My wife and I were our current age and traveling in her 2003 Gray Focus. I was driving.
We stopped somewhere to eat. It looked like a good choice but after we began looking around more, it turned out to be a mess. Tables were set up as if they were in a fine dining room but it was outdoors, on uneven fields of uncut grass. Many other people were just like us, trying to figure out WTH was going on.
My wife was very hungry and said, “Screw this, I’m just getting some food.” Then she stalked through the grass, where the food was in silver serving bowls among the clumps of grass. Finding some food, she took it to a table.
I was trying to tell her, “Wait, I don’t think that’s what we’re supposed to do.”
A harried young male waiter hustled to her, asking for her order. She replied, “I’m eating this.”
The waiter turned to me and asked, “What are you ordering?”
I was bewildered. “I don’t know what’s available. Where’s the menu?”
But as I looked around, I saw another family doing as my wife did. Noticing scrambled eggs in a bowl on the ground and a red plate, I picked them up and said, “I’m having this.”
The waiter looked both dejected and smug. Writing something on a pad, he left.
Eating some of our food but not happen with it, my wife and I returned to her car. It was cold outside by then, so I started the car to warm us up. I noticed ice inside the car and told her, “Look how cold it got.” Then I opened windows to let the ice out and continued running the engine to warm the car and clear the windows.
The dream ended on a view of us in her little gray car, waiting for the windows to clear.
Ashland, Oregon — Sunday, March 1, 2026. It’s raining and foggy in Ashland, with temperatures tottering around 50 degrees F. Not a shred of sunshine out there, and a high of 57 is expected. Spring is muscling in.
It’s a day of questioning for me, starting with what’s going on with Mom to what’s going on in the world and the nation.
I learned yesterday that another sister — our youngest — had been going to visit Mom, taking her things, etc. The youngest has been designated as our contact with Mom because she has the best relationship of everyone living nearby. I reached out to her to see how Mom was doing.
The youngest related that when she arrived, Mom was playing bingo with five or six others at a table and apparently laughing and having fun. Mom told the youngest that she’d gone to church, which she enjoyed, and seemed pretty content and happy.
After wheeling Mom back to Mom’s room, the youngest found clothes all over Mom’s area. Mom complained she didn’t have hangers. Sis pointed out that they’re in the closet, and told her, you need to look, and helped Mom tidy.
Then, though, today, Mom asked the youngest to bring her cookies — “Anything but chocolate chip.” Oatmeal raisin cookies were brought, which made Mom mad. She then gave my sister ‘mean faces’ and quit speaking with her. The youngest rolled Mom to the dining room so she could eat, and then left.
The youngest sister also related that Mom’s roomie is 95 years old with congestive heart failure and two ‘bad shoulders’. She had a hospice aid visiting. My sister suggested that maybe we should get Mom a hospice aid. That took me back, because there’s nothing indicated to me at this point that Mom is ready for hospice.
It’s just as troubling and confusing elsewhere in the world. Trump ordered the U.S. to attack Iran, a joint operation with Israel, “Operation Epic Fury”. While Iran’s supreme leader was killed, Iran retaliated. Americans were killed and injured. More critically, is this the opening that will explode the area into another war? Trump and his advisors seem to think in terms of gunship diplomacy and regime change.
Trump — the peace president, a self-made assertion that has Orwell laughing in his grave — said that the attack was to protect Americans. “Our objective is to defend the American people by eliminating imminent threats from the Iranian regime,” Trump said in prerecorded remarks posted on White House social media accounts early Saturday morning.”
Back in 2011, Trump said President Obama would start a war with Iran. “Our president will start a war with Iran because he has absolutely no ability to negotiate. He’s weak and he’s ineffective.”
Who is weak and ineffective now, Trump?
Protests in Baghdad broke out, with “Death to Israel, death to America,” being shouted. This smacks of the 1970s and 1980s, so it sickens me that we seem to be going into another war spiral. I hope to hell that’s not true.
As I sat with that information, news arrived of a mass shooting in Austin, Texas. Next came updated information about deaths in Iran where 85 are reported killed: “The majority of the dead are schoolgirls aged between seven and 12 years old, according to the regime-controlled news outlets Tasnim and Fars.”
Senseless killing, once again. I expect anger and hatred in Iran to rise in response. This is exactly where we were before, using violence and killing to win hearts and minds. It did not work then; I don’t expect it to work now.
BTW, remember when Trump vowed no more wars when he campaigned? Guess that promise meant as much as Mexico paying for the wall and lower food and energy prices.
The song in my morning mental music stream came when I first looked out the windows, before reading any news. “Rainy Night in Georgia” came out in 1970. The Neurons put it in there when I thought, “Another rainy day in Ashland.” I didn’t remember who performed the song and looked it up to learn it was Brook Benton.
