Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
I live a dull life
Behind the blinds
Peering out to see –
Is anyone trying
to get inside?
Watching all those neighbors
Coming and go
Wondering if the police
Are ever gonna show.
The crimes they’re committing
In my mind
Are the terrible most worse crimes
Of all time.
I need a big stick
To beat them all down.
Until I do, they’ll treat me
like some big orange clown.
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.
Ashland, Oregon — February 12, 2026.
It’s too dark out now to see the weather but at 36 F, it’s not warm. We are expecting a 60-degree high, so sunshine must be coming.
Papi is bugged because we’re up early, showing this by walking around, sniffing and chatting. We’re up early for my dental surgery, so this is a brief entry.
Besides surgery day, it’s also President Lincoln’s birthday, a time for sales, speeches, and reflections. Lincoln was a driving force behind the Republican Party. Hard to believe that the GOP came to be created in a time of polarization and a fight over slavery that ended in war. Now we stand again, a nation polarized by values and philosophy, wondering if it will end again in war.
In his Gettysburg Address, Lincoln referred back to the Declaration of Independence and the founders’ idea, never fully realized, “All men are created equal.” We’ve since modified laws to be more inclusive so that this idea isn’t limited to a subset of our nation’s citizens, but by all. Yet some still try to reject the principle that we are all equal. We hear again that no, certain people are not, based upon where they were born, their sexual orientation, or religion. Instead of being the inclusive vision first mentioned, some are trying to alter that vision. Racism and sexism are both being more openly practiced.
Honoring the sense of freedom, here’s the Who with “I’m Free”. May you and all your family be free, healthy, and safe. Cheers
Stepping into the coffee shop, I immediately scan for a table and chair to sit and write.
It’s late morning and busy. Aha, though — two tables are there for —
“Hey, Michael.”
I’m being accosted from across the room. The speaker is a barista. Having shouted out my name, they’ve busy multi-tasking.
Spotting Kat first, I begin, “Hey, Ka — “
I see Natalie.
I don’t know which called out.
So I finish, “Talie.”
Chuckling to myself about this, I dumped my gear at a table and head to the counter. Kat is manning the register and Natalie is busy preparing my coffee. I hear Natalie say, “Curling,” before she turns away.
Kat asks, “Let me ask you, Michael. Are you watching the Olympics?”
“Only the curling,” I reply.
Natalie roars with laughter as Kat’s mouth drops open.
“No way,” Kat finally says.
“Yes, way,” I answer. “By the way. When I came in, I heard one of you say hello to me. I didn’t know who it was, so I called you Katalie.”
The two bend over with laughter. “We ARE Katalie,” Kat shouts. Whipping toward each other, she and Natalie exchange high fives.
I pay and take my coffee. The writing day has an auspicious beginning.
A foul odor haunts the master bathroom, where a water closet shares a tiled shower stall.
When the smell — something smelly but not sweet — struck a few days ago, I thought, what the hell is that? Then I began trying to figure it out.
I’m really not sure where the smell is coming up. Several ideas hit my brain: broken or backed-up sewer line, broken toilet seal, or shower P trap, with an almost ancillary worry, maybe it’s a dead animal or animal latrine in the crawl space.
The shower isn’t used that often, typically three times a week, typically three to six minutes. I know this because I’m the only one who uses it, so I know when someone steps into the shower instead of the bath.
The smell lacks the ‘sweet decay’ that a dead animal often exudes. It’s more of a crappy smell. I noticed, too, that it seemed to dissipate when I showered. That said, I wasn’t positive that I wasn’t just becoming tolerant with exposure. The smell isn’t growing, either.
There’s no smell outside, and no wet areas or especially green growths, so I don’t think it’s a broken sewer line. The floor around the toilet isn’t soft, wet, or showing stains, and the toilet doesn’t rock when I use it, so I don’t think it’s the toilet wax seal.
Given what I’ve read and experienced, I think it’s that P trap. So now I’ll investigate, try different suggestions, see what results.
It’s not the largest problem I face, or the world has. Just another thing to pull my attention from other things.
Just what 2026 needs.
Tuesday, February 10, 2026, finds Ashland reunited with sunshine. White and grey faintly marble a powerful blue sky with 44 degrees F on the thermometer.
All is not well, as Papi pointed out. Hustling in from outside, he turned and snapped a sharp meow at the wind. Winds are at the evilest of the evil, in the ginger wonder’s opinion. After cleaning the wind off him, he curled up, pacifying his sour mood with a nap.
