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
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.
Another Wenzda has shifted in. It’s October 22, 2025. We’re getting into October’s last legs. Trees are still lively with colors. That huge old oak across the street hasn’t begun shedding yet. When it does, a blizzard of gold will fall to the winds. Meanwhile, seeing its high golden leaves up against the sky’s purest blue refreshes me, and adds depths to my contemplation of what in the world is going on. Now 46 F with the heater on in the house, sunshine, a front, and clear sky will help Ashlandia breach the low seventies today.
Mosquitoes found in Iceland for the first time, says a headline. Well, surely that’s a one off. They just had some record heat. The story says that Iceland and Antarctica were the only places without skeeters. Now there’s just the southern ice cap. I hear it’s been warming and shrinking, so set your calendars. I evaded stories about bomb threats, cars ramming buildings, and other signs of increasing unrest and violence in the U.S. With familiar weariness, I read about Trump rambling through another nonsensical conversation and temper my rage that this is accepted as okay by GOP senators and his donors and minions. I slipped past war updates from Ukraine and edged around the shooting involving a marshal, ICE, and another person, who was supposed to be ‘an immigrant’. Some flirting was done with the tale of the AWS outage that crashed parts of the web over the last several days. My heart and mind were wary of delving into those stories without coffee’s strength first.
The packing for our trip is done. Papi’s minder moves in tomorrow morning. I will miss my furry orange friend. A taxi will whisk us away like refugees in the night. Fingers crossed, etc., by this time tomorrow we’ll be aloft in one of aerospace machines, heading east for Mom’s birthday, seeing family, etc. Sis sent photos of Mom’s new lair. She included the little electric fake fireplace Mom had in her living room. Mom and Frank bought it an estate sale and were so happy with it. I know Mom will find comfort in having it on, warming the air and her heart.
Dad’s birthday is next week. Day after Mom’s, the day before Mom’s late brother, a few weeks after my late mother-in-law, and a week after my brother-in-law. Anyway, I wrote Dad a letter this morning, thanking him for what he’s done for me, telling him how much I enjoy our telephone conversations and laughing with him, etc. Afterward, The Neurons felt it appropriate to insert Dido’s song, “Thank You”, in the morning mental music stream. So here we go.
May peace and grace find their way back to us. Many wonder if they still exist. I believe it’s still being cultivated in many places where protections are in place to keep it from being smashed. Till then, roll on. Cheers
Cold and shiny Twozda Morning in October. This is 10/23/2025. 46 F in Ashland, the temperature will frolic into the low 70s with the sun’s herding. Fall’s grasp is as firm as ever, with leaves decomposing and dropping while others hang, shimmering in reds and golds.
Sis has moved Mom into her house because of Mom’s repeated falls and inability to care for herself. No one is there to help her at her house, etc. Sis meets with a real estate agent next Tuesday to pull the levers to sell Mom’s house. An estate sale is being established to sell Mom’s furniture and belongings. Not excited to return to this state, and you know what I mean. This is life. But I’m looking forward to seeing family and being in the area of my youth.
In one of Trump’s continuing rampages to show how much he hates the United States, he’s now having the physical building called the White House destroyed. As it was put in a comment on another site, I am volcanically pissed. Breathtaking arrogance. If anything proves that Trump has no sense of history and gives not a jot of shit about anything except himself, this is it. Destroying the house of We the People and replacing it with his own gaudy, cheap imitation of grandeur is disgusting and infuriating. Project 2025 is certainly well pleased and gleeful. Roberts Court is probably shrugging. They let him trample the Constitution with his overweight ego and obese body, why not allow this effrontery? Sure hope all those MAGA are happy too. Isn’t this how love for your nation is shown, by tearing down its heritage?
Approval for him falls. Disapproval for him rises. Strength to stand against him and his regime increases.
A Daily Kos post by Michael Taylor offers solid insights into the Trump Regime’s war against the United States.
Let’s talk about a magic trick. Not the kind with rabbits and hats, but the political kind, where a complex idea is made to vanish, only to be replaced by a simple, monstrous caricature. The latest magicians? Pam Bondi, U.S. Attorney General, and the broader Trump administration, who are attempting to pull off the dangerous illusion of criminalising ANTIFA.
