

Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
This one took me a while. It turned out to be a pain in the ass. But as a dedicated budgeteer, I refused to give up.
We have Hunter-Douglas bottom-up/top down blinds in three rooms, including the office. My wife calls the office ‘the snug’, but that’s another story ripe with reverberations about words and their meanings and intentions. Anyway, I pulled on the cord to lower a blind and it snapped. Thus began my DIY project.
That happened in May. I researched and researched and researched but couldn’t find guidance or parts about our particular blinds and how to fix them. In early June, I reached out to Hunter-Douglas. Through a two week session of correspondence with photographs, we learned that my honeycomb Duetto blinds were manufacturered before 2007 so they had a different mechanism from what they currently make. Coming through like champs, though, Hunter-Douglas identified the parts I needed and said, “We’ll send them to you.” And then did, no charge for anything.
The parts arrived at June’s end. Meanwhile, the snug, excuse me, office, is the house’s warmest room. It’s also our most used. With only a desk, wall-mounted TV, a few book cases, a desk chair, recliner, and accent chair, we spend hours each day in that room reading, watching television, surfing the net, playing ‘puter games, and on the phone. It would clearly and easily win a household poll for ‘most popular room’. The cats are there just because we are. That’s their M.O.
One reason this room is so warm is that it has a standard ceiling. Much of the house has a ‘high ceiling’. That lets summer heat climb. Yes, it doesn’t do much to help us keep warm in the winter. The other reason for this room’s warmth is that its big window, which takes up most of the outside wall, faces west. The sun starts blazing through it at 3 PM in the summer. It doesn’t stop until the sun sets five hours plus later. The weather station is in there. When it’s over 90 F outside, this room will easily climb into the upper 80s. We use a vertical electric fan to chill us.
I’d taken the blind down for repairs, so that window was exposed. I dealt with that by hanging a large white bath towel on the window via clothes pins. Didn’t look pretty — you should have seen my wife’s scowl when she contemplated it — but it protected us from the sun and gave us needed privacy.
The parts arrived and I commenced on repairs. All went well. At first. The DIY corollary to Murphy’s Law says, “If complications are possible, they will happen.” For me, the complications came when I tried sliding the entire thing back together. It would not go as shown in ten million online videos. Talk about aggravating. Infuriating. Frustrating.
My wife was sanguine. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”
I shook my head. “I think I might have to take it in for repairs.”
“Whatever you think is best.”
That was in mid-July. I researched repair centers while studying the blinds. Every third day or so, I’d try again to slide it all together. I tried carefully greasing pieces, and I tried different angles. But in studying the blind issue, I became convinced that the top fabric piece was the culprit. It was hitting against the pull/cranking mechanism. I think, I decided, I might need to cut that thing. I really didn’t want to cut that that thing, though. It’s not just fabric; it is fabric and plastic, and holds the mounts for the spools and shafts which operate the up/down mechanisms. It keeps it all aligned. Besides, I tasked myself, how exactly are you going to cut it? Exacto knife? Pocket knife? Box cutter, carpet cutter, tin snips, wire cutters?
No, I finally said: nursing shears.
With the plastic/fabric slid in as far as possible, I picked up the nursing shears. These are scissors which hospitals use to cut away clothing when people come in with injuries. With them, I cut two inches on either side of the end of the recalcitrant plastic/fabric piece. Lifting it up, I slid the thing home and closed my little flap.
Well done, I exulted.
Except, the lines were now hopelessly tangled.
Aw, fuuuucccckkkk, I morosely groaned.
With some work, I untangled it all enough that I could mount it and close it 80% of the way, top to bottom. But I could not raise it from the bottom. I could lower it from the top, though.
“You did it,” my wife said when she saw.
I shook my head. “No.” I explained the remaining problem. Then came the gut-wrenching clincher. “I might need to take it back apart again.”
Eyes widening, she literally blanched. “Oh, no.”
I set my jaw. “I put it together once. I can do it again.” My fingers were crossed when I said that.
I left it like that for several days. Every once in a while, I gazed at it all and thought about what needed done, but I was chicken shit. I worried that I’d make it worse. Finally, sucking it up, I said, “Enough.”
I took it all apart again. I carefully worked on the lines and spools and untangled it all. Then, I put it back together.
I did it in the morning so the sun wasn’t beaming through the window. It was cool, in the high sixties as morning developed. I had the window open. Despite a cool breeze, I was sweating bullets.
