Tag: decisions

Black & White, Gardening & House: A Dream

I was working on a house. The house was a modern place, already completed, but I felt that changes were needed. I thought it was my house but sometimes as I worked on it, I thought it belonged to someone else. But I felt very sure that I had the right to change things

The house was white, a modern flat roof box. A breezeway separated the house from a spacious garage. The driveway was white, paved, and in excellent condition.

I decided to change the house’s material. I did so almost without thought – just done. As result, the house, which had been white, was now black or charcoal gray.

Family came by and asked why I did that. My father, who died last year, stopped by and asked why I’d changed it. Doing something else, I absently responded that it was a temporary move and that I would return it to white and could do so whenever I wanted.

Dad shrugged. “Well, whatever you want to do,” he said. “That’s your business. I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”

Those were words Dad often used. Sometimes he said, “I hope you know” rather than “I’m sure you know”.

Dad then took me to a garden section. Plants were growing there – tomatoes, onions, carrots, radishes, lettuce. He explained to me what to plant, where to plant it, how to fertilize and water it.

He left, expecting me to continue. I did so but was dissatisfied. He had a lot of starts which he wasn’t using. My sister came along. I was looking at the plants decided not to use. For example, a tomato plant already had several pieces of red fruit on it. I could see it visibly growing, so I decided I would add additional plants. I talked my sister into helping me. Although the plants weren’t as tidy as what Dad had done, I felt they had great potential.

He came by. I showed him what I’d done. Then, almost as an afterthought, I changed the house back to white.

Everyone could immediately see the difference in the house. They all then clamored for me to do that for their houses.

Dream end.

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One-Liner Wednesday: Decisions

My decision to decide later crumpled against a more urgent decision to get up and eat, which led me to a pause in front of the bathroom mirror where I decided, not today, and maybe not tomorrow.

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Thirteen

I follow and enjoy Ron, who writes imaginative and frequently humorous poetry.

Today, he had a great piece, “I’m with Elmo”. Its origins go back to Poets and Stories. They offered a challenge: take one of five famous quotes about April, and use it as inspiration.

Here is my piece, “Thirteen”.

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A Building Dream

Well, I dreamed my wife was driving the car. I was in the back seat of this dark green sedan beast. Weird, I was standing while my wife was sitting, sawing at the giant steering wheel. But my head was at her level. Oddly, the steering wheel was on the right, counter to the usual U.S. practice of having the wheel on the left side.

A gorgeous woman with a low top and cleavage displayed was on the seat behind me, wholly exciting me with her presence, trying to entice me to join her. I’m like, “That’s nuts!” My wife is driving us to either shopping or school. Note from the real-life side, my wife only drives me when my physical condition warrants it.

We stop. I climb out from the back seat. I ask my wife, “Where are we?” It seems familiar, like a beach we’ve visited but no beach is in sight. Instead, white pieces are all over the place.

I pick a few white pieces up with some WTF-self quizzing. They seem bigger than they were. At first, I thought them to be building blocks like the kind children use. Instead, these are as large as shoe boxes, but they’re light. Hardly weigh anything at all.

They’re all over the place, like wreckage. I can’t imagine what happened to cause it. Hurricane? Tornado? Both are feasible but what were the pieces part of and where were they before? I’m looking around, trying to place that.

A whim drives me to collect pieces. After doing that, I realize they can be put together and stacked as a wall. Amused, I do this for a bit. Finding and gathering more pieces, I put together corners, doorways, windows without much effort. I’ve been working a while in bright sunshine, a warm breeze coming along as a visitor. I was sweating and then realized I didn’t see my wife or the car. A little thinking about that progressed but I returned to my building effort. I wondered as I did if this thing I was building was strong enough to stand, and wondered, why am I even doing this? It seemed crazy.

Two other crazy aspects emerged as I worked. The building changed, becoming a real place. I was at once sure that I’d built it but also certain that I’d never done all the things I was seeing. Second, the day seemed to be progressing enormously slowly. I took some time to contemplate where the sun was, trying to think back to where it’d been when I began, but I couldn’t come up with any answer.

That’s where the dream ended.

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Five Short Dreams

Experienced five short dreams last night. That’s contrary to recent habits which had long, meandering dreams. I’ll only bore you with one.

