I was walking through the house. As I passed my wife by the foyer, she bent over to pick something up.
I gave one of her butt cheeks a light tap.
She looked up at me.
I said, “Oh, sorry, I thought you were someone else.”
That’s when the chase began.
Satyrdaz Theme Music
It’s Satyrda, Oct 18, 2025, also known as No Kings II. This is a day when We the People come together to remind Trump, Project 2025, the GOP, and the rest of the world that the United States rejected kings ruling them twice before, in 1776, and then again when the idea was floated before G. Washington. We didn’t want kings then; we don’t want them in 2025.
My spouse and I spent time last night constructing our signs and finalizing our plans. This morning, my wife came to me. “I screwed up,” she said. “My doctor appointment isn’t 1:30, it’s 11:30.”
Oh. That changed things. Originally, we would hit the rally from 11 to 1, leave at 1 and go to her appointment. Now we’ll go to her appointment and then head to the rally when it’s over.
It’s a brisk fall morning out there. Plentyo sunshine, clear, blue sky, but just 39 F at our place. 75 F will be ours before the night pulls in.
For the record, the Epstein Shutdown continues along on cruise control. Republicans are mostly content to let things slide and refuse to fix healthcare issues for millions of Americans. That’s just how they roll.
Today’s song comes from a convo with my wife last night. I was doing a load of delicates. Did she want to put anything in? Sure. She zipped around doing her collection, then came to me and said, “I can’t find my sports bra.” I found it in the laundry basket. She’d just overlooked it. But meanwhile, The Neurons projected a song variation in my head. They had me singing, “Looking for my bra in all the wrong places,” to the tune of “Lookin’ for Love”. “Lookin’ for Love” by Johnny Lee was a 1980 hit associated with the movie, Urban Cowboy. We were livin’ in San Antonio, Texas, at the time, and you could not escape the song. Anyway, The Neurons kept it going in the morning mental music stream. That’s how it came to be here.
Coffee is flirting with The Neurons. Time to get up and at them. Hope grace and peace find us all today and maybe stick around long enough for us to get to know them. Hope to see you at the protests. Cheers
The Book Dream
I heard someone reading from a book in the next room. Several women began talking about how it moved them. I thought, I want to know what this book.
But I was tired and decided I would get in bed for a nap. Just after I did, a woman entered the room. She was fully dressed but her clothes were tight, with a very low cut and revealing, sheer, flowery top. She told me that she’d been reading that book and asked if I minded if she got in bed with me. I answered that I didn’t think she should but she ignored my answer and got in bed on the other side. She moved up against me and suggested, maybe we can kiss and cuddle some. No, I replied, though I was tempted. She kept making more and more provocative suggestions. I started to give in. Would it really hurt just to kiss and cuddle? But I knew myself, knew that I’d get excited and would give in, so I again said, no. Then, I left the bed, because she wasn’t going to stop.
I went off through the house to find my wife to tell her what had happened. When I told her, she barely gave me any attention and changed the subject. I went on, talking about the book. I wanted to know what that book was and who wrote it. Saying that, I went to find the book.
That’s when the dream ended.
Twozdaz Wandering Thoughts
It’s not an accident that my house keys are always in my right-hand pocket. As part of the setting, we have two cars and one house. My wife and I don’t put our house keys and car keys on one ring. She’s apparently just emulating me. I asked her why she does it, and she told me, “You don’t put them together.”
I don’t put them together because I didn’t like keys bouncing around in the car, making noise as we drove. Attribute that to my misophonia. Certain sounds jar and irritate me. I reacted by segregating the house and car keys to reduce my sound-related irritation. Now it’s my practice to always put the house keys in my right-side pocket. Never in the coat either, but in the pants or shorts I’m wearing. I do not buy pants or shorts without pockets. Not having those pockets is just unacceptable.
Now, the house keys are in the right-side because I’m right-handed. My spouse has a habit of locking the door between the house and garage. She often does it absentmindedly. But after parking and going to enter the house, often with my hands full, it’s easier to free my right hand and pull those keys from my right-side pocket. I don’t need to wonder where they are or shift anything because I know.
