Tag: clothing

Mundaz Theme Music

Greeting fellow humans. Welcome to the last month of the tumultuous year of 2025.

It’s Munda, December 1, 2025. 33 F at my house, though out there in Ashlandia’s sunnier spots, it’s reported to be up to 40 F. Clear skies blue with promise and bright sunshine arch over us. They’re suggesting that we’ll see the mid to upper 50s today. Yesterday never felt warm and hissed with a chill that whispered, “Winter is standing right behind you.”

Today’s music comes from dressing again. Yesterday and the previous day, I wore jeans. I told my wife I was going old school. That came from the realization that I used to wear jeans regularly and I don’t often wear them these days. Anyway from that, I laughingly sang to Papi, “Forever in Blue Jeans.” The Neurons jumped right on that and fed the 1979 Neil Diamond song to the morning mental music stream.

Trump released another trant. A trant is a text-based social media scree filled with typos, capital letters, incorrect information, and exclamation points. It’s a neologism formed from combining Trump with rant. Trant.

Dizzy Donny’s latest trant was about his misconception of Senator Kelly’s suggestion to military members to disobey unlawful or illegal orders. After releasing and deleting an error-filled version, Donny T came up with one that satisfied his low standards.

Trant #1

Trant #2

Dozy Donny finishes with a capitol letter scream, “DO WHAT HAS TO BE DONE!!!” Whatever happened to “Thank you for your attention to this matter!”?

I wish the nation would do what needs to be done and remove him from office and get him therapy. But MAGAts and the GOP like this sort of *cough* leadership.

But Senator Kelly is not suggesting that military members be insubordinate or disloyal. He and the other Democrats are reminding them, as others often do, that their duty is to the U.S. Constitution and to perform legal orders.

Coffee is making its way down the esophagus to the proper places. Hope peace and grace show today but not holding my breath. Here we go, into the years final month. Cheers

3

The Travel Dream

I was traveling on a large boat. It almost seemed like an enormous barge. Rusted and worn with use, it was safe but old, tired, and without comfort. It was also packed with fellow travelers. Most were women. I knew some, and my wife was among them.

The barge sailed on a rippling brown river so wide that the banks couldn’t be seen. We’d been traveling for days and getting close to the end. While many rode along as gossiping, resting passengers, I had a role of keeping things as organized as possible. This had me racing around. I was often on metal walks above the rest, and would look down and see what was going on as I rushed from task to task.

At one point, I was forced to go down among them. I’d stripped off clothing because I was hot. Wearing only my boxer shorts, I couldn’t find my clothes.

I didn’t care. It was important that I go down and do what was needed. My arrival in my underwear drew attention and comments. I shrugged them off. I overhead my wife undertaking explanations about ‘who I was’, but that didn’t matter to me.

Abruptly, we arrived and disembarked in a chaotic surge. I found myself driving a powerful white sedan filled with people. Racing away from the docks on surface streets, I saw a speed limit sign, 80 MPH. Stepping on the accelerator, I merged with traffic onto a huge white cement Interstate. We were going down a short hill through a curve. Ahead was an enormous hill and multiple exits listed. I called out to my wife, who was in the back seat, for instructions about where to go, demanding, “Which exit do I need to take?”

She replied, “I don’t know, I haven’t been paying attention.”

That infuriated me. I wanted to verbally berate her but then thought, why wasn’t I paying attention?

Dream end.

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Thirstdaz Wandering Thoughts

I was in the kitchen, looking for a dropped blueberry. “What are you doing?” my wife asked as she came around the corner.

“I lost a blueberry. Do you see a blueberry on the floor?”

“No.” She and I squinted at the hardwood floor together. “You sure you lost i?”

“Pretty sure.” I missed Quinn. Anything hit the floor and black paws was after it fast. Almost everything scared him but he was always willing to approach and sniff before giving things a bat. His ability to spot these things was useful. Papi, on the other hand, has no interest in anything falling on the ground. I once dropped some treats on the floor to see what he would do. He sat and stared at the treat before turning a puzzled expression onto me.

Without Quinn, I could not find the blueberry. Nor could my wife. While I had her, I asked, “Should I change?” We were going to dinner. I was rocking light grey slacks and a white shirt.

Her eyes went nuclear. “Absolutely. Go put on your nice blue shirt.”

She walked off.

I looked down. Something was on the floor. I picked it up. Piece of granola. I remembered dropping it two days ago. I couldn’t find it.

Probably find the blueberry in two more days. I certainly can’t depend on Papi.

