

Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not

Ashland, Oregon — Wednesday, March 11, 2026. 34 degrees F under blue skies latticed with thin, white clouds. Today’s high will climb into the fifties.
As part of a messy life stream, things continue on the Mom and news fronts.
The first new oil refinery in Texas in fifty years was announced. Trump is all over the money aspect, citing $300 billion dollars, which makes it really impressive in his mind. Two things struck me about the announcement.
Trump announced it as a “America First” thing but it’s funded by an Indian oil billionaire. Pretty good marketing hype.
Secondly, many headlines said that Trump announced the opening of a new oil refinery. Was it being opened or built? As I researched it, I couldn’t find basic answers to how long construction will take and when it will open.
I finally learned that it’s going to be built, with construction beginning later in 2026, and it’ll cost $4 billion to build. At this point, it’s a proposal. It won’t start operating until 2-3 years later. “America First” is the name of the company developing the refinery, a partnership with the Indian company, “Reliant Industries Limited”.
The hype around it reminds me of Cadillac’s Formula 1 effort. They put out a huge Super Bowl ad which including some of JFK’s speech about putting a man on the moon. They said, “The Mission Begins!” “We have liftoff!”
It annoyed me because I was struck that they acted like they on the cutting edge of something new and amazing, and not another new racing team in a series that’s been around for decades. What was more stunning was I later realized that Cadillac was using Ferrari engines for the first two years.
My sisters reminded me about a Mom fact which I never thought about. Mom always dressed nice. My older sister claims Mom had thirty pairs of high heels. But Mom often claimed poverty for us. We couldn’t afford to do things and often had to skimp. We did always have shelter and food, and Christmas presents were usually lavish. But my sisters all remember struggling to have clothes themselves.
Anyway, I responded to Mom last night as she reached out to me again. She was referencing texts which I didn’t have. I don’t know where the disconnect is. Her texts were about payments to the assisted living facility. I texted back, “What is your situation and what is your plan?”
She responded, “You finally answered. The situation is I’m in assisted living and I have a roommate so I think the pay is 4500 a month. I asked Lori yesterday what happens when I ran out of money and she said you have a house don’t you and yes but they’re not going to sell it until the spring and then I realize what she meant by they will put a lien against the house and when I die, the house is theirs if I would be here a long time which I don’t plan on being here a long time. So glad you answered me, Michael because just. because Sharon is through with me, Gina has been through with me for a long time. She had also told me that Lisa has always hated me so there’s nobody left Michael very upsetting to me that all my children hate me. But thank you for answering me tonight. See you later alligator.”
I sent that information on to my sisters so they’re aware of it.
I haven’t heard from Mom since, which isn’t surprising. In the last six months, she has a cycle of staying up late, texting into the night, and then sleeping through the day. She becomes angrier and meaner during those periods, more frantic. Then she grows lucid and nice, normal for a few days.
On to my normal day. The Neurons have placed “Schizophrenia” by Sonic Youth in the morning mental music stream. It’s an interesting song.
Sipping on some coffee, looking at the pale sky. I hope your day lives up to your best dreams for yourself.
Cheers

Thursday, February 26, 2026. Today is 02262026, February’s final Thursday. Two more days and February of 2026 will be history.
Ashland finds itself encased in fog with temperatures ranging from 39 F to 45 and a high in the mid-fifties called for once again.
Texts regarding Mom were non-existent today. Some suggest this is the quiet before the next storm. I agree, that’s probably true. I think Mom will again try to return home, insisting that she can live without anyone else there. All we can do is wait and see at this point.
Results for my comprehensive metabolic panel and tests for Hep B came back with no abnormal findings or Hep B indicators, a major change from the last CMP, done right before my gallbladder was removed last November.
I met with friends for beers last night. Someone turned to the conversation to Iran and the U.S. military buildup. Specifically, it was asked, what are the odds that Trump will order bombing to being in the next 30 days?
Four broad suggestions emerged from the conversation.
