Tag: memories

Munda’s Theme Music

My body and mind were unanimous. More sleep was wanted. Yesterday was busy with an Easter Brunch. We’d been preparing all week. 10:15, we set off to go help with setup. By 11:30, all were there. A smorgasbord awaited. Mexican quiche, salmon with asparagus, salmon and cream cheese rolls. Dutch babies and lemon cake for dessert. Salads. Juices and libation to make it chippier. Easter egg hunt and korn hole. A half dozen present shared their latest stories about demonstrating against Trump in Ashland and Medford. 2 PM, it was all over.

Over to a friend’s house for his 93rd birthday. Just family and my wife and I. He has health issues and didn’t want a gathering. After singing the birthday song, witnessing the candle blowout, and visiting for two hours, we headed home to unpack and wash everything.

Blue skies were the day’s order. Light wind kept it from becoming too warm. 69 F was the tops. Today seems like it looked over yesterday’s shoulder and copied the weather.

I reminded my body and mind that sleeping in wasn’t an option. Today is Food & Friends deliveries. Crank up the car, pick up the food, and roll through the streets on route 3 to knock on doors and ring bells and drop off a small meal in southeastern Ashlandia. I’m the driver; my wife makes the deliveries.

Then, finally, it’ll be back to writing at the coffee shop for a few hours, and then home to wash clothes and attend yard work. The grass and weeds are gladded by the sunshine. It’s all shooting up fast.

Papi is beside himself with happiness by the time the air warms. It’s rolled up to 49 F now. He heads outside and sniffs out the sunshine. Then wind sniffs him out and he’s back in. It’s a never-ending game of ‘In & Out’!

The mountain air loads the night with temperatures that dribble down into the mid thirties. That temp feels colder. But we’re on the regular Ashlandia spring track. Only troubling thing is we’re not seeing any bees. They’re normally all over the place with their buzzing presence. Their absence disturbs.

Yesterday’s Easter Trump dump again illuminated his pathetic ways. That vitriol and lie-filled text mess is a sign of an insecure, demented, ignorant person. Trump’s dark forces again rose to show what a sinister and ugly place the United States is becoming under his hand as two young and wholly innocent German tourists were detained and deported, all for the crime of not having accommodations already reserved. Such fools are now in charge. Then there’s Trump’s undocumented bullshit broadside against Abrego Garcia. WTF, United States. Is this truly your vision?

With those thoughts spinning through my groovy organic thought machine, The Neurons spun up Aerosmith in the morning mental music stream: “Same Old Song and Dance”. Last time I used this ditty was in 2019. Trump occupied the White House then. I wrote back on that day,

Reading the news yesterday and today, I was shaking my head, partially laughing while crying. You know, it was the same old story.

That led to me streaming Aerosmith.

It’s the same old story
Same old song and dance, my friend
It’s the same old story
Same old story
Same old song and dance

It was an easy song to identify with when I was a teenager and the song was released. When you asked questions, you often heard, “That’s just how it is. That’s how it goes.” It was always the same old song and dance, no matter what you were asked.

So here we go. Trump is attacking and bullying whatever he can — law, courts, common sense, history, morality, it’s all open to a Trump attack. He’s like a puppy gnawing on clothes, shoes, and furniture. Nothing is safe from his brainless chewing. A puppy does far less damage, though. A puppy will grow out of it. Trump, with his deteriorating and aging mental capacity, will get worse.

Same ol’ story, same ol’ song and dance.

Have the best day you can, my friend. Fueled with coffee, I’ll rock on for another day, it seems. Cheers

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Wenzda’s Wandering Thoughts

It’s Wenza. Middle and high school are in session. You know what that means.

2:03 PM, the murmuration of children begins. Noises double in decibels and echo like we’re in a gym. Screeches, shouts, laughter, blow out my ear drums in three second sound bites.

Cliques form. Tables and chairs are hunted. Backpacks are dumped. A line snakes out from the counter. Drinks are ordered, picked up, shared, consumed.

Happens every Wenzda when school is in session in Ashlandia.

Oddly, today, besides the sounds and visuals, the school children bring in smells of a lunchtime cafeteria. It could be roast turkey with mashed potatoes and gravy. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s just memory of another time making itself known.

