though you could probably read the synopsis on Wikipedia -- but it's a good story, and very descriptive of how tough it was to travel the sled "roads" in the winter in 50 degree below zero weather.

A lot of the sled trails were actually frozen rivers, which apparently served as 'roads'. It was possible for a sled to break through the ice on the rivers and lakes during late winter or early spring -- and many people apparently died that way.

Jack London spent some time in the Yukon and Alaska during the Gold Rush and obviously used his experiences to create this classic book. It's his most well known book.

I have another of his books -- "White Fang" -- also about a dog -- hidden away somewhere, in another box of books. I'll have to dig it out and give it a read.