Category: miscellaneous

A Chaotic Mom Dream

Not surprising, given my conflicting attitudes about Mom, a chaotic dream had her front and center. My family was also there; not just my real life extended family. My dream added a few extras.

We were at some huge get together. This was at Mom’s place. It was a place I’ve never seen in real life. Ramshackled, part park and house, the boundaries between inside and out were nebulous and ever-changing. So were the rooms. I kept getting a little lost but then recovering and figuring out where I was.

Meanwhile, my relatives were a chaotic bunch. A person who dislikes chaos as much as cats dislike loud noises, I took charge and imposed order, telling each what they should do. I couched it in a way that it sounded like advice. Agreeing to my suggestions, they packed food, piled into cars, and left.

Ah, the silence was comfortable. Then Mom hurried in. Loose piles of money had been on one table. I remembered seeing it, I agreed. It was all gone, Mom said, frantic. She thought someone broke in and stole it.

I challenged that. She didn’t see anyone break in. No evidence of a break in was there. It was possible that the family took the money. Wasn’t that why the money was there? Mom bickered with me about it a bit, changing the history and the reason the money was there. I grew weary of it as I realized that nothing I said or did would appease her. Suggesting she call the other family members and talk to them, I wandered off.

Then came the dream’s climax. I sat down and picked at my little toe’s toe nail. This would be toe number five. The small toe. I picked at the nail; it felt like the nail was loose. Like something was under it. Unable to help myself, I conducted some prying with a finger nail.

My little toe’s top lifted off. Like the top quarter inch.

It was a bloodless event. Beneath it was another small toe nail. My toe was intact, just stubbier. To cap matters off, I did the same thing with the other toe.

Then I tossed the two toe tips aside, amusing myself with how Mom would react when she saw them, chuckling to myself about what my wife would say about my new truncated toes. I was dubious she would notice.

Dream end.

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It’s Embarrassing…

Daily writing prompt
What was the best compliment you’ve received?
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I kind of cringe and debate about answering this. It feels like bragging. But I’m gonna take a deep breath and put it out there.

I received the same compliment from six different people, six different times. It really felt flattering, receiving it every time, and I glow as I remember it now. Each of these people were individuals I respected. So I thought it the best compliment when each called me years after they’d last worked for me and said, “You’re the best person I ever worked for.”

I mean, you know, I tried. I think many do try to be a good boss, someone who is honest to their people, trying to help them grow, and hopefully developing bonds. Half of those people who called were from my military career, and the other half were from my civilian positions. Regardless of whether I was in the military or a civilian, my stance as ‘boss’ was driven by several tenets. One, treat everyone with respect. Two, trust people. Three, be honest. Four, teamwork and communicating are critical to get things done. And five, the best evidence that you’re a good leader is how well your team does when you’re not around. So after all those years, to get those calls, man, it was satisfying and rewarding.

Probably a good thing that they waited and called me up to tell me that, though. Otherwise, it would have gone right to my head.

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Saturda’s Wandering Thoughts

Just a pause to say that I’m grateful.

I’m grateful that the medical profession has developed the knowledge, insights, and treatment for what ailed me.

I’m grateful for a medical team who guided me safely through weeks of pain through surgery and recovery.

I’m grateful that I have a house where I can take a shower, and I’m grateful for the society, civilization, and people that built the systems which enabled me to take a hot, long shower this morning.

I’m grateful that I can walk normally again, free of pain.

There’s a lot to be grateful for in my life. I’ve always been pretty fortunate. I’ve taken a lot of it for granted. So, I thought this needed to be noted. I am grateful. I may not always sound like I am, but that’s just my nature.

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Knock On Wood

Daily writing prompt
Are you superstitious?
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Knock on wood, I am not superstitious. I’ve owned three wonderful black cats in Crystal, Sam, and Boo. Each gave me nothing but purrs and good company.

Of course, I do respect that others are superstitious. That affects things. So, for them, I throw salt over my shoulder when I spill it. With many affected by Friday the 13th, I know that many people are a little more distracted and nervous, so I’m a little more careful and alert.

Sure, I do have my lucky underwear, but that’s not superstition. I’ve observed the cause and effect of having them on. I only wear them when extra luck is needed these days because the elastic waistband is worn out and its cotton material has grown as sheer as a silk negligee. The light blue boxers also have a couple holes torn in them from getting a toe ripping through the material when I was putting them on. My wife wants me to throw them away but come on, that would surely be temping the gods to do that.

I do wear a pen on my shirt, but that’s not superstition. I’m a writer and the pen is a talisman to enhance my creativity and prevent writer’s block. What fiction writer would turn that down?

Also, I don’t walk under ladders just as a matter of safety and common sense. Someone could be doing something up there, drop it, and bonk me on the head.

And that would be bad luck.

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Munda’s Wandering Thoughts

One of the great things about the modern net is the ability to make friends. I have friendships with people I’ve never met. As I enjoy their social media posts and their blogs, I wonder what they’re really like. I’d like to be able to sit at a table with them and get to know them.

Conversely, I worry about them. Some are in Australia dealing with a cyclone. Are they okay? Some are in Ukraine, and I worry for their safety, sanity, and nation. Some of these friends are at risk for mental health or physical health. I worry about them if they’re absent from the net for a few days.

So, nice having friends around the world. I hope they’re all okay.

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Sexist of Me

Daily writing prompt
Where would you go on a shopping spree?
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If a shopping spree is planned, you can leave me out. If that’s an option. I’m only interested in shopping sprees when I go to a book store, although I don’t mind shopping sprees in wine and cheese stores (nudge, nudge, wink, wink).

