Thursday’s Wandering Thoughts
The thing about growing old is how you accumulate memories of so many of your firsts. I don’t know how much of it is true, but my mind informs me about many remembered firsts. Kisses and sex, purchases and experiences.
A big first for me was watching John F. Kennedy’s funeral on television. Another was watching the first moon landing.
But I remember buying my first car, and my family’s first color television. A big Magnavox console with a 25″ screen, my stepfather procured it after it fell off a truck.
Other big first include my first broken bone, meeting my wife and the first time we told each other, I love you. Another memorable first was the first funeral, for a school mate. Firsts fall in line: aircraft flights, purchasing a microwave, VHS player, CD player, home computer.
Now my latest firsts are witnessing a former POTUS declared guilty by a jury of his peers for crimes he committed, and NAZI flags being flown by his supporters as we commemorate the Normandy Landings done to fight NAZIs eighty years ago.
The Rot
I read a NY Times article about Trump diehards and reality today. The story firmly demonstrates how much Trump has corrupted truth and reality.
Cindy Elgan is an Election Clerk in a sparsely populated Nevada county. Although she is a Trump supporter, other Trump supporters in the county where she works have decided that she may work for the deep state. This is despite her honest and unbending efforts to faithfully uphold Nevada’s laws to ensure fair and accurate elections. She’s been doing this for twenty years.
But because other MAGA supporters keep hearing lies about the ‘stolen 2020 election’ from Trump and other Trumpublicans, they don’t trust Cindy Elgan, even though she is a Trump supporter. So they initiated a petition to recall her.
As the article by Eli Saslow noes, “What in the world happened to these people?” Elgan asked. “What kind of person could actually believe this nonsense?”
Just as so many tens of millions across our nation and around the world are asking.
Yet, Elgan herself supports Trump.
I recommend reading the article to gain insights about what a rot Donald J. Trump is on the United States. Of course, Trump’s supporters won’t read it and will remain in the dark because he declared the NY Times only publishes fake news.
That is the rot that is Trump.
Thursday’s Theme Music
Mood: sprummery
“You make me feel so young,” I told the day. “You make me feel like summer has come.”
Yes, it’s sprummer in Ashlandia, where the crows’ conversations dominate the morning’s sounds. Today is Jun 6, 2024. School is out. Light clouds sketch patterns over the blue sky but mild haze mars our western view. Dust, pollen, fire somewhere? Don’t know yet.
Our temperature currently resides at 70 F. That’s a temporary stop, up sixteen from when the cats forced me out of bed. 88 F is our forecasted high.
In surprise news, Mom is receiving her hospital bed back in Penn Hills. Last that I knew, back on Monday, more paperwork of an unexplained nature was needed. Now, bang, the bed is being delivered today.
The news set up falling dominos of actions and reactions. Mom immediately called daughters to come over with their hubbies to dissemble and move the old bed. Sisters et al responded, “We can’t now. We’re at work, we’re at appointments, we have commitments,” which dismayed Mom. She needed and expected everyone to immediately come to her aid, and adulting prevented that from happening. Stress, irritation, frustration, anger, and resentment all gyrated upward. Mom felt abandoned, and her daughters felt unreasonably burdened. It’s worse because it’s all part of a recurring cycle of ‘come help me now’ and ‘I can’t, I’m busy’.
Viewed from a distance, out of that, The Neurons initiated “King of Pain” by The Police in my morning mental music stream (Trademark changing). The 1983 song elaborates on the many small, overlooked matters that causes an observer to feel pain for the others and their situation, feeling this in his soul. That pain translates to rain, and then they express hope that another would end the rain, which would end their pain. I’m certain that it’s this circle and unfulfilled hope which attracted Les Neurons to this song today.
Be strong, stay positive, and Vote Blue in 2024. Also, enjoy, however you can, and try to make something of it. Coffee is doing its thing; time to go do mine. Here’s the music. Cheers
Floofumnavigate
Floofumnavigate (floofinition) – 1. To go around an animal blocking a path. Origins: First use observed in England, late 1940s
In Use: “Most housefloofs scurry to safety when the vacuum cleaner or sweeper is powered up, but Onyx barely cracked open an eye, forcing Barb to floofumnavigate Onyx while cleaning.”
In Use: “Whenever meals were being prepared, Bishop planted his large body in the kitchen’s entrance to observe, forcing everyone to floofumnavigate the white dog’s mountain of a body.”
2. To follow an animal as though it is a guide.
In Use: “Floofumnavigating the yard behind Bailey was always fun and different as the dog zigzagged the landscape, nose down, sucking up smells and looking for sources.”
In Use: “Cookie was a superb mother, floofumnavigating the room as her kittens began their first waddling explorations under her unflinching vigil.”
Wednesday’s Theme Music
Mood: summery
Carrying on with modern traditions and protocols observed in the western world, I find myself in Wednesday, June 5, 2024.
What a Wednesday it is. Sunny and fresh, like it just came out of the oven. 74 F now, we’ll climb to 86 on the thermostat. No talk about rain or thunderstorms but some suspicious clouds are hanging around.
You see the weather in Texas? After clipping 105 degrees F in Marathon, Texas, they had a minus 50 degree swing and ended up with several feet of hail. It’s all part of a miserable extended period of bad weather and weather swings — thunderstorms, tornados, flash floods, extreme heat. A few are dead and power was out for over 600,000. I feel for Texans and hope that we don’t end up on the same route out here in the PNW.
Now a bon voyage to Wiltmore and Williams. I know it sounds like a law firm specializing in personal injury cases on late night television. They’re not. They’re astronauts on the Boeing Starliner heading for the ISS.
Today’s morning mental music stream (Trademark flooded) inhabitant is “Woman from Tokyo” by Deep Purple. The 1973 song is quintessential seventies rock. Yet it has that soft, reflective middle interlude that puts a pause to the rocking beat. Why are The Neurons playing it for me his morning? Don’t know. They’re not talking. While I remember several dreams from last night, I can’t trace the song’s lineage to any of ’em. Just another mystery. Either way, this is a fun rendition of the song for me.
Stay positive, deal with the weather as needed, remain strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Here’s the music video. The coffee consumption has begun. Cheers
The Writing Moment
Back into the groove again, my little chicklets. I reduced my writing time while I was in Pittsburgh visiting and helping Mom, especially so in the final week. Figured I’d gone there to visit with her, so I needed to shift priorities and reduce my writing (grimace, grimace) and pay attention to her and her life. But now I’ve returned to Ashlandia and the writing and editing scene. Up to page 508 of 590, or over 86%. Probably complete it by week’s end.
And then I’ll turn around and begin again. Number 7.
Each time has felt good, like I’ve progressed in the story telling, and improved the elements. Of course, I’m the mother, so what else would be expected of me but to have pride in my baby? I’m also terrified because what if I’m totally wrong about what I’ve written and I’m deluding mysef about it, and it’s actually a stinking pile of garbage?
I don’t know how much it really matters about its quality. I’m having fun, meeting the challenge, and pressing on.
And that’s what I set out to do.
Cheers
Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts
I am so upset with myself.
Have you seen the latest fashion trend among America’s youth? Knee-high crew socks with sandals.
Just like I used to wear in the 1970s, in my boomer youth. I knew I should’ve kept them. Shouldn’t have taken them to a charity for recycling and repurposing. But no, I went with the low cut ‘no-sock’ look and tossed my geeky crew socks.
I am worried about this new fashion trend. What will be next? Disco, and big shoulder pads on women again? They’re already doing big pants legs like we did. We called them elephant legs.
As my generation would put it, ye gads.
Michael Seidel, writer 