I was in a store with friends. This clean, mostly white, and well-lit place was like a fancy grocery store. No friends from real life were present but the people there were all known to me as friends. I knew that we were there for the second time. The first time, we’d made minor purchases. Liking the place, we returned to buy more.
So, we’re in line to pay, and we’re comparing how much our purchases will probably cost. Most of what we’re buying is food, especially cheese and bread, it seems like. The owner, a young and petite white woman with black curly hair and red lips, is behind a counter ringing up purchases.
I estimate to my friends that I’m buying several hundred dollars of food. Then it’s my turn and I step up to pay but the owner waves me off. She tells me that she knows who I am, that I’m a writer that she admires, and that she loves my books. I’m perplexed as I’ve only self-published a few books and had a few stories sold, so I tell her that I think she’s thinking of someone else. No, she insists, she knows me, knows who I am, and I will never need to pay for anything in her store. Her insistence stirs guilt in me; that’s not the way the system is supposed to work. I’m also flattered but doubtful. We talk more; she stays on point. I surrender and walk out without paying.
Good morning. We’re here in Fog City on Twozda, November 25, 2025. It’s a sweltering 41 F outside, and it’s gonna get hotter! As the sun and fog tango and clouds move in and out, we’ll crest 55 F. All this continues a pattern of unusually cold and foggy weather for us, weather that’s colder than normal for Ashlandia. Still, we’re not seeing the heavy rains crashing into the northeastern part of the state, so, thanks, weather gods.
Speaking of the state, Oregon’s governor declared a state of emergency.
Oregon Gov. Tina Kotek declared a state of emergency Monday to ensure that enough fuel arrives to the state while the Olympic Pipeline, which supplies more than 90% of the state’s fuel, remains shut down due to a leak ahead of Thanksgiving travel.
Kotek’s declaration is intended to keep enough fuel arriving to the state by ships and trucks partly by waiving certain regulations on how long commercial drivers hauling fuel can operate, according to the governor’s order.
~snip~
Oregon officials said they did not expect a fuel shortage in the state or at Portland International Airport with the emergency measures but cautioned that drivers might see an uptick in prices because of the more costly delivery methods.
In Washington, where Gov. Bob Ferguson declared a similar state of emergency last week, the shutdown is starting to slow some air travel in Seattle ahead of Thanksgiving.
~snip~
Oregon often has a price higher than most states. This is generally driven by a combination of factors, including state taxes and the challenges of importing gasoline and other fuels into the state.
Today’s music is a hit by the Four Tops, “Standing in the Shadows of Love“. This is all dream related. As the dream faded, I moved into a shadow. Had nothing to do with love at all. But as I reflected on the dream, The Neurons started playing the song in the morning mental music stream. The song came out in 1966, when I was ten, and was a powerful and repetitive presence on AM car radios. My older sister also bought the 45 when it was available and it was inserted into the song rotation she and her girlfriends played on sis’s little portable record player. So, yes, I have a strong familiarity with the song.
One of the more interesting things about news yesterday was a story that slowly disappeared. Early on, I read a story about DOJ resignation letters under Dizzy Don TACO Trump. I read about that on three sites at that point, including CNN and CBS. When I went back to read the articles again later, the CNN and CBS sites had removed the story. I don’t know why. But I can reasonably speculate that this is part of the mainstream media caving to the Trump Regime and shying away from stories TACO might find too critical or truthful. TACO has a thin skin, dontchaknow, and the media is fearful of his anger and what he might do to them.
Former Department of Justice officials who were either forced out or resigned in protest of President Donald Trump’s administration left some scathing resignation letters for their bosses, and a new organization is seeking to preserve as many of the letters as possible, according to a new report.
Since Trump took office in January, about 5,000 employees at the Department of Justice have either quit or resigned, CBS News reported on Sunday. Meanwhile, a cadre of those former employees is banding together to create a public display of the messages the former employees left for their bosses. Those employees have created an organization called Justice Connection that is organizing and posting the messages, the report added.
Stacey Young, a former civil division attorney for the Justice Department, is leading Justice Connection. A spokesperson for the organization told CBS News that they are working to preserve the messages because they “show what is happening in our country at this moment.”
The repository includes messages left by high-profile former employees such as Maurene Comey, the daughter of former FBI Director James Comey.
~snip~
I found it a compelling situation and admired the sentiments and principles these people espoused. I wholly recommend checking it out.
