Tag: Cat

Frida’s Theme Music

Frida descended upon Ashlandia with lots of cloud and some precocious heat. 77 F now, May 9, 2025, is expected to crest in the low 80s as Fahrenheit measured it.

Another Papi experiment was conducted this morning. Papi is our housefloof, feline and orange in nature. He belonged to another family in the neighborhood. They left him behind when they moved. He’d already joined our household at that point.

So I learned this week that he responds well to “Psp, psp, psp.” It’s an electric change. I remember that his name when those others were supposed to be his people was Garfield. Like the comic strip and movies. So, after saying the “Psp, psp” thing, I called Papi, “Garfield.”

He was sitting in the dining room with his back toward me. I was entering the kitchen. On the “Psp, psp”, he cocked his ears and half turned his head. When I said, “Garfield,” he jerked completely around and issued a sharp, “Miaow.” To me, it seemed like acknowledgement that he knew that as his name from some once-upon-a-time period. I’ll continue calling him Papi. He knows that name as well.

I saw three stories yesterday that claimed that Trump is under pressure for various things. That, uh oh, the MAGA faithful were upset.

I laughed and scoffed under that. As long as he’s Trump, he’ll sooth them with some new lies. The right-wing media the faithful follow will read and return to their comfortable bubbles.

But hearing under pressure brought an enticement The Neurons were too weak to resist. That’s the song, “Under Pressure” by Queen and David Bowie. Back in the Freddie Mercury days. I’ve always enjoyed the song. I’ve used it as theme music before. Last time was in July, 2024. Remember what was happening in ‘Merica at that time? Yes, the election campaigning. I wrote about how old and tired Trump looked. He won. Now he looks older and more tired. For that to matter, the faithful would need to step into the sunshine of information and critical thinking. That ain’t happening.

Anyway, this version of “Under Pressure” is Queen without Mercury, with Annie Lennox and David Bowie. Watching it, I thought how Brian May and the other Queen members must feel for at least a slice of time, performing these old songs without their lead vocalist, Freddie Mercury. I know were I them, I’d have a little ache.

Reflecting on all that, I assume you know who David Bowie, et al, are. I assume you know that Freddie Mercury and David Bowie were the song’s original vocalists. I assume you know that they passed away. So many assumptions.

Also, personal opinion, but Bowie, Mercury, and Lennox are fascinating, charismatic vocalists. I felt pretty moved when they moved forward on the stage and sang the outre at 3:26.

‘Cause love’s such an old-fashioned word
And love dares you to care for
The people on the (People on streets) edge of the night
And love (People on streets) dares you to change our way of
Caring about ourselves
This is our last dance
This is our last dance
This is ourselves
Under pressure
Under pressure
Pressure

Coffee has been indulged anew. Frida is proceeding with the usual rhythms of my life. Hope yours is an uplifting and satisfying day. Over to you. Cheers

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Thirstda’s Wandering Thoughts

Our cat sitter surprised us with her report on Papi.

Papi is our male orange cat. When I describe him, I use words like sweet but cautious. Wary.

The cat sitter said, “He’s such a sweet boy.”

Yep. We agree.

“He was always there waiting for me or showed up as soon as I called him,” the cat sitter said.

What? Papi shows up for me but often ignores my wife. We always thought Papi was distrustful of women.

“And he always wanted me to pet him and talk to me and purr, the sitter said.

Papi’s behavior was completely contrary to my wife’s experiences with him. Even though she bribes him with treats.

I noticed the cat sitter used a different sound when dealing with Papi. We use a kissing sound. She employed, “Psp, psp, psp.”

So I tried that on Papi.

The change was electric. He whirled around and hurried to me, tail up.

My wife’s eyes widened. She issued, “Psp, psp, psp.”

Papi turned and looked at her. “He usually ignores me,” my wife said.

We talked it over and agreed, that must have been the sound people used around him when he was young. Who knows, of course. We do know that the result is amazing. He’s a much friendlier and relaxed floof with sound employed.

Details matter. As always, the problem is in figuring them out.

