A Chaotic Dream

I read an article in a newspaper, something about prizes being given away, and decided that would be a good idea for my group of friends. I don’t recall prize details but I thought they were practical household goods — but expensive — which some of my friends could use. So I pulled my local friends together and pushed the idea on them, persuading them, “Let’s do this.”

We then got on the phone to call two other couples. We used to live close to each other but they’d moved away. I knew the wives better than their husbands, as I’d known the women first, so I kept forgetting the men’s names when I was on the phone with them.

We ended up at one of the couple’s house. It was a small three-bedroom, two baths California townhouse. Not shabby but cluttered. They were home but the husband wasn’t coming out; I sensed our ‘invasion’ irritated him and felt sort of sad that he lived in a small, cluttered place.

There was a device we were supposed to use in conjunction with this scheme, although the scheme was to call people up or knock on their doors and try to sign them up. The little rectangular device had come apart, so I was trying to fix it. Mostly metal, with a wind-up motor and gears, it also had some small red and yellow pieces, and a body that clipped on it. I continued trying to fix that while talking to others and laughing.

After a long period of aimless conversations, everyone agreed with my idea. One of the guys, a younger Mexican-native American who I worked with before, came to me and told me my assignment was to go sign up three new customers. I declined, explaining, “I’m not a salesperson. My role is to organize and oversee.”

He accepted that but seemed glum. I finished fixing the little device and put it together, telling him, “Look, I fixed it.” I felt very proud of that, vindicated because ‘I knew I could do it’.

I then asked him what the matter because his energy seemed low, then guessed that he was facing discrimination from his boss. He confirmed that, adding, “It’s others, too.” We spoke about that a little bit more.

Another friend came in to tell me my wife was missing. She said she’d gone to bed but she wasn’t in her bed. I went and checked on her; she was in bed. I told her that others checked on her, but she wasn’t there and asked where she’d been. Crossly, she replied, “I had to go to the bathroom.”

I went back out and told my friends about the exchange, then I again went looking for my wife. This time, I went outside and up the street. We were in a suburban neighborhood. I found her sitting on a lawn chair on someone’s walk to their front door. Sprinkler systems were on, watering large, lush green front yards.

My wife was younger and laughing, though she was alone. She pointed out this kitten. Tail straight up, it was an odd tarnished gold color and was prancing around. My wife said that it’s a stray but she was very fond of the cat and had been watching it for a while.

Dream end

On Mom

If I come and visit

Will you know my face

Will you talk to me

Like your son

Or lace your words with hate

Will your texts ever change

From anger and demands

Will you stand and hug me

As you kiss my head

Can we sit and laugh

Remembering what we ate

Playing games of Tripoli

Hoping for a good hand

Or will you stare

Not speaking

Leaving me

In silence

Saturday’s Theme Music

Ashland, Oregon — Saturday, February 21, 2026. 40 F, the wind is beating the trees up. Sunshine intermittently brightens the world but someone spilled a can of mottle gray paint over the sky. Today’s high will be in the low fifties.

Great night of sleep, a few remembered dreams. My nose and nasal passages are about 90% clear today. Light, unproductive cough. Mucus discharge was thick and green, the first like that. Energy levels and focus are way up. It’s day 11 of my upper respiratory infection.

My mornings now include an hour catching up on text messages about Mom. She’s in assisted living, plans to stay there until the end of February, and then return to her home. We’re against that last, and so is everyone else in the world. But the system says, let her do as she chooses because she’s an adult. Our reasoning doesn’t sway her. I put out energy that she’ll change her mind, be happy, and stay where she’s at. At the same time, I respect all the changes she’s been enduring. That’s tough on anyone.

I’ve also been in conversations with others and know our problems with our aging parent is not that rare. We, as a society, need to figure out a better plan moving forward. This is not sustainable, and I want to spare others this sort of mess.