Peace and grace are still maintaining a low profile. Hope they find us soon. The fog is blotting out less of the sun and the coffee is hot and fresh. Guess I’ll just flow with those positives. Here we go, once more into the day. Cheers
I dreamed I was at Mom’s house. We were all younger, and this was all pre-Frank. Mom’s beau never showed in the dream. Lots of others did. All four sisters. Wife didn’t show. Many, many friends throughout the years came and went.
The first stage was a big party. Mom and my sisters were present for that. Then they left, having had to go away somewhere for a day or two. With them gone, the party got bigger and crazier. Heaps of food were being consumed, along with beer and wine. Music and laughter boomed. Then the party wound down. I began cleanup. One other, a generic skinny old gray white guy, was there helping. Then he disappeared. As I walked around, cleaning, where the heck did he go? Then I found him, asleep in a chair that was flipped over. Well, let him slept, I thought.
Meanwhile, so many leaves were present.The levels astonished me. Drifts and piles of leaves were everywhere in the house. A gray and white kitten went through them, playing, then pranced outside through the open back door. I followed, peeking out to ensure it was a safe place for a kitten. It was a fenced yard with pea rock at the bottom. Tiered with cinder blocks, plants were in neat, ordered arrangements. I identified green peppers, tomatoes, lettuce, and realized, this is my sister’s garden. I then left the door open for the kitten to go in and out and resumed cleaning, taking a vacuum cleaner hose around to suck up leaves.
My friend woke up and apologized for falling asleep, explaining, “It was just a long day.” He began helping. At that point, Mom and my sisters arrived back home. There were still leaves to clean but they were hungry. I looked for leftovers to give them. My older sister asked for coffee, and I began making a bot. Mom asked if I’d checked the mail, which I admit, was the furthest thing from my mind, and then continued asking people, did anyone get the mail?
That’s where the dream ended.
In the waking aftermath, the dream amused me more than anything. I thought it about life and change, and considered it very heavy-handed of my Dream Neurons to present so many leaves, thinking they represented the days gone by and the leaves of change.
I was in charge of a small law enforcement unit, part of a national agency. We were all casually dressed, not even up to casual Friday standards. The people I led were young and inexperienced but eager. We’d been working on a case. Now we were closing in for the arrest. I was cautioning them, “But we don’t want to arrest them too soon. We are still gathering evidence in other aspects, and we want them to think that they’re one step ahead of us. In reality, we’re one step ahead of them. But we need them to be overconfident until it’s time to make all of the arrests.”
We were arresting a small gang of middle-aged individuals. No idea what their crime was. At this point, the dream evolved into us arriving at a place, waiting for the criminals to arrive, then ‘accidently’ revealing ourselves, letting them get away, to our feigned frustration. We did this five times before the other units announced that all traps were in place, and then we sprang our trap and arrested them. Only then did their leader realize that my team had been conning him. The look on his face was priceless.
It’s Thirstda! I’m glad about it because The Neurons kept telling me that yesterday was Thirstda. I accused them of being out of sync and reality deniers, much like Trump. Man, they fumed with indignation after that, sputtering about how wrong it was for me to compare them to TACO, who is deeply and grossly embedded in an alternate reality, in The Neurons’ opinions. “We’re not like that,” they kept telling me until I finally acquiesced and gave a half-warm fake apology about being sorry for comparing them to Trump. That mostly shut them up but they still sulked for a while.
Today’s numbers are 11/13/2025 and 60/64/56 for month/date/year and current/high/low temperatures in F. Wind is busy teasing the poor trees and leaves into mad waving and racing. It’s the kind of wind that has me checking to ensure nothing has blown away. Papi came in after I’d spotted him huddled hard against something, head down. Soon as I opened that door, he bolted in. Then he gave an angry look back, like he was swearing vengeance against the wind, and launched himself into a hard house gallop. Besides the wind, it’s sunny now, but it did rain and more rain is s’posed to be dropping, even if it doesn’t look it now.
I know I mentioned it before but I will reiterate, having my gallbladder removed has left me feeling amazingly better. I sleep better, have more mental and physical energy, with better focus. I feel less angry, anxious, and emotional, and less troubled and more confident about the future. I’m wary about what I eat as I slowly re-engage a wider range of offerings while keeping the fat down, and monitor my body’s response. I do miss being able to fully exercise. While I’m jogging, I’m restricted from lifting more than 20 pounds. Pushups and planks and wallsits are all out for now.
I had two terrific dreams last night that I recall. Both had me laughing as I recalled them. As I finished working over the dreams, I want into thinking and writing my novel in my head and ‘lo, the muses came and gave the writing neurons some sweet little details to insert. It’s great when things like that work out. I’m eager to get into it later today.