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A Loaded Dream

It was a long and involved dream. Here are some dreamlights.

I was a young middle-aged man and head of a small business unit. We were located in a semi-tropical, warm, high humidity area. It was not the United States. Outside of my co-workers, the people I knew had all lived in the same huge brick apartment building. All Americans lived there for at least the first four months after their arrival in counrty.

A black 1968 Camaro Z/28 with silver stripes seen three times. A young man was driving it. In real life, I owned a Camaro but not a Z. Mine was not black and silver. Black and silver were Bruce McLaren’s original colors before he changed the team to Kiwi orange or Gulf orange. McLaren was a New Zealand driver and car constructor I idolized as a boy. I had an HO scale racing car of his black and silver McLaren Elva in my car line up.

Musical groups were offered, including the Suzy Qs. That CCR song, “Suzie Q”, was played. Sam Smith was offered, too. His hit, “I’m Not the Only One” was played. In conversation, I was told that not all offerings were available. A weird and arbitrary fashion was invoked to decreed who could be seen, and who could see them. After listening to that, I rejected that method. Said that I wasn’t going to follow or enforce it because it was stupid, and then left. That ended that.

The weekly entertainment was offered on a waxy red poster on a brick wall outside among some foliage. 80 pounds was listed as the admission price for one of them. Hearing that, I opted not to go. A friend was sunbathing nearby. I lied and told her I wasn’t going because there was a baby shower for a woman living in the building the same night as the concert.

Saw two therapists, both women. The therapists were seen three times total. I walked with one of them, talking to her about some of my career frustrations and disappointments. When I saw the other therapist a second time, she couldn’t find my records. I then told her that I’d spoken to the other therapist about that therapist, and then told that therapits what I’d told the other therapist.

Overall, a very good dream.

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Munda’s Theme Music

The space and time continuum of today says its April 14, 2025, in Ashlandia. Sunshine hunts the spaces between the blinds. Pulling the blinds, blue sky rises into place. They say it’ll reach 26 C today. That’s 80 F for Fahrenheit fans. Right now it’s 58 F. Stand in the sun and it feels like it’s over 70.

The cat is out there acting like the sun king. Yesterday was a 74 F day of sunshine. We had the back door open to let it all in. The cat came in and slept against a wall, under a window in the living room, ten feet away from the open door. He later tail rushed me, asking to be let out the front. My wife said, “You know, the back door is open, Papi.” Papi eeped back. I let him out front. He settled into a favorite space between two bushes in a patch of sun against the house. Scheckter established that spot nineteen years ago. Quinn, Lady, and Tucker owned it for many years. Papi continues to ensure it’s used.

Loaded dreams were had last night. Not a great amount of action but a load of of information. Two songs were included in the dream. One was Sam Smith singing, “I’m Not the Only One” from 2014. Startling to realize that song is already a decade old. Still feels ‘new’ to me. I think that’s how it goes when you age and time speeds up for you.

The other song was CCR’s “Suzie Q”. Hard as it was to accept that “I’m Not the Only One” is ten years old, comprehending that “Suzie Q”, spelled differently than the original, “Susie Q”, is more than 50 years old. A large slug of coffee is needed to digest that. Some serious reminiscing follows about hearing the song as a twelve year old, remembering it being played at parties and gatherings, singing along. There’s a lot of that in fifty years.

A video that fit my needs of CCR performing Suzie Q wasn’t found, so I went with John Fogerty doing the song. Hope you don’t mind.

Coffee has encroached on my systems, lifting me up again. Hope your Monday weather satisfies your scratch and that you discover the secrets needed to make it happily through more days. I’m going out into the sunshine to drink coffee and forget about this year for a few minutes. Cheers

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Frida’s Theme Music

Greetings again, world. It’s time again for Frida. Today is April 11, 2025. Those of you in ‘Merica might note the date and say, “Oh, yeah. Taxes.” I finished mine back in early Feb but held off submitting because I owe, I owe. Submitting them is on tonight’s agenda.

It’s 54 F at this point. Feels like it to me. Sunshine is a light version of itself today. Mmm, yeah, cloudy. Might rain. Might not. Might get up to 60 F. Then again, might not. This is Ashlandia spring weather.

