Tag: thinking

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: optimistic

Lovely moon out last night. I checked it out about 12:30 AM, when the air quality levels were improved and the temperature hovered about 60 F. Did you see that moon? Part of the perigean moon cycle, it seemed quite large, almost full, and pretty clear for us, meaning only soft marigold brushstrokes marred its clarity.

Now it’s 61 F. Clearish air, with some bluish smoky sky. AQI is better but the smoke smell is there to be sucked up as soon as you step out. Where there is smoke, there’s particulates, and possible respiratory system damages. Myself suffers from an AM stuffy nose and sinuses, and a sore throat. Shot of saline up each nostril helps the first, and a cough drop is sucked on once in a while for the latter.

Today’s high will be in the low 80s. This is Wednesday, August 30, 2023, in Ashlandia, where the children seek advancement, and the parents press for sanity.

Tracking the Hurricane Idalia, worrying about my fellow citizens, and tracking fires, worrying about everyone and everything. Engenders a sense of helplessness to track information and understand how little I can affect the course of activities. But track I must. I want to know what’s going on in a multitude of areas.

All that takes me back to how much I take for granted, which is a testament to the past, where problems were recognized and people worked out solutions. I mean things like highways and roads, fresh water supplies, electricity, the net, the food chain. Not all were perfect and some cause us problems, and because people are invested with how well those solutions work, they refuse to admit their solutions are now problems. Also, money. Security. Power. MSP. Follow the MSP and you’ll learn more than you want to know. I mean, think about how insecure wealthy people must be, if they must keep acquiring more money and power to prop themselves up. It’s a sad sickness.

Hearing about taking things for granted caused The Neurons to bring up Todd Rundgren and “Hello, It’s Me,” from the early 1970s. See, he wrote about and sings, “I take for granted that you’re always there.” So easy to fall into the mind slip of taking people and things for granted, and as I was thinking on that, the song began playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark ancient). I found an interesting stripped down, live version that I hope you enjoy.

I’ve had a half cuppa joe, and the mind has picked up speed. Be strong and stay pos. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Monday’s Wandering Thought

I read about Trump strongholds and the lack of an impact the charges and indictments have on the former president’s supporters. One description struck me more deeply. From the NY Times:

“Among voters who plan to vote for Mr. Trump again, Nicholas Kalamvokis, 58, said he liked the former president’s “regular people” persona and was willing to overlook his role in the events of Jan. 6, which he did not believe rose to the level of a crime.”

The former president’s “regular people” persona is a startling description. Trump has been found to cheat in business, compulsively lie, and demonstrates little self control. Full of pompous bluster, he’s cheated on his wife, has been married three times, shows little intellectual curiosity, and is both demonstrably petty and greedy. As a business person, he has multiple bankruptcies and has led numerous failed business efforts, while his WH administration set a new record for indictments and convictions. Meanwhile, since leaving office, Trump has set records for the most indictments ever levied on a former POTUS, including obstruction of justice as he lied about keeping classified information and tried hiding the requested documents from the government.

Liar. Thief. Cheat. Immoral. Unethical. Untrustworthy.

If this is a typical Republican’s view of ‘regular people’, their attachment to reality is more tenuous than I ever imagined, and I wouldn’t want to hang out with their ‘regular people’. Then again, I suspect that people like Kalamvokis live in an information bubble. The light seems different in there from the light with which I view the world.

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Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts

Monday found me helping my wife deliver food to elderly, incapacitated, and disabled people, part of a community effort. Someone does it everyday Monday through Friday. Meals are provided for weekends and holidays on request as part of the system.

We were delivering six frozen meals to a new person on the route. We were instructed to call him first, to let him know we were on the way. He came out of his house as we pulled into his driveway. Obese, on oxygen, in a wheelchair, he looked about fifty years old, at least ten years younger than me.

Sad and shocked, I wondered about the circumstances of luck, genetics, work, and habits that brought the guy to that point. Most of life seems like a lottery, and the health lottery seems like the cruelest and most random of all.

