Category: miscellaneous

Twozdaz Theme Music

It’s Twozda, October 28, 2025, in Monroeville. My hotel windows face the north. Long fingers of early morning sunshine stretch out of blue skies and blow up the leaves’ autumn colors into fiery hues. It’s 41 F now. They’re pitching a high of 55 F. Rain is on the way for Thirstda, when we leave.

Mom’s hospital visit yesterday revealed no new problems. No breaks from her falls. No head damage, etc. She’s back with sis at sis’s house. They gave her morphine yesterday and she was confused today. Two big items are loaded for the Mom agenda today. Sis and I will meet with a realtor at Mom’s house to talk about putting it on the market. We also need to find the right size adult night time diapers for Mom. She leaks all night long. Wears diapers but they’re too big. Sis has mats on the bed but the leaking is so pervasive that her sheets end up soaked, necessitating taking off the bedding and washing it. I picked up more bedding yesterday so that the wash can be spaced out a few days. But new diapers are needed. I checked local big box stores for a new solution yesterday but nada was had. It’s diapers with pulls, not undies, needed.

Trump’s continued takedown of the United States inspired The Neurons with “Then the Morning Come” in the morning mental music stream. I was thinking that someday it will be morning in America after Trump is done. Then there will be a general, confused awakening. The GOP will realize the party’s over and go off to nurse their hangovers while the rest of us rebuild. So this Smashmouth song feels right for what’s happening now and what will happen when people visit the future building formerly known as the White House and ask, “OMG, WTF happened?” Many of them will proclaim, “I didn’t know. I had no idea.” Which will just earn them the greatest imaginable contempt from me. For how could you not know unless you’re burying your head and pretending, all is well, this is gonna be great? Yeah, I know, it doesn’t render that easily. Much more complicated, so Trump supporters tell me. Sure.

Then the Morning Comes

Good morning

Paint the town, take a bow
Thank everybody
You’re gonna do it again
You are the few, the proud
You are the antibody
Mind, soul and zen

And the world’s a stage
(And the world’s a faze)
And the end is near
So push rewind, just in time
Thank anybody
You’re gonna do it again

The way that you walk
It’s just the way that you talk
Like it ain’t no thing
And every single day is just a fling
Then the morning comes

Take your knocks, shake ’em off
Duck everybody
You’re gonna take ’em again
You are your foe, your friend
You are the paparazzi
You are the tragedian

And the world’s a craze
(And the world’s a faze)
And the end is near
So push rewind, just in time
Thank anybody
You’re gonna do it again

The way that you walk
It’s just the way that you talk
Like it ain’t no thing
And every single day is just a fling

And when it comes, it moves so slow
Kind of like it’s saying, “I told you so”
Looking back before she goes
Tomorrow’s gonna hurt

And the world’s a stage
(And the world’s a faze)
And the end is near
So push rewind, just in time
Thank anybody

It’s just the way that you walk
It’s just the way that you talk
Like it ain’t no thing
And every single day is just a fling
Then the morning comes

Off to do a little local sightseeing and shopping. Fingers crossed that peace and grace awaken from their slumber and come give us some relief. Till then, hang tight. Cheers

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Wenzdaz Wandering Political Thoughts

Every time that I think that the Trump Regime can’t piss me off, they sink to lower levels.

Trump Administration Cuts Cyberdefense Even as Threats Grow

Like, WTF. Then, oh, yeah. That makes sense.

It makes sense because the Trump Regime values nothing but wealth. Money money money. Gold! Look how he decorated the Oval Office with faux gold pieces. He thinks that’s impressive. “Look, it’s gold. Shiny.”

And yeah, it makes sense because the Trump Regime thinks little through. Trump farts and takes that as a divine sign that he should do something. Attack someone. Wreck a building. Steal more money. Go golfing. Lie about something. Given his behavior, he farts a lot.

If the cyberdefenses fail, there’d be widespread misery in the U.S. Trump’s actions can affect all aspects of the United States infrastructure and includes shipping, the supply chain, the power grid, business and commerce, and air travel, regardless of whether it’s a red state or blue state, regardless of how the votes went in any previous election. It’ll affect all people if those things fail, regardless of skin color, religion, or wealth. And as those things are used by the military, it impacts U.S. military readiness.

I can close by saying, what a fucking idiot. Again. What fucking idiots run that regime.

Or I can close, see? Trump hates the United States. He’s actively working to destroy it.

But really, it’s clearly both.

