Thirstda’s Wandering Thoughts
A hard thwack burst from my hat’s brim as I walked along the sidewalk to the coffee shop.
What was that, was my immediate, natural reaction. I’d seen nothing bounce away so I immediately suspected, bird poop. As if confirming it, a large crow flapped away, cawing as if crowing in victory.
Entering the coffee shop, I removed my lid. Yep, I’d been nailed. I remember that some cultures consider this good luck.
It is said that the lucky bird poop belief has its origins in Russia. According to this superstition, good luck and financial fortune may come your way if a bird poops on you or your vehicle. Perhaps the reason for this myth is that the odds of being pooped on at any given time are so low.
I showed my friend and share what happened. He looked and laughed. “It’s a good thing you had a hat on, or it would have nailed your big forehead.”
He was right. That would have created a vastly different experience.
I guess an optimist could say that the bird poop was good luck, because I was wearing a hat when it hit.
Thirstda’s Theme Music
Disappointment is heavy in Ashlandia. A big storm was forecasted for us. It perversely excited us but then did not arrive. Perversely, people are disappointed. At least three posts on NextDoor and Facebook have people expressing their disapppointment that the storm did not come.
Well, it did a little. “I heard a thunk,” my wife says.
“Was that the rock on the front porch?” I noticed it when I came home.
She nodded. “Yes, I think the wind blew the top two rocks off the cairn. At least, I heard the thunk and locked out and saw the rocks and nothing else.”
Very circumstantial evidence. “I’ll put them back.” I must because she can’t balance them on the cairn. We don’t know why.
I’m disappointed, but not over the storm. I’d planned to weed around our hydrangea. Put it on my to-do list and everything. But she weeded. I’m happy the job is done but displeased that I wasn’t the one to do it. There are many more weeding opportunities. That’s little consolation.
Today is Thirstda, March 27 2025. Spring continues dancing with our expectations. We started out with a dispiriting cloud display. The sky was tiled dark and white. Showers fell. Now, it’s sunny and in the upper 50s F. More rain is expected. So is more sun. And warmer temperatures, along with colder temperatures.
Papi the ginger blade, commonly referenced as Butter Butt, is exhausted. Days of sunshine emboldened him to dash around like a one-year old. Now he’s sleeping like a kitten. Took up his favorite malabar chair seat in mid-morning, washed, and tucked the eyes shut.
He used the litter box for a bowel movement today. That’s unusual for him. He’s enormously fastidious about it. His scratching around was the clue. When he pees in the box, he steps in and then out. No scratching.
I told my wife about it. “This is literally the third time he’s used the litter box like that since Tucker passed,” I noted. “I think it’s because it was raining. He didn’t want to go in the rain and get his fur wet.”
The Neurons have lined up “Liar” by Three Dog Night in the morning mental music stream. Yes, this is a Trusk Regime production. Jonah Goldberg caught them in a security breach. He told them so. They spun it like he was a Democrat and a liar. Also pretended that it was nothing. No classified to see here, no sir. Then The Atlantic posted the transcripts. Hah. The leak was one thing; the attempted cover up is a mess. So, “Liar” it is.
Originally an Argent song — and you can hear their musical fingerprints all over it — Three Dog Night released their cover of “Liar” in 1971 and became another top twenty offering for the group in several nations.
Coffee has perked me up again. (Get it? Sure. You’re not slow.) Time to rock and roll. Cheers
Periflooftetic
Periflooftetic (floofinition) – An animal with a wandering or restless nature. Origins: Flooce, Middle Floof, and Flooftin, 15th century.
In Use: “Quinn was a long-haired and handsome periflooftetic, resting in a window seat one minute, asleep on a chair in the next, and outdoors in the back yard at the next glance.”
In Use: “Sleeping through the day, Braveheart the bulldog was a nocturnal periflooftetic, thumping up and down the stairs, padding along the halls, investigating every sound with a gruff grunt.”
Wenzda’s Wandering Thoughts
I saw a photograph of the blue spiral spotted in the night sky over Europe.
Turned out to be from a SpaceX rocket doing a fuel dump. Meanwhile, The Neurons in my head immediately turned to music, filling my mental music stream with a 1977 rock song by Journey called “Wheel in the Sky”.
Ooh, the wheel in the sky keeps on turnin’
I don’t know where I’ll be tomorrow
Wheel in the sky keeps on turnin’
h/t to Genius.com
For tomorrow.
Wenzda’s Theme Music
I’m sneezing this morning. Blowing my nose. Allergies, I think. Don’t try to tell me otherwise. Not yet. I’m awaiting other symptoms.
Our stretch of early spring sunshine is petering away. Clouds have already gathered to enjoy it, blocking blue sky views. Having eaten last night, my wife is up early, interrupting my ebb and flow. She’s watching video after video. Most are humorous. I treat it like I’m in the coffee shop and some idiot is watching their phone or playing a game or talking VERY LOUDLY ON THE TELEPHONE. I’m thinking about how to give the cat his blood pressure meds. He’s onto hiding it in a tube of Churri. I’ve had to double the Churri to get him to eat it. My wife mistakenly calls Churri chumley, so chumley is now its official household name.
