The cool night air feels like autumn. But a summer sun gets up and flexes. Blue skies clear of cloud debris help. It’s about 60 F now but we’ll cruise into the low to mid 80s F today.
It’s not just the temperature that informs on the warring seasons. Trees are shifting their leaves. The sun’s approach comes through the southeastern windows in the dining room, then leans back toward the east as the sun clears mountains and trees. Yes, it’s Wenzda, September 17, 2025, and autumn is coming.
I spoke with Dad yesterday. He sounded much better. As he probably wouldn’t survive surgery, he’ll need to recover from his fall injuries through rest and time. He told me that they project that will take six to eight months. In the meantime, he can’t put any weight on his left foot due to the pain it causes.
Today’s music comes from pulling threads. First, I was pulling threads on a dream, asking what a cheetah in a dream means. Then I pulled threads on the plot and characters in a novel in progress. Out of all that came No Doubt’s 1995 song, “Just A Girl”. I see exactly why The Neurons pulled the song into the morning mental music stream after entangling with the Writer and Dream Neurons.
In political news, Trump is in Europe. Well, UK. Polls show he’s growing tres unpopular. That, along with his increasing instability, which we’ve repeatedly witness, will cause him to lash out more and pretend more, like he did when releasing another image of himself as a superhero, which is 180 degrees from who he is. TACO will abuse his office of power more, threaten his enemies and allies more, and tell us all how great and wonderful he is, that he’s our favorite president. Deep down, he knows he’s a piece of garbage but doesn’t care because, thanks to being POTUS, he’s growing richer and more powerful. Some think he worries excessively about the Epstein files being released. I speculate that he knows all the soft and hard data on the economy is pointing to an ugly truth, that he was wrong, and he’s going to be proven wrong, and as that happens, even his most staunch supporters will quietly abandon him.
Coffee is dashing through my bod, delivering its caffeine goodness. Hope you make acquiantance with peace and grace today and it turns into a long relationship. Here we go, into the great wide open. Cheers
We begin September’s back-end slide today. It’s Twozda, September 16, 2025. Summer is ratcheting up efforts to stem autumn’s influence by hurling blue skies and sunshine at Ashlandia. 72 F now, 92 plus is expected.
Today’s headlines are familiar fodder. Trump continues to protest about how innocent right wingers are while railing against everyone else. He dismisses all others as left-wing radicals, etc. Meanwhile, he makes it all worse with perpetual lies. The one blowing us out of the water this week is his claim that drugs killed over 300,000,000, almost the entire U.S. population. Quite the whopper! He deployed that lie to defend his decision to murder more people at sea under the guise of defending the U.S., all without offering evidence or using any due process. He’s in an ‘half with their head’ mode, which doesn’t do much for We the People in places like Memphis, where he’s sending more national guard troops. “Hurrah,” MAGALand and the GOP cry, gleefully clapping. “Trump is destroying democracy, usurping the law, wrecking the education system, turning us into a theocracy expressing against our founders’ warnings, and destroying our economy and personal freedoms! Good for us!”
Trump is also suing the NYTimes for defamation for $15 billion dollars, an amount announced with an evil smirk. Trump loves suing others, especially the press when they spill the coffee about his past and the many unsavory things he’s done. Trump thinks himself a golden boy, and then worries about what the Epstein file says about him and tries to write it off as a hoax.
Donald Trump with his then girlfriend, along with Epstein and Maxwell.
Trump is also interested in doing away with quarterly earnings reports. “Did you ever hear the statement that, ‘China has a 50 to 100 year view on management of a company, whereas we run our companies on a quarterly basis??? Not good!!!’” Trump said.
We don’t ‘run’ companies on a quarterly basis in the U.S.; results are reported in a quarterly and annual format. I especially like the 50 to 100 year view comment. Let’s see, 100 years ago, 1925. They were probably planning for computers to emerge and the digital age, weren’t they? Planning for cars to take over the landscapes, planning to find and start mining the rare elements now used.
Or, if they were really smart, they were studying the data and trends to counter climate change, right? Looking down the barrel toward needed changes, they were focusing on more sustainable energy and ways to reduce pollution, because pollution has been found to make people sick and drive up costs while reducing productivity.
