Tag: just goofing around

Fridaz Political Rant

I read about Trump bragging about his golf game, oh boy. That rekindled a lot of memories, like, many many memories.

Dizzy Donny Trump — Donny T, I called him — Donny T, he like that — Donny T and I used to golf together. Like, all the time. He was so impressed with my game. He told me many times, “Your swing is the best swing I’ve ever seen. Your swing is so beautiful. It’s the greatest swing I’ve ever seen and I’ve golfed many times with many many famous golfers, professional golfers, even. None of them swing as well as you.”

Beside my swing and my drive, my putting skills stunned into stupefied admiration. “My god,” he said after I sank a thirty-foot putt. “Do you ever miss?” That’s what stopped us from playing more. I was always beating him, and he finally told me, “You know what? I can’t take it any more. I’m not playing you anymore. That’s it. You’re just too good.”

I know what he means. I am that good. We used to talk about it a lot when we were flying around together. I used to fly him all over the place, lot of times cause he was meeting with his friend, Jeffrey. Dizzy T told me that I was the greatest pilot to ever fly him. I replied, “And can you believe it? I never even took a flying lesson. I signed up for them but once they started teaching, I kept correcting them because these experts didn’t know how nearly as much as I knew about flying. Once I showed them I could take off and land, they just gave me my pilot’s license.”

Trump was wide-eyed with envy. “I wish I was like that,” he said. “I would fly myself. I also am a remarkable pilot. I never took a lesson, either. I could just do it. Military pilots I fly with always tell me, you should have been a fighter pilot. You’re amazing. I know they’re right but I was too busy with other things, like winning the Nobel Peace Prize.”

I nodded. “I know. Same here.”

I haven’t seen Trump in years. He won’t even take my calls. Claims he doesn’t know me. Doesn’t remember me. That’s because his wife once told him that she wished that she’d married me instead of him. But that’s another story.

Don’t believe me? I don’t believe it. I don’t get it. Why not? I sound just like Trump. And as you know, he tells it like it is. He never lies. And neither do I.

I just write a little fiction.

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Wenzdaz Wandering Thoughts

The coffee shop will be closed on Thanksgiving Day. That’s the bottom line to this. To me, great. Be with family or friends or whatever works in your sphere.

No, my problem is in their poster announcing their closure. They say they’re closed Thanksgiving Day.

On November 26.

Umm, hello? That’s today. Tomorrow, Thursday, Thanksgiving, is November 27.

Being the anal fellow I am, The Neurons forced me to mention it to the staff. And yeah, as I told The Neurons, the staff knew. But they were okay, because they were emphasizing that they were closed on Thanksgiving, regardless of the date. Nobody else had mentioned the error, if it was noticed.

It’s okay. Last year, Thanksgiving was on the 28th. Next year, it should be on the 26th, and then the signs will be okay. The Neurons aren’t happy about it, but then again, they’re rarely happy.

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Twozdaz Wandering Thoughts

The coffee shop is pretty damn full.

I’m in RoCo. It’s my new favorite coffee place, an old house converted to a business on the corner of 8th Avenue and East Main Street.

Every table is in use. Many regulars are in attendance. Like me, at a table, computer open. My eyes and ears are open even as I read, think, and type. Wonderful community and social energies swirl through the room like a strong, happy breeze. I love the noise and action, enjoy looking up at the faces, glancing at the fashion.

Most clients are, ahem, ‘my age’. They look like, ahem, boomers, like me. I’ll be seventy next year. I think I’m in the middle of the age spectrum here. Sure, there are so younger outliers. Teenagers who look like they’re wearing colorful fleece pajamas come in as pairs, order, take their stuff and leave. A few twenty-somethings, thirtyish, and fortyish folks are partaking of drink and food, chatting with others, reading, so forth. Hoka shoes are spotted on many, the shoes of my people. Columbia sportwear and Patagonia dominates. They’re the clothes of my tribe, but this is Oregon, where some of that stuff is produced, and where Columbia is headquartered, up north, west of Portland. Two children, about ten, are also present with an older woman. The children are on ice cream on this chilly, foggy, autumn day. The weather doesn’t daunt them from enjoying a cold but sweet treat.

The baristas take orders, prepare, and serve, all laughing and chatting as they do. Regulars come in and get greeted by name, including Sugar the dog, who waves their tail in happiness and await their standard treat.

Sunshine has burst through outside. Cold air storms me as the doors open and close. This is the United States, Oregon, Ashlandia, in 2025.

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Satyrdaz Wandering Thoughts

“My name is Brenda,” I said, with a touch of happy humor.

My current coffee haunt is RoCo. The local Food Co-Op owns RoCo. Members of the co-op, we get a dividend back from the co-op at the year’s end. And guess what? All you need to do is give the RoCo barista your name and number. That’s what I was doing.

“Is Brenda your wife, Michael?” Kat asked.

“Yes.” I released a small scoff. “The funny thing is, she doesn’t go by Brenda. She uses a name that she made up a long time ago, so it always makes us laugh when we reveal our account name.”

Kat grinned through the entire tale. “I like that.”

It’s the small things which give us spirit, innit?

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Fridaz Wandering Thoughts

Mom and sis are coping and adjusting, per usual. Mom is an interesting case. When she’s doing well, she’s happy on her own. When she’s doing poorly, she gets crabby and wants visitors. But her crabbiness repels people, so they stay away. Not a good dynamic.

