Fridaz Wandering Thoughts

I was at Albertson’s. The people ahead — man, woman, and younger woman — were paying. Setting my items onto the belt, I spotted a tub of deli pasta salad and held it up. “Who does this belong to?”

Attention swiveled. “Whoops,” the man said, laughing.

In the same instant, the young, blond cashier cried out, “Oh, no, I made a mistake, I missed something!”

The woman fluttered a hand. “It’s not a problem. Don’t worry about it.”

The young woman gasped. “Oh, no, we can’t go without that!”

Amused as the error was fixed, I hid a private chuckle, entertained by the reactions.

We’ve all been there.

Being

Time races by

A flash of a second

A flutter of thought

The mess of a moment

Dreams flood in and fade away

Nothing seems to stay

For more than a day

Emotions arrive

In a moment’s wash

Soaking every other feeling

And thought

Debilitating and deepening, stealing thunder

Leaving us worked over

Tired

Feeling plundered

Thinking comes

Arriving from odd angles

Hooked by a word

A sound

A gaze at another

From all of it comes

Thoughts of life

Ways to improve

Methods to lesson our strife

So we go on our intelligent ways

Being

Coping

Seeing

Trying to look beyond the day

Witness

Through the year

We did stumble,

Doing weary chores

With a soft-voiced grumble.

Peeking through doors,

Working through days,

Of laughing, sighing,

And weary, changing ways.

Sometimes we shouted,

And sometimes shed tears,

Wondering how it would end,

This long, most miserable of years.

Now we sit

On another cusp,

Wondering,

What the next months

Will deliver to us?

We make promises and vow

To create changes that stay,

But will we be happier

Twelve months from this day?

Twozdaz Wandering Political Thoughts

In under-reported news, I discovered that Trump found Sasquatch. He posted a text about it, but the fake news didn’t cover it, probably because they hate him so much.

“It wasn’t hard to find him,” Trump wrote. “Turned out he’s a nice guy, a great guy. So smart, amazingly smart. We talked about thirty minutes. Then he told me, ‘Sir, you’re the first person I’ve ever encountered who just wanted to talk to me. I am so honored to meet you.’”

Trump said he later received a text from Sasquatch on Truth Social, inviting Trump to publicize the meeting. Trump wrote, “I told Footy – that’s what I call him, Footy, because some people call him Big Foot. He does have big feet, really big feet. I don’t call him Big Foot. Because that’s rude, that’s a rude thing to say, a terrible thing to say. So I call him Footy. I told Footy, you have an open invitation to visit me any time, anywhere, day or night. My door’s always open to you.”

Trump also visited Area 51 last week. Area 51 is a top secret military facility where all the aliens who have come to Earth are kept.

Trump reported that he met several aliens.

“Good looking little guys. All green, with big black eyes. Nice guys, great guys, so smart, amazingly smart. We talked about thirty minutes, me and three of them, four of them. They told me, ‘Sir, you’re the first person we’ve ever met who just wanted to talk to us. We are so honored to meet you.’ The aliens told me that they’ve been trying to go public, trying to get out of the secure area, but that Democrat scum wouldn’t let them out. I told them, ‘Don’t worry, little guys, I’ll get you out. I promise you, I’ll get you out. If anyone can get you out, it’s me. I’m better at getting people out than anyone in history. I’ve gotten more people out than anyone else ever has, huge numbers, huge. More numbers than you can imagine. It’s just amazing what I’ve been able to do.”

Continuing his amazing streak, Trump said that he went to Ireland and hunted down some Leprechauns.

In an interview, Trump said, “Good looking little guys. Dressed in green. Nice guys, great guys, so smart, so amazingly smart. We talked about thirty minutes, two, three of them, and me.

“They told me, ‘Sir, you’re the first person we’ve ever met who didn’t try to take our pot of gold.’ They had the pot of gold just sitting there. I noticed it, big, beautiful pot of shiny gold, most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I noticed it. How can I not notice something that beautiful? But it’s gold. I’m the wealthiest person in the world. You know that, right? I’m the wealthiest person in the world. First person in the world worth a gazillion dollars. That’s me. The first one. What do I need with more gold? I don’t. I already have most of the gold in the world. I have like 90, 99 percent of it. There’s a little bit I don’t have, but not much, not much. The Leprechauns told me, ‘Sir, go ahead and take our gold. We know you’ll put it to good use.’

“So I took it. I took their gold. Not because I need it but because they invited me to take it. Why shouldn’t I take it? Who wouldn’t take it? It’s not really that much gold. I already have more gold than I know what to do with. I’ve been melting it down, making things out of it. You should see the things I make. Beautiful stuff, beautiful. I show it to people when they visit. I show them all my beautiful gold things that I made. Pens and stuff. Shoes. Computer disks, whatever I see, coffee mugs, razors, stuff like that. Underwear. I’m wearing gold underwear now, did you know that? Gold speedos. Speedos made out of gold. So comfortable, amazingly comfortable. You should wear them. That’s why I walk the way I do. That’s why my posture is so good. My posture is perfect. You’ve probably noticed it. It’s perfect. It’s the gold underwear, the gold speedo. Of course, you have to have the right body to wear gold underwear. You can really only wear it right if you’re perfectly built, like me.

