Twozdaz Wandering Thoughts

My wife and I are traveling east in October to attend Mom’s 90th birthday celebration. I bought my airline tickets this morning. I have twenty-four hours to cancel them without punishment.

Wasn’t a pleasant process. I’ll put it out up front is that part of this is that we do fly first class. It is elitest, I guess, because we can afford it. Not really our choice, though, I’m gonna claim. My wife and I are naturally frugalish. That comes from parents who were tight with pennies, people who emerged from rural areas where the depression lingered a while. They taught us not to waste money. Then, in the military, enlisted in the 1970s through 1990s, we were solid lower middle-class earners. We’re not wealthy but we’re comfortable, yet my wife and I remain ‘natural savers’.

So saying, “Let’s fly first class,” goes against our grain. But, my wife suffers medical conditions. That’s one. Stack the airline propensity to squeeze us into tinier and tinier spaces to minimize their costs and maximize profits and executive bonuses, and you can understand why we spend the cash on first class.

Going first class automatically limits a lot of options. They aren’t many first-class seats. Usually just a few rows. On many aircraft, the last row of first-class seats do not recline or recline only a little. That severely limits the comfort level, in our experience, so that last row is out. Well, usually. That gets complicated. It’s like that on some aircraft and some airlines.

Then there’s the matter of the first row. They typically lack storage. If you’ve flown, you know that the standard storage for people is under the seat in front of them. Guess what the first row lacks? That’s right, a seat in front of you. That means your belongings must be stored elsewhere. Typically, that’s in the overhead bin, but that requires you to get up to get it. Yet if you have bad weather, you can’t just get up and get things at will.

I know, it’s a lot of complaining, isn’t it.

I’m not done.

We live in southern Oregon. Our airport is Medford. It’s a small airport. We’re flying across the nation to Pittsburgh, PA. That means we must go through hubs. San Francisco, Seattle, Salt Lake City, Denver, and Portland are the main hubs for us out of Medford. So, what time do we want to leave?

We’ve learned from nasty past flights that going early is the best option. That’s because so many friggin’ flights get canceled or delayed. Going early gives us more options when things go awry.

Then, though, there are the layover time gaps. One fight offers five hours in an airport. Another offers six minutes between flights. Six minutes. How the hell are you expected to raise from gate to gate in that time? It’s bullshit, innit?

So, those are the basic parameters for trying to cope with cost, times, space, distance, health, comfort, etc. Whatever we do, a long day is guaranteed. The best we can do is try to make it as easy as possible.

Even though the airlines seem to be actively against that sometimes. Label this as first-world blues.

Twozdaz Theme Music

Good morning to the world once again. This time, it’s Twozda, September 30, 2025. Blustery day for September’s final shout, chilly and wet in Ashlandia. 46 F outside. Summer has packed its bags. Autumn has slid in. 62 F will be Ashlandia’s high.

I hoped Trump doesn’t read about the Taliban’s move. 1440 tells me, “Taliban severs fiber optic connections across Afghanistan in its first nationwide internet shutdown amid morality crackdown”. That sort of morality move has a TACO vibe. I could see him making an announcement that he’s shutting down the Internet without understanding of the rippling effect across the nation and world, blaming the Democrats for making him do it or some shit.

I also couldn’t avoid the news that Bad Bunny is the next Superbowl halftime headliner. While congratulations to Bad Bunny are extended, I’m indifferent to the halftime show and typically just walk away. I’m not actually deep into watching the game unless my team is in it. I do casually tune in if my team is not. My wife, who is a social observer, does like to clock the commercials for the freshest and most interesting, an outgrowth of her time in the advertising industry over a quarter century ago.

One must wonder if the NFL knew that Bad Bunny would be a controversial choice.