This is Wenzda, March 26, 2025. It’s already 59 F and will reach 73 F. But winds are due starting at 11 AM. Some kind of storm is coming. Lightning, winds, rain, but most of that is further up north. We’re expecting some stuff, mostly wind and lower temperatures.
The Trusk Regime and GOTP inspired The Neurons’ song choice today. Donald Trump is doing a new dance called the Tariff Shuffle. ‘We’re gonna tariff the shit out of everybody. Starting today! No, tomorrow! Next week! No, today!’ I think he’s addicted to getting attention out of being like a guy on the corner shouting about the end of the world and his lost shoe.
Besides the Tariff Shuffle, we have a security leak and a bunch of disclaiming and denying that anything went wrong, along with classic blamethemessengeritis. That tactic was a major beltway flop.
Next up, we have judges and courts ruling against the Trusk Regime. They wail like a teething infant dropping its pacifier. The ol’ self-delared “Law & Order” party as personified by ‘good guy’ Mike Johnson thinks they should do away with judges and courts who rule against them. You know, as it’s put forth in the U.S. Constitution. As I understand it, the judicial branch was set up specifically as a check on the other two branches. So Johnson is proposing to undermine the Constitution by eliminating a check.
With that host of ideas bubbling in my grey matter, The Neurons brought out a song titled “Unbelieveable”. EMF wrote and performed the song, releasing it for public consumption in 1990. The main thing about it is the repeating refrain (yeah, I’m being redundant there, blame it on a lack of coffee), “The things you say. You’re unbelievable.” Which is how I often react to Trusk Regime news. As in, Trump executive order targets Chicago-based law firm Jenner & Block. Unbelievable.
Papi has been given his meds. I managed to use just one chumley, mixing it well and adding warm water. He lapped it up. I won today. On to coffee. It’s my reward.
Cheers
Twosda’s Wandering Thoughts
I popped the final radish into my mouth and crunched away. That was the last of my lunch. Cleaning up, I noticed my coffee cup still had a few swallows in it.
3:15 PM. Probably not too late for a quick swig.
Swig. Tumblers fell together. Memories cracked open.
Dad offered me a cup. “Here, take a swig of this.”
I don’t remember what was in the cup. I was arrested by swig. “What’s a swig?”
“You never heard that before? It’s a sip, a drink.”
I’d heard of them, along with gulp. Mom was always telling me not to gulp while Dad would encourage me to take a gulp.
I took a swig of the coffee and then another before pouring the rest out and cleaning out the cup. One good swig deserves another.
Obfloofrate
Obfloofrate (floofinition) – An animal who obstinately refuses to stop doing ‘wrong doing’. Origins: 15th century Middle Floofish.
In Use: “People who live with cats often find the little felines to be obfloofrate about where they will sit, even if people tell them that the kitchen counter is not place for a cat.”
In Use: “Loveable and goofy, the black Lab was also an obfloofrate squirrel chaser.”
In Use: “Almost perversely obfloofrate, Jade seemed to delight in knocking things off the dresser at around three AM.”
Twosda’s Theme Music
The cat wanted out. 3:20 AM, according to my sleep-blurred vision. Following his victory prance to the door, I gave him the usual admonitions about being safe, smart, staying close, and not letting anything get him. He meowed back with a little defiance, as if to say, “Gosh, I know! You tell me this a million times a day.”
A while later, sun was breaking in through the window. I cowered from it like a vampire. But it wasn’t the sun calling me: the cat wanted back in. 6:32. He came in, rushing to his kibble bowl like a starving maniac. I stumble-walk back to bed.
“Meow,” he said shortly, batting blinds. I want out.
“No,” I answered. “Not gonna happen.”
Of course it happened.
This is Twosda, March 25, 2025. The sun is glowing hard, heating an endless blue sky. Sensing a change in the air, the cat is eager to take advantage of it. “Sure,” I sleep-spoke to him. “You slept all day yesterday. I saw you, curled up in the malabar chair.”
“Meow,” the cat answered. “Out.”
It’s already 54 F. I don’t know what it feels like. I feel like I’d like more sleep. Supposed to get to 78 F today. Huzzah. Yawn. Seriously, I mean, huzzah, but I gotta get some coffee in me before I can give it the enthusiasm it deserves.
I’m suspicious of the weather. This is Oregon. Snow still covers some mountain tops, eyeing us in the valley. I suspect winter is gonna try to slip another storm over us. It’s just like weather to lure us with warm temperatures and friendly skins and then spring out at us like a demented drunk uncle and shout, “Got you.” And then laugh like they’re crazy.