“I also make more practical things. Guns. Bullets. Knives. Golf clubs. I have so much gold, I don’t care. People tell me, ‘Sir, it’s amazing what you do with gold. You truly have the Midas touch. You should put this on display. People would pay to see it.’

“But I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to put that stuff on display. I’m too modest. If I wasn’t so modest, I’d probably get more credit for all the great things I’ve already done, and the great things I’m going to do. I’m not like Sleepy Joe Biden, always going around LYING ABOUT WHAT HE DID. That’s not me. That’s why I don’t get enough credit. That’s why I didn’t win the Nobel Peace Prize. Didn’t win the Pulzer Prize, either, what’s it called? The one they give for books? Yeah, the Pulzer. I should’ve won that, too. I’ve written so many amazing books. Beautiful books. I always put them under other people’s names. But they’re like, number one on all the lists. They’re the best-selling books of all times. But I don’t tell anyone that I wrote them. I just write them for fun. I don’t need the money. What do I need with more money? I’m the richest man in the world. Only person in the world worth ten bazillion dollars, did you know that? No, you don’t know that, because nobody gives me credit for how rich I am. That’s because they all hate me. I don’t know why. I think it’s because they’re so jealous of me because I’m so rich and successful. What do you think? Think that might be why they hate me?”

Satyrdaz Wandering Thoughts

While going to the coffee shop, I often pass a cemetery. Not surprising as Ashland has three.

This one is the original. Located just off East Main Street, it sits beside some of the town’s oldest neighborhoods, including the Railroad District.

I often glance at the cemetery while driving by, looking for deer. Deer often visit the cemetery, grazing and digesting between grave markers.

A few weeks ago, I noticed teenagers gathering in the cemetery. Once was a curiosity, twice was a surprise, three times is a trend. They did this for several weeks, regardless of sunshine, freezing fall, or rain and drizzle.

We’re not addressing a few teens; usually ten to eighteen gather, typically a few minutes after eleven AM. I wonder, what’s going on there, and at what grave are they gathering?

Here’s the kicker, though. School is out for the winter break. The children are not gathering. Instead, that same gravestone was host to five deer. I kid you not.

I really need to stop by and see the name on that grave.

Wenzdaz Wandering Thoughts

I was deep into a writing day at the coffee shop when I happened to look up. Across the room was a young girl—maybe six. In her hand was a huge chocolate croissant. I swear the pastry was as large as her head. She kept attacking it with her tiny mouth, trying again and again to make inroads into the dough.

As I smiled to myself and glanced around, I noticed others doing the same. We all seemed to feel it: the quiet pleasure of witnessing a sweet moment—a sweetie going after a sweet.

Twas the Day Before Tomorrow

Twas the day before tomorrow

And all through the land,

Was a man on television,

A person who many couldn’t stand.

Blustery and yelling,

Threatening to be harsh and mean,

Much of what he said made no sense

To those watching the scene.

“Affordability is a hoax,”

He shouted again and again.

“You just watch me, I’ll make it end.

“I inherited the worse job in the land.

“But it’s getting better,

“Just close your eyes and pretend.

“Start buying less of what you want,

“Prices will go down,

“Ten thousand percent, twenty thousand,

“So much! It’ll astound!

“You’ll be much happier

“With one room instead of three,

“If you work harder,

“Eat less eggs and meat,

“Play with less dolls,

“And watch less Teevee.

“You’d better be peaceful,”

He added in a rising voice,

“Or I’ll bomb you all

“Because you give me no choice.”

He finished up with a scowl and a smirk,

And stumbled away with a twitch and a jerk.

Then we read his holiday texts as day went into night,

“I’m the best ever.

“Give up! Don’t fight!”             

The Writing Moment

I was in the coffee shop, writing the current novel in progress. In fact, I was writing the newest ending to it. This one was not an ending which I’d envisioned, although it was a path that veered from that planned ending.

As I typed, one of my coffee-shop writing friends came by. “I can see you’re deep into it,” she said. “You have the writer face going.”

She and I laughed and she went on. In truth, I was ready for a break because writing butt was settling in. One cheek felt numb and the other was sore.

But you probably know how it is. There was more to write. Hungry, thirsty, pressed for time, I kept going, writing like crazy till I finally took a breath, sat back, and said, “Done.”

We’ll see if I’m done, of course. If the novel is done. Finished.

We’ll see.

Mundaz Wandering Thoughts

“Hello, you old geezer.”

That was my opening to Dad when I phoned him today. My opening was part of a routine we’ve been doing for five decades, except I used to refer to him as ‘old man’. In a previous call, I’d explained to him that he’d graduated from being an old man to being an old geezer.

Dad responded as expected. “Boy,” the nonagenarian said. “I can still kick your butt.”

I laughed. “Sure, if I hold your cane for you and keep your oxygen on hand.”

He laughed. “Yeah, that’s true.”

Lots of laughter and teasing followed. It was a good conversation.

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