Category: food

Sundaz Theme Music

Greetings from Cape Perpetua. Two miles south of Yachats, Oregon, Cape Perpetua is part of the coast range, the Siuslaw. We visited this morning after breakfast. Breaky was again at a favored eatery, The Green Salmon. My choice was a “Only Murder” sausage (plant-based) and Just Egg omelet with red peppers and vegan Swiss and cheddar cheeses and rye toast. Awesome.

The view from Cape Perpetua overlooking the Pacific, where the weather stole the blue. August 24, 2025, about 12:30 PM. If you look closely, a road is spotted. That’s Highway 101. Runs all along the Oregon Coast and then goes into California to points south. Above/east of 101 is the Visitor Center. We hit it next.

It’s Sunda, August 24, 2025. Beat down by fog and wind, 64 was the day’s high. Still lovely. The casa’s regular routine has us punching back into our dwelling at 3ish. We then become the napping dead or silence is ordained by people reading books. After reading, I sucked in coffee and went on a brisk beach walk. The path was mostly mine as everyone shunned a chilly, damp wind. Now we’re settling in for dinner. Cooking rotates. Tonight’s chef is making salmon burgers with chips and guacamole. Dessert is chocolate ice cream, fruit, or fondue.

Today’s music is “Tightrope” by Stevie Ray Vaughn and Double Trouble. I don’t know why The Neurons called this up during my pre-breakfast stroll. Mine is not to question why, just sing along and go for the ride.

Coffee and wine have been imbibed. Hope peace and grace find and hold you today and every day. Cheers

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Mundaz Theme Music

Lousy photo from a lousy phone from our third-floor balcony.

Good morning from the Oregon coastal town of Florence. It’s just an overnight stop for us. We’re moving on to Yachats today.

It’s Munda, August 18, 2025. We’re sitting at sunny and 58 F with aspirations for the mid 60s. It’s 8 AM now. An hour ago, four people and ten dogs were on the beach Now, one lone walker marches alongside the rambunctious waves. Breakfast is first on our agenda. No sooner had we finished dinner last night when my wife pulled out the hotel’s breakfast menu and asked “What’s calling you for breakfast.” I find that what are we going to eat, where are we going to eat, and when are we going to eat, are often topics while on vacation. After eating, it’s to the beach for a walk, Old Town for shopping, and then we point the car north for the main vacation piece.

Seeing fishing boats out on the water, The Neurons were weakly inspired to put forth songs about sailing. While a number of song snippets rotated through the morning mental music stream, “Come Sail Away” by Styx won. I think it was by pure volume.

Coffee is sailing through my body. Hope fair winds bring you peace and grace today and every day. Cheers

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The Water Dream

So there I was…

I’d turned on the water, apparently to water the lawn, a problematic decision because snow and ice loaded the land. I realized all that when I went back and discovered that everything was flooded by a couple inches because I’d left the water on. People were looking out their windows like genuine looky lous. I could hear them commenting, telling each other, “Oh, poor Michael. Look at him. What’s wrong with him?”

The house where I turned on the water belong to Mom. So I figured I needed to turn off that water and reimburse her for what was sure to be an expensive water bill. I had a small paper bag with some money in it, but first things first: I was naked. I needed to dress. I had clothes. Most of it was very fancy. So I dressed out there in the flooded yard in front of the watching neighbors, first with undies, then with a pressed pink dress shirt, finally black dress pants.

Before I could get to my shoes, I saw Mom and accosted her. Her children, my sisters, were with her, as young children. I explained about turning the water on and leaving it on, and that I owed her, so I wanted to give her some money. Reaching into the bag, I pulled out a bundle of money, estimating it as $40,000, and gave it to Mom. She protested, “That’s too much,” but I insisted she take it.

