Tag: food

Mundaz Theme Music

Autumn is in through the door. The temperature slipped to the upper 40s. Even stoic Papi came inside to slip, nesting in the living room Malabar chair, where a pillow case is draped over the cushions as a fur collector. 74 F, we expect 86 F as today’s upper limit in Ashlandia. Summer will not go easily. Trees are shedding leaves though. The ones hanging onto the branches are leaving their greens behind. This is Munda, September 22, 2025.

I’m off to a late posting start. We did our monthly Food & Friends delivery this morn. Then my wife wished for breakie so we went to a restaurant for that. Back home, it was 73 F in the house with sunshine streaming in, but she was cold and cranked up the office space heater, poor dear.

Right-wing insanity offers me deep reasons for new headshaking. We have a Catholic cardinal comparing Charlie Kirk, spreader of hate and bigotry, to St. Paul. Even as that ‘say-whaat?’ is processing, I read an excellent Daily Kos piece about Nebraska, Arkansas, and Tennessee FAFO farmers lamenting Trump’s tariffs and their impact on their soybean crops.

Trump-loving farmers want blue states to bail them out again

Just as Trump and the GOP are claiming free speech for them but not for thee, meaning anyone who opposes their right-wing authoritarianism, these farmers want their safety nets for them but not for everyone else.

Today’s theme music is born from thinking about MAGA et al. “Hey You” by Pink Floyd from The Wall from 1979 was brought into the morning mental music stream by The Neurons based principally on a few lines: “Hey, you! Don’t tell me there’s no hope at all. Together we stand, divided we fall.” Enuff said.

Back in the saddle again. Time write and roll. Hope grace and peace find us, and soon, damn it. grumble grumble old man mutterings, etc. Cheers

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A Cheetah Dream

I dreamed that my wife and I and several family members were traveling together. Just ending a journey together, we arrived at my house. This was a tiny but crowded place with bare cinder block walls. Included among my family was a sister and one of her daughters, and several of her grandchildren.

I was first into the house. Getting in there, I discovered a full-grown cheetah in our house. My arms were full of grocery bags, limiting what I could do. My dream brain said something like, “Holy shit, there’s a cheetah in the house.” The house was a friggin’ mess, so cluttered with junk that I struggled to walk across the floor. As I did try to walk across the floor, the cheetah gently took hold of my shirt tail in its mouth and tried pulling me in another direction.

My wife and others entered. I warned them, “There’s a cheetah in here.” They didn’t seem to pay attention but I continued, “I think he wants me to feed him. I don’t know if it’s male, to be honest, but I think he’s trying to pull me toward his food.”

That’s what the cheetah did seem to be doing. I talked to it like it was my housepet, explaining that I’d feed him in a second, but I needed to put things down and food his food first. Whenever I’d go toward where I thought the food was, the cheetah would get happy and chirp small, high-pitched mews at me. But if I turned away from its food, it’d would swat at me. Never with true menace, but still, it’s a cheetah.

Sometimes I would swear. Then a second sister, who’d joined without being noticed, would remind me of little ones being present, and I’d apologize. My niece’s husband also joined us, making my place very crowded. All through this, the cheetah paid no attention to anyone except me. Meanwhile, I kept asking the cheetah, “How did you get in here?” The dream ended as I reached for food to give the cheetah.

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Twozdaz Wandering Thoughts

This here is what they call one of those unsolicited testimonials.

My wife follows a vegan diet. I do not. But I try to accommodate her dietary choices, so I eat plant-based foods, etc. Well, two weeks ago, I spied some vegan cinnamon-toast-muffins made by Rubicon Bakers. I thought, they look good, so I bought them and took them home. Well, my instincts were right in this case, as my sweetie and I both found them moist and flavorful. Great with hot coffee.

https://www.rubiconbakers.com/muffins-gallery/vegan-cinnamon-toast-muffin

Following that success, I purchased another Rubicon Bakers product, the lemon-raspberry cupcakes. We just finished off a package — one cupcake for each of us yesterday, another one each today as dessert after dinner. We’re not total pigs, you know. And these were also wonderfully tasty.

https://www.rubiconbakers.com/store/vegan-lemon-raspberry-cupcakes

We wholeheartedly recommend them. If you see Rubicon Bakers vegan products, open your mind and give your taste buds a treat. You’ll thank me later.

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A Dream of Quinn

I dreamed last night that one of my cats came back to me. His name is Quinn. He was a tiny, long-haired, blackfoot sweetheart. In the dream, I was cleaning a house, dusting, sweeping, etc. The house seemed to be mine although it was no house recognized from real life.

Quinn, back in the day.

