Spring has a solid hold on our stretch of valley. 59 F and sunny, we’re heading to the upper 60s today. Good weather if you’re a feline looking for a sunny place to nap…
I will do more yard work. I did all of my tasks yesterday, including pulling weeds. But the weeds have had a very successful year. If I could sell them, I’d be a thousandaire.
I had to again break off part of this post to create a Trump-centric post. I think Trump voters are addicted to hate, and Trump himself addicted to power. He’ll do anything to elevate himself. Lies, fake information, bragging are not beyond him. Nor is AI generated content showing him to be superhero strong, smart, and healthy. To those of us outside of his sphere, we see these things and shake our head, muttering, “What the fuck?” It’s amazing how many of his base can’t see the truth; it’s more amazing to see how many are willing to lie and just go along with Trump. It’s frankly sickening to see how low they’re willing to stoop to pretend things are going great with Trump in office.
Nothing new on Mom nor my health. Just awaiting developments on these fronts.
I ended up with The Neurons playing “Addicted to Love” in the morning mental music stream. It arose from thoughts that Trump is addicted to hate, and his base are addicted to him. I always enjoy the Night of the Proms series so I was pleased to find this video to present.
Hope your life finds you moving forward, healthy, happy, and safe.
Quixoatic(floofinition) – Animal behavior marked by lofty ambitions which cause chaos. Origins: First seen in print in the novel “Floof Quixotic”, 1855.
In Use: “Dandy’s nights were quixoatic pursuits of bugs, spiders, and things which she only saw — awakening her people with a symphony of as pots meeting the floor.”
Our temperature is 51 F. Sunshine broadly spreads across the valley as thin gray fog recedes. Today’s high might be in the low fifties, we’re told.
Papi doesn’t care about temperatures. That sunshine provides a warm bathing space and he uses his tongue like he hasn’t washed in weeks.
As I sipped coffee and read the news, I thought about the illusions that Trump and his supporters and enablers entertain. That only whites matter, that history should be rewritten to reject anyone who was not a white, Christian heterosexual. It’s so narrow and foolish; again, I’m reminding that we’re only as strong as the weakest among us, only as smart as the least intelligent in our ranks, only as healthy and wealthy as the sickest and poorest.
Trump initially sold those ideas to supporters but has abandoned them. He ran on a promise of lowering prices, convincing many that he would do so on day one of his second term, improving the economy. Now, asked about rising gas prices after his attack on Iran and its impact on gas prices, Trump shrugs it off.
“I don’t have any concern about it. They’ll drop very rapidly when this is over, and if they rise, they rise, but this is far more important than having gasoline prices go up a little bit.”
I don’t trust Trump’s analysis or promises. Trump has littered the political landscape with broken promises: he would deliver a new healthcare plan in two weeks. He would never golf because he would be too busy working. Mexico would pay for the wall. There would be no new wars. Prices would come down on day one. He would end Russia’s war on Ukraine on day 1. Those are just the ones I easily remember.
Trump also claimed that last year’s attacks on Iran’s nuclear facilities had destroyed them. Now he says the war is needed to destroy them.
While thinking about Trump’s positions and policies, The Neurons filled the morning mental music stream with “Fooling Yourself” by Styx. I last played this on my blog when COVID-19 was raging in the United States.
Back then, I quoted and commented on these statements and beliefs made by a MAGAt.
No worse than the flu and already going away. No, the greatest threat to America comes from “libtards” and their willingness to give everything away (he believes “Obama destroyed America and the economy”). Further, Trump’s recent sickness was really just a cover for him to rise up and finally vanquish the Dems and “libtards”.
Again, I think Trump supporters are fooling themselves. Trump is fooling himself.
“And there’s nothing less expensive than peace. You know, when you go to wars, it costs you 100 times what it costs to make peace.”
Nine days later, Trump launched a war that’s costing over $60,000,000 a day for the United States. This doesn’t address the cost of the other nations, such as Iran, the center of the destruction. Nor does it address the cost of lives lost, disrupted, and destroyed, regardless of the nationality, age, or religion.
