Tag: Dad

Wenzdaz Theme Music

Another Wenzda has shifted in. It’s October 22, 2025. We’re getting into October’s last legs. Trees are still lively with colors. That huge old oak across the street hasn’t begun shedding yet. When it does, a blizzard of gold will fall to the winds. Meanwhile, seeing its high golden leaves up against the sky’s purest blue refreshes me, and adds depths to my contemplation of what in the world is going on. Now 46 F with the heater on in the house, sunshine, a front, and clear sky will help Ashlandia breach the low seventies today.

Mosquitoes found in Iceland for the first time, says a headline. Well, surely that’s a one off. They just had some record heat. The story says that Iceland and Antarctica were the only places without skeeters. Now there’s just the southern ice cap. I hear it’s been warming and shrinking, so set your calendars. I evaded stories about bomb threats, cars ramming buildings, and other signs of increasing unrest and violence in the U.S. With familiar weariness, I read about Trump rambling through another nonsensical conversation and temper my rage that this is accepted as okay by GOP senators and his donors and minions. I slipped past war updates from Ukraine and edged around the shooting involving a marshal, ICE, and another person, who was supposed to be ‘an immigrant’. Some flirting was done with the tale of the AWS outage that crashed parts of the web over the last several days. My heart and mind were wary of delving into those stories without coffee’s strength first.

The packing for our trip is done. Papi’s minder moves in tomorrow morning. I will miss my furry orange friend. A taxi will whisk us away like refugees in the night. Fingers crossed, etc., by this time tomorrow we’ll be aloft in one of aerospace machines, heading east for Mom’s birthday, seeing family, etc. Sis sent photos of Mom’s new lair. She included the little electric fake fireplace Mom had in her living room. Mom and Frank bought it an estate sale and were so happy with it. I know Mom will find comfort in having it on, warming the air and her heart.

Dad’s birthday is next week. Day after Mom’s, the day before Mom’s late brother, a few weeks after my late mother-in-law, and a week after my brother-in-law. Anyway, I wrote Dad a letter this morning, thanking him for what he’s done for me, telling him how much I enjoy our telephone conversations and laughing with him, etc. Afterward, The Neurons felt it appropriate to insert Dido’s song, “Thank You”, in the morning mental music stream. So here we go.

May peace and grace find their way back to us. Many wonder if they still exist. I believe it’s still being cultivated in many places where protections are in place to keep it from being smashed. Till then, roll on. Cheers

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Sundaz Wandering Thoughts

Frank passed away, so I’m remembering Frank. 95, he and Mom were together for his life’s last twenty years plus. Which, as I think about it, causes me to realize that Frank was about five years older than my present age when he and Mom met. My youngest sister, Lisa, was the agent of their coming together. Mom was dating another, Ed, at the time. Lisa worked in a bank. She regularly saw Frank and decided that Frank and Mom were a good match. When she suggested it to Frank, he asked, “Is she pretty?” Lisa beamed and gave a knowing nod. “Yep.”

Lisa was right. Mom and Frank hit it right off. All was a lot of fun for years. Biking, walking, movies, tennis, dancing, estate sales. They had a good life before Mom’s accidents, health, and drugs crippled things. I’m happy they had those years together.

When my wife and I talked about it, she marveled about old people dating. “People our age,” she exclaimed as we both laughed. She went on, “I’m like that song. I’m not ready to get naked in front of another.”

We spoke more seriously about friends and relatives our age and older dating. Ron, 78, lost his wife ten years ago to breast cancer. He’s had a regular girlfriend for three years. Now he’s dating another woman and they’re having fun. Sis-in-law, coming up on 70, has a regular boyfriend, her third since her husband died of brain cancer about five years ago (I think). Then there’s Barb, 81 this Feb, dating a guy who is her age. Both had preferred younger people and would hook up with someone for a few months and then move on. Now, months into this relationship, Barb professes that she’s in love. Sweet and beautiful.

So, there’s hope, if you put yourself out there. As Frank and Mom did. Hell, as Dad did. Now at 92, he’s on his third marriage. It’s lasted over thirty years, the longest marriage of his life, and he seems happy and contented.

