Tag: spirit

Friday’s Theme Music – Pretending

Ashland, southern Oregon — Friday, July 3, 2026.

Hot is the word for today. 90 is our expected high. It’s sunny but windy, with a blue sky coping with several blue clouds.

It’s funny to me how Papi awakens me every morning at about 5:50. Today was a little later, 5:57. I wonder about the little clock in his head. More correctly, it seems to be a stomach alarm. “More food, please, hurry.” Which I do. Which he probably wouldn’t ask for if this habit hadn’t been established. Which came about with previous cats and my work schedule. Some things endure change. *smile*

I was looking at the area weather statistics for June. Although we ended on a cool streak, we were 2.5 degrees above average for the month. There were no days when we exactly hit the average.

My body, mind, and spirit feel very strong today. Thank you to everyone who took time to send me positive energy. Send it to others now more in need, please, as I’m doing good.

There’s no escaping Trump today. He’s encountered most days in this era, lying, gloating, boasting, mocking, demeaning. Too often, there’s an announcement accompanied by his smirking visage, and I just respond, ugh.

We have the terrible circumstances that a wealthy man interested only in himself ‘leading’ the government as we celebrate our nation’s beginnings. It feels like a low point. Yes, we’ve been polarized and demoralized before as a country. There have been scandals like Watergate, Contragate, Teapot Dome. There’s been crises like the Cuba Missiles Crises, and so many, many wars. Disasters were endured; pandemics. Assassinations. I didn’t live through many of these and rely on reports others made. I’m living through this, though, and I don’t like it.

What is funny is how fast and consistently MAGA pivots to cover Trump. They embrace his explanations and excuses, ignore his broken promises, and dismiss his lies and convictions in court as meaningless. As they depress me, I turn further and further away from their concerns…

In many ways, I think MAGAts are pretending that Trump speaks for them. They’re pretending that life under him is what they voted for and wanted. They pretend that he’s not misleading them, dismissing them, forgetting them as he grows wealthier and they often grow poorer. Weaker. Sicker.

The real question is, how will they feel when Trump is gone and their situation is not better for any of them except the wealthy? Who will they blame? Where will they turn?

As Trump is already ranked at or near the bottom of historic ratings, I believe that the Trump Era will gain a place in our nation’s history as a dark, low time.

With those of pretending populating my thoughts, The Neurons cranked up “Pretending” in the morning mental music stream. Eric Clapton wrote and recorded it but Jerry Lynn Williams wrote it. With lines like these, it feels right for this Trumpishly diminished day:

“How many times must we tell the tale? How many times must we fall? Living in lost memory you just recall.”

“That’s when I knew she was pretending. Pretending to understand.”

May you find joy and peace in your hours today, happiness in your night, and love in your heart.

Coffee is at hand again. Time to write. Cheers

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Tuesday’s Theme Music – One More Time

Ashland, southern Oregon — Tuesday, June 2, 2026.

It’s clear skies and sunshine for us today. 66 degrees now, the high will be found in the 80s F. Some say 81, another contingent claims 88. We’ll see.

Oh, the Mom front. She ran out of her pain patches. They’re by prescription so she must see her doc for them. She didn’t have an appointment, and they don’t have an opening until early August. It’s concerning that with all the doctors she’d recently seen, no one ever thought to say, how are your pain patches?

Then she fell over backward in her wheelchair the other day. Hit her head. She’s been complaining of headaches since. Yet, that morning when it happened, she refused to get taken to the hospital. Today, it became a must. Now sis is at the ER with her and we’re in wait and see mode.

Poor sister, too. She’s already busy, working, meeting with the realtor to sell Mom’s house, selling and giving away Mom’s furnishings and possessions, taking care of her grandchildren, and here she is, summoned back to pick up Mom, take her to the hospital, wait with her, await next steps…

Locally, I’m perplexed and pleased with a credit union project. Bring a bag of papers to be shredded and three cans of food, and they’ll shred it for you. Sounds great! I went through our papers, filled a bag, and bought three cans of food to donate.

I’m irritated because the credit union has two locations in our town. One is a half mile away; the other is almost two. Yet, to participate in this offer, I need to drive almost twenty miles to Medford to participate.

Makes little sense. Why not do it in an Ashland location as well as a Medford location? Why make so many people waste energy and pollute the air to drive that distance?

Then there’s the Trump front. Paul Krugman had commentary about Trump’s apparent mental and physical decline, and the enablers in DC and in business who support, cover, and front for him. For all, it seems to be, “What’s in it for me?” I don’t know if that’s true or reductivism. I think the truth is on a spectrum somewhere in between. Whatever their reasoning, I remain disappointed that so many seem eager to limit voting and embrace norms that seem to favor creating a Christian white nation.

