Category: childhood

Thirstdaz Theme Music

Thirstda, September 18, 2025, has landed on Earth. It’s a quiet one in Ashlandia, comfortable with low level aircraft humming, yard work, and cars and trucks busy on missions. 77 F, cloud cover is giving shade and humidity. Thunderstorm’s sullen weight presses down. Today’s high will be 79 F, and the air quality is 30, which is good.

It was a rockin’ night so I’m beginning late. After daring to eat three small pieces of cheese pizza during a going-away fete for a friend, my gallbladder leaped up in indignation at 5 AM. Puking and pain accompanied the passing hours. I bolted down a quarter of an oxy and an Ondansetron. Sleep played keep away. I didn’t get out of bed to anything past the bedroom until after noon, when the pains finished their kicks and let me alone.

While lying there, The Neurons filled the morning mental music stream with “I Heard it Through the Grapevine”. The Neurons alternated between Marvin Gaye’s offering and CCR’s long pop rock rendition. I’m playing both for y’all.

My friends and I briefly discussed Charlie Kirk’s life and death last night. I amused myself with a test, repeating what I’ve been hearing so often about Kirk trying to open dialogues and have conversations with the other side. My companions were shaking their heads before I was halfway through. “He was trying to control and manipulate facts and conversation,” I paraphrase them as saying. “He was muddying the waters about facts. And he supported Trump and brought young men into the Trump camp based on hate and lies.”

So, there we go. Meanwhile, we march on toward censorship as Trump flexes government power through agencies such as the FTC. The right wing, always willing to exercise hypocrisy, vociferously thumped liberals, progressives, and Democrats as cancelling others. Yet, here we are, with corporate toadies seeking FTC approval to merge and buy more entertainment and news outlets, bowing to Trump and firing folks. So it goes too at various companies. Point out what Kirk said at your employment peril. Echo his words and they cry, “Foul.” They’re purifying his image, granting him sainthood in the name of the father, son, and Donald Trump. Such enablers, firing people for speaking their minds, are as cheap and tawdry as the plated gold pieces in Trump’s Offal Office. Eventually, they’ll have a gold-plated little dictatorship. It’ll be called the United States but it’ll only resemble the founders’ vision in name. And those tawdry enablers will wonder, what the fuck happened. Fools.

Time to rock and roll. Hope peace and grace get here in time to save our nation. Hugs ‘n cheers to all, M

2

Well, It’s Obvious

Daily writing prompt
Share a lesson you wish you had learned earlier in life.
View all responses

I’ve not read others’ posts about lessons they wished they’d learned earlier in life yet. I wouldn’t be surprised if others express the same lesson learned which I learned, a lesson I’ve learned several times. It’s simple: trust yourself. Though I’m not the smartest or wisest individual, I need to trust my intelligence. Though not the most talented, trust my talents. Pay attention to the little voice when it’s trying to encourage me and pay attention when it’s warning me.

Pause, here, to note, I feel naked staking this claim, naked, vulnerable, egotistical, and needy. But I’m swallowing those things to push myself to be honest and open here, to share this so that others can take a lesson from my lesson.

My self-confidence was frequently smothered when I was young. I kept getting bludgeoned by a stepfather who told me I was stupid. He told me that all the time: “You’re stupid. You don’t think.” That recurring process eroded my self-confidence. I started shutting my mouth, retiring to a place to be stupid by myself, becoming a loner. I was and am comfortable as a loner, so that wasn’t that great a change. But my doubt about my potential was really a killer. Since I stayed quiet and didn’t participate in things, I constantly surprised classmates with high test scores, good grades, and accomplishments. When honors came my way later, people were astonished. Then, later, people nicknamed me ‘The Professor’.

Yet, I continued to doubt my skills and abilities. I still do. Everything I attempt requires not one but several pep talks. That usually accompanies procrastination until I build up the courage to make an attempt to myself out, to brace myself to be exposed as an imposter. It also causes me to overtry, which can also end in bad results. In short, like bunches of other people, I’m a headcase.