Hope and love aren’t limited by age.

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Satyrdaz Theme Music

Dreary sunshine and bleached skies say hello when Papi and I step out to inspect the morning. It’s 49 F in Ashlandia today, Satyrda, October 4, 2025. A high of 60 is anticipated. The furnace was turned on to dispel some of the morning chill, as it was just 67 F in the house. Despite these clouds, rain is not a worry for us. Personal note, today is the 51st anniversary of when I swore my oath to defend the Constitution in the U.S. military.

All my appointments went very well Thursday. Texted Mom to tell her we’re coming to Pittsburgh for her 90th birthday. She says she’s looking forward to seeing us but is busy painting the kitchen cupboards right now. Dad remains in rehab in Texas. Spoke to him, and he was in terrific spirits and sounded strong, healthy, and alert.

Trump’s Venezuelan body count is 21 after U.S. missiles destroyed another boat. That’s number four. What’s the body count over/under for a Nobel Peace Prize?

The Weariness Meter is in the upper ranges today. I feel I’m flagging over the news. Think I’ll take a time out from keeping up to date. That general malaise striking me had me thinking about past and present. 1974, when I graduated from high school and joined the military, still appears as a decent year when I look back through time’s long lens. This year, 2025, feels like a terrible year on multiple levels. Reflections have me treading on a path of thought about how much we’ve regressed in my lifetime. Most of that came in the last 20 years. Hell, most of it came with Trump’s takeover of the White House in 2025. Much of it is due to Russ Vought and Project 2025 and their effective use of Trump as a dupe.

The Neurons decide to cheer me up with “Here’s Where the Story Ends” by Sundays in my morning mental music stream. Sample lyrics for you from Songfacts.com.

Crazy I know, places I go
Make me feel so tired
I can see how people look down
I’m on the outside

Oh, Here’s where the story ends
Ooh, Here’s where the story ends

It’s that little souvenir of a terrible year
Which makes my eyes feel sore
And who ever would’ve thought the books that you brought
Were all I loved you for
Oh the devil in me said go down to the shed
I know where I belong
But the only thing I ever really wanted to say
Was wrong, was wrong, was wrong

It’s that little souvenir of a colorful year
Which makes me smile inside
So I cynically, cynically say the world is that way
Surprise, surprise, surprise, surprise, surprise

Here’s where the post ends. Hope grace and peace pop up for us someday soon. Got my coffee. Time to motor. Cheers

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Mundaz Theme Music

Munda, September 15, 2025, has settled in against a backdrop of clear blue skies and warm sunshine. Summer is hanging on, taking us from overnight lows in the lower fifties to an 85 F high. All things end, though, and summer’s last days are coming on in the northern hemes.

I spoke to Dad this morning. He’s still in the rehab center. His voice was not strong. This latest ordeal really seemed to suck his life energy out of him. But…it might also be that he had just gotten out of a very hot shower and said he was sleepy. On a more positive side, my wife seems over her illness. She ate yesterday, picked up a book and read, and went to exercise class this morning.

Had a storm of dreams again last night. Went from being in the military trying to get a haircut to being in charge of a process with IBM and ISS, the Internet security companies where I worked, to recover and shut down security equipment. The latter was a messy, disorganized affair, and no one had done anything, so I was taking it on. Out of the blue toward the end, three young women, teenagers, really, appeared to help me with the computers. They weren’t much assistance at first, as they lacked knowledge but they were eager and energetic. With their help, I began wrangling the mess into something bearing some coherency.

Back to some rock ‘n roll for Munda. I was singing “Honky Tonk Kitty” to Papi this morning after he chirped appreciation for the food being delivered to him. Naturally, my song inspired The Neurons to fire up memory of the Rolling Stones tune in the morning mental music stream, as it’s quite similar to what I was singing.

Today’s project is about getting tree branches cut back from the neighboring apartment complex. I’d do it but realized that some of the branches are higher than my reach, even if I’m standing on a pile of books on top of a ladder where they tell you not to stand because it’s unsafe. I’ve reached out to the apartment complex to start a dialogue about my needs and intentions. They were out of office, so I left a message. Next steps would be to talk with them and then get estimates and get ‘er done.

