Tag: change

Munda’s Theme Music

Winter is still taking a knife to spring. You feel it in the air.

“It’s cold,” my wife says.

“I know. Thirty-nine degrees.”

“Isn’t April tomorrow?”

I confirm that my Fitbit tells me that it’s March 31, 2025. “This is Ashlandia. What’s that have to do with it?”

My wife stares at the window. “I don’t see any blue sky.”

I look out with her. “It’s raining. Happy Monday.”

She’s off to her exercise class. I am alone in the house. I’ve not been alone in the house for almost three weeks. Not like that will cause me to run around naked. I do that even if she’s here. “You’re a frustrated nudist,” she tells me.

“Maybe.”

It’s supposed to be 50 degrees as a high today. Probably will make that but will feel like 48. Even with the house to my self, I putter through the standard processes. Coffee, exercise, and food is still needed. The cat’s routine is focused on me so that didn’t change.

Papi isn’t pleased with the weather, either. The wind has died. That’s a plus in the cat’s mind. When the wind is blowin’ hard, he vacillates about where to go and what to do. Without the wind, he’s willing to risk the rain for a chance of sunshine. When that doesn’t appear, he sounds the alarm to get back into the house. Then we start again.

I found him sitting on the entry way bench yesterday. That was once Tucker’s domain. The bench is located at the intersection between the main hall, foyer, and kitchen. The big black and white cat loved being up front where he could observe everything going on and greet visitors.

“I guess you are the number one cat,” I told Papi. Apparently my tone annoyed him. He jumped down and marched into the living room to groom.

I have the Young Rascals’ jumping cover of “Good Lovin'” in my morning mental music stream. The Neurons who put it there are mum why. Coming out in 1966, it played on the ten-year-old me’s radios all the time, it felt. I love the organ work. The group later shortened their name to the Rascals. The ‘young’ addition to the band’s name was to avoid conflict with the Harmonica Rascals. There was probably a group called the Guitar Rascals that didn’t make it. Funny, but ‘rascals’ is another of those words with an old-fashioned feel and has faded from use.

Interesting outfits on the band in the video. They appear to be wearing compression stockings like the ones I wear. Disappointing sound quality, though.

I have supped with coffee again and now I’m on my way. Hope your day is worthy of your attention. Cheers

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Munda’s Wandering Thoughts

Mom isn’t speaking to her live-in boyfriend again. Hormones? Mom is 89 and her boyfriend is 95.

The cause of the rift is ‘his girlfriend’. His best friend died last year. Mom thinks her beau has a thing for the man’s widow. The widow called him last Saturday. Mom said she and her boyfriend haven’t spoken since that phone call.

I blame it on drama. Mom lives for being the center of a dramado. If one doesn’t naturally occur, she’ll conjure it.

Take her falls. She falls a lot. ‘Bout every six weeks by my estimate. Ends up injuring herself. She generally falls while cleaning or dressing herself.

Now, the situation can be changed. Mom can move into assisted living. My sisters and I encourage her to do that. We told her we will pay for it. But nope. Mom won’t because her boyfriend — the one she isn’t speaking to, because, per her, he has another girlfriend — says he doesn’t want to move out of the house and they are a package deal.

Okay. How ’bout if we have someone come in and help her? I did hire someone to come in and clean. Originally twice a week. Then once a week. Then every other week. Then once a month, Mom slowly moved her back out. The cleaning person then experienced her own health issues and has never returned.

How ’bout having some medical assitance come in a few times a week then, etc? No, Mom doesn’t want to have anyone coming to the house. That would mean she would need to clean herself up first, clean the house, etc. No, no, no.

Bottom line, she has established her path and remains firmly on it.

Yes, I’m writing simplistically about the routines, emotions, psychology, etc., of these decisions. I do sympathize and empathize with her position. But this challenge has been going on for half a decade. My sisters have each bowed out of the discussions. It’s only Mom and I talking about it now, and she doesn’t really talk. She just says no.

She wrote last week and asked, when can I come back again? Sadly, my life is out here, in Oregon, with my wife and my own issues. So, sorry, Mom, can just vacate my life again, as I’ve done a couple times before.

So there we sit, awaiting the next drama.

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Oh, The Wonder

Daily writing prompt
How do significant life events or the passage of time influence your perspective on life?
View all responses

Time’s spend has changed since I was a child. Then I came to understand, oh, it’s not time that changed, it’s me. Time speeds up as we age. But with time passing, I also gain greater perspective. I can look back at certain events and interactions and comprehend them with better insights because my life’s experiences expanded my base of understanding.

And I have found that I can keep learning. But changing? Changing also becomes harder as I age. It seems like I’m like water. Like a stream, I was looking for my course to follow. Once finding it, I don’t want to leave it.

Time’s passing also changed perspectives on fashion. I’m less enthused about dressing to impress others these days and more focused on being comfortable. I can more easily shrug off others’ opinions of me because I know how transitory and incidental these things are.

