Sunda’s Wandering Thoughts

I baked for the Independence Day festivities. I’m not usually the house baker but my wife thought I should bake as a blow against the patriarchy. So bake I did.

My baking was the modern kind: a brownie mix, egg, oil, water. Everything except the water was purchased at a store. The water came from my faucet, part of our city’s water and sewage systems.

I made circular brownies with M&Ms in a silicon baking pan created for that job. We have a gas oven with a timer and all that. I added the ingredients into a bowl per directions, preheated the oven to the temperature they told me to use, and doled the rich concoction into the waiting little cups built into the silicon ‘pan’. Then, see the timer for the time the instructions recommended, wait, watch, and test to see if they’re done, using the honored toothpick test.

The process allowed a lot of free time thinking. And that becomes my point. Baking has been around about 10,000 years. The earliest evidence of baking comes from Egypt, and not the United States. While it may have started around the Meditarranean Sea, it grew. Many peoples, cultures, and societies contributed to its growth and the lessons learned in what works. Then they passed it on. People took it up, tweaeked and refined it, documented it, and passed it on. People from many religions and ethnicities had a hand in it. Men and women, along with people of less certain genders baked, regardless of their sexual orientation, regardless of nationality or religion, until we reached this point that baking is a well-refined and understood process, simplified enough that even a neophyte like me can gather stuff and bake.

Here is my real point, something the Trump Regime and its half-assed backward, racist, sexist supporters want to dismiss. We live in a world of developments built on the shoulders of others. We’ve stacked advances and helped consolidate, perpetuate, and spread the gains. Name an industry and explore it, and amazingly, you’ll probably discover that it wasn’t all done by white Christian American men. Now the Trumpettes want to pretend that no one except white Americans did anything worthwhile, especially in the United States to deliver the success we’ve achieved as a nation, trying to bestow as much credit as possible on men and Christianity, even if they need to lie to make their case, which they do.

America First! Hell, the United States wouldn’t exist without immigration — and shall we talk to the peoples who lived in North America before the waves of explorers, settlers, and armies ‘discovered’ the land mass? America First! Our form of democratic government is derived from other nations, as is our mercantile system, which also depends on other nations for success.

Trump’s willful, deliberate ignorance won’t stand, although it will do serious damage. Progress comes from unforeseen developments as much as planned advances. We don’t know who will make a critical, game-changing insight. Trump is trying to pretend otherwise. He can successfully fake it for a while, but eventually, his willful stupidity will bite us all in the ass.

As always, time will tell when and how. Meanwhile, we grit our teeth and resist his ignorance as best as we can.

Sunda’s Theme Music

I begin my Sunda with the summer morning ritual. I step out to rebalance my circadian rhythm, feel the air temp, and give it a sniff test. How hot is it now and how much smoke is polluting the air are the dual concerns. Today it’s now 80 F, up from the 71 F holding when I first went out. We’ll be at 103 F today, a few degrees above yesterday’s 99.8 F. The smoke isn’t bad. I water things and close windows, sealing us against whatever nature is plotting against us today. I have learned that by closing the blinds and windows and keeping everything shut, we’ll be 13-15 degrees cooler than outside. We like to use fans to move the air when it warms, as the air conditioning, while cooling, makes our noses run. My wife is one who needs heat anyway.

This is Sunda, July 13, 2025. It’s a cousin’s birthday, but she passed away. Cancer. Cheery morning thought. Then I ate a lucious moderate-sized fig, savoring the experience with a slow chew, trying to be mindful. I don’t think I’m mindful enough. At 69 yo, can I become more mindful?

I jogged yesterday morning. It was a whim and I wasn’t prepared, just testing myself to see how far I could go before my body rebelled. The Fitbit says that was 2.5 miles, surprising me. It felt good. I jog walked home, thinking that I should combine those words and create a word: jolk. Yes, I jolked home, letting my sweat drip dry. No aftereffects strike this morning, knock wood. I thought I’d hurt somewhere.

ICE and wildfires dominates our news feed. Nextdoor reports an ICE vehicle was spotted in Ashlandia yesterday morning about 9:30 on Ashland Street by the cemetery. People advise others to report it on the app. A judge blocked random ICE raids in LA. We’ll see if this is appealed to the Roberts Court and swatted away. A man died from a fall during a chaotic ICE raid.

Getting news of the local fire plaguing us, the Neil Creek fire, is problematic. Something like 72 fires are burning in southern Oregon and northern California. The Neil Creek fire is closest to us but isn’t threatening anything (last heard) and is not large. Media focus is on the big burners. I understand that but my understanding doesn’t alleviate my frustration over lack of Neil Creek fire information. The last updates were days ago. Also, I haven’t seen or heard tankers since yesterday morning. Surely all this must mean good news, right? I finally find a Neil Creek fire update on Watchduty from fourteen hours ago. It’s five percent contained. Then there’s a summary:

Despite increased fire behavior, crews held fire lines with the help of helicopter water drops. Firefighters continue to strengthen lines and expand mop-up around the fire. Along the south end of the fire, crews removed hazardous standing dead trees to allow firefighters to access the southern perimeter safely.

