The House Dream

Been a while since I’ve dreamed about houses. Such dreams are always in conjunction with family.

I was visiting my wife’s family house. It no longer exists, as it was torn down after her mother was moved to assisted living. That was a sad thing in itself, to have a dwelling lived in for almost fifty years broken down and hauled away. She died about seven years ago.

In this dream, I knew it was her parents’ house even though it wasn’t like the real place. My wife and I were both young and visiting. Two women I didn’t know were there but nobody else.

The four of us were bored. I opened a drawer and found a deck of cards. We decided to play ‘King on the corner’. After we drew our cards, the person with the highest card would go first. I announced I had the king of diamonds. Someone else announced they had the king of spades. I then saw that I also had the ace of diamonds. Everyone agreed I should go first.

I took my turn, drawing a card. Play progressed and I realized that I’d screwed up because I hadn’t put down my cards. Someone put a king on the corner. I saw it was a king of diamonds. That couldn’t be because I had that card, which I pointed out. We realized that we had more than one deck. Upset with that, we abandoned the card playing.

Then we were just talking when the phone rang. I thought it could be my father-in-law calling. He’d passed away back in December of 1991.

It was him on the phone. He said, “Tell them I’m on my way home.”

I asked, “When do you think you’ll be here?”

But the line was dead. I told the others what had happened. They responded, “We need to clean up.” They jumped up and left the room to go down the hall.

I followed them. The rest of the house wasn’t anything like her parents’ house and I said so. Then we came to a part of it where there were two businesses on the right-hand side. That blew me away. Businesses in the house? That made no sense.

I gathered the businesses were an ice cream stand and a coffee and sandwich shop. Young women were at serving windows in both. I didn’t know either. My wife spoke to one. She revealed we’d gone to school with them. I didn’t remember her, but she claimed she remembered me.

The others had gone off. I walked around on my own and discovered my mother-in-law’s room. I went in and knew it but also knew it was different. My wife called out, “Mom’s here.” I eagerly went to greet her.

Instead of my MIL, another man entered, arms out with a large smile. “Good to see you again,” he said.

Although I didn’t recognize him, I said, “Good to see you, too.”

We hugged. Then he said, “I notice you looking at my feet.”

I’d not noticed his feet, but he continued, “They’re new, but they screwed them up.”

I looked at his feet. They were sticking straight out to the sides. I also noticed puddles of pee on the floor and realized that he’d peed himself.

He said, “Can you tell me where the bathroom is? I need to take a dump.”

I pointed him in the right direction and rushed off.

I joined up with my wife, her older sister, and my neice. We continued to the house’s front. It was wildly different than before. The front porch, driveway, big oak tree, and flowering rhododendrons were gone. It was now more like a Monet painting. Amazed and staring, I said, “This is completely different. When did this happen?”

Oh, a long time ago, the others replied, dismissing it. They went out of the house to a little shop, flooring me that a little shop was there and that they were aware of it. This place was where the long driveway used to be, and sold purses and jewelry. My wife and the others knew the owner and went in and talked to them and looked around.

I went off to explore the new place. As I did, a long, gleaming gold car with bright chrome wheels arrive. I thought, that can’t be my father-in-law.

It wasn’t. It was some stranger who parked and walked away in a different direction. Beyond the parked car was a raging muddy river. I picked my way across it to see what was on the other side. A scarlet rooster began following me around. As I went to go back, the rooster jumped on my lower leg and hung on.

It was starting to get dark. I kicked the rooster off my leg and heard it land in the water but couldn’t see it because it had become so dark. Now I worried that I wouldn’t be able to cross because of the light. Hearing splashing, I realized the rooster had made it safely back, which relieved me.

The darkness suddenly lifted enough that I could see where I was. I hurried back across the river.

End.

Thirstdaz Theme Music

Looked out the window and what did I see? Weak, uneven sunshine, blue sky patches, thick towels of scattered white clouds. I also saw the far-ish mountains with their thick evergreen coats. Sunshine and shadows spangled them in different verdant hues. Sunshine sneaks through the windows and darts away. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve been able to look across and see the tops of the trees on the top of this low mountain because of the weather, and I missed that scene. This is Thirstda, December 18, 2025.

Two friends lost family members this week. Both lost members were sisters and both passed after prolonged cancer struggles. So, a moment of thought for each of them. The holidays are stressful enough for people without the added weight of a family member passing. Although in one case at least, the family was relieved because they hated how their sister/mother/aunt/grandmother was suffering.