With all that’s going on — writing, politics, Mom — well, life — The Neurons have introduced “Roll with the Changes” into the morning mental music stream. REO Speedwagon released it back in the late 1970s, and I always enjoy its high energy. I think it’s perfect for shifting gears from recovering from sickness, dealing with Mom, and coping with the Trump cycles. In a way, I hope it presages a future where more SCOTUS decisions go against Trump and more people announce their disapproval of him and/or his policies. I also hope it foretells more names coming from the Epstein files and some justice for the people who abused others, and those who were abused. The Europeans are leading the way in this, so let’s hope that the truth emerges from across the ocean, as our government seems too eager to predict the guilty and damn the innocent.

Friends have invited us over to play games at their place with another couple, so I’ll be socializing. Going to go the whole nine yards — shower, shave, dress. LOL. I can imagine people responding, “Well, I hope so.”

My hope for you and me and us is that we all get a little more than the recommended daily minimum of grace and peace in our lives today, maybe enough to fertilize some optimism for where we’re going and who we are as a people and a nation. For now, I have coffee.

Cheers

Thirstdaz Theme Music

High winds imitated taxiing jets all night long. We awoke to quiet sunshine and a drying land. 42 F, we hit like 49 F before the weather flipped into falling temperatures and increasing precipitation. It rained hard for a while and dropped into the thirties. Now it’s in the thirties but clear under fading sunshine. This was Christmas, Thirstda, December 25, 2025.

We were out of the house before nine AM, hitting the road to buzz to the other side of town for a breakfast brunch. The time was dropped on me yesterday. “We’re going to be there at nine?” I was incredulous. Friends had invited us to their place but that seemed like a early holiday hour when gift exchanging and children weren’t involved. We made it, no problem.

They weren’t ready for us. The husband didn’t make an appearance for over thirty minutes. We know him well and understand the health issues which slowed him. Guest number five arrived about twenty minutes after hubby showed. Guest number six was a no-show. She later called to apologize but she was having memory issue and forgot.

No matter. I was stewing about hurrying to be there when others clearly were less prepared than me for the early hour. The food, however, was sensational. Ham steaks. Plant based sausages. Dutch baby. Mexican quiche. Bananas, oranges, raspberries and blueberries. Delicious food, and after all but one arrived, a fun time, despite the early hour.

The early hour did have me smiling in memory about my childhood. Back then, filled with Santa-inspired energy, we were up by five AM, eager to see what presents had arrived. It’s a sweet look back at memories of an innocent period. Well, innocent for me. Mom and Dad were busy adulting, managing children, money, and all the associated pressures and needed.

Our fifth guest was a stranger. A music student from the Czech Republic, Tereza is 23 years old, a keyboardist who is learning music history (which, yes, she finds boring and tedious) while also being taught about more instruments. Most fascinating is her growing mastery of the pipe organ. She travels to another town to play a pipe organ in a Presbyterian Church. She shared some video of her playing.

She also gamely responded to our inquisition about the small village where she grew up, her parents and life in the Czech Republic, and their Christmas holiday traditions. A catholic, she shared their story that baby Jesus brings gifts and puts them under the tree. Yes, I wanted to know, how does baby Jesus get around? She laughed and replied, “That was our question, too.”

Then, following Christmas traditions (not), we played a full game of Mexican Train. Mexican Train felt like some kind of inherent slur, so we sought other names for it as we sorted rules, cheered wins, and lamented losses. A different and fun way to spin away Christmas hours.

Meanwhile, my sisters and I and Mom and I shot texts and videos back and forth. It’s the latest new holiday tradition.

Today’s music is “Come As You Are” by Nirvana. The Neurons fired it up in the morning mental music stream when I rolled out of bed and began fumbling through showering, shaving, and dressing. I don’t mind get up ‘early’ but I dislike being forced to forego my leisurely morning routine. As I progressed through my routine at a faster pace, The Neurons teased, “Just go as you are.” Hence, the song’s presence in the MMMS.

