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.
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.
Floofline(floofinition) – An imposed date or time by which things must be done for animals. Origins: Unknown, first cited in writing in 1885,“A Feline’s Guide to A Well-Managed Household”.
In Use: “Abig-gal joined the house on February first, and established her flooflines for fresh water, breakfast, lunch, supper, dinner, tea, snacks, treats, and desserts by February second.”
In Use: ‘In Chapter 1 of “A Feline’s Guide to A Well-Managed Household”, Queen Florence decreed, “Humans must be made to understand that flooflines, such regular feeding times, must be established and consistently met if there is to be order and happiness among the household pets.”‘
The Trump Administration offered an updated food pyramid this week.
A woke exercise, they stood against ultra-processed foods, just like Michelle Obama did. Unlike the former First Lady, Trump advocates eating lots of fat.
Trump’s food pyramid became a mocking exercise after Brooke Rollins suggested that you can have your fat and eat it, too, by suggesting a really, really, really cheap diet — which she also claims is healthy.
Tortilla, broccoli, ‘a piece of chicken’: US agriculture secretary mocked for ‘money-saving’ meal
In answer to questions, Brooke Rollins said,
“I think the question you’re asking, and it’s a really important one, is while we’re asking Americans to reconsider what they’re eating, are we actually asking Americans – especially those who are living on the margins – are we asking them to spend more on their diet?
“And the answer to that is no,” she continued. “We’ve run over 1,000 simulations. It can cost around $3 a meal for a piece of chicken, a piece of broccoli, you know, a corn tortilla and one other thing. So there is a way to do this that actually will save the average American consumer money.”
Trump claims everything is going so great, he jokes about canceling the elections. My question becomes, if it’s all going so well, why is the Trump Administration running simulations for how Americans can eat cheaply?
Tell you what. Let’s see Trump walk the talk. Let’s see him live off the $3 meal of chicken, broccoli spear, corn tortilla, and ‘one other thing’.
My sense, given Trump’s previous responses to things, is, he will say, “Why should I? I don’t have to.” Because that’s how he works and thinks. “More for me, less for you,” is his overarching motto.
Besides, Trump knows as much as we do that the suggested diet is absolute bullshit.
It was the weirdest damn thing. I backed out of my garage and drive this lovely Saturday morning. As I straightened the car and drove down the street, a gray Tesla 3 pulled from the curb, preceding me. We were close enough and angled right that I noticed the driver — an older-looking, white woman, short gray hair.
She went down and stopped at the hill’s bottom. As I pulled in behind her, another gray Tesla 3 cruised by. Hand to Dog, that Tesla’s driver looked just like the first two.
The Tesla ahead turned left, falling in line with the first gray Tesla. Gasping with delighted surprise at such serendipity, I pulled up to the stop sign. Another gray Tesla 3 went by with another white, female, gray-haired driver.
No way, I thought. It was almost like a surreal dream.
Settling behind the three gray Teslas with their gray-hair white drivers, I wondered. Is this a trick of my mind, or triplets driving identical cars? I also imagined that an elaborate ruse was being pulled, but who was the intended victim?
Temptation arose to follow them and see if the three cars ended at the place and if the drivers really looked alike. But coffee, writing, and routine called, and I peeled away, leaving the mystery to be solved by another.
Frida finds our Ashland home peaceful. Alexa says it’s 55 F outside, but my systems put it at 38. Other locations report it’s 48. The invisible fog has lifted, leaving sunbeams a clear path to spread warmth and light through the blue sky.
Today is January 16, 2026. 60 is our projected high, kicking off a week of days in the low to mid 60s. We’ll see if that holds, given weather’s changing ways.
Whatever the temperature, Papi is in good spirits. Patio sunshine glows off his white and orange as he grooms after breakfast.
After a night of a long series of dreams, I’m in a very good mood. One had me with Jerry Seinfeld and George Constanza going to a small, intimate open-air comedy festival. I was with Jerry, who was driving, while George followed in his own car. Although an interesting time, I lost my sunglasses. I kept thinking I’d lost them in the water but consoled myself, it’s only a dream.
I also feel very good with where my health is — today. I’ve kept my lost weight off and still run and exercise. My feet, legs, and ankles stay almost pain-free, with twinges sometimes remarking on what I’m doing. Aided by supplements, my abdominal discomfort and bloating have diminished. I remain careful about what I eat and always give myself time to digest before thinking about eating something else.
While I continue to percolate with dream details, feeling healthy and peaceful, I’ve avoided looking at the news. Trump has a habit of making a good day bad, and a bad day — worse. I’ll eventually scan headlines, hoping that ICE violence isn’t climbing, the U.S. hasn’t attacked another nation, or measles aren’t spreading.
Looking at Trump statements over the last several years, remarks made by him counter history or demonstrate a weak grasp the government. I calculated that Trump has been alive for about 32% of the United States’ age as a nation. You’d think he would’ve picked up that information by now. He is college educated.
Now, for no particular reason at all, The Neurons are playing “The Passenger” in the morning mental music stream. Iggy Pop wrote, performed, and released it in 1977. As it plays, I think, here we go, off on another daily journey.
Hope your journey today is happy and carefree, graced with peace and hope. Cheers
Invisible fog continues to blanket Ashland. Alexa declares that it’s foggy in Ashland, 36 degrees F. I see 30 on my system and only blue sky, sunshine, and hard white frost outside. The difference between what she reports and what I see annoys me. I like things to be upfront and clear.
One other clear point is that our local snow-free winter continues. I’m not a snow fan. Yes, it can transform a landscape into a beautiful, magical white land, but problems arrive, too. It’s beautiful in the short term but melding snow often sometimes refreezes. Commutes become sloppy and hazardous. Deliveries are held up, and people run out of home supplies, and store shelves
I’ve been thinking about those invisible weather forces as I consider the skein of Trump’s affordability announcements. Trump often frames affordability as a ‘Democrat scam’ or ‘Democrat hoax’. But he’s spending a lot of time addressing it. Much of what he’s offering is splashy and excites his supporters.
What Trump offers does not provide answers, but bandages to symptoms. Root causes — low wages, high prices due to product availability, including housing supply — are untouched.
Peering out my window, thinking about the invisible forces giving me clear skies and sunshine as Alexa tells me it’s foggy, reminds me that nothing Trump is proposing will address the invisible forces driving our economic issues. Perceptions of even potential war trigger protective, ‘just in case’ behavior. Credit dries up, interest rates — including mortgages — rise, and supplies decrease.
Just as I can’t see the big picture on what goes on behind Alexa’s weather observation, Trump seems inure to the big picture behind global economics. It’s not that I’m an expert, but these are things I’ve witnessed during my life and read about in history books.
The Neurons eagerly insert “Invisible Touch” into my morning mental music stream after these early morning thoughts about invisibility. Phil Collins wrote the song, recorded and released by Genesis in 1986. A playful song, “Invisible Touch” summarizes the way another person can sometimes get under your skin in ways you can’t see, but you can feel.
Coffee is up. The first few sips are hot and fresh on my tongue. Neurons clamor for some of it, and I smile.
This is Thirstda, January 15, 2026. Time to go meet the day and find our way through its touch, invisible and otherwise. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 