Thinking of sisters inspired The Neurons. I’ve been doing many text exchanges with my second-oldest ‘little sister’. She’s the one who volunteered her home and family to take care of Mom. Taking care of anyone is a challenge but Mom at 90 can be a test for your nerves and patience. The two are again at peace, and I hope that lasts. Of course, Mom is going through a chunk of stuff with her health, age, and the loss of her longtime live-in boyfriend, Frank. Frank was a giving and caring steward for her, and though his feet were small, those are big shoes to fill. Add to that, the natural stresses brought on by winter storms and the holiday season, and it gets to be a very heavy load.

So, the Neurons filled the morning mental music stream with Stevie Ray Vaughn and Double Trouble playing their cover of Hank Ballard’s song, “Look at Little Sister”. I have three younger sisters. I regularly text with them. All are mothers, two are grandmothers, two are tremendously fit, and two are very successful. All are a treasure to me. My fourth sister is the single sibling older than moi. She and I get along well but don’t exchange many texts. Still working, she’s engrossed with her children and grandchildren.

Coffee is treating my cells to some wake up energy. Hope peace and grace come out of their hole and don’t see their shadow.

Thirstdaz Theme Music

Sunshine was beaming in, trying to move the needle on this Thirstdaz. Clouds dropped in, muting the sunshine, dousing us with an instant chill. 39 F around my house, the thermometer hopes to see the low fifties today. It’s December 4, 2025. After a mildly wet few months, we’ve suddenly gone cold and dry. Feels like winter out there on many morns.

A friend’s spouse passed away. Most of is learned of it last night. He’d been on hospice for eighteen months, and she carried so much of the caring and the worrying during that long goodbye. Now that he’s gone, she seems ready to step back into her own life again. I only met him a few times, briefly, but always liked his presence. The old photos of him — long dark hair, guitar in hand somewhere in Texas — suggest a version of him I wish I’d known. Wherever he’s headed now, I hope the road is kind. Moments like this tend to shift a group’s energy; the news seemed to quiet all of us, each in our own way. That’s the thing about a death: it sends you off in unexpected directions. Even had me thinking about a novel titled News of a Death.

In honor of Steve Cropper, I’m going with a song that features him. He was one of those musicians and songwriters who helped build my appreciation of popular music and where it can take us by his many contributions. Here’s the Blues Brothers on SNL playing “Soul Man”. And there is grinning Steve Cropper, having fun, playing the guitar, part of the scene.

Occurred to me after posting something about Trump and the records he’s setting, I overlooked his new record of giving pardons. No firm proof has been established but there are allegations and accusations that Delusive Donny is selling pardons. He certainly favors the wealthy, no matter the crime that won them conviction. Nothing like the chief enforcer of the nation’s law and order to undermine and break the system again and again and again and again and again…

My wife also shared a piece with me where some on the right are applauding Trump’s naps. They claim they think it’s smart of him. Yes, we laughed our rear ends off at their deep efforts to spin Trump’s shortcomings, the very same shortcomings for which they previously denigrated President Joe Biden.

Coffee has been poured into the system. Ready to make like a flea and jump. Hope peace and grace makes their way into your day. Cheers

Mundaz Wandering Thoughts

Repercussions. Ripples. Collateral effects.

I was thinking about Mom. She wasn’t doing well in June, August, September. Not answering texts and phone calls. Falling a lot. Not mentally sharp.

Frank was alive and caring for her then. But a few weeks before his penultimate accident, he told Mom, “Pretty soon, I’m going to be too weak to take care of you.” Then Frank fell in October and passed away a few weeks later.

Looking back, as Mom recovers now, I can see how his decline affected Mom’s decline. I’d always believed that would happen. Their life together wasn’t sustainable. Both were aging, their health and energy declining. I discussed it with them but they wouldn’t change their ways. Change is hard. Then it’s forced on you by powers beyond your control.

Frank fell. Died. Mom went loopy. Was removed from her home and placed in a new situation. Now she’s doing better.

Lesson learned? No. Just more realization about life and change, and the creatures we are.

Mundaz Theme Music

A thin grey cloud layer is sliding in. Eastern sunshine sings off the dwindling golden leaves hanging on the neighborhood trees. Autumn has a firm grip on Munda, November 3, 2025, in Ashlandia. 50 F, showers are going to visit amid an attempt to reach 62 F.

