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.
Driving back home, I pulled up to stop behind other cars. My attention drifted from traffic to the mountains to the north.
Gasp.
Snow.
Not much, mind you, but snow was topping the northern mountains. Excitement building, I leaned forward to look east as traffic moved.
Yes, more snow capped Pilot Rock and the eastern mountains.
Been too long since snow crowned those mountains. More rain is expected tomorrow, moving in from the south later this week. Weather forecasters are calling for snow, but only at higher elevations. Still, if a bit more of the mountains are covered, I’ll be a much less worried camper.
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.”
39 degrees F outside. Blue sky is breaking through patchy fog. Unlike yesterday, we’re seeing sunshine. Yesterday saw rain all day, which is good for the earth and our cisterns and water supply but we still need snow. Today’s high will be 52 F.
Yesterday was Super Bowl LX. I watched a little over half, enjoying Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl halftime show. I understood less than a handful of words, but the vibes of community, life, joy, and love were fully understood and received. Reading today’s news, I understand that Donald Trump hated it.
Besides his negative comments on Bad Bunny, Trump also called skier Lindsey Vonn. Vonn, an Olympic gold medal winner and four-time world champion, broke her leg in Olympic games yesterday while representing the United States.
Going back to the Super Bowl, the other hype often comes from the expensive but interesting commercials seen during the game. I liked the commercial featuring NFL tight ends and an ad where the NFL extolled youth football coaches. Most of the rest strike me as ‘meh’. I actively disliked the Cadillac Formula 1 team ad, which employed President Kennedy’s speech about going to the moon. with the launch of their racing car. You know, good for Cadillac, but come on, it’s a race car in a well-established sport.
Looking out earlier, watching Papi find the sunshine and checking out the trees, The Neurons fed “The Trees” by Rush into the morning mental music stream. The lyrics tell about conflict between maple and oak trees. The maple trees want more sunlight, but the oak trees are too tall. It’s resolved by hatchet, axe, and saw.
Look at that; outside the window, the fog is back and the sunlight is tucked out of sight.
I’m trying to stay safe and sane, optimistic and realistic. Hope you can do the same.
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.
February 7, 2026. Ashland greets me and Saturday with overcast skies and 47 F. Yes, will it rain, snow? Not cold enough for the latter, it’s been a month since significant rain fell.
Today’s high will be in the mid-fifties and precipitation isn’t forecast for today. A Facebook graphic (posted at the bottom) gives visuals to our worries. We keep reminding ourselves, it’s still only February.
Playing with dreams, interacting with Papi, reading the news, and waiting for updates from sis occupies my morning. Papi remains a positive, casual spirit, slipping by my legs in an orange-fur kiss. Dreams are erotic and intriguing.
The news, ah. I enjoy reviews of how insipid the “Melania” documentary seems. Emerging as a vehicle to support Trump’s spin that Melania is so smart and interesting, the quotes and stills reminds me of how flat and empty she always appears.
The documentary set a record for opening day box office receipts for that category. Anecdotally, the theaters have been almost empty. Online, Rotten Tomatoes is a perfect metaphor for this era, critics there granting the movie an 8% approval while ‘audiences’ give it 99%.
That’s so perfectly aligned with this era.
Over in life with Mom, Mom is going through another breakdown. Sis recorded one of the conversations she and Mom had, when sis delivered Mom dinner.
Mom refused to eat and kept telling sis, “You’re not the boss of me.” The split arose because a nurse is coming to see Mom. Mom wanted more time to get ready but Sis works and had to be there to meet the nurse and let her in. Mom needed more time because she wants to hide her medication collection and clean herself up. Mom also accused sis of poisoning her.
Sis couldn’t change plans. Mom spent the night crying and moaning, “I don’t want to be here,” curling up at 6:30 this morning to go to sleep. The nurse was due at 10. The appointment should have taken place; I’m awaiting reports.
In reporting, though, I’ve noticed subtle shifts in sis’s attitude towards Mom. She’s become more reflective, tolerant, and patience.
UPDATE: Sis explained all to the nurse and suggested it sounds like — drum roll — dementia. It was an anti-climatic moment. She suggested Mom needs to see a neurologist. Also — Mom may have a UTI. That wouldn’t be a surprise.
I end up with “Heaven” by the Talking Heads in my morning mental music stream, a quiet little song about a place everyone wants to reach, where they do — nothing but chill. Relax. And like that, The Neurons summon Frankie Goes to Hollywood. Hah!
Hope your day is joyous, and satisfying to you in meaningful ways. I’ll take what I can get, here and now, and try to move on to something better.
Once again, the Loop of Inanity swirled through my life. If you’re not aware of it, the Loop of Inanity is part of the Cycle of Enshittification.
Cory Doctorow coined enshittification for us. Miriam-Webster expanded on its meaning:
“Enshittification is an informal word used to criticize the degradation in the quality and experience of online platforms over time, due to an increase in advertisements, costs, or features. It can also refer more generally to any state of deterioration, especially in politics or society. Similar forms include enshittify and enshittified.”
As part of enshittification’s decay process, many companies will invoke the Loop of Inanity. The Loop of Inanity is recurring cycle in which an organization or system produces contradictory or self-defeating actions because its processes operate without shared awareness, accountability, or context.
In example: American Family Insurance provided my home and car insurance for several decades until a few years ago. A letter was received that they were no longer insuring homes in my area, southern Oregon. Oh, and since they weren’t insuring my home, I was no longer ‘bundled’. Therefore, my car insurance rates were increasing.
In response, I shopped for new home and auto insurance and canceled my policies with American Family Insurance.
Yet, here was a piece of mail from American Family Insurance asking for my business. Urging me to BUNDLE AND SAVE, they also assured me that I WAS PRE-APPROVED FOR THEIR INSURANCE.
Bite me, I said, tearing up the mail and tossing it.
American Family Insurance would have to be the last insurance company in the world before I’ll give them my business, because I don’t like how they gave me the business.
It’s all part of the enshittification of modern life.
Michael Seidel, writer 