Trump’s Iran war remains on, although a ‘ceasefire’ is in effect. I watched Jordan Klepper conduct interviews with MAGAs who smugly tried to tell us that Iran is a conflict, not a war.

They’re taking clues from right-wing media, the GOP, and Trump himself. Trump reminded the nation we’re at war but also said that we’re not at war and that saying we are would get him in trouble. He’s winking at the system of checks and balances, but we as a nation have been doing this for a long time as well.

At the bottom of my disgust at this mess remains the huge challenge: how do we fix our flaws? Can we fix them? Can we at least mitigate them enough to feel comfortable with calling ourselves a land of freedom and equality and a democratic republic. Because right now, those claims are very, very thin to me.

It didn’t begin when the Roberts Court decided that Trump as POTUS could be above the law. It began long before that, with small drips. We let the drips go. Now the foundation is showing rot and we’re wringing our hands about what to do.

To make myself feel a little better without drugs and alcohol, I turned to Nate Silver’s latest findings on Trump’s popularity.

“Today, Donald Trump’s net approval rating is sitting at -19.1 in the Silver Bulletin average. That’s less popular than Joe Biden was at this point in his term (-13.6) and less popular than Trump himself was during his first term (-10.6).

“About 48 percent of Americans strongly disapprove of Trump’s job performance. Just 21.7 percent strongly approve of the job he’s doing, while another 17.2 percent only somewhat approve.

As we wrote about over the weekend, Trump’s approval rating is even underwater in Texas.” 

“Trump is less popular than President Biden.”

Just wanted to highlight that for Trump.

Your Trump Quote of the Day:

It’s worth posting this quote again because it completely captures Trump’s attitude AND his base. He called it right, and we see it playing out over and over.

I have “One More Time” by Daft Punk in the morning mental music stream. A dance song, it’s actually a celebration of things, but it hit my stream because I muttered ‘one more time’ to myself as I checked texts from home and read the news.

I hope your mood is up and your day goes well. I hope the best for us all. I guess the challenge for that is agreeing what that is.

Cheers

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Ashland, Oregon — Sunday, February 22, 2026. Sunshine washes mountain conifers and hardwoods as ominous clouds float away, revealing a hazy blue sky. 51 degrees now, a 56 F high is projected.

Papi is enjoying the wind-free sunshine, soaking it up like his body was starving for it, then rolling around on the patio.

It’s quieter back east this morning as Mom tries again to reset everyone’s relationship with her back to what it was a month ago. She’s trying to engage allies to move her back home; all of her offspring agree, sorry, Mom, but where you’re at is the best situation for you. It’ll take a long time for Mom to accept that.

On top of that, though, sis reports that she’s sick today. While the stress didn’t help, neither did her daughter’s illness. It’s going around, and sis’s daughter didn’t take precautions to avoid contaminating others. Sigh.

News headlines were about an armed man being shot and killed at Mar-a-Lago and Trump raising tariffs, among others. The basic scan reveals a chaotic but quiet Sunday morning.

This is our new norm as Trump challenges norms and ignores lawful processes and limits, such as firing James W Hundley. The Trump administration failed to follow the process to have an AG appointed for Eastern Virginia. A law covers that contingency, and the Virginia judiciary followed that law, appointing Hundley. The Trump Administration promptly fired him without cause, despite him being legally appointed. And so, another legal battle ensues.

Just think, it was only a year ago that DOGE was spreading a swath of destruction across the federal government. We’re still learning the ramifications. Trump may consider himself the peace president and a uniter, but I see him as the President of Chaos, sowing and encouraging it, to no one’s benefit but his own.

It’s interesting to remember, too, that Trump first promised to ‘declassify’ the Epstein files while campaigning in June of 2024. Then he dismissed it as a hoax. Since then, We the People notice a continuous pattern that he delays and distracts. Meanwhile, in Europe, real justice is being pursued. They are setting the standard that the United States needs to follow. Although I do note that right now, they’re going after the former prince for divulging information and not other crimes, but other crimes are being investigated.

Sensing my mood, The Neurons have plucked Rush out of memory and put “Working Man” in the morning mental music stream. This is a song that says to me, you gotta keep doing what you need to do. That’s about how I feel for today. Press on regardless.

Lyrics h/t Genius.com

It seems to me I could live my life
A lot better than I think I am
I guess that’s why they call me
They call me the workin’ man

Let’s give a shout out to peace and grace, see if we can get them back into our lives and move forward into a better existence.

Cheers

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Amazing Chakra Dream

Here’s what I remember of this dream — but I ‘sense’ there was something more before this part.

A light purple light flashed, almost like lightning.

I said to myself, I need to align and balance my chakras.

Then I said, no, I need to heal my chakras.

Instantly, I was at the beginning of this huge music festival. The sun was shining. Young, I was part of a crowd of hundreds of thousands eagerly rushing in to hear the music, which was just beginning on stage.

