Tag: life

Thirstdaz Theme Music

It looks like we might have some fog today in Foglandia. It’s Thirstda, December 11, 2025. The fog landed on us yesterday morning and has not abated. My friend came out of meeting last night and said, “Wow, this is Jack the Ripper kind of fog.” Our forecast for today, given yesterday morning, promised sunshine and a possible record high in the low to mid-sixties. That was yesterday. Now we’re mumbling about maybe hitting 50 F. It’s 37 F now. The claims made yesterday for today have been shifted to tomorrow. Feels like a con game. Wonder how much of Trump DOGE cuts cause the diminishing weather forecast accuracy?

Another night of intriguing dreams featuring cars, women, and building had me wondering about stuff this morning. Traversing the assimilating and understanding functions of parsing the dreams inspired Les Neurons. “Clocks” by Coldplay floated into the morning mental music stream. The song’s lyrics go, “Confusion never stops. Closing walls and ticking clocks. Gonna come back and take you home. I could not stop that you now know, singing.” Which pretty well reflected part of one remembered dream sequence. Actually, minus the clocks. It was but the sentiment of confusion.

Speaking of the sentiment of confusion, have you heard Deceiving Donny’s recent speeches? Yes, he’s a rambling vocal trainwreck. Naturally, MAGA reactions are, “But Biden.” Always looking to the past, they are, always hunting for an escape route to avoid facing reality. Read a piece which tickled me from MPS, Case Study: In Your Guts, You Know He’s Nuts.

Yes, we know he’s nuts. So does AI as it reviews some sample shitalk outta the great mango babbler. Trump’s probably the greatest babbler the world has ever known. He can babble like no babbler has ever babbled before. People listening to him often remark, “What an amazing babbler. What a stunning babbler.” After listening to Dizzy Donny’s babbling, people often march up, shake his hand, and say, “Sir, that was the most beautiful babbling I’ve heard the pleasure of hearing.” One man said he told Trumpy Dumpty, “In my two hundred fifty years of life, I’ve never heard greater babble coming out of anybody like this before, let alone the President of the United States. What babble! Amazing babble! BEAUTIFUL BABBLE!!!”

I was with friends having a beer and talking last night. One related the death of his brothers. One older, one younger. Both being treated. One was denied Oregon’s “Death with dignity” to pursue assisted suicide because he was being treated and following a course of stuff supposed to fight the disease, etc. But the side effect of said treatment were blood clots which caused strokes, diminishing his capacity to speak, move, breathe, etc. Sickening and exasperating.

On that note, time to rev up the life engine and plunge into my daily routines. Which mostly circulates around going out and writing. Writing is going well but consumes so much life band. My wife is tremendously accommodating of my efforts. She deserves several prizes. Hope I can reward her faith and support with success someday. Meanwhile, onward. Cheers

2

A Building Dream

Well, I dreamed my wife was driving the car. I was in the back seat of this dark green sedan beast. Weird, I was standing while my wife was sitting, sawing at the giant steering wheel. But my head was at her level. Oddly, the steering wheel was on the right, counter to the usual U.S. practice of having the wheel on the left side.

A gorgeous woman with a low top and cleavage displayed was on the seat behind me, wholly exciting me with her presence, trying to entice me to join her. I’m like, “That’s nuts!” My wife is driving us to either shopping or school. Note from the real-life side, my wife only drives me when my physical condition warrants it.

We stop. I climb out from the back seat. I ask my wife, “Where are we?” It seems familiar, like a beach we’ve visited but no beach is in sight. Instead, white pieces are all over the place.

I pick a few white pieces up with some WTF-self quizzing. They seem bigger than they were. At first, I thought them to be building blocks like the kind children use. Instead, these are as large as shoe boxes, but they’re light. Hardly weigh anything at all.

They’re all over the place, like wreckage. I can’t imagine what happened to cause it. Hurricane? Tornado? Both are feasible but what were the pieces part of and where were they before? I’m looking around, trying to place that.

A whim drives me to collect pieces. After doing that, I realize they can be put together and stacked as a wall. Amused, I do this for a bit. Finding and gathering more pieces, I put together corners, doorways, windows without much effort. I’ve been working a while in bright sunshine, a warm breeze coming along as a visitor. I was sweating and then realized I didn’t see my wife or the car. A little thinking about that progressed but I returned to my building effort. I wondered as I did if this thing I was building was strong enough to stand, and wondered, why am I even doing this? It seemed crazy.

Two other crazy aspects emerged as I worked. The building changed, becoming a real place. I was at once sure that I’d built it but also certain that I’d never done all the things I was seeing. Second, the day seemed to be progressing enormously slowly. I took some time to contemplate where the sun was, trying to think back to where it’d been when I began, but I couldn’t come up with any answer.