The video I chose joins the song’s writer, Tommy Shaw of Styx, performing it with the Cleveland-based Contemporary Youth Orchestra. I hope you watch, listen, and enjoy.
May your day find you warm, safe, and blessed with love and good fortune.
We’re winding through winter’s last days toward spring in Ashland. History provides us reminders that Ashland often experiences late winter to mid-spring snowstorms. I’d like more snow in the area, especially in the Cascades where our snowbank resides.
Today, it’s overcast with uncertain, flexing sunshine. 48 F, it feels neither warm nor cold, and our high is arcing toward just 50.
My phone has developed problems with receiving text messages all of a sudden. I’ve added fixing that to my todo list. I did get some updates from my siblings about Mom before the system went tango unform on me.
Mom is reverting to the behavior displayed in January. I drift toward remembering who she was and the complex relationships my sisters and I have with her. I contrast what’s she’s enduring with who she was, what and who she was trying to be, and where she arrived as a person. Much of it now is beyond her control. Doesn’t stop my sisters from getting angry about it. But we saw this pattern emerging. There was little we could do, which we learned with time, because we tried to do things to change the course.
I smile at some things, like her potato salad. My wife insists nobody makes potato salad like Mom. My wife tried but when she asked for a recipe, Mom was more about the ingredients and less about the measurements. One thing I learned from helping her make it sometimes was that Mom depended on tasting it and how it looked — color, texture. That’s hard to translate through recipes.
I was just settling into checking on prices, the war that Republicans don’t want to call a war, and other matters when breaking news arrived.
I think at first, “about time”. Her arrogance and attitude doesn’t fit with what I look for in public servants. I temper that, though, with the understanding that she was carrying out Trump and Miller’s policies, and generally working as a functionary for Project 2025. It’ll be interesting to see how much this change will actually manifest as change.
On the heels of that thinking, I scoff, but of course Trump has replaced Noem. She’s become a lightning rod for negative impressions about Trump. With his popularity falling, he made her his scapegoat.
Today’s music is “Wild Horses” by the Rolling Stones. When The Neurons first settled it into my morning mental music stream, I sang it as “Wild Kitties” for Papi’s entertainment. He did not seem entertained.
I’m not sure why the song is playing in me. I can see how its themes and melody is about yearning for another time, for a different outcome, even for hope. I suppose that’s where I reside now — wishing for other things than what now exists. It also came out in 1971, when I was fifteen, so I suppose remembering the song stirs some nostalgia for being back there — young, with Mom, facing a bright future.
I’ll close with best wishes for you and us to stay safe, be healthy and find new ways toward a peaceful, prosperous, and inclusive future.
I read an article in a newspaper, something about prizes being given away, and decided that would be a good idea for my group of friends. I don’t recall prize details but I thought they were practical household goods — but expensive — which some of my friends could use. So I pulled my local friends together and pushed the idea on them, persuading them, “Let’s do this.”
We then got on the phone to call two other couples. We used to live close to each other but they’d moved away. I knew the wives better than their husbands, as I’d known the women first, so I kept forgetting the men’s names when I was on the phone with them.
We ended up at one of the couple’s house. It was a small three-bedroom, two baths California townhouse. Not shabby but cluttered. They were home but the husband wasn’t coming out; I sensed our ‘invasion’ irritated him and felt sort of sad that he lived in a small, cluttered place.
There was a device we were supposed to use in conjunction with this scheme, although the scheme was to call people up or knock on their doors and try to sign them up. The little rectangular device had come apart, so I was trying to fix it. Mostly metal, with a wind-up motor and gears, it also had some small red and yellow pieces, and a body that clipped on it. I continued trying to fix that while talking to others and laughing.
After a long period of aimless conversations, everyone agreed with my idea. One of the guys, a younger Mexican-native American who I worked with before, came to me and told me my assignment was to go sign up three new customers. I declined, explaining, “I’m not a salesperson. My role is to organize and oversee.”