Been reading and digesting the news. I know what I make of things. I see that on the political spectrum’s right side, they’re either cherry-picking info or hiding it. Cherry-picking as in, “Look how strong the market was Wednesday.” Hiding, as in, crickets about inflation and the price of eggs. Eggs bounced up into record realms. Rising prices were offset by Trusk Regime imports from Turkey and South Korea.

“Turkey and South Korea,” my wife said. “Wonder if the tariffs will change that.”

Looking out the window, I noted the weather change. The Neurons perversely seized the weather change and fired up “Call Me the Breeze”. They had the 1974 Lynyrd Skynyrd cover of the JJ Cale classic going in the morning mental music stream in short order.

“Ain’t no change in the weather
Ain’t no change in me
Ain’t no change in the weather
Ain’t no change in me
I ain’t hidin’ from nobody
Ain’t nobody hidin’ from me

h/t Genius.com

I enjoy the LS version but we’re not all the same, so here’s Eric Clapton and JJ Cale doing another offering.

And then we have an offerin’ by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.

I find them fine but in different ways. Hope one suited your Frida taste buds.

Coffee and I have metaphorically joined hands once again. Hope your Frida is going strong and just gets better and better, and I’m not being snarky when I say that.

Cheers

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Thirstda’s Theme Music

Thirstda, April 10, 2025, cracked opened a new package of spring in Ashlandia. Filled with fresh air, new blooms and blossoms, dark and heavy green grass, and bright sunshine highlighting lazy clouds, it’s a day full of promise. 54 F now, that sunshine makes it feel like 67 F. 72 F is being shaken as an offering. Attached to the end of the weather promise is a warning that it’s gonna cool down tomorrow by more than ten degrees.

Newsweek is brimming with a tale of Donald Trump’s tanking approval numbers. Over on a rightwing site, they’re psyched about Trump having the highest approval rating among the last four presidents at this point in their term. Are we united yet?

News stories are rich about several matters on Trump. They’re still talking about him floating the idea of bombing our friend, neighbor, and ally, Mexico. After Trump said that he wouldn’t back down, he put tariffs on pause for 90 days for most countries, with a few exceptions for certain industries and imports. China’s heavy levies remain. In a surprise move that surprised only those half asleep under rocks, the House GOP passed Trump’s budget. Oh, but there was talk of such a rebellion going on there! Such dramatic stances were kind of made by these spineless caricatures of principled GOTP politicians. Several made it clear that they thought it was the wrong move but they voted for it anyway.

Primers regarding ‘how we got here’ are circulating. Not with Trump per se but our manufacturing issues in the United States. Many point out that goods are still produced in the U.S.A. These are often made in automated factories with few employees. History lessons are presented as reminders that it was that right-wing darling, Ronald Reagan, who championed changes in laws that allow the massive stock buybacks that are now the standard operating procedure for U.S. corporations. They point out that it was the right-wing business hero, Jack Welch of GE and “30Rock” fame, who led the charge to outsource and offshore. Hoping to keep up, and seein’ how GE financially thrived for a while, the same course was charted for many U.S. corporations. China and underdeveloped nations hungry for opportunity eagerly offered their land and people as new manufacturing bases. Now Trump blames those countries for what we as a nation did. Classic Trumpism: cluelessly blame others.

Today’s theme music is a matter of a haunting. Someone posted a comment about Joe Jackson and his song, “Is She Really Going Out with Him?” The Neurons trapped it in my morning mental music stream. I need to share it to exorcise it from my head. Not a bad song at all but speaking personally, having the same song playing over and over in my mind starts increasing my whacko factor. My whacko factor, or WF, is already naturally high.

I’ve chilled with some coffee and played with the cat. He enjoys some hide and seek and chase in the morning. Hope your day gives you all you need and more. Here we go.

Cheers

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Humpda’s Theme Music

The cat agrees with me. It’s a nice day to rest. Allergies have me nose snorking. My throat feels a little sore and inflamed. I wonder over whether it’s allergies or some other new diseases encouraged my Trump’s feckless management.

Trump is quite the feckless person these days, pivoting from idea to idea. Feels like we’re being guided by a two-year-old who is just discovering words.