I have come a long way. Some minor successes have fed that. My wife’s trust in me has fed it, too. So have comments and support from friends and bosses. And teachers; my teachers often saw and cultivated good things in me, and I owe them a doubt too large to ever be fully repaid. I’ve been fortunate in that I have had good friends, good teachers, and good bosses. Despite them, I keep forgetting that lesson about myself. My self-confidence gets smothered again and again. I still hear my stepfather telling me, “You’re stupid.” I do keep learning the lesson that I’m not, but I wish I could keep that lesson in the forefront of my being: trust yourself. You’re not stupid.

You’re better than you imagine yourself to be.

2

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.

0

Satyrdaz Theme Music

We are socked in with fog in Yachats. No blue sky or sunshine has made their whereabouts known. 57 F now, a high of 65 F has been proclaimed as an afternoon promise. All this is much different from yesterday. Guess we were getting spoiled and things needed to be changed.

We played rousing and enthusiastic Mexican Train last night. The domino game has us enthralled. I was leading until like four hands from the end. Then my friend surged ahead and beat me by a few points. Nevertheless, I was delighted with winning four rounds. Gave me such a high.

After discussing politics and health matters, “Reflections of My Life” from 1970 was brought up into the morning mental music stream by The Neurons. Marmalade wrote and performed the reflective soft rock song. The group had other hits but I never owned any of their albums.

I stayed hooked on those lines, “The world is a bad place, a terrible place to live, oh, but I don’t want to die.” Sums up a lot of the inherent conflict in our many attitudes about life, death, commerce, and politics.

We’re planning a road trip up the road to the aquarium and greater coast exploration. Breakfast is being finished. We’re talking about a friend’s recent fast-food visit. He went into order and encountered a machine asking him for his order. A voice announced it was ready. He picked it up from a racked cart. Never encountered a person, which bummed him. He then went through the drive-thru next time. One person was encountered, to accept payment. I shared my imagination’s output: robotic arms putting the order together in the back, delivering a bag of food to a conveyor belt that carries it out to the customer.

I’m moving on wings of coffee. Hope grace and peace find a way to carry you through the day. Cheers

1

A Friend’s Tale

One of my co-vacationers is a retired schoolteacher. While his specialty and favorite were teaching six-graders, he taught a kindergarten class one year. One of the young students brought in his pet rat for show and tell. As the littles gathered around to ogle the rat, the teacher did a James Cagney impression, saying, “You dirty rat.” A child instantly leaned in and continued the Cagney impression, “You shot my mother.”

The teacher was flabbergasted. He asked the child, “Where did you learn that?”

The child replied, “That was in a Jim Carney movie.”

Of course, the Cagney quote never happened, except in the Jim Carney movie.

2

Fridaz Theme Music

And just like that, kits and kittens, it’s Frida again. Today is August 15, 2025. A cool one in Ashlandia, the mercury’s digital movement is pointing at the low 70s at the mo, but has plans to travel on to the mid 80s. Topping it with strong but not overly potent sunshine and blue skies o’er the mountains, and a recipe for a pleasant summer day has been found.

Several dreams are remembered from last night’s delivery. Talking to myself — because I was the only one there, having been abandoned by the cat (who ate and left without a sound) and the wife (who was off to exercise class) — I said, “I had too much to dream last night.” Then I laughed. But the laugh was on me as The Neurons supplied the morning mental music stream with the 1960s era Electric Prunes psychedelic song, “I Had Too Much to Dream Last Night”. Some friend of sis owned the record, so I heard it. The take on the title amused young me but I was more intrigued by the group’s strange name. It inspired me to imagine other possible names, such as the Gas Apples and Cherry Wash. Neither of those names ever caught on with a group, so far as I know.