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Wenzdaz Wandering Thoughts

Let me tell you about the pants.

First, I’ll tell you about my typical summer wardrobe.

But first, a side path.

The side path is that I suffer from edema. Maybe it’s the lymphatic flavor. Medicos are out about the source and cause. Addressing it means I wear knee-high support hose. They work, help, however you want to put it. However, I’m a vain guy and don’t want to be seen wearing them outdoors.

My standard summer clothing choice since I was a small child are short pants, or shorts. I’m not going out in them while wearing my support house. I’ve seen folks out there in that combo. I admire their courage. Did I mention that I’m vain?

All this means I had a new challenge: what to wear when the sunshine and air conspire to push temperatures into the 80s, 90s, and 100s, as happens here in Ashlandia in the months between May and October. Jeans do not work for me. They feel hot, sweaty, and constricting.

My wife said, “You should wear joggers.”

Suspicions roused themselves. What was that? Joggers? I know what they are. I’ve seen young people in them. And women wear them. I’m not a young person or a woman. However…

I began sniffing around joggers. Looking for garments which will meet my needs. There are men’s joggers out there, but they often lack pockets. I like having pockets, especially those of the pouch type on my front thigh, where I can safely and comfortably deposit my wallet.

My search culminated at Costco. There, as if in answer to my hopes, were Wrangler Men’s Tech Pants. Made of synthetics, they met all my other needs, and were priced to move at $22. I put them into the cart and tried them on at home.

They fit. They’re comfortable. And they look good without attracting attention. I am not fond of attraction.

After wearing the black ones for a few days, I purchased them in grey and khaki. My vanity is appeased, and my wife is pleased with my appearance. All in all, a small win-win for me.

2

The Water Dream

So there I was…

I’d turned on the water, apparently to water the lawn, a problematic decision because snow and ice loaded the land. I realized all that when I went back and discovered that everything was flooded by a couple inches because I’d left the water on. People were looking out their windows like genuine looky lous. I could hear them commenting, telling each other, “Oh, poor Michael. Look at him. What’s wrong with him?”

The house where I turned on the water belong to Mom. So I figured I needed to turn off that water and reimburse her for what was sure to be an expensive water bill. I had a small paper bag with some money in it, but first things first: I was naked. I needed to dress. I had clothes. Most of it was very fancy. So I dressed out there in the flooded yard in front of the watching neighbors, first with undies, then with a pressed pink dress shirt, finally black dress pants.

Before I could get to my shoes, I saw Mom and accosted her. Her children, my sisters, were with her, as young children. I explained about turning the water on and leaving it on, and that I owed her, so I wanted to give her some money. Reaching into the bag, I pulled out a bundle of money, estimating it as $40,000, and gave it to Mom. She protested, “That’s too much,” but I insisted she take it.

She left and put on my shoes. As I finished that, ‘Dad’ approached. This father was a squat, chunky guy, no at all like my real father. Dressed in a black suit with a white shirt and short black tie, he wore a black bowler hat. I knew he was a drunk and was dismissive and scornful of him. He knew this but still approached, asking, “Can you spare ten dollars for me?” I knew he’d use it for booze but I said, “Yes, of course,” and ended up giving him $40. He profusely thanked me. I replied, “I can spare it.”

As Dad thanked me again and again and walked away, I opened my bag to get a sandwich and eat. As I pulled the sandwich out, I realized the bag was larger than first thought, and full of newly bundled money. As I gawked at the bundles of cash, I thought, there must be four million dollars in there.

Dream end.

0

Wenzda’s Wandering Thoughts

I had a haircut earlier this month. Really? Which one? *tish*

My wife said, “You look nice. Your hair looks really good.”

“Thanks,” I answered. I was leaving for the coffee shop. “I have a campaign to look less homeless. My hair is too short.”

“Looks good.”

“Too short. It’s shorter than it was when I was in the military because I have less of it now.”

“It looks good.”

“It’s too short.”

“It looks good.”

“Agree to disagree. See you later.”

“It looks good.”

0

Thirsta’s Theme Music

The n’umbers are adding up. Several fours reside in today’s date: 04/24/2025. It’s Thirstda. The week’s fourth day. Depends on how it’s counted.

More eerie is the temperature. It’s 47. The high today will be 74. The low will be 47. All in Fahrenhei.

