Tag: travel

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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Thirstdaz Theme Music

Cold and dark outside on this Thirstda morning. We’re in the airport, listening for the call to board, packed close to others in the same situation. Conversations rock and roll, mostly one end of cell calls. I’m ready for more sleep. My wife sits tight against me, watching like a bird, observing with sharp eyes. It’s October 23, 2025. 40 F outside. Our trip home has begun.

Today’s music came out of nowhere. I don’t understand what The Neurons had in mind when the entrance to the morning mental music stream and “Champagne Supernova” by Oasis was allowed to flow in. I think about the words, and that refrain, “Where were you while we were getting high?” I think too, of the exultation that, “But you and I, we live and die, the world’s still spinnin’ round, we don’t know why, why, why, why, why.” I like the song’s flows. It’s soft, reflective gentleness at the beginning, like lapping the waves. The hammering, conflicting guitars challenging one another, escalating with the vocals later. Then the gentle fall at the end as the last line repeats over and over with different inflections, “We were getting high.” It’s all about life and courses, and changes to me, how some things lift us up and other matters dump us, and how we sometimes feel different and alien from others. But almost all of us play with those ideas about ourselves, I think, as we slip and slide on the spectrum of being, of what we are, where we’ve been, and where we’re going.

Goodness, that’s a lot of thinking and typing before having any coffee. Done worn me out.

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Wenzdaz Wandering Thoughts

Thinking about my travel packing this morning. Long ago, I developed a habit of packing my toilet bag a few days before I leave. Then I use my toiletries from it as though I’m in a hotel room. In that way, I sometimes realize something was overlooked, and I’m not rushing through packing it at a later time. This is all my own in that I’ve never read about it, subject to memory limitations. I’ve never mentioned it to others till now, either. Wouldn’t surprise me to learn that others do the same.

Follow me for more tips about drinking beer and coffee.

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Wenzdaz Theme Music

Another Wenzda has shifted in. It’s October 22, 2025. We’re getting into October’s last legs. Trees are still lively with colors. That huge old oak across the street hasn’t begun shedding yet. When it does, a blizzard of gold will fall to the winds. Meanwhile, seeing its high golden leaves up against the sky’s purest blue refreshes me, and adds depths to my contemplation of what in the world is going on. Now 46 F with the heater on in the house, sunshine, a front, and clear sky will help Ashlandia breach the low seventies today.

Mosquitoes found in Iceland for the first time, says a headline. Well, surely that’s a one off. They just had some record heat. The story says that Iceland and Antarctica were the only places without skeeters. Now there’s just the southern ice cap. I hear it’s been warming and shrinking, so set your calendars. I evaded stories about bomb threats, cars ramming buildings, and other signs of increasing unrest and violence in the U.S. With familiar weariness, I read about Trump rambling through another nonsensical conversation and temper my rage that this is accepted as okay by GOP senators and his donors and minions. I slipped past war updates from Ukraine and edged around the shooting involving a marshal, ICE, and another person, who was supposed to be ‘an immigrant’. Some flirting was done with the tale of the AWS outage that crashed parts of the web over the last several days. My heart and mind were wary of delving into those stories without coffee’s strength first.

The packing for our trip is done. Papi’s minder moves in tomorrow morning. I will miss my furry orange friend. A taxi will whisk us away like refugees in the night. Fingers crossed, etc., by this time tomorrow we’ll be aloft in one of aerospace machines, heading east for Mom’s birthday, seeing family, etc. Sis sent photos of Mom’s new lair. She included the little electric fake fireplace Mom had in her living room. Mom and Frank bought it an estate sale and were so happy with it. I know Mom will find comfort in having it on, warming the air and her heart.

Dad’s birthday is next week. Day after Mom’s, the day before Mom’s late brother, a few weeks after my late mother-in-law, and a week after my brother-in-law. Anyway, I wrote Dad a letter this morning, thanking him for what he’s done for me, telling him how much I enjoy our telephone conversations and laughing with him, etc. Afterward, The Neurons felt it appropriate to insert Dido’s song, “Thank You”, in the morning mental music stream. So here we go.

May peace and grace find their way back to us. Many wonder if they still exist. I believe it’s still being cultivated in many places where protections are in place to keep it from being smashed. Till then, roll on. Cheers

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