I call again for peace and grace to find its way to us, and maybe it will someday. Right now, it feels less likely than it did last week. But things will change. It’s really just question of how and why.
The Trump trajectory is pretty much what many of us anticipated, based on his first administration and what he’s often said.
Aggressively going after immigrants, which Trump and his administration always call ‘illegals’ and categorize as criminals, he has swept up U.S. citizens and children. Right now, a 9-year-old child in a detention center wishes she was dead. She’s been locked up for eight months. That’s Trump’s soulless, uncaring nation for you, Evangelicals and all.
Affordability remains a huge problem. While promising tax breaks, Trump has done little to address increasing the housing supply, which is the basis for the high housing costs. It’s simple supply and demand.
Not for Trump. Trump instead blames ‘illegals’ for high housing prices. Experts counter with a much more nuanced responses which don’t mention immigrants, no matter what their legal status is. His policies miss the mark because his policies have nothing to do with the issue.
Trump tariffs did not lead to the lower prices he promised for Day One. He did claim credit for doing it:
“Grocery prices, energy prices, airfares, mortgage rates, rent and car payments are all coming down, and they’re coming down fast,” Trump said in a wide-ranging speech, adding: “We’ve done a hell of a job in 12 months.”
As usual, Trump failed, then lied. Egg prices have dropped but chicken, beef, and coffee prices are up, along with housing, cars,beer, and insurance premiums. We the People know if, if you’re not a MAGA. We feel it.
Trump’s trademark lying continues, aided now by White House officials. One is Johnny MAGA. Johnny MAGA appears to be Wade Garrett, who works in the Trump Administration. When ICE agent Jonathon Ross killed Renee Nicole Good in Minnesota earlier this year, Johnny MAGA rushed fake news out showing the U.S. flag burning, pushing a fake narrative to justify Good’s murder.
We anticipated that Trump would gut the Department of Justice and use it to persecute political opponents. That’s exactly what he’s been doing, going after people who were responsible for investigating Trump and his crimes, including more FBI agents this week.
In 2024, Trump said, “Get out and vote! Just this time. You won’t have to do it anymore! Four more years, you know what? It’ll be fixed, it’ll be fine, you won’t have to vote anymore.”
Now many speculate that Trump is hatching a ‘national emergency’ to stop elections in 2028.
Given who Trump is and his history, there is every reason to worry about the future of our elections.
Sunlight streams in through the open blinds. Winter snow melts away as light clouds cruise through a blue field.
My wife sits up. “This would be a good day for our roasted veggie soup.”
The roasted vegetable soup is all about potatoes, carrots, broccoli, and garlic. After quartering, cubing, slicing, the veggies are rubbed with salt, pepper, olive oil, and turmeric roasted at 425 degrees. Rubbed with oil and housed in foil, the garlic is roasted with them.
When the vegetables are done roasting thirty-five minutes later, the garlic cloves are released and added to the vegetables. They all go into a big pot. Two quarts of mushroom broth is added. Boil, then simmer or thirty minutes.
As they boil, biscuits are rolled out and baked.
Such wonderful smells flavor the air. This is when our house is at its best as a home.
Just in time to save my sanity, I clicked on Jill Dennison’s Saturday Afternoon ‘Toon Time! Quite a collection of humor, I encourage you to check them out. Meanwhile, here are my Saturday super-seven favorites.
My surgery has been over for hours. After catching up on sleep, I’m ravenous because I haven’t had food since ten last night. With a diet limited to cold soft foods, I’m eating sorbet and thinking about what I can eat.
My wife begins reading an article aloud. “Women are having problems creating intimate relationships with men because of men’s addiction to porn.” One part is about a woman asking men if they watch porn. They deny it until she shares what kind of porn she likes.
The story swerves into men spending hours in the bathroom. The writer mocks the idea that they’re having long bowel movements and mentions they probably wouldn’t be in there that long without their phones.
“They’re watching porn on their phones?” I ask.
My wife nods.
“I don’t get that. What in the world would you be able to see on that little screen?”
“I know.” My wife points at our television. “We have that big screen. I watch carefully and feel like I still miss a lot.”
“Yes, and people watch sports on their phones, too. I don’t get that. During football games, they’re always blowing up scenes to show, is the knee down? Was his toe out of bounds?”
“How do people see these things on phone screen?” my wife responds.
“Exactly.”
My wife puts her feet up and closes her eyes. It’s been a long day for her. She had to go in with me and stay for the entire surgery, then drive me home.
I finish my sorbet and wonder what to eat next that’s cold and soft and fantasize about a hot bowl of chile.