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Wenzda’s Theme Music

Warm air, clouds, and sunshine mugged us this morning. It’s Wenzda, May 7, 2025. 57 F when the bed rejected a few more minutes of shuteye, it’s now 2 PM and 74 F, on its way to a 78 F now. Don’t know if that’s possible. Cloud are jumping the sunlight. The temperature climb has stalled.

Papi, the ginger blade, aka Butter Butt, loves this warm stretch. Some shade is needed so he’s back in Boinn’s spot. Boin is Boo & Quinn. They both enjoyed and utilized that space behind some bushes against the bac fence. Like them, all I need to do to draw Papi out is step outside and into the grass. Then, click, as if activiated by a motion detector, he’s out, talking and stretching, heading toward me.

A dental appointment threw off today’s timing. That all went well. This was intro work. Snaps to see what my mouth looks like. A new bridge is needed. That’ll be $4400. Oral surgery to remove three defunct molars. $2500 each. $7500 total. Then I’ll need either implants or flex bas for the missing teeth. Flex bas are $750 each. Only two are needed, so $1500. Implants are $2500 each. Three would be needed, so $7500 for those. Xrays were $247. Cleaning will be $250. It all adds up. I want to think about what I want done.

The dentist, staff, and facilities all impressed me. The doctor told me she had to give me bad news about what was needed and referred to herself as Debby Downer. Thereafter, I referred to her as Doctor Downer.

Today’s music is fresh from hearing a knock on the door. “Who Can It Be Now?” I wondered. Righteously awakened, The Neurons introduced Men At Work singing the 1980s hit song in the morning mental music stream. Later, singing the song in my head, I recalled, “Is it the man come to take me away. Why do they follow me. Is it my future that I can see. Or is it fantasy?” Those words are ripe for these times. It feels like Trump and his Trumpnistas are about to burn the Constitution and go after anyone who doesn’t say they love Trump. Like me. I don’t love him. Never did and never will.

Coffee has been enjoyed. Work on bushes is singing a siren song. Off I go. Enjoy the music, your day, and your life. Cheers

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Sunda’s Theme Music

May 4, 2025, broke as a Sunda. Rain falling off in the night, blue sky and clouds mix it up in a friendly competition. Sunshine comes and goes with the clouds’ permission. The weather ‘they’ is hyping a high of 65 F, part of a warming trend for the week.

Dreams delivered today’s song. The dreams didn’t include the song. Disturbing as a loud animal roar in a coal-black night, the dreams had me scribbling details for well over an hour. Part of that was the phrase, “I’ve been thinking.” More usually followed. Now, though, The Neurons picked up the phrase, found where it belonged in a song, and rolled it for me. The result in the morning mental music stream was 1990’s song by Londonbeat, “I’ve Been Thinking About You”.

I’ve also been thinking about Mom. Her house is a mess without electricity. Day 5. She was convinced yesterday to go to my sister’s house and stay the night. Mom’s live-in boyfriend stayed at his daughter’s house. Taking care of her has been increasingly difficult for him. Her drugs and illnesses dull her mind and make her moody. She snaps at him. That’s worn thin. With her mobility lessening, he’s forced to carry her. She’s lost weight and doesn’t weigh more than a few birds these days. Still, weight is weight. Repetitive bending, lifting, and twisting is wearing out his 95-year-old body. Both have refused to leave her house and move into assisted living. But with her energy diminishing, his strength dropping, her senses dulling, and his eyesight and hearing worsening, will this be the straw that changes their mind?

We don’t know. More than anything, they’re independent and stubborn. I see so much of her in myself in these matters. Intellectually, I understand. Emotionally, it’s a far more complicated path.

My coffee is half gone. The cat has completed a few laps around the inside of the house. Now he’s gone to find sunshine. I want to do the same but I’ve planned a full agenda for myself. Who knows if I’ll stay with it.

I hope the best for you and your day, and us and our days. Deep breath; here we go. Cheers

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Frida’s Theme Music

And then, it was over as fast as it started. We’ve been on vacation. Florence, on the Oregon coast. Sunshine baked us across blue skies and light winds. Baked is relative. Temps only crossed into the sixties once. But when you’re not expecting sunshine, a wealth of it can feel skin melting. In a good way.

