Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
I had a dream which I can’t quite remember.
It involved a chrome sports car. The fragments I remember include a young me looking at the car. The car was very low and slick, chromium, more like a toy from Mattel’s Hot Wheels collection than a ‘real’ car.
In some scenes, I was designing it. Other times, I was making yet I also remember it being given to me, and I remember getting ready to drive it.
Throughout this, the background is dark, like a starless, moonless night.
My wife and I were driving around, dropping off books at Little Libraries. So far, we’d dropped off twenty-five books at five Little Libraries. Only one stop remained.
I turned off East Main. It was sunny but rain was falling on the windshield.
“Squirrel!” my wife shouted.
I’d seen the squirrel bolting into the street and was braking before my wife said anything.
The squirrel and I both stopped. They turned and ran back to the sidewalk but stayed there.
I edged the car forward.
The squirrel edged forward.
I increased my speed.
So did the squirrel.
“Damn, dude, what are you doing?” I asked the squirrel through the window.
It turned right.
I accelerated away.
Ashland, southern Oregon — Thursday, May 7, 2026.
Blue, blue sky. 67 F that we now feel would’ve been the high a few days again. Now it’s a measurement as the thermometer sings toward 83 F. Higher is possible, I think.
Mom is settling into acceptance that the nursing facility will be home for a while. Although she looks and seems happy in photos and videos, she doesn’t like paying the money and doesn’t like having her independence curtailed.
I hear her. I can see myself feeling and doing the same. I wish something better was available for her.
Meanwhile, my sister is moving forward on selling Mom’s house and getting powers of attorney. Sis has been patient and persistent and gets a lot of points for that.
My sisters and I shared health texts yesterday. We older beings laughed as we compared our health issues. My younger siblings were agog with dismay. My older sister responded, “Getting old ain’t for sissies.”
Big news front that I’m seeing is Justice Roberts is upset.
I read that to my wife. She laughed. “Gosh, I wonder why.”
No kidding. The shadow docket has surged under Roberts once Trump came into power. The Brennan Center summarized exactly why we think the Roberts Court is politicized and favoring Trump:
“The Court has sided with the administration 80 percent of the time when making “emergency” rulings, often without revealing its reasoning.“
Your Trump Quote of the Day:
Despite Trump’s claim, made less than three months ago, Republicans are now asking for $1,000,000,000 for the ballroom. Trump also claims the Epstein ballroom is under budget, even though they’re now asking for five times the original amount to build it.
Trump can’t be trusted. Nor can the GOP. What’s your guess for how much the Epstein ballroom will end up costing?
Between the Epstein ballroom and Trump’s Iran War, Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! is becoming one of most expensive fiascos in history.
Today’s theme music is “Under My Wheels” by Alice Cooper. The song came out in 1971. It entered my morning mental music stream today after reading Jill Dennison’s blog. It featured the ELO song, “Telephone Line”. That was enough to inspire The Neurons to lift “Under My Wheels” out of my dusty folds of memory. See, the song begins, “The telephone is ringing,” and the line is repeated throughout the song.
Hope you enjoy it. Still sounds good to me, fifty years plus later. However, I don’t often play Alice Cooper these days; he’s a right-wing individual who trashes trans ‘as a fad’.
I hope this day finds you doing well in all ways that matter. May peace and grace carry you on no matter what adversity life might deliver.
On to my coffee. Cheers
I officially have bladder cancer.
This started as blood in my urine a few months back. A CT Scan with contrast showed a lump in my bladder. I went to have a cystoscopy yesterday.
That was an interesting appointment. A med tech, Chris, did the standard intake to update my records. Then he explained that they didn’t have the cystoscopy equipment.
Whaaaat?
It was going to arrive later that day. So I could come back…
Chris left. Ten minutes later, the doctor entered the room.
She did a double take: like, why wasn’t I gowned and in the chair? Pretty funny expression, very human.
Then she sat and we talked. I explained to her that Chris said that the cystoscopy equipment wasn’t there. Oh, the doctor realized she’d misunderstood the staff that morning. She thought they were telling her more equipment was arriving.
She left. I went out to talk to Chris about the situation. Another tech hung up her phone and announced that the equipment was at the hospital warehouse. She was going to race over and pick it up.
Okay. I stayed and waited.
“This might pinch,” Chris said twenty minutes later.
I was naked from the waist down on the chair. Reclined, a flimsy paper sheet covering me. Until Chris uncovered me and injected lidocaine up my urethra.
Pinch? No, it stung in a big way.
That was just the beginning.
The doctor came in. Lubed up her camera. Inserted it into my urethra. She and I watched on a monitor as the camera went up my urethra.
“Arrgh.” I arched up in pain.
She nodded. “Yes, your urethra narrows a lot here. Did you have a Foley catheter before?”
“Yes. Twice.”
“That explains it. Okay, I’m in the bladder. There’s the tumor. Yes, cancer. See it? Looks like a small coral reef on your bladder wall.”
A three cm posterior bladder tumor.
She pulled the camera out. Explained next steps. Surgery in six to eight weeks. I’d be sedated. She’d put a tube up my urethra and then scoop the cancer out. TURBT (transurethral resection of bladder tumor), gemcitabine.
Referral to another doctor for PCNL – Percutaneous Nephrolithotomy – to remove the 1.4 cm stone in my right kidney.
I’ll let you know how it all goes.
Michael Seidel, writer 