Bad Bunny Being Chosen for Super Bowl Halftime Show Sparks MAGA Fury

The Superbowl halftime show used to have a ‘theme’. The last theme listed in Wikipedia’s list of shows was in 2004, when the theme was Use or Lose, an MTV effort to encourage people in the United States to register and vote. I think it ironic, given Trump and the GOP’s efforts to curtail the vote by making it harder by doing things like challenging mail-in ballots and baselessly screaming about voter fraud and stolen elections. Trump understands, though, scream loud enough and often enough, and people will begin believing, contrary to the old adage about people crying wolf too many times.

Maybe this year’s Superbowl theme is, Screw You, Donald Trump. It’d be great if there was a Jumbotron display of Donald J. and his BFF, Jeffrey Epstein, and their mates during the show. Wouldn’t that be great?

Today’s theme music comes from a juxtaposition gumbo. Like Trump’s declining ratings, the arguments washing around the looming Federal gubmint shutdown, frustrations with a Pandora’s box of personal matters that aren’t about me, per se, and about generalizations about enshittification of modern U.S. first world life. Although yes, I read that Trump’s approval rating has mildly ticked up recently, an abomination of common sense and critical thinking, but that’s how he was elected to start. Overall, I hold to a sense of free fallin’, hence the Tom Petty song choice today from 1989, “Free Fallin'”.

Got my lucky shirt on so I have hopes for the day. But I’m not sure about the providence of my other garments, particularly my underwear. They’re newish, and unproven. Here’s hopes that grace and peace find their way out of the woods and into our lives once again. Till then, cheers.

Just Passing It Along

I picked this up from Judy Thompson’s site, “There and Back Again“. Kevin Wilson puts to music the new daily wonder, “What’s Donald gonna do today?” Hope you enjoy it. Cheers

Mundaz Wandering Thoughts

My wife and I had a minor disagreement the other day.

I had surgery to repair a ruptured tendon last year, in October, 2024. I’ve had pain of various kinds since then. One source of pain was along toes three to five, which was often stiff with burning pain. I’d mentioned it to my surgeon, as it began during my convalescence from surgery. He said that it sounds like a nerve was damaged. I felt the same. Although I’m not a medical expert or doctor, etc., I broke and dislocated a wrist in my late twenties. Pins casts immobilized that wrist and arm. I suffered from a burning, painful sensation along the pin sites after they were removed. My doc back then told me it was probably nerve damage. It did go away after about twenty years. This foot pain felt just like that pain.

While walking the other day, I felt a sudden sharp and painful snap in my foot where the toe pain resides. After gasping and slowing for a second, I resumed walking. Lo, that foot pain was gone. It hasn’t come back.

I was so elated. I went home and told my wife. She responded, “Why is this the first that I’m hearing about this?”

One, it wasn’t the first she was hearing about it. She’d forgotten me mentioning it, but I spoke about in early January of this year. I don’t blame her for forgetting it. We don’t remember everything we’re told.

Two was a broader philosophical position. Basically, I don’t tell her about every pain I endure. I’m aging, and have pains from time to time. Feet, ankle, hips, neck, shoulder, back, abdomen, eyes, etc. Those pains often go away. Their duration can last anywhere from a few hours to a week. Sometimes they limit movement, and more rarely limit my activities. My point is, pain comes and goes. I prefer to not complain. And then means, to me, not mentioning.

And there’s a little history in that. Number one was Mom. Mom as a mother often told us to stop crying, stop whining, stop complaining. She wanted us to be happy children. If we couldn’t be happy, she wanted us to be quiet.

Then there’s history with my wife about this. Long ago, when I was twenty, I was severely sick for several days. We didn’t see doctors back then for things like that. Basically vomiting, not eating, listless, sweating a lot, lot of pain. That pain resulted in some moaning and groaning.

Yeah, I got over it and lived. But about a year later, my wife was speaking to others and talked about what a baby I was when I was sick and hurt. That insulted and angered me. I told her so when we were alone. It since became a theme for her to talk about how often men complain about being sick or hurt when women are so much hardier, and more willing to endure. I finally mentioned to my wife that I disliked this reductivism about men and pain. She’s done it off and on since, and once, after seeing me give her a look when she made such a statement, apologized and claimed that she wasn’t including me. Since then, she’s slowly drifted out of the habit.