There was an incident in the night. The neighbor’s dog erupted with furious barking. Bear or cougar, my wife thought, hurrying to the back door. She flicked on the lights and opens the door but stays in, leaning out to look around. I get a flashlight. By then the dog’s owner has talked the dog down and quiet has reclaimed the world.

“Overkill” by Men At Work is in the morning mental music stream. It’s all about the line, “I can’t get to sleep.” I awoke sometime in the night a few hours after the barking dog, mulled and dissected a dream and then the writing muses took over. I wrote for a while in my head before I managed to shut them down with a meditation process I use to induce sleep in myself. But the song remains in the morning mental music stream. While looking for a video to use, I found this accoustic version by Colin Hay, the band’s vocalist, where he’s backed by a choir. I thought it a cool difference maker and offer it to you.

Coffee has been sucked up. Time to press on. Hope your day answers your needs. Cheers

Satyrda’s Wandering Political Thoughts

Yeah, look how Trump has ‘made America great again’.

This is a classic Trump product: rolled out with great fanfare, but basically a piece of shit.

So that’s Trump’s thin, shallow idea of greatness. Build crappy places. Abuse other people in the name of religion and patriotism. Sell cheap goods for marked up prices. Tear lives apart. Destroy and enshittify. It’s mindless. Senseless.

The right wing likes to call out TDS: Trump Derangement Syndrome, a perjorative whenever people label Trump’s actions and words as negative. But the real TDS is their inability to see the truth. Or, with many, their preference for what he is doing: tearing down; destroying; enshittifying. Dehumanizing others. Dehumanizing themselves.

Why do that to a nation you profess to love unless you’re deranged?

Satyrda’s Theme Music

Welcome to Smoky Satyrda in Ashlandia. The smoke isn’t heavily visible but the smell of sodden wet wood hangs in the air and shifts my sinuses into overdrive to flush the crap back out. Yeah, poor me, right?

It’s 77 F now in Ashlandia with 99 F projected. The local troposphere looks up to it with blue skies gleaming down and a mighty sun raising up. Wouldn’t surprise to break 100 F; that’s the forecast for the valley overall.

A friend has fig trees on her land and gifted us with about five pounds of fresh, ripe figs. These things are huge and gorgeous. I’m married to a fignatic. We just spent $11 for a pint of figs the other day. They weren’t the best of figs but my house’s fignatic was happy to have them. You can imagine her joy from this gift. The figs are also a great addition to my morning diet. Yum. Pairs well with bananas. No so good with coffee.

I subscribe to multiple newsletters about books, writing, and publishing. One email subject said, “New Horror for your Summer”. I was like, no thanks, I have enough of that crap in the MAGALand daily news. For instance, when Trump’s gestapo rounds people up, their pets are often left alone in homes and apartments to die of thirst and starvation. This is Trump’s United States: cruel, mindless, thoughtless, heartless. Should I add greedy? That’s pretty fuckin’ self-evident when Trump brands and hawks new trinkets and consumer goods every month. Beyond that, there’s climate change and growing natural disasters around the world. As a couple nations war on each other and the wars threaten to engulf more geopolitical regions, TACO cuts back on the State Department and retreats.

Trump also announced he’s rolling out new tariffs. Will he or won’t he? TACO loves getting attention from making these announcements. Project 2025 goons installed in his regime loves him to do it, as they continue to operate under the distractions he generates with his blithering dithering — or is it dithering blithering? Trump makes announcements as the world burns and crashes around him, and the MAGAts clap in approval.

All that brings me to the morning mental music stream offering. After a surprisingly restless night and just one remembered dream (but a good dream), I found myself in the kitchen with a specific chorus echoing in the MMMS.

“Never free, never me, so I dub thee unforgiven. You labeled me, I’ll label you, so I dub thee unforgiven.”

Yes, that’s Metallica with their 1991 offering, “The Unforgiven”.

The Neurons were dubbing ICE agents as unforgiven. The entire damn Trump Regime is dubbed unforgiven, as are those senseless MAGAts who rolled this mess into existence. They’re unforgiven.

Have the best Satyrda you can. I plan to do the same. Cheers

Frida’s Wandering Political Thoughts

Just putting out reminders who Trump is because he likes pretending he’s someone else. I know I’m getting numb to it; I’m sure others are, too. We’re angry but numb.

Angry But Numb might be a good rock group name.

Floofsy

Where is the fur

Where is the purr

Where is the regarding gaze

Maybe out in the sun

Somewhere having fun

Or resting in some shade

Then he arrives

Taking me by surprise

Leaping onto my lap

To tell his news

Through chirps and mews

It’s my buddy, my fur friend, my cat

Frida’s Theme Music

Frida’s here and the smoke is here, and the heat is coming. It’s July 11, 2025, 68 F locally, 93 F pitched as the day’s high. I stepped outside to check it all out and smoke jumped into me and kickstarted my sinuses into broken water line mode. I ditched the outside work planned and vacuumed instead.

