I took a break from writing to walk around outside. As I went, I thought, gosh, I don’t see any deer. In the spring and winter, there’s often five to nine hanging around the cemetery. In the spring, I typically encounter three or four eating in a yard somewhere or crossing a street. Just the other day, when it was cooler, I found three young bucks in a yard, chilling in a plum tree’s shade. Today, nothing.
Then — across the street from the coffee shop is a house. And there, by the front steps, I saw my first deer of the day.
I offered a silent prayer to the world to help this little one have a good, healthy life while wondering where mama was, hoping she was near — which is what I suspect — and would soon return.
It’s a gentle reminder among the streets, politics, and technology, about how basic and beautiful life can be.
Trumpsanity continues to rage around the world. Trump orders attacks on Iran based on reasons he said before didn’t exist. Claims the war is not a war. It will be short — just as he said before. Just as he before said that the war was over when it started and has declared it over multiple times.
The aircraft was then heavily modified for royal use. That’s probably what Trump is talking about: all those luxury accoutrements.
Yet, luxury is not what the ultimate aircraft for We the People is all about. Air Force One was made to be safe and secure, not luxurious. Bowing to that, Trump ditched Qatari One, reverting to the old aircraft due to security. If Trump had the balls of steel he’s always making himself out to have, he would have said, “Damn the danger,” and stayed with Qatari One. He didn’t, because he remains a coward.
Struggling with declining popularity and growing problems, Trump wheeled out more distractions via Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL!
That doesn’t change anything. The Epstein files are still out there, waiting to be released and fully expose Trump. The economy is still groaning and flailing from the Trump tariffs and rising prices due to the Trump war.
Some excellent posts are out there to help cope with the Trumpsanity.
Annie Asks summarized our political mess and candor in politics in her post, Mitch McConnell, Graham Platner, and Candor in American Politics. Schroedinger’s McConnell — both alive and dead until we see his corporeal vessel — has been generating a lot of press, along with what’s happening with Graham Platner and others running for our nation’s highest offices. It’s a good read to help filter the noise.
Jill Dennison shares John Pavlovitz’s column about Graham Platner, reminding us as Democrats and Progressives in what we don’t want in our candidates in MISSING: Humanity | Filosofa’s Word
Pavlovitz finished his comments:
As the Democrats scramble to choose his replacement and try to salvage a victory in Maine, progressives, liberals, and moderates who are crestfallen today need to remember that in the loftier spaces that transcend politics, this is still a win.
Choosing not to align with indecency always is.
I agree with him. Likewise, choosing not to align with Trumpsanity is a step forward to a better world.
A thick tube of clear water spurted out of the wall. White tiles had been removed above the tub about five feet up. Oh, dear, what a mess, with some black fuzzy thing happening in the opening.
A trio of engineers, casually dressed, of different styles, heights, ages, one woman, two men, came in on behalf of the townhouse association. Because this wasn’t unique to this townhouse. It’d happened throughout the complex. This trio was going unit to unit to assess and strategize. I was just watching them from back by the door, listening as they ignored me. The spoke of how to fix it, what must be done.
Leaving, I headed across a common through sunshine to my own townhouse because, hey, that had been my father’s place, which slightly changed everything. He wasn’t there to look after it, so I was acting on his behalf.
I entered my own townhouse where the same problem existed but seemed to be on a much smaller scale. Some wall had been removed from the bathroom to the right which didn’t seem to have anything to do with the leak. I didn’t understand what that was about but I knew where to go for explanation.
I sought that women and this little rotund blonde explained something that kind of made sense and eased my anxieties. Going off again, I found I had a broken arm. No, not broken, just not working right. I’d been advised to keep it in a sling. I didn’t have a sling, so I fashioned one, and then modified it again and again, decided this was a good place to keep things, like my wallet, keys, and glasses.
So I tucked them in but then needed more material, so I added other things, and reshaped it, and reshaped it. People were going past as I did this and I turned away, trying to keep things private.