Today’s music is “Blind Spot” by Bruce Springsteen.
I’m not certain why The Neurons have “Blind Spot” in the morning mental music stream. The clue might be in that chorus. “Everybody’s got a blind spot that brings them down, everybody’s got a blind spot they can’t get around.” Was I thinking of blind spots? I don’t know. It appears that the reason behind The Neuron’s song choice is…ahem…hidden in a blind spot.
You saw that coming, didn’t you?
Well, the Trump Epstein Shutdown of 2025 set a record but ended. Now we’ll see what happens with the Epstein files. There have already been some interesting emails leaked up about Trump’s involvement. May the leaks become a flood.
Hope peace and grace find us soon. Meanwhile, coffee is giving a pep talk to The Neurons about the need to be alert, active, and optimistic. Here we go, once again. Rock on. Cheers
Ferrari red, it’s a wide, low vehicle. My wife is my passenger. We’re backing out of a garage. The passenger mirror hits the garage door frame. My wife gasps. I grimace. We finish leaving the garage and see that there is a Ferrari Testarossa mirror-shaped scallop removed from the garage door’s frame. I get out and check the mirror while my wife grumbles. The mirror is there but is upside down. A twist and I fix it, good as new. Nothing wrong with it, which amuses me; the mirror is stronger than the materials bracing the garage door. How funny is that?
We drive for a while at a fast but sedate pace. Then…in a jumbled shift, I’ve driven the Ferrari onto some kind of large transport. It’s like a train without a track, with a living room, kitchen, etc., and the mad chaos of eighteen people, including children. Many of the others there are known to me as actors and musicians, Oscar winners and Hall of Fame rockers. I’m amazed to be with them but also think, “About time.” A young blond Helen Hunt is present, herding three children running around. She’s managing but tells her children with a wicked smile and a gleam at me, “Hang on, children, Mommy has to drive this as fast as she can. It’s going to be hairy. Do you want Mommy to drive fast?”
“Yes,” the children all agree in repeated shouts while I’m agape, accepting, this is what I signed up for but I didn’t know what I was signing up for.
“Okay,” Helen Hunt says, “here we go.” She has a wooden stirring spoon her hand and is standing in the center of a room, children around her, toys strewn across the carpeted room. “Zoom,” she shouts, and thrusts her wooden spoon up.
The vehicle rockets forward. She waves her spoon and it rocks left, right, left. The children are laughing. I’m paralyzed in amazement. But we’re moving.
A conference among others is called and I attend. “Where are we going?” David Niven asks. “We’ll know when we’ll get there,” replies Bruce Willis, and a third who I couldn’t name tags on, “But we have to move fast.”
I offer to drive my Ferrari. It’s faster than this vehicle, so I can pull it along and we’ll get there faster. This is given serious conversation. I’m eager to do this but all decide, hold off for a while, let’s see what progress we make.
I go into another room and sit in a chair. A noise warns me, something is going out. “That’ll bring the ants out,” I think, looking down at the floor. Sure enough, as expected, a phalanx of black and red ants rush across the tiled floor. They’re going to be a bother if they go in the direction they’ve begun so I use a foot to divert their path. More obediently than cats, they turn in the new direction, and some wave thanks to me, because they understand why I diverted them.
David Niven finds me. “There you are. Come on, into the Ferrari. We need more speed. See what you can do.”
In a dream shift, I’m in the Ferrari but I’m alone. Others are hooking up the vessel and then shout, “Go.” The Ferrari is now black, I notice, and wonder when the color changed. Yet, I know it’s my Ferrari. I smashed the gas pedal and take the car up through revs, up through gears, snaking the car around traffic along an undulating and busy Interstate. Looking back, I confirm the vehicle is still being towed. I’m impressed that there’s no wind and little impression of speed. I feel in command, in control. This is a breeze, I think, speeding toward some brightly lit collection of skyscrapers looming larger on the horizon.
Blue is struggling for a presence against a gray and white coalition of clouds and fog.The sky is a dramatic pastiche for a classic fall line up of trees showing off golds, reds, yellows, and yes, some greens. My trees out front are into the traditional game of “Which leaf will hang on the longest?” Relevant numbers for this Sunda, November 11, 2025, are 63, 72, and 42, for the present, high, and low. My house’s outside system glowers that it’s still but 54 F out there. Overall, these elements blend into a pleasant fall day, good weather, if you can get it.