Hope peace and grace find and lift you up today and every day. Coffee is doing some heavy lifting in me today. Time to bounce on into the day. Cheers

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Satyrdaz Theme Music

Summer is crawling through on a final look see. We’ll strike the low 80s, lifting us from the sunny and mild 66 F where we now reside. Leaves are still green against the summer blue sky but some of those leaves have lost their luster. It’s Satyrda, children, September 13, 2025.

No home-front changes for me with a friend in hospice, Mom on mute, Dad in rehab, as is another friend, and my wife under the weather.

I listened to Trump’s speech from the NATO summit’s closing day. He claimed he ‘rebuilt the entire military’ during his first term. WTF does that even mean? If you take the literal words and their literal definitions, then the United States has a military which is just a few years old. Leaves me confused. Where did he get all those old B-52s, aircraft carriers, F14s, F15s, and F15s if he rebuilt it? How did he get new C5s and why are old ones still in use if he rebuilt the military? He’s such a bombastic blowhard. Some will give Trump leniency and say, “Oh, he’s being metaphorical.” I call BS. It’s like me claiming, you know I rebuilt the entire house last week. Bottom line: no, he didn’t, and making such claims makes him look like a boastful fool. This is in line with other claims, like he’s going to lower drug prices by thousands of percent. Or that in many places, gas prices are below $1.99 a gallon. He just lies and boasts to make himself look good. While some worship his words as the gospel, a bigly number of people know the truth about him, the truth he reinforces whenever he speaks.

Of course, Trump was eager to blame Kirk’s murder on someone from the left. But guess what? It was another right-winger killing another of their own. No apologies from Trump and others for making wild and biased accusations, of course. Trump lacks the moral fortitude and honesty for anything like that.

BTW, how is that whole thing about Epstein going for Trump?

Papi inspires todays music selection. I opened the backdoor for fresh air and sunshine and he whipped around and sprinted over to me with a quick chirp of greeting. Sitting, he put his face to the sun and closed his eyes. As I offered some love touches, I asked, “Where you been, buddy? What are you out here looking for?” As Papi and I entered the house together, The Neurons summoned U2 with “Where the Streets Have No Name”.

Coffee has begun its rounds in my corporeal vessel. Let’s hope grace and peace find and keep us today and always. Cheers

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Fridaz Theme Music

Blue sky creamed with white haze announces the day is underway. Summer sunshine comes through to carry us to 81 F today as summer tries a final incursion into autumn. Currently 68 F, no rain is forecasted for today. Tis Frida, September 12, 2025.

I’m pingponging though moods and emotions today. Notso good news on Dad’s front as his mind slips the clutch. He refused to eat and cooperate for a while yesterday. Called his wife for her to come get him out of jail. Shades of Mom: we experienced similar to that a few years ago, a testing time. His stepdaughter came through to settle him and coax cooperation. Mom seems to be doing better, from a distance. My wife, however, is under the weather today. Over at Steve’s place, he’s bounced back. While still in hospice, he’s eating well. Andy at the rehab place is doing better, too, eating well but complaining about the food.

News off the political and world fronts do little to lift my spirits. This is sort of normal. I’ve learned that I go into black days. Typically just a one to three day stay. Meanwhile, I choke down news about the economy, shootings, weather, the wars, and Trump’s inanity. Just reading more details about the infamous Hyundai battery plant raid. Stories posted show that Trump’s ICE people knew that people were legally there but still had them deported. This will be so good *snark* for international relations. Sure, who wouldn’t want to come to a place where your legal status is flushed away and you’re subjected to being treated as a lawbreaker and prisoner? Yep, good work to that asinine TACO team.

Did have a little laugh, thanks to Andy Borowitz:

Kash Patel Replaced by Startled Deer

Today’s music choice came on Der Neurons’ orders. Soundgarden, led by the late Chris Cornell, is singing “Fell On Black Days” in the morning mental music stream.

