The cat is sitting across the room by the open back door. His name is Papi. He’s either orange or a ginger. I’ve never given it much thought.
Smiling, I cross to pet him. He shouts out a plaintive and loud three-syllable meow.
I stop and looked at him. “That was annoying.”
His eyes shift. He’s making a mental note.
That confirms for me, that meow was part of Project Irritation.
I’m still putting Project Irritation together. I believe its overall scope is for the cat to try things and then document how I react. He can then put his findings to use to control my behavior.
I offer this with all seriousness. It’s the only idea that can explain the many meows he’s been employing in the last week.
Besides the Meow Phase of Project Irritation, I believe he’s also testing the limits of how often I will let him in and out of the house. He’s also conducting experiments on me by using differing reactions to his food. No doubt, he’s attempting to steer his food choices by indoctrinating me based on how he reacts to his food. He’s long sussed out that I’m his feeder and care giver.
Now he just needs to study me and take control.
It’s probably part of a more extensive cat project: “How to dominate the world”.
They already have the Internet close to completely in their paws. It’s only a matter of meows before they control the rest.
My body and mind were unanimous. More sleep was wanted. Yesterday was busy with an Easter Brunch. We’d been preparing all week. 10:15, we set off to go help with setup. By 11:30, all were there. A smorgasbord awaited. Mexican quiche, salmon with asparagus, salmon and cream cheese rolls. Dutch babies and lemon cake for dessert. Salads. Juices and libation to make it chippier. Easter egg hunt and korn hole. A half dozen present shared their latest stories about demonstrating against Trump in Ashland and Medford. 2 PM, it was all over.
Over to a friend’s house for his 93rd birthday. Just family and my wife and I. He has health issues and didn’t want a gathering. After singing the birthday song, witnessing the candle blowout, and visiting for two hours, we headed home to unpack and wash everything.
Blue skies were the day’s order. Light wind kept it from becoming too warm. 69 F was the tops. Today seems like it looked over yesterday’s shoulder and copied the weather.
I reminded my body and mind that sleeping in wasn’t an option. Today is Food & Friends deliveries. Crank up the car, pick up the food, and roll through the streets on route 3 to knock on doors and ring bells and drop off a small meal in southeastern Ashlandia. I’m the driver; my wife makes the deliveries.
Then, finally, it’ll be back to writing at the coffee shop for a few hours, and then home to wash clothes and attend yard work. The grass and weeds are gladded by the sunshine. It’s all shooting up fast.
Papi is beside himself with happiness by the time the air warms. It’s rolled up to 49 F now. He heads outside and sniffs out the sunshine. Then wind sniffs him out and he’s back in. It’s a never-ending game of ‘In & Out’!
The mountain air loads the night with temperatures that dribble down into the mid thirties. That temp feels colder. But we’re on the regular Ashlandia spring track. Only troubling thing is we’re not seeing any bees. They’re normally all over the place with their buzzing presence. Their absence disturbs.
Yesterday’s Easter Trump dump again illuminated his pathetic ways. That vitriol and lie-filled text mess is a sign of an insecure, demented, ignorant person. Trump’s dark forces again rose to show what a sinister and ugly place the United States is becoming under his hand as two young and wholly innocent German tourists were detained and deported, all for the crime of not having accommodations already reserved. Such fools are now in charge. Then there’s Trump’s undocumented bullshit broadside against Abrego Garcia. WTF, United States. Is this truly your vision?
With those thoughts spinning through my groovy organic thought machine, The Neurons spun up Aerosmith in the morning mental music stream: “Same Old Song and Dance”. Last time I used this ditty was in 2019. Trump occupied the White House then. I wrote back on that day,
Reading the news yesterday and today, I was shaking my head, partially laughing while crying. You know, it was the same old story.
That led to me streaming Aerosmith.
It’s the same old story Same old song and dance, my friend It’s the same old story Same old story Same old song and dance
It was an easy song to identify with when I was a teenager and the song was released. When you asked questions, you often heard, “That’s just how it is. That’s how it goes.” It was always the same old song and dance, no matter what you were asked.
So here we go. Trump is attacking and bullying whatever he can — law, courts, common sense, history, morality, it’s all open to a Trump attack. He’s like a puppy gnawing on clothes, shoes, and furniture. Nothing is safe from his brainless chewing. A puppy does far less damage, though. A puppy will grow out of it. Trump, with his deteriorating and aging mental capacity, will get worse.
Same ol’ story, same ol’ song and dance.
Have the best day you can, my friend. Fueled with coffee, I’ll rock on for another day, it seems. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 