Sis made stuffed green peppers with the final harvest from her garden. The peppers were smallish, she said. Gave two to Mom with mashed taters. Mom ate one pepper and all of her potatoes, so she was rewarded with a cookie for dessert. Mom has been sharper, and sis, conversing with Mom, reports that Mom barely recalls what happened in the week in which Frank died. Mom acknowledged to several of us that it was a deeper shock than she realized. I think she’s happy to be out of the house where she and Frank spent more than twenty years together between their dating and living arrangements. I know from losses that every look around a corner and usual routine delivers a stab of painful realization about the loss. I’m like Mom so I believe that’s what she was feeling. And that pattern rocks emotions and disrupts focus. Prying her from her home was a good move. I think Mom even is beginning to realize that.

Sis is talking about putting a stair glide in her house for Mom. Sis’s house is a split level. Mom is in the lower level. A stair glide would provide her with more independence. While true, I worry that more independence and movement will also provide Mom with more falling opportunities. Fingers crossed, I’m wrong if the stair glide is installed.

Today’s theme music is “Blue Monday” by New Order. You must address questions about it to The Neurons. I was minding my own business as I went about the biznez of breakfast when The Neurons put it into the morning mental music stream. Here’s the part that was bumping through the MMMS.

How does it feel
To treat me like you do?
When you’ve laid your hands upon me
And told me who you are?

I thought I was mistaken
I thought I heard your words
Tell me, how do I feel?
Tell me now, how do I feel?

Those who came before me
Lived through their vocations
From the past until completion
They’ll turn away no more

h/t to Bing.

Been a full month since the Trump Epstein Shutdown of 2025 began, hasn’t it? Sure, started October 1, 2025, didn’t it? Trump has been too busy golfing and partying to end this shutdown. It’s like he’s channeling the spirit of his old smirking partner, Jeffrey Epstein.

As Donald Trump said about a shutdown before:

I mean, problems start from the top and they have to get solved from the top. And the president’s the leader and he’s got to get everybody in a room and he’s got to lead. And he doesn’t do that. He doesn’t like doing that. That’s not his strength.

Like a stopped clock, Trump is right: the problems of this country start with him. He’s not a leader. It’s not his strength. He can’t even get everybody in a room.

I read about Trump complaining about the NFL’s revised kickoff rules introduced last season.

“I HATE WATCHING THE NFL’S NEW KICK OFF RULE,” Trump wrote.

“IT’S RIDICULOUS — TAKES THE PAGEANTRY AND GLAMOUR AWAY FROM THE GAME, AND DOES NOTHING FOR SAFETY.

“THEY SHOULD CHANGE BACK TO WHAT IT USED TO BE. HOPEFULLY COLLEGE FOOTBALL WILL NEVER MAKE THIS RIDICULOUS CHANGE! IN THE MEANTIME, I’M GETTING READY TO WATCH PRESIDENT DONALD J. TRUMP (ME!) ON 60 MINUTES.”

Well, one, it’s RIDICULOUS HOW HE TYPES IN ALL CAPS. Two, if it’s so offensive, turn it off. As I did you, on 60 Minutes.

Does Trump have a point about the NFL kickoff rules. Well, I bow to his extensive football career.

Donald J. Trump football record by position, including regular and post season, professional, amateur and coaching, by year and results.

(This space intentionally left blank)

It compares favorably with his RIDICULOUS MILITARY SERVICE RECORD, doesn’t it?

Bone spurs – did not serve

Bone spurs – did not serve

Bone spurs – did not serve

Bone spurs – did not serve

Bone spurs – did not serve

Very impressive.

Gotta go on to other things. Watching for peace and grace’s arrival through the front window. Should be here any minute now. I’ll just have some coffee while I wait. Cheers

Who We Are

I awoke with these words in mind, after a dream about robots and yardwork.

There’s a time for everything in this life

A time for living

A time for dying

A time for being

And one for seeing

A time for hearing

A time for bearing

A time for song

A time for bong

And for some, a time for pong

A time to be rich

A time to fade away

A time to laugh, love, live,

A time to run away

A time to come up

And a time to go down

A time for expression

A time to act like a clown

A time for understanding

And a time for listening

And a time for speaking

A time to stand up

And a time to sit down

A time to eat, sleep, and breathe

And a time to stop it all

And sit like dirt in the ground

And fly like dust on the air

And lift yourself out to go somewhere

To live and breathe along the stars

And at last discover

Who we are.

Sundaz Theme Music

November 2, 2025, has taken hold. It firmly established that today’s season is autumn. Golden leaves are becoming golden brown leaf drifts. Naked branches shiver with the wind. 45 F now, worry not because today’s high will zoom to 57 F. Must say, yesterday’s 68 felt like a faux offering.

