Mundaz Wandering Thoughts

My wife and I had a minor disagreement the other day.

I had surgery to repair a ruptured tendon last year, in October, 2024. I’ve had pain of various kinds since then. One source of pain was along toes three to five, which was often stiff with burning pain. I’d mentioned it to my surgeon, as it began during my convalescence from surgery. He said that it sounds like a nerve was damaged. I felt the same. Although I’m not a medical expert or doctor, etc., I broke and dislocated a wrist in my late twenties. Pins casts immobilized that wrist and arm. I suffered from a burning, painful sensation along the pin sites after they were removed. My doc back then told me it was probably nerve damage. It did go away after about twenty years. This foot pain felt just like that pain.

While walking the other day, I felt a sudden sharp and painful snap in my foot where the toe pain resides. After gasping and slowing for a second, I resumed walking. Lo, that foot pain was gone. It hasn’t come back.

I was so elated. I went home and told my wife. She responded, “Why is this the first that I’m hearing about this?”

One, it wasn’t the first she was hearing about it. She’d forgotten me mentioning it, but I spoke about in early January of this year. I don’t blame her for forgetting it. We don’t remember everything we’re told.

Two was a broader philosophical position. Basically, I don’t tell her about every pain I endure. I’m aging, and have pains from time to time. Feet, ankle, hips, neck, shoulder, back, abdomen, eyes, etc. Those pains often go away. Their duration can last anywhere from a few hours to a week. Sometimes they limit movement, and more rarely limit my activities. My point is, pain comes and goes. I prefer to not complain. And then means, to me, not mentioning.

And there’s a little history in that. Number one was Mom. Mom as a mother often told us to stop crying, stop whining, stop complaining. She wanted us to be happy children. If we couldn’t be happy, she wanted us to be quiet.

Then there’s history with my wife about this. Long ago, when I was twenty, I was severely sick for several days. We didn’t see doctors back then for things like that. Basically vomiting, not eating, listless, sweating a lot, lot of pain. That pain resulted in some moaning and groaning.

Yeah, I got over it and lived. But about a year later, my wife was speaking to others and talked about what a baby I was when I was sick and hurt. That insulted and angered me. I told her so when we were alone. It since became a theme for her to talk about how often men complain about being sick or hurt when women are so much hardier, and more willing to endure. I finally mentioned to my wife that I disliked this reductivism about men and pain. She’s done it off and on since, and once, after seeing me give her a look when she made such a statement, apologized and claimed that she wasn’t including me. Since then, she’s slowly drifted out of the habit.

But this is how we evolve. We have our basic attitudes and tendencies, and then we react to our environment. Part of that is how we react to what we hear. What is said about us, especially by those we love, admire, and trust. Maybe I’m being thin-skinned, but words matter. Part of my problem, too, is that I seem to have a very strong memory. I don’t easily forget or forgive.

I guess that’s my bottom line.

The Passing Moments

Watch the spiral

Sigh and mourn

Think about all that’s happened

Since the day you were born

Remember the places

Where you visited and stayed

The people you played with

The ones who led the way

And the music that you knew

How you sang and played along

Never quite realizing

That time would soon be gone

You lived like it was forever

Sometimes you still do

Thinking about the past and future

Wondering about what is true

Mundaz Wandering Thoughts

Got my new computer. Ordered it online from Costco. Just a small laptop, nada fancy. Was supposed to be delivered tomorrow but made it in today. Two hours of clicking and it was set up and running, all settings, passwords, docs, etc., transferred between the old machine and the new. Typing this on the new peach.

All of that reminded me of the ancient times when new computers were received. Hard drives had to be partitioned and formatted. OS loaded, followed by programs, security, net connections, and so on. In the distant floppy days, disc after disc would be inserted to do these things. Hours would saunter by.

So, tech, you know? Progress. So much easier. Reminds me of the old stories about washing clothes told by Mom, starting cars related by Dad, using landline telephones, etc. Who knows, though? Maybe under PINO TACO, we’ll revert back to all that tedium.

After all, he has a bizarro sense of progress.

Other Than That

I’m curious about life after death.

I’m curious about life before life. I’m curious about how life began. I’m curious about how our planet will end.

I’m curious about why we exist, if we exist.

I’m curious about reality.

I’m curious about what my parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents were like as children. I’m curious about how my ancestors came to the United States. I’m curious about their lives before then.

I’m curious about life on Mars and other planets. I’m curious about the nature of the universe, the nature of energy, the nature of time, and quantum physics.

I’m curious about what is faster than the speed of light and if we will ever find that out.

I’m curious about what life would be like on an atom.

I’m curious about Zeno’s Paradox and other paradoxes and thought experiments.

I’m curious about how technology affects our brains and societies.

I’m curious about what life was like on Earth three thousand years ago.

I’m curious about what we’ll be like in another thousand years.

