Tag: travel

Mundaz Theme Music

Munda, January 5, 2026. Fog imposes a grey, wet-looking wall beyond the houses and trees across the street. 37 F is shown on the thermometer and forecasts call for rain and snow, with a ceiling of 38 F forecast. Looks like winter is finally taking an interest in Ashlandia.

I will note that a friend in Alaska was raving about her weather, displaying a thermometer that said it was -2 degrees F. That was the high. She insisted that she prefers it when it stays cold and frozen. According to her, the cycle of warming, melting, and re-freezing is much worse than a steady, consistent freeze. I’ll take her word on that.

My wife and I have been concerned about weather. Videos of king waves slashing the coast and heavy rains and flooding up north and down south worry us. People have been enduring so much foul weather. We’ve been spared but watching the situation, it feels like the storms were slowly pinching in around us. My conspiratorial mind, where I go to harvest ideas, whispers, maybe somebody is controlling the weather.

As we slink into 2026’s first Munda, we’re coping with news that another friend suddenly passed from cancer. More details aren’t yet known. Like Steve, who passed last year, this was another individual we saw at the lake with friends last summer. He seemed fine at the time and didn’t mention any health issues. Just another shock to the system in a cascade of shocks.

As I perused news and texted Mom and Dad’s widow about matters, I told myself to try to be more upbeat and optimistic this week. Weather and the general news tone levels a heavy burden, though.

Considering the weather, I find myself reflecting about Dad more. Born in the 1930s, Dad lived and worked in multiple states and every region. Dad was born in Pennsylvania. Mom was from Iowa, and he met her in either Minnesota or Nebraska.

After my parents married, they lived in Virginia, Texas, and California. He and I lived in West Virginia and Ohio. He was also stationed in the south and in New York and Indiana. Then he moved to Texas and met his third wife, and stayed in Texas.

A poker and pool fan, Dad enjoyed renting an RV and driving from San Antonio in Texas to Laughlin, Reno, and Las Vegas, Nevada. He also rented an RV to visit his other son in Utah. Then the RV was turned east and Dad visited his brother in Kentucky. The next leg was a drive to Georgia so Dad could visit his daughter and grand- and great-grandchildren.

Dad’s wife didn’t go with him. She’d fly to each place and return home! Oh, it’s all so funny to me, and remembering lifts my spirits.

While trying to adjust my mood today, The Neuron suggested a song called “Old Time Rock and Roll”. Bob Seger recorded and released it in 1978. Nothing particularly called me specifically from the lyrics. I appreciate the song’s beat and energy. It’s a good rhythm in the morning music mental stream to kickstart my energy. I’ll also drink some coffee, which will also help.

Hope your day is brighter and warmer than mine. May peace and grace lift your spirits and give us all a shot of optimism. Cheers

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Saturdaz Theme Music

Guess what? It’s a cold and gray, wet and sunny December 6th, 2025, Ashlandia Saturda. The wet is drying, the fog is swirling, the sun is breaking in, and the gray is hanging on. The digital mercury currently rests at 46 F degrees with sunny promises of a 50 F degree high.

Mom and sis battle on. Mom’s mind has taken a turn for the worse, and her behavior has pushed the people living with her to the limit. She’s suddenly paranoid and conspiratorial, making bizarre accusations, and is increasingly hostile and critical, accusing everyone of imaginary slights. Mom has exhibited these traits throughout her adult life. All of her offspring can relate periods of encountering Mom in ‘one of her moods’. This period, which has lasted several days, has driven sis to declare she’ll have nothing to do with Mom any longer. Of course, sis is speaking out of anger, stress, and frustration. Mom has declared that she’ll move back to her house and live alone. “Go for it,” shouted sis, according to sis when we spoke on the phone. We are investigating and discussing trying to get Mom into somewhere else for her living situation.

Today’s song is “Sexcrimes”. This is a 1984 Eurythmics song, full name “Sexcrimes (Nineteen Eighty-Four)”. No idea why The Neurons slotted it into the morning mental music stream this morning. In the kitchen doing breakfast things when it made its appearance. Always sort of an odd song to me, never quite to my preference, but I encountered on the radio back in the day. There is something slightly mesmerizing about it to me, maybe the beat, I suppose.