I decided to call my stepmother to tell her about Dad’s townhouse. Then I realized that Dad was dead and this was a dream. That I had actually a dream in a dream, and that the townhouse with the plumbing problem wasn’t real.
But I called my stepmother. I said, “I was thinking about Dad because it’s his birthday.” Then I realized, that’s not right. I said, “No, because it was my birthday.”
She was talking but it came to me, this call isn’t happening; it’s also a dream.
Received my biopsy results the other day and saw my urologist today.
The TURBT procedure seemed to get all of the cancer. Didn’t get into the muscle tissue, blood, or connective tissue.
That’s all good news.
My bladder seems to be healing well, based on observations. No pain, clearer urine.
The next steps begin in August, maybe September. After my bladder has healed from its surgery, we’ll begin a series of BCG washes. This is an instillation of tuberculosis bacilli into the bladder. This trains the immune system to attack the disease. It then also attacks any cancer cells which dare to show. I’ll go through that once a week for four to six weeks. There’s a less than 1% chance that I’ll develop TB from it.
CT scans with contrast will follow after the BCG wash protocol to see what shows in my bladder. Cystoscopy if or as necessary to see what’s in there. Three-year follow up program of checking and washes.
First steps have been taken. While it’s all positive to date, it won’t be done for a while. Meanwhile, I’m energetic. In good spirits. Overweight — got to eat less and exercise more, but I can’t exercise properly for two more weeks — but optimistic.
Thanks for all the support. I’ll try to reciprocate to the best I can.
My wife and I and others were being chased by zombies. Fighting them off, we’d taken refuge in a large building. Seemed like some manner of old mansion, maybe. Don’t know.
During the fight, I’d managed to arm myself with two weapons. One was a large but old revolver. Basically, a six-shooter. The other was a modern 9mm handgun, black and cold.
I kept one in each hand as I met the new people, survivors like us. It was chaotic. I was edgy, tense, a little angry. People seemed to be doing stupid things, leaving doors and windows open. I kept going around, closing these things, looking for food, telling others to be careful.
They didn’t seem to be responding well to my comments. They weren’t angry or anything but seemingly oblivious. As I processed that, I concluded that I needed to establish a safe little place for me and my wife in that larger area, and went up some wooden stairs in such of such a place.
I kept my weapons with me. At one point, though, talking with another, I noticed that the revolver had some pink material. Opening the cylinder, I found that each round had the striking end covered in a bright pink wad of cloth, a safety thing I concluded, with some alarm. If I’d tried using that weapon, it probably wouldn’t have fired.
Meanwhile, I wondered, was the 9mm okay, or did it have something like that? But I’d seen the magazine and I thought I’d fired it once without problem, so I thought it was okay.
The dream ended with me trying to remove the pink wadding from the revolving.
I did my ‘first of the month’ chores the other day. These include pouring things down into the bathtub to keep the sewer lines cleared, and running cleaners through the washing machine, dishwasher, and garbage disposal. We hunt for organic, safe things to do this with. I do them every month on the first day to keep it all working well.
That’s the dream, anyway.
All transpired as planned with everything except the washing machine. It stopped, showing an error message.
My wife pointed it out to me by asking, “What’s this mean?”
“What?”
“The washing machine isn’t doing anything. It shows ‘rL’ where it usually shows the time.”
I looked. Not because I didn’t believe her. It’s just habit: see for myself. Helps me shift into ‘maybe I can fix it’ mode.
She was right about what it said. The time is always in green. These letters were in red.
“That’s not good,” I wisely noted.
We pulled out the manual and found the error message. It’s specifically for the cleaning cycle and means, ‘something is in the washer’. Nothing is supposed to be in the washer during this process. The only thing in it is the tablet purchased for the purpose.
My wife and I talked about it. “This is what we used before,” we agreed. “It was never upset before.”
Shrugging, I took the standard modern technology route: turn it off, turn it back on.
Michael Seidel, writer 