Tag: challenges

Thursday’s Theme Music — Insanity

Ashland, southern Oregon. Thursday, September 3, 2026.

Cool rainy weather continues here. Today’s high will be 63 degrees F, ten degrees above the present temp. Blue sky is a memory as gray clouds take over from horizon to horizon, no matter where I look. Rain fell yesterday, and it was very enjoyable, almost springlike to me. No more rain is expected today; just clouds and cool temperatures.

My sister, Gina, is irritated with Mom again. This is about Mom’s Amazon purchases but also this new account Gina set up. Apparently, Mom can only have six transactions a month. Mom used three on Amazon already, then Gina paid three bills but forgot to include those for her calculations for Mom’s account, so Mom now can’t spend any more money in September, according to Gina. As she’s not communicating with Mom, she is asking one of us to tell Mom for her. I think Gina needs to own it.

I admit, I’m a little irked with Gina’s thinking here. On the one hand, she’s complaining about Mom’s deteriorating mental state and memory. On the other hand, she sets Mom up with an account with expectations that Mom will think of everything she’ll need for the month and place one order. Hard to fault Gina, though, because she — almost alone — is the one child living locally trying to help Mom.

My wife told me about a mother of five being convicted. Her crime was letting her five-year-old walk a few blocks by himself in their gated community in Virginia.

My wife and I were astonished. Our parents would’ve been thrown under the jail, as much as we freely roamed. I walked, ran, and biked everywhere, starting when I was about five. By the time I was twelve, I was hitching rides with strangers. On the other hand, maybe I was just lucky that nobody wanted to get me during that era. No one tried that until I was sixteen, when a crew-cut man in a pickup truck in his early fifties begged me to show him my pecker and offered money.

Today’s news has alarming moves revealed by the US Postal Service. As expected, Trump is trying to weaponize the USPS to stop voting by mail. As he and the GOP take a wrecking ball to nation’s norms, buildings, arts, laws, economy, healthcare system, and military, Trump is trying to keep as many people as possible from voting. He claims voting fraud but has never proven it. Likewise, other than small and isolated amounts, it’s never been found or proven elsewhere in the nation in this century.

Trump, though, is at once desperate to claim he’s popular by making the mid-term elections about him. He’s also afraid of that truth that he’s not popular. Whenever a candidate backed by Trump losing, Trump blames the candidate. Of course, the candidates he’s backed aren’t generally quality people, either, so there’s a load of blame to spread around.

In Texas, Trump is both trashing the GOP candidate, Ken Paxton, and urging for people to vote for Paxton. Like talking about how bad a restaurant is and then urging you to eat there, isn’t it?

Paxton is a GOPer modeled after Trump. Paxton paid $300K to get securities fraud charges against him dropped, and his wife is divorcing Paxton after reports of numerous affairs.

Big question: is Paxton also in the Epstein files, like Trump?

This was a hilarious headline:

Donald Trump ‘will quit after midterms and hand presidency to Vance’, expert predicts

That’s so ridiculous it’s not worth addressing beyond noting its existence.

Well, I also will say, if you think Trump is going to quit, I have a Trump Bible to sell you, barely used.

Speaking of selling, the Trump coin is officially available to buy. Except it’s sold out. And it’s a collectible, not legal tender. Talking about it with my wife, she asked, “Is that all they do, sit around talking about ways for Trump to put his name on things and make money?”

I read that another judge ruled against another Trump effort to ignore the Constitution and Amendments. That prompted “I’ll Stick Around” by Foo Fighters in the morning mental music stream.

Why that song? The song was released in 1995 and was It seemed to come from thinking about refusing to accept all the crap Trump is doing to our world. Then, thinking about why MAGAts go along with it. Then, reflecting on history — McCarthyism, the Ku Klux Klan, the way blacks, the people who lived on this continent before us, women — anyone who wasn’t white CIS male — was treated.

We overcame those things before; we need to overcome them again. And this song speaks to that: “I don’t owe you anything.” I’m speaking to the MAGAts who believe they’ve had it so bad.

Sample Lyrics

I still refused all the methods you abused
It’s alright if you’re confused, let me be
I’ve been around all the pawns you’ve gagged and bound
They’ll come back and knock you down and I’ll be free

I’ve taken all and I’ve endured
One day it all will fade, I’m sure

I don’t owe you anything
I don’t owe you anything
I don’t owe you anything
I don’t owe you anything

I had no hand in your ever desperate plan
It returns and when it lands, words are due
I should’ve known we were better off alone
I looked in and I was shown, you were too

I’ll close with wishes for you to achieve and persevere today and everything, in good health, with good friends. Peace and grace to you.

Cheers

1

The Cork Dream

I dreamed I was at my mother’s house. It wasn’t her real-life house but I knew what it was in my dream. Although everything was white, there was little light.

I was trying to open some kind of cistern. As it transpired, I knew that it was wine I tried opening, to see how it was. It was supposed to be red wine.

I was being very careful, meticulous, because I worried about the cork falling apart. But it wasn’t the ‘traditional’ cork stopper, but a round, flat circle.