But it’s up. Together. And it works.
Thank the DIY gods.
Just a few tidbits of interest sucked in the grey thinking thingies in me today.
One that was sort of interesting in the course of conversations about inflation, the stock market, tariffs, unemployment, moving manufacturing the U.S., and the economy:
Ford CEO says rare earths shortage forced it to shut factory
This happened back in June. Ford CEO Jim Farley said the slowing critical minerals from China into the U.S. has presented a challenge.
“It’s day to day,” he told Bloomberg TV Friday. “We have had to shut down factories. It’s hand-to-mouth right now.”
Trump has responded by claiming that he’s convinced China to send the U.S. the rare earth minerals without mentioning that China responded as they did when he shoved huge tariffs down China’s throat and stopping visas Chinese students. Mines are supposed to be ramping up rare earth mineral production in the U.S. (Wyoming, Texas, and California) but how long until that gap is closed? ‘Ramping up’ normally takes a while.
Meanwhile, the heat is on in D.C. over the Epstein files. Many, like Trump, asks, why didn’t the Democrats release the files when President Biden was in the White House? Well, first, the records were sealed by a court, and President Biden respects due process. But also, Trump ran on a promise to release them. MAGALand wants that campaign promise fulfilled. It’s important to them because it’s supposed to be all about how terrible the Dems are. The reality may be much different.
As usual, when the going gets tough, the tough get going. That doesn’t include Speaker Mike Johnson and other Republicans. When the going gets tough, they hurry away as fast as possible.
“We’re not going to play political games with this,” Johnson said in a news conference July 22.
Because Trump is a Republican, Johnson didn’t add, because we have mounds of evidence about how differently the Republicans respond to accusations about their bloated God. Instead, Johnson, ‘not playing political games’, called for an early recess.
Finally, one distraction the Trump Regime threw out in their “Squirrel!” distraction tactics was to accuse President Obama of criminal allegations. It’s a terribly pathetic and desperate move, but when you move against facts and truth, pathetic desperation is your MO. Fact checkers have taken to the Trump Regime claims and have come out with the results: ‘Simply doesn’t come close’: Fact-checker takes seconds to dismantle Trump’s Obama claim.
Fortunately for Trump and his Greedy Old Trump Party, often just called the GOTP, Ozzy Osbourne has passed away at 76. That will take some heat off them as the media and public turn their attention to Ozzy and his career.
We’re rejoicing and celebrating another coolish day in Ashlandia. 76 F, sunny with lurking peripheral clouds stretching arms over their heads, we expect 86 F today and 61 F tonight. Good stuff, IMO, though smoky particulates are noted in the air by my sensitive proboscis.
Household conversations this morning was about some decor changes, vacation plans, and, “Is Trump dying?” Well, as Sen. Joni Ernst likes pointing out, we’re all dying. With the mango sloth, we were talking about how bad he appears, the swollen ankle thing, the make up on his hand, and the aspirin he’s been talking regularly. Aspirin for cardiac prevention only works if you have a pre-existing condition. Our questions as concerned American citizens, voters, and tax-payers, is this man healthy enough to safely lead the nation? Did the physician lie to us about Trump’s state of health in April?
*gasp* Is the Trump Regime lying to us about Trump’s health? Is there a cover up going on?
Because, gosh, they are so darn concerned about the last POTUS and what was going on. Should we not be more or equally concerned about the current White House resident and his health? Good for the gander and all that.
And while my wife and I discussed the mango sloth’s health, I stumbled over a terrific Alternet opinion piece by D. Earl Stevens about Trump’s health, This White House lie shows they know Trump is in trouble | Opinion. I highly recommend it for more insightful thinking about Trump’s health than I can offer.
The Neurons offer Mark Knopfler in today morning mental music stream. Something being said in the kitchen during a conversation with my wife caused me to say, “Boom, just like that.” I don’t remember the precursor to those words being uttered, but The Music Neurons took that as an open door to introduce Mark Knopfler’s 2004 song about Ray Kroc into the morning mental music stream, “Boom, Like That”.
And with that, I’m in pursuit of coffee in my body and words in my novel. Hope your Twosda offers you the joy, comfort, and success which you deserve, along with some good stuff to eat. Here we go. Cheers
Give me some chatter, baby. I like hearing the baristas tossing comments around as orders are given and taken. Add some background music, pop and rock songs which I sometimes know, hovering on my conscious awareness. Pump in some coffee making clinks, grinding, hissing, thumps, and clacks. All that together enhances my focus and concentration.
