A Car & Its Driver
I paced the room, waiting for word about my wife’s 2003 Ford Focus. The car was recently stopping on its own, unsafe and inconvenient.
I resisted thinking it was a battery at first. The car cranked up and fired without any issues but then died.
My wife didn’t think it was a battery. “It starts up. Nothing dims, and it doesn’t have that weak, sluggish sound when it starts.”
I agreed in principle. I checked the battery, confirming, no loose wires or cables, intact and clean. A date on the battery’s side, 05 20, surprised me.
Telling my spouse about it, I added, “I didn’t think the battery was that old.”
We reminisced about buying it. Delivering Food & Friends alone because the COVID pandemic was underway, her car died enroute. She called me to rescue her, which I gleefully did to escape the house.
I reminded her, recent ‘high-discharge’ batteries don’t show the same dying battery symptoms we grew up seeing. Then I recalled, it was cold when the car died on her a couple times this week. Cold affects how much energy batteries can deliver.
I decided, checking the battery was where to begin. An appointment at Les Schwab, a mile away, was made for 10 AM this morning.
I started the Focus without any issue; it died five seconds later. I started it again. Death came five seconds later.
Three times was a charm, but I worried about the car dying as I drove to the appointment.
The Les Schwab tech confirmed, bad battery. “One cell is completely dead,” he said.
That fit, to me. A couple hundred dollars later, we believe we have the problem solved.
Whether the problem is truly solved won’t be clear until the car has been driven normally a few times. I have high confidence it’s fixed, though.
But — knock on wood.
Just in case.
Wenzdaz Theme Music
Hammering echoes through the neighborhood with a roof repair cadence. My line of sight keeps me from identifying which house is under repair, leaving it a Wednesday morning mystery.
Ashland coasted into January 21, 2026, under a slate of rippled white clouds. Air stagnation still rules, and temperatures hang from 38 (my house and online) to 46 (Alexa) degrees F. Highs in the mid 50s are predicted.
I’m disappointed for myself for failing to see the northern lights the other night. I went out twice — ten PM and midnight — but remained out there only twenty minutes each time. I was hopeful, as it was a clear night, with abundant stars visible, but nothing appeared.
I also missed a green fireball going through the PNW sky. A dogwalker a half mile away from my place saw it just before 10 PM on Sunday. I cursed my timing when I read the reports as I’d been out with Papi just a little bit later. Someone photographed it in Beaverton and shared it.
I like reminders that we’re just one planet in a big space, with things going on beyond our world. They gently pull me away from concerns about what’s going on in our world.
Trump and his behavior is one of those concerns. Complaining and combative in his speech at Davos yesterday, he’s assured the world that he won’t take Greenland by force.
But he wants Greenland and thinks it should be sold or given to United States. Trump said, “You can say yes and we’ll be very appreciative — or you can say no, and we will remember.”
Such provocative comments are driving increasing worry over Trump’s behavior.
“Calm down the hysteria,” Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent said Tuesday. “Take a deep breath.”
“America First” does not “mean America alone,” Bessent insisted at a Monday gathering in this Swiss mountain town, where he urged friends “to follow President Trump’s lead for global prosperity, peace and a restored international order.”
If Bessent’s comments are meant to reassure me as a U.S. citizen, they completely missed. Trump announced more tariffs last week against EU members who are NATO allies because another country won’t cede a territory to him. Those actions distinctly say, “America alone.”
I’ll keep watching, worrying about what Trump will do next. It could be in pursuit of Greenland, more actions in Venezuela, or ICE in Minnesota. This behavior doesn’t necessarily shout, “America first,” but it does too often bark, “Trump first.”
Closing, today’s theme music is a Midnight Oil song called “The Dead Heart”. This is simply to honor and remember the drummer, Rob Hirst, who recently passed away. I enjoyed his music and talents, including this song. Watch him drumming in this video. He was having fun, playing music and singing.
Wish you all peace, happiness, and good health as you take on the day. Best of luck, whatever happens. Cheers
In Flight
A jet carves a white trail
Through a clear blue sky
Carrying people
Going home
For business
On vacation
To places unfamiliar
Visiting lands
They used to know
Others could be going back
For a death
A birth –
A love
Different destinations
Bodies
In a frame
Of space
In time
Captured
In a moment
Of gazing
Wishing –
Wondering
Standing
All alone
Mundaz Theme Music
Monday, January 19, 2026 has rolled into Ashland. 32 F at the house, Alexa and the net insist it’s 43. Stagnant air warnings remain, but the blue sky and sunshine offer hope for something better. Highs are expected to kiss 60 F, maybe inch over that.
Why then, am I down?
Something unidentified broke my sleep last night. Papi swears it wasn’t him. Nor do dreams seem like the cause. The three remembered dreams offer the typical blend of wonder, hope, and anxiety. Writing is going well. Maybe my hormones are causing something. Hormones can be sneaky, underhanded energy challenges.
I felt like Dad’s spirit visited me yesterday afternoon. Busy exercising, my mind was free. A sad thought that I couldn’t pick up the phone and call Dad passed through me. Then it was like Dad was suddenly there, grinning and laughing like he was fifty years younger, a startling few moments, to which I smiled.
Dad and I were both in the military for 20 years and enjoyed cars. We also enjoyed robust political discussions.
During my last conversation with him, he told me he disapproved of Trump’s policies and behavior. He also commented that his wife and her family were staunch Trump supporters. Living in Texas, he was surrounded by MAGA, and related that there was ‘no talking to them’. Those folks consistently maintained that Trump could do no wrong.
Frank, Mom’s significant other and Army veteran, scowled when talking about Trump. The man rarely cursed but when he did, it was often in conjunction with Trump.