That last was in response to the recent news that Cuba shot and killed four Americans in a speedboat in Cuba’s territorial waters. Cuba said that the Americans fired first. Trump’s response will be interesting, as he tends to strike to get revenge for American deaths, doing so with a heavy hand.
For music, The Neurons plugged King Crimson into the morning mental music stream. I’m hearing “21st Century Schizoid Man”, a real callback to my youth. The song was released when I was a teenager. Its intensity captivated me, and that intensity feels owned today. I had a terrific writing/editing day yesterday — best since my oral surgery weeks earlier this month.
I last used this song seven years ago. One commented that they’d never heard of it; two others cited the group and album as a favorite but mentioned that they didn’t like this song.
I hope you have safe and productive Thursday and can groove toward the weekend with new hope.
Cheers
If I come and visit
Will you know my face
Will you talk to me
Like your son
Or lace your words with hate
Will your texts ever change
From anger and demands
Will you stand and hug me
As you kiss my head
Can we sit and laugh
Remembering what we ate
Playing games of Tripoli
Hoping for a good hand
Or will you stare
Not speaking
Leaving me
In silence
I was prescribed post-surgery meds and went to the drug store to pick them up.
Walking through the drugstore parking lot to buy them, I saw a small yellow car. Circling closer, I confirmed, 1964 Dodge Valiant, just like my stepfather drove. Might have been a different year but it was the same model and color.
I remembered him bringing it home although I don’t recall what he drove before that. I rarely rode in it. This was ‘his car’, something to commute to work and go off to bet. George was a gambler and went to the horse races five or six days a week, trying for a big score. He won big twice. Once was a $25,000 Daily Double payout, providing the down payment on a newly built brick ranch in Penn Hills.
Later, he won enough to buy a new 1976 Chevy Camaro. Like his Valiant, this was pale yellow, three-speed on the column and a black and white checked interior. Sis hated that car.
All of us disliked driving with George. Tending to drive about five miles an hour below the speed limit, he also liked to get into the faster lanes but not go faster. This terrified us as other drivers pulled up, slowed down and then sped past with blaring horns. Mom would often snap, “My God, get out of this lane.” George wouldn’t budge, though, sailing on without regard to others’ opinions.
The yellow Dodge in the drugstore parking lot had tiny tires and petite chrome bumpers, appearing small and fragile among the huge SUVs and a couple of ‘compact’ Toyotas and Hondas. All the modern vehicles were white, black, gray, or silver. Nowhere was another yellow car.
Seeing it still brought a smile as I walked on, reflecting, what a different world. And yet, back in the 1960s, that Valiant would have shown up as so much different than the preceding decades.
Who knows what our 2026 cars will look like compared to the cars of 2086.
“Shiny”
Pennies and nickels
Money we hold
Kept in jars
Doesn’t fold
Saved for
Rainy days
Other times
Dust collecting
As we add dimes
Quarters are coveted
Wash and wax
Till someone else
Counts the cash
“Going By”
Shadows dance
On mind walls
Coming alive
Hearing old songs
Whispering
Remember
When you see a smile
Ordering
Forget
When you freeze
For a while
Always there
Awakened
And dead
The people
You’ve met
The person
You’ve been
“Orientation”
Just like that
There I am
Slipping along
A spectrum
I don’t understand
Looking for footing
As I
Slide along
Grasping for pieces
Hoping to right
Wrongs
Smiling
Like everything’s ‘okay’
Looking for spaces
In places
Where I sit
Struggling
With something
To say
“Dwelling”
It’s just a moment
To explore the day
Lost in thought
Feeling old
Maybe gray
Hunting for a mood
That’s muddied
And sullen
Hoping answers
Might come
From sources
Hidden
I’ll sit a while
In this well of mine
Doing my business
Thinking
About time
“Reconsidering”
Framing comes
With a frozen
Snap
I blink again
Wondering
Where I’m at
How much time
Has passed me by
As I sit
Reflecting
Wondering why
Maybe it’s time to stand
And stretch
Get on with life
And off the bench
February entered Ashland looking just like January’s little sibling. No snow or precipitation, blue sky mottled with slivers of nascent white clouds, 37 F but climbing quick under solid sunshine. We expect a high of 54 F today, not bad if you can get it, but we need snow.