My final observation was that I didn’t really fully appreciate my body when I was younger. As I aged, different alarms went off at specific times, triggering events and changes that I never expected. Like my metabolism jumping off a cliff. And my prostate en

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The Lost Tables Dream

This was obviously a dream about change. Anxiety. Confusion.

My wife and I were young people. We had a habit of driving to work together. We were taking turns driving. One would drive one day, the other would drive the next day. The dream showed this happening. Different cars for her and me; my car was a black sports car. Don’t know any details of it. Less is known of her car.

Although always going to the same place, part of our daily drive process was to consult on our phone about where we were going. That’s because the path changed every day. So whoever wasn’t driving was tasked with looking up the destination on the map and give driving instructions.

The dream showed this. I drove, she drove, I drove, she drove, etc. She looked up the directions, I looked them up, she looked them up, I looked them up.

Traffic was busy each day but the weather was good.

Our daily destination was a parking lot by a restaurant. We’d park near there and go on our separate ways to work. After numerous days of this, I was driving. My wife was looking up the instructions. But she was struggling with a signal and I, meanwhile, had made some guesses and found the way. She announced, “Got it,” right as we arrived at the restaurant.

But as I pulled up, I noticed that it was completely different. All of its tables were gone. The usually thriving place was completely empty.

Stunned, I told my wife, “Look. Something happened.” She was busy getting out of the car and heading to work so I repeated myself several times, further elaborating, “There’s no one there. The tables are gone. The place is empty.”

She left for work. I walked over to the area and then walked through the empty place, wondering how it had all changed, seemingly overnight. What I wondered most was, where are all the tables? They had so many tables. There was no sign that any tables had ever been there. As I stood there looking, I saw others hurryng by in the sunshine.

None gave the place a second look.

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Sunda’s Theme Music

Mood: coldasfrickinice

Winter left frosty white prints all over the valley this morning. Well, on the house’s western side. Out back, it’s green and almost springlike in appearance, until you step out and the 21 degrees F slaps your face.

This is Sunda, January 19, 2025. A freezing fog advisory is in effect but the crazy frog has vacated my area. Sunshine is instead smooching everything, causing stretches of vapor clouds to rise in the air as the frost hastens its escape with the sun’s urging. Gonna be 50 today, ‘they’ say. Well, yesterday didn’t see us get over 39 on my home’s system or my friend’s system. But today seems like it has more of a chance, if the scene outside of blue sky and sunshine doesn’t change when I look away.

News: TikTok is going dark today under the government’s orders. Three hostages were released in Gaza. Kansas City is advancing to the AFC championship game and a lot of fans seem displeased about it. The Washington Commanders shocked the NFC’s number one side, the Detroit Lions, with an almost flawless game. Another new wildfire was reported in southern California while the Palisades fire still burns, although the latter is 52 percent contained. WaPo is circulating rumors that the new administration wants to replace DeJoy as the nation’s Postmaster General. Just an aside to that, Democrats and many Republicans revile DeJoy for what he’s done to the USPS but he’s kissed the ring and threw lots of cash at Trump, so I’m surprised to hear it being discussed.

One news story that disgusted me is about Jefferson Griffin. The Republican ran for a North Carolina Supreme Court seat in 2024 and lost. Now he’s asking the state to throw out 5500 military absentee ballots. His reasoning is that they don’t provide a photo ID with their vote. Their vote in the mail. The same voting method that this character used in 2019 and 2020, BTW. Oh, and he’s only challenging these absentee ballots in heavily-leaning counties. This feels like it transcends hypocrisy. Feels like it’s absolutely venal in its naked desperation and hunger to win at any cost. If others’ rights get screwed in the process, well, that’s just too bad for them.

Musically, The Neurons have an Al Stewart song playing in the morning mental music stream. “On the Border” was released in 1977 and has a folk-rock flavor, which is flock in my vocabulary. (Folk rock, right? Flock.) There is some jazz flavoring to it as well. I have no specific reason for its inhabitance of the morning mental music stream. I was just tidying up in the kitchen some after feeding the beasts when I realized it was in my head. But these lines may have been the inspiration:

Late last night the rain was knocking on my window
I moved across the darkened room and in the lampglow
I thought I saw down in the street the spirit of the century
Telling us that we’re all standing on the border

h/t to Genius.com

And that is because many of us simply feel like the nation’s spirit underwent a significant change when PINO-elect Trump won in 2024. Particulars include a substantial number of Americans showing vast disinterest or apathy by not voting and enough supporting a convicted felon to give the U.S. a new low as a first: a convict POTUS. As billionaires and the less wealthy line up to get on his good side and laws are proposed or passed to erase decades to centuries of change, it feel likes we’re standing on the border of becoming somthing other than the founders’ original intentions. I’ve said all of this before. Now it feels like I’m just cryin’ in my coffee.

Coffee and I have brokered another treaty for the day and I have commenced sipping out of the mug. Here’s the tune. Hope you enjoy the melody and have a terrific Sunda. Cheers

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Friday’s Theme Music

Mood: Youngishfeelin’

I checked the outside. Sunshine and blue sky. No clouds in any direction. This Friday, 1/20/2024, seemed like a spring day. 37 F around my place, it’s 43 in another part of town, and 51 in the field down by the ScienceWorks. Today’s high will be 49, I’m told. Your experience in this town might be different. I made a mental note to see if we’d received any snow in Ashlandia this winter and compare it to the historic records.