I woke up thinking, wow. My entire body felt like it’d been given a huge boost of energy.

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At Its Best

Sunlight streams in through the open blinds. Winter snow melts away as light clouds cruise through a blue field.

My wife sits up. “This would be a good day for our roasted veggie soup.”

The roasted vegetable soup is all about potatoes, carrots, broccoli, and garlic. After quartering, cubing, slicing, the veggies are rubbed with salt, pepper, olive oil, and turmeric roasted at 425 degrees. Rubbed with oil and housed in foil, the garlic is roasted with them.

When the vegetables are done roasting thirty-five minutes later, the garlic cloves are released and added to the vegetables. They all go into a big pot. Two quarts of mushroom broth is added. Boil, then simmer or thirty minutes.

As they boil, biscuits are rolled out and baked.

Such wonderful smells flavor the air. This is when our house is at its best as a home.

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Satyrdaz Theme Music

Dreary sunshine and bleached skies say hello when Papi and I step out to inspect the morning. It’s 49 F in Ashlandia today, Satyrda, October 4, 2025. A high of 60 is anticipated. The furnace was turned on to dispel some of the morning chill, as it was just 67 F in the house. Despite these clouds, rain is not a worry for us. Personal note, today is the 51st anniversary of when I swore my oath to defend the Constitution in the U.S. military.

All my appointments went very well Thursday. Texted Mom to tell her we’re coming to Pittsburgh for her 90th birthday. She says she’s looking forward to seeing us but is busy painting the kitchen cupboards right now. Dad remains in rehab in Texas. Spoke to him, and he was in terrific spirits and sounded strong, healthy, and alert.

Trump’s Venezuelan body count is 21 after U.S. missiles destroyed another boat. That’s number four. What’s the body count over/under for a Nobel Peace Prize?

The Weariness Meter is in the upper ranges today. I feel I’m flagging over the news. Think I’ll take a time out from keeping up to date. That general malaise striking me had me thinking about past and present. 1974, when I graduated from high school and joined the military, still appears as a decent year when I look back through time’s long lens. This year, 2025, feels like a terrible year on multiple levels. Reflections have me treading on a path of thought about how much we’ve regressed in my lifetime. Most of that came in the last 20 years. Hell, most of it came with Trump’s takeover of the White House in 2025. Much of it is due to Russ Vought and Project 2025 and their effective use of Trump as a dupe.

The Neurons decide to cheer me up with “Here’s Where the Story Ends” by Sundays in my morning mental music stream. Sample lyrics for you from Songfacts.com.

Crazy I know, places I go
Make me feel so tired
I can see how people look down
I’m on the outside

Oh, Here’s where the story ends
Ooh, Here’s where the story ends

It’s that little souvenir of a terrible year
Which makes my eyes feel sore
And who ever would’ve thought the books that you brought
Were all I loved you for
Oh the devil in me said go down to the shed
I know where I belong
But the only thing I ever really wanted to say
Was wrong, was wrong, was wrong

It’s that little souvenir of a colorful year
Which makes me smile inside
So I cynically, cynically say the world is that way
Surprise, surprise, surprise, surprise, surprise

Here’s where the post ends. Hope grace and peace pop up for us someday soon. Got my coffee. Time to motor. Cheers

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Mundaz Wandering Thoughts

I’ve often stated that I write to help me understand what I think. Writing is a process that forces me to slot things into a more coherent order. That process helps me dig up what’s really bugging me below the surface of my reactions.

I spent time yesterday walking and then writing myself a letter. It was almost like meditating for me, with surprising results. Turned out that I was angrier, more frustrated, and more depressed than I realized. Baring it all to myself helped me shed those things and reinvigorate myself. Some of the anger was irrational, railing at life for the afflictions happening to friends and family. Some, on a deeper level, were revelations to myself about how I perceived others and my relationships with them.

But once again, writing came through for me. I’m happy with the outcome. Purging my psyche of that anger and depression lifted my spirits and restored my energy levels.

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Fridaz Wandering Thoughts

Dad and I spoke for almost an hour today. The conversation energized me, boosting my mood into a happier place. On the surface, a high percentage can be attributed to relief: Dad was home. No greater problems were found during his latest hospital visit, and it was a short one. He and his wife were both friendly, engaging, and happy on their end. Undoubtably this fed me and my spirits.

I also insist, though, that some of this came from just speaking with Dad. He and I are familiars. We mock and respect one another. He’s one of the few people I sense I can really spill myself to regarding what’s going on, whether it’s politics, writing, relationships with my wife, Mom, and sisters, or my DIY projects.

We’ve not always been like these. It’s been a long evolution. I’m glad we made it here, though. It’s taken time. We followed a torturous path. But here we are.

Finally.

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