This morning, Frida, May 2, 2025, was our final day. Gone was the blue sky. Withered sunshine made little effort to offset the cold air. A light drizzle was falling by 9:30 AM. It amused me; last time that we stayed on the coast, we had a similar experience. I joked at that time, the sky was crying because we were leaving.

We had an update on Papi. Joanne, our traditional flooftender had taken on duties. Much easier when it’s just one floof. We used to have five.

Papi has always been skittish and standoffish. Wary. So we wore concern on our thoughts for his welfare while we were away. Lovely to hear from Joanne before we left the coast this morning that Papi was an absolute sweetheart. Either there and waiting for her when she arrived each morning and night, or immediately turning up when she called him. The Orange Boi was very pleased to see us and looks good.

Terrible news came to me by way of my sister. You may have heard about the windstorms that cut through part of the U.S. a few days ago. Mom’s house in Penn Hills, a Pittsburgh, PA, suburb, took on some damages. 100 year old trees were uprooted or lost substantial branches. The side porch was torn away, along with the roof to the tool shed. Fallen trees and branches conspired to keep vehicles from traversing the road. She lost electricity. Their phones were almost dead with no way to recharge them. Food in the frig and freezer was lost. Super sister sent her awesome hubby to check on them and discovered their state. Super hubby is a plumber and has friends and relatives in associated professionals. He soon had people over there clearing trees and writing estimates, others bringing by power banks to recharge their phones, electricians to assess the problems. While many things were addressed, Mom still lacks electrical power. Fortune did keep them safe and uninjured but it must have been a few traumatic days for this elderly couple, 89 and 95 years old.

Into the morning men..tal music stream today came Stevie Ray Vaughan & Double Trouble performing “Crossfire”. It’s one of SRV’s later efforts. A solid rocker, less bluesy than most of SRV & DT, I enjoy it. My wife is more of a purist and dislikes the song.

Politics had a part slotting it into my MMMS. The Neurons thought after reading about the quid pro quo nature of the Trusk Regime that “Crossfire” was ideal theme music for this second day of May. The song rhetorically inquires, “Whatever happened to the golden rule?” I believe that PINO Trusk has monetized it, along with every other thing in the U.S. He wasn’t alone in his efforts. Too many of us were far to willing to go along.

Back home now, we picked up some dinner and ate it. Unpacked all luggage. Washed the vacation clothes. Folded them and put them back into drawers and closets. Now we’re just resting and recovering from being away from home.

Hope your day has been spirited with happiness or at least some modicum of joy. If not, tomorrow is another chance. Cheers

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Munda’s Theme Music

Cold spring night ended with sunshine breaking apart the clouds like Jesus taking on the money changers. Blue sky smile down on us. Sunshine is tasked with warming us to 68 F, up from 46.

Papi likes having the pet door back on. He’s resumed his unique style. A paw is inserted into the space betwixt the flap and its flame. He pulls the flap toward him to enlarge a space. Then he sticks his head through. Creeps on in. Seeing me watching, he pauses. Confirms who I am. Greetings are exchanged. He comes on for some pets, treats, and cat nip. A little later, he reverses course. Heads for the sunny backyard.

But. A but always crops up. In this but, Papi still beats on the back door. Even though the pet door is open. I have applied some erratic noodling to it. I believe that the beating is his communication system. Like drums or smoke signals.

Papi sending smoke signals. Alarm inducing idea.

Papi was telling me that he wanted his water dish refilled and outside. I’ve pulled it in at night. Don’t want to encourage other wildlife to hang around. I’ve set up a water bowl for them in another area of the yard, around in the front, away from the doors. Papi detests drinking water in the house. Likes drinking it outside. We all have our foibles.

On to politics. Ugh. No. Full coffee saturation is required before I go there today.