We know the truth behind Trump’s proposal. Facts and figures aren’t his friends. He likes making things up, like his weight, or how many people died from drugs, or how he’s reduced inflation by ten gazillion percent. He’d preferred that metrics which could reveal economic struggles get buried and never mentioned. Look how he fired the messenger when the BLS numbers showed a worsening labor market. Witness how he’s gutted the government to do less reporting and did away with Inspector General units and watchdogs. Note how he has scammed again and again on taxes and loan applications. No, truth is not his friend, and nor are hard numbers and facts.
We’re also heading toward a government shutdown. I’m in favor of Democrats not supporting any resolution to keep the government functioning without some heavy safeguards about appropriations and spending. It’s a reluctant position, but. Trump has shown that once the budget is set, he’ll do what he wants, usually to the detriment of We the People. This divisive man has also said he doesn’t care what Democrats want, Democrats who represent over half the nation’s population. But that is soooo Trumpy. He has repeatedly defecated on all things Constitutional and the laws and government norms and traditions. He’s ignoring courts and kicking aside the checks and balance system that worked for several hundred years. He can’t be trusted. So why would you work with someone who can’t be trusted, someone who only cares about himself? They’d be a fool to do so. And yes, shutting down the government will cause huge shockwaves. Maybe such shockwaves are needed to wake people up.
I awoke with Marcy’s Playground performing “Sex and Candy” in my morning mental music stream. The song related to a lengthy dream and fits right in. The song has a lazy dream quality for me about falling into a mental labyrinth of aimless, drifting speculation, and then suddenly coming out of that to the setting around you. “And there she was.”
Coffee has delivered its caffeine to my receptors. Hope peace and grace find you and carries your through the rest of the year. Cheers
Munda, September 15, 2025, has settled in against a backdrop of clear blue skies and warm sunshine. Summer is hanging on, taking us from overnight lows in the lower fifties to an 85 F high. All things end, though, and summer’s last days are coming on in the northern hemes.
I spoke to Dad this morning. He’s still in the rehab center. His voice was not strong. This latest ordeal really seemed to suck his life energy out of him. But…it might also be that he had just gotten out of a very hot shower and said he was sleepy. On a more positive side, my wife seems over her illness. She ate yesterday, picked up a book and read, and went to exercise class this morning.
Had a storm of dreams again last night. Went from being in the military trying to get a haircut to being in charge of a process with IBM and ISS, the Internet security companies where I worked, to recover and shut down security equipment. The latter was a messy, disorganized affair, and no one had done anything, so I was taking it on. Out of the blue toward the end, three young women, teenagers, really, appeared to help me with the computers. They weren’t much assistance at first, as they lacked knowledge but they were eager and energetic. With their help, I began wrangling the mess into something bearing some coherency.
Back to some rock ‘n roll for Munda. I was singing “Honky Tonk Kitty” to Papi this morning after he chirped appreciation for the food being delivered to him. Naturally, my song inspired The Neurons to fire up memory of the Rolling Stones tune in the morning mental music stream, as it’s quite similar to what I was singing.
Today’s project is about getting tree branches cut back from the neighboring apartment complex. I’d do it but realized that some of the branches are higher than my reach, even if I’m standing on a pile of books on top of a ladder where they tell you not to stand because it’s unsafe. I’ve reached out to the apartment complex to start a dialogue about my needs and intentions. They were out of office, so I left a message. Next steps would be to talk with them and then get estimates and get ‘er done.
Hope peace and grace find and lift you up today and every day. Coffee is doing some heavy lifting in me today. Time to bounce on into the day. Cheers
So we have come to another Sunda. This is September 14, 2025. Thirty days hath September (just checked in my head), so tomorrow reaches the month’s halfway point. With the month’s end, we dip into 2025’s final quarter. It’s 65 F. Rain is in the clouds competing with the sunshine. Wind and trees are into a brisk dance.
Autumn is making solid inroads into our Pacific Northwest outlook. Today’s high will drift toward the mid seventies. My wife said, “I don’t mind it if the temperature drops but I dislike it when it’s so dark in the morning. I miss the morning light.” I totally get that and agree. As she went on to point out, the daylight savings situation doesn’t help, with us facing longer hours of early darkness as we begin our days.