She left and put on my shoes. As I finished that, ‘Dad’ approached. This father was a squat, chunky guy, no at all like my real father. Dressed in a black suit with a white shirt and short black tie, he wore a black bowler hat. I knew he was a drunk and was dismissive and scornful of him. He knew this but still approached, asking, “Can you spare ten dollars for me?” I knew he’d use it for booze but I said, “Yes, of course,” and ended up giving him $40. He profusely thanked me. I replied, “I can spare it.”

As Dad thanked me again and again and walked away, I opened my bag to get a sandwich and eat. As I pulled the sandwich out, I realized the bag was larger than first thought, and full of newly bundled money. As I gawked at the bundles of cash, I thought, there must be four million dollars in there.

Dream end.

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Books and pastries and coffee, oh my!

Daily writing prompt
If you were going to open up a shop, what would you sell?
View all responses

My wife and I have often spoken about opening a book store. But we also like coffee shops, so we amend our play place to be a coffee shop and book store. But I also like deli sandwiches, so…

Yes, in my perfect world, I’d own a three-headed hydra shop selling books, coffee (with pastries), and sandwiches. We’d be playing the blues in there, because coffee shops and blues go together in my mind. Of course, I’ve owned a couple businesses and know, they are not easy work, so I ease away from pursuing the dream. Besides, as my wife likes to relate, someone who owns a book store shouldn’t love books, they should love selling books.

That takeway was from the owner of our favorite book store, Powell’s Books in Portland, Oregon. And whenever we talk about opening a book store, we remind ourselves of what he said.

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The Health Update

Like many things I post, it’s both me celebrating myself and my minor victories, but it’s also just sharing my experiences because they might help others. In this case, I’m writing about my gallbladder adventures.

Back on July 6, I had extreme abdominal pain. Went to ER. After tests and talking and examinations, turns out my bile was sludge and my gallbladder spasmed. Further testing was done, ruling other things out. I’m set up to see a vascular surgeon a couple months from now.

I researched what to eat and not to eat. Two weeks later, I mindlessly ate two butter mini-croissants and launched another gallbladder adventure. Didn’t hit the ER because the pains and feelings all dupicated what I’d had before. Just downed the anti-nausea stuff they’d given me and half a pain killer, twice.

Learning from that, I went from being ‘watch-your-sodium-and-fat’ casual to being ruthlessly anti-fat and anti-sodium. With further research, I readjusted my anti-fat stance and adjusted it to consume fats in olive oil and avocados, along with a few others. These were good fats, which might help unsludge my bile.

Meanwhile, others in netland had shared their gallbladder experiences and I took away some lessons. Now I swear by Manuka honey and peppermint tea. Both of them subdue my bile and gallbladder when they get cantankerous. That’s happening less and less frequently.

In parallel, I’ve sought additional ways to unsludge my bile. To that end, I’ve been using milk thistle, Arctic Cod Oil, NAD, and Ashwagandha every day. While medical trials and studies haven’t embraced these as helpful, I feel like they have as my symptoms diminish. Of course, I’ve been super diligent about what I eat and drink, too. And, of course, I might have a panacea effect from them.

While doing those things, I increased my hydrating, and found and ate more fibrous foods, like adding flax seed to my morning oatmeal or buckwheat. I’ve eaten some skinless grilled chicken but no other meat. I have increased my salmon intake. I eat less, always abstaining from ‘eating until feeling full’ and eschewing second courses, treats, and desserts. Dairy-based butter is an absolute no-no but plant-based butter products are okay. Full fat cheese is off the menu, and I suppressed eating any cheese, just on principle. I walk away from my plate, ignoring my inner Mom telling me to clean my plate. And, I exercise more. So now, I’ve lost ten pounds.

To deal with itching from the bile salts (they’re not 100% that this is what causes it), I turned to icing myselfly, repeatedly and abundantly. That worked to kill the need to scratch and the itching urges are ratching down in a strong trend.

Is it all working? Seems to be. Could be. Or maybe I’m fooling myself. As with so many things along life’s spectrum, time will tell.