He accepted that but seemed glum. I finished fixing the little device and put it together, telling him, “Look, I fixed it.” I felt very proud of that, vindicated because ‘I knew I could do it’.
I then asked him what the matter because his energy seemed low, then guessed that he was facing discrimination from his boss. He confirmed that, adding, “It’s others, too.” We spoke about that a little bit more.
Another friend came in to tell me my wife was missing. She said she’d gone to bed but she wasn’t in her bed. I went and checked on her; she was in bed. I told her that others checked on her, but she wasn’t there and asked where she’d been. Crossly, she replied, “I had to go to the bathroom.”
I went back out and told my friends about the exchange, then I again went looking for my wife. This time, I went outside and up the street. We were in a suburban neighborhood. I found her sitting on a lawn chair on someone’s walk to their front door. Sprinkler systems were on, watering large, lush green front yards.
My wife was younger and laughing, though she was alone. She pointed out this kitten. Tail straight up, it was an odd tarnished gold color and was prancing around. My wife said that it’s a stray but she was very fond of the cat and had been watching it for a while.
Floofstalgia(floofinition) – 1. Emotional distress caused by worry about an animal. Origins: 2005 article, “Floofstalgia: a new concept in human and animal anxiety”.
In Use: “Brenda didn’t see Murder M, automatically triggering floofstallgia because this was not like Murder M at all.”
2. Fond reflections about a previously known animal.
In Use: “While searching for a pen, Wade discovered the purple collar Bella used to wear, soaking him with floofstalgia.”
3. Yearning for a time before living with animals, especially housepets.
In Use: “Sweeping up pet fur after cleaning up food bowls, floofstalgia raged in Carey — cleaning wasn’t as time consuming when she didn’t have pets!”
Ashland, Oregon — Tuesday, March 3, 2026. Fog is drifting in from the west, slowly painting over the deep blue sky. Sunshine has us at 52 degrees F with a projected high of 61.
Papi has been in and out several times, like he’s expecting it to be warmer outside because it’s sunny but the chilly air keeps pushing him to return to warmth. He’s just executed the classic move of throwing himself down and rolling on his back while he was washing his face.
Relative quiet is drifting from the Mom front. I’ll take it but it’s one of those ‘waiting for the other shoe to drop’ quiets.
Quiet is not the word I’d use to describe the middle east as the joint US/Israel attack on Iran apparently encourage other regional nations to try to settle old scores. Afghanistan and Pakistan have border battles going on. US embassies have been attacked. Shipping — including a US oil tanker — have been attacked. Dubai’s airport has been hit.
Reverberations are spreading. Shipping has been diverted from the Strait of Hormuz and the average price of gas in the US jumped 11 cents overnight. The Dow, S&P 500, and NASDAQ all dropped.
Trump will dismiss growing worries about affordability as blithely as he dismissed military members’ deaths. I’m sure he’ll shrug and call it a sacrifice that has to be made. He’s not personally affected so he really doesn’t care, and it shows in his speech and behavior.
The war was supposed to be pre-emptive to stop Iran’s attacks on the US. I haven’t been able to find those incidents which Trump and Hegseth. I did find the chants from protestors about “Death to the United States”, but damage and deaths weren’t reported after those chants.
Seeing our rooms brimming with sunshine about half an hour ago, The Neurons fired up Cream and “The Sunshine of Your Love” but in the time I took to type this, fog has blotted out the sun and blue sky. The song is one of the major pieces of frenetic power rock which I grow up with as a teen. I went with a recording of a live rendition from the group’s farewell tour, just to see the young faces.
Hope your day carries you forward on positive energy and delivers good news and optimism. I’m off to the dentist for follow up, next phase of getting an implant.
Chablin (floofinition) – A ‘chaos goblin’, slang for a high-energy animal who cause unending mischief in unexpected ways and place. Origins: Internet, first noted in the United States, 2024.
In Use: “Mario seemed like a quiet cat when Stan adopted him, but Mario quickly revealed he was a chablin, galloping around, knocking eggs and plants off, but winning reprieves with his sweet, deep purrs.”
Michael Seidel, writer 