Alexa’s recital captivates me with all those fours and sevens. I graduated high school in 1974. Childhood was over. Joined the military. Went on my first flight. Slept with 49 other guys in two open bays for the first time. Had my head shaved to peach fuzz for the first time. Shaved off my mustache for the first time.1974 was a year of many first times.

I listened to a melange of radio rock and pop in 1974. I was driving a 1964 Mercury Comet sedan. Stout as a Sherman tank. Forest green. Automatic. 289 V8. And a cheap AM/FM stereo with after market speakers mounted on the parcel shelf behind the back seat. Awesome sound for untutored ears. Delivered diversions by Al Green, Deep Purple, David Bowie, the Eagles and the Beatles, Fleetwood Mac, Joe Walsh, Elton John, Queen, Harry Chapin, the Doobie Brothers… The list of performers and music goes on. Good time to be young and listening to pop music.

The Neurons disappear into 1974’s dark storage in my brain. Remember those bellbottoms? And that paisley top? Oh yeah, and the worn brown leather spur boots and the white high-top tennies painted dayglo orange on a whim? Heck, yeah. My girlfriend and I often ate at Dairy Queen. It was the only place that was close, and even it was miles away. We married the next year, after she graduated. Still together.

The Neurons come out with Elton John and “Benny and the Jets”. We loved singing that refrain with EJ, “B-b-b-b-b-Benny and the jetssssss…” So here we go, reliving the past all over again.

Sunshine and clouds are waltzing ogether. Alexa said we’ll get rain showers. The clouds look like they’re willing to back up that prediction. Coffee is settling into my 2025 body. The kid from ’74 never saw it comin’. Here we go, rocking on into another year. Cheers

0

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

2

Two Clothing Dreams

Two clothing dreams were experienced. One ended positively.

In the first clothing dream, it’s my classic anxiety dream. I’m back in the military, and oh, no, I’m not in reg. My hair needs a haircut and I don’t have my cap. We’re expected to be ‘under cover’ when we’re in most situations outside so not having your cap is a large, visible no-no.

And my hair! I was a senior non-commissioned officer. I’m expected to set an example, etc. But in my dream, I said, I can fix this.

I knew I had caps. I just needed to find them. And for the hair — show me a barber! That last was fixed almost immediately as I headed toward the Base Exchange complex. There’ll be someone to cut my hair there. As it’s an anxiety dream, you’d think I’d encountered difficulties with that, but nope! They were open, a chair was available, I had money to pay…it all went great.

Next, the hats. I went to my quarters and pawed through my gear. Yes, there was the proper cover for this ensemble selection. In fact, as I thought I knew, I had two.

Both were filthy, though. Well, hell, no problem. Soap, water, scrubbing, and they were clean and serviceable within minutes.

Dream end. Reviewing the dream, I was pleased. Had anxieties, but problems covered. Heh. Sorry ’bout the pun.

As frequently in my dreams, I was again a young person. One of my best friends during that period was my cousin, and he was in that dream. We were the same height but I was broad-shouldered while he was narrow. Within a few years, he would grow taller, becoming eight inches taller than me. As he swerved toward the right wing, our friendship split apart.

My aunt, his mother, was also in the dream. She was telling that we needed to get ready. With some fast dream talking and thinking, I realized some formal event was happening. I needed a suit and didn’t have one. Somehow I got hold of my cousin’s suit. Sky blue, the suit was a standard American classic cut but made of an unusual fabric that reminded me of a nylon scrub pad. I folded the suit up and put it in a machine that looked like a carrying kennel for animals. Withdrawing it after a few seconds, I discovered that the arms had shrunk, becoming narrow and short. The suit would now fit neither of us. It was also soaking wet, which puzzled me. It hadn’t been my intention to ruin the suit. Now feeling terrible about it, I started walking around wandering, where can I get two suits now?

That’s how and where the dream ended.

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Thursday’s Wandering Thoughts

Coffee warms my throat as I watch fat dark gray clouds sailing across the sky. Sunlight clears the clouds, dramatically lighting their heights. Looks like fall, alright.

Many people live by the weather when it comes to the season. I’m one of those. My attire today are jeans. Long pants. Long sleeve shirt.

Wind, chill, and rain, and lack of sunshine pulled the decision to don jeans free of my brain cells. Much as anything, it’s that feel to the air, the color of the sky, and the mood it all presents as winds chase leaves down the street, that the seasonal change is really here.

So, I’m wearing jeans, looking back on the hot, smoky summer, shifting my gaze toward the future, to the coming winter, and what it might bring.

Much like my ancestors probably did. Without the jeans.

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