Coffee house hissing, loud laughter, and boisterous conversations swam around me. Waiting in line, a barista prepared quiches and burritos and told me about her cat until I reached the register.
Jessie, the cashier, has grave eyes with a welcoming but cautious smile. As she rang up my order, I tilted my gaze to a cheap-looking white ring on her third finger.
Wondering if it had symbolic meaning, I suggested, “That’s an interesting ring.”
Holding her hand up, Jessie regarded the ring and chuckled. “My sister-in-law lost her wedding ring in the ocean one year. I started worrying that I’d lose mine, so now I only wear my wedding ring on special occasions.”
Turning the ring on her finger, she looked off and smiled to herself. “I wear rings like this instead. I have a bunch of them and let my daughter pick them out for me. She’s say, ‘Today, you’ll wear pink.’ Or, ‘I think you’ll wear orange.'”
We laughed together. Walking off, I imagined her daughter giving her a pink ring to put on her finger.
It’s Friday, January 23, 2026. Eight more days, and 2026’s first month is done.
Ashland’s weather is again blue sky, sunshine, and 36 to 46 degrees F, with stagnant air. I guess the weather isn’t into changing much around here.
Reading of the advance of that big winter storm smothering the eastern U.S., I’m happy with my weather today. Snow, ice, freezing rain, sleet, and record cold temperatures are aligned to strike. All of you in that weather’s path, take care and hang on.
Tell me you don’t know the difference between weather and climate without telling me
It’s sad that people like Donald Trump don’t understand the difference between weather and climate. I don’t think it’s a failure of education as much as it’s lazy thinking. As they say, weather is your mood today; climate is your personality.
I’d like to insert a courtesy reminder that today is a Day of Truth and Justice. This is to remind us that an ICE agent killed a person, Renee Good, earlier this month. Since then, ICE has increased its presence and violence in Minnesota.
While official-sounding reasons about immigration sweeps are announced, the primary reason seems to be retaliation. That explanation fits with the pattern to date under Trump 47. Minnesota is blue and Donald Trump is levying vengeance on any state that he didn’t carry, in much the same way that he’s trying to bully other nations to do whatever he thinks is best.
To counter Trump’s tactics and strategy, a general boycott to support Minnesota and those suffering from ICE’s attacks on Americans is in effect today, January 23, 2026. If you care, don’t buy, please.
For me, that means staying at home to write and not spending any money for anything past what’s already committed for health, safety, and security, such as electricity and water.
The Neurons inserted a song by The Smiths in the morning mental music stream, “Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now”. The trigger for the song’s recall was, “Why do I give valuable time to people who don’t care if I live or die?”
I believe it’s a general reflection that many of us are trying to improve everyone’s life. That includes some people who don’t care about others living or dying. Some even have expressed it online with lines like, “Die Liberal Scum”. It’s enough to make you wonder, as The Smiths did.
My hope for you today is that you’re safe, healthy, and warm. Happy would be nice, too, if it can be managed. For now, I’ll accept coffee. Cheers
I was in the coffee shop — typing, revising, thinking, scrambling through the novel, noticing faults and fixing them. Progress was steady but heavy with challenge.
.Another customer approached my table. Regulars, she and I briefly spoke together a few times. Today she said, “Excuse me, but I love watching you at your table.”
Blinking, I gave her my attention.
She continued, “You become so deeply focused and oblivious to the rest of us, it just amazes me. I’m sorry to interrupt you but I really felt an itch to say something.”
I thanked her with a laugh. “Don’t worry. Interruptions can be helpful. Sometimes a little break is needed to help me think more clearly.”
We exchanged names, then she left the coffee shop, leaving me smiling.
Sometimes it feels good to be noticed as orders are called out, conversations rise and fall, and people come and go.
Monday, January 19, 2026 has rolled into Ashland. 32 F at the house, Alexa and the net insist it’s 43. Stagnant air warnings remain, but the blue sky and sunshine offer hope for something better. Highs are expected to kiss 60 F, maybe inch over that.
Why then, am I down?
Something unidentified broke my sleep last night. Papi swears it wasn’t him. Nor do dreams seem like the cause. The three remembered dreams offer the typical blend of wonder, hope, and anxiety. Writing is going well. Maybe my hormones are causing something. Hormones can be sneaky, underhanded energy challenges.