That’s where the dream ended.

4

Twozdaz Theme Music

Read about Chicago’s weather this morning. I felt much better about our weather today, Twozda, December 9, 2025. 44 F now, sunshine has bullied the clouds and fog aside for the moment, graciously giving us a blue sky and the chance of a temperature in the upper fifties. Rain is lurking.

A tense truce has settled between Mom and the family. Mom is ignoring everyone and plotting her own destiny. Sis is polite and helpful but gives Mom her space. Text message volume has dropped from “Trump midnight anger ranting” levels to a more sedate “checking in” scale. Nothing is resolved. More a matter of water seeking its level, you know, adjustments being made. Mom tried different avenues to get returned to her home. This ‘quiet plotting time’ is familiar to all of us. It’s now wait and see what emerges from it. We think it’s best to let Mom talk to those agencies. If one comes to visit her, perhaps they’ll recognize her state and commence proceedings. The sisters on the scene don’t want anything to do with that. I’m considering flying back to address it but the magnitude of the task is major bigly.

Today’s song choice is fresh from the dream review. “One” by U2 begins, “Is it getting better or do you feel the same?” Although the dream said nothing about Mom and her situation, thoughts of her situation flooded my dream meditation process. Then, surprise, The Neurons caught on to my thinking and pushed the song into the morning mental music stream to play and ferment. I found this video interesting because it’s not an effort to duplicate the studio sound. The lyrics and delivery end up much different.

Here’s a headline that seized my attention this morning.

Trump admin is ‘trying to put out a fire they started’ at Weather Service as a cold, snowy winter looms

Gosh, I wonder if anyone saw the possibility that the manic cuts Trump made through DOGE was gonna have negative repercussions on the nation’s services, including weather forecasting?

Well, of course, most of us on the left shouted, “Look out, what is wrong with you,” when this happened. We’ve seen this scenario play out time and again during Trump 2 (now with less brain cells!). They fire everyone. Realize they made a mistake and broke a system or need those people. Scramble to find those people and bring them back to fix that system. What maroons.

Another trend was one my wife brought up.

Why Gen Z is flocking to SEC universities

SEC universities are sixteen institutions located primarily in the south. Outliers are Tennessee and Oklahoma. Several are in Texas.

Why are they going there? Short answer: warmer weather, lower tuition, more fun. Longer answer: student loans and lifelong student debt.

Another interesting headline reminds us that the Epstein files still exist.

Judge grants DOJ request to unseal Ghislaine Maxwell records

In ordering the files released in accordance with the Epstein Files Transparency Act, U.S. District Judge Paul Engelmayer noted that almost all of it was already public record and chastised DOJ for misleading people about the Maxwell files’ content.

~snip~

“As the Court chronicled in denying DOJ’s motion, the motion itself misled victims —and the public at large — in holding out the Maxwell grand jury materials as essential to the goal of ‘transparency to the American public,’ when in fact the grand jury materials would not add to public knowledge,” he wrote in Tuesday’s order.  

~snip~

Coffee is awakening the body systems for another go around. Hope peace and grace find and hold you sooner or later. Here we go, one more time. “Let’s be careful out there.” Cheers

0

Mundaz Theme Music

Sunshine is making its way. Yesterday’s prevailing gray has been subdued. Temperatures from 46 to 57 degrees F, now and later. It’ll be cloudy. Rain could slip in. So could fog. We’ll see what we see for today, Munda, December 8, 2025. At least it has a less wintry feel to it. Yeah, I know how much I whine. Other places are digging out of snow, dealing with slush and ice. Here I sit, the prince on his cushion, upset about a pea.

Haven’t done this song in a while. “You May Be Right” is a fave for me. Like the words, their sentiments, the beat, and Billy Joel’s delivery. It’s a ripped from life sort of song. That’s what brought it here today. Mom and sisters are now in open war. One sister said she won’t have naught to do with Mom. Sis, the primary caretaker, said she will no longer speak to Mom or help her. Third sister said she is also not speaking to Mom because Mom is not listening and is shouting at everyone. Exhausting a thousand miles away plus.

Mom wants to return to ‘her house’. Her house has been cleaned out of food. Slowly stripped of stuff to make it saleable, an effort begun back in October. Sis and the others are saying, “Let her go if that’s what she wants.” I tried to make peace. Tried to explain how it didn’t work for Mom in October when Frank was hospitalized and it won’t work now. Sis and the others have moved past caring, they say. Mom has alienated everyone in the house. Sigh.

Tried to explain to Mom why it won’t work for her to return to her place. Mom’s response was, well, startling in its unmoored style. She told me that my sister had gotten to me. Went into something about how that was because she’d been in and out of a wheelchair back in October but now they’re keeping her in a wheelchair so her back and legs are week. Like, what? Mom finished, “I’m going to get out of here, one way or another.”