This was military related. I was tasked with retrofitting a secure file cabinet fitted with a combination lock to ensure it could store Top Secret/Special Compartmentalized Information, along with Communications Security items (COMSEC), militaryese for code books. Some old military guy was half-heartedly overseeing my activity. Meanwhile, I was on shift with a young member. I expected the young airman to handle all the day’s routine events but had to address that with him several times, issuing reminders to complete the shift checklist, inventory our weapons, standard Air Force command post stuff during my career.

Then I attacked the file cabinet. It’d been previously cleared for classified but wasn’t considered robust enough for our new needs. I’d never done anything like this and lacked instructions. Pulling out drawers, I saw a sort of white, thick lining on them. I needed to pry that out, I decided, and hunted down a hammer, along with a large screwdriver, to pry the stuff out. But then, lo, when I went to apply the brute force and leverage, the pieces slipped right out.

I thought that would be the hard part and was delighted it went so well. Then, though, I had to do paperwork to document this thing’s new existence and use. I had the proper forms but someone had marked all over them and it wasn’t clear to me what to do.

As I puzzled that out, that old military guy came in and queried me about how it was going. I related that I’d finished the safe part. Somehow a crowd gathered to one side. The old guy boasted that he could probably crack the vault in less than three minutes and proceeded to make that effort. I drifted away from that effort to finish the paperwork, deciding, make a decision and do the best I can.

Dream end

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Eavesdropping

I’m busy typing at the coffee shop but the conversation going on with the newcomers to my left pluck me out of my fiction and into the real world.

The woman was catching up with her father. So I gathered because she asked, “What do you drink, Dad?”

“Black coffee.”

“Cream? Do you want a little cream?”

“No, black.”

They sat and talked. Her healthcare premiums were going up. That’d forced her to change insurance coverage, reducing it to reduce her monthly costs. That meant getting less insurance. Her deductible would now be $9,000 for her. Only her. Her monthly payment now would be $448 a month. She discussed the notices she’d received about her reduced subsidy now dictated by the Big Beautiful Bill.

Dad commiserated. Mentioned, you’re like one of those on television, facing tough choices because of the new bill. Lamenting that the legislators won’t take it up.

Then she said, “Thank God I’m healthy.”

I bit my tongue. Wondered about their politics. Shrugged.

This is where we’re at.  

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Mom Updates

First, my oral surgery this morning went super. I’m recovering without issues.

I don’t know what’s going on with Dad in Texas. They’ve gone silent. I’ve requested updates.

Now, to Mom. After being found constipated and in intense pain, Mom spent the night in a hospital. Now, she’s much better, back at home, and out of pain. But, his situation isn’t sustainable.

The family of Mom’s boyfriend agree. One of them has found an apartment for them. But will Frank agree? Will he move? Someone needs to have a deep heart-to-heart with him, making him see the light, and make it happen.

As with so many things in life, easier said than done. What’s even sadder is that we have multiple couples in this area who are on the verge of becoming Frank and Mom. They’ve set themselves up to move but they’re holding off, holding off, holding off. For what, a crises? Well, in a sense, yes. Change is challnging. They’re not ‘motivated’ to move…yet. But too many people aren’t willing to see for themselves how their situation is getting worse. They convince themselves that they’ll be okay and don’t have to move, so long as they get through the latest. But the latest gets worse. It’s not a one-time event; it’s part of a deepening trend, and they won’t see it. They refuse to see it, to their detriment.

And I do understand this. Making the logical, intelligent decision to change what’s going on is one thing. But following through with the emotional component and then the physical component are often something else altogether. And you know that these people, with their life experiences and age ehind them, often do understand this. They’ve seen others go through it; that’s why they did their planning.

It’s in the execution where they fail. And again, that’s where so many of us come up short, isn’t it?

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Frida’s Theme Music

The morning was spent texting with Mom. She prefers texting these days over phone calls. She had a day of doctor appointments yesterday and provided summaries. They’re going to work on her balance with physical therapy. That’s good news to me.

Her fiance’s son and my sister both approached Mom and her fiance about moving into assisted living. They did these separately. I don’t know if they coordinated their attempt.

