Although sold under Dell, I believe it is actually a Crash Laptop. It runs a Microsoft Crash 11 OS on which I run Microsoft Crash Edge, FireCrash, and Google Crash Chrome.
They’re always telling me empty and clean the cache. My cache is shiny and clean with emptiness.
I’m told to uninstall, reinstall, and update drivers and browsers.
Helpful sites suggest closing tabs or blame sites that are ‘video heavy’. You know, like Gmail, WordPress (and every blog site), Facebook, Google, Bing, YouTube, NYTimes, NextDoor, Animal Rescue Site, LoveMeow, ground.news, SFGate, Mock Paper Scissors, Daily Kos, The Hill, MS Now, APNews, WaPo, LitHub, MilitaryTimes, Seattle Times, LA Times, Daily Times, Guardian, the Mirror, and any game.
Dell says it can’t help me. My problem is beyond its warranty.
I am so happy with my Crash Dell.
On the bright side, every browser has an AI which I can use until it crashes.
My old computer using to crash once in a while. Had it for almost eight years. MS and others said, “Oh, you’re using Windows 10. Bad Juju. Change to 11 and all will be well.”
Light clouds dappled with gray and white haze the sky. Blue peeks through like a shy child. Sunshine has grown bolder, spreading over the greening valley. 56 F, it’s springy in the best way, with the upper 60s listed as the day’s highs.
My wife and I are going through tasks challenges. Each night we ask the other, “What are you going to get done tomorrow?” The answer must be besides the normal activities. Yesterday, she did the quarterly shredding of receipts. Today, she is cleaning the bottom of the freezer. We have a drawer type freezer. I don’t know what happens in there, but below that drawer gets amazingly messy.
My chores include washing her car, pulling weeds, activating her new ID card, and buying a new phone. I already activated her ID, so I’m 25% done. *smile*
Here’s the long story behind that. I’m retired military, and she’s a retired military spouse. When I retired, my retired military ID became “Indefinite”. It wasn’t really indefinite: a new card was needed when I turned 65. At that point, I was eligible for Medicare Part B. My era’s retired military medical benefits change once I’m eligible for that, as Medicare becomes my primary insurance. My Tricare 4Life becomes my secondary insurance.
My wife’s retired military ID continued expiring every four years. That used to mean a trek to an office where a new card could be issued. The computer systems being used made getting this take about an hour. The local office is in Medford and didn’t do appointments. Everything was walk-in. So we would walk-in, join the line and wait about an hour to 90 minutes.
My wife’s card was expiring in July. Imagine my surprise and delight when the systems reached out and asked if we wanted to renew it online. Why, heck, yeah! Double the surprise when her card now has an “Indefinite” expiration now, too!
Thinking about the political and war news today, and Trump and his support, I wondered, are they dreamers? I’d had a very vivid dream and wondered how their minds work. From my POV, they’re unrealistic and full of illusions and delusions.
Proof of this to me is that Trump says one thing, does another, and it doesn’t work out. He’s done this all his life. He’s had failed businesses and bankruptcies. His supporters say, yes, but he’s a billionaire. Yes, but we know that he built that off his father’s empire, inheriting substantial money, lying, cheating others, suing others to bully them to ‘go along with him’.
Trump breaks promises, laws, rules, and norms. He broke businesses; now he’s breaking our nation, and maybe the world. He’s certainly has made it much messier.
Anyway, with those thoughts stacking in my mind, The Neurons responded with a Supertramp song, “Dreamer”, in the morning mental music stream. That actually had roots in the lyrics “Far out, what a day, a year, a life it is”. Of course, I was shaking my head as I thought it. *smile*
“Dreamer” is a simple song. I found a video of it being done as part of the Night of the Proms series. I always like how the orchestras add to the song. Honestly, I find it fun to watch the musicians and choir.
Hope your day progresses with joy, happiness, and good vibrations for you.
80 degrees F and sunny, it’s just after 3 PM. We’ve just returned from community theater where we had brunch and watched a play called “Sherwood”.
I’ve not read much news today as my routines became overcome by events, making this a short post.
Basically, my feelings remain that the United States and its situation is worsening. Trump’s situation is also worsening. The Iran War and the middle east are worsening. All are basically going down.
Hearing that thinking, The Neurons fired up Jeff Beck from 1972 in the morning mental music stream. This is “Going Down”.
May your life and times go up to better places and a better future.
“We’re sorry, but your account is temporarily unavailable. We apologize for the inconvenience and suggest trying again in a few minutes. You can view the Google Workspace Status Dashboard for the current status of the service.
If the issue persists, please visit the Help Center »“
Well, hell.
The “Google Workspace Status Dashboard” shows a green checkmark for the current status. Everything is working fine.
More DIY, replacing a light. The light being replaced is the dining room ‘chandelier’. Offering six bulbs, it’s not too heavy but large and unwieldy, and was attached to a sloping ‘cathedral’ ceiling.
