The Party Bathroom Dream

I was young again – LOL – but middle-aged, and part of this large celebration.

Held outside, in a large green park, the party was to celebrate the birthday of someone famous. I have no idea who. Tables the length of football fields, covered in white tablecloths, set with dishware, china, and silverware, lined the park’s perimeter. Terrific food, cakes, sandwiches, veggies.

There were also numerous river-rock buildings which looked like shelters. These turned out to be restrooms.

Strangely, that’s where most of the dream focused: the bathrooms. I needed to use the restroom and spent my time dashing around, looking for one that was available. As I did, the Bob Seger song, “Shame on the Moon”, would play off and on. I mostly heard, “Oh, blame it on midnight.”

My friends found this hilarious. No one was in a uniform but people I worked with in the military were present, sitting in chairs in one section.

What I found as I searched for a restroom was that all of them were in use, and there were lines of others waiting.

I raced around, stunned at this problem, thinking, there must be a restroom I can use.

Thinking I found one, to my relief, I went in and discovered that it was set up as little barbershop. While I wondered, “WTH,” one of my friends called out with laughter, “Don’t even think about going there, Seidel.”

I flipped him the bird.

An announcement was made. Everyone was asked to take their seats. Miss Shirley Bassey was going to sing for the guest of honor.

I made my way across the grass toward a table.

Dream end.  

Heterofloofsia

Heterofloofsia (floofinition) – A diversity of voices, styles, or points of view among animals, especially housepets sharing a home. Origins: 1998, floofwideweb.

In Use: “A deer entered the yard, immediately drawing Cidies’ yowls of protests. In seconds, Karmen added his loud meows, and the beagles started singing, a heterofloofsia that brought Barb in from the other room, where she was trying to read.”

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.

The Encounter

Midnight.

I turn on the master bath lights and see a large spider in one of the porcelain sinks.

Finding a tube of cosmetics, I tried to give them a lift up and out.

The spider raced around in a slipping, sliding frenzy to escape the tube. “I’m trying to help you,” I reassured it.

Withdrawing, I found a small cloth and shaped a ramp in the sink. Recognizing the opening, the spider used it to climb up and out. Then it disappeared without even a backward glance or wave.

I wonder what she’ll tell others about her encounter with a human.

Friday’s Theme Music – Wild Life

Ashland, Oregon — Friday, April 17, 2026.

The clock is running; here we go.

It’s up to 44 from its overnight low of 32 F. Clouds and fog were graying the blue sky but now they’re gone. Unbridled sunshine lights up the green spring world. We’re heading for the upper sixties, they say.

Mom’s deadline is today. 30 days ago, she told the assisted living facility she was moving out. She then started searching for someone to ‘take her home’. It’s been a tug of war since. Today is quiet; no texts from Mom or sisters. I wait on pins and needles.

There’s breaking news — again.

Crude oil prices fell to $90 a barrel based on something Iran was said to agree to. The stock markets were quick to shout good news and go up, but then, that is its modern nature.

We won’t know what it means for a while. Higher oil prices are already embedded in our economic fabric. It will take a while to get it out.

Will the war be over? Will the US military forces leave that area? Depends on what Trump’s bones say.

Even if this war ends, what will happen next? What nation will Trump next attack?

Waiting to see when SOUTHCOM kills some more people in boats in the Pacific.

Still waiting to see what else is in the Epstein files.

Still waiting to see what’s really going on with Trump’s health and mind.

That brings me to “Wild Wild Life”, a 1986 song by Talking Heads.

I’d read a piece about Kavanagh saying, oh, based on Dobbs and original intent, the military draft could be illegal, because it’s not mentioned in the Constitution. That encourage me to scowl and mutter about cherry picking precedence and the dead hand of our founders — all white men — orchestrating our response to modern issues via conservatives who want to turn back the clock.

That all triggered Der Neurons to bring “Wild Wild Life” lyrics into the morning mental music stream.

Like sitting on pins and needles
Things fall apart
It’s scientific

Sleeping on the Interstate, oh-oh-oh
Getting wild, wild life
Checking in and checking out, oh-oh-oh
I got ’em, wild, wild life
Spending all of my money and time, oh-oh-oh
On too much wild, wild life
We wanna go and we go where we go, oh-oh-oh
Ah, doing wild, wild life

I know it, that’s how we start, oh-oh-oh
Got some wild, wild life

h/t to musixmatch.com

Hope your wild, wild, Friday is a safe, prosperous, peaceful one for you, maybe with a little celebration and libation. Have the best one you can make.

Coffee, please.

Cheers

The Short Game

“What do you want for dinner?” I asked.

My wife whipped her head around and glared at me. “I am going to kill you. Every day you come in here and ask that. Did you look to see what we have?”

“How ’bout we order Chinese food?”

Her eyes widened. “What about your sodium?”

I shrugged. “I’m not worried. My wife is going to kill me. I’m playing the short game.”

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