All kinds of music occupy the morning mental music stream. Like rock concert going on in there. First up in heavy rotation was the Animals with “House of the Rising Sun.” Brought on by seeing the sunshine rising, brightening, filing the world, including our house. Then there was Chris Isaak. “Baby Did A Bad Bad Thing”. That was in response to some news article I read. Next came Aerosmith. “Walk This Way.” That came after my wife returned from her exercise class. I was reading, thinking, gaming. Wasting away the hours that make up a slow day. I finally said, “I got to get moving but my get up and go seems to have got up and went.”

So here is my morning mental music stream. Brought to you by The Neurons. The Neurons: when you don’t know what to think.

I enjoyed watching and listening to this video of The Animals. It brought back elements of another time and delivered smiles to me. Hope you find it the same, seeing those young individuals and the more primitive conditions of television and pop culture.

Listening to Chris Isaak has been tarnished by a “Friends” episode that featured Isaak as a guy dating Phoebe. He sings a few high notes. She starts laughing.

Coffee is at hand. Time to coffee up and go be me. You go be you. Let’s do the best we can. Come on, let’s walk this way. Cheers

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Saturda’s Theme Music

Papi cat is not happy. I know this because of the shouting meows. Not just the sound. He faces me and leans into it. Stretches his jaws wide. He’s Maria Callas using his diaphragm to belt it out.

“I know,” I tell him.

Rain fell all night. Sometimes in buckets. Papi is not a friend of rain. We also re-installed the pet door. In days past, Tucker slept on the mat in front of the pet door. That meant no other animal was entering. With Tucker gone, we decided the food bowls needed to be moved further away.

Background is, we had a buncha cats at one point. They usually didn’t get along. So we had three feeding stations. One in each the laundry room, the office, and the bedroom. In the bedroom, the feeding station lives by the wall beside the sliding door where the pet door resides. We thought it needed to be moved further away so that some passing animal didn’t sniff the kibble richness and come in through the pet door. Since Tucker is no longer guarding the pet door.

But all that change has Papi irritated. Pour the rain on top and he feels that the world is a cruel and injust place.

“I know,” I tell him. “I had to change my diet due to high blood pressure. It sucks.”

“Meyeah,” Papi wailed back.

Yes, it has rained all night. It’s wet and chilly this morning. 44 F and rain. The high will be 51 F and rain. The low will be 41 F and rain. The rain is good for the land, we remind each other. The pep in our pep talks is petering out, though. Everyone wants sunshine until they don’t. Then we want rain. Until we don’t. It’s the cycle of complaint. Weather version.

This is Saturda. April 26, 2025. Still spring in Ashlandia. And typical Ashlandia spring weather.

I’m a little miffed. I had yard plans. I’d been making progress. The rain has placed a pause on the cause. I can’t do the things planned, cause rain and electric power equipment. I’ve read somewhere that they are not a good combination.

I’m happy it’s Saturday. The news cycle slows on the weekends. News doesn’t stop but less people are reporting and airing it. Much as I’d like a break from it, we need to stay vigilant against the Trusk Regime’s evil. That evil goes 24/7. Just when you think their empathy has bottomed, they show a lower side. Most recently, they deported a two-year US citizen. Because, Trump. He no like the 16th Amendment. So he decided to ignore it. Because that’s what you do if you dislike laws. It’s the Trump U.S.A. way.

Snark alert: The other ‘good’ news is that the number of measles cases keep rising. Looks like RFK Jr’s plans just can’t get an angle on stopping it. Probably because he eschews using science and medicine.

Final bit of irritating news. Trump says he’s talking to China about the tariffs. China says, “No, he isn’t.” Either side could be lying. Given Trump’s record, I believe it’s him. Trump is lying. Yet again.

Puttering through the kitchen at pre-coffee speed, The Neurons raised a line in my head. “Let me remember things I don’t know.” I further slowed. I know the line. That wasn’t the line. That was a mondegreen: a misunderstood song line. Urging The Neurons into more effort, the song and real line punched in:

“Let me remember things I love, Lord.” CCR. “Green River”.

