Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
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.
Wenzda, January 7, 2026, has settled in for its time in the spotlight. A winter storm is supposed to be striking us. I spend time watching for signs of it.
Southern and eastern views earn sun-filled eyes. It’s a gorgeous day out there! Moving on to the west, my spirits are throttled down by a foggy, white cloud view. I’m not sure how to take these signs.
I check four weather sources, and all agree, it’s 44 degrees F out there. 45 is our projected high. The alignment between the temperature readings feels like a sign but I don’t know if it’s good or bad.
I likewise don’t know how to process the signs in the political world. Whether it’s the economy, Trump’s latest military adventures or his subtle hints he’s planning more, up is down and down is up. I tell myself, just wait. All will be clear.
Waiting is frustrating because I suspect the outcome is already too clear. For example, some thinkers believe Trump’s military overtures are being tacitly accepted by China and Russia because it provides cover for their military plans. For China, that includes attacking Taiwan. Some analysts tell us that all the signs are there but they’re mostly the same signs we’ve been noticing for a quarter century.
On top of that, I’m thinking about life in general and looking for signs that 2026 will be a better year. Questions stack up: what do I mean by ‘a better year’. Well, in general, I mean a healthier year. Less death among my friends and family and fewer GOP actions that make me fear and worry for my nation’s future. That’s the small tip of a very large iceberg in my sea of worries.
The signs and worry message permeate The Neurons’ bubble. They respond with “Signs”. The original came out in 1971 by the Five Man Electrical Band. Tesla later covered it, putting out their own release in 1990. I resisted choosing between them, giving you a Wenzda twofer.
I hope the signs for you are indicating a better life to come. How that is measured is a matter of your terms. Cheers
The net has a few comments catching my attention today.
It is January 6 and we have the fifth anniversary of Trump’s first attempted coup to remember.
MPS offers a succinct reminder.
Never forget that Republicans voted for this. Three times. That’s your root-cause analysis right there.
Twozda arrived on January 6, 2026 looking for all the world like it was December of 2025. It’s the same greyness which tamped down spirits and kept us chilly, forcing us to turn on the lights during the day and keep the heat running. Temperatures dance the spectrum from 38 F at my house to 41 according to Alexa with Microsoft announcing 47 F. Southern Oregon University comes in with 40.5 F.
My wife joins me at the window. “Are we in it yet?”
“I don’t know.”
She’s referring to the winter storm we’ve been warned about. Located in a protective valley, Ashland’s zone warns snow is expected above 2000 ft in Jackson County with total accumulations up to 6 inches. My house is at 2100 ft, so we in wait and watch mode.
As uncertain as the weather comes more political news. The Trump administration announced they’re withholding social services funds for five states, all of which happen to have Democratic Party leadership. Here I was, nursing the impression that we’re a nation who harbors an all for one and one for all mentality.
Actions like this from Trump undermines our unity. He does so without offering evidence other than a announcement that there’s fraud.
Not offering any evidence is the Trump way. No evidence was ever offered that the boats he ordered to be destroyed carried any drugs. They were destroyed on Trump’s insistence that they carried fentanyl and other narcotics.
As others noted, although Trump kept insisting that Venezuela and President Maduro were involved in transporting fentanyl to the United States, fentanyl wasn’t mentioned in the charges against Maduro and his wife.
After reading the news about Trump’s activities, my mood was cratering. Fortunately, Papi the ginger blade and The Neurons rescued me. Fresh in from the cold weather, I offered Papi, “Treat?” All signs pointed to “Yes!” as his tail went straight up, his back arched, and happiness glinted in his amber gold eyes.
Laughing, I provided the treats. As Papi gobbled them up, I joked about our home being his treat shack.
In a cosmic flash, The Neurons brought “Love Shack” by the B-52’s into the morning mental music stream. I didn’t mind at all. That jaunty 1989 rocker about a funky little place where people went to have fun and socialize is the perfect antidote to the blues attempting to take over. Singing and dancing and a general elevation of spirits can’t be denied when I hear it.
Once again, I put out hope that peace and grace arise to counter what’s happening to our nation and the world. Perhaps we coffee and time, we will prevail. Cheers
My wife came in, sighed, and gave a book report. She reads a lot — over one hundred novels in 2025. I read but not nearly as much, in large part because I write fiction.
I often hear two or three book reports a day from her. Today’s report launched from a familiar sore spot for her.
“Well, I’m enjoying this book, but. I have nine pages left. I know that they’re not going to wrap this story up in nine pages. Not if it’s going to make sense. That means there’s a sequel, a book two, maybe more. Why do they do this? It should be illegal. It should be a crime. If you write a book, it should have an ending, not another thousand book to read.”
Report finished, she stalked back out. A minute later, I heard her singing and cleaning the kitchen. She gets angry about it but at this point, she’s resigned to the situation. I don’t think it’ll be much longer before she begins confirming that the book has an ending before she begins reading it.
We all have our limits.
Munda, January 5, 2026. Fog imposes a grey, wet-looking wall beyond the houses and trees across the street. 37 F is shown on the thermometer and forecasts call for rain and snow, with a ceiling of 38 F forecast. Looks like winter is finally taking an interest in Ashlandia.