I noticed some good news for Trump today. With economic data piling up showing prices are rising, polls are showing that Trump’s disapproval is also rising. Many more disapprove of Trump’s performance as he took over D.C.’s police force, sending in Federal law enforcement personnel. They’re a waste there, and people outside of Trump and his band of nattering nabobs knew it. They don’t like it. This is all good news for Trump, as it takes We the People’s mind off of Trump’s relationship with Jeffrey Epstein. The climbing disapproval ratings for Trump means that less people are vocally showering him with reminders that he promised to release the Epstein Files and the Epstein List, and that he’s broken that promise. The rising PPI, Producer Price Index, which shows the cost of making things jumping by 9 percent in July, is good news for Trump because it takes him off the hook for releasing the Epstein Files and revealing how much he’s implicated in some of the crimes that the convicted dead sex offender did.

Jeffrey Epstein with Donald Trump

For the record, my web page scramble this morning has a side serving of a USA Today story:

Trump approval rating round-up: Where does president stand in recent polls?

The article reports that the Pew Research Center’s survey has Trump at a new high in disapproval: 60%. Of course, all eyes are on Russia, I mean, Alaska — sorry, but Trump kept saying that he was going to Russia when his trip was planned to Alaska, so it’s just stuck in my brain — where Trump is meeting with Putin to discuss Ukraine. Trump thinks he’s all that and more now, since U.S. Republicans let him push them around. I don’t think Putin is quite the pushover. But Putin knows Trump and will let TACO crow and lie about getting a victory without getting a damn thing.

Coffee is flooding The Neurons, and they’re eagerly awakening. Time to rock another day. May grace and peace flow over your day’s endeavors. Cheers

0

Traditions?

Daily writing prompt
What traditions have you not kept that your parents had?
View all responses

When I saw the prompt, I laughed and wondered, what traditions? Then I thought about it more seriously.

Dad doesn’t have traditions. He and Mom divorced in the early sixties. I moved in with him when I was fifteen. Well, he did have two traditions in those years: partying and working. Still on active duty in the U.S. Air Force when I moved in, he also had a parttime job, running a base all-ranks club. I have never seen Dad cook. Nor have I seen him clean house. Both of those duties fell to me when I moved in. I confess: I went back home to Mom’s house for Thanksgiving and Christmas for the next few years. Then I graduated high school, joined the military, and was off in my own life.

Back at Mom’s house, traditions gravitated around Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving. I guess there was also traditions for Memorial Day and the 4th of July: we always grilled out. Mom’s Christmas traditions were digging out decorations, putting up a tree, and that sort of thing. Easter meant baskets for the children and baked home for dinner. Thanksgiving was a lavish meal, turkey with stuffing, a bunch of fixings, and apple and pumpkin pie with whipped cream for dessert.

Well, it’s just my wife and me. Married for fifty years, we never had children. We did make Easter baskets for each other for a while, but neither of us claim a religion or a belief in God. I was also a shift worker for the first dozen years of my military career and often worked on Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, etc. And my wife became a vegan over thirty-five years ago.

The bottom line is, my Dad had no traditions, and Mom’s were limited. Now we have a tradition of going to a friend’s house to celebrate spring. We all bring a dish, hunt for easter eggs, and play cornhole. Once a year during the summer, we go to a local lake and dance to a local band with friends. There were fifteen of us this year. For the 4th of July, we always go to Pam’s house for a potluck branch and to watch the parade. A friend opens their farmhouse for all of us on Thanksgiving, another potluck affair, but they always provide a turkey.

I guess we have a new tradition of finding friends and celebating with them.

0

Mundaz Theme Music

Mundaz slipped in during the sleep session. Now we’re basking under July 28, 2025, and a full sun spotlight. 70 F now, we’ll push into the low 90s today. No wildfire smoke tasks my sinuses today, for which I am pleased. Fires still burn, mind you, and I have my fingers crossed for those protecting us and those directly afflicted.

Bit of a hurry today. We’re out delivering food for Food & Friends. We always do a Monday. The route usually isn’t long, typically about thirteen houses and fourteen individuals. Most live in pleasant middle class homes but one is in a motel, two are in apartments, two are usually in senior living, and there’s sometimes someone in a mobile home. The list and route varies a little every time.