Frequently in the conversations and texts about the situation, I end up saying, “You may be right.” After observing me thinking it so often, The Neurons decided that I needed the song and cranked it up in the morning mental music stream. Although I often look for recordings of live performances, I enjoy the original video for this song, so here it is.

In reflection about Mom and sis, etc., I had doubts about that arrangement working. Mom is hardheaded; sis inherited that from her. Mom also have several other skills, like being overdramatic and the ability to push others’ buttons. Sis and Mom have history. Nonetheless, I was hopeful. This option was also the only one Mom agreed to. I think all concerned dreamed of a different outcome. Of course, we can’t say how much drug, pain, aging, stress, emotions, etc., is dictating this course. I’ve seen other families endure it with grit teeth and heavy sighs. Now it’s our family’s turn. I don’t have hopes for any sort of quick, easy, or happy outcomes. One of them is texting me right now so I must go see what the latest is.

Need I say, we all miss Frank for his patience, support, and endurance?

Hope peace and grace finds and holds you. I’ve had a couple slugs of coffee. Think I’ll have a few more. Here we go. Cheers

4

Sundaz Wandering Thoughts

My wife greeted me from the kitchen as I entered the house.

Then she said, “You’re not going to be happy with me.”

“Why?”

“I used the last of your blueberries.”

Walking in behind her, I said, “What did you say?” As she repeated herself, I held up the pint of blueberries I’d purchased on my way home.

Astonishment lit her face. “How did you know?”

“I was watching you on the house cam.”

Suspicious doubt swept her astonishment away. “The what?”

“It’s a camera installed in a wine bottle. I put it in before we went to Pittsburgh.”

“You did not.”

Laughing and walking away, I replied, “Then how did I know?”

I later caught her peering at a wine bottle. Saying nothing, she gave me a look that was loud with accusations.

5

Sundaz Theme Music

Gray, wet, cold. We haven’t even officially started winter and I’m already getting tired of it. One wag said, “Of course, we’ve started winter. It’s December.” I responded with words about the equinox. They rolled their eyes. How dare they.

It’s Sunda, December 7, 2025. 35 degrees F. Gonna be 50 F, the masters of weather tell us through Alexa. I have a problem with that. Last night, I asked Alexa about the weather. She told me the low would be 40. That didn’t strike me as believable so I asked her what the temperature would be at 6 AM. “Forty degrees,” Alexa asserted.

Imagine my reaction when it was below 40 degrees at eight AM. I said, “Alexa, what’s the weather for today?”

“Right now in Ashland it’s thirty-five degrees. Today’s low will be forty degrees with intermittent clouds. The high will be fifty degrees.”

Blatantly lying to me, just like the Trump Regime. “Alexa,” I said, “How can the low for today be forty degrees when it’s five degrees colder than that right now?” Alexa mumbled on about how she didn’t know what I was talking about and then mocked the way I asked the question.

Today’s song is “Your Love Is Driving Me Crazy”. It’s a rocker by the red rocker, Sammy Hagar. Came about when my wife asked me if she could interrupt what I was doing to share something with me. “Go ahead,” I replied. “I don’t mind.” That was even though I did mind because I was reading something and deep into thinking about it and would probably need to start reading it all over again because I haven’t had coffee yet and The Neurons were mumbling, “What are those black things on the screen? What are they? I think I’ve…does anyone have a doughnut?”

Then The Neurons hooked up on the words, “I don’t mind,” and click, “Your Love Is Driving Me Crazy” was playing in the morning mental music stream. Song came out in 1983. Consulting The Neurons, that’s like over forty years ago. I had a friend back then who thought this was the only good Sammy Hagar song he’d put out. He’d turn this one up but change the channel on any other SH offering. When SH joined Van Halen, he declared with deep gloom, “This is the end of them.” He could be so chipper!

Read something about some inane thing Trump said. The press shook their heads. Other liberals grrrrrowled and mocked and raged, etc. At this point, I feel like Heritage Foundation and soulless GOP zombies have taken over the Trump Regime. He’s just a mouthpiece. Way Trump speaks in public these days, it doesn’t seem like much mind remains. Sad in its way, as it’s probably dementia. I don’t want that for anyone but especially someone with control over nukes, someone who others let wander around without oversight and supervision. Seems like the regime lets Trump out to talk and walk in the way that people use toys to entertain their pets or plop their children down in front of a television with a movie to keep them quiet and preoccupied while everything the nation built since the start is torn down. Except the military and police. Yes, I’m a cynic and pessimist at this point. Gimme coffee, stat!