My wife is enamored of those talking button mats for floofs. These mats feature buttons which correspond to things like food, water, outside, treat. The floof presses a button to express themselves. We don’t believe Papi will ever be willing to express himself like that. He’s a reserved orange who keeps his thoughts behind a mysterious, watchful facade. We agree that Jade would’ve made full use of the buttons to drive us nuts. She was intelligent, vocal, and willful, wanting to be involved in everything, complaining and chastising us for not being forthright with sharing food, demanding to be pampered. She would’ve been a video star.
I see that Trump is manifesting his concerns about GOP election losses and the ongoing Trump-Epstein Shutdown (TES) of 2025 by losing his mind, blasting out crazier and angrier texts and statements. The GOP has decided that the best course forward is to do nothing, earning them another award as the Party Which Cannot Govern. That’s okay with MAGALand, as they think the government is out to get them and full of liberals which persecute the white man, especially if they’re a good, Christian, God-fearing, honest billionaire like Donald Trump. (Yes, that was 24k snark.) WWJD has left the building; they’re all about What Will Trumpy Do? It’s all good in their books. Evidence of preying on young women? That’s okay. Ripping off the taxpayers? Long as he’s in charge, they’re fine. Preaching hatred, divisiveness, breaking the economy, and starving citizens? Yeah, they good. WWTD. Some are starting to question about what they’ll do AT (After Trump), but they’re using very hushed tones. To question that there will an AT suggests that Trump is mortal, that he won’t be around forever. Judging from the way overweight Dozy Donny is shuffling around at this point, the countdown on him has begun.
So the “Cruelty is the Point” Trump-Epstein Shutdown of 2025 forges further into record territory, protecting Trump from being exposed for what he did with Epstein, stuff that put Epstein in jail, while demonstrating that Trump and the GOP does not give a crap about anyone but the wealthy and powerful. He and they have confirmed who they are, as long as you’re not hiding in some right-wing bubble.
Musically, despite a long and interesting dream, The Neurons are dedicating today’s theme music to DJ Dozy Donny Trump. This comes after reading the news, yeah? The Neurons said, this sounds like today’s morning mental music stream inhabitant should be “Manic Depression” by Jimi Hendrix. Yeah, that’ll play. This is interesting but uneven footage from Jim and Experience doing their thing.
No sign of grace and peace in my area yet. Coffee has answered the call, though, so I have a coffee grin spreading. Hope y’all have an awesome sojourn. Cheers
Through the fog creeps Thirstda, November 11, 2025. 52/57/48 are the numbers for the day: present, high, low. It’s a remarkably narrow range, with fog and clouds gaining the lower hand over the sun’s position as an influencer.
Mom continues to improve and impress, according to sis. Had her first PT session today and did great! Wife, on the other hand, is not doing well, in her words. Not surprising for me. She and stress aren’t good friends. Her anxiety climbs and she becomes physically challenged with a great deal of pain. She’s working through her protocols to cope. As for me, other than physical limitations and restricted diet, I feel fab. Didn’t do much yesterday except nibble on crackers and binge on a series called “Suspicions” with short naps. Found I wasn’t comfortable sitting at the desk, as that strained my abs, so the planned typing didn’t come about. Tried other places and positions but all felt wrong and I didn’t have enough to push through. Part of this is because my wife gave a steady stream of reminders not to do too much. I didn’t want to add to her stress, so I backed off.
I also ate too many crackers, I think. I had some vegan, gluten-free vegetarian broth. No flavor, at all. Really disappointing, so I went back to the crackers. We had picked up some TJ’s garlic-flavored naan crackers, water wafers, and something from Costco, potato crackers seasoned with seaweed. I didn’t think much of the water wafers, but my taste buds highly rated the other two.
Plans today are to catch up on writing, reading, and blogging. I finished reading my last two books, both fiction on my travels. Gravity’s Rainbow is available at long last. Yes, I confess, I haven’t read the classic. Found it in the library system and put it on hold back in July. I began reading a terrific (so far) historical fiction book by Amy Stewart called Woman Waits with Gun. Ironically, I’d purchased it at Half-Priced Books in Monroeville on the 2023 visit to attend my nephew’s marriage in Pittsburgh. I know this because the receipt was inside. It sat in the TBR stack by the bed until I came back from Pittsburgh. I’d just finished a romantasy and a crime thriller and needed a read, and ‘lo, there it was.
Over on streaming land, we are into the latest season of “Slow Horses” and “Down Cemetery Road” and are ready to begin “King and Conqueror” and the latest season of “Diplomat”. This is augmented by “The Graham Norton Show” and rewatching “Would I Lie to You”. I cut the last short because laughing and coughing really rile my incisions.
