Head down, I’m bulling through the story, editing to find the thread and resume my novel writing. I look up to see a man watching me. He delivers a sharp head nod. “Hello.”
I nod back. Smile.
He says, “You were on our flight last night.” He nods toward a blonde woman. Yes, I do recognize them now that they’ve revealed themselves.
“Yes,” I answer, trying to come into the moment.
They’re dressed in costumes. He is a plug. She’s a double outlet. I love it. They wish me happy Halloween and leave.
Then, ’bout an hour later…in come another man and woman.
“Hi,” she says, smiling, nodding. “You were on our flight last night.”
Shivers of deja vu had their way with me. It feels weird to be recognized and remembered like that, twice. I keep thinking, what did I do that made others notice? Drooling while I slept?
Good morning, Earthlings. Frida has slipped through the cracks of reality to reach us again. It’s October’s last day for 2025. 49 F, we expect to top out at 62 F. Fog is cozying up around us. Our golden-leafed trees stand out like bright lanterns.
We reached home this morning at 1 AM, this time zone. We turned up the hot water heater and unpacked. My wife then took a hot bath. The two of us were in bed by 3 AM. Travel was great, both going and coming. All flights on schedule, everything on the aircraft worked for us, and the seats were awesomely comfortable. Major shoutout to the unpaid air traffic controllers and TSA who kept it all going. Another shout out to Delta. Special mentions go to the anonymous, friendly but professional and courteous young Pittsburgh TSA agent and our Pittsburgh to Salt Lake City Delta flight attendant.
My gallbladder played nice during the travels and visit. Just finished with the pre-op nurse about what to do before my surgery on Tuesday. Must call Dad today. His birthday was yesterday but I didn’t wish to call him while traveling. He was aware of that, as we’d spoken the week before.
Sister interviewed another realtor to sell Mom’s house yesterday. Also picked up Mom’s prescriptions from Sam’s Club. While there, she told the rep about Frank. He was known there and wherever Frank was known, he was enjoyed and appreciated for being friendly, easy-going, and happy. Sis updated all the records. She reports that Mom had a good day yesterday. Was very sharp. Managed to call the bank and curtail the automatic Verizon payment that was vexing us. Of course, being mentally sharp meant she was also challenging about who was in charge. Mom and sis have a contentious relationship. Dueling pistols across the room aren’t yet ruled out.
I dreamed last night that I was looking up into a yellow sky. Swirling clouds gathered and came to me like cats expecting a treat. Craning my head back and gazing into the clouds, I heard a voice tell me that the yellow sky would give me power. In honor of that, The Neurons had to come up with a song featuring yellow. Three jumped into the morning mental music stream: “Yellow” by Coldplay, a Beatles offering called “Yellow Submarine”, and that one about tying a yellow ribbon on a tree by Tony Orlando and Dawn. I mocked their efforts. They responded with “Mellow Yellow” by Donovan. That’ll play, I decided.
Our shuttle driver last night brought us up to date on the Ashland weather and major events on our ride home. She talked about the unseasonably wet but warm October we had. She added, “But let’s not talk about climate change, right? Don’t want a goon squad ambushing us for saying something the White House idiot doesn’t like.” ‘Bout sums up Trump’s second term, doesn’t it?
We’re on, what day gazillion and ten of Trump’s Epstein Shutdown of 2025. Democrats are trying to address issues and concerns. Speaker Johnson (R-Hell) refuses to, basically mocking We the People by asking, “What’s the point?” It’s all or nothing for them. Meanwhile, maybe from getting antsy over becoming unpopular, Trump suggested that Republicans nix the filibuster and just move ahead on their own. You know, ignore over half of the nation. Do what they want and move further toward an authoritarian one-party rule. Republicans quickly pushed back against that…for now. But TACO will probably start pulling out the blackmail stuff he has on them. Then they’ll suddenly be all for it. Just as we saw Senator Hawley crow about one thing in op-ed pieces and then turn around and do the crap that he just warned against doing because Trump wanted it. Just as we’ve seen so many in the past flip from calling Trump unworthy of being office to singing his praises. Guys like Marco Rubio, Ted Cruz, and Lindsay Graham. Let’s not overlook Veep JD Vance, who compared Trump to Hitler.
WASHINGTON (AP) — Mitch McConnell said after the 2020 election that then-President Donald Trump was “stupid as well as being ill-tempered,” a “despicable human being” and a “narcissist,” according to excerpts from a new biography of the Senate Republican leader that will be released this month.
Stupid. Ill-tempered. Despicable. Narcissist. That’s just the exposed part of Trump. Like an iceberg, there’s much, much, much GRRRRR-inspiring stuff about Trump under the surface. That’s why we still want all of the Epstein Files brought out. We want to see what that Smirker-in-Chief was doing with his buddy, Jeffrey Epstein.
Here’s a little floof humor for your October 31 amusement. Papi heard me play this and hurried in, looking around with that suspicious, ‘what’s-going-on’ gaze that floofs sometimes sport.