Quinn, a meticulously groomed cat, was matted in my dream. Seeing that, I made plans to thoroughly wash him and brush his fur and get it unmatted. Per his personality, Quinn dashed around. An intelligent and inquisitive beast, he always was there to see what was going on, but he despised change, and loud noises unsettled him and sent him scurrying off to a quiet safe place. So, in my dream, I ceased cleaning and making noise and just worked on coaxing Quinn to me and gaining his trust to de-mat him. I was just beginning to do so when the dream ended.

Papi, my current floof-in-residence, asks, why are you dreaming of other cats?

Oddly, awakening from that dream and reflecting on it stirred memories of living with Mom when I was young. Mom’s home would be noisy with cleaning. She’d get up and leap into action. After scrubbing the kitchen, she’d turn on the dishwasher. Next, a load of wash would be started. While dishes and clothes washed, she’d vacuum, creating a cacophony of modern cleaning. Then would be dusting and a thorough attack on the bathroom. We only had one. If home, I’d often be volunteered to vacuum and dust. Mind you, the house was already spotless before Mom started cleaning, but she always cleaned to the nth degree. In reflection, part of her house-cleaning approach was that her home reflected her abilities in her mind. I also think she reveled in the routines and sounds, as well as the results.

The other thing, on days like this, where clouds handicap the sunshine and cool air dishes it to the land, Mom would busy herself with making hot food like chili. Her chili depended on several cans of dark red kidney beans, a large diced white onion, a chopped up green pepper, a tin of tomato paste and another of stewed tomatoes, and a couple pounds of browned hamburger. I know this because I was also volunteered to help with this process.

I learned a lot at Mom’s elbow.

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Fridaz Theme Music

Oppressive humidity is doing in the morning. Not overly high humidity in the general sense. We’re just not used to humidity here.

It’s Frida, September 5, 2025. Temperature is 72 F but it feels warmer and less comfortable due to the humidity. We’ll peak in the low 90s today, unlike yesterday, when we clashed with 97 F.

My sister-in-law and her boyfriend arrived. Although they came in from Florida, they weren’t prepared for the heat. They’d been on the coast, then went inland to see the redwoods, and talked about the 30-degree temperature change they experienced in a short time and distance. The boyfriend, a year or two my senior, then asked as we walked around, “Can we go to somewhere with air-conditioning and sit down for a pint?” He’s an amiable individual. An engineer, we discovered that he and I grew up in Pittsburgh suburbs about four miles of each other. We’re both Steeler football fans. Besides three pints, he drank a tumbler of scotch during the space of dinner and the next two hours.

They’re sleeping in this morning after doing a lot of driving and traveling over the past three days. Once they call, we’ll take them somewhere local for food and then do local sightseeing.

I saw the jobs report this morning. Funny that firing the BLS person responsible for the last dismal jobs report didn’t change the dismal numbers. Just 22,000 jobs added. Oh, my. Not looking good for Trump’s economy. These hard numbers are backing up the anecdotes we’re hearing about business chains closing locations, small and medium businesses shuttering their doors, layoffs being announced. Lots of FAFO stories emerging. Of course, that could be the news services which I frequent catering to my interests and attitudes, at least to some degree. I try vesting such info as best as I can but that’s a challenge in this digital era.

Today’s music arrived from a confluence of events. One, Papi and I were out last night. I first was checking the moon, then looking for spaceships. Papi accompanied me. I’m not sure what he was checking out. Then, I dreamed that I was cooking. The meal was coming out looking good and smelled good. It was being done in this strange little apartment. But as I was cooking, several Russians stopped by. They were mostly talking to my wife but also addressing questions to me. This annoyed and distracted me.

The net of this, as I recalled last night and the dream, is that The Neurons rose up with a Jackson Browne song called “Lawyers in Love”. A satirical song about U.S. politics, consumerism, and U.S. pop culture, its lyrics feature both Russians and spaceships. I enjoy the song, but many friends thought it odd when it came out. Of course, that’s precisely why I enjoyed it.

I can’t keep up with what’s been going on
I think my heart must just be slowing down
Among the human beings in their designer jeans
Am I the only one who hears the screams
And the strangled cries of lawyers in love

God sends his spaceships to America, the beautiful
They land at six o’clock and there we are, the dutiful
Eating from TV trays, tuned in to Happy Days
Waiting for World War III while Jesus slaves
To the mating calls of lawyers in love

Last night I watched the news from Washington, the capitol
The Russians escaped while we weren’t watching them, like Russians will
Now we’ve got all this room, we’ve even got the moon
And I hear the U.S.S.R. will be open soon
As vacation land for lawyers in love

I find it humorous and love the musical flourishes which reflect different eras of pop music.

Time to rock and roll another day away. Hope that grace and peace finds and guides you. Have the best Frida possible. Cheers

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Sumpin A Lil’ Different

My wife does a lot of scrolling. Not just doom scrolling, but also watching animal, political, and humor videos. She also reads a lot and constantly prowls for more books for her TBR list.