I’m curious about the dark side of the moon and the far side of the galaxy.

I’m curious about Earth’s first years.

I’m curious about the psychology of people. I’m curious about why the wealthy and powerful want or need more wealth and power. I’m curious about what causes such hatred in some people and why anger and hatred drive people to kill others. I’m curious about why others can be so indifferent to people’s suffering and children starving.

I’m curious about what it is that makes some people so brilliant.

I’m curious about why I struggle to remember scientific words.

I’m curious about charisma.

I’m curious about how the human body works, and how animal bodies work, and fish and birds and plants.

I’m curious about what rocks think and remember.

I’m curious about why we need to sleep and why we dream.

I’m curious about what my dreams mean.

I’m curious about what my cats are thinking when they look at me.

I’m curious about what my wife is thinking, feeling, planning, and remembering. I’m curious about what she really thinks of me.

I’m curious about why art, music, and literature can move me so deeply.

I’m curious about why I like coffee so much.

I’m curious about why I and others are driven to write fiction and tell stories.

I’m curious about the truth behind our world history.

I’m curious about what happened to Atlantis and other ancient places and peoples.

I’m curious about mystery spots and the illusions behind them.

I’m curious about what makes some people so wildly successful while other talented people work hard and remain in the shadows.

I’m curious about fate and destiny and the future and the past.

I’m curious about what the first people who looked up and saw stars thought.

I’m curious about why, what, how, and when.

Other than that, I remain a pretty incurious person.

Wenzdaz Theme Music

Ashlandia won the early hours with cool air and warm sunshine. My snout detects just a little congestion-inducing smoke. Wenda, July 23, 2025, will be 91 F at the top end, and thirty degrees less on the low side.

I find it hilarious how angry Trump gets when someone talks of him and Jeffrey Epstein. His rage increases and he snaps, “Fake news!” whenever someone talks about Epstein being at Trump’s second marriage. Add in talk of photographs of Trump and Epstein and the mango sloth goes indandescent. He doesn’t want his secret history with Epstein discussed. Nor does he want reminded about how he and Epstein were besties forever, BFFs.

Trump rages over newly surfaced photos of Epstein at president’s second wedding

That Trump can’t sanely discuss it and reflect upon his past with Epstein could be a manifestation of shame and guilt, or a painful reminder to himself and MAGAland that Trump isn’t the great person he’s trying to pretend he is. Just saying. Some folks think it’s all more evidence that Trump is in danger of becoming ‘undone’.

‘In danger of coming undone’: Analyst says Epstein crisis exposed 2 key problems for Trump

My problem with that is it makes the basic, flawed assumption that Trump hasn’t already come undone. Just look at how he’s talking and acting. Sure, it’s worsening but he’s been pretty undone for a while. Maybe we’re looking at the final undoing. Time will tell.

Thinking about Donald Trump and the secret history he has with Jeffrey Epstein and the photographs of the two BFFs hanging out and having a good time invited The Neurons to recall this 1973 Ringo Starr song, “Photograph”. A simple song, I think The Neurons made a fitting choice for Wenzdaz Theme Music.

Have the best Wenzda you can. I’m gonna try for the same. Coffee is juicing the system for me. Here we go. Cheers

Saturda’s Wandering Thoughts

An elderly woman asked for my help at the coffee shop yesterday. She’s another coffee shop regular. I’ve seen her here for several years. By observing and eavesdropping, I knew where she lived, what she drove, her previous occupation, her standard order, and her name.

She’s named Sandy. As I helped her, she said, “I was an elementary school teacher.”

I replied, “What a coincidence! I used to go to elementary school.”

She laughed.

I’m thinking of Sandy today because I’m reflecting on Mom. Mom is 89; Sandy is 82. I’ve witnessed Mom’s decline over the past decade. I’ve seen Sandy declining over the past two years. She used to have no problem walking. Always a diminutive person, she seems smaller, thinner, and weaker, and struggles to stand, sit, and walk. Terrible to see.

It affects me because I’m also seeing such a decline happening in my wife. It’s surreal because I’ve had many more medical emergencies and don’t attend to my health as my wife does. I generally bounce back from whatever I endured. Yes, my bounce is not as high these days, and it takes more bounces to get back to close to what I was. My wife, though, is slowing and weakening. She often loses her balance. Her diet and activities are becoming so limited.

All of this reminds me of how impermanent things are. This is true of products, societies, our bodies, our existence. Ground Penetrating Radar finds forgotten settlements. We come across photographs of relatives we never knew about. Genetics and genealogy can fill in blanks about who your ancestors were but it’s typically in broad terms. Names, places, occupations, mostly.

It all finally roosts in me as a reminder to not take things for granted, whether it’s success, health, family, or your government. Nothing really lasts forever. Worse, the ending can come without much warning. As in so many other matters, it’s something which I learned before, and then forgot.