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Wenzdaz Wandering Thoughts

Thinking about my travel packing this morning. Long ago, I developed a habit of packing my toilet bag a few days before I leave. Then I use my toiletries from it as though I’m in a hotel room. In that way, I sometimes realize something was overlooked, and I’m not rushing through packing it at a later time. This is all my own in that I’ve never read about it, subject to memory limitations. I’ve never mentioned it to others till now, either. Wouldn’t surprise me to learn that others do the same.

Follow me for more tips about drinking beer and coffee.

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Mundaz Wandering Thoughts

Call it first world blues. Again.

The annual property taxes bill arrived in the mail.

Normally a mild-mannered but curmudgeonly individual since I was young, the tax bill brought out my dour side.

I vented to my wife. “Our real market value declined by nine thousand but the assessed value increased by two. The land increased in value but the structure’s value plopped by a few thousand. Yet, the tax has increased a few hundred dollars.”

Used to the annual rant, my wife nodded in feigned sympathy and fed me some new irritation fuel. “That’s so we can pay our city manager their ridiculous salary.”

Yes, we’re in an Ashlandia uproar over the city manager’s compensation. She doesn’t live in Ashland, and makes 226K a year after a 30K pay raise. Total compensation pushes her package close to 400K a year. She earns more than any other city manager in the area, yet there is a general impression among the hoi polloi that things in the city are going in the wrong flippin’ direction. Fer instance, while the city manager and other ‘managers’ were given raises, the city laid off maintenance and office people and cut back services. Like, WTF, over?

I pointed out to my wife, though, “The city manager’s pay doesn’t come out of this. This is the county’s tax bill.” I then read her the itemized list of bond issues we’re supporting in our $6200 tax bill (with discounts for paying it on time and in full in November). Most of it is for the Ashland School District. Yet, Ashland Schools needed a $890,000 donation to make ends meet.

This all does not computer. Our house was built in 2005. Three bedrooms, two baths. Almost 1900 square feet, it’s not large or fancy, all on just under a quarter acre of land.

On the other hand, I reminded myself. I have a decent house and life. I can afford to pay these taxes when it will strain others.

Ranting is in me, though. I’ll rant, let it go, pay it, and move on. Then, though the subject came up in NextDoor. Multiple people turned out to have the same opinion as me about the subject. Reading their comments validated my opinions and insights. Thus comforted, I slept well.

For the record, here’s more about the donation to the school district from last week. Cheers

Kelly Clarkson Is Amazed By $1 Million Anonymous Donor Who Saved Oregon School District

Ashland School District in Oregon was facing an $8 million deficit last year, until an anonymous donor stepped in with a nearly $1 million donation to save teachers’ jobs and student programs. Kelly meets superintendent Dr. Joseph Hattrick, executive director of the school district’s foundation Erica Thompson, as well as students Soren and Grace and teacher Paul, who share how the community came together to thank the donor. Watch till the end for another huge surprise for the Ashland School District from Scholastic and Kelly!

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Mundaz Wandering Thoughts

We were once again facing the eternal question: where should we sit?

My wife and I agree upon many things. We also disagree on many things. She’s much more probable to violently curse when something goes wrong than I am. She’s better at remembering birthdays, faces, names, and gifts. I am really good at untying knots and finding things. None of that is really related to today’s topic. In essence, she’s an indo and I’m an endo.

I generally give her to her when the challenge arises. That means that we’ll sit in the middle. “Let’s move to the middle. We’ll have a better view.” That’s typical indo logic.

As an endo, though, I prefer the row’s endcap. Let’s face it, being on the end has multiple obvious advantages. If you’re leaving, you can stand up, turn, and walk away fast, without the bother of waiting others to stand, stretch, grunt, wake up, and realize where they are. As an endo, bathroom breaks are more easily possible. In an emergency, of course, being on the end is the place to be, preferably by the emergency exit. That’s how endos think.

I started as an end in school, though. I just preferred a little separation from the other young animals who’d been brought together to be taught. Being on the end offers more perspective to me. Easier to turn around and stare at someone. In the middle, you’re part of the end. On the edge, you’re, well…the edge.

It’s amusing when a group comes together and they’ll all one group or another. This come up at the beer group last week. Most of the initial joiners were endo. We ended to corner seats, leaving the middle free. But latter people were like, “Guess I’ll sit in the middle here.” Then they tried making it positive. “Hey, I can hear and see more from here.”

That’s an endo, trying to be an indo.

Not that it’s really important, but where do you fall on the seating spectrum? Are you an endo, or do you enjoy the middle?