I felt like Dad’s spirit visited me yesterday afternoon. Busy exercising, my mind was free. A sad thought that I couldn’t pick up the phone and call Dad passed through me. Then it was like Dad was suddenly there, grinning and laughing like he was fifty years younger, a startling few moments, to which I smiled.
Dad and I were both in the military for 20 years and enjoyed cars. We also enjoyed robust political discussions.
During my last conversation with him, he told me he disapproved of Trump’s policies and behavior. He also commented that his wife and her family were staunch Trump supporters. Living in Texas, he was surrounded by MAGA, and related that there was ‘no talking to them’. Those folks consistently maintained that Trump could do no wrong.
Frank, Mom’s significant other and Army veteran, scowled when talking about Trump. The man rarely cursed but when he did, it was often in conjunction with Trump.
I’m pleased both of them passed away and won’t need to endure watching Trump’s policies unfold.
The Neurons turned to Albert King and Stevie Ray Vaughn to help me climb out of this funk. “Born Under A Bad Sign” plays in the morning mental music stream. I wasn’t born under a bad sign but I feel like I woke up under one today. I’ll indulge in some blues music, sipping coffee, partake of some news and blog posts, and sort myself.
Hope your day starts under a good sign that things will go well for you, perhaps one with hints of peace and grace.
Driving through town to my coffee destinaiton, I heard Elton John performing “Bennie and the Jets” on the radio today. The Neurons immediately slipped alternative lyrics into my head.
D-d-d-Donny and the ICEss Oh, but they’re weird and armored up Oh, Donny, he’s really mean He’s got mango skin, and they shoot to kill You know the Minneapolis scene, oh D-d-d-Donny and the ICEss
Sure, it’s because ICE and Trump are heavy on my mind with what’s going on in Minnesota.
But it could just be that I need more coffee, quick.
I was in the coffee shop on a writing mission, nursing a stiff neck. Falling asleep in a chair the other night, my head slipped out of position. I’ve been doing micro movements almost absent-mindedly to loosen it.
So, there I was, eyes closed, flexing my neck and head back and forth. A Steve Miller song, “Keep On Rockin’ Me, Baby”, floated out of the speakers. Without thinking about it, I was moving my head side to side in time with the music.
When I opened my eyes, a small pair of blue eyes were watching me—blonde hair, rosy cheeks, pink plastic boots. She began copying me. Eyebrows lifting, head tilting, she mirrored every little motion.
I grinned, and she laughed, and so did I. For a moment, it felt like we were performing a tiny, accidental duet—two strangers connected by rhythm, movement, and the music of another time.
The temperature is sulking between 28 (my house) and 37 F (the net). The net amends its claim, “Feels like 27 degrees”. Well, alright then.
It’s Frida, January 9, 2026. The grass is a ghostly shade of green under an unstoppable blue sky. Sunshine feeds light into the valley. All of it looks promising, optimistic. Today’s high will drag the mercury to 46 F.
I’m processing news and information, reflecting on 2026’s launch and its relative successes and failures. Mom and sis have been quiet. Sis has only commented on another sister’s behavior. The other sister is urging everyone to sell Mom’s house quickly but is not doing anything to make that happen.
Sis and Mom are quiet. I hope it’s because stress has dropped for the two, letting them breathe and communicate. I have my fingers crossed that we’ll see a peaceful January. If they can go an entire month without blowing up my phone with texts accusing the other of hate and malfeasance, it’ll be a new record.
Likewise, watching growing reactions in the political world, I slowly became hopeful that improvements are rising. My hopes are not unlimited.
After an ICE agent shot and killed an American citizen in Minneapolis, there was a shooting involving border patrol agents and civilians in Portland. Fortunately, only two civilians were shot and they received prompt medical treatment. I don’t know how the two victims are faring; I hope both are recovering.
Mixed concerns rose after listening to Portland’s Mayor and Oregon Governor Tina Kotes speaking after the shooting. They called out Trump, Homeland Security, and ICE to de-escalate the situation. They then talked about re-building an atmosphere of trust.
Sadly, I don’t think Trump cares about a trust between citizens or political parties. Trump has ramped up his belligerence in 2026’s early days by insinuating that more military action against other nations and territories is possible. Even as National Guard units are being removed from Portland (OR) due to a judge’s order, Trump threatens to send them back in.
My worries about his increasing threats are grounded in the claim he’s recently made that only he can stop himself. Trump’s history is not one of self-restraint and his second term is replete with threats. He’s attacked judges who ruled against him, politicians who speak against him, and reporters who don’t portray him as the greatest.