But this is how we evolve. We have our basic attitudes and tendencies, and then we react to our environment. Part of that is how we react to what we hear. What is said about us, especially by those we love, admire, and trust. Maybe I’m being thin-skinned, but words matter. Part of my problem, too, is that I seem to have a very strong memory. I don’t easily forget or forgive.

I guess that’s my bottom line.

An Exercise Dream

I was with some sort of business organization. Don’t know much about it or my role. No significance about either rose during the dream.

Instead, we were being called forward to exercise. Dubious, I challenged the person calling me forward to exercise. “Seriously? We’re going to exercise now? We’re working.”

“Come on, we’re exercising twice a day and it’s time for the first exercise session,” was the response.

It really irritated me. Dressed in casual work clothes, questions swarmed my mind, like where are we going to exercise and what kind of exercise are we doing, and how long will this session last? They lined us up in two lines of eight. We looked ragged as hell, completely out of sorts. “This is ridiculous,” I muttered. Then waited.

What the hell was going on? Why weren’t we exercising? Well, we were waiting for one person. One person! My outrage soared. I heard them going around asking, “Where’s T at? Where’s T?”

“Who is T?” I asked.

“TJ Watt,” came the response.

I as incredulous. “The Steeler linebacker and edge rusher?” As they replied, “Yes,” I responded, “He works here?”

They went off to look for Watt. I turned back to the exercise group. A small, young man was in the room’s front, smearing some black stuff over his lips and lower face. “You are exercise leader?” I guessed.

“Yes.”

“I think this is really poorly organized,” I said.

Still smearing stuff over his face, he nodded. “So do I.”

Dream end.

Mundaz Theme Music

Munda arrives with little sun, a hint of rain, and a glaze of smoke. The air quality has improved to the mid sixties, a moderate rating. With sparse sunshine and thickening clouds, the temp now of 63 F is not far off an expected high of 68 F. This is September 29, 2025.

Reading about Trump and his unholy assault on morality, justice, equality, and freedom inspired The Neurons. What’s unreal about Trump is that his supporters claim they’re all about Christianity. They’re selective about that, prizing money over helping the poor and sick, and are eager to club strangers over the head or shoot them on sight, if they’re not the right color. We’ve had multiple mass shootings again, a situation that’s worsening. Trump blames violence on ‘the left’. That’s how it is in his alternate reality. In the real world, the right are the killers with guns, carrying out Trump’s violent, hateful agenda. He’s tacitly encouraging that violence by pretending it’s the left. That situation will worsen and eventually eat the Republicans and their base alive. Once that happens, maybe some sane governing can take place. Meanwhile, thinking of Trump and his Project 2025 right-wing approach has “Unholy” by Sam Smith playing in the morning mental music stream.

While I’m mocking the GOP, TACO first sniffed that he wasn’t dealing with Democrats and their ‘outrageous demands’. Then he lied his ass off to give himself cover, blaming Democrats for the impending government shutdown. Polls and feedback quickly bit him because suddenly he’s inviting a few to chat with them about the budget.

Also high on the mocking list is that pious religious bullshit artist, Speaker Mike Johnson – R (Hell). Fearful of having those Epstein files released because of what they’ll show about his master, Rep. Johnson is refusing to sit the newest Democrat representative to the House. Must be quite a bit of unsavory info, perhaps even information on crimes, involving DJ Trump in that file. Wouldn’t be a surprise, as smirking Jeffrey Epstein and smirking Donnie Trump were known as smirking BFFs.

Hope that grace and peace find their way to us before too much longer. Meanwhile, awaken and abide by your resilience. Coffee helps me. Think I’ll have another. Here we go again. Cheers

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