Today she was listening to Kristen Key talking about Buffalo Wings and other matters in Buffalo, NY. I found it funny and interesting and thought, let’s share this with the world. Socialize Kristen Key’s humor. Let us all laugh a bit. Hope you enjoy it as much as me.

Cheers

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But, But, But

Daily writing prompt
How are you feeling right now?
View all responses

I feel like I’m on the edge. See, I’ve been writing a novel manuscript. Almost at the end, confrontations are underway. It’s tense and violent. I don’t want to stop writing, but —

Yes, life is littered with buts, those interruptions to intents and purposes. Several buts are engaging me. First, honestly, is my derriere, aka, my butt. I’ve been sitting and typing for about 80 minutes straight, and my butt is crying, “Up, damn you, up. Give me a break.” It’s classic writer’s butt.

My stomach is also complaining that it’s been too long since food was introduced to my mouth. And my coffee is cold. Just two swallows remain.

A war, then, is raging between the Writing Neurons and the Practical Neurons. The Writers want to stay and keep writing. “Damn it, man, you’re on a roll. Don’t stop now.” But the Practicals are urging, “Go get food. Run errands. Get other things done.”

The final piece of it all is time, though. Time is the empress. Much as I want to keep writing, I have real-world commitments to fulfill. So how do I feel?

Well, resigned to the inevitable brought on by the buts.

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Sundaz Theme Music

Greetings from Cape Perpetua. Two miles south of Yachats, Oregon, Cape Perpetua is part of the coast range, the Siuslaw. We visited this morning after breakfast. Breaky was again at a favored eatery, The Green Salmon. My choice was a “Only Murder” sausage (plant-based) and Just Egg omelet with red peppers and vegan Swiss and cheddar cheeses and rye toast. Awesome.

The view from Cape Perpetua overlooking the Pacific, where the weather stole the blue. August 24, 2025, about 12:30 PM. If you look closely, a road is spotted. That’s Highway 101. Runs all along the Oregon Coast and then goes into California to points south. Above/east of 101 is the Visitor Center. We hit it next.

It’s Sunda, August 24, 2025. Beat down by fog and wind, 64 was the day’s high. Still lovely. The casa’s regular routine has us punching back into our dwelling at 3ish. We then become the napping dead or silence is ordained by people reading books. After reading, I sucked in coffee and went on a brisk beach walk. The path was mostly mine as everyone shunned a chilly, damp wind. Now we’re settling in for dinner. Cooking rotates. Tonight’s chef is making salmon burgers with chips and guacamole. Dessert is chocolate ice cream, fruit, or fondue.

Today’s music is “Tightrope” by Stevie Ray Vaughn and Double Trouble. I don’t know why The Neurons called this up during my pre-breakfast stroll. Mine is not to question why, just sing along and go for the ride.

Coffee and wine have been imbibed. Hope peace and grace find and hold you today and every day. Cheers

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Thirstdaz Theme Music

A gorgeous day of blue sky and blue ocean gave us a sunny good-morning today. 65 F that feels like 71. Skin-chilling sea breeze skips off the water and charges up over us. Today’s high is that 65. It was a short climb from the overnight low of 58 F. Narrow margins preside over this period of weather for the most part.

Thirstda morning, 10:30 AM, Yachats, Oregon, 8/21/2025

TACO revealed his cowardly side again. First, he’d demonstrated his authoritarian tendency by declaring that he was changing how we vote. Yeah, he’s smarter than the founders and everyone who has worked on the laws and mechanisms involved in the U.S. voting process since the nation was established. He also proved himself ignorant again of how the gubmint works — especially voting and states’ rights. Once again, all this has me shaking my head at all those voters who support him. Meanwhile, after pushback against his comments and ideas, TACO backed away fast from what he was saying. He realized he sounded like a fool. Trump no like looking like a fool, even though he does it so often, he’s become very adept at appearing the fool. Just another exasperating GRRRRRRR Trump Regime episode.

After reading that, it was out to walk to breakfast food. We were out there eating, having coffee, then walking. Food and drink were had at a place called The Green Salmon, one of our all-time favorite places. Delicious vegan food. I had plant-based sausage and Just Eggs sandwich on multigrain vegan bread with lettuce and tomato. Soooo gooood. Another had oat pancakes. No diary; no meats. All is plant-based, delicious, and amazing. Down where the rocky land holds on against the pounding waves, we watched one or more whales release flumes and show their backs. Funny how excited we get when we spot them.

Today’s song is “Renegades” by the X Ambassadors. This came about when one of our little vacationing tribe declared to a friendly coastal local that we were ambassadors from southern Oregon. Seizing the moment, The Neurons dialed up “Renegades” from 2015 into the morning mental music stream.

May the sun be your friend and peace and grace stay with you. Here I go again, on coffee wings. Cheers

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.

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