Had a pleasant Christmas with my wife and friends. Barely any coffee consumed. I think peace and grace peeked in on us. Hope peace and grace dropped in on you, too, however briefly it might have been, whether this is a holiday you celebrate or just another day on the calendar. Cheers

1982

Daily writing prompt
Your life without a computer: what does it look like?

I’ve lived without a computer before. It actually wasn’t terrible. Yes, I’m now spoiled. Personal computers have been life changing.

But jump back to 1982. I was in the U.S. Air Force, stationed at Kadena Air Base on Okinawa, an island that belongs to Japan. Commodore’s VIC 20 had us abuzz about computers. While we could easily see how it would make many things easier, shopping wasn’t yet on the menu. Nor was getting news updates. It was only toward the end of 1983 that I began learning about the concepts of ‘bulletin boards’, the Internet, and the worldwide web.

So back then, we watched television. Movies were watched via VHS tapes. That was the latest, greatest tech move for us, and such devices were still running close to $1,000. But we had one to help us weather the lack of entertainment inherent in being overseas. Remember, this was before satellite TV, too, for all practical purposes. All that stuff was just coming out, as were microwave ovens. They were also huge, bulky, expensive machines, but we purchased on of those, as well.

It’s hard to believe how fast everything changed. In late 1983, I bought my first CD player. It played one CD at a time. Returning to the U.S. from Japan, we gave our VHS player to my wife’s parents, and bought ourselves a new, smaller one with more features, including a remote control. That was the same year that I bought my first computer, a small but heavy Kaypro. Running at 4.77 megahertz, with a tiny green screen, it ran on CP/M and offered minimal RAM and two floppy drives that used 5 1/4 inch disks. It was a wild scene. We learned how to add RAM, make things faster, and double our floppy disks’ storage. Ten megahertz machines were being touted as possibilities, along with 64K of RAM and a 5-meg hard drive and 16 color monitors! Wow!

Back before that, we read. A lot. Books were checked out from the library, and research was done at the library. I subscribed to multiple magazines, such as Writer’s Digest, Autoweek, and Road & Track. Went for walks, played sports, read newspapers, which were delivered daily. When I lived in San Antonio, Texas, I subscribed to both the San Antonio Light and the Wall Street Journal. Even with the computer and VHS player coming along, and the CD player, and DVD players, most of that didn’t change. We still visited malls to shop, and used Sears and Spiegel catalogues to make orders, calling in to toll free numbers to put the order in. Board games like Risk, Life, and Monopoly were popular with us, along with Trivial Pursuit, and card games like Tripoli and King on the Corner, and Solitaire.

No, the big change came when the Internet finally fired up. My experience with it began in 1991, when I came back from Germany. Slow as hell, to be sure. Connections through modems which had to be hooked up. LOL. That changed fast, too, as built-in modems came along. I was both a Compuserve and AOL subscriber. Email was a new, exciting idea.

Then, suddenly we went to 256 colors and beyond on our monitors. The mouse became popular. 100 megahertz machines were being sold. I remembered buying and installing a 100-meg hard drive, and laughing. How was I ever going to use that much storage? It seemed so excessive. By then, our floppy drives were down to three-inch little colorful things. Now, we’re like, floppy drive? What the heck is that?

Going online was a wild scene back in the mid 1990s. Weren’t many websites in those early days. The games were something else. Research, news, and sports all became much more accessible. Then, boom…social media. That’s when things really flipped.

I’ve gone a few days in 2025 without my computer and without the Internet. Like before, we read, played games, and went for walks.

Just like it was 1982, just forty years ago, when I was younger, and so was the personal computer.

Thirstdaz Theme Music

Today is Thirstda, August 28, 2025. We awoke to a pleasant 65 F. A cloud regatta keeps the sky from being blue and free. 96 F is expected today.

After dreaming about having a new kitten, I got up and faced a new challenge: remembering who was in the Partridge Family. The Patridge Family was an American pop singing group and television sitcom.