See? Everything is connected. Bet you’ll sleep better knowing all that, right?
Sure.
Mundaz Wandering Thoughts
My wife and I had a minor disagreement the other day.
I had surgery to repair a ruptured tendon last year, in October, 2024. I’ve had pain of various kinds since then. One source of pain was along toes three to five, which was often stiff with burning pain. I’d mentioned it to my surgeon, as it began during my convalescence from surgery. He said that it sounds like a nerve was damaged. I felt the same. Although I’m not a medical expert or doctor, etc., I broke and dislocated a wrist in my late twenties. Pins casts immobilized that wrist and arm. I suffered from a burning, painful sensation along the pin sites after they were removed. My doc back then told me it was probably nerve damage. It did go away after about twenty years. This foot pain felt just like that pain.
While walking the other day, I felt a sudden sharp and painful snap in my foot where the toe pain resides. After gasping and slowing for a second, I resumed walking. Lo, that foot pain was gone. It hasn’t come back.
I was so elated. I went home and told my wife. She responded, “Why is this the first that I’m hearing about this?”
One, it wasn’t the first she was hearing about it. She’d forgotten me mentioning it, but I spoke about in early January of this year. I don’t blame her for forgetting it. We don’t remember everything we’re told.
Two was a broader philosophical position. Basically, I don’t tell her about every pain I endure. I’m aging, and have pains from time to time. Feet, ankle, hips, neck, shoulder, back, abdomen, eyes, etc. Those pains often go away. Their duration can last anywhere from a few hours to a week. Sometimes they limit movement, and more rarely limit my activities. My point is, pain comes and goes. I prefer to not complain. And then means, to me, not mentioning.
And there’s a little history in that. Number one was Mom. Mom as a mother often told us to stop crying, stop whining, stop complaining. She wanted us to be happy children. If we couldn’t be happy, she wanted us to be quiet.
Then there’s history with my wife about this. Long ago, when I was twenty, I was severely sick for several days. We didn’t see doctors back then for things like that. Basically vomiting, not eating, listless, sweating a lot, lot of pain. That pain resulted in some moaning and groaning.
Yeah, I got over it and lived. But about a year later, my wife was speaking to others and talked about what a baby I was when I was sick and hurt. That insulted and angered me. I told her so when we were alone. It since became a theme for her to talk about how often men complain about being sick or hurt when women are so much hardier, and more willing to endure. I finally mentioned to my wife that I disliked this reductivism about men and pain. She’s done it off and on since, and once, after seeing me give her a look when she made such a statement, apologized and claimed that she wasn’t including me. Since then, she’s slowly drifted out of the habit.
But this is how we evolve. We have our basic attitudes and tendencies, and then we react to our environment. Part of that is how we react to what we hear. What is said about us, especially by those we love, admire, and trust. Maybe I’m being thin-skinned, but words matter. Part of my problem, too, is that I seem to have a very strong memory. I don’t easily forget or forgive.
I guess that’s my bottom line.
The Travel Dream
I was traveling on a large boat. It almost seemed like an enormous barge. Rusted and worn with use, it was safe but old, tired, and without comfort. It was also packed with fellow travelers. Most were women. I knew some, and my wife was among them.
The barge sailed on a rippling brown river so wide that the banks couldn’t be seen. We’d been traveling for days and getting close to the end. While many rode along as gossiping, resting passengers, I had a role of keeping things as organized as possible. This had me racing around. I was often on metal walks above the rest, and would look down and see what was going on as I rushed from task to task.
At one point, I was forced to go down among them. I’d stripped off clothing because I was hot. Wearing only my boxer shorts, I couldn’t find my clothes.
I didn’t care. It was important that I go down and do what was needed. My arrival in my underwear drew attention and comments. I shrugged them off. I overhead my wife undertaking explanations about ‘who I was’, but that didn’t matter to me.