Dreamed I was going to a camp. Just a small sort of outdated place, with low wood-framed buildings painted brown or dark red, with a flat, slanted roof. A woman I’d just met was going with me, along with her sister.
We arrived in a 1970s era dark Dodge Charger or Ford Torino. I was driving and it was night when we arrived. The sisters had no place to sleep. I told them they could share my bed or sleep in the car, or I could sleep in the car, but I didn’t really want to. They ended up sleeping with me, one on either side.
Later, we got up to go find food and ran into other people I casually knew. They had soup and bread. We asked where they got it and headed toward a little shack they indicated. It was a dark place with a low ceiling, where we discovered we needed to pay in marks. I didn’t have any marks so the sister paid a 1,000 marks for food for me.
We ate and then separated. I wandered, exploring, following winding dirt paths between the buildings and trees at this tiny resort. Night was falling and I didn’t have any marks, so I didn’t know what to do. I did have dollars but not a large amount.
It was dark. I went back to my car. Another car, very like it, was parked beside it. Both with nose in, the rear ends toward me. As I reached my car, I looked over to the other car and saw the sisters sitting in it. I wondered if they’d gotten into the wrong car by mistake.
Dream end.
This was one of three dreams remembered from last night, but the most coherent and lucid.
Can’t recall much of the other two dreams. They’re shifting, like almost there, not quite remembered or forgotten. The strongest of the two had me carrying baking tins. Something finished was in it but I don’t know what. Others were doing the same. Many of the others looked like me but were slightly different. When I offered my baking tin, I saw that their offering was fully risen and mine was flat. I went off, got another like magic, and it was full. I went to give it to someone else, but discovered it was flat again. All of this took place outside in bright sunshine on a calm day.
The main thing I remember from the third dream was that I was happy and laughing a lot. And younger, but an adult.
With another year under Trump completed, it’s time to take stock.
I was one of those who predicted that Trump would be aggressive in his immigration policies and against political opponents, and would be detrimental to our nation. I believed Trump’s social, economic, and trade policies would worsen life for people in poverty or needing assistance. And, while there may have been places where the Federal government could have been trimmed, DOGE’s cuts did not address needs or cause and effect.
Dealing with flattening revenue streams and running out of surplus funds, local and state taxes and fees are rising to compensate for Federal cutbacks.
Insurance rates and repair costs for personal vehicles are rising. So, too are healthcare premiums and healthcare costs, further eroding spending power for many families and individuals.
Uncertainty among corporations is showing up in job reports. Corporate layoffs touched a level not seen since the 2008 recession. New employment is flat with companies backing off hiring plans. Minority unemployment rose, and disparities widened.
None of this surprises me. History and science told me that this is where Donald Trump’s philosophy would lead. The results are catching up with his decisions.
Cold ruled Ashland last night. Temperatures fell into the high 20s in my zone but, guided by sunshine and clear skies, we’re pressing into the upper 60s today. It’s 57 F now.
I’m late with my posting because early running around was required. My wife’s big do was on Sunday. Maybe things were rented and borrowed. We had to wash and clean it all and returned it today.
The do was a success, celebrating Mary Bergstrom’s fifty years as a exercise instructor with our Family Y. Mary is still going strong after all those years and remains beloved by her students. My wife was asked to organize it and did a great job, although it was intense at times and not without conflict, irritation, and frustration. It’s all done now, another memory to pull out.
Meanwhile, as I watch Trump’s grip on the United States flailing, as shown in approval polls, he joked about canceling the 2026 elections, and then mused about taking over elections in ‘some’ states. Those would be the states run by Democrats, blue states which challenge his assault on our norms, traditions, and laws.
Many, including me, immediately jumped up with notice that Trump is always insisting that he’s for state rights, the foundation for his moves to reduce the Federal government’s size and regulations. As always, Trump’s logic is conditional. He’s for something until it’s in his interests to be against it. In short, whatever most benefits Trump will be his political position.
Personally, I consider this another distraction tactic. He distracted from the Epstein files with ICE surges and military actions amid more threats to sue others. Meanwhile, he also tore down the White House East Wing, obsessed over Greenland, and whined against not being awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. He also declared affordability was a hoax, but that inflation was ‘fixed’, like he’d darned a hole in a sock.
So now, here we go again, with Trump defiling something that works under the guise, “It’s broken and only he can fix it”. We hear this from him, yet he keeps breaking more things, making things worse for many of us. All I’ll say about it now.
For music today, The Neurons have me humming, “I Guess That’s Why They Call It the Blues”, as it plays in my morning mental music stream. The 1983 Elton John offering is a mellow reflection of love, living, remembering, and being, easily slotting into my state at the moment.
I hope that life brings you grace, peace, and good health today and every day. Cheers