Today’s music is out of dreamland again. The Neurons, looking over my shoulder as I reviewed my strange and amusing dream, came up with “Rocket” by the Smashing Pumpkins, in the morning mental music stream. That was sort of funny on their part, as I’d been dreaming about being on a spaceship. I’ve gone through this before, dreaming of being traveling in space, then awakening to bafflement about where I am.
Another of my dreams was very short. This was about kittens gamboling on me, mewing until I got up to feed them. I thought there were two kittens but when I put out the food, four more appeared with sharp cries, “Me, too!” I rhetorically responded, “How many kittens do we have,” as one more little grey fluff of floof waddled in. That was all the dream offered.
I’ve been looking at news but don’t have many thoughts on it at this point. Trump is being Trump, as far as I can tell, with all the mendacity, greed, and arrogance that implies.
Hope peace and grace find their way out of the fog to you. My body is suggesting it’s time to lay down again. Think I’ll do as it says. Cheers
Twozda, November 4, 2025, has pounced on us like a kitten hunting a leaf. 51 F in Ashlandia, rain clouds hide the sun. Rain is expected to visit off and on throughout the day. More leaves are surrendering to time, filling the ground with fading, decaying colors.
Mom continues to be lively back in Pennsylvania, according to sis. Which is thought by all of us to be good. Thought I’d share this photo of her from her 90th birthday. Yes, that’s a kitchen knife in her hand.
Mom, 90 birthday celebration, October, 2025
Today’s music is owed to a dream. This was one of those long, movie-like dreams my mind spins to entertain me while I slip. In this one, I was part of a group of young people. We’d found some books, then realized there was significance to the books, and then, ‘lo, a book was missing. We knew who collected the books, so we thought we’d recreate the journey he took to collect the books. Maybe that would reveal the missing book. We were traveling by train and car mostly, and yes, the travel took us behind the old ‘Iron Curtain’ into previous nations controlled by the Soviet Union. There was romance and comedy along with suspense. It reminded me of the 1980s Dabney Coleman film, Cloak & Dagger.
Anyway, my amused reflection of the dream triggered The Neurons into offering songs about spies in the morning mental music stream. After considering different music, The Neurons concluded that Carly Simon and “Nobody Does It Better” is the best choice.
Dick Cheney died. I was surprised. Thought he’d died in the 1990s. I knew he’d been re-animated to be Veep under Dubya, but I thought that spell wore off once he was removed from office. He was only 84, which also surprised me because he often seemed very old. The tributes will pour in for him. They’ll gloss over what he did to help forge a path to our current mess and speak of his service to the nation. Few will mention how extremely wealthy and powerful he became as part of that service. He did speak out against Trump in the 2024 elections and endorsed Kamela Harris. Just noting that.
Speaking of Trump, the Trump created Epstein Government Shutdown of 2025 rolls on. As someone else predicted, Trump became TACO and yielded somewhat on SNAP. Judges ruled that he must pay it but I think it’s most likely he’s doing it due to voters turning against MAGA politicians who worried about losing their seats, which might lead to the House flipping in 2026. Like others, I think Stephen Miller strongly influences Trump, and that having people die from starvation, even if in red states, is okay with the Regime. Death from starvation will make people more desperate and pliable, is their reasoning. That reasoning then goes, those folks will be willing to work for lower wages and can probably be pressed into service doing jobs that migrant workers used to do. Yes, the Trump Regime is trying to create a class of low-wage slave labor, like we had in ‘the good old days’, and thus help ‘make Amurica great again’. Sickening. Bet Epstein is smirking down on Trump, or up on him, depending on your thoughts about the afterlife.
In a Truth Social post, Trump said Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program benefits “will be given only when the Radical Left Democrats open up government, which they can easily do, and not before!”
There’s the TACO we know! Breaking the law, breaking the law. Not taking responsibility. Blaming someone else, as he always does. And screwing We the People.
Analysis I’ve read said that not paying SNAP will disproportionately affect his beloved MAGA base. Of course, in Trump’s altered reality, SNAP recipients are all scammers, people illegally in the United States, or people on drugs. The Trump Regime dismisses the idea that income-challenged families and individuals, the disabled, and children depend on SNAP. That administration is deliberately, maliciously, and dangerously warped.
Off I go. Hope grace and peace spring out from their hiding places and embrace us all. Till then, I’ll coffee up. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 