Coffee has made a safe landing in my body. Dressed, fed, and caffeinated, I am re-animated for another day. Hope you have a day that works in your favorite. It can happen. Cheers

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Twosda’s Theme Music

At 4:07 AM, the cat announced, “Let’s go!” Yes, he batted and chatted me awake enough to sleep walk to the door and release him back into the wild. He didn’t stay in the wild long. Cold, wind, and hunger drove him back in. “Not that wild, are you?” I asked him. He meowed back.

Thus began Twosda, April 22, 2025, much as many other days begin. Twosda and Thirstdas are the worse for me in this regard. My wife gets up early on Mun-Wen-Fri to attend exercise class. She deals with the cat between 6:30 and 8 AM on those days. But today has Papi testing the limits, in and out. I suspect he has two twins and they’re taking turns at this.

It was 39 F at 4:30 AM. If you trust Alexa. I asked it the temperature after Papi came back in. I was curious because it felt cold to my half-naked body. Like Sun & Mun, today features a clear blue-sky sauce and a glaze of sunshine with a tincture of wind and mild temperatures that lose their punch in the mid to upper sixties.

Trump continues to pile instability on instability, crazy on crazy, losses on losses. Like all great leaders, he sets ridiculous goals using ideologically-driven data, fails to take many details and factors into account, and then pretends it’s going great as everyone else prepares to get out the toilet plunger because this shit is overwhelming the crapper. He is consistently terrible and proud of it. Living in a Teflon-coated bubble, he’ll probably never recognize his insanity and the disastrous, negative impact he delivered to millions of people.

Unless, of course, his secret goal is to completely undermine and destroy the United States. That’s also possible. He could well be in collusion with Russian and oil oligarchs and are busy setting the table up to establish a powerful global cabal. Makes as much sense as any other shit he spreads.

They say that the Roberts Court is finally getting a backbone. “They’ll reign Trump in.” Ha. I think Trump is already smirking at the Roberts Court as he says, “Hold my Big Mac.” Harvard and other universities are suing the Trusk Regime. He doesn’t care. He’s already destabilized and disrupted our education systems and research programs. A third of the national NOAA weather offices have lost their leases. We’ll see what that does to the ability to warn about weather disasters. Then, Trump and Noem have been dismantling FEMA, so when these disaster squat on communities and drop a load, the state and community will struggle to recover and rebuild. Meanwhile, DOGE is raiding personal data and will probably weaponize that on behalf of Russia. He’s truncated international alliances and friendships that effectively worked for over half a century, isolating our nation. Besides all that, he’s been running due process over with a golf court.

And Trump and his supporters think this is just great. Anyway…onward.

When I first heard this Led Zeppelin song when I was thirteen, I thought, holy fucking shit. That was a startling development because I’d never sworn before that. That’s when I took up coffee, too. It all seemed to go together.

The song — “How Many More Times” — is in my morning mental music stream for reasons which The Neurons have sealed. They have better security than Kristi Noem and keep secrets more effectively than Pet (Pete) Hegseth. Not saying much, given how terrible and sloppy the Trump Regime has demonstrated itself to be, outside of the Musk-driven DOGE dogs.

Here is the music. When I listened to it today, my inner thirteen-year-old sat up and said, “Holy fucking shit.” This is a recording of a live show. Anyone familiar with Zep knows it’s gonna be a jam and will vary a bit from what was on the album.

Coffee has again insinuated itself into my body’s systems. I’m prepared to rock another day, at least until nap time later today. Hope your day is as purpose-filled as you need it. Carpe diem. Cheers

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Munda’s Wandering Thoughts

The cat is sitting across the room by the open back door. His name is Papi. He’s either orange or a ginger. I’ve never given it much thought.

Smiling, I cross to pet him. He shouts out a plaintive and loud three-syllable meow.

I stop and looked at him. “That was annoying.”

His eyes shift. He’s making a mental note.

That confirms for me, that meow was part of Project Irritation.

I’m still putting Project Irritation together. I believe its overall scope is for the cat to try things and then document how I react. He can then put his findings to use to control my behavior.

I offer this with all seriousness. It’s the only idea that can explain the many meows he’s been employing in the last week.