Read the news last night that the National Parks Service has declared free admission for Trumpy’s birthday. Meanwhile, giving us a massive middle finger, the NPS dropped Juneteenth and MLK Jr’s birthday as holidays with free admission that they’ll recognize. More of that kingliness grace that Trump is imposing on We the People as he defecates on our past collective decisions, history, and heritage. Of course, thanks to Dizzy Donny and the massive staffing and budget cuts under his regime, stories of chaotic situations at national parks are on the rise.

Been thirty days since my gallbladder was removed. Recovering and adjusting seem to be going well. It’s my habit to drink hot water in the morning. This week, I’ve experienced nausea when doing that. From the way it rolls from my abdomen and gathers at the back of my throat by my jaw muscles, most online medical sites tell me it’s not unusual and is most likely because of an irritated Vagus Nerve. As a root cause, that’s not startling. They’ve suggested an overstimulated Vagus Nerve is probably behind my high blood pressure for years. Manuka Honey does settle the nausea.

Coffee has been re-introduced to my biosystems. Hope grace and peace show up someday in the United States again someday. Here we go, into another day.

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Adventures in a Ferrari Testarossa: A Dream Journey

I am driving a Ferrari Testarossa roadster.

Ferrari red, it’s a wide, low vehicle. My wife is my passenger. We’re backing out of a garage. The passenger mirror hits the garage door frame. My wife gasps. I grimace. We finish leaving the garage and see that there is a Ferrari Testarossa mirror-shaped scallop removed from the garage door’s frame. I get out and check the mirror while my wife grumbles. The mirror is there but is upside down. A twist and I fix it, good as new. Nothing wrong with it, which amuses me; the mirror is stronger than the materials bracing the garage door. How funny is that?

We drive for a while at a fast but sedate pace. Then…in a jumbled shift, I’ve driven the Ferrari onto some kind of large transport. It’s like a train without a track, with a living room, kitchen, etc., and the mad chaos of eighteen people, including children. Many of the others there are known to me as actors and musicians, Oscar winners and Hall of Fame rockers. I’m amazed to be with them but also think, “About time.” A young blond Helen Hunt is present, herding three children running around. She’s managing but tells her children with a wicked smile and a gleam at me, “Hang on, children, Mommy has to drive this as fast as she can. It’s going to be hairy. Do you want Mommy to drive fast?”

“Yes,” the children all agree in repeated shouts while I’m agape, accepting, this is what I signed up for but I didn’t know what I was signing up for.

“Okay,” Helen Hunt says, “here we go.” She has a wooden stirring spoon her hand and is standing in the center of a room, children around her, toys strewn across the carpeted room. “Zoom,” she shouts, and thrusts her wooden spoon up.

The vehicle rockets forward. She waves her spoon and it rocks left, right, left. The children are laughing. I’m paralyzed in amazement. But we’re moving.

A conference among others is called and I attend. “Where are we going?” David Niven asks. “We’ll know when we’ll get there,” replies Bruce Willis, and a third who I couldn’t name tags on, “But we have to move fast.”

I offer to drive my Ferrari. It’s faster than this vehicle, so I can pull it along and we’ll get there faster. This is given serious conversation. I’m eager to do this but all decide, hold off for a while, let’s see what progress we make.

I go into another room and sit in a chair. A noise warns me, something is going out. “That’ll bring the ants out,” I think, looking down at the floor. Sure enough, as expected, a phalanx of black and red ants rush across the tiled floor. They’re going to be a bother if they go in the direction they’ve begun so I use a foot to divert their path. More obediently than cats, they turn in the new direction, and some wave thanks to me, because they understand why I diverted them.

David Niven finds me. “There you are. Come on, into the Ferrari. We need more speed. See what you can do.”

In a dream shift, I’m in the Ferrari but I’m alone. Others are hooking up the vessel and then shout, “Go.” The Ferrari is now black, I notice, and wonder when the color changed. Yet, I know it’s my Ferrari. I smashed the gas pedal and take the car up through revs, up through gears, snaking the car around traffic along an undulating and busy Interstate. Looking back, I confirm the vehicle is still being towed. I’m impressed that there’s no wind and little impression of speed. I feel in command, in control. This is a breeze, I think, speeding toward some brightly lit collection of skyscrapers looming larger on the horizon.

