My dream seasons amuse me. There was a period of episodic adventure dreams that didn’t seem to have me as a character. There are dystopian dreams where I’m part of a cadre of survivors. Military dreams are common in which I arrive at a new assignment and something goes wrong. Then there’s the running dream.
The running dream was had again last night. In them, as in others, I’m running. Yes, that is why it’s called a running dream. This running was being done on a timed closed course full of hills and curves, really like a sports-car or Formula 1 circuit. No purpose was given. All I know is that I arrived to run. My sisters are present to cheer me on. Stripping down to the basics of shoes, trunks, and shirt, I take off on a timed practice run.
I finish and my time is announced. People are astonished by my speed.
But I’m not pleased. I think, I can do better. So I set out again, again, and again. My time improves every time. I’m getting faster and faster. Moreover, I’m noting where I’m slow. Certain curves and hills slow me down. I systematically develop ways to overcome those issues.
Fans are now lining the start/finish line and most of the track. They cheer me on, along with my sisters. My sisters also brag about me. I hear them telling others, “I knew he’d be fast.” Other contestants are dropping out because they don’t think they can beat me. I’m try to encourage them to remain in the race, telling them, it’ll be a good learning experience, and I might not win. They might find more speed in themselves; I might hurt myself. I could fall and fail to finish the race.
But on race day, I’m alone as the sole competitor.
When it rained, it poured. Ashlandia found itself in rain’s thrall this morning, Munda, Mai 12, 2025. Our usual rounds of complaints and hopes were expressed: rain is good, but so is sunshine, and the cisterns and reservoirs are full. It is nice to put done to the drought and have wet land and vegetation again. And soon, we remind each other, the sun will be turned on full and we’ll be drenched in sunny heat and triple digit temperatures. In other words, shut your mouth and enjoy what you got, we Ashlandplain to one another.
Temperature is 50 F. Mostly cloudy. Drying. Visibility has improved. Low clouds were embracing the ridge tops, bringing to mind the Allegheny Mountains in Western Pennsylvania, Eiffel Mountains in Germany, and the mountain ranges of South Korea. Now the cloud ceiling has lifted, but sunshine is still rationed like the last gallon of water. Ashlandia’s high will kiss 58 F.
Papi is not of a mind to enjoy the rain. He came into the house about dark rain thirty, yelling for company, food, and a towel. After testing the weather for half of the morning, he found a comfort zone on a bed and made it his temporary home.
Now, hey, look, sunshine has burst out on us.
Trumpland Munda has given us another mind-boggling start to the week. There’s his ‘big deal’ with China. Trump says he’s lowered the tariffs and made the greatest deal in the world; China says, “It’s a good first step.” Trump is actually undoing some of the mess he created. That brainless child called the stock markets responded with the giddy joy of a child being given a huge bag of their favorite sweets. Meanwhile, since it’s Trump, he could renege tomorrow. It’s also only temporary at this point, a pause, not a cancellation. Or it could just be another distraction, part of his long con.
Trump’s Regime is arguing that its plans to lay off, fire, or terminate government employees should not be released to the public. Why, you might ask. Well, of course for the best reason of all: it could cause “embarrassment” or “annoyance” for the Trump Regime. So what if it’s completely disrupting millions of lives? Woo boy, that administration embarrassment or annoyance is a powerful, powerful reason. Yes, that was snark, since you asked.
The week’s forecast calls for more chaos, lies, and bullshit in Trumpland.
Today’s music is “Pink Pony Club” by Chappell Roan. This song came out in 2020 and was re-released in 2023. Now, suddenly, we’re hearing it all the time. Wikipedia labels it, “a pop, synth-pop, dance-pop, power pop, disco-pop, and disco track that describes the story of a woman moving to Southern California from her home residence of Tennessee, taking a job as a dancer in a gay club in West Hollywood despite her mother’s wishes.”
When my wife and I were on vacation on the Oregon Coast recently, this song came on whenever the radio was clicked on. Same thing happened today when we did our Food & Friends delivery. Not my style of music but its melody has gotten snarled in My Neuron’s morning mental music stream, and I can’t get it out. The best tactic in these situations is to share the song with others. That somehow loosens its hold on my brain.
The song has brought Chappell Roan significant commercial success and recognition. More importantly, in interviews, she talks about how freeing writing and performing the song was for her. She never felt like she belonged in her hometown. Creating this song empowered her. Congratulations to her. I hope she enjoys more success.
See the news on the new Air Force One? Course you have. You’re not living under a rock.
First, it’s like saying you got a new car when it’s 14 years old. Also, it’s like a deal from a friend of a friend. People, including me, are questioning the legality of this. I’m pretty sure by now that the Trump Regime will do what they want and dare the rest of the nation to stop him. Republicans won’t. DOJ sure as hell won’t. So, you know. There’s gonna be new used Air Force One.
I was more interested in collateral ideas. I’m sure the Secret Service, FBI, CIA, and others will check it over for surveillance equipment. Will they also check to ensure it can’t be taken over from afar? Remember that Trump comment about a ‘killswitch’ on the F35s the US was selling to other countries?
Feels like Trump stirred that pot long ago, but it was only a month. I know, in Trump years, one month equals five years . I base that on the feeling that I’ve aged about twenty years since he took office.
I wonder if Qatar ever considered adding a killswitch to this aircraft gift to Trump — I mean, the United States. Could you imagine that scenario? “Fed up with Trump’s mangling of the global economy, the Saudi royal family pressured Qatar to employ the killswitch on Air Force One. After the aircraft lost power and control, it crashed into the Earth and exploded into a fireball. There are no reported survivors.” I can see a movie or novel in it.
On the other hand, Qatar, the country giving Trump the plane — sorry, the country giving the United State the plane — is telling everyone, “Hold on, this isn’t a done deal. We’re just thinking about it.”
We’ll see. You know how it is with Trump. One minute, he says he’ll never change his mind. Next thing you know, he’s saying, never say never. The aircraft news might be old news by next month.