Gonna go make my coffee so I can shut The Neurons up. Hope peace and grace, etc. Here we go. Cheers

0

The Coffee Shop

I broke out of my writerly cocoon this week. I typically get into the coffee shop, find a table and seat, assume the position and shut down to being friendly. I have met Kim, another writer, and chat with her regularly, but briefly. We each respect the writer’s privacy and methodology, so while we will emerge to joke and exchange words, we shut back down and get down to our respective writing processes.

Meanwhile, though, there are dogs. People bring their pups in with them, a practice I applaud. Living in Europe, it wasn’t unusual to encounter dogs in restaurants, cafes, and shops. I’m fine with them.

And the dogs are fine with me. But because they come and visit me, I end up chatting with their people. Then the people open up with their curiosity about what I do there each day. In explaining, others overhear. They volunteer later, privately, that they’re a writer, too. It’s a veritable writing hive.

I also ventured out of my cocoon on my own. A woman sat down beside me yesterday as I was wrapping up. She put a book down, along with a notebook. Always interested in people’s reading material, I glanced over. The book’s title was A Wild Life, a book about women in botany and their discoveries. I have several botanist friends, learned, intelligent, charming people who are passionate about botany. I said, “Pardon me, I saw your book. Are you a botanist?”

“I wish,” she responded.

We chatted about the book and why she chose it. A local person, Lucretia Saville Weems, is the author, and the woman saw it in Bloomsbury’s local authors section and was interested and bought it.

Packing up, I said my goodbyes to her but wasn’t done socializing. I’d noticed a young couple. She was wearing a One Piece sweatshirt. My wife and I are One Piece fans, so I had to pause to compliment her on her top, and then we talked about the television series and enjoyed some laughs.

Probably just something in the air for a few days. I’m back in my cocoon today, ready to get to it.

5

Satyrdaz Wandering Thoughts

As I sit here typing, I’m aware of a hair. It sits on the left side of my left eye’s vision. It’s been pestering me for two days. It’s from the Eyebrow Tribe. At first, I just brushed at it. Then I tried finding it in the mirror and pasting it down. When that failed, I tried jerking it out with my fingertips. Should’ve gotten tweezers to seriously address it but no, I was in the middle of something else and was rushing myself. Or should I just clipped it back. Tsk.

And here it is again. Sitting on my vision’s edge, mocking me.

Curse you, little curly hair. Curse you. This isn’t over.

0

Saturdaz Theme Music

Guess what? It’s a cold and gray, wet and sunny December 6th, 2025, Ashlandia Saturda. The wet is drying, the fog is swirling, the sun is breaking in, and the gray is hanging on. The digital mercury currently rests at 46 F degrees with sunny promises of a 50 F degree high.

Mom and sis battle on. Mom’s mind has taken a turn for the worse, and her behavior has pushed the people living with her to the limit. She’s suddenly paranoid and conspiratorial, making bizarre accusations, and is increasingly hostile and critical, accusing everyone of imaginary slights. Mom has exhibited these traits throughout her adult life. All of her offspring can relate periods of encountering Mom in ‘one of her moods’. This period, which has lasted several days, has driven sis to declare she’ll have nothing to do with Mom any longer. Of course, sis is speaking out of anger, stress, and frustration. Mom has declared that she’ll move back to her house and live alone. “Go for it,” shouted sis, according to sis when we spoke on the phone. We are investigating and discussing trying to get Mom into somewhere else for her living situation.

Today’s song is “Sexcrimes”. This is a 1984 Eurythmics song, full name “Sexcrimes (Nineteen Eighty-Four)”. No idea why The Neurons slotted it into the morning mental music stream this morning. In the kitchen doing breakfast things when it made its appearance. Always sort of an odd song to me, never quite to my preference, but I encountered on the radio back in the day. There is something slightly mesmerizing about it to me, maybe the beat, I suppose.

Read the news last night that the National Parks Service has declared free admission for Trumpy’s birthday. Meanwhile, giving us a massive middle finger, the NPS dropped Juneteenth and MLK Jr’s birthday as holidays with free admission that they’ll recognize. More of that kingliness grace that Trump is imposing on We the People as he defecates on our past collective decisions, history, and heritage. Of course, thanks to Dizzy Donny and the massive staffing and budget cuts under his regime, stories of chaotic situations at national parks are on the rise.

Been thirty days since my gallbladder was removed. Recovering and adjusting seem to be going well. It’s my habit to drink hot water in the morning. This week, I’ve experienced nausea when doing that. From the way it rolls from my abdomen and gathers at the back of my throat by my jaw muscles, most online medical sites tell me it’s not unusual and is most likely because of an irritated Vagus Nerve. As a root cause, that’s not startling. They’ve suggested an overstimulated Vagus Nerve is probably behind my high blood pressure for years. Manuka Honey does settle the nausea.

Coffee has been re-introduced to my biosystems. Hope grace and peace show up someday in the United States again someday. Here we go, into another day.

0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