4

Satyrdaz Theme Music

Last night was beautifully clear and cool.The temperature dropped into the 50s. We were rewarded with a coolly comfortable house in the morning, third day in a row. I credit the skunks for some of that. We usually open our windows at night, and our doors for a few evening hours, to naturally cool the house. Skunks, though, were getting busy at eleven at night, releasing their odor and forcing us to shut the windows. The skunks have taken an August recess. Hope they’re not ending it soon.

Today is Satyrda, August 9, 2025. It’s 75 F now, feels 85 F, and is going to reach 91. Tomorrow, we stalk the century zone again. I think about how pleased I am that I used the cool stretch to get outside work accomplished. The flip of that is, while I was doing that work, I discovered — or sometimes, re-discovered — other work to be done at there. I’m bristling about it a little now because today and tomorrow are swamped with calls for other activities, like a memorial service for a friend. There’s too many of those things going on.

We’re going on vacay, too. Detailed planning plagues the days leading up to our planned departure. Food is the subject. We’re sharing a house with two other couples. Those four are a decade plus older than us. We all live under food restrictions. No this and that. I now have my own list. They all want to cook in the rented home. That’s apparently part of their vacation ethos: “Let’s go away and cook.”

Each couple is to provide dinner one night. We’re on our own for breakfast and lunch. My wife and I have a surprise dessert planned, a vegan fondue smorgasbord.

As I sat reading news and sipping my coffee, my wife said from her part of the office, “We don’t need to worry about him. He’s golfing today.”

“Not true,” I answered. “Thanks to modern technology, he can text something or call someone and launch a new round of craziness.”

Although we never said his name, we’re talking about the human wrecking ball named Trump, who is also known as TACO. My wife and I share some laughs over FAFO stories, like the Trump Burger guy who ICE picked up and plans to deport, Roland Mehrez Beainy. Beainy responds to the claims against him, “Ninety percent of the shit they’re saying is not true.” Well, that’s probaby so. This is the TACO regime. They’re addicted to lying, just their leader, TACO himself.

Shifting tones, my wife and I are angry about reports of how big tech is helping the TACO Regime. Apple’s investments, and Tim Cook’s gold offering to Trump sicken us. Amazon Web Services gave Trump a billion dollar discount. Gag, groan. Google slashed cloud services for the TACO Regime. OpenAI is giving Trump’s agencies access for $1 per year. Ordinarily, I’d think, look how great this is, with these companies helping the United States. But they’re not helping the U.S. Nothing Trump does helps the U.S. It’s all about him. And these companies are bribing him to stay on his good side.

Today’s music is “Pride and Joy”. This is a 1983 rock blues offering by Stevie Ray Vaughn and Double Trouble. My wife and I are both fans of SRV & DT, and we enjoy this song. But I don’t understand any segue that leads from what I dreamed, thought, or observed that led The Neurons to pull this one out and slot it into the morning mental music stream. It’s just one of those brain things, I guess.

Coffee has been sucked up. Its off to the races. Hope grace and peace finds and keeps you. Cheers

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Thirstda’s Wandering Political Thoughts

I just want to note. Children are dying of starvation around the world, but most especially, most visibly, in Gaza. And the self-described ‘pro-life’ party in power, the ones who hounds every woman seeking an abortion with religious zeal while screaming about the sanctity of life is doing fuck all about the dying children. No, the greedy Republicans like Speaker Johnson and Donald Trump are focused on making money and saving money, and protecting Trump from the Epstein Files fall out and exposure as a pedophile.

As always, actions speak louder than words. The GOP’s actions scream with hypocrisy.

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A Happiness Dream

Sometimes a dream comes along that sparks happiness when you awaken and remember. So it was this morning, with four positive things happening to me in a dream last night.