Outside, the weather is better than my mood. Sunshine skips between clouds. It’s 50 F but feels warmer. Springier. A mild wind sometimes lashes nature into movement. It might touch 70 F today. I had plans but my whining side is undermining them.

I smirk as I read news of Trump supporters like Joe Rogan, Ben Shapiro, et al, barking and whining about Trump’s tariffs. Will he listen to the shitheels? Questionable. They encouraged him to be who he is. Supported him all the way. Told others to do the same. That’s probably confusing and irritating to puppy Trump and the pack. “Why’d you vote me in when I told you I would do this, only to turn around and tell me not to do that after I’ve been voted in?”

Painful as this is, we wouldn’t be enduring this pain if those people — those ‘influencers’ — thought more about what was going on and what was going to happen. But oh, no, eggs! So ‘pensive! Border! Fear! Kamala is a woman! Female POTUS — so scawy!

Now look at their worry and fear. Who let the dog out?

Reading these things, pondering them as coffee warms my throat, The Neurons bring “Mad World” by Tears for Fears into the morning mental music stream. That makes total sense.

Yes, coffee is warming me but it’s giving little comfort. Trump’s supporters are turning on him but that’s also offering little comfort. GOP reps are supposedly resisting Trump’s budget and tariffs. That gives me little comfort. They’ve proven themselves to be feckless and spineless. Like that Mitch McConnell, basically declaring with a pout, “Oh, no, he’s going too far.”

You created that monster, fool.

My wife passed “Death of the Author” to me after she finished reading it. She said, “You’ll thank me later.” I think I’ll go read a book.

Cheers

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Twosda’s Theme Music

The weather disappoints me. Sunshine awoke me. That’s faded. Clouds rolled in. Yesterday afternoon turned into a rain marathon. I hoped it rain itself out.

It’s not raining now. It’s just not my idea of ‘nice’. That term for weather has gained a narrower scope as I age.

Not just the weather disappointing me. Papi fractured my sleep with his complaining and in-and-out capades. “Are you getting revenge because we took you to the vet yesterday?”

The cat miaws back. Not his usual sound, which is an extended, “Eeeeppp.”

“I didn’t want to do it,” I tell him. That’s true. “It was for your own good.” Just as Mom used to tell me about almost everything upsetting me as a child.

The vet wants us to have the cat’s teeth worked on. “She’s aggressive about having his teeth worked on,” my wife says.

“She was the same with Tucker.” Tucker had all his teeth removed. “Poor Tucker.”

“He was happier after his teeth were taken out.”

Papi’s teeth estimate is $1900. It shocked us. “Should we do Papi’s teeth?” I ask.

“Let me think about it.”

That’s just how Mom used to say no.

Besides those things, recent SCOTUS rulings have me wringing my hands. Also, I read an article about how surprised financial advisors and stock brokers were that Trump actually went through with the tariffs.

“We’re stepping into the most pro-growth, pro-business, pro-American administration I’ve perhaps seen in my adult lifetime,” gushed the hedge fund manager Bill Ackman in December.

“I don’t think this was foreseeable,” a mournful Ackman posted on X on Monday. “I assumed economic rationality would be paramount.” What an odd assumption to make about a man who bankrupted casinos.

But it was foreseeable. Those of us who didn’t vote for Trump readily foresaw it.

I’m disappointed that Ackman and his kind didn’t foresee it. I’m disappointed that he didn’t believe us when we told him this was going to happen.

BTW, this is Twosda. April 8, 2025. It’s 52 F outside. Partly cloudy. It might rain.

The Neurons are playing “Lithium” by Nirvana in the morning mental music stream. The song was released in 1991. I was still a military member then. Just arrived back to the U.S. in Feb. that year after almost four years in Germany. I was assigned to Onizuka Air Station in California. Some good years were had there.

Nursing coffee, I hear a squeegee sound. The cat runs his wet pads on the door glass when he wants in. “Swqueek swqueek swqueek swqueek.” Sunshine is up. So is the wind. I let in the cat. He turns to me and says, “Merow?”

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Munda’s Theme Music

Munda’s arrived, spinning to a stop in April 7, 2025 in Ashlandia. Springy wet weather still holds here. 51 F, sunshine is having it way, but clouds are galloping in, narrowing the sun’s effect, filtering the light, darkening the day. Rain is expected. ‘They’ say our high will be 68 F. That’s what we were told yesterday. 61 F was the highest effort clocked at our house.