My spouse last used this vacuum. Like many Boomer Americans, we are over vacuumed. A cranky, ancient Hoover is on standby along with some Black & Decker Dustbuster copy cat, and a central vac system. I was using the central with the power head. This system features three outlets and a 30-foot long vacuum hose.

The hose was tangled into several knots. As I untangled it, I grumbled to myself about my wife’s tangling habits. I’d just untangled her hair dryer cord and her Apple laptop cord. This seems to be a world of tanglers and untanglers. Knotters and Unknotters.

Firings, tariffs, lies, and bullshit highlight the Trump news day cycle. More flooding struck several states; more wildfires have forced evacuations. The biggest news circulating at the mo seems to be Trump’s efforts to coerce Brazil not to enforce due process in their nation by slamming them with a 50% tariff. Such a law and order person, isn’t he? Yeah, that’s snark.

Today’s song is “Ride Captain Ride” by Blues Image. The song was popular in the U.S. in 1970. I recall being with my friend, Scott, and talking about the song, as he was supremely enamored with it. It’s a mellow rock tune and one that invoked a faraway cast to his gaze. I heard that he died of a drug overdose a few years later and have always wondered if the song about sailing to another world was his secret fantasty. Come on, we all have them, those secret fantasies. Before I move on from the song, I want to mention, this is the only Blue Image song I know.

Off to pursue my not-so-secret writing. Have the best Frida available. Cheers

Thirstda’s Theme Music

And we’re rocking, and we’re rolling, and we’re going through Thirstda, July 10, 2025. 66 F under smoke laced blue skies, 91 F is our high. Yesterday has some pleasant spots sprinkled liberally through the hours as a southerly wind carried the Neil Creek fire away. The winds have died and a listless, irritating smoke scent hangs. They are warning, “The heat is coming,” in a reversal of the Game of Thrones warning about winter. Both warnings are either met with a shrug by some or a grimace by complainers like me.

Don’t have interest in writing or thinking about bad news, which is most news these days. So I’m skipping over that. My dream machine continued functioning on high last night. I had one interesting dream where I went up to a pole to get books. About a foot thick and too high to know how tall it was, the pole was a hexagon and mostly dark green with writing on it which I never read. Others would sometimes be there, waiting to get backs. After repeat visits, I found I had four ways of getting books from the pole. One I described as magic, because the pole knew what I wanted and delivered the book to me just by thinking about, without even having a need to go to the pole. That pleased me immensely.

Today’s music is a song heard on television the other day. The Neurons took a liking to its jaunty, catchy style and brought it back to the morning mental music stream for today. It’s by Myles Smith, came out in 2024, and is called “Nice to Meet You”. Hope it catches on with you.

I went with the original and not the version with Lainey Wilson which came out a little later.

Hope you have a good day. Off to do yard work before the heat gets here. Cheers

Welcome to MAGALand

Jill Dennison is my online friend, and a staunch defender of justice, liberty, equality, and democracy. Jill found and shared a piece by Jay Kuo about the travesty sickly called ‘Alligator Alcatraz’. Trump likes to joke about prisoners trying to escape the nasty conditions ending ending up as a Mc gator meal. This is a place with the squalid and inhumane conditions of backwards areas of the 1900s United States, places we’d legislated against and outlawed out of respect for life. Now, under Trump, instead of advancing, we’re throwing away due process and law and order and sinking into the miasma of a third-world shithole.

Welcome to MAGALand.

Read it for yourself but be ready for your GRRRRRRRR meeting to go off the scale.

The Writing Moment

I like to write everyday. I enjoy writing fiction novels. It’s not just a goal for me; writing fiction every day is my center pole.

Sometimes I can’t do it, and the start of July was one of those times when life sabotage my efforts. First were dental appointments on July 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and a day of baking on July 3rd in preparation for July 4th, and then the holiday itself. July 5th was my birthday, so my writing was limited. A medical emergency stole my time and attention on July 6th. I swore to get back to it all on July 7th.

But when I say that I wasn’t writing, I mean that I wasn’t comfortably settling in a chair at a keyboard with a jug of coffee at hand. I kept writing in my head during the hours of driving, baking, sitting at the dentist, being social when I was supposed to be conversing with others, watching parades, attempting to sleep, or hanging around the ER waiting for test results.

Writing in my head was so magical and fast. When it came time to find the words and put it together with my coffee fuel, man, that was a different cat. Although I poured through two thousand words a day plus, a lot for me, stringing words together and revisiting and fixing my previous day’s work, I told my wife that it’s only now that I feel like I am finally catching up.

As I once blogged, I dream of a device that can take the scenes and spin into the needed words for me. Although, honestly, I don’t know if that would be nearly as much fun.

I guess, really, what it’s about for me is exploring the idea, seeing the story and hearing it, and then finding the words for others. May it always be so.

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