My wife and I are trying to plan a trip back home for Mom’s 90th birthday do. However, my spouse said she experienced flashes of light in her eyes the other day as we went around Crater Lake and descended. She wants to have our eyes checked for problems before committing to flying. She’s not had incidents since that day, a week ago yesterday, and it was storming that day, with thunder and lightning. But she’s quite risk adverse. Having her eyes checked is the prudent thing to do.
I read a Politico piece titled,Trump loves AI, and the MAGA world is getting worried. It’s an interesting topic. I’m not surprised MAGA is generally against AI, as they tend to be people who dislike change and are slow to embrace technology. AI promises both fast change, and it’s advanced technology. Of course, Hollywood and television has fed us a dystopian diet of dire developments from AI. We have fears laced with worries baked into our cultural soul.
Other than that, I turned away from the news. It’s Sunda, a slow news day by design in the digital age. It’s more of a day of recap and reflection. I decided I’d do the same. I don’t know how the rest of the world does these things, but I’ll do it with a cuppa coffee, do some writing, read a book, clean, and converse with my wife. It feels like a good chillin’ day.
I dreamed of many cats last night. As I was digesting all that nocturnal churn, Papi and I went out for an early dose of sunshine and deep breathing. That ginger floof acted kittenish, galloping about, tail swishing, and then bounding into the house and across the rooms as I walked in behind him and laughed at his antics. With the sunshine and Papi’s attitude affecting them, The Neurons burst into the morning mental music stream with “Beautiful Day”. This is a U2 song from 2000, before this mess in America flared to its aggravating proportions. I played a U2 melody yesterday. Normally, I don’t present music from the same group two days in a row but this one worked for the moment, and I let Der Neurons’ choice stand.
Coffee has made incursions into my body. May grace and peace be with you and me and the world today and always. Cheers
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.
Oppressive humidity is doing in the morning. Not overly high humidity in the general sense. We’re just not used to humidity here.
It’s Frida, September 5, 2025. Temperature is 72 F but it feels warmer and less comfortable due to the humidity. We’ll peak in the low 90s today, unlike yesterday, when we clashed with 97 F.
My sister-in-law and her boyfriend arrived. Although they came in from Florida, they weren’t prepared for the heat. They’d been on the coast, then went inland to see the redwoods, and talked about the 30-degree temperature change they experienced in a short time and distance. The boyfriend, a year or two my senior, then asked as we walked around, “Can we go to somewhere with air-conditioning and sit down for a pint?” He’s an amiable individual. An engineer, we discovered that he and I grew up in Pittsburgh suburbs about four miles of each other. We’re both Steeler football fans. Besides three pints, he drank a tumbler of scotch during the space of dinner and the next two hours.
They’re sleeping in this morning after doing a lot of driving and traveling over the past three days. Once they call, we’ll take them somewhere local for food and then do local sightseeing.
I saw the jobs report this morning. Funny that firing the BLS person responsible for the last dismal jobs report didn’t change the dismal numbers. Just 22,000 jobs added. Oh, my. Not looking good for Trump’s economy. These hard numbers are backing up the anecdotes we’re hearing about business chains closing locations, small and medium businesses shuttering their doors, layoffs being announced. Lots of FAFO stories emerging. Of course, that could be the news services which I frequent catering to my interests and attitudes, at least to some degree. I try vesting such info as best as I can but that’s a challenge in this digital era.
Today’s music arrived from a confluence of events. One, Papi and I were out last night. I first was checking the moon, then looking for spaceships. Papi accompanied me. I’m not sure what he was checking out. Then, I dreamed that I was cooking. The meal was coming out looking good and smelled good. It was being done in this strange little apartment. But as I was cooking, several Russians stopped by. They were mostly talking to my wife but also addressing questions to me. This annoyed and distracted me.
The net of this, as I recalled last night and the dream, is that The Neurons rose up with a Jackson Browne song called “Lawyers in Love”. A satirical song about U.S. politics, consumerism, and U.S. pop culture, its lyrics feature both Russians and spaceships. I enjoy the song, but many friends thought it odd when it came out. Of course, that’s precisely why I enjoyed it.