Dream ends.

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Twozdaz Wandering Thoughts

I encountered two hotel trends which displease me during my recent travels. Yes, here is your warning: this is a first world rant.

When I was making reservations, I specifically sought a place with a bathing tub. The hotel said they have tubs. My wife has medical issues, and a hot soak in a tub helps alleviate many symptoms.

Guess what the hotel didn’t have when we checked in our room? Yeah, no bathtub. I spoke to them about it. Can we move to a room with a bathtub? Alas, only one room in the hotel’s entire offering has a bathtub.

Say whaaaat?

That hotel, the Courtyard by Marriott, told us we needed to change rooms. They’d made an error. The entire second floor had been promised to another party. We could stay in the room but not use the elevator. Whaaat? So, we left that hotel and moved into the Hampton Inns.

It was much better. Guess what the room didn’t have? Yep, no bathtub. The hotel only has one room with a tub.

Whaaat?

My wife and I had already been aware of this trend toward showers only in hotels. This was the first time it slammed us directly in the face.

I will predict that as this trend spreads, a counter trend will kick up: we have bathtubs! They’ll be advertising the presence of tubs as they once boasted of air conditioning, cable TV, HBO, and free Wifi. Time will tell, of course.

The other disturbing trend was the lack of a ventilation fan in the bathroom. There’s no switch to throw to circulate the air, help clear the air when the room is steamy, or, ahem, help us cope with body functions, if you know what I mean.

According to brief research (I queried search engines), the reasoning behind this: reduce costs. Aesthetics.

But, but, but…what about the customers’ needs?

I’m telling you, it’s just more enshittification.

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Mundaz Wandering Thoughts

I have been reminded of how privileged I am. How easily I succumb to convenience.

I’m back in my regular drive. Mazda CX-5. Nothing fancy, we’ve had it for ten years. It’s packed 64,000 miles around its waist. The thing about this, though, are the automatic creature comfort features. And the key.

When we were visiting family in the Pittsburgh, PA, region, we trundled around in an older Toyota RAV4. Fine car but nothing special. But it lacked things like a key FOB that let me unlock doors just by pressing a button as I walked up to the car. The FOB permits me to start the Mazda without taking the key out of my pocket.

Man, did I miss that. I ended up putting the RAV4 keys in and out, out and in of pockets multiple times across the day. Oh, the horrors, right? But see, this is a matter of connections. With the FOB, I stick it in my left pants pocket and leave it there. With this RAV4 key, I was constantly putting it into a pocket or setting it down somewhere and then asking myself, where is that fucking key?

Wife and I approach car. It’s cold. About 40 F. Gray, with a light drizzle falling.

ME: “Wait.”

“What?”

“I can’t find the key.”

Wife stands, stares, waiting, not tapping her foot but looking like she’s on the verge.

Pockets are patted and felt, squeezed, then reached into it. “Here it is.”

My wife’s restrained look called me IDIOT so loudly, it hurt my brain.

One time I got out of the car to put gas into it. When I returned, it’s like, OMG, where is that damn key? Pat pockets again and again, dive into them…”Oh, here it is.” Damn it.

It was one of those big, long keys on a clunky handle. The key itself could be swung close to make it ‘more compact’. That was good because otherwise that thing gets caught on clothing. You press a button to flick it out, like a switchblade knife. This all required additional thinking about what I was doing, soaking up Neurons’ limited attention.

Me: “Where’s the key?”

Neurons: “We don’t know.”

Me, looking around and feeling pockets. “No one knows?”

Neurons: “We weren’t pay attention.”

Me: “Here it is.”

The button is clicked. The long key extends. I unlock the door. Put the key back into pocket. Get into car. Go to start it by putting my foot on the brake and pressing a button. The button is missing.

Neurons: “Dude, what are you doing?”

Me: “Trying to start the car.”

“You need the key. You must put it in the ignition and turn it.”

“Oh, yeah. Where’s the key?”

Neurons: “We don’t know.”

Thank tech that I’m back home where I just stick the FOB into my pocket and forget it.

I’m very, very good at forgetting.

