Tag: risk

Wenzdaz Theme Music

Thunderstorms are on the way today, Wenzda, July 30, 2025. Worry has cranked up throughout the region. Thunderstorms equal lightning, wildfires, and smoke. Fingers crossed, knock on wood, etc., that we’re spared.

Meanwhile, it’s a blue sky lovely day. 74 now, heading toward 90 F. Texting with my sister in PA. She tells me it’s humid and close to 100 F there today. Everyone working outside are guarding against heatstroke. One of her husband’s co-workers was hospitalized for dizziness and high blood pressure.

Tsunami warning were given for Pacific coasts last night after a massive earthquake was detected off the coast of the Kamchatka Peninsula. My friends and I were familiar with that territory from playing Risk, but then there was a spy plane incident which cemented it in my memories. Fortunately, back to the tsunami warnings, little damage has been reported so far. Tsunamis called to mind the disastrous ones which hit Japan and destroyed a nuclear power plant in Marh of 2011, and the Christmas tsunami which nailed Thailand, Indonesia, and that region of Asia, killing hundreds of thousands of people. Nature’s power is stunning. Of course, in an aside, that’s why the United States and other nations worked together to create monitor and warning systems. That required international trust and cooperation, and the Trump Regime is actively undermining such work, unilaterally withdrawing the U.S. from alliances and agreements, and cutting funding, either directly, or through the termination of grants to universities and organizations.

Today’s music is a dream gift. “Who Invited You” is by The Donnas. I’m familiar with the group mostly because a friend listened to them. I lived in the Bay area in the 1990s and worked in Palo Alto, where The Donnas originated. My friend, a co-worker, burned CDs for me of several groups she liked, including the Squirrel Nut Zippers, Violent Femmes, and The Donnas. The dream part had me awakening from a dream just after I’d opened a door and someone asked me, “Who invited you in?” That dream moment, which I call a ‘dreament’, snapped back to me when I intercepted a spider coming in the front door after I opened to receive some cooling morning air. Asking it, “Who invited you in?”, the dream moment swiveled into focus and The Neurons hastened The Donnas into the morning mental music stream.

Hope all you jazz cats have a hip day. This coffee cat is downing his caffeine juice. Then into cutting grass and trimming bushes before the heat bellows in. Cheers

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The Waves Dream

I was in water, which seemed to be an ocean or sea. Others were in the water, which was a light aquamarine in color. An azure sky ruled. Waves licked and tumbled over flat, white, sandy beaches.

The warm water wasn’t up to my waist, but reached the bottom of my trunks, which were flowers on dark green. I soon noticed the water was rising. I couldn’t figure out why. Others didn’t seem to notice, or maybe just weren’t commenting. As the water rose over my waist, I decided to go ashore.

I found I couldn’t. The waves weren’t any more threatening but strong currents were dragging me further into the water. It was happening to everyone. All were struggling to keep from being taken out to sea.

I tried fighting the current and lost. Then I thought, maybe I could go with the current and then break free and return to land via another direction. I quickly learned that wasn’t feasible.

The water was up to my neck. It was warm and comfortable but frightening as I coped with a fear that I could drown. I tried again striking out for the shore but ended up with water up to my chin and splashing into my mouth.

I dove under. The water was darker and colder. I kicked out and then started using my arms, swimming underwater, taking whatever the currents let me. I wasn’t sure what direction I was going or where the land was. The water kept growing darker and colder.

I came free. I don’t know how or where. I suddenly found myself striding over volcanic rocks, sputtering water and gasping for air. I was on land but didn’t know how I’d made it. Looking back for the beach, I found it. The water was still that pleasant aquamarine with light waves, but darkening clouds had gathered overhead.

Dream end.

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D.H. Said

Personally, I think many writers worry about where they’re going to land, so they avoid jumping over the edge. It is safer, but it doesn’t take you very far.

You have to make that jump, whichever one that you see holding you back.

Yes, I am addressing myself.

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Pocket Change

Some loose thoughts rattling around in my mind’s pocket.

  • Trivial Pursuit was released on this day in 1979. My wife and I love the game. We eat at Brothers, where old cards are on the table so we can ask and answer the questions. Trivial Pursuit replaced Risk as my preferred game. My friends and I used to have monstrous Risk parties when I was stationed at Kadena AB. Empire became my favorite computer. It ruled for a few years during my Germany tour.
  • The Risk and Empire parties always featured beer, wine and cigars. Risk was an iffier proposition where beer was considered. We were on Okinawa. This was the early 1980s. There weren’t many great beer offerings. My friends drank Miller Lite. Gads. I was always searching for something. We didn’t have this problem in Germany, where plenty of decent beers of all preferences were available.
  • I was a great cigar smoker back in those days. Churchills were favorites but I liked Madura wraps.
  • My beer group met last night. We collect money from our weekly meetings to donate to local STEM efforts. Last night, two representatives from Southern Oregon Area Robotics came and collected $500 from us and give us an update about their progress, victories, plans and losses. This money helps them with material and transportation costs as they compete in robot competition.
  • One of the SOAR students last night is graduating high school this year and will be attending design schools. She loves designing cars. I love car designs and my friends do not, so it was terrific to discuss the Ferrari J50, BMW i8 and other designs with her.

  • You always need to figure out how they like it. Maybe it’s just me, as a buddy at Onizuka Air Station used to say, but cats don’t all like to be petted the same way. Tucker enjoys a good belly stroke but you must first follow certain protocols to be permitted belly access. Deviations can be dangerous. Whereas DO NOT TOUCH BOO ON THE BELLY. I repeat, DO NOT TOUCH BOO ON THE BELLY.  Don’t attempt to scratch his chin, either. We don’t know what happened in Boo’s past life, but he’s tremendously leery of being touched and he will attack you without any warning, so I’m warning you. Yet, someone will always try.
  • Quinn, on the other hand, is a little love bug, throwing himself down at your feet, visiting with strangers on the street, whatever. He’s a happy little loving cat.
  • A decent dark beer remains absent from our beer offerings where we meet each week. The porter on hand has a cream soda flavor that we detest. Enduring wasn’t a problem, as we imbibed the most excellent Ashland Amber Ale from Caldera and Ninkasi  Tricerahops DIPA. As always, the conversation was interesting and the time was gone as fast as the beer.
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Liberated!

I’ve been mentally hemming and hawing, doing an aw shucks shuffle self-effacing, anxious shuffle off to one side, afraid of being in the spotlight, afraid of being ignored by the spotlight, and frightened that if the spotlight finds me, it will illuminate all my shortcomings, limitations and errors.

I’m a person of hypocrisies and conflicts, dreams, judgments, anxieties, hopes, optimism, and pessimism. I’m trying to let go, hang on, and move ahead. Ultimately, I have accepted myself as a failure. That’s important, and reassuring. And it’s a lie.

I don’t consider myself a failure (at the moment, although that can change in a moment). But without realizing it, that’s the crux of what’s bothering me the last few days. Publishing another book. Self-publishing, with all its baggage, an epub, with all of its connotations. Some of these perceptions are fossils I acquired in another era, and I know they’re not true on one level, but they’re hard to let go. But sometime yesterday, I literally said, “Fuck it.” I was speaking to myself, and allow myself to use such language with myself and around myself. So, “Fuck it,” I said. “Publish it. You’ve done your best. Will there be errors? Maybe. But maybe not. Will people like it? Maybe. But maybe not. But what will happen if you don’t publish? You will stew and fester and keep re-living the pro and cons of the possibilities. So, fuck it. Do it.”

I feel much better now.

At least, today.

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