My youngest sister joined me. She asked what I was doing and I softly explained it as she leaned over me and watched. I had just gotten the safely out when something fell into the wine.

I asked my sister, “Did you see that?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“Was that a piece of the cork falling in?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so.” I sat back. “All that work and I got it out and then it broke and fell in.”

I smiled at her. “Oh, well.”

Laughing, she replied, “I know.”

2

Running Late: A Dream

I was running late! Very late!

Arriving at where I needed and expected to be – which was never fully realized but was full of busy people – I found the people I work with/for were gone! Worse, I didn’t have the clothing or office equipment like computers and phones which I required.

Tense seconds were spent cursing and thinking. Then, I knew that my team would have provided for me. I just needed to find that stuff.

Considering the environment, I didn’t see anywhere or anything obvious until I spotted a pallet of trash.

Yes, they would hide it there.

I pulled the top of the trash away. Below it was a large black plastic shipping bag. I tugged it out and opened it. Inside were materials marked with my name, including phone, laptop, clothing, and several folders containing information about my assignment and tickets for my trip.

Relieved, I dressed and began wending through the crowd, on my way again.

0

A Work Dream

Despite not working for anyone since 2016, I had another work-related dream last night. This wasn’t from my last employment with IBM but was with one of the medical startups from earlier, shortly after retiring from the U.S. Air Force.

We were in a large, clean, bright room. The company’s engineering section, thirteen people, including their director, were at tables shoved together across the room. I, the lone marketing person, sat on the room’s other side, alone.

Wanting to be involved, I moved over there and asked for permission to sit in on their meeting. They were developing the product I would market, after all, and I was part of the team that collected input on the product’s design. The director and others said, “Sure,” so I sat at the edge, so I wouldn’t be intrusive.

Note that all of these people were known co-workers from real life from two different medical device startups.

Not feeling included, I left after a short period, returning to my space. But I had nothing to do; no assignments, no emails, no phone calls.

With no warning, children suddenly swarmed our workspace. I don’t know why they were there. Crossing back to the engineers, I discovered that they were gone, then spotted them leaving the building.

I followed them out. They were going up a dirt path into the mountains, past large boulders and pine trees. One said, “Look, there’s a huge bald eagle up there.” He pointed.

I nodded; I’d heard about the bird earlier and had seen it. I didn’t know what the engineers were doing. Seemed like it could’ve been some team-building exercise, so I left again.

Heading back down to our office, I realized that my boss was in Paris for a trade show. I’d not heard anything from her, which was unusual. Then I realized that she hadn’t included me in any of the show prep.

Deciding that I didn’t really have a job, I thought that I should probably look for new employment and began compiling a resignation letter in my mind as I walked.

Dream end.

0

A Road Trip Dream

I was setting out on a trip with three friends. Only one — Ron, an older man — translates to a current real-life person. Ron was just as he is in real life. The others, also males, were known.

One interesting note that emerged and wove throughout were two others, both female. They sometimes joined the journey, and Ron and I discussed whether they would be with us. The two women, both brunettes, one in a red top with black pants and the other wearing a bright blue top, would only appear and not speak directly to me.

We were riding in Ron’s truck. This was beige and big, with a four-door cab and a luxurious tan leather interior. Though Ron was driving, he was in the backseat. I was alongside him. He’d put the car on autopilot, so it was essentially driving itself with him just monitoring what was going on.

I kicked back beside him on the back seat. Stretching my legs out, my foot ended up hitting the steering wheel. That put us off course. Because of the way I was reclined, it took several seconds of jostling to get my foot out of the way. During that time, we went off the road and onto the shoulder but didn’t slow. Ron finally steered us back on course and returned the truck to autopilot, but now he was worried and concerned the police would pull us over.

We arrived at our destination — a huge furniture store. I’d never been to it. The floor was hard dirt. All furniture was antique white. Despite the floor and the limited offering, the store was very busy. The women showed up briefly. The others spoke with them while I went out to another section of store.

The next store section was filled with tables and chrome appliances. The appliances turned out to be food and drink dispensers. Needing to use a restaurant, I did some bowel business but discovered the toilet didn’t have any way to flush. Removing my fecal material with a wad of paper towels, I looked for a way to dispose of it. I found one but they wanted me to pay money to flush it away. I refused, angry and disgusted that they’d monetized flushing away our body functions. I instead found a small white bag, put the materials in there, and set it on a table, telling myself, it would be someone else’s problem.

I then reconnected with my friends. I told Ron that when we went back, I wanted to sit in the front and stretch out and sleep. He looked at me with confusion but didn’t reply. The two women came by. One said she had to go off and find her children.

My friends and I went to another section. People there were seated, waiting to pay for their selections. I stopped before one man and did a giddy tap dance. The man, overweight and big with swarthy skin and a white cowboy hat, ordered, “Stop that.” Laughing, I kept dancing but moved to another section. Another man who I didn’t see said, “Stop that,” but I laughed and danced away.

My friends met up with me again. All were surprised that I was tap dancing and thought it strange. They wondered how I learned it. I replied, “I’ve always known how to tap dance. Nobody ever needed to teach me. I just knew. I just don’t do it much.”