It would be less dangerous to poke a hornet’s nest with a stick a few times. Mom and her beau are adamant against moving to a home of any kind other than the one where they live. He’s 95 and has difficulties seeing and hearing. She’s 89 and has mobility, heart, and balance issues. She copes with those problems via a massive regimen of medications, vitamins, minerals, lotions, and equipment. The house was built during WW II and has steep, narrow steps. But Mom loves her house, and her companion is happy living there.

Observing the health issues and the home debate always prompts conversations with my wife. “What will we do?” she asks. “I don’t know,” I say. I’m not looking forward to dealing with it.

It’s Frida, April 18, 2025. Good Friday, I suppose. 63 F, sunny but windy. A high of 74 F is in the works. I don’t think we’ll see that. 68 F was projected yesterday but the thermometer quit advancing at 64 F.

The cat has expressed his irritation with the wind. He applied to my wife and I to change it. My wife patiently explains, “I’m sorry, we can’t do that. Here, have a treat instead.”

He was spoiled via several treats. Then he came to me for his standard four-course breakfast. Two of the courses are treats that hide his meds in them. The thorough feeding does take his mind off the wind. The next time I see him, he’s going through his post-eating pre-napping grooming on the bed.

I have read several news articles. Some dealing with politics and rulings against Trump please me. On the whole, though, it’s another heavy serving of disappointing developments. After hearing my GRRRRRRRRR rising in my throat, I order myself to go do other things.

Today’s theme music is a beer group relic. I met with my beer group last Wednesday. The friends beside me began a conversation about popular music and what they listened to when they were young. One commented that some lines were going through his head, but he couldn’t recall the rest. I recalled the rest for him. The song is “I Think We’re Alone Now” by Tommy James and the Shondells. Conversation then swirled in other hits by the group, such as “Crystal Blue Persuasion”. Now The Neurons have those two tunes sharing the morning mental music stream. Thus, I’m forced to share them to break the pattern and release them from my stream.

That latter song is a woke DEI offering about peace and good, brotherhood, love, etc. Sure the Trumpites dislike it, or say that they like it and are all for love, peace, and brotherhood, but only for select people.

Coffee is working its positive way through me. Hope you have a positive day and a solid weekend. Cheers

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood: Percoffeecatiated

Happy Mother’s Day in the U.S. Hope all you mothers enjoy of celebration and joy.

Today is Sunday May 12, 2024. Clouds without breaks occlude the sun in the Churchill Valley where the cities I’m visiting are located. It’s 50 F now. Weather elements will lift our temp to 65 F. That sullen winter taste in the air has melted away. We’ve returned to a cold, wet, spring essence.

My Mother’s Day mental perambulations are searches for how to help Mom. She’s tired, often in pain, fighting to moving and thinking, but everything tires her to deep levels. She wants and needs help. Finding it is now my mission.

There are agencies to help. They’re mired in bureaucracy. Nothing has an easy approach or quick timelines. Phone calls, emails, and chats will be the upcoming week’s norms.

Her own habits, experiences, and expectations are a significant obstacle. She expects to bounce back but the bounce is gone. She wants or needs, which I guess should be married as a word, waeds, to do the cleaning she has always done, to be hygienic and neat. These things take hours and hours. Her zip has diminished to a lumpy trundle.

Her decline has been going on a while, since ‘The Fall’. That seemed to trigger everything; she’s been fighting against its ripples for over a decade. Classic story, definitely in America, probably in many other countries as well. She confided to me last night that she fell hard five times in the first three days after returning home. That is no good.

The morning mental music stream (Trademark flailing) has a song called “Paralyzer” orbiting it. The Finger Eleven beats started my mental journey while I was still abed. My brain was gyrating around the things wanted and the things needed, and the destinations and journeys of all the players when the 2007 tune kicked in. It’s not an even matchup between the song and the morning, except I was dealing with a sense of paralysis and a resistance to moving. Then I told myself I’d treat me to a cuppa coffee if I left the bed, dressed, and started doing things. I’m a sucker for a promise of coffee.

Stay positive, be strong, lean forward against the winds of resistance, and Vote Blue in 2024. The promise of coffee has been fulfilled. Here’s the music video.

Here we go. Cheers

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