I owe this AM conundrum to an exchange during Mexican Train on Saturday night. Someone said something about getting happy. It was late. We were giddy by then. That’s when we have the most fun. Usually, we play off words and sing songs. Hilarity ensues. But in parallel, we’d been pursuing 1960s pop culture trivia. I asked our group, “Who sang, ‘Come On, Get Happy’?” None remembered the song, forcing me to sing it. None still remembered, so I played found a Youtube video of it. Now I pass it on to you.

Except, The Neurons were hijacked by The Go-Go’s, “Our Lips Are Sealed”. That video followed the other. I found the 1981 offering more interesting. I remember watching that video in some club on Okinawa, where I was assigned to Kadena Air Base from May of 81 through the end of 84.

My wife and I mentioned the Mexican Train game to multiple people. Many were familiar with it. One friend said she hated it but never explained why. She’s a very controlling individual who likes order, so I suspect the game’s chaos might annoy her. That’s just my suspicion and I really want to hear her explanation.

One thing that’s offered here in Ashland is lithium water. One can drink it straight out of the fountain at Lithia Park’s entrance. I mention this because we discussed the value of lithium in treating dementia last night. One individual said, “All we need to do is take a sip out of the fountain every day.” Another responded, “But that water tastes like wet farts.”

I read an excellent Mother Jones article today: The Brain Rot Cabinet. As the article points out, Trump’s cabinet are deeply invested in wild and unproven conspiracies. What’s important to Trump is that they share his values and are obedient lapdogs. They will do nothing good for the nation nor the world. Meanwhile, all those of us still anchored to reality can do is grit our teeth and resist.

Representative Ashley Hinson (Iowa, MAGA) got an earful when she tried convincing her constituents that the Big Beautiful Bill was wonderful, claiming it raised wages and improved the cost of living. We the People in Iowa weren’t having it. According to an article in The New Republic (via Yahoo), people shouted back objections.

“Higher wages?” shouted one woman incredulously. “For who? For you?”

“Cost of living is higher than it’s ever been,” another woman said.

“You are a fraud,” a constituent shouted at her at the time.

I only hope more wake up, stand up, shout back, fight back, and resist.

Coffee has made a controlled landing into my system once again. I hope peace and grace shadows you in all your endeavors today. Here we go, one more time. Cheers

Wenzdaz Theme Music

Yachats, Oregon, sunset, 8/19/2025

It’s a foggy Yachats morning. Inspired by cool ocean air, the temperature is hovering at a cozy 59 F. The land is expected to slip out of the fog at about 11 AM and jump to 65 F. Meanwhile, I’m happily wandering around in a fog.

Lively post dinner conversation last night revolved around Trump’s arrogance, lies, and continual power grab. How will it all ultimately unfold? There’s hope that the people will rise up. There’s worry that Trump will shrug that off, and, braced with the Roberts Court’s stance and GOP governors providing national guard troops to subdue We the People and our rights.

We were also introduced to a game called Mexican Train which involves dominoes. I was pretty damn leery of playing but it was fun and addictive. I look forward to playing more. We also walked for miles, with me accumulating ten miles.

Today’s music arrived via last night’s sunset. Of course. Waiting for it to arrive, my group started singing snippets of songs about sunset. The Neurons jumped into the routine and, lo, here I am this morning, with Gordon Lightfoot singing “Sundown” in the morning mental music stream.

Coffee has arrived in my body and The Neurons are doing the coffee dance. May grace and peace find and keep you. Cheers

Facts, Truths, & Observations

Daily Kos has a smile-producing post today. Here are some highlights.

What in the name of dysentery is Kristi Noem talking about?

Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem is so freakin’ weird.

On Monday, the official Department of Homeland Security X account posted an image of a painting, along with the caption, “Remember your Homeland’s Heritage. New Life in a New Land – Morgan Weistling.”

DHS screenshot dysentery MM

First, Noem is showing a painting of people who could be immigrants. Many immigrants came to the United States and went west as settlers or pioneers. But let’s go on.