The premise of their act is that ANTIFA is a unified, hierarchical terrorist organisation– a domestic version of ISIS – that can be neatly listed, proscribed, and its members prosecuted. This is a profound and likely deliberate misunderstanding. ANTIFA, short for “anti-fascist,” is not an organisation; it is a political belief and a movement, no more a single entity than “conservatism” or “environmentalism.”
Under cover of criminalizing a concept and calling it an organization, the Trump Regime can attempt to use all of the government’s military and police forces against United States citizens, weakly rationalizing it as part of their fight against ‘antifa’. As Taylor closes:
The real danger isn’t a black-clad protester breaking a window; it’s a government that seeks to break the foundational principle that in America, people are free to believe, and to protest, what they see fit.
Meanwhile, the Epstein Shutdown has moved into its third week, earning Trump’sthird government shutdown in five years of ‘leadership’ as the third longest U.S. government shutdown in history.
Without too much surprise, Trump’s Gaza ceasefire is as successful as Trump University, Trump Steaks, various Trump casinos and hotels, and Trump Air. Trump is a magical enshittifier.
I have The Moody Blues performing “The Story in your Eyes” in the morning mental music stream. Between conversations with Papi as I explain we’ll be going away but his favorite house sitter will be here, and thoughts of Trump’s destruction, and, well, changes in life in general, Les Neurons responded with lines out of the song.
Listen to the tide slowly turning. Wash all our heartaches away. We’re part of the fire that is burning, and from the ashes we can build another day.
May grace and peace get up and going and come around to see how we’re doing. Coffee is making itself familiar to the various body functions. Time to rock it. Time to roll it. Until the next, cheers from Trump and his smirking BFF, Jeffrey Epstein.
Munda, October 20, 2025, has set upon us. 36 F, a clear deep blue sky crowns the valley. With solar influences working through this clear air, 71 F is the hoped-for high.
Bad news from home. Sis reports that she let Mom sleep in this AM. Yesterday, she went over at 11 AM and Mom was still asleep, so, she worked off that. When she reached Mom by phone, Mom said she’d fallen two more times. Mom said she just stayed on the floor and slept there. Sis headed over to see if Mom needed to head to the hospital. That’s at least Mom’s fourth fall Mom reported on herself since last Friday. Not a reassuring trend.
The Epstein Shutdown is creeping toward its third week.
Trump and the GOP shrug. Moderate Dems are unfortunately leaning toward ‘working’ with the GOP to pass something. They have not, apparently, had their FAFO moment with the Trump Regime.
I began pulling up news to see the latest Trump Destruction Machine’s moves. Instead, I came across the graphic below and thought, that’s the way to go.
I will say that many MAGAs and conservatives commenting about the No Kings rally are trying hard to pretend it was very small. Meaningless. They insist Trump is very popular. Also, he’s not doing anything wrong. It’s a familiar scene. We know that people often remain oblivious or accepting until there’s a FAFO moment for them.
I was not surprised that the TACO Regime announced they were ‘investigating’ the No Kings rally. Shows their worries and fears’ depths. Think they can manipulate us into submission via fear and intimidation. They think that Democrats, liberals, and progressives are as easily manipulated as that MAGA base and the Fox fed GOP.
Music choices are swirling in the morning mental music stream. Several music-related celebrity deaths were announced, alongside former NFL and college football players. One of them was Jack White, a producer. He produced Laura Branigan’s cover of “Gloria”. The Neurons are fond of the song, so that won a residency in the morning mental music stream and another turn as theme music. Alas, we lost Laura B way back in 2004.
Time to rock on. Coffee is starting to rock me awake. Yes, I’ve been sleep typing. Hope peace and grace come out of seclusion to give us a sign that they’re still alive and well. Cheers
Frank passed away, so I’m remembering Frank. 95, he and Mom were together for his life’s last twenty years plus. Which, as I think about it, causes me to realize that Frank was about five years older than my present age when he and Mom met. My youngest sister, Lisa, was the agent of their coming together. Mom was dating another, Ed, at the time. Lisa worked in a bank. She regularly saw Frank and decided that Frank and Mom were a good match. When she suggested it to Frank, he asked, “Is she pretty?” Lisa beamed and gave a knowing nod. “Yep.”