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Fridaz Wandering Thoughts

Head down, I’m bulling through the story, editing to find the thread and resume my novel writing. I look up to see a man watching me. He delivers a sharp head nod. “Hello.”

I nod back. Smile.

He says, “You were on our flight last night.” He nods toward a blonde woman. Yes, I do recognize them now that they’ve revealed themselves.

“Yes,” I answer, trying to come into the moment.

They’re dressed in costumes. He is a plug. She’s a double outlet. I love it. They wish me happy Halloween and leave.

Then, ’bout an hour later…in come another man and woman.

“Hi,” she says, smiling, nodding. “You were on our flight last night.”

Shivers of deja vu had their way with me. It feels weird to be recognized and remembered like that, twice. I keep thinking, what did I do that made others notice? Drooling while I slept?

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Thirstdaz Theme Music

I pulled the curtains open on our final Monroeville morning. The Neurons sang, “It’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is snoring.”

Yes, rain annoints Thirstda, October 30, 2025. The temp is warmer, though, 46 F. Temp is expected to leap to 48 F. Back in Ashlandia, on the nation’s left coast, 62 F is expected as a high.

Mom is doing well, although stress fractures are starting to appear among her caretakers. Sis and her family are shouldering most of that with help from the other two sisters. But Mom’s care is an almost constant thing as she calls for help, drops things, needs to use the bathroom, needs help dressing, needs her bedding changed and washed, etc. Home health assistance is again being addressed. I think it’s needed but Mom is adamant against strangers helping her. It’ll take time for her to accept that it must be done.

Oh, that Trump. The man who wants the Nobel Peace Prize also thinks the world needs more nukes. He wants to resume nuclear testing. We continue to trudge deeper into Trump’s upside-down reality, just as written in 1984. Meanwhile, experts familiar with how nuclear testing is conducted points out that it’s not done by Defense, but the Department of Energy. Many of those officials needed in nuclear testing were…drum roll…furloughed or fired by Trump and DOGE as part of their efficiency drive. What maroons. The experts also note that it takes several years to fire up nuclear testing programs, and that Trump seems to be fact-flawed reasoning for the need for testing. Like, yeah, when does Trump use facts? Of course he’s employing flawed thinking. That’s who and what he demonstrably is: a flawed thinker, unless it’s way to get attention and make more money for himself.

Pretty funny, too. Trump gave his visit with South Korea a 12 out of ten (there’s that math genius!) while South Korea was like, yeah, it was very pleasant. Reminds me of a blind date where one thinks marriage is in the future and the other is ready to move on.

The Neurons have plugged “That’s All” by Genesis into the morning mental music stream. The Neurons attribute the song to Trump and his continual lying and bullshit, the pass which the press mostly grants him on his garbage talk, the unflinching adulation from MAGA, and the cover the GOP provides him. Part of the lyrics of “That’s All” go, “It’s always the same, it’s just a shame, that’s all. I could say day and you’d say night. Tell me it’s black when I know it’s white. Always the same, it’s just a shame, and that’s all.”

Hope light finds peace and grace and guides them back to us. Well, that’s all. Cheers

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Wenzdaz Theme Music

Clouds mar Monroeville’s autumnal setting. Wenzda, October 29, 2025, is surging across the land. Cars grunt with acceleration down at the intersection, punctuating the 38 F air with flat blats of vehicle noise. Last day here; tomorrow we head home.

Visited with Mom yesterday, and she was in classic elderly Mom mode, telling stories with sharp-mind clarity although, as was her younger habit but veering into lateral paths from time to time, a pattern she has passed on to me. We met with a realtor about selling the house. Sis is lead tiger on that project, with inputs from the rest. The three local sisters are circling this project, as they’re local. Reasonable, right? Disappointed with the initial selling price suggestions, they are interviewing another realtor. I usually interview three before going with one, so I have no problem with doing that. Although the qualifier is that this first realtor is a friend of one sister and sold her the last house that sister lives in. With the Trump economy throwing up all over certainty and the future, home purchases in this area have quickly declined. The realtor said it looks like it’ll be slow for this quarter and the next.

I’m heading to Mom’s to search out papers. I figure I should just box them up and convey them to Mom’s new place where they can be reviewed in comfort as needed, instead of dispatching one of us to ‘find them’ at the old house.