Besides the Meow Phase of Project Irritation, I believe he’s also testing the limits of how often I will let him in and out of the house. He’s also conducting experiments on me by using differing reactions to his food. No doubt, he’s attempting to steer his food choices by indoctrinating me based on how he reacts to his food. He’s long sussed out that I’m his feeder and care giver.

Now he just needs to study me and take control.

It’s probably part of a more extensive cat project: “How to dominate the world”.

They already have the Internet close to completely in their paws. It’s only a matter of meows before they control the rest.

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Munda’s Theme Music

My body and mind were unanimous. More sleep was wanted. Yesterday was busy with an Easter Brunch. We’d been preparing all week. 10:15, we set off to go help with setup. By 11:30, all were there. A smorgasbord awaited. Mexican quiche, salmon with asparagus, salmon and cream cheese rolls. Dutch babies and lemon cake for dessert. Salads. Juices and libation to make it chippier. Easter egg hunt and korn hole. A half dozen present shared their latest stories about demonstrating against Trump in Ashland and Medford. 2 PM, it was all over.

Over to a friend’s house for his 93rd birthday. Just family and my wife and I. He has health issues and didn’t want a gathering. After singing the birthday song, witnessing the candle blowout, and visiting for two hours, we headed home to unpack and wash everything.

Blue skies were the day’s order. Light wind kept it from becoming too warm. 69 F was the tops. Today seems like it looked over yesterday’s shoulder and copied the weather.

I reminded my body and mind that sleeping in wasn’t an option. Today is Food & Friends deliveries. Crank up the car, pick up the food, and roll through the streets on route 3 to knock on doors and ring bells and drop off a small meal in southeastern Ashlandia. I’m the driver; my wife makes the deliveries.

Then, finally, it’ll be back to writing at the coffee shop for a few hours, and then home to wash clothes and attend yard work. The grass and weeds are gladded by the sunshine. It’s all shooting up fast.

Papi is beside himself with happiness by the time the air warms. It’s rolled up to 49 F now. He heads outside and sniffs out the sunshine. Then wind sniffs him out and he’s back in. It’s a never-ending game of ‘In & Out’!

The mountain air loads the night with temperatures that dribble down into the mid thirties. That temp feels colder. But we’re on the regular Ashlandia spring track. Only troubling thing is we’re not seeing any bees. They’re normally all over the place with their buzzing presence. Their absence disturbs.

Yesterday’s Easter Trump dump again illuminated his pathetic ways. That vitriol and lie-filled text mess is a sign of an insecure, demented, ignorant person. Trump’s dark forces again rose to show what a sinister and ugly place the United States is becoming under his hand as two young and wholly innocent German tourists were detained and deported, all for the crime of not having accommodations already reserved. Such fools are now in charge. Then there’s Trump’s undocumented bullshit broadside against Abrego Garcia. WTF, United States. Is this truly your vision?

With those thoughts spinning through my groovy organic thought machine, The Neurons spun up Aerosmith in the morning mental music stream: “Same Old Song and Dance”. Last time I used this ditty was in 2019. Trump occupied the White House then. I wrote back on that day,

Reading the news yesterday and today, I was shaking my head, partially laughing while crying. You know, it was the same old story.

That led to me streaming Aerosmith.

It’s the same old story
Same old song and dance, my friend
It’s the same old story
Same old story
Same old song and dance

It was an easy song to identify with when I was a teenager and the song was released. When you asked questions, you often heard, “That’s just how it is. That’s how it goes.” It was always the same old song and dance, no matter what you were asked.

So here we go. Trump is attacking and bullying whatever he can — law, courts, common sense, history, morality, it’s all open to a Trump attack. He’s like a puppy gnawing on clothes, shoes, and furniture. Nothing is safe from his brainless chewing. A puppy does far less damage, though. A puppy will grow out of it. Trump, with his deteriorating and aging mental capacity, will get worse.

Same ol’ story, same ol’ song and dance.

Have the best day you can, my friend. Fueled with coffee, I’ll rock on for another day, it seems. Cheers

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