Lisa was right. Mom and Frank hit it right off. All was a lot of fun for years. Biking, walking, movies, tennis, dancing, estate sales. They had a good life before Mom’s accidents, health, and drugs crippled things. I’m happy they had those years together.
When my wife and I talked about it, she marveled about old people dating. “People our age,” she exclaimed as we both laughed. She went on, “I’m like that song. I’m not ready to get naked in front of another.”
We spoke more seriously about friends and relatives our age and older dating. Ron, 78, lost his wife ten years ago to breast cancer. He’s had a regular girlfriend for three years. Now he’s dating another woman and they’re having fun. Sis-in-law, coming up on 70, has a regular boyfriend, her third since her husband died of brain cancer about five years ago (I think). Then there’s Barb, 81 this Feb, dating a guy who is her age. Both had preferred younger people and would hook up with someone for a few months and then move on. Now, months into this relationship, Barb professes that she’s in love. Sweet and beautiful.
So, there’s hope, if you put yourself out there. As Frank and Mom did. Hell, as Dad did. Now at 92, he’s on his third marriage. It’s lasted over thirty years, the longest marriage of his life, and he seems happy and contented.
Sunda. October 19, 2025. Rain hissed on the roof. The house heater added a rush of air. 49 F, rain is expected all day, with a temperature that peaks at 61 F. Fog has sunk its teeth into the surrounding mountains. Leafy golds, yellows, oranges, and reds glow. Papi galloped in, threw himself down and vigorously applied his tongue to his orange fur to rid himself of that accursed wet. Then it was on to food, nom nom nom.
The No Kings II protest went well. We made it an hour late. Finding parking was a Lewis & Clark expedition. Was great being out there yesterday with other protestors, waving our signs, protesting the GOP eagerness to let Trump be king, protesting Trump’s arrogance that he should be king, protesting the general shit show Trump, Project 2025, and the GOP are putting on. Felt good to know others like us are out there, and they’re standing up. Even more satisfying and validating were the cars going by, horns blowing, giving us thumbs up, holding up peace signs, shouting, “Right on.” Only heard one “Fuck you,” and one “Sieg heil.” The latter came from a woman. Both of these disapprovers were in huge pickemups.
My greatest disappointment was that most of the protesters were old folks like us. The young were in short supply. My wife reminded me that they probably have to work and to cut them some slack. Anyway, thinking about the young provoked The Neurons to bring up a Eurythmics song, “All the Young (People of Today)”. Came out in 1981. Odd vibe to it. I thought, wow, that’s a weird one to come up with. I know it from listening to Euythmics CDs. Don’t think any radio station ever sent it to my ears.
Mom’s new habitat enclosure at sis’s house is getting developed fast. Small dorm frig has been added. A microwave. Hope Mom will be happy there, along with warm and safe. There was a whole late-night misadventure on Friday night. Mom thought she heard someone trying to get into her house and knocking on the door, calling her name. She was there alone. Hiding in her bathroom, she texted her daughters and grandchildren to call the police for her. Why she didn’t do that for herself is one aspect of the mystery. As it was after midnight, most were asleep or away from their phones. Mom’s texts went unnoticed until a grandson, Michael, saw it. Then 911 was called, etc. Police showed up, knocking on Mom’s front door. She wouldn’t answer. She was hiding in the bathroom. The police reported deer were on the small stoop outside of Mom’s room, eating off a tree by the house. 911 had to call my sister, who called Mom to tell her what was going on.
Coffee is singing to The Neurons once again. The day has grown brighter. The temperature has climbed to 50 and if you lean forward and squint at just the right angle, there’s a small blue patch struggling to break out of the cloud eggs containing it. Which reminds me. Hope peace and grace break out of their shells soon and bless us with some visiting. Here we go, on into another day, another week, another…well, you know. Cheers
It’s Satyrda, Oct 18, 2025, also known as No Kings II. This is a day when We the People come together to remind Trump, Project 2025, the GOP, and the rest of the world that the United States rejected kings ruling them twice before, in 1776, and then again when the idea was floated before G. Washington. We didn’t want kings then; we don’t want them in 2025.
My spouse and I spent time last night constructing our signs and finalizing our plans. This morning, my wife came to me. “I screwed up,” she said. “My doctor appointment isn’t 1:30, it’s 11:30.”
