Tag: meals

Satyrdaz Theme Music

Last night was beautifully clear and cool.The temperature dropped into the 50s. We were rewarded with a coolly comfortable house in the morning, third day in a row. I credit the skunks for some of that. We usually open our windows at night, and our doors for a few evening hours, to naturally cool the house. Skunks, though, were getting busy at eleven at night, releasing their odor and forcing us to shut the windows. The skunks have taken an August recess. Hope they’re not ending it soon.

Today is Satyrda, August 9, 2025. It’s 75 F now, feels 85 F, and is going to reach 91. Tomorrow, we stalk the century zone again. I think about how pleased I am that I used the cool stretch to get outside work accomplished. The flip of that is, while I was doing that work, I discovered — or sometimes, re-discovered — other work to be done at there. I’m bristling about it a little now because today and tomorrow are swamped with calls for other activities, like a memorial service for a friend. There’s too many of those things going on.

We’re going on vacay, too. Detailed planning plagues the days leading up to our planned departure. Food is the subject. We’re sharing a house with two other couples. Those four are a decade plus older than us. We all live under food restrictions. No this and that. I now have my own list. They all want to cook in the rented home. That’s apparently part of their vacation ethos: “Let’s go away and cook.”

Each couple is to provide dinner one night. We’re on our own for breakfast and lunch. My wife and I have a surprise dessert planned, a vegan fondue smorgasbord.

As I sat reading news and sipping my coffee, my wife said from her part of the office, “We don’t need to worry about him. He’s golfing today.”

“Not true,” I answered. “Thanks to modern technology, he can text something or call someone and launch a new round of craziness.”

Although we never said his name, we’re talking about the human wrecking ball named Trump, who is also known as TACO. My wife and I share some laughs over FAFO stories, like the Trump Burger guy who ICE picked up and plans to deport, Roland Mehrez Beainy. Beainy responds to the claims against him, “Ninety percent of the shit they’re saying is not true.” Well, that’s probaby so. This is the TACO regime. They’re addicted to lying, just their leader, TACO himself.

Shifting tones, my wife and I are angry about reports of how big tech is helping the TACO Regime. Apple’s investments, and Tim Cook’s gold offering to Trump sicken us. Amazon Web Services gave Trump a billion dollar discount. Gag, groan. Google slashed cloud services for the TACO Regime. OpenAI is giving Trump’s agencies access for $1 per year. Ordinarily, I’d think, look how great this is, with these companies helping the United States. But they’re not helping the U.S. Nothing Trump does helps the U.S. It’s all about him. And these companies are bribing him to stay on his good side.

Today’s music is “Pride and Joy”. This is a 1983 rock blues offering by Stevie Ray Vaughn and Double Trouble. My wife and I are both fans of SRV & DT, and we enjoy this song. But I don’t understand any segue that leads from what I dreamed, thought, or observed that led The Neurons to pull this one out and slot it into the morning mental music stream. It’s just one of those brain things, I guess.

Coffee has been sucked up. Its off to the races. Hope grace and peace finds and keeps you. Cheers

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The White House Extravaganza Dream

The White House Extravaganza Dream was long, detailed, and complicated as a Game of Thrones season. It’d take too long time and words to recount it completely, so I’m offering a few bullets.

  • I was in my mid-twenties. My wife and I were staying a luxurious mini-suite. We were discussing where to go eat when we remembered, “Oh, wait, we have the White House today.”
  • She and I were one of several hundreds on the tour. My family and brothers-in-law were on it, too. As an interesting side, they were their current ages while I was young.
  • The White House wasn’t the familiar edifice. I never saw the outside, but the inside was an extensive complex. Furniture and carpets were in cranberry hues.
  • Guides were always around, answering our questions, leading us into new halls and places, explaining things, and watching after us. The guides were all dressed in cranberry-colored slacks and vests, with long-sleeved light-blue shirts. The senior guide was an elegant female person of color.
  • They fed us a lot during the tour. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks. I ended up declining food. After eating one meal, they offered us smoothies. I turned them down because I was too full. I was amazed that others took them.
  • I didn’t meet the POTUS but the Secret Service stopped a small group of us because the POTUS was in the room. A slender, bald person of color, the POTUS he wore a dark cranberry suit, speaking about jazz while getting his shoes shined. When he finished, he waved to us and walked away down another hall. We were all very excited and pleased to see him.
  • We’d also gone on the White House water park rides. They showed us slides and videos of us on the different rides, laughing and having fun.
  • At one point on the tour, as we were being escorted from one hall to another, a young white man called me out and stopped me. Introducing himself as a WH aide, he provided me with a business card. Before giving it to me, he turned it over and wrote in pen. He said, “That’s a code to reach me any time that you need help or want anything. Just call the number and give them the code, and they’ll put you through.” I was amused. I couldn’t imagine what help I would need from the WH. No one else received such a card to my knowledge.
  • Toward the end, I needed to use the restroom and stopped at the underground WH gas station. (Yeah, ns.) I was first to arrive of five men. The room was occupied. We were not in line but standing apart. Although I was first, I let the others go ahead of me. While there, a man had a large four-wheel drive Ford pickup. Jacked up, with huge tires on chrome wheels, it was painted glossy red. He had a panel on the bed raised. I looked inside and saw an orderly line of transfer cases and differentials. While I was baffled why he had so many, the layout impressed me. “But where is the engine?” I asked, even though I knew it was a pick-up truck, the engine should be in the front. But I spotted it in the back, a huge black and chrome unit.
  • At one point in the WH dream tour, I noticed the carpet had tiles made to look like shoes. I then discovered that these included outlines of my family members’ shoes. They were enormous, much larger than my shoes. I laughed at that.

The dream was livelier than these words portrayed. I felt energetic and lifted when it ended. Its sharpness and details amazed me.

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