DK points out the Oregon Trail truth:

If you grew up playing the video game “Oregon Trail,” you know what this evokes: dysentery. The National Park Service estimates that 30,000 settlers died from it—nearly 10%—on the Oregon Trail alone. That’s 10-15 deaths per mile.

But maybe that’s on brand for today’s conservatives. After all, they’re bizarrely excited to bring back measles, too.

But dysentery was just the beginning. Gun mishaps, hypothermia, wild animals, drowning during river crossings, rightly hostile Indigenous tribes—this was a death gauntlet. It’s just plain weird to romanticize one of the most brutal chapters of American expansionism.

And that baby in the painting? That poor, nameless baby?

In the mid-1800s, one-third of children didn’t make it to their 5th birthday according to this study from Our World in Data. Other estimates suggest that infant mortality was closer to 40-45% during this era and likely even higher on the trail. 

~snip~

And stepping back, what does this painting even have to do with DHS? Are they trying to police vibes now?

It’s just all so weird.

These Trumpists aren’t “tough.” They’re just strange.

What strikes me as so wild and strange about this is is similiarity to Trump’s fantasy that he’s like the fictional Superman character. Both Noem and Trump’s willingness to play make-believe has to dismiss the truth and facts. Many ratioed Trump’s post, pointing out that Superman was an undocumented immigrant, and that he stood up for the oppressed, and was not an oppressor, like Trump. Superman fights the kind of evil which Trump is spearheading.

Yep, the Trumpettes are delusional. They’re bullies. They’re liars.

And they’re strange.

Twosda’s Wandering Political Thoughts

We’re a nation of games. How many of us play a computer game or two each day? I am guilty. The NY Times offers me Connections, Wordle, and Spelling Bee. I play them to keep my mind sharp *ahem*. I also play Sudoku at the Seattle Times, again to exercise my brain.

Online gaming is big business. People buy special chairs, headsets, computers and support systems to play hours online. Playing games on phones are an effective way to pass time while waiting for flights, buses, or meetings to begin.

Children begin playing games at a young age. Occupies their minds, helps their brains develop, and gives parents and caregivers a break. Games such as sports like football, basketball, and baseball are idolized as a way to gain fame and fortune. Television game shows offer you a chance for cash prices, as do lottery games. Besides a chance for people to add to their bank accounts, states use lotteries to raise money for education and projects. Indian casinos have increased in numbers, bringing money in for cash-starved tribes, and tax revenues and employment for communities.

The biggest games center in Washington, DC. Trump and the GOTP, along with complicit media, love playing games with The People. For instance, the cost of eggs.

Trump lies and claims that egg prices have dropped over ninety percent. In one speech, he claimed they’d declined over 98%! Ludicrous. Meanwhile, the Dollar Store has raised its prices to $1.25 and plan to raise them more. That comes and goes under the radar as Trump games people into looking elsewhere.

If you’re a coffee drinker, you know that coffee prices have increased. Initially, it’s not Trump’s fault. Weather affected coffee crops in important coffee growing places. This is just like the egg situation; it wasn’t President Biden’s fault that egg prices increased. Bird flu was causing it. Yet, we don’t hear nearly the screams about coffee inflation that we heard about eggflation. Because Trump and his campaign hammered eggflation. The game participants called the mass media picked up the ball and ran with it, trying to score points. But now, thanks to the Trump tariffs, coffee prices are percolating higher and higher. Little is heard, though. Trump has moved their attention to another game.

Meanwhile, funny enough, check out the egg prices on eggprices.org. Their chart shows egg prices have dropped.

But check below on the same page, at the highest price per dozen in the nation, and the lowest price per dozen in the U.S.:

Isn’t that odd? Virginia is cited as having the lowest price of eggs per dozen: $7.39. Yet the chart by the Bureau of Labor Statistics shows the average price of eggs per dozen is $3.43 a dozen.

Sure seems odd. Almost like someone is gaming the BLS chart.