We lit a candle for Steve at 5 PM yesterday, per his widow’s request. That flame called to mind Frank, but also Chuck. Chuck is Bonnie’s hubby. I met him but twice, I think. Now he’s into hospice. Mom, meanwhile, has bounced back in a strong way. Physical therapy is being scheduled. This is Mom’s way, to bounce back, gain confidence and strength, only to be zapped by some new fall, injury, or organ issue. Been going on for a decade. Each time she bottoms out, it’s a little deeper, and the crawl out is slower and more energy consuming. We talked together about an actor dying when they were 100, June Lockhart. Mom said, “I don’t think I’ll get anywhere near that,” with glum introspection.

Today’s music is another gift of The Neurons. “I Wouldn’t Want to Be Like You” is a 1977 Alan Parsons Project creation. The song popped up in the morning mental music stream as I read about Trumpy’s Halloween gala, the one thrown while so many sink deeper into food insecurity.

Here are the lyrics, offered up by Songmeanings.

If I had a mind to
I wouldn’t want to think like you
And if I had time to
I wouldn’t want to talk to you

I don’t care
What you do
I wouldn’t want to be like you

If I was high class
I wouldn’t need a buck to pass
And if I was a fall guy
I wouldn’t need no alibi

I don’t care
What you do
I wouldn’t want to be like you

Back on the bottom line
Diggin’ for a lousy dime
If I hit a mother lode
I’d cover anything that showed

I don’t care
What you do
I wouldn’t want to be like you

I did a glance of the news. Did Trump recall the time he landed on the moon? He was the first one there, took the first steps for man, “Beautiful steps,” he said, “everyone told me they were the most perfect steps. They couldn’t believe how perfect they are.”

I imagine that somewhere in Trump’s altered reality, he’s a great friend to people of color and a champion to the poor. Bet he remembers marching across the bridge and standing for integration at Selma. Bet he recalls a time when he landed at Normandy and fought the Germans, who, he thought, “Were pretty good guys, really, just working hard, doing their jobs.” Trump believes with a glint of teary eyes, he is as persecuted as Jesus, nailed to a cross. Then he wipes the tears away, visits his new cold, black and white, dull, creativity-empty bathroom, beaming at its wonderful hard angles and linear symmetry, and then goes out and golfs, because he deserves a break. MAGAts everywhere breathlessly applaud, then hurry to buy meat before the prices go up, happy they have an extra freezer to store it because it’s gonna get pricy, they’ve heard the fake news, scowling at the homeless, stepping around the poor, reminding themselves to clean the house, because cleanliness is next to godliness.

Meanwhile, is that Epstein in the clouds, smirking at Trump, remembering how they used to run together, shaking his head with a laugh and whispering, “Oh, that Donnie. He never changes. He just gets more Donnie.” Perhaps someday they’ll meet and Trump will regale Epstein with details about how he starved the poor during the Great Epstein Government Shutdown of 2025. “You should’ve seen them, Jeffie,” Trump says, then launches into a mocking imitation of a person begging for food. “Please, we’re starving.” The two bodies shake with merriment.

Hope grace and peace find us today and every day. Even for just a nano. Coffee has found me and is shaking hands with some Neurons, making plans. I’m sure they’ll let me know what’s going on in a little bit. Cheers

Sundaz Theme Music

Sunshine abounds outside the hotel window. It’s up to 38 F, a rise from the 32 it was when I took an early morning walk. Didn’t feel that cold when I walked. I wasn’t out long. Maybe that’s all part of how the weather ‘feels’.

It’s October 26, 2025, the day of Mom’s birthday do. We visited her yesterday. Early hours found her sleepy, lethargic, sluggish. She wrapped herself in a blanket, put her feet up, and napped in her wheelchair. A few sixties later, she was lively and alert, and gobbled down a couple pieces of pizza.

Which delivers me to this morning’s music. We visited Mom’s house yesterday, our third swing by it to pick up things for Mom. The inside was in disarray, partly from Frank’s fail, but added by Mom’s bug out to sister’s house, and Frank’s family descending to grab and remove anything that might of been of value that belonged to Frank. I tidied a bit but then stepped out. A storm had swept through a few months ago, wrecking the side porch and taking down trees and branches. It looked so starkly different, like a forecast of the emptiness that was coming to the house.

