Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
My wife and I were in Albertsons. A light replenishing mission, this wasn’t a full-on shop. Certain items are only available at Albertson’s or Safeway in Ashland. Albertson’s is closer, and so there we were.
I was in the sprawling produce section, which shares space with the deli and bakery. A frozen section of frozen mashed potatoes and macaroni and cheese lines another wall.
Standing on the end, I gazed across these commingled sections and all of their offerings, looking for my wife and trying to remember what she was wearing, eagle-eyed for a purple hat or blue jacket. I think that’s what she was wearing.
As I did, I questioned myself and chuckled, “How many times do I end up like this, looking for my wife in a store?” Seems like every shopping venture with her has a moment like this.
I was perplexed. Everything — just five items — on our list was in the basket, and I had the basket. Clearly, my wife had gone rogue and was shopping ‘off-list’. That happens, but what did she seek? Answering that would let me find her.
I noticed a woman looking at me as she pushed her cart my direction. Not recognizing her, I decided she wasn’t looking at me but something around me.
She came right up to me. “You look confused. Are you looking for the frozen fish? They’ve changed everything around again.”
I smiled. “No, I’m looking for my wife. But you’re right, they’re always moving things around.”
The woman nodded. “Yes, they want us confused and lost, so we spend more time in the store, which might lead to more impulse buying.”
She wheeled her cart away.
I watched her heading down another aisle. She’d clearly given this a lot of thought.
But she was right. Like, right now, my wife was probably pursuing another impulse buy.
Then I turned and added a bag of pistachio nuts to the basket. I mean, as long as it’s there, and I’m there, waiting…right?
Sunda, January 11, 2026, silently settles in around us in Ashland. My wife and I gage the outside weather together.
Alexa told us it’s 36, cloudy, with fog and stagnant air, and a high of 56 F upcoming. My system says it’s 30 F.
“Look at the fog,” my spouse intones.
I nod. “Fortunately, it’s the invisible kind.”
Yes, we can see blue skies, sunshine, and the treed mountains as far as forever and perspective allow us. I suppose other parts of Ashland are soaked in fogs, cloud, and warmer air, and that’s where Alexa gleans her report.
Sis reported that Mom was very loopy this week. Mom again fell out of her wheelchair, again insisting that the chair ‘threw her out’. Sis and I have seen Mom in the chair and warned about leaning too far and not paying enough attention to her posture and balance.
From Mom’s point of view, she was doing everything right. What was going wrong was the chair. But we saw the same thing when she was walking last year but frequently falling. In that case, absently turning and reaching and becoming overextended caused her to fall. She always blamed something else.
Perspectives often matter. Judging from news reports and blogs, politically progressives are as enraged and watchful as me with ICE matters.
It’s dismaying. After an ICE agent killed an unarmed American citizen, Renee Good, in Minneapolis, many called for restraint. Using reports of more ICE confrontations, ICE responded with more aggression.
I watched multiple videos of Good’s encounter and death. They all left me stunned as others. I questioned why ICE agent Ross drew his weapon in the first place. The agent seemed overly aggressive, as if he wanted a chance to shoot.
ICE agents were bellicose, shouting, “Get out of the fucking car.” When Good was shot and the car went off and crashed as she died, someone said, “Bitch.”
I read a report that the killing was the first in Minneapolis in 2026. That doesn’t bode well for a calm and peaceful 2026.
Music helped reclaim some sense of calm this morning. Papi did too, coming by to greet me with chirpy purr-mew. As my oatmeal with cinnamon was made ready, The Neurons put Ray LaMontagne singing “Trouble” in the morning mental music stream.
Trouble
Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble
Trouble been doggin’ my soul since the day I was born
Worry
Worry, worry, worry, worry
Worry just will not seem to leave my mind alone
The song’s lyrics are right. Worry won’t let my mind alone since Trump emerged on the politic scene.
May worry and trouble leave you alone and peace and grace come by and comfort all of us. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 