Trump and Walmart are probably going to game us over prices. Walmart said they’ll increase prices to cope with the tariffs. Trump warned them, you’d better not, you’d better eat them. Walmart said, okay, will do, chief. What they’ll probably do at Walmart is subtly raise prices on specific sets of items and blame other factors. Trump will let them get away with it because they’re not blaming his tariffs. But customers will be paying more; inflation will increase.

In other gaming news, we have President Biden’s prostate cancer. Of course Trump and his surrogates, such as his son and the DOJ, jumped all over it with stories of coverups. They’re gaming the nation by feeding the media distractions, moving our attention away from Supreme Court rulings, Trump failures, and Trump scandals.

Among the failures are Trump’s pretended success with a Ukraine-Russia ceasefire. Check out multiple news sources on this continuing situation.

Trump Says Russia, Ukraine Will Start Ceasefire Talks

Trump says Russia, Ukraine peace talks to begin ‘immediately’ after Putin chat

Trump Backs Off His Demand That Russia Declare a Cease-Fire in Ukraine

What superb gamemanship! Trump is playing everybody…in the United States.

Likewise, with Trump’s potential scandal involving the Qatari jet offer, suddenly claims emerge that the Biden administration initiated that process. Ignoring all previous history on the subject, the press dutifully pivots toward that, bringing the Biden administration back into play.

The latest word game Trump is playing is his “Big Beautiful Bill” in Congress. This thing is loaded with strategically placed bombs to undermine the nation. It focuses on making the wealthy wealthier and sinking the poor deeper into poverty. As it’s based on Project 2025 and Heritage Foundation thinking and guidance, you know that this is about easing the burden on the wealthiest, thus encouraging them to create more business for the nation. These are the same people who offshored and contracted out manufacturing jobs. These are people who hoard wealth while others starve, beg, and are rendered homeless.

This is, of course, trickle-down economics. The theory has been disproven but the wealthy and conservatives love it. So we will not hear anyone calling it that this year. But that’s what Trump is leading the GOTP to do in his “Big Beautiful Bill”.

It’s not a surprise that Trump’s approval ratings have improved in polls. Too many people are too easily taken in by the games, or they’re busy playing elsewhere.

Now, I’m off. There are six pangrams today. Let the games continue.

Fun Dream

There I was, trapped like a hunted animal, weapon in hand, growling in my throat as I firmed my spirit and mind to fight back.

Naw, it wasn’t anything like that. I was there to play a game. Don’t ask me what the game was; the dream assumed I knew that. There were four to a side. A female teammate and I were waiting to take the field. We were on a platform overlooking the game space. That space wasn’t large.

Besides us on that platform was a younger person, a black-haired white woman. She was part of the team we were playing next. She wordlessly walked between my teammate and me and moved to a corner where she stopped, leaning back against the railing. I knew of her but I didn’t know her. We’d previously played.

Crossing to her, I said, “Listen, I hope I didn’t hurt you before.” Yes, apparently during a previous game, I’d blocked her pretty roughly. “The move went awry and wasn’t executed as well as it could have been.”

Suddenly brightening, she answered, “Oh, no, it’s all good. That was pretty bang, bang. There’s not much we can do when the game is on, and you were in a zone. You played fantastic. I can’t fault you for anything.”

Her response surprised me. We chatted. My teammate joined in. We all became friendlier. Then we were called to play.

I was guarding my new friend, aggressively tracking her. She had the ball, which was round and brown like a basketball. She could bounce or carry it but could only be the one with the ball for a limited time, which a red-numbered timer tracked. As I harried her, blocking her moves, she threw the ball right to me.

This excited fans and the announcer. I hadn’t noticed either before this. A roar went up. The announcer shouted, “She threw the ball right to him! She threw the ball right to him!” My opponent was upset but regained her poise to come after me.

Seeing an opening, I passed the ball to a of teammates who were in scoring position. Incredibly, the guy who was supposed to catch it and pass it on bobbled the ball. Now it was my turn for disappointment and frustration.

Unfortunately, that’s where the dream ended.

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