Quite a Hands-off turn out on April 5, 2025. These were protests against Trump’s policies and actions thus far. He’s been racing into oligarch/dictator mode since Jan. 20 of 2025. That’s when he uttered, “I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.” Since then, he’s been doing anything but that. He’s ignored judges and rulings against him. He’s deported people without due process and is ignoring our system of checks and balances. So people went out there and spoke up to tell him that they don’t approve. Initial estimates said 3.5 million turned out. That’s been upgraded to 5 million.

I believe Trump went golfing in response.

BTW, Trump said in an interview that the protests have got to stop. Which means, they must be kept going.

The Neurons have parked “I’m Bad, I’m Nationwide” by ZZ Top in the morning mental music stream. That song was brought out of my mind’s dusty recesses when I was thinking about the nationwide protests. Ah, hah! See how clever The Neurons are? ZZ Top are a favorite group of mine. Saw them several times in concert. My enjoyment of them was kicked off with high school art class in 1973, when I was starting my senior year. We were permitted to listen to music as we did our projects. Scott brought in Tres Hombres. I never stopped listening.

Coffee has been re-introduced to my biosphere but more may be needed. Our ginger floof has an appointment to see how he is responding to treatment. Right in the middle of the bloody day. Oh, well. Gotta roll with it. May your day be right in all the good ways. Cheers

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Frieda’s Wandering Thoughts

I’ve been using a secret weapon to amuse me the last few weeks. Two, actually. Both are throwbacks for me.

Tim Dowling is an American living in the UK. He writes a column for the Guardian. I find them hilarious. I used to regularly read him. Then The Neurons dropped him out of the rotation. I never noticed.

I regularly read news in the Guardian. I like their coverage of U.S. news. So, while reading an article a few weeks ago, I saw a reference to the latest Tim Dowling column. Clicking on that, I resumed reading him, catching up on his past columns by reading one everyday.

He’s sixty years old. Married, with three sons. They have just moved out. He also has a dog, cat, and tortoise. He plays in a band and deprecates his playing. Being an animal lover and very fond of cats, I enjoy the tales relating to his household animals the most. Today, I read his column from September of 2023.

Tim Dowling: we’re moving bedrooms – before the cat kills me

My other secret vice — Well, it’s not my only vice. I have a large list of secret vices. It depends on whose morality is used to judge me.

But this vice is watching an old British science fiction show called Red Dwarf. I recently re-discovered it playing on a live TV channel on Prime.

I began watching that show in the early 1990s. I was assigned to Onizuka Air Station then in the San Jose-San Francisco Bay Area. KQED introduced me to Red Dwarf during their science fiction fund-raising marathons.

Red Dwarf is an interstellar mining ship. It’s principally manned by Lister, Rimmer, the Cat, and Kryden. Dave Lister is the last human alive. He was in stasis as punishment for having a cat onboard the Red Dwarf. He stayed in stasis for 3,000,000 years while the radiation levels declined to safe levels.

That was needed because Arnold Rimmer had an accident. The accident resulted in a radiation link that killed all the crew members except Dave Lister. Because Lister was in stasis.

Rimmer and Lister were roomates and worked together. They do not get along. But the computer, Holly, brought Rimmer back as a holograph as a companion for Lister so Lister doesn’t go insane.

Lister isn’t happy about Holly’s decision.

The Cat is a direct descendent of the cat behind Lister’s punishment. Cats have evolved into a sort of human cat variation. He’s a vain, vapid, and selfish character who intensely dislikes Rimmer and is often Lister’s ally.

All manner of science fiction action happens to the Red Dwarf crew. Others species are encountered. Time travel happens. The mail catches up with them. Rimmer believes in order and is ambitious but inept. Lister likes to party but is intelligent and lazy. They plot against one another. Nanobots stage a revolt. All males, they are hungry for female interactions.

Yes, it’s silly. Full of all gaps, contradictions, and plot holes. But it’s fun. Watching it returns me for a bit to when I was thirty years younger and the future looked brighter.

You gotta do something to get through these days, right?

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