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Wednesday’s Wandering Thought

A Tiger Swallowtail butterfly landed on a butterfly bush’s long purplish panicle as he approached the plant on his walk. Such a Zen moment, he felt forced to pause for consideration of the scene. Then the butterfly and he moved on, as though neither were ever there, leaving the bush standing alone and patient once again.

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Monday’s Wandering Thoughts

Just finished with our monthly food and friends deliveries. Run by the county, it’s a thing where hot meals with milk and dessert is delivered free for people’s lunch. They don’t need to be sick nor elderly; they just need to have a home, even if it’s temporary. Clients can chose to pay, if they’re able. Monday-Friday are the delivery days. Clients can decide which days they want it. Frozen meals can be added to cover holidays and weekends. My wife and I do one route, but it’s one of many routes, and two of many volunteers. One friend does it twice a week, every week. Respect.

I always end up wondering how people reached this point in their lives and what were they like before. I wonder about their relationships, marriages and divorces, careers and schooling, where they were born, how they came to be here in Ashlandia, and if they have family. Ours is a small route, normally nine to fourteen people. Some are temps but others have received food assistance for years. When their name is dropped from the ranks, we wonder what happened to them. Sometimes we learn, and it’s what’s expected, they passed away. Other times, they’ve gone into assisted living somewhere, hospice, or moved in with family.

I’ve seen others can do this path. Most of us in the US are on it. My mother-in-law’s route was through Parkinson’s Disease. Then a fall really undermined all aspects of her coping mechanisms, leading to a long demise. While Mom and her BF don’t have meals deliver, visualizing a day when that happens is easy. He’s in his nineties, she’s in her eighties. Both have health issues but cope. Still, they’re declining.

I even see myself on that road. I’ve suddenly gained weight. Energy level has dropped. Lethargy has risen. I see a practitioner, and they sympathize but empathize, I’m in good health. Hypertension and enlarged prostate is all that afflicts me. What I’m feeling is just the general demise of aging. It surprises me because that’s not what I’m used to being like. I have a hard time accepting it.

I imagine all the rest are the same, wondering, what in the hell happened to me?

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Thursday’s Wandering Thought

A new electronic traffic message sign was up, warning me of a delay ahead. Bare orange, very functional design, basically just whatever was needed to hold up the big black sign with its electronic orange characters to give the message.

Sort of surprising. I thought with all the naming/advertising frenzy going on, with companies buying the rights to naming stadiums and other facilities, buying the rights to name a construction sign or advertise on it would be a no-brainer. “You deserve a break today. Stop at McDonald’s after you’re through this mess.” Then Micky D can add two golden arches to the sign.

More inventive and creative types will go the old Burma Shave route.

“You’re trapped in a car. Surrounded by tar. Fortunately for you, Starbucks isn’t far.”

What names would you expect to see advertising on or naming electronic traffic message signs?

“Orange cones put you in mind of anything? Dairy Queen is ready.”

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Twins

After leaving the garage, he looked down the street. There, in the middle, was a doe with her twin fawns. Appearing almost brand new, they were adorable. He called his wife out so she could see. Watching together as the doe and her fawns came up the street — mama walking slow, the fawns galloping in spurts — they wondered if she was the same doe who’d been hanging around their yard.

After the family disappeared behind the neighbor’s house across the street, he left in his car. Arriving at a stop light, he saw a mother with her twins on a bicycle. Wearing helmets, blond curls sticking out, the twins looked like they were about two years old, tiny perfect human replicas.

It was a good day for twins. It felt like the world was making a statement. As often with the world’s statements, he just wasn’t certain what the statement was.

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Thursday’s Wandering Thoughts

After taking some meds, he learned again that if some is good, more isn’t always better. The rule of moderation was proven again. The question for everyone, with everything, was always, what constitutes moderation? Difficulty comes because it changes with age, health, and circumstances. Re-consideration and adjustments are often required.

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