Oh. That changed things. Originally, we would hit the rally from 11 to 1, leave at 1 and go to her appointment. Now we’ll go to her appointment and then head to the rally when it’s over.
It’s a brisk fall morning out there. Plentyo sunshine, clear, blue sky, but just 39 F at our place. 75 F will be ours before the night pulls in.
For the record, the Epstein Shutdown continues along on cruise control. Republicans are mostly content to let things slide and refuse to fix healthcare issues for millions of Americans. That’s just how they roll.
Today’s song comes from a convo with my wife last night. I was doing a load of delicates. Did she want to put anything in? Sure. She zipped around doing her collection, then came to me and said, “I can’t find my sports bra.” I found it in the laundry basket. She’d just overlooked it. But meanwhile, The Neurons projected a song variation in my head. They had me singing, “Looking for my bra in all the wrong places,” to the tune of “Lookin’ for Love”. “Lookin’ for Love” by Johnny Lee was a 1980 hit associated with the movie, Urban Cowboy. We were livin’ in San Antonio, Texas, at the time, and you could not escape the song. Anyway, The Neurons kept it going in the morning mental music stream. That’s how it came to be here.
Coffee is flirting with The Neurons. Time to get up and at them. Hope grace and peace find us all today and maybe stick around long enough for us to get to know them. Hope to see you at the protests. Cheers
I’ve been sitting here, stewing and worrying about Mom.
I should have known better.
Backstory to this, Mom’s live-in boyfriend died this week after an accident. Mom has been experiencing multiple health issues, going back more than twenty years. Frank’s death and Mom’s health issues were both marked with a fall down the same set of steps. I worried about that happening for years and kept warning them. Now it’s taken Frank.
Frank’s passing is a big shock to Mom’s way of life. Frank still drove his car, although it could be terrifying at times. He was 95 and almost blind in one eye, so there were some “Yikes!” moments. Well, many “Yikes!” moments. But he shopped for Mom, took her to her appointments, picked up her prescriptions, helped her dress and clean, and so many other things that a spouse does for their other. He also contributed to paying her bills. With Frank gone, who was going to do these things for Mom?
Little sis, the powerhouse of the family, sent me a text today that she’s been busy getting ready for Mom to move.
Turns out, even before Frank passed away, sis suggested to Mom that Mom live with sis in her house. Sis has a full house already. Her youngest daughter and boyfriend live with her. So does her hubby. But sis has a finished half basement which they’d set up as an exercise space and lounge. It has its own bathroom. Now sis is cleaning it up and setting it up as Mom’s new permanent residence. The floor is level so she can wheel around with no problem. There’s a refrigerator down there. The aforementioned bathroom. It’s connected to the garage so she can roll right out to the car as needed.
As sis puts it, Mom could also go upstairs with some help, so she can participate in things. Mom will be contributing to electricity, sewer, and water to help defray the increased costs.
Sis has cleaned out Mom’s kitchen cupboards already. She found a can of cocoa in there that she says might have been from a time before manufacturers were required to put expiration dates on cans.
It is so good to have such a capable and energetic little sister. Gotta love her.
So we come to Frida. Frida’s here at last. However you might feel about it, the day is sure to pass. Might go slow, might be low, or it could be blindingly quick. Whatever happens on this day, there could be some that make you sick. But if you persevere and get through again, you might come away with a win. So try a smile on your face, then set your pace, better yet, make it a grin.
Yep, it’s Frida, October 17, 2025. 45 F in Ashlandia around my home, we’re learning toward an upper sixties high. 70 F might be found for some. Depends on the winds and the air, the clouds and the sun. As of now, sunshine is dashing off the huge old oak’s golden leaves across the street, startling brilliant against an unmarked blue sky.
Awoke from a solid night of zee and some startling, vivid dreams, and arose in a spirited mood. Thinking about the past, present, and future, The Neurons gifted me with a Bryan Adams song which captures my Frida energy. They projected “Summer of 69” into my morning mental music stream, offering a rocking early morning. Feel free to look back and sing along, if you’re old enough to look back, and know the words, ‘course.
Coffee is plowing the body with its offering. Hope grace and peace climbs out of the shadows and leaps forward to help us all as we launch into the No Kings protests this weekend. Just for the record, the Ashland No Kings II rally doesn’t have permits, but many are planning to be there to exercise their rights.
Michael Seidel, writer 