It’s a melange of familiar and forgettable noises blending into one sound, a combo which is easily shunted aside and ignored. It’s when a quiet rises and spreads that I stop my thinking and typing and look up to see what’s going on.
Sounds different from the norm will puncture my focus. Like, a child’s scream. A dog’s bark. A growing argument or increasingly loud disagreement. These all pull me up from under. But otherwise, with that coffee shop blend percolating around me, I think and type until, oh, damn, I forgot to drink my coffee. OMG, the coffee shop is empty. And, my ass has fallen asleep from sitting so long. And, I was supposed to leave ten minutes ago.
Those are all signs that it was a pretty productive day.
Floof Caddy (floofinition) 1. A person designated to tend to animals’ needs and manage the animal’s appointments. Origins: 1853, Scotland.
In Use: “Greatly annoying her, Lisa discovered she was the house dog’s floof caddy, picking up his toys, tidying his bed, cleaning and refilling his food and water dishes, checking his supplies, and while she loved Elmo, she really thought someone else in the house of six should be sharing those duties.”
2. An object or space designed or used to hold food or objects made for animals.
In Use: “After seeing a garden tool caddy on sale, Martha wondered if there was a floof caddy which did a similar thing, and then had a friend make one for her, based on her specs.”
Stealthy clouds crowd the sky over Ashlandia, dropping high and low temperatures by ten degrees plus. After an overnight low of 61 F, today’s high is expected to be just 78 F today. Air quality is good at 22, although wildfire smoke smells linger like a memory of a flirtatious kiss. This is Munda, July 21, 2025.
We had an active shooter incident the other day on I5 just outside of Ashland. The shooter was on an overpass and the Interstate was shut down for a few hours. A man was eventually arrested. No injuries were reported. We don’t know about his motivations yet.
Just finished reading The King of Ashes by S.A. Cosby. Terrific page turner with marvelous and fresh, inventive writing, tight plotting, and strong characters. On to The Ministry of Time by Kaliane Bradley. My wife just finished it. I’ve been eyeing it and she recommended it to me.
My morning reading included several Trump-voter FAFO tales. One, by Red Painter via Crooks & Liars, was about Arkansas farmers filing for Chapter 12 bankruptcy. Painter writes, “Only 45 farms filed in the entirety of 2024, which seems about average. Well, 2025 has been exponentially worse for farmers – a shocking 88 had filed for bankrupcy by the end of Q1 2025!” Arkansas Senator John Boozman blames previous POTUS Biden, of course; that’s the GOP playbook answer, blame Democrats, avoid voters, or pretend it’s not happening. But never, never take responsibility for bad news.
The other FAFO tale was out of Nevada. Broadacres Market closed down in June after the national wave of prominent ICE raids where brown people were snatched up by masked individuals. A large open-market venue that serves about 15,000 people every weekend, Broadacres Marketplace vendors particularly cater to the Latino population. They don’t know when they’ll reopen. Read full story here.
“We don’t want any of our customers, vendors, or employees to be detained at our business or for us to be a beacon of shopping and entertainment while our federal government is raiding businesses and detaining its people,” the Broadacres Marketplace Management team wrote on social media. Read full story here.
Like Arkansas, Nevada went for Trump, partly supported by an increase in Latino support. Said one Latino voter back in 2024 after Trump’s victory: “Initially, I will say I did not agree with him,” said Mario Jr., 29. “Then I started seeing that he was not afraid to speak his mind and I noticed that he was not scared to say what he felt, regardless of what people would say. I think I respect that about him.” No word on what he thinks now. Read full story here.
Meanwhile, Trump, still operating that he’s under the King of All, is trying to force the Washington Commanders, NFL team, to revive the racial slur they’d previously used. Naturally, the bully’s tool of choice is to withhold funding for the team’s new D.C. stadium.
After that and other reading, The Neurons seeded “The King of Wishful Thinking” in the morning mental music stream. This is a 1990 song from Go West. Heard it a bunch on radio during the last century’s last decade. It’s an easy sing along. I think news about Epstein, Trump, and the MAGAts being upset about Epstein file’s handling by the Trump Regime inspired The Neurons with this song choice.
Got my coffee running its route through my systems. Hope this Munda and the week it commences finds you in good spirits and good health, and that you have the best week you can. Cheers
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.
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