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Some Silly Humor

I was walking through the house. As I passed my wife by the foyer, she bent over to pick something up.

I gave one of her butt cheeks a light tap.

She looked up at me.

I said, “Oh, sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

That’s when the chase began.

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Sundaz Wandering Thoughts

Frank passed away, so I’m remembering Frank. 95, he and Mom were together for his life’s last twenty years plus. Which, as I think about it, causes me to realize that Frank was about five years older than my present age when he and Mom met. My youngest sister, Lisa, was the agent of their coming together. Mom was dating another, Ed, at the time. Lisa worked in a bank. She regularly saw Frank and decided that Frank and Mom were a good match. When she suggested it to Frank, he asked, “Is she pretty?” Lisa beamed and gave a knowing nod. “Yep.”

Lisa was right. Mom and Frank hit it right off. All was a lot of fun for years. Biking, walking, movies, tennis, dancing, estate sales. They had a good life before Mom’s accidents, health, and drugs crippled things. I’m happy they had those years together.

When my wife and I talked about it, she marveled about old people dating. “People our age,” she exclaimed as we both laughed. She went on, “I’m like that song. I’m not ready to get naked in front of another.”

We spoke more seriously about friends and relatives our age and older dating. Ron, 78, lost his wife ten years ago to breast cancer. He’s had a regular girlfriend for three years. Now he’s dating another woman and they’re having fun. Sis-in-law, coming up on 70, has a regular boyfriend, her third since her husband died of brain cancer about five years ago (I think). Then there’s Barb, 81 this Feb, dating a guy who is her age. Both had preferred younger people and would hook up with someone for a few months and then move on. Now, months into this relationship, Barb professes that she’s in love. Sweet and beautiful.

So, there’s hope, if you put yourself out there. As Frank and Mom did. Hell, as Dad did. Now at 92, he’s on his third marriage. It’s lasted over thirty years, the longest marriage of his life, and he seems happy and contented.

Hope and love aren’t limited by age.

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Fridaz Wandering Thoughts

I’ve been sitting here, stewing and worrying about Mom.

I should have known better.

Backstory to this, Mom’s live-in boyfriend died this week after an accident. Mom has been experiencing multiple health issues, going back more than twenty years. Frank’s death and Mom’s health issues were both marked with a fall down the same set of steps. I worried about that happening for years and kept warning them. Now it’s taken Frank.

Frank’s passing is a big shock to Mom’s way of life. Frank still drove his car, although it could be terrifying at times. He was 95 and almost blind in one eye, so there were some “Yikes!” moments. Well, many “Yikes!” moments. But he shopped for Mom, took her to her appointments, picked up her prescriptions, helped her dress and clean, and so many other things that a spouse does for their other. He also contributed to paying her bills. With Frank gone, who was going to do these things for Mom?

Little sis, the powerhouse of the family, sent me a text today that she’s been busy getting ready for Mom to move.

Turns out, even before Frank passed away, sis suggested to Mom that Mom live with sis in her house. Sis has a full house already. Her youngest daughter and boyfriend live with her. So does her hubby. But sis has a finished half basement which they’d set up as an exercise space and lounge. It has its own bathroom. Now sis is cleaning it up and setting it up as Mom’s new permanent residence. The floor is level so she can wheel around with no problem. There’s a refrigerator down there. The aforementioned bathroom. It’s connected to the garage so she can roll right out to the car as needed.

As sis puts it, Mom could also go upstairs with some help, so she can participate in things. Mom will be contributing to electricity, sewer, and water to help defray the increased costs.

Sis has cleaned out Mom’s kitchen cupboards already. She found a can of cocoa in there that she says might have been from a time before manufacturers were required to put expiration dates on cans.

It is so good to have such a capable and energetic little sister. Gotta love her.

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Ghostly Thoughts

Ghost are all around, inhabiting the land.

Offices.

Factories.

Houses.

They’re sometimes noticed.

Most are forgotten.

Except by other ghosts.

The ghosts did many things for us.

Served in the military.

Protected us.

Gave their lives.

Raised food for us. Fed us.

Kept us safe.

Wrote laws with the best intentions.

And tried to lift us up and lead us forward.

They gave us light and security.

Running water.

Safe water.

Safe homes.

Electricity.

Bridges and roads.

Books and paintings, music and rock.

Humor.

Raised us up with hands and ideas.

And now wait.

Until we’re ghosts.

And join them.

To be forgotten.

Remembered only by other ghosts.

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