Abruptly, we arrived and disembarked in a chaotic surge. I found myself driving a powerful white sedan filled with people. Racing away from the docks on surface streets, I saw a speed limit sign, 80 MPH. Stepping on the accelerator, I merged with traffic onto a huge white cement Interstate. We were going down a short hill through a curve. Ahead was an enormous hill and multiple exits listed. I called out to my wife, who was in the back seat, for instructions about where to go, demanding, “Which exit do I need to take?”
She replied, “I don’t know, I haven’t been paying attention.”
That infuriated me. I wanted to verbally berate her but then thought, why wasn’t I paying attention?
Dream end.
Twozdaz Wandering Thoughts
I was deep into my DIY project. New breakfast bar lights. My wife came running in. “I need to take a bath and get cleaned up. The rapture is tomorrow!” As my eyebrows climbed, she enthused more deeply about how it’s on the Internet that the rapture would take place on September 23, 2025. It’s on the net, so it must be true.
“So don’t be surprised if you can’t find me,” she finished.
I nodded. “Yes, I know I’m going to be part of the left behind.” I’d long resigned myself to that. Don’t know if resigned was the right word. I think the world might be a better place with less people. Better if God plucked them out and took them elsewhere rather than having disease, starvation, pestilence, war, and violence take them away.
“Maybe you’ll be allowed to visit. Came up to the holy gates and talk to me.”
“Well, I guess we’ll see.”
This morning, she asked, “Hey, what happened to the rapture?” She then confided, “I had a plan. I was going to hide and leave a pile of clothes on the floor so that you’d think I was taken in the rapture.”
“What happened?”
She grinned. “I forgot.”
Guess the joke was on her.
Fridaz Theme Music
Muted sunshine and faded skies greet Ashlandia. New chills float through. It’s Fridaz, September 9, 2025. 68 F, rain’s short shadow hovers the mountains. 86 F will be the high but a sense that it’ll be a cool 86 pervades.
Speaking personally, slumber and I were good friends last night. Residual abdominal pain haunts me. My gallbladder matter tracks in a worsening trend. Each cough and flex ushers in uncomfortable spasms. My gut makes noise like a pen full of feeding hogs. I look forward to my surgery in November. Until then, like others, all I can do is endure and work around the issues.
Political news casts no happy sunshine. Trump and his conservative army of dunces remain bent on Making America Poor and Stupid. Oh, the top 1% will be the richest in the world. On paper, we’ll compare pretty good. Into the trenches of life, most will live the lives of Les Miserables. Hate and stupidity is an ugly brew but it addicts many.
Reading on of Peter Sage’s post this week left me with more dispirited headshaking. Peter writes about politics, often addressing it from the southern Oregon point of view. Peter writes,
“Pence, along with Reagan, both Bush presidents, Dole, McCain, and Romney, are the old establishment, the America that isn’t great, the one that paid unnecessary respect to the wrong people. The old GOP leaders accepted laws and norms. That defined “conservatism.” Trump is different. Trump is a rebel. He smashes those laws and norms because they were tacitly part of the oppression. The old order didn’t protect and reward normal White guys and their wives, good Christians.
“Trump is stomping on the symbols and policies of the old order. Stop wind and solar projects. Erase monuments to civil rights. Fire Black leaders in government, the military, and the universities. Cancel medical research grants. Question vaccinations. Stop the slow-motion, checks-and-balances process-dominated government. The establishment respected the wrong people: foreigners and immigrants. It respected diversity, and “diversity” is just part of the groupthink that benefits everyone except people like my correspondent.”
Many of us understand that Trump has used people like Peter Sage’s correspondent as political pawns. They think he’s going to make life better for them. He won’t. We will instead all be interred in a dark existence of poverty and illness. All those regulations which kept the essentials safe for the Joe and Karen average citizen will be swept away in the name of trade and commerce. This will benefit the wealthiest, but not the commoners. And with Trump’s direction, the commoners will be largest, fastest growing segment.