Back east, that is not a problem as videos with one headline proclaiming, “Bomb cyclone explodes, dragging Arctic blast over US states”.
Sure is true where my family resides in Pennsylvania. Sis sent a flurry of photos of the snow still embracing her area. She asked if I was aware that Mike Seidel was on the air over on Fox Weather. I wasn’t aware, I answered, because I don’t watch Fox Weather or Fox News.
I do and did watch other news and was pleased that five-year-old Liam Conejo Ramos is back home in Minneapolis with his father. His father sought asylum from Ecuador in the United States when the Border Patrol decided he was here illegally, shipping the father and son to a Texas detention center. Homeland Security, Border Patrol, and ICE all insist that they didn’t arrest or detain the five-year-old but didn’t give a term for what it was.
SNL gave us some laughter with a terrific skit about a diehard MAGA mom, but I wondered how much truth the humor harbored.
Another piece of SNL humor touched on the news cyclone around Trump in their cold open. They suggested the Minnesota ICE surge was to distract from the Epstein files being released, but then the Epstein files had to be released to distract from the ICE violence in Minnesota.
Papi the ginger floof again provided me with theme music. For whatever reasons, Papi came in from outside charged around the house, reversing directions and fishtailing like he drove a getaway car. Watching that as I laughed, The Neurons spun “I Get Around” by the Beach Boys in the morning mental music stream.
Hope this Sunday finds you with peace, grace, warmth, and safety as the second month of 2026 takes over. Cheers

It’s Sunday, January 25, 2026, in Ashland — if I’m reading my computer right. I trust my machine to tell me the truth but as things evolve into greater complications, it’s not always trustworthy.
We have dry weather, sunshine, and blue skies. The temperature gap has returned. My home system shows it’s 25 F. Online cites the temperature as 29 but Alexa says it’s 40. High temperatures in the fifties are expected.
Two different issues draw my attention as the massive winter storm takes on most of the United States, and Minnesota deals with unrest after another ICE shooting. Fortunately, I have a cat.
Papi’s weather focus is extremely limited. He shows more interest in food, although, power to him, he really likes helping me with yardwork. If I’m out cutting things, pulling weeds, and so on, Papi’s steely green-eyed gaze inspects my work. Both annoying and cute, because I worry about him getting hurt.
He and I went out to salute the sun in the back, our habit going back for years. We came in, I fed him, then began preparing my breakfast. Through the kitchen window, I watched my neighbor across the street. Every day, he walks to the end of his driveway, faces the sun, and stands, eyes closed, for several minutes. Today, with this cold, he was returning to his house within two minutes — about the same amount Papi and I did.
Sis’s on-the-scene report from Pennsylvania said everything is closed, finishing, “Been snowing since it started, middle of the night. ‘Ooo, baby, it’s a white world,’ is the official song.” She sent a photo of her front view, with her son-in-law’s car parked in the driveway. The snow is expected to keep falling through Monday.
Eight southern states are suffering power failures from ice due to the storm. Hope people are able to stay warm and safe.
Likewise, I hope everyone in Minnesota is safe, and stays safe.
Today’s song was inspired by Papi and my wife. Papi wanted food and attention. My wife wants assistance with some running around. The Neurons responded to the exchanges by playing “I’m Your Puppet” by James and Bobby Purify. I admit, I looked up who performed it and turned it into a hit that I often heard on my transistor radio when I was young.
These were the lyrics in mind when The Neurons took the song to my morning mental music stream:
Your every wish is my command
All you gotta do is wiggle your little hand
‘Cause I’m your puppet
I’m your puppet
The lyrics were modified from hand to paw for Papi.
Let peace and grace finally track us down, stay a while, and restore some sense of optimism for the future. Cheers