Hope peace and grace climb free of wherever they’re hunkered down and reprise their impact on our life. Till then, stay strong. Cheers
They’ll make you laugh, make you sigh, piss you off, and make you cry. It’s a crazy world in the United States. Here are my favorite thought and anger-provoking ‘toons from the latest collection, the Queen of ‘Toons herself, Jill Dennison’s. Check out the rest at her blog and find your own faves.
It’s Twozda, October 28, 2025, in Monroeville. My hotel windows face the north. Long fingers of early morning sunshine stretch out of blue skies and blow up the leaves’ autumn colors into fiery hues. It’s 41 F now. They’re pitching a high of 55 F. Rain is on the way for Thirstda, when we leave.
Mom’s hospital visit yesterday revealed no new problems. No breaks from her falls. No head damage, etc. She’s back with sis at sis’s house. They gave her morphine yesterday and she was confused today. Two big items are loaded for the Mom agenda today. Sis and I will meet with a realtor at Mom’s house to talk about putting it on the market. We also need to find the right size adult night time diapers for Mom. She leaks all night long. Wears diapers but they’re too big. Sis has mats on the bed but the leaking is so pervasive that her sheets end up soaked, necessitating taking off the bedding and washing it. I picked up more bedding yesterday so that the wash can be spaced out a few days. But new diapers are needed. I checked local big box stores for a new solution yesterday but nada was had. It’s diapers with pulls, not undies, needed.
Trump’s continued takedown of the United States inspired The Neurons with “Then the Morning Come” in the morning mental music stream. I was thinking that someday it will be morning in America after Trump is done. Then there will be a general, confused awakening. The GOP will realize the party’s over and go off to nurse their hangovers while the rest of us rebuild. So this Smashmouth song feels right for what’s happening now and what will happen when people visit the future building formerly known as the White House and ask, “OMG, WTF happened?” Many of them will proclaim, “I didn’t know. I had no idea.” Which will just earn them the greatest imaginable contempt from me. For how could you not know unless you’re burying your head and pretending, all is well, this is gonna be great? Yeah, I know, it doesn’t render that easily. Much more complicated, so Trump supporters tell me. Sure.
Paint the town, take a bow Thank everybody You’re gonna do it again You are the few, the proud You are the antibody Mind, soul and zen
And the world’s a stage (And the world’s a faze) And the end is near So push rewind, just in time Thank anybody You’re gonna do it again
The way that you walk It’s just the way that you talk Like it ain’t no thing And every single day is just a fling Then the morning comes
Take your knocks, shake ’em off Duck everybody You’re gonna take ’em again You are your foe, your friend You are the paparazzi You are the tragedian
And the world’s a craze (And the world’s a faze) And the end is near So push rewind, just in time Thank anybody You’re gonna do it again
The way that you walk It’s just the way that you talk Like it ain’t no thing And every single day is just a fling
And when it comes, it moves so slow Kind of like it’s saying, “I told you so” Looking back before she goes Tomorrow’s gonna hurt
And the world’s a stage (And the world’s a faze) And the end is near So push rewind, just in time Thank anybody
It’s just the way that you walk It’s just the way that you talk Like it ain’t no thing And every single day is just a fling Then the morning comes
Off to do a little local sightseeing and shopping. Fingers crossed that peace and grace awaken from their slumber and come give us some relief. Till then, hang tight. Cheers
Just a reminder of what Saint Ronnie said…not that it matters to the MAGAlodytes. History is not their forte. Nor is critical thinking or bucking their beloved Trump, he who speaks from his ass, but says what they want to hear.
Meanwhile, back where the GOP controls the House, Senate, and the building formerly known as the White House, Trump shows his contempt and hatred for the United States and its citizens.
Sure, why not let Americans starve? There’d be less of ’em to grift, sure, but less of them to feed, less of them to criticize Trump, less of them to complain. Plus, with less ‘Muricans out there, simple supply and demand kicks in. Less people = less demand = less inflationary pressures = lower prices = happier people. That’s Trump’s ‘thinking’. All will be happy except those mourning the dead and those with the thinking set to see where all that will lead. Trump never did get the whole empathy and love thing. Never will. “Me, me, me,” is all he ever thinks and says. Which means he’ll screw We the People and the Constitution every time.
Trump really is a radical rightwing despot. So deranged. So radical and VERY LOW IQ. He proves it with his tweets on a regular basis. People read his tweets and ask, “How can this man walk and breathe at the same time? His IQ is too low to walk and breathe at the same time.” If it wasn’t for Putin, Trump would’ve already been imprisoned for his crimes against the United States. Should have happened after his first term. But Putin intervened and said, “No, he is a useful fool. Do what we can to get him re-elected so we can use his hatred of the United States so we can destroy it as an economic powerhouse and democracy once and for all.”
Trump doesn’t understand math. Third grade arithmetic. History. Science. Medicine. Sports. Cheats at everything. Everything. When he took the cognitive test, he paid people off to help him identify the animals. They were cheaply paid off, of course. Took just the promise of money. They’ll never see that money. He always breaks all of his promises.