Whomsoever I’ve cured, I’ve sickened now
Well, whomsoever I’ve cradled, I’ve put you down
Search light soul they say but I can’t see it in the night
I’m only faking when I get it right, when I get it right

‘Cause I fell on black days
I fell on black days

h/t to Songlyrics.com

Coffee has swooped in to give me a lift. May grace and peace find and lift us all. Onward. Cheers

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Wenzdaz Theme Music

Sunny has unfolded from the origami clouds. Rain pestered us with brief spitting contests. Overnight had autumn drag more of its influence in. Chillier air presides. Rain is expected. Currently 66 F with sunshine and clouds mixing it up, 72 F is our projected high.

I spoke to Dad this morning. Loopy with drugs, he wasn’t himself. I told him that I’d passed on his situation to Mom. Mom’s response was, “Tell that rat bastard that I hope he gets well soon.” Dad laughed over that. ‘Rat bastard’ is Mom’s affectionate handle for Dad.

Bad news came in about Andy, another hospitalized friend. If you thinkback, Andy was taken to the hospital a week ago after beer with friends. After falling in the street earlier that day, he was complaining of pain. Turned out he’d fractured his hip. So, he went through surgery, was removed to a rehab place, etc. All was going well. Last night, he got out bed and fell again, this time breaking his hip. It was back to surgery and the hospital. We understand that he’s under sedation at this point.

I met with my surgeon yesterday. While he’s a ‘general surgeon’, he’s done thousands of gallbladder surgeries and specializes in them. We went over expectations and my situation and set a date for November 5. It would have been sooner but I postponed it to travel east for Mom’s 90th BD do. I liked the surgeon. He was patient and affable and spent a lot of time talking with me, relating his own gallbladder removal a few years ago. He’s also a big fella. Two or three of me could’ve stood in his pants. I think I came up to his belly button. With all that, he also has an identical twin brother, who’s a surgeon in Montana. His younger brother is a surgeon who just moved into the area to practice. I wondered if he came from a family of surgeons. No, Dad was a dentist and Mom was an elementary school teacher.

I didn’t spend any time with the news this morning, busying myself with other matters. Today’s music is by Ed Sheeran. “Thinking Out Loud” occupied the morning mental music stream as I reflected on aging. I wasn’t thinking just of my aging, but of everyone. It’s a delicate and reflective song, fit for a delicate, reflective morning that shimmers with fading summer.

Coffee has anointed my tongue again. Hope grace and peace flowers for us today and every day. Cheers

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Twozdaz Theme Music

Howdy, sports fans. It’s Twozda, September 9, 2025. 62 degrees F holds forth in Ashlandia. Marbled clouds headline the moment. Never fear: it’s going to move to 69 degrees F by the day’s end, although we may need to navigate more thunder and rain while we get there. Feels like autumn has got its dandruff up and is out to end summer’s hold on Ashland.

Yesterday early afternoon found us with a huge downpour. People rushed into the coffee shop bursting with news about how intense, sudden, and cold the rain was. Brief was added to its description as the rain ceased after ten relentless minutes.

Then, 2:30 AM. A sound is covering the house. My sleepy mind thought it was a giant fan. Asking, what fan is that, I roamed through the house and realized, that giant fan sound was rain hissing down with Biblical efforts. I returned to bed and sleep only to awaken a while later to my wife in the kitchen getting water.

A sharp, high squeal noise had awakened me. I asked my wife if she’d heard it. “It’s raining,” she said.

I listened. “It stopped.”

“No, it’s still going.”

Papi and I went out back to prove the rain was stopped. It was. Cool breezes swept by with friendly helloes. Moonlight bright enough to walk on broke out. Rain clouds were splitting up and racing away in different directions, leaving a starry dark gray feast for my eyes. “This is nice,” I said. Papi didn’t disagree.

After I was back in bed, a sound like a brassy chord being strong on an electric guitar awakened me. “What the hell was that?” The Neurons asked the dark room. Nobody was giving any answers about noises.

Dad remains hospitalized. Not much can be done about a fractured pelvis. He’s due to be moved to a rehab center today. Andy is also being moved to a rehab center to help him recover from his hip fracture. Sis is mum about her medical procedure and its results.