I’m pleased both of them passed away and won’t need to endure watching Trump’s policies unfold.
The Neurons turned to Albert King and Stevie Ray Vaughn to help me climb out of this funk. “Born Under A Bad Sign” plays in the morning mental music stream. I wasn’t born under a bad sign but I feel like I woke up under one today. I’ll indulge in some blues music, sipping coffee, partake of some news and blog posts, and sort myself.
Hope your day starts under a good sign that things will go well for you, perhaps one with hints of peace and grace.
Another Wandering Thought
Drinking and writing in the coffee shop, I briefly emerged from my fog of words. Conversational strands pulled me in.
“We’re losing ’em all,” a customer said to the barista, Preston.
“Yes,” Preston agreed.
“There’s only one Beatle left, isn’t there?”
I flipped the Beatles’ names through my mind: Paul, John, George, Ringo.
“Yep. No, two,” Preston said.
“Yeah, that’s right, Ringo and George.”
Preston answered, “No, George and John.”
“That’s right,” the customer agreed, walking off.
Eyebrows rising, I bit my tongue, resisting the urge to call out a correction.
“No, wait,” Preston shouted. “John and Paul. No, Ringo and John. I mean. Paul! Ringo and Pau!”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Thank dog they came through with the right names.
I don’t know what I would have done if they hadn’t.
A Work Dream
Despite not working for anyone since 2016, I had another work-related dream last night. This wasn’t from my last employment with IBM but was with one of the medical startups from earlier, shortly after retiring from the U.S. Air Force.
We were in a large, clean, bright room. The company’s engineering section, thirteen people, including their director, were at tables shoved together across the room. I, the lone marketing person, sat on the room’s other side, alone.
Wanting to be involved, I moved over there and asked for permission to sit in on their meeting. They were developing the product I would market, after all, and I was part of the team that collected input on the product’s design. The director and others said, “Sure,” so I sat at the edge, so I wouldn’t be intrusive.
Note that all of these people were known co-workers from real life from two different medical device startups.
Not feeling included, I left after a short period, returning to my space. But I had nothing to do; no assignments, no emails, no phone calls.
With no warning, children suddenly swarmed our workspace. I don’t know why they were there. Crossing back to the engineers, I discovered that they were gone, then spotted them leaving the building.
I followed them out. They were going up a dirt path into the mountains, past large boulders and pine trees. One said, “Look, there’s a huge bald eagle up there.” He pointed.
I nodded; I’d heard about the bird earlier and had seen it. I didn’t know what the engineers were doing. Seemed like it could’ve been some team-building exercise, so I left again.
Heading back down to our office, I realized that my boss was in Paris for a trade show. I’d not heard anything from her, which was unusual. Then I realized that she hadn’t included me in any of the show prep.
Deciding that I didn’t really have a job, I thought that I should probably look for new employment and began compiling a resignation letter in my mind as I walked.
Dream end.
Saturdaz Theme Music
Ashland, Oregon, landed on Saturday, January 17, 2026, with a quiet sigh. Freezing fog still plagues us but it’s invisible and doesn’t make us freeze. Temperatures now sit at 55 (my house), 51 (online) and 55 (Alexa) degrees F. Despite air stagnation, freezing fog, and an inversion layer, we’ll hit the mid to upper sixties today.
The snow drought bothers me. I’ve only lived here for 20 years. Dog knows memory is imperfect but this snow season is a monumental shift from my lived-in memories. We don’t usually get much accumulation in Ashland, but we typically get flurries a few times. An inch to three falls, giving us a lovely morning treat before sunshine burns it off into a memory.
There’s been no days like that which I’ve seen this year. I remind myself, this is still January and a couple winter months remain, and spring snow isn’t unusual. Just waiting, I suppose, for a reminder that it is winter.
Waiting for snow, I feel like I’m in stasis. Not the usual stasis where I don’t age and the outside world and I don’t meet. This is more of the stasis of waiting, like, ‘drop the other shoe already’ stasis.
That applies not just to weather. With Frank and Dad gone — two of the triumvirate parental units in my life — I await word on Mom. Regular accounts report her as increasingly less lucid and physically weaker. I think sis does a superb job of helping Mom, and continually thank her in my head and in conversations with her.
Part of my thanks float up whenever I do Food & Friends deliveries. I think, without sis, Mom would probably be in a situation like this, awaiting a knock on the door for a meal delivery, struggling to get to the door and get it open. Many recipients on our route live in nice homes but several lodge in apartments or motel rooms. There must be a better solution that doesn’t cost a gazillion dollars.
Part of my stasis also centers around ICE, especially with Minneapolis. Paul Krugman referred to that city as the ICE crucible, which fits; it’s an ICE experiment for how far Trump can intimidate through force and violence before someone reins him in.
Outside my home, the world spins on its own axis. Trump’s overtures about acquiring Greenland sound more frequently like Putin in Russia talking about Crimea and Ukraine. It strikes me less about geopolitical strategy and more about imperialistic land grab to acquire mineral rights.
So, I wait and wonder, will we go to war over Trump’s Greenland obsession, and how much greater will ICE’s violence against American citizens become?
The Neurons responded to my state with Queen of the Stone Age — “No One Knows”, in the morning mental music stream. The song opens,
‘We get some rules to follow. That and this, these and those, no one knows.’
Those opening lyrics work for my morning mind set. We’re given rules of living but the rules for dying are less defined. Likewise, Trump is a chaos multiplier, breaking rules and establishing his own rules, increasing tension and anxiety.
Hope your day is stress free and strong with hope and grace. Meanwhile, I will break my stasis with coffee and step into the day. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 