I will note that a friend in Alaska was raving about her weather, displaying a thermometer that said it was -2 degrees F. That was the high. She insisted that she prefers it when it stays cold and frozen. According to her, the cycle of warming, melting, and re-freezing is much worse than a steady, consistent freeze. I’ll take her word on that.
My wife and I have been concerned about weather. Videos of king waves slashing the coast and heavy rains and flooding up north and down south worry us. People have been enduring so much foul weather. We’ve been spared but watching the situation, it feels like the storms were slowly pinching in around us. My conspiratorial mind, where I go to harvest ideas, whispers, maybe somebody is controlling the weather.
As we slink into 2026’s first Munda, we’re coping with news that another friend suddenly passed from cancer. More details aren’t yet known. Like Steve, who passed last year, this was another individual we saw at the lake with friends last summer. He seemed fine at the time and didn’t mention any health issues. Just another shock to the system in a cascade of shocks.
As I perused news and texted Mom and Dad’s widow about matters, I told myself to try to be more upbeat and optimistic this week. Weather and the general news tone levels a heavy burden, though.
Considering the weather, I find myself reflecting about Dad more. Born in the 1930s, Dad lived and worked in multiple states and every region. Dad was born in Pennsylvania. Mom was from Iowa, and he met her in either Minnesota or Nebraska.
After my parents married, they lived in Virginia, Texas, and California. He and I lived in West Virginia and Ohio. He was also stationed in the south and in New York and Indiana. Then he moved to Texas and met his third wife, and stayed in Texas.
A poker and pool fan, Dad enjoyed renting an RV and driving from San Antonio in Texas to Laughlin, Reno, and Las Vegas, Nevada. He also rented an RV to visit his other son in Utah. Then the RV was turned east and Dad visited his brother in Kentucky. The next leg was a drive to Georgia so Dad could visit his daughter and grand- and great-grandchildren.
Dad’s wife didn’t go with him. She’d fly to each place and return home! Oh, it’s all so funny to me, and remembering lifts my spirits.
While trying to adjust my mood today, The Neuron suggested a song called “Old Time Rock and Roll”. Bob Seger recorded and released it in 1978. Nothing particularly called me specifically from the lyrics. I appreciate the song’s beat and energy. It’s a good rhythm in the morning music mental stream to kickstart my energy. I’ll also drink some coffee, which will also help.
Hope your day is brighter and warmer than mine. May peace and grace lift your spirits and give us all a shot of optimism. Cheers
Papi the ginger wonder was beating on the front door. Technically, it wasn’t the front door but the narrow vertical window alongside the door. Seeing me approaching, he opened up and let out an indignant meow.
“Okay, okay,” I said, letting him in. Papi dashed past towards his refueling station like an Indy 500 pit stop. As I shut the door, I saw a flyer hanging from the knob.
I walked into the office reading the flyer. “This was on the front door. It’s about a church grand opening.”
My wife answered, “I don’t think we’re interested in that. We’re not church people.”
“I know but I want to know what church it is. Huh, it’s on Siskiyou. It’s a Baptist Church.”
A chortle spilled from my wife. “Oh, hell no. I’m a recovering southern Baptist. No way I’m setting foot in that place.”
Our Ashland weather lands today as drying but wet, leaning toward being warm. This is Sunda, January 4, 2026. We usually expect some threat of snow during this season and month.
The outside does look wintry bleak. White clouds and bare branches bracket splashes of blue sky. Sunshine spills in with weak authority. But temperatures of upper forties to low fifties today, with a high in the fifties being mentioned, is less winter and more spring. Local talk about snow steers conversations toward the lack. Snow in the mountains give us the summer meltwater to keep our land hydrated.
We remind ourselves, look at history. This is Ashland, southern Oregon. Weather spins like a roulette wheel. Wherever it stops is a surprise and doesn’t surprise. Snow can still be on its way.
A new year vibe still reverberates in me, but I look on at what hasn’t changed. While weather is unpredictable, politics remain too predictable. So do family tensions. Mom and sis still butt heads, forcing small matters into huge blow ups.
After all of that, The Neurons playfully flipped “New Year’s Day” into the morning mental music stream. The U2 song from 1983 is written as a love song but a few lines stood out for The Neurons:
And so we’re told this is the golden age
And gold is the reason for the wars we wage
Though I want to be with you, be with you night and day
Nothing changes New Year’s Day
Although nothing changes New Year’s Day, I remind myself, it’s not a nimble world. Emotions, relationships, and politics are forces which require time to shift. A calendar change alone doesn’t provide enough reason for change for many.
I am an optimistic person, though. I look for positive change and I’m ready to embrace it. Let’s hope peace and grace show up and pushes positive change through. Cheers
While out shopping yesterday, my wife and I took a break and had dinner out. Our waiter introduced himself as Zack and displayed charm, humor, and natural friendliness. We’ve eaten at this place regularly, so we quickly ordered and off Zack went.
Our salads were brought and eaten. Then we waited Zack kept coming by, asking, need more beer, more bread, or anything else? We smiled, turned everything down, and waited for our meal.
When it finally arrived, Zack grinned. “I’m sorry it took so long. I was getting worried.”
I replied, “You were getting worried? I was asking myself, what did that Zack do with our order?”
Zack rewarded me by doubling up in laughter.
Michael Seidel, writer 