Month: September 2025

A Dream of Quinn

I dreamed last night that one of my cats came back to me. His name is Quinn. He was a tiny, long-haired, blackfoot sweetheart. In the dream, I was cleaning a house, dusting, sweeping, etc. The house seemed to be mine although it was no house recognized from real life.

Quinn, back in the day.

Quinn, a meticulously groomed cat, was matted in my dream. Seeing that, I made plans to thoroughly wash him and brush his fur and get it unmatted. Per his personality, Quinn dashed around. An intelligent and inquisitive beast, he always was there to see what was going on, but he despised change, and loud noises unsettled him and sent him scurrying off to a quiet safe place. So, in my dream, I ceased cleaning and making noise and just worked on coaxing Quinn to me and gaining his trust to de-mat him. I was just beginning to do so when the dream ended.

Papi, my current floof-in-residence, asks, why are you dreaming of other cats?

Oddly, awakening from that dream and reflecting on it stirred memories of living with Mom when I was young. Mom’s home would be noisy with cleaning. She’d get up and leap into action. After scrubbing the kitchen, she’d turn on the dishwasher. Next, a load of wash would be started. While dishes and clothes washed, she’d vacuum, creating a cacophony of modern cleaning. Then would be dusting and a thorough attack on the bathroom. We only had one. If home, I’d often be volunteered to vacuum and dust. Mind you, the house was already spotless before Mom started cleaning, but she always cleaned to the nth degree. In reflection, part of her house-cleaning approach was that her home reflected her abilities in her mind. I also think she reveled in the routines and sounds, as well as the results.

The other thing, on days like this, where clouds handicap the sunshine and cool air dishes it to the land, Mom would busy herself with making hot food like chili. Her chili depended on several cans of dark red kidney beans, a large diced white onion, a chopped up green pepper, a tin of tomato paste and another of stewed tomatoes, and a couple pounds of browned hamburger. I know this because I was also volunteered to help with this process.

I learned a lot at Mom’s elbow.

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Thirstdaz Theme Music

We’re in a weather triangle, a tangle of seasonal changes. Summer is drifting away, taking its warmth and going elsewhere. Today’s high is 75 F, an eleven-degree scramble from our current posture. Thunderstorms threaten again. Looking back, we had few days over 100 F, a relief from previous years when clusters of such days savaged us. Much more rain is visited upon us than usual, allaying drought worries. For the record, this is Thirstda, September 11, 2025.

So, here we sit, looking back at 9/11 while pondering the assassination of Charles Kirk. I’m in a triangulation of despair about the U.S.’s polarization and violence, lamenting, another gun killing, and dismayed reflection on Kirk’s rhetoric, spewed often, about killing others. Some will say that his death by gun seems karmic; he’s reaping what he ordered for others. We’ll see the question, is this a tipping point for the U.S., often played out. We won’t know until we’re further down the road. What we do know is that Kirk, as we often see from the right in the U.S. in this age, cherry-picked Bible verses to foment resentment, hate, and violence. What we also expect is some spillage from the conspiracy machine, trying to use Kirk’s death as a wedge between us, trying to make a bad situation worse. Unfortunately, that’s how some people now think.

There’s one clear bennie for Trump from this, in that Kirk’s death will be a distraction and take some pressure off Trump about his relationship with Epstein and lessen the drumbeat to release the files.

Meanwhile, from down south in northern California, emerged a story about vanishing rural hospitals. SF Gate reports, “The closure of Glenn Medical Center, located north of Sacramento in remote Glenn County, is expected to happen as soon as next month. It’s one of at least 28 anticipated hospital closures in rural California, which is confronting financial hardship under the Trump administration’s punitive health care policies that include cracking down on access to coverage for patients who are in the country without permission.” The county housing Glenn Medical Center went for Trump 2:1. FAFO.