The Neurons coughed up “Tumbling Dice” by The Rolling Stones into the morning mental music stream. I don’t think it’s dream related. Doesn’t seem cat related. Could be driven by reading the news. Trump is always rolling the dice on shit, and mostly getting away with however they come up. As another said, I don’t trust anything his regime puts out as news. He’s trashed the truth and manipulated the systems and conned us all too many times to be given any trust, and that includes any organization which he heads. Sadly, that is now the Federal government and all of its executive agencies. Sadly, due to complacent Republicans, it also includes most of the legislative branch, and thanks to those R-holes in Congress, the SCOTUS. No, I’m not bitter or angry about it. Why do you ask?

Have a great Munda, if you can. I’m shooting for the same. Rock ‘n roll, baby. Cheers

2

Sunda’s Wandering Thoughts

It was a fascinating little play. Two young girls entered the coffee shop. Each in shorts and tank tops. Brown hair over their shoulders. Eleven and twelve, I thought with a measuring glance as I typed. They zipped to a table, pulling out chairs and sitting. One had a phone. She said, “Wait. Let me ask Mom.”

Deftly she thumbed a message into the phone. The younger child gazed around the shop as the older did this. In about a minute, the other said, “Mom said we can have ten dollars. She’s sending the money now.”

Seconds more came and went. “Got it,” the young girl in the red shorts said.

The two girls rose as one, passed to the counter and put in an order.

Modern life. Much different than what I’d experienced, back when I was eleven or twelve, collecting glass soda bottles to turn in and buy a treat. But then, look further back, to before there were glass bottles. Before we had stores offering ‘treats’ for sale. Before we, as children, wandered on such missions, which even now, is beyond starving children, even starving adults, elsewhere in the world.

Life really is a continually evolving spectrum of different existences even as we co-exist, together but apart.

0

Sunda’s Theme Music

Sunda, July 20, 2025, has entered the play. 73 F, summer is currently riding the norms in Ashlandia. A high of 90 F is expected and the sky is cloud-free blue. Smoke scents surf the wind, enough to be a smelly irritant but not enough to change the air quality or discolor the sky.

This is the Apollo 11 moon-landing anniversary. One giant leap, all that. Seems like it was last night that I sat in our Penn Hills wood-paneled basement game room, watching the news on the big color television as a 13 year old. Then I went outside and looked for the moon again. Seems like we progressed for a long time after that, but now as a nation, as a world of people, we’re falling backwards. Bummer to consider as my body curves into its 69th year. Of course, history slides on its own spectrum of peaks and valleys as nature and political wins and losses bend the trajectories. Time will tell what we’ll be remembering as history in 2075, and how a person like me will look back on it.

I perused this morning’s news with sighs. Flooding and deaths in South Korea, questions about Trump’s state of mental health, death and disaster in more places, lawsuits, etc. As far as Trump’s worsening gibbering, I don’t expect his loyalists to do anything about it because that would disrupt their power trips. That’s what it’s all about for enablers like Noem, Biondi, Kennedy, and the whole Project 2025 gang.

We went dancing yesterday. An annual thing, a troop of fifteen humans and one dog met on the shores of the Lake of the Woods Resort at 3 PM. Chatting, dancing, eating, we enjoyed being outside in sunshine, cooler air, smoke free air, enjoying Lisa & the Dynamics as they ably covered pop, rock, and country hits. Nice being away from the routines and the news for a few hours.

Today’s song comes from yesterday’s outing. “Everyone just have a good time,” was said and The Neurons said, “Kick it.” So, this morning has “Party Rock Anthem” by LMFAO from 2011 in the morning mental music stream. The song was a pretty big hit back then, was frequently heard via television and radio while I was traveling and running errands, but I haven’t heard it in a few years. Synth music, it’s made for dancing and has simple lyrics.

Back to Sunda I go. Hope you have the best day possible. That’s what I’m gunning for. Cheers

0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