Today’s music is by Hall & Oates. My wife and I went to have our eyes checked. We did this at Costco. Not wanting to be late, my wife guided us there twenty minutes early. Shopping was done in six minutes, leaving time to waste. We did this by drifting through the book, snack, and clothing regions. Quickly bored, I drifted, and when I turned back to my wife, she was gone. That prompted The Neurons to reboot the 1973 Hall & Oates ballad, “She’s Gone”. A short while later, I heard her call out, “Cah, cah.” That’s how we get one another’s attention. So she wasn’t gone. But The Neurons were so amused by this whole turn that they’ve kept the song going in my morning mental music stream.
Time to get up and get out. Hope peace and grace finds you and keeps you standing.
A Cheetah Dream
I dreamed that my wife and I and several family members were traveling together. Just ending a journey together, we arrived at my house. This was a tiny but crowded place with bare cinder block walls. Included among my family was a sister and one of her daughters, and several of her grandchildren.
I was first into the house. Getting in there, I discovered a full-grown cheetah in our house. My arms were full of grocery bags, limiting what I could do. My dream brain said something like, “Holy shit, there’s a cheetah in the house.” The house was a friggin’ mess, so cluttered with junk that I struggled to walk across the floor. As I did try to walk across the floor, the cheetah gently took hold of my shirt tail in its mouth and tried pulling me in another direction.
My wife and others entered. I warned them, “There’s a cheetah in here.” They didn’t seem to pay attention but I continued, “I think he wants me to feed him. I don’t know if it’s male, to be honest, but I think he’s trying to pull me toward his food.”
That’s what the cheetah did seem to be doing. I talked to it like it was my housepet, explaining that I’d feed him in a second, but I needed to put things down and food his food first. Whenever I’d go toward where I thought the food was, the cheetah would get happy and chirp small, high-pitched mews at me. But if I turned away from its food, it’d would swat at me. Never with true menace, but still, it’s a cheetah.
Sometimes I would swear. Then a second sister, who’d joined without being noticed, would remind me of little ones being present, and I’d apologize. My niece’s husband also joined us, making my place very crowded. All through this, the cheetah paid no attention to anyone except me. Meanwhile, I kept asking the cheetah, “How did you get in here?” The dream ended as I reached for food to give the cheetah.
Mundaz Theme Music
Munda, September 15, 2025, has settled in against a backdrop of clear blue skies and warm sunshine. Summer is hanging on, taking us from overnight lows in the lower fifties to an 85 F high. All things end, though, and summer’s last days are coming on in the northern hemes.
I spoke to Dad this morning. He’s still in the rehab center. His voice was not strong. This latest ordeal really seemed to suck his life energy out of him. But…it might also be that he had just gotten out of a very hot shower and said he was sleepy. On a more positive side, my wife seems over her illness. She ate yesterday, picked up a book and read, and went to exercise class this morning.
Had a storm of dreams again last night. Went from being in the military trying to get a haircut to being in charge of a process with IBM and ISS, the Internet security companies where I worked, to recover and shut down security equipment. The latter was a messy, disorganized affair, and no one had done anything, so I was taking it on. Out of the blue toward the end, three young women, teenagers, really, appeared to help me with the computers. They weren’t much assistance at first, as they lacked knowledge but they were eager and energetic. With their help, I began wrangling the mess into something bearing some coherency.
Back to some rock ‘n roll for Munda. I was singing “Honky Tonk Kitty” to Papi this morning after he chirped appreciation for the food being delivered to him. Naturally, my song inspired The Neurons to fire up memory of the Rolling Stones tune in the morning mental music stream, as it’s quite similar to what I was singing.
Today’s project is about getting tree branches cut back from the neighboring apartment complex. I’d do it but realized that some of the branches are higher than my reach, even if I’m standing on a pile of books on top of a ladder where they tell you not to stand because it’s unsafe. I’ve reached out to the apartment complex to start a dialogue about my needs and intentions. They were out of office, so I left a message. Next steps would be to talk with them and then get estimates and get ‘er done.
Hope peace and grace find and lift you up today and every day. Coffee is doing some heavy lifting in me today. Time to bounce on into the day. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 