Hard to think that we’re already ten days into February. 2026 has no speed governor and the days seem like they’re tearing along. It already feels like the month was a year with everything going on. Trump’s hold seems diminished, and that appears reflected in less violence, although his hate remains turned up.
We’re still awaiting many outcomes. The Trump Effect of transforming things to trash has hold of the crypto market and the US dollar is losing value. Part of the White House is literally demolished. The full revelations of Trump’s multiple appearances in the Epstein files is still snaking to the surface.
Yet, the Roberts Court somehow hasn’t announced an announcement about the Trump tariffs legality, even though arguments were heard months ago. It’s almost like they’re stalling.
In hilarious news, Senator Rick Scott, a strong Trump supporter, insisted that US Olympian daring to employ their freedom of speech to criticize the nation should be stripped of their uniform because the United States a ‘beacon of freedom and democracy’. Apparently, what he’s saying hasn’t sunk into the Florida senator’s brain.
And despite the speed of the month, we’re still awaiting the official jobs report, which was due last week.
With all that going on, Trump’s approval ratings are going down like the Titanic. It’s almost like a spell has broken.
And that transports me to today’s music.
The Neurons have “I Put A Spell On You” playing in my morning mental music stream. The song was originally called up in response to a dream about discovering someone had cursed me. As I thought about the day’s news headlines and Trump’s activities, I thought the song fit the need as Tuesday’s theme music. There are several wonderful covers of this song but I’m going with the one which surfaced in my head first, the CCR version.
Once more into the day. I hope that peace and grace bring you fair winds and good news.
Cheers
We attended a musical show in Talent last Sunday. The woman beside me started chatting during intermission. Eventually, she asked, “Where do you live?”
“Ashland. And you?”
“Ashland. I moved here in 1976. When did you move to Ashland?”
“Over twenty years ago.”
“Really? A town this size, I meet many people but I don’t recall seeing you before.”
I smiled. “Well, we’re southies. We live on the southern end.”
“Southies.” She laughed. “I like that. Yes, I’m on the northwestern end of town.”
The show resumed. I wondered where she did her grocery shopping. Ashland is unofficially divided into the center, north, and south. North Ashland doesn’t have a grocery store. The south is the town’s newest area and offers five stores. A small Safeway is the only store in the center.
Townies who have lived here a while seem to go to Medford for their shopping needs, especially WinCo. From conversations, it seems like the southern stores — Market of Choice, Shop N Kart, Albertson’s, BiMart, and Grocery Outlet — haven’t been there ‘that long’. In fact, old timers often regale us with what ‘used to be there’ and how they loved those previous places.
I didn’t get a chance to ask my new friend where she shopped, but I’ll be sure to take it up with her, next time I run into her.
Floofcedarian (floofinition) – Someone learning about the rudimentary needs of animals, especially housepets. Origins: floofcedary “floof primer” (going back to Middle Flooflish floofcedary, derived from Middle Flooftin floofcedārium). First known use, 1703 – “Practickal Advice for Floofcedarians”.
In Use: “After rescuing a vocal kitten from a heavy, Sly and Benji became overnight floofcedarians, chasing information on the net about to care for the first pet either of them had ever had.”
Sunday, February 8, 2026.
I watch Papi cat trotting over the lawn, skinnying between raindrops. I say something about the weather at the door. He snaps a meow back, letting his tail and whiskers talk about his disapproval.
45 F, sunshine doesn’t have a chance against this rain and fog, so 48 is the expected high. Settling into his favorite chair, Papi has assumed the napping position. I think it’s worthy of emulation.
But a brunch engagement with a dozen friends at a farmhouse is in our near future, followed by attendance at “Spotlight on Aretha Franklin” at the Camelot Theater. We joked about going to see the documentary, “Melania”, which ended in derisive laughter.
I expect political conversations during brunch. All leaned decisively Democrat and progressive and disapprove of ICE, Trump, and Project 2025. I’m sure ICE at the Super Bowl, to be played today down in Santa Clara, California, will be among our topics.
Anyway, I’m rushing this morning, having just helped with the preparing of a cheese and fruit tray that we’re contributing to brunch, so my comments are short.
A song, “Golden”, has trapped The Neurons, and they’re feeding it into my morning mental music stream. “Golden”, a K-pop hit featured in an animated movie about demon hunters, has been in heavy circulation in a few radio stations. Suddenly The Neurons are very aware of it and keep it alive in my head. So, help, I must share it with others to free myself. Enjoy this video of
EJAE, Audrey Nuna and Rei Ami — Huntrix — performing “Golden”.
I hope you’re safe, warm, and healthy, and stay so, maybe with a visit from peace and grace to boost your spirits.
See you on the other side of the day. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 