The problem with writing this off as FAFO and moving on is that thinking people know the reciprocal and collateral effects of rural hospitals shutting down. Beyond the simple impact that those citizens will now need to travel further for healthcare, their healthcare will decline. It’s inevitable. To travel further, they’ll need to take more time off from work. Most will resist doing that, resist making those trips. That’s often how the human mind works. They’ll hold off for whatever rationalizations they fed themselves and then it will be too late for some. Unemployment will climb as these hospitals and medical centers close. The lack of such facilities will make these communities less attractive for living and business opportunities. What company will want to move a factory there, when basics like medical treatment is limited? The ironic center of all this is that they’re Trump voters and brought it on themselves by supporting Trump and his agenda. There’s no joy in seeing and knowing that. Just weariness.

Today’s song is by the Rolling Stones. This is a 1968 beat. “Sympathy for the Devil” focuses on human violence through Satan’s viewpoint. “Pleased to meet you. Hope you guess my name. But what’s puzzlin’ you is the nature of my game.”

I watched with glee while your kings and queens
Fought for ten decades for the gods they made
I shouted out, “Who killed the Kennedys?”
When, after all, it was you and me
Let me please introduce myself
I’m a man of wealth and taste
And I laid traps for troubadours
Who get killed before they reach Bombay

h/t to Genius.com

So now we shout out, who killed Charles Kirk? When after all, it’s you and me, and our polarized, paralyzed government. Pleased to meet you.

On to a ‘new day’. Coffee has blessed my taste buds. May grace and peace find us all. Cheers

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Flooflogism

Flooflogism (floofinition) – Deductive reasoning animals employ through a series of cascading observations and conclusions. Origins: Middle Flooflish floogisme, from Anglo-Floof floofogisme, from Flooftin floofgismus, animal calculating.

In Use: “Using flooflogism, Rebel concluded, everything looks like food, I like to eat food, so I’ll eat everything, and began munching on a slipper.”

In Use: “Messup’s flooflogism inspired her to always jump to the highest place she can, so one could never easily spot her and always had to search the highest, most unimaginable places.”

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Wenzdaz Theme Music

Sunny has unfolded from the origami clouds. Rain pestered us with brief spitting contests. Overnight had autumn drag more of its influence in. Chillier air presides. Rain is expected. Currently 66 F with sunshine and clouds mixing it up, 72 F is our projected high.

I spoke to Dad this morning. Loopy with drugs, he wasn’t himself. I told him that I’d passed on his situation to Mom. Mom’s response was, “Tell that rat bastard that I hope he gets well soon.” Dad laughed over that. ‘Rat bastard’ is Mom’s affectionate handle for Dad.

Bad news came in about Andy, another hospitalized friend. If you thinkback, Andy was taken to the hospital a week ago after beer with friends. After falling in the street earlier that day, he was complaining of pain. Turned out he’d fractured his hip. So, he went through surgery, was removed to a rehab place, etc. All was going well. Last night, he got out bed and fell again, this time breaking his hip. It was back to surgery and the hospital. We understand that he’s under sedation at this point.

I met with my surgeon yesterday. While he’s a ‘general surgeon’, he’s done thousands of gallbladder surgeries and specializes in them. We went over expectations and my situation and set a date for November 5. It would have been sooner but I postponed it to travel east for Mom’s 90th BD do. I liked the surgeon. He was patient and affable and spent a lot of time talking with me, relating his own gallbladder removal a few years ago. He’s also a big fella. Two or three of me could’ve stood in his pants. I think I came up to his belly button. With all that, he also has an identical twin brother, who’s a surgeon in Montana. His younger brother is a surgeon who just moved into the area to practice. I wondered if he came from a family of surgeons. No, Dad was a dentist and Mom was an elementary school teacher.

I didn’t spend any time with the news this morning, busying myself with other matters. Today’s music is by Ed Sheeran. “Thinking Out Loud” occupied the morning mental music stream as I reflected on aging. I wasn’t thinking just of my aging, but of everyone. It’s a delicate and reflective song, fit for a delicate, reflective morning that shimmers with fading summer.

Coffee has anointed my tongue again. Hope grace and peace flowers for us today and every day. Cheers

5

Floofsoundpretation

Floofsoundpretation (floofinition) – Ability to hear animal activities and discern what they’re doing, based on the sound. Predominantly applies to housepets. Origins: Floofmany (located in Germany), first noted in Germany letters in the 1880s.