Between Mom, sis, Trump, and the weather, I’m ready for January to be emotionally up and down. As it sometimes is with me, that mood summons songs from the grunge side.
This morning, the delivery came as I watched a small bird fly down to the yard. After three quick hops, he flitted to the wire. His little head popped left and right. To my mind, he was doing a recon, and his conclusion was, no, this is not the place, because he jumped up and flew off.
I smiled throughout this and thought about having wings and flying. The Neurons jumped into the thought party at that point to play me some “Down in A Hole” by Alice in Chains in the morning mental music stream.
The Neurons didn’t start at the beginning. They selected the lines, “I’d like to fly, but my wings have been so denied.” Laughter to that seemed like an appropriate response.
Coffee has been added to my morning tilt. Energy is rising. I hope you all reach and stay in a good place for this day and the many to follow. Cheers
Thirstda, January 8, 2026. Eight days into a new year, and I remain reflecting about weather patterns and national and international politics.
Looking at the weather, the advisory which has been shadowing our hours for several days warned, snow is coming.
Snow didn’t quite come to Ashland.It dusted surrounding mountains and firs like confectionery sugar. Down on the valley, chilly wet ground is visible. Temperatures roam from 35 F to 46 F.
The last temp, 46, comes from Southern Oregon University’s observations, and has struck me as accurate. That range, 35 to 46, highlights the impact of mountains and valleys. We’re in a valley’s neck, and SOU’s observations take place in a field down closer to the valley floor. So we see, it’s colder in the mountains than at lower elevations, re-affirmation of long-known temperature dynamics.
Now they’re telling us that the weather is going to warm. Ten-day forecasts are serving up highs in the sixties. Like any season, we’ll wait for the end before it can be judged. So far, worries about having needed snow deposits to carry us through the summer keep nudging up.
Reflecting on national politics, concern is now going up about the latest shooting and Trump administration’s response to it. ICE agents in Minneapolis shoot and killed a woman. Following a standard script, Kristi Noem claimed the agents were defending themselves.
Early video evidence and civilian statements completely undermine Noem’s claims. Now the FBI has declared that nobody is allowed to see any collected evidence.
Until that point, a familiar pattern was being followed, with local, state, and FBI investigating together and cooperating. The FBI announcement, coming without warning and contrary to previous investigations, causes worry that transparency needed to reassure citizens of impartial and fair consideration of evidence has been jeopardized.
On the one hand, the FBI’s approach is an old tactic used by repressive governments in the past to cover up crimes and manipulate results. We the People have witnessed multiple times when that happened in the last twenty years. Think Walter Scott of South Carolina, George Floyd of Minneapolis, the Franklin Park ICE shooting, to name some prominent examples.
Cover-ups of law enforcement was a concern before 2026 began. The Minneapolis ICE killing only heightens the distrust many have of the Trump administration and ICE.
Watching the weather and studying the news pulled The Neurons into an unsurprising direction. Eating my breakfast found them filling the morning mental music stream with “Watching the Detectives” by Elvis Costello from 1977. What a sense of humor The Neurons sometimes reveal.
Well, I hope that 2026 finds a turning point soon and begins arcing toward the freedom, justice, and equality which most of us prefer. In the meantime, I’ll sip coffee, keep watching, and wish you all a rendezvous with peace and grace soon. Cheers
The markers of familiarity intrigue me. I like to walk and friends and strangers comment on seeing me walking around town. People often mention they know me by my hat and its flair. My flair reveals my interests in writing, coffee, beer, the Steelers, and being retired military and living in Oregon.
On my end, I know several dogs who come into the coffee shop by name but I don’t know their owners’s names. People socialize differently with animals. The baristas and other customers often talk to the dogs by name. But even when people talk to the owners, names are rarely used, a facet of behavior which intrigues me.
Things are changing, though. This week, I learned that sweet Lenny’s owner is a retired sociology professor. Happy and social Sugar’s people are Thomas and Alice. Bear — who lives up to his name with his size but is a friendly, relaxed pup — belongs to Norm and Sarah. In this way, gaps are closing, and we’re all becoming friendlier and more open.
Today, Jessica didn’t know my name or regular coffee order. She did remember my Co-op number and knew that I was Brenda on that account. She and I enjoyed a good laugh about it.
Little interactions like all of these help enliven the coffee shop writing life for me.
Michael Seidel, writer 