  • I was given a chocolate cupcake
  • A major league baseball team signed me up a new pitcher
  • I signed a book deal with an agent
  • and I received a check for 33,000 dollars

Fun reviewing it all in the AM. The cupcake was dark and decadent. A stranger, female, gave it to me with a smile. She was going along, passing them out from a silver tray. The energy coming from her felt so positive, I never hesitated to eat it. And man, was it good. I offered some to my wife, but she declined.

I didn’t remember trying out for a baseball team, especially as a pitcher. As a young player, I had a strong arm but it was made more for the outfield than the mound. I got an email on my phone that it was probably going to happen: the Cincinnati Reds were going to sign me. Then a phone call was received that verified, yep, it was in the works. “Come in this afternoon to sign the paperwork.” My wife was on her phone when I tried to share that good news with her.

Then, though, after she was off her phone and I began telling her, I received another phone call. This was a literary agent. They’d read my manuscript, wanted to rep me, and already had a publisher eager to buy it. I was floored. As I jubilantly shared that with my wife, a man walked up and handed me a check for $33,000.

And that’s where the dream ended.

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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.

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Munda’s Wandering Thoughts

Here’s a hodge podge of things I’ve been thinking about this morning.

Food & Friends. We did our deliveries this morning. Half the route was canceled. That’s always worrisome. We don’t know what happened to those individuals. Fingers crossed, they’re okay. Okay is always a relative expression and has its own spectrum of meaning.

As I drove around, I wondered about the Big Beautiful Bill’s impact. The future is murky. Food & Friends is financed by a combo of state, local, and Federal coffers. Fed picks up the brunt, 65%. Fundraisers, private grants, and donations augment these monies.

From KFF and other online sources, F&F’s funds come via the Older Americans Act (OAA). This is administered through Health & Human Services and an agency called ACL, the Agency for Community Living . This is where it gets disorderly and messed up. Under Trump, the funding was withheld. H&HS is being reorganized. 10,000 positions have been terminated. I dislike using that euphemism, ‘layoff’. They were fired; terminated.

As with most things, the enshittification under Trump is striking here. “According to a recent HHS press release, ACL is releasing over $1 billion of Fiscal Year (FY) 2025 funding for Older Americans Act programs to state, local, and Tribal grant recipients – funds that had already been appropriated by Congress but withheld by the Trump administration.”

Researching my gall bladder issues, I realized I must give up yogurt and cheese. Sob. I’ll miss them more than steaks and burgers. Alas, I must also say farewell to pizza. And doughnuts. Lunch meat and bacon have been long gone. Butter is now gone, too. The list of what I can eat is getting short. I can still eat fruit and veggies, which I love. And nuts, as long as they’re unsalted, as my edema/lymph edema requires a low sodium diet.

A radio weather report said that thunderstorms were coming. We all reacted, “Oh, no.” Even the announcer was worried, adding to the report, “Hopefully, we won’t have a bunch of lightning strikes and fires.” Exactly. We’ve been fortunate so far this year.

Looking out the window, my wife said, “There’s not a cloud in the sky.” It’s a different picture, sixy minutes later.

‘Back home’ in Penn Hills, PA, a new plan has emerged for Mom. Mom is 89. She has multiple health issues. Trips to ER are regular as seasonal decorations being put up. She lives with her boyfriend, Frankie the Hand, 95 years old. At that age, he has problems of his own.

We the children have been agitating for her to move into assisted living and sell her home. Frankie’s children have been advocating the same. They have been adamant about not moving. Part of the issue is that Mom’s 1940s era home is three stories with narrow steps with steep rakes. A glide chair has been place between the main level and the upper bedroom level. To address that, Mom will move into the main level. The back deck will be converted to a bedroom. My brother-in-law, a plumber by trade, will do most of the work, aided by construction and electrician friends. Pat began the work today. It’s expected to be done in three weeks. It’s a noble plan but extremely flawed. It’ll buy some time but the fact is that Frank has cancer, he’s losing weight, suffering dizzy spells, blind in one eye, and getting deaf. That’s not a good description for a care-giver. We’ll see what happens.

As with everything, time will tell.

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