In Use: “Living with cats all of her life made Anita well-versed in floofsoundpretation, and as soon as she heard a light thump, she shouted, “Misty, you better get off that kitchen counter right now,” then nodded as a subsequent thud revealed that Misty had jumped down.”

1

Twozdaz Theme Music

Howdy, sports fans. It’s Twozda, September 9, 2025. 62 degrees F holds forth in Ashlandia. Marbled clouds headline the moment. Never fear: it’s going to move to 69 degrees F by the day’s end, although we may need to navigate more thunder and rain while we get there. Feels like autumn has got its dandruff up and is out to end summer’s hold on Ashland.

Yesterday early afternoon found us with a huge downpour. People rushed into the coffee shop bursting with news about how intense, sudden, and cold the rain was. Brief was added to its description as the rain ceased after ten relentless minutes.

Then, 2:30 AM. A sound is covering the house. My sleepy mind thought it was a giant fan. Asking, what fan is that, I roamed through the house and realized, that giant fan sound was rain hissing down with Biblical efforts. I returned to bed and sleep only to awaken a while later to my wife in the kitchen getting water.

A sharp, high squeal noise had awakened me. I asked my wife if she’d heard it. “It’s raining,” she said.

I listened. “It stopped.”

“No, it’s still going.”

Papi and I went out back to prove the rain was stopped. It was. Cool breezes swept by with friendly helloes. Moonlight bright enough to walk on broke out. Rain clouds were splitting up and racing away in different directions, leaving a starry dark gray feast for my eyes. “This is nice,” I said. Papi didn’t disagree.

After I was back in bed, a sound like a brassy chord being strong on an electric guitar awakened me. “What the hell was that?” The Neurons asked the dark room. Nobody was giving any answers about noises.

Dad remains hospitalized. Not much can be done about a fractured pelvis. He’s due to be moved to a rehab center today. Andy is also being moved to a rehab center to help him recover from his hip fracture. Sis is mum about her medical procedure and its results.

Gritting my teeth and swallowing my GRRRRR, I peruse the news. Trump is suing the WSJ and anyone attached to the story about his ‘alleged’ birthday card/notes to Epstein. I’m sure Trump is betting that the story will be withdrawn and apologies issues. Meanwhile, he donated the Bible his mother presented to him in his boyhood to a Bible Museum. The net responded with laughter and mocking about the Bible. Most doubt that Trump opened his Bible, read it, and went to church, except for publicity when it suited his needs.

More attacks have been carried out in several wars. None of the war reporting arrives with a sense that the fighting is going to end soon. The major aggressors, Russia and Israel, are well past reasonable lines about their intentions. All can see that Russia will not stop until it has Ukraine. Israel won’t stop until Hamas are all dead. Neither nation displays concern or empathy for the innocents they’re killing.

Economic news will take over today’s media top spots. 911,000 fewer jobs were created between April 2024 and March 2025, BLS says. US job growth through March was significantly weaker than previously thought. Economists and analysts are telling us that it means the jobs markets was even worse than realized. A large downward revision was expected, with many citing sampling errors resulting from declining survey responses, weaker-than-inferred job creation at new firms, and adjustments related to asylum-seekers and other undocumented workers. The pandemic’s impact on the global labor market and residual adjustments were also blamed. Trump’s WH thinks that it proves Trump was right, the Biden economy was a disaster, and the BLS reporting is broken. That’s certainly puzzling, isn’t it: the Trump Regime is depending on a system they claim is broken to prove they’re right. Classic MAGAt non-thinking.

All this has culminated in The Neurons’ song choice for my morning mental music stream. It stormed in Ashland, with more storms coming. Trump is riding a storm of criticism about Jeffrey Epstein. We the People are riding through the storm of data about what’s going on with the economy. Hence, The Neurons summoned The Doors and “Riders on the Storm”.

Coffee has dropped in for an extended visit. May grace and peace visit and stay with us all for a while. Here we go again. Cheers

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