Today’s music is dream related. As I reflected on the dream, in which I was dealing with many famous people but also trying to invent a new game, The Neurons came up with The Police, “Message In A Bottle”, in the morning mental music stream. I don’t get the connection…

May peace and grace be with you and me and all in between, if they ever get off their duff and come see us, that is. Here we go. Cheers

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Mundaz Theme Music

October 27, 2025, has ambushed us, lowering another Munda on us with a soft sigh. Autumn weather is rampant in Monroeville. Blue sky, turning leaves, sunshine. 47 F, upper 50s will join us presently. I spoke with another elevator passenger after I came in from a walk. “Beautiful day outside.” “Yes,” he answered, “I love this time of year.” He got off the elevator, leaving me to finish to myself, I love it, too, but one morning I’ll awaken out of love with it.

Trump delivered another miracle announcement about how awesome and fantastic he is. This was about his MRI. “Best one they’ve ever seen,” he loudly cried. The he hurried to the place formerly known as the White House to put it on the refrigerator with his finger paintings so everyone can ah over it. Thing is, you don’t put ‘im in an MRI unless there’s a medical concern, right?

Mom’s bash was a celebration done right yesterday. A tiara announcing 90. A pink sash proclaiming, ’90 & Fabulous’. I’d picked up her pink party smock and her silver shoes, and that’s what she was wearing. Good food, twenty-four people representing the generations, happy time. But today, there she was, 7:58 AM, going to the hospital. She’d fallen. Sis wanted her checked out. Mom, a retired nurse, refused. Now, suddenly, yes, she needed to go to the hospital, Mom decided. So off they went. I slept through the text telling me this. Now I’m heading over there. Sad, as Mom was happy, alert, present, all that, yesterday. Ate well, etc. Now, here we go. Hopefully, it’s not a spiral into another prolonged health battle.

Recalling the party, though, The Neurons supplied me with “Shiny Happy People” by R.E.M. in the morning mental music stream.

Hope peace and grace get up and out of bed and come visit soon. Have the best you can in the meantime. Cheers

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Fridaz Theme Music

Frida in Monroeville, PA, a Pittsburgh suburb arrives as a near duplicate of our Ashlandia weather. 49 F now, we expect a mid 50s high.

We had successful and straightforward travel. All went as if designed with us in mind. Cool. But, the hotel, Courtyard by Marriott, is another matter. That’s for another post, I think.

Inflation picked up. Not as much as expected. An Economist article included the idea put forward by many economists that companies are sucking up tariffs for the short term. Their reasoning was that Trump was inconsistent, rolling out tariffs, then pulling them back. Also, companies and countries had found some temporary workarounds. The workarounds are ending as the tariff picture sharpens in focus. They expect it to get worse.

Alongside that, Trump announced he’s no longer negotiating with Canada over tariffs. As befits a person of little understanding of negotiating, tariffs, and history, Trump is whining about ads which Canada had in which Saint Ronnie badmouthed tariffs. Trump, of course, cried, “Fake new!” Naturally, he offers no evidence, instead just screaming in infantile all caps in his trage.

Trump says he’s ending trade talks with Canada over TV ads

“The ad was for $75,000. They only did this to interfere with the decision of the U.S. Supreme Court, and other courts,” Trump wrote on his social media site. “TARIFFS ARE VERY IMPORTANT TO THE NATIONAL SECURITY, AND ECONOMY, OF THE U.S.A. Based on their egregious behavior, ALL TRADE NEGOTIATIONS WITH CANADA ARE HEREBY TERMINATED.”

Of course, for some reason, the US national deficit shot up a record rate to a record number. Doesn’t have anything to do with PINO Taco, of course. yes, snark.

US hits $38 trillion in debt, after the fastest accumulation of $1 trillion outside of the pandemic

After a solid day of traveling, a good night of sleep, and some weirdly interesting dreams, The Neurons rewarded me with Pat Benatar singing “Heartbreaker” in the morning mental music stream.

Off to see Mom shortly. First, food somewhere, I think. I’m waiting for my wife to finish dressing before we go about it. Hope peace and grace finishes its break and finds you, me, the nation, and the world in general. Till then, cheers.

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