Today’s morning mental music stream Neurons are offering The Friends of Distinction with “Going In Circles”. The gentle soulful 1969 song is in there because The Neurons think it’s funny about how the cat has me getting up to let him in and out over and over again. When it’s warmer, the pet door will be put back into place so he can leave and enter as he wants. But that temperature threshold hasn’t been achieved yet.
In recent news items, Donald Trump was caught lying. Trump said he didn’t sign controversial proclamation. The Federal Register shows one with his signature. Isn’t this rich from the administration which tried to say that President Biden’s pardons weren’t real because, signature. Autosigning thingy. “Did he know what he was signing?” they asked. Think they confused which person doesn’t know what they’re saying. Really, we know that Trump knew what he was signing; he just lied about it because it was giving him negative heat. Trump melts and lies under that kind of heat, sure as the sun’s motion.
Also, measles outbreaks are spreading. It’s mostly among the unvaccinated. You know, intelligent people, learning from what’s happening, would develop and administer vaccines to stop that. But we’re dealing with a new level of denial and irrational thinking with the Trusk Regime and the MAGAts who installed them.
Also, DOGE’s actions don’t seem to be going well with the public. So Republicans are being encouraged to lie about it. Here’s the deets. GOP begs senators to sing DOGE’s praises as support flounders
Gotta go. Cat wants in. Coffee, give me strength. Cheers
Munda’s Theme Music
A silky blue sky weaves hope and optimism in Ashlandia. A gorgeous spring day is being promised. 63 F now, ‘they’ tell us it feels like 71 F. I agree with them. Plentiful sunshine, as ‘they’ say. 73 F is the predicted high.
This is Munda, March 24, 2025. I dig this kind of sunshine. Especially after months of rain and clouds and the kind of chilly weather that makes me feel older than I am.
The cat is also quite pleased, I think. He zooms around furniture and through rooms. “Sun recharge your batteries?” I ask. He stops, sits, stares. Classic 3s floofhavior. After three seconds of this, he sticks a rear leg out and washes its underside. I begin for the kitchen. He pauses the washing to gift me with a scrutinizing stare. “You’ll get yours,” I say, because I know that whereismyfood look.
In the kitchen, I’m doing my morning things. Gotta move faster today. Leaving to do Food & Friends deliveries at 10 AM. Everything must be slightly accelerated. Nanoseconds must be shaved away from routines. I don’t feel like shaving time off today. I’m not a Formula 1 driver doing qualifying laps.
I give Papi his first feeding. That’s misleading. He’s already eaten from kibble bowls several times. This is a wet food offering. Eyes bright, he chirps at me as I lower the food bowl toward him. “Yes, you love me now,” I say. His purr vibrates the floor.
Time is flying. I eat. Make coffee. Drink same. Clean and dress. Examine my lower limbs for swelling and find none, knock on wood. My compression socks are easily drawn over my feet and up my legs. I’m becoming very proficient getting them on. It’s the other end, taking them off, that’s the challenge. I might have made a mistake by turning down the doffing stick. I reassure myself that not using the doffing stick gives my wrists, fingers, and hands a needed workout. My self is as suspicious about that as a cat might be.
We hit the Senior Center for the food pickup and schedule. Cars surround the center. Parking is limited. “That’s a bad sign,” my wife declares. “The food must not be ready.”
I’m resigned to wait. “Go check.”
She returns with the first load of food within a minute, surprising us. We’re off and running with a minimum wait.
“Only ten stops today,” she says.
“Ten stops. I remember when we had twice that.” Yes, people have disappeared from the list. We usually don’t know what happens to them. They’re Schrödinger’s elderly people. That’s a miserably depressing thought for such a sunny, bright day.
Today’s morning mental music stream inhabitant is the Pat Benatar offering, “Invincible”. Released in 1985, it was quite a hit at that time and stays on classic rock stations as an offering for the elderly still feasting on the past. The Neurons called it up today to support the April 5 Hands Off actions rising. Annie commented on a post, “I just read that the April 5 coalition includes at least 83 organizations, among them the Communications Workers of America and the Service Employees International Union. It’s gonna be big!!”
We need big energy to combat the Trusk Regime and GOTP. We need the energy of “Invincible”. Written by Simon Climie and Holly Knight, the song was made for the movie The Legend of Billie Jean.
[Chorus]
We can’t afford to be innocent
Stand up and face the enemy
It’s a do-or-die situation
We will be invincible
[Verse 2]
This shattered dream you cannot justify
We’re gonna scream until we’re satisfied
[Pre-Chorus]
What are we running for?
We’ve got the right to be angry
What are we running for?
When there’s nowhere we can run to anymore
h/t to Genius.com
It could be that I’m overwrought by the Trusk situation in the United States.
Hope your day satisfies you in some meaningful ways. I’m writing and then planning long-delayed chores. I’ve always blamed the weather. Now that the weather has improved, my excuses are gone.
Here’s the music video. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 