All that in me head, and The Neurons responded, “Time, time, time, look what you’ve done to me.” Just like that, The Bangles’ cover of the Simon & Garfunkel offering, “A Hazy Shade of Winter”, rolled through the mental music stream, staying strong into the morning.

Off to Mom’s old house to pick up more necessities. May peace and grace leaped up and grab you in a bear hug and hold on tight. Cheers

Fridaz Wandering Thoughts

I’ve been sitting here, stewing and worrying about Mom.

I should have known better.

Backstory to this, Mom’s live-in boyfriend died this week after an accident. Mom has been experiencing multiple health issues, going back more than twenty years. Frank’s death and Mom’s health issues were both marked with a fall down the same set of steps. I worried about that happening for years and kept warning them. Now it’s taken Frank.

Frank’s passing is a big shock to Mom’s way of life. Frank still drove his car, although it could be terrifying at times. He was 95 and almost blind in one eye, so there were some “Yikes!” moments. Well, many “Yikes!” moments. But he shopped for Mom, took her to her appointments, picked up her prescriptions, helped her dress and clean, and so many other things that a spouse does for their other. He also contributed to paying her bills. With Frank gone, who was going to do these things for Mom?

Little sis, the powerhouse of the family, sent me a text today that she’s been busy getting ready for Mom to move.

Turns out, even before Frank passed away, sis suggested to Mom that Mom live with sis in her house. Sis has a full house already. Her youngest daughter and boyfriend live with her. So does her hubby. But sis has a finished half basement which they’d set up as an exercise space and lounge. It has its own bathroom. Now sis is cleaning it up and setting it up as Mom’s new permanent residence. The floor is level so she can wheel around with no problem. There’s a refrigerator down there. The aforementioned bathroom. It’s connected to the garage so she can roll right out to the car as needed.

As sis puts it, Mom could also go upstairs with some help, so she can participate in things. Mom will be contributing to electricity, sewer, and water to help defray the increased costs.

Sis has cleaned out Mom’s kitchen cupboards already. She found a can of cocoa in there that she says might have been from a time before manufacturers were required to put expiration dates on cans.

It is so good to have such a capable and energetic little sister. Gotta love her.

Thirstdaz Theme Music

Today is Thirstda, October 16, 2025. Fall sky and trees are in concert with sunshine and a spectrum of leafy colors to play against blue. Kind of visual that shows up on postcards and travelogues. Chilly 47 F but dry. Sun and air will take us to the upper sixties.

Met with my supplier last night. “Here,” she said, offering a brown paper bag. I glanced around for police or witnesses before accepting the bag. “Thanks.” She smiled. “Enjoy.”

Back in the truck, I told my driver, “Hit it.” Only then did I open the bag and peer in. Grins spread over my expression at the pretty collection of late-season figs.

Bad news for us on the ‘No Kings’ front. Ashland’s rally for this Satyrda was canceled. Couldn’t get a permit. We’ll attend the one in Medford instead.

The Epstein Shutdown has consumed over half of October of 2025. We’re still well short of the longest shutdown. That would be the Trump Shutdown of 2018-2019, which lasted 35 days. Large differences between the two include what DOGE did to the government before this shutdown, gutting the Federal infrastructure, mobilizing national guard units before this shutdown, and the deepening darkness of what’s going on with Federal spending as those functions have been kneecapped or muted. Also different this time is the capitulation of so many mainstream media outlets, aided by billionaire ownership who donate and support Trump. Last, of course, is the notorious masked ICE. They weren’t the unleashed paramilitary group they now are. Led by Kristi Noem, this force has demonstrated an eagerness to violently assault anyone who might by the wrong skin color, is in the wrong place, speaks with the wrong accent, or rolls their eyes at them.

Multiple Reports of US Citizens Detained in Chicago

The unsurprising news was delivered to us today that Mom’s boyfriend, Frank, passed away this morning. He would have been 96 in January. Love and light to Frank.

When Frank had his fall that precipitated his hospital stay and passing, he didn’t want Mom to call an ambulance or take him to the hospital. Told her that he was fine.

Today’s song is for Frank. Frank was a rock, dependable, reliable, steady, consistent. Not surprising that The Neurons placed “Carry On” by Fun in the morning mental music stream when the news came. Sample lyrics.

If you’re lost and alone
Or you’re sinking like a stone.
Carry on.
May your past be the sound
Of your feet upon the ground.
Carry on.

Carry on, carry on

h/t to AZLyrics.com

Time to carry on after a few more gulps of coffee. Hope peace and grace finds us and lifts us up, and does so pretty damn soon. Okay, here we go. Cheers

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