A Dream In A Dream

I dreamed I plunged through a blue sky. Arms at my side, I wore a helmet and face plate. Bulleting thousands of feet, I made my hands into fists at the last minute, put my arms straight out in front of me, and crashed into a thickly iced sea. Breaking through the ice, I entered icy indigo water, then celebrated my success. I was meant to break through the ice and knew it could only be done from a great height.

I then awoke in my dream and remembered my ice-breaking sky dive and its outcome, and was pleased again. After that, was up and moving around. Dressed casually, today was my big day. I’d do the ice-breaking dive later that day. For now, I was just tying up loose ends. This was both my last day and my first day. I was crossing an intersection from what I’d been to what I would be.

My spirits were buoyant. Doubt kept flitting through me. Could I really do the ice-breaking dive? It seemed risky and dangerous. I reminded myself that I’d done it in a dream. Did a dream matter? No, but it had not been a dream, but a practice run. I pondered that as I went around outside, across broad green swaths, around copses of trees and small arrangements of modern buildings, often in white,, saying good-byes to others and hello to more.

I worried about some of the things I was leaving behind. These were military matters, such as readiness reports. But I told myself, that was their problem, not mine. I also didn’t think they did those things the same way that I did them. So, no, don’t worry, I told myself. Time to move on.

And that’s where the dream stopped. Or at least, my memory of it.

The Black Cat Dream

One of our floofs was a big black cat named Boo. With a stub for his tail, he wandered into our yard one day asking for food, and we welcomed him. He was in good shape so we went looking for his owners. No one ever claimed him.

We lost him to cancer a few years ago but he visited me in a dream last night. He spent time laying beside me purring, looking at me, talking to me. Then he followed me around as I went through the house and out to trim the yard bushes.

Thinking about this dream, I realize there’s a lot of my recent dreams which seem to be about yearning for a time when things were happier, when I was younger, and when the future is brighter.

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: Wetwednestating

October’s penultimate day has arrived. Wednesday, October 30, 2024. Less than a week until the election.

It’s a pretty autumn sunrise, a potpourri offering of soft, long clouds decked in faded blues shading into gray, and puffier masses of white with a brooding gray venture. Blue sky is dabbled in with random ideas. Sunrise flecks through in the east, delivering sunshine, lining some urban pieces of buildings, trees, lines, and poles with decorative golden outlines. They come and go in blinks as clouds restlessly shuffle.

My systems declare that it’s 37 F outside the windows. The high will be 51 F. Maybe 52. Maybe 50.

Papi the ginger blade has gone in and out, his testament to the fact that it’s pleasant but cold. Rain…might be coming but buckets won’t be used for the delivery. Scattered and light, I think it’ll be more like we’re being sprayed with cheap water pistols. The kind we used to buy at GC Murphys. They looked like Lugers. Came in red, yellow, green, and blue. I never saw a purple one.

Happy birthday, Dad! Called him Monday and gave him birthday wishes. Thinking of him with fondness today.

My ankle surgery is scheduled today. I feel good. Slept well. A med team rep called yesterday to update schedules and arrangements. I was informed I could have coffee and water until 8:15 AM. So this morning, I rose, made coffee, and chugged that puppy down. Also drank about sixteen ounces of water. I’m happily wired and hydrated. Getting hungry, though. My stomach is used to being served early. Now it’s raising a grumpy head to mutter about being in need of a little something something. Hush, I tell it. Not today.

I start thinking of Wednesday songs.

“Wednesday I’m in Love”

“Wednesday Afternoon”

“I Don’t Like Wednesdays”

“Wednesday Nights (Alright for Fighting)”

“Wednesday Morning Coming Down”

“Pleasant Valley Wednesday”

Yes, none of those are Wednesday songs. They’re for Fridays, Saturdays, Sundays, Mondays.

Only one Wednesday-themed tune eventually drifts out of memory and breaks through the waves of thinking. Called “Wednesday,” more time is needed to summon bits out of other regions of memory. A melody begins, an instrument is weakly heard, pieces of lyrics pop up. More comes together with a little straining. Suddenly there comes a solid female voice. Identification takes a few more minutes.

Oh. Tori Amos. “Wednesday”. Can’t recall what year. More time passes. I drift into thinking about other matters as the cats ask for treats and my wife and I chat. Then The Neurons begin playing more of the reflective Wednesday ditty in the morning mental music stream (Trademark Wednesday). I finally search online to hunt down the full tune. This vexes Der Neurons. “No, no, give us more time,” they shout. “We’ll get it, we’ll get it.”

I spurn their protests. Sure, they’ll get, but it’ll arrive about two AM. I want it now. Those words briefly trigger Queen singing, “I want it all, and I want it now.”

Stay positive, be fresh, remain calm, and carry on. Coffee has carried me to my happy place. Here’s the music. Remember, vote blue. Have a good Wednesday.

Cheers

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