I can’t keep up with what’s been going on I think my heart must just be slowing down Among the human beings in their designer jeans Am I the only one who hears the screams And the strangled cries of lawyers in love
God sends his spaceships to America, the beautiful They land at six o’clock and there we are, the dutiful Eating from TV trays, tuned in to Happy Days Waiting for World War III while Jesus slaves To the mating calls of lawyers in love
Last night I watched the news from Washington, the capitol The Russians escaped while we weren’t watching them, like Russians will Now we’ve got all this room, we’ve even got the moon And I hear the U.S.S.R. will be open soon As vacation land for lawyers in love
I find it humorous and love the musical flourishes which reflect different eras of pop music.
Time to rock and roll another day away. Hope that grace and peace finds and guides you. Have the best Frida possible. Cheers
In the first dream, I was traveling with friends and my wife. A small group, I don’t know the travel’s purpose nor the means. At one point, we encountered a storm. Seeking refuge, we found a house. The house unlocked. We went inside. It was solid, warm and comfortable, but completely unfurnished. There was one book in there. A soft-cover trade book, it was open to a page.
We decided we’d stay there and outwait the storm. Meanwhile, we each went by and checked out the book. I don’t recall any name, title, or colors associated with it. But when we each read the book, we discovered it was different for each of us. I thought it was a thriller/adventure. Someone else thought it was a cookbook. Another deemed it a book of poetry. I read through the book quickly but when I came back to look at it again, it was a different book. It looked exactly as it had and was still open to a page, but its contents were completely different.
We’d stayed in the house longer than planned. Although no food was there, we didn’t get hungry. In fact, we were all in very good moods. Despite the lack of furniture, we were well rested. But we decided to move on if the weather was good. The weather was good. After going out and looking around, I realized we were in a different location. Another noticed that the season was changed. Trying to figure out what was going on, we went back into the house. Through testing and talking, we concluded that the house was a time machine and also moved through space. (Yes, like Doctor Who‘s TARDIS, except this was a house, not a phone box.)
A young couple, people we didn’t know, arrived. Like us, they were taking refuge from a storm, We decided not to tell them what we’d learned, to see what they discovered on their own. Then we’d compare notes.
Dream end.
In the second dream, my wife and I were sitting at a small metal table by the side of a road. Another woman was with us. We were chatting. The table was right off the road’s shoulder and the road was lousy with traffic. At one point, my wife saw a big box truck coming. As it went by, she said, “Oh, there’s the artichoke man. I want to catch him and tell him something.”
Leaping up, she ran after the truck. I was wondering if she caught him and what she was telling him, when a second artichoke truck, identical to the first, roared up the road. This was on a hill and a tight curve. He was going way too fast. The driver slammed on his brakes. He went into a skid and fishtailed hard into a hillside. My wife’s body went flying through the air. She landed on some rocks on her back, her head dangling backwards, unmoving.
I leaped up. A car went by, down the hill, oblivious to the scene. Shouting at the person at the table, “Call 911, call 911,” I looked up the hill. People were running to help the truck driver and another car involved in the accident. I sprinted toward my wife, thinking, I’ll check for her pulse and look for breathing, but I don’t think I should move her.
I’m dealing with sludge in my gallbladder. Basically, my bile has thickened. Some of it has likely turned to gallstones. These gallstones have apparently blocked some of my bile ducts. This results in my gallbladder spasming when it tries to deliver bile upon demand from the intestines. That spasm causes more pain than I felt from my kidney stones a few years back. The short-term solution is to avoid red meat and dairy fats, foods and substances that need more bile to break down for digestion. Long-term, they want to remove my gallbladder.
Last night I dreamed that I was with a young white woman. She wore a white toga clipped over one shoulder. I never got a name and didn’t look much at her.
My attention was focused on the scene before me. It seemed like a large model of organs. “What is this?”
She replied, “That’s your gallbladder and liver. See, there is your bile.”
Leaning over to examine it more closely, I took in the many pebbles in the sludge that was my bile. “You made a model of my gallbladder and liver and filled it with sludge?” I was amazed and amused.
“No, these are your actual parts.”
As I digested that with surprise, she said, “Now watch.”
Hand flat and open, palm down, she swept it slowly around my organs. As she did, all the pebbles just vanished. My bile turned from sludge into something more fluid.
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:
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
Michael Seidel, writer 