Alexa greeted me with news of four notifications. Rain was expected tonight at 9 PM, a dense fog warning had been issued for Ashlandia, a stagnant air advisory was out for the region, and Felon Trump will not get any punishments for his conviction. Alexa asked me if I wanted to hear more about that last story. “No, I don’t want a reminder of how our justice system and election process failed our democracy,” I replied. “I don’t understand your answer,” Alexa answered. “Many don’t,” I said. “Many don’t.”

Today’s song is “Used to Be Young” by Miley Cyrus from 2023. Pretty good summary of the shifts many of us experience, I heard it on the car radio several days ago. The Neurons keep singing snatches of it since until it ended up dominating my morning mental music stream (Trademark old).

Reflecting on a dream I had, I shouldn’t have been too surprised about the song being in the MMMS. The dream was about being younger, too. Did the music influence the dream, or was it the other way? Or were both responding to some other wishing well inside me. Yeah, chuckle.

Here’s the music. Coffee and I are friendly again. Time to rock through another day. Hope yours is a good one.

Oh, look, fog has arrived and hides the sun. Don’t worry, I think it’s gonna change. Cheers

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Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts

Feeling a hungim, I went out and picked up breakfasts burritos — egg, cheese, and potatoes — from our local Market of Choice. A ‘hungim’ is a ‘hungry whim’ for the uninformed.

I’m just trying to keep the language moving forward, or movfor, if you will. Hey, come on, how do you think they emerged with words like ‘yesterday’ in the past?

Now I’m back to drinking my blafee. Yes, black coffee. Cheers

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Monday’s Wandering Thoughts

Dad’s 92nd birthday is Wednesday. Mom’s birthday is tomorrow. I’ll be calling her tomorrow, so I called Dad today, as I’ll be pretty busy Wed. with planned surgery.

Dad and I had one of the best chats I recall having with him. We chatted about aging, financing, and Mom. Very satisfying.

Dad has always been a level guy, staying mellow, keeping things in the moment. He’s never gotten too worked up over any of life’s tumbles and twists. And he’s been through his share.

He’s in okay health. Had some stents put into his coronary arteries some years ago. Suffers some COPD. Went through some edema issues twice. Now he’s on a low sodium diet. A cane is employed to walk around. He sometimes needs a walker.

But we laughed a lot about these things which happen to us as we get older.

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Friday’s Wandering Thoughts

Back in the day…

Such a broad, specific expression. Back in the day for me is specific to a time period for me and others of my age, but when you’re a different age, well, back in the day is a different time.

Quick sidebar: while the youngest generations take up the expression, or will back in the day fade away?

Well, back in the day, it was easy to keep up on the news. Read a newspaper, turn on one of the big three network’s nightly news offering, and watch the local news.

Complications arose with the information age explosion and the digital age tsunami. Suddenly, I’m clicking on a story and there’s ten thousand variations on it. What was said, who said it, and what does it mean? You click and read and click, chasing the crumbs to learn what’s right.

Tough work these days, keeping up on truth and facts, and dodging lies and misinformation.

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The Car & Suit Dream

Dreamed I came into a windfall of cash. The amount was never specified but I bought a new Porsche 718 spyder and paid cash.

Next, I purchased a Dior pewter gray suit. Though off the rack, it fit me perfectly. Oh, and this was a young thirtyish me. Along with the shirt, I bought new shirt, tie, and shoes. Wearing these things, I drove the car around. In one odd sign, however, I seemed larger than the car.

I stopped and exited the car to chat with some people I loosely knew. They admired my suit, guessing, “New?” Yes, I proudly answered. I realized I had the price tags attached. I fretted about my wife finding out how much I paid for the suit. I believed it was thousands but I couldn’t read the price tags. Each time I tried, something imposed to prevent that from happening.

I decided that I wanted to remove the price tags. I needed a knife or small snips. Looked for both, roaming around, but found neither. Did receive many more compliments about how the suit looked on me.

Getting back into the car to leave, I found that while the cockpit was as expected, the rest of the car was expanded to be an open-air bus filled with people. Didn’t surprise me. We were leaving a museum. I saw a woman who I wanted to intercept walking toward another vehicle exit. I decided I would circle around and chat with her.

“I just have one stop to make,” I told the rest. “Then we’ll be on our way and I’ll drop you off at your destination.”

I was driving down the road while making that announcement. Lovely day of blue sky, sunshine, and clouds. The roads were spacious and well-maintained, concrete with curbs, abutting parks, plazas, and museums. I circled right and went under an overpass and came back around to where I was.

That surprised me. I’d expected there to be a turn off that would take me over to the other road. I tried again — three more times in all — and met the same result. With the fourth time, my passengers said, “Oh, no, not again.

Asking for their indulgence, I gave it one more effort, but this time shifting over by one road which I’d noticed. That worked, taking me to where I wanted to be.

Dream end.

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