Gritting my teeth and swallowing my GRRRRR, I peruse the news. Trump is suing the WSJ and anyone attached to the story about his ‘alleged’ birthday card/notes to Epstein. I’m sure Trump is betting that the story will be withdrawn and apologies issues. Meanwhile, he donated the Bible his mother presented to him in his boyhood to a Bible Museum. The net responded with laughter and mocking about the Bible. Most doubt that Trump opened his Bible, read it, and went to church, except for publicity when it suited his needs.

More attacks have been carried out in several wars. None of the war reporting arrives with a sense that the fighting is going to end soon. The major aggressors, Russia and Israel, are well past reasonable lines about their intentions. All can see that Russia will not stop until it has Ukraine. Israel won’t stop until Hamas are all dead. Neither nation displays concern or empathy for the innocents they’re killing.

Economic news will take over today’s media top spots. 911,000 fewer jobs were created between April 2024 and March 2025, BLS says. US job growth through March was significantly weaker than previously thought. Economists and analysts are telling us that it means the jobs markets was even worse than realized. A large downward revision was expected, with many citing sampling errors resulting from declining survey responses, weaker-than-inferred job creation at new firms, and adjustments related to asylum-seekers and other undocumented workers. The pandemic’s impact on the global labor market and residual adjustments were also blamed. Trump’s WH thinks that it proves Trump was right, the Biden economy was a disaster, and the BLS reporting is broken. That’s certainly puzzling, isn’t it: the Trump Regime is depending on a system they claim is broken to prove they’re right. Classic MAGAt non-thinking.

All this has culminated in The Neurons’ song choice for my morning mental music stream. It stormed in Ashland, with more storms coming. Trump is riding a storm of criticism about Jeffrey Epstein. We the People are riding through the storm of data about what’s going on with the economy. Hence, The Neurons summoned The Doors and “Riders on the Storm”.

Coffee has dropped in for an extended visit. May grace and peace visit and stay with us all for a while. Here we go again. Cheers

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Mundaz Theme Music

Autumn is toddling in, dragging cooler air over us. Wildfire smoke adds a gauzy layer to tamp down temperatures. 68 F, clouds scuff up the blue sky. Thunderstorms are expected to drop in, and the temperature will top at a cordial 75 F. This is Munda, September 8, 2025. Our air quality is moderate, hovering in the 90s.

Dad is in the hospital in Texas, going through tests and assessments to see what can be done about his condition. Mom is okay at home, it seems, coming across as feisty in her texts. Steve is in hospice with multiple myeloma. Andy is recovering in the hospital from his surgery and getting ready to begin physical therapy. Sis is going into the hospital for a ‘medical procedure’ today. Telling me via text yesterday that she wasn’t well, she remained vague about what her medical procedure was for. I see my doctor tomorrow. Sounds like friends and family medical week.

The latest unexpected shock to the system politically has the Roberts Court again supporting Trump. Yes, it’s a real *gasp* moment. The ruling allows ICE to randomly patrol and pick up people based on whatever the fuck motivates those actions that day. It’s the Trump MAGALand way. MAGAts are applauding it. One said in comments on an article, “As an American I think that ICE and any law enforcement officer enforcing our immigration laws and detaining and having any and all illegal people regardless of race or nationality, is exactly what they should be doing, and we support them 100%.” Except, yawn, ‘Old Patriot Guy’, they’re not enforcing laws; they’re enforcing Executive Orders. Due process isn’t being followed. But that’s okay with OPG and others like him. Ends justify the means. To them, everyone ICE picks up is an illegal and needs to be kicked out. Like how he shifted from ‘I, American’ to ‘we’ by his comment’s end. Was that a slip of the royal we subconsciously thrust in there? Of course, MAGAts consistently demonstrate narrow focus and shallow thinking. OPG might be applauding and waving his flag over Trump’s ICE disappearing people without due process, but you can bet that his comments will change if he and his get struck. He’ll probably then whine, “What happened to innocent until proven guilty?” We know that in Trump’s U.S., that only applies to PINO TACO himself.

Meanwhile, Trump has again opted for fiction to support his decisions and policies. Has to be so for PINO Trump, if you think about it; truth, logic, reality, honor, and history all stand firmly against him. Since Trump brought it up, how much will longer we need to endure Trumpocalypse? Nine months into 2025, it’s already too much.