My wife is the shopper, and I support her shopping sprees. I’m the driver and help carry the booty when we’re perambulating through shopping venues. She’s a meticulous and thoughtful shopper. Not one for quantity, she seeks quality and deals. She can go anywhere, though. Loves to visit Goodwill stores, flea markets, ‘thrift’ stores, and ‘vintage goods’ places, trying to sniff out interesting deals. She’s fond of shoes and doesn’t mind a shoe shopping spree. It just wears me out. Then again, with both of us, a shopping spree is a once in a while thing when the moon is the right color thing, and doesn’t often happen.

When it does, I’m in the driver seat, but she’s the navigator, telling me where to go.

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Sattida’s Wandering Thoughts

A man entered the coffee shop. Not paying much attention to him, I don’t know how old he might be.

A song was playing on the speakers: “Dancing Queen” by ABBA.

The man said to the baristas, “You know this song? I know it from Vietnam. I’d heard this song when we were surrounded by Viet Cong. Oh, man, what a nightmare.”

My mind did a little tumble as the guy hastened back out of the door. I pulled up Wikipedia to confirm what I was thinking: the Vietnam War ended in April of 1975.

“Dancing Queen” wasn’t released until August of 1976.

No way he heard that song when he was fighting in the Vietnam War.

Questions followed in my head. Was he deliberately lying, just creating something for part of a fake persona to gain attention, or had something screwed with his memory? Maybe he was just confusing songs…

Hard to say. These things happen to us. Part of being human.

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WTF, America

In another bit of WTF, America, some new DOGE bullshit springs into the spotlight.

Military to Remove ‘Enola Gay’ Photos for Violating DEI Rules

Images of “Enola Gay,” the aircraft that dropped an atomic bomb on Hiroshima in Japan are among those targeted by the U.S. military in an initiative to eliminate content related to diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI).

They are among a number of photos unrelated to DEI that have been mistakenly flagged, including those from an Army Corps of Engineers dredging project in California, seemingly because an engineer in the image had the last name “Gay.”

I mean, how, how, how amazingly ignorant is the Trusk Regime? How stupid is DOGE?

Beyond the fundamental stupidity of making a decision based on a single word, they are demonstrating amazing ignorance about our heritage. Our history.

Does that history matter to them? No, apparently not.

And that really brings the Trusk Regime’s crock of shit about ‘gay’, DEI, woke into an electron microscope level of insights. Our history is being denied based on some shallow, closed minds? They’ll deny the role of an aircraft in our history because of a single word, literally one of the most critical moments in modern human history, the one and only damn time when one nation used atomic or nuclear weapons on another nation? What are they going to do, rewrite the textbooks so that Colonel Paul Tibbets and his crew flew an unnamed aircraft on that historic mission? How much of a disservice is it to not just the crew that flew that machine but the enemy killed on the ground?

That’s just the damn bottom of the barrel, though. The Trusk Regime and the GOTP is trying to deny the role of anyone who does not fit their narrow, bigoted views. Gay, trans, lesbian military members who fought for the United States are being washed out of history by this pathetic group, most of whom never served in a military capacity.

Those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it. But those who deliberately wipe it out are bent on creating a new circle of ignorance.

But, I mean, come on. Seriously. What did we expect of ol’ Bone Spurs Trump? His grip on history and logic is pathetically weak.

He who cited the use of aircraft and airfields in the American Revolutionary War.

He who referred to Senator McCain, a navy aviator who was captured and held as a prisoner of war, as a loser.

He who warns of the threats of cancer from windmills, a claim without any merit.

He who used a marker to try to change the projected course of a hurricane.

He who had his staff saying that he suggested nuking a hurricane.

He who was documented to lie over 30,000 times in his first administration.

A man who still lies as much as he breathes.

That individual is a fucking idiot.

And you know what that makes his supporters and enablers.

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Frieda’s Wandering Thoughts

It seems to me that it’s strange to go to a coffee shop, plug in a game, and sit there, playing a few hours. I mean, I can see sitting there reading a book. That makes complete sense, as does doing homework and studying. I’m puzzled by those who come in, plug in, and watch movies or videos for hours. Of course, I also know what an energy suck that games, movies, and videos can be.

Then again, others probably find it strange for me to go to a coffee shop less than two miles from home, set up a computer and then spend hours there in pursuit of writing. I know from riding others’ blogs that some people find it pretentious.

I defend my writing with extenuating circumstances. Bet the rest can make the same defense. Bottom line, it’s all just as legitimate, normal, and natural in today’s tech world, so just get over it, boomer.

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Munda’s Wandering Thoughts

“Look,” my wife said. “An ant.”

She was pointing at the kitchen counter between the toaster and coffee maker. Yes, there was an ant. I widened my field of vision. “There’s another. And another.” I pointed them out.

We have ants. My wife and I, I mean. Not as pets; ants are invading.

We noticed them yesterday evening. Black, they’re about a quarter inch long. We don’t kill ants. Our philosophy about insects, spiders, and other critters is live and let live, but it must be our rules.

Ants in the house at this time of year is a surprise. In the past, they’ve invaded during the hot summers, when the ground was parched, and the ants sought water and relief from the blazing heat. Having them as guests in March is a real surprise. That makes us wonder, why now? What are they escaping outside? What do the ants know is happening that we don’t know.

Our process for dealing with things like this is to find their path and cut it off by cleaning without killing. That generally works. But having the visiting ants changes our behavior. I walk around, staring at surfaces, looking for more ants. So far, they seem to be limited to the southern wall, mostly around the fireplace and the dining room bay window. Not many; the most I’ve counted at one time is thirteen.

No trail is visible yet. We can’t figure out how they’re getting in, or where. But we’re on the case. Cuz, you know, we have ants.

And their presence causes a disturbance in the house.

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