Dream end.

1

Mom Update

Mom and her boyfriend appear to be ready to move out of Mom’s house.

This is a big step for Mom. Not only is it a familiar place, a comfortable place for her, but it’s rich with history. She lost her previous house in divorce proceedings when the two parties agreed that selling is what needed to be done, as neither could afford to pay the mortgage on their own. Mom then saved for years for a place that she could afford on her own. This place was finally the one. Like Mom, the house has a lot of charm. Now both are old.

Mom fixed up that home through the years. Seventeen grand and greatgrandchildren have visited it for parties, holidays, and celebrations. She hadn’t finished high school; while living in that house, she got her GED. She then went on to become a nurse, RN & LPN. She was rightfully very proud of those accomplishments.

Her house has always tidy and spotless. Cleaning and cooking, having family, are her passions. But the house, with its narrow, step stairs, are no longer a safe place for her. That’s painful to acknowledge. Her physical limitations keep her from cooking and cleaning. The grands and greats rarely visit because Mom is mostly tired, medicated, and bed-ridden. She depends on her boyfriend. Now 95, he’s finally up against limitations. He becomes dizzy and falls. It’s not a good situation for the two of them. Now, he has mass in his lung which might be cancer, but with his age, they don’t feel there’s any worthwhile treatments for him.

Like many things, there are more factors swirling underneath the surface emotions, conversations, and actions. Like, he doesn’t want to pay rent, which he would need to do in the new place, because he wants to leave money for his children, grandchildren, etc. This is mostly an ego thing because all of his offspring are well off. And if he has cancer and becomes sicker and worse…well, that doesn’t need to be spelled out. We can all visualize the added complexities.

Egos, complexities, and history are all part of the package. Nothing can just be dimissed. It must be lived through, endured, and shaped until it fits the current moment.

That’s life.

1

The Best Years Dream

Totally different environment for me. A young man, I didn’t look anything like the me from RL, except of the commonalities of being a white male with brown hair. I’d joined a household. I’m not sure what my status. I was given tasks and expected to get them done. I was working alone.

I was working alone, going in and out of the kitchen to the outside, as others came but mostly went. They ignored me so I only glanced at them, seeing who they were and so on. My job was to select fruit, mostly pears, to throw away. The pears were large, of the Bartlett or Bosc varieties often found in grocery stores, but larger than you’d find. Some were almost as large as my head.

As I worked this, transferring them from one location to another, I thought, why are we throwing these pears away? After examining them, I questioned what was going on and concluded they would be perfectly good to eat. Changing my process, I removed the tossed pears to a kitchen location and moved the rest of the pears there.

Then, on a whim, I made lunch for everyone. I wasn’t certain what to do and learned on the fly but made and baked a square pizza. Without planning to, I ended up with a house on it. As I did this, I encountered a bearded man with curly hair leaving the bathroom. Saying, “Excuse me,” I pushed past him, but thought, who is he?

I turned back and introduced myself, sticking out my hand as I did. “Michael,” I said.

We shook as he said, “Patrick.” But he didn’t call me Michael at any point in the dream. The name he called me was something like Metcalf.

Most of the people, including the head man, had returned. Seeing the pears, he said, “What are those?”

I explained what I’d done and asked him, “Do you think you can eat these?”

I cut one up for his inspection. As he looked at it, he said, “Where did these come from?”

“There were grown here, in your garden,” I replied.

He looked at a woman beside him and asked, “Is this true?”

“Yes,” she answered.

I gathered that he didn’t know what he was growing here.

Next, I showed them my house pizza. Patrick and others declared that they wouldn’t eat it. They thought it inedible. I defended the pizza but they refused. Shrugging that off, I cut some off and ate it myself, finding it delicious.

We’d moved outside. There were sixteen or seventeen of us on a sloping green lawn. As a sort of outside, I was on the edge and alone. A tiger approached me. Patrick said, “Don’t worry [some name], I’ll take care of him.”

Annoyed, I answered, “That’s not my name, and I’m not worried.”

They began talking. I asked, “What are you talking about?” None replied to me, feeding my irritation.

Finally Patrick said, “You haven’t said what you think, [some name].”

I said, “Why can’t you get my name right? I introduced myself to you. I’m Michael. And I can’t say what I think because none of you would tell me what you’re talking about.”

The head guy said, “We’re talking about how we would summarize 2022. What would you say about it?”

After a second of thought, I said, “I’d call it one of the best years in the last fifty years.” I was saying that to get a rise out of them because they’d been saying that it was a bad year. Then, doing the math, because ‘fifty’ was an impulse, I realized that fifty years ago was when I turned sixteen.

Dream end.

0

Wednesday’s Wandering Thought

He did another little DIY project, replacing the diverter on a bathtub spout. Not difficult, and yet it solved a minor problem, and that felt satisfying.

After that, he wandered around the house, searching for other things to fix. Finding nothing (although some caulking could be in order), he instead culled their financial files, taking out and shredding years of information. It, too, was satisfying, but in a different way.

What next, he wondered. What next?

0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