That’s the Trump bottom line. Terrible person. Breaks everything. Breaking the nation. Destroying the White House. Cratering the economy.
But at least ‘the left’ is upset. So MAGAland is happy.
October 27, 2025, has ambushed us, lowering another Munda on us with a soft sigh. Autumn weather is rampant in Monroeville. Blue sky, turning leaves, sunshine. 47 F, upper 50s will join us presently. I spoke with another elevator passenger after I came in from a walk. “Beautiful day outside.” “Yes,” he answered, “I love this time of year.” He got off the elevator, leaving me to finish to myself, I love it, too, but one morning I’ll awaken out of love with it.
Trump delivered another miracle announcement about how awesome and fantastic he is. This was about his MRI. “Best one they’ve ever seen,” he loudly cried. The he hurried to the place formerly known as the White House to put it on the refrigerator with his finger paintings so everyone can ah over it. Thing is, you don’t put ‘im in an MRI unless there’s a medical concern, right?
Mom’s bash was a celebration done right yesterday. A tiara announcing 90. A pink sash proclaiming, ’90 & Fabulous’. I’d picked up her pink party smock and her silver shoes, and that’s what she was wearing. Good food, twenty-four people representing the generations, happy time. But today, there she was, 7:58 AM, going to the hospital. She’d fallen. Sis wanted her checked out. Mom, a retired nurse, refused. Now, suddenly, yes, she needed to go to the hospital, Mom decided. So off they went. I slept through the text telling me this. Now I’m heading over there. Sad, as Mom was happy, alert, present, all that, yesterday. Ate well, etc. Now, here we go. Hopefully, it’s not a spiral into another prolonged health battle.
Recalling the party, though, The Neurons supplied me with “Shiny Happy People” by R.E.M. in the morning mental music stream.
Hope peace and grace get up and out of bed and come visit soon. Have the best you can in the meantime. Cheers
So our hotel change is completed… This new room, a Hampton Inn, is very quiet and comfy.
Breakfast has been et. Sorry to note that Monroeville’s businesses are going through an enshittification but that’s another blog post.
It’s Satyrda, 10/25/2025. Sunny and pretty autumn Pittsburgh day, temperatures rolling in the mid 50s. Nice pigskin weather. Sis tells me Mom is up and awake and doing well. Sis is cleaning house. My wife and I will now run some errands and bolt toward sis’s house for a day of visiting. Our visit with Mom yesterday was entertaining. She’s decline since the last I saw her, two years ago. Has fallen several times in the past week. Sis says Mom’s right hip and thigh are all black and blue from hitting the floor. Mom’s new home arrangement is in flux at my sister’s house, but it’s a cozy setup, and Mom is as tight with cozy as crossed fingers.
Today’s music is “Run Through the Jungle”. CCR. The Neurons brought it forth as I resuscitated my Pittsburgh driving skills and kept it in the morning mental music stream. Only The Neurons were singing “Drive Through the Jungle”.
Gotta go chase some peace and grace down and try to entice it to out itself to us and hang. Meanwhile, let’s do the best possible for ourselves. Cheers
Six AM Thirstda was approaching. We were flying north.
I told my wife, “I’m closing my eyes for a minute.” The Neurons piggybacked into the morning mental music stream with “Dream Weaver” but it didn’t keep.
Neither did keeping my eyes closed. I read for a while, drank coffee, ate the cookies the airline provided.
Funny, getting those cookies. Hundreds of dollars were paid for these seats. This attendant comes along and bends down with a tray and asks, like we’re children, “Would you like a cookie?”
Oh, yes, please!
Descent into SeaTac was been announced. The eastern sky faced me. Molten orange was knifing through the space between a dark stiletto of clouds and the horizon. Then, left – north – a white slice hooked my vision.
Shooting star!
I probably felt the same excitement distant forerunners felt when they looked into a dark sky and saw that quick slash of silvery light. Euphoria jumped me. I felt, yeah, that’s a good sign. A good omen.
Breaking away from writing, I step out for a walk. The sun has warmed us to a comfortable level. I stride along, nodding and saying hello to others encountered.
A shineless brown hot rod comes along. Roadster. Something out of the forties. Driven by a man who looks like he also originated in the forties, and a woman who might be a little younger, maybe even his daughter, as a passenger, bundled up in heavy clothes.
Putting along at 20 MPH, he guides the car to the side and waves a following vehicle past. Silver SUV, its twenty something driver gooses it faster. An electric vehicle, it glides by with a rising brash hum.
The scene on a small-town street seems so perfectly emblematic of change. Trees and their colors tell of the season changing around us, and there goes an old internal combustion car of a kind rarely seen, passed by an electric car, of the kind now commonly encountered.
Thinking about my travel packing this morning. Long ago, I developed a habit of packing my toilet bag a few days before I leave. Then I use my toiletries from it as though I’m in a hotel room. In that way, I sometimes realize something was overlooked, and I’m not rushing through packing it at a later time. This is all my own in that I’ve never read about it, subject to memory limitations. I’ve never mentioned it to others till now, either. Wouldn’t surprise me to learn that others do the same.
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