Trump Angrily Tells Reporter His Own Truth Post Is ‘Fake News’

Today’s music is for Rick Davies, Supertramp member and songwriter. He passed at 81 after losing to cancer. The Neurons and I agreed to play 1974’s “Bloody Well Right” in the morning mental music stream in honor and memory of Rick Davies.

Hope peace and grace sniff you out and give you help as needed today. Coffee has made a splash in my body. And it’s off to the races we go. Cheers

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Sundaz Theme Music

Sunda, September 7, 2025, arrives, cool, dry, smoky. I’m not sure where the smoke comes from. 65 F, today’s high will pluck 80 F. Rain ended up dominating our road trip to Crater Lake National Park yesterday. The weather added a dramatic element.

Our guests left this morning. They’re on the road to Carmel, CA. We had a good time with them. They seemed to enjoy our company and area. Hope they have safe travels.

Meanwhile, there’s been an ongoing saga. Don’t know what I revealed here. Last Wenzda was our recurring beer meeting. One member, Andy, is a retired doctor. Not sure of his age, but I think he’s a little older than me. Part of his issues required a shunt in his brain to reduce pressure. That helped and he seemed to be recovering. Suddenly, there’s a step backward. He later related that he’d fallen in the street in front of his house earlier that day. A passing driver saw, stopped, helped. But Andy was in pain, putting at 9 of 10. Said, “I think I may have fractured my hip.”

Well, one member volunteered to transport him to the hospital, where, yes, this weekend, Andy had surgery for his fractured hip and is in the hospital. Various friends have been visiting him, and I’ll do that today.

On the family front, the siblings went together to buy Mom a new smart TV for her new bedroom. It seems that her other television has been stuck on ‘the western channel’, according to sis. Mom and her BF, Frank, have bought twin beds for the new bedroom so they can both sleep in there. That way, there’s no calling around at night for him to get there to help her. Mom celebrates her 90 BD next month.

In the Texas side of the family, I returned from being out where none of us had cellphone service to find a message from Dad’s wife. Dad had fallen in the kitchen, fracturing his pelvis and hip socket. He was hospitalized with pneumonia. Now, the text says, “He’s out of hospice.” It seems like it’s a dire situation for them. I called, got VM, left a message. A new text says that a nurse got him out of bed and standing, with help from pain pills. His wife asked me to give him a call after the Steelers game is over, which I’ll do. Dad is due to celebrate his 93rd BD next month.

Politically, I read last night that Speaker Johnson should be writing novels. That’s what I took, as Johnson demonstrated some amazing creativity. Effectually reaching up his ass, Johnson pulled out more cover for Trump with a claim Trump was an FBI informant about Epstein’s activities. This is so wildly out of nowhere that it’s been immediately and relentlessly mocked. Apparently, too, that paragon of justice and concern — that would be the Offal Office mango leech — was so concerned about Epstein’s activities that he voluntarily became an informant. Who out there is going to believe this? Does Speaker Johnson even believe what he’s saying? If he does, what sort of meds is Johnson on?

Johnson’s additions just layer the Epstein files with a byzantine plot. Trump claims the Epstein file is a hoax. Before that, TACO — and we need to label him that, TACO, Trump Always Chickening Out — promised to release the Epstein files during his presidential election campaign, but has since chickened out from doing that. Trump frequently blows his top when others ask questions or make references to the files. Trump has been documented as an Epstein friend for a long time before the shit hit the fan. Now he was really an FBI informant. Man, the crazy gets too cra-cra.

All these matters have brought together an Eagles song. The Neurons heard me mutter to myself, sometimes with a sigh, sometimes with a GRRRR, time will tell. The Neurons immediately jumped up with “The Long Run” by the Eagles. Yeah, I’m singing “Who is going to make it, we’ll find out,” but I’m also singing, “What’s really going on, we’ll find out in the long run.”

There are things to do and write. Coffee is flowing through the body, making connections as needed. Hope peace and grace connects with you today. Here we go. Cheers

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