So many things must be tended for Mom. The emptying and cleaning of her house, of course, and then putting it on the market. Those are expected, straightforward, but work. The matters causing the most headaches and frustrations are these modern matters. Changing phone plans because Mom’s phone was on Frank’s plan. Canceling her internet and cable. Those things were done online, through passwords and account numbers and usernames and things like that. Mom has it written down but it’s all been changed so many times because they changed systems or the passwords expired, or it didn’t work for God knows why, as Mom would say.

Then there are the prescription drugs. Sam’s Club is Mom’s pharmacy. Frank was her delivery system. Now sis is her delivery system, but sis doesn’t have the time to make regular runs like Frank did. These things can be delivered but the co-pay must be paid for. Does Mom have a credit card on file? Yes, she does, she says, no, you don’t, the pharmacy replies. Back and forth they go, driving sis insane.

It all makes me think. Mom is but twenty years older than me, and the way my health is trending…LOL. I think, I must be better prepared. Sure, passwords are written down and secured but they must be found by whoever is taking care of me at that point.

Maybe it’ll be AI or a bot assisting me by that point. A Medibot. Watching AI and bots in action at this stage, though, I’m not reassured. Maybe, maybe, they’ll have it worked out in twenty years.

Time will tell. Always does, doesn’t it?

0

Twozdaz Wandering Thoughts

I thought EB was in love with me. She’s a very sweet small dog with wavy caramel and white fur. Her people say, “She’s a bit of every cattle dog you can think of.” I thought EB was in love with me because of the way she was staring up at me.

Her person said from beside me in the coffee shop, “I’m sorry, she has a staring problem.”

I laughed that off. What soon became apparent was that EB loves attention and people love to bestow it on her. Every other person going by stopped to pay an EB fee, loving on the small, sweet pup.

Then Sugar entered. Sugar is a ‘service dog’. Says so on her vest. She’s a coffee shop regular. The staff knows her and spoils her with treats.

Sugar and EB met nose to nose, tails going with enough propellor motion that take-off seemed imminent. After permitted to converse a bit, Sugar was led across the room with her people where she rested by a table.

Didn’t end there. Sugar and EB eyed one another across the floor with a quiet wistfulness, like teenagers longing to know one another. “Why are they keeping us apart?” their eyes asked.

Both eventually gave up, settling down to sleep under tables, part of the brisk and lively coffee shop scene.

Guess it was just another case of puppy love.

2

Sundaz Wandering Thoughts

A man and his companion sat down with their dogs on the coffee house porch. Both people had pastries which they sat down on the table. The dog immediately went for that.

“No, Curry,” the man said, lightly touching the dog. “Come on. Make good decisions.”

I laughed to myself. I bet the dog thought that going for the food was a good decision.

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Satyrdaz Wandering Thoughts

The honeymoon is over.

Sis is angry with Mom. Mom is angry with her. They are, as they have done for decades, growling at one another. Accusations sometimes come out about what’s going on. Sis thinks Mom is being obstinate. Mom thinks sis is being mean.

Growing experiences from the new living arrangements are certainly expected. Both are intelligent and know this. As with so many things, there are components of making these adjustments. It’s one thing to intellectually know something, yet something else to intellectually understand and accept it, and still requires some emotional and physical facets to adjust to make it all work. It’ll take time. Patience and anger will rise and fall like waves beating on the shore. The adjustments will be found.

I hope.

1

Fridaz Wandering Thoughts

Watching television, I saw a GEICO commercial. It featured their gecko spokescritter. A woman pulled back a book on a library shelf, and there was the gecko. What amused me was that the gecko had a little book in his hand. I asked my wife, “Where did the gecko get a little book? There aren’t any other little books on display in the library.”

Without skipping a beat, she replied, “They’re probably in the gecko section.”

That was so quick, I just cracked up in laughter.

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Thirstdaz Wandering Thoughts

We had to buy a birthday card for someone yesterday. I’d not bought a card for about two months. We tend to buy cards early so we have them on hand and buy a plethora of cards at once for birthdays coming up in the next several months. Anyway, in the time since I last shopped and now, our favorite local greeting cards purveyor, BiMart, had rearranged their greeting cards offering. Further they’d reduced them.

My wife said, “Where are all the other cards?” My wife is a greeting cards fan. When we go on vacation, she visits local stores for greeting cards. She walked around in shock, checking other aisles. “They’ve really cut back on the cards.”

I agreed. “Guess it’s a business decision.” I was mentally shrugging. This didn’t fit in as one of my pet peeves and I wasn’t overly bothered.

Then we started looking for a card for a female, celebrating her 70. She’s a friend…

“What have they done?” my wife said. “There are no friend cards.”

True, I saw. No friend cards. There was a small selection for LGBTQA+. Moms and sisters dominated. Grandmothers and aunts could be satisfied. Daughters. But friends? No. The greeting cards had become weirdly overspecialized, at least in this chain store.

“Guess we have to go to CVS,” my wife huffed. As we were walking out, though, she offered comments about it to an idle cashier, complaining about how much the cards had cut back and how overspecialized they’d become.

I’d walked on, waiting for her at the door. It just wasn’t one of my pet peeves.

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