This is the third light being replaced in an updating move — foyer, breakfast bar, now dining room. The old dining room light just didn’t match the new style.
About a year was spent trying to find a light that met the new style. Finally found online and ordered last week, it was delivered earlier this week. As all the lights in that area are on the same circuit, the work needed to be done during the day. But other than the height, weight, and size, it was a piece of cake. The lighting industry has done a fantastic job of creating universal mounts and standard processes and connections.
Fun to get these done. Satisfying to walk around at the walls and ceilings I’ve painted, the lights which I installed, and so on, along with the appliances I fixed, like the microwave and dishwasher. These touches all make it feel like ‘my home’.
Yesterday, I noticed my wife’s Ford Focus has a burnt-out headlight. On to the next project.
My wife heaved a sigh.She’d just come into the home office with her tea and settled down on her computer to check her email.
“My NYTimes is again in my junk folder, along with Ashland News,” she announced. “Two pieces of junk mail are in my inbox.”
“It’s probably the AI that’s supposed to be so helpful,” I answer. She laughs.
Complaints about her emails have been going all week. She uses Hotmail, which is now Outlook. Or maybe it’s the other way. Whatever you call it, she’s displeased with its performance. Every day, she has to check to see where her trusted emails have gone and delete the spam that now hits her inbox. As a product, the Hotmail/Outlook app seems to be going backwards.
It’s not consistent, either. It first started with her saying last Monday, “I didn’t get my NYTimes newsletter.” Then she said, “I found it in my junk mail.” That continued for several days before it went back to her inbox. That’s when Ashland News went to junk mail.
“I don’t understand,” my wife said. “Why is it doing this?”
A search of the net suggests many ways to try to fix this problem. None of them mentioned why the problem began. I decided to use AI to see what it said. ChatGPT blamed new adaptive AI which Microsoft introduced last year.
I passed that on to my wife, who laughed. “Great. AI is screwing up my email. What a perfect metaphor.”
I laughed, too. “I don’t know how much I trust of what one AI says about the other. It’s like wondering, what does your wife think of your girlfriend?”
Ashland, Oregon — Monday, February 23, 2026. Today’s sky is mottled gray streaked and splashed with blue. All the snow is gone from view. It’s 50 F. Rain is expected, along with a high of 56.
No text messages greeted me this morning. I thought, well, we’re into a consolidating/adjusting phase. Or the text message systems aren’t working, or they’re no longer using the group chat.
Turned out that options 1 and 3 are right. The sisters are doing things more one-on-one back east. Mom has gone silent, troubling our youngest sister, who has the tightest relationship with Mom, because she lived longest with her. As another pointed out, that sister was the only one who was living with Mom when they celebrated their 18th birthday. The rest of us left before then.
Moving on from family matters, I’m watching and reading stories about the east coast blizzard. Already a big storm, I hope everyone stays safe and warm.
There are other thoughts but this needs to be short because it’s our Food & Friends delivery day. Meanwhile, The Neurons have Laura Branigan singing “Self Control” in my morning mental music stream. Branigan’s 1984 hit is a cover of a song that was an international hit, something I always need to remind myself. I like the song’s mellow beat and its overall imagery about night, impulses, and not losing it. I think Les Neurons plugged it in in association with a dream, as the song started in my head after I began remembering the dream.
Well, let’s hope peace and grace find a way to show up and make themselves felt more strongly and persistently in our daily lives. Have and do the best you can.
I was prescribed post-surgery meds and went to the drug store to pick them up.
Walking through the drugstore parking lot to buy them, I saw a small yellow car. Circling closer, I confirmed, 1964 Dodge Valiant, just like my stepfather drove. Might have been a different year but it was the same model and color.
I remembered him bringing it home although I don’t recall what he drove before that. I rarely rode in it. This was ‘his car’, something to commute to work and go off to bet. George was a gambler and went to the horse races five or six days a week, trying for a big score. He won big twice. Once was a $25,000 Daily Double payout, providing the down payment on a newly built brick ranch in Penn Hills.
Later, he won enough to buy a new 1976 Chevy Camaro. Like his Valiant, this was pale yellow, three-speed on the column and a black and white checked interior. Sis hated that car.
All of us disliked driving with George. Tending to drive about five miles an hour below the speed limit, he also liked to get into the faster lanes but not go faster. This terrified us as other drivers pulled up, slowed down and then sped past with blaring horns. Mom would often snap, “My God, get out of this lane.” George wouldn’t budge, though, sailing on without regard to others’ opinions.
The yellow Dodge in the drugstore parking lot had tiny tires and petite chrome bumpers, appearing small and fragile among the huge SUVs and a couple of ‘compact’ Toyotas and Hondas. All the modern vehicles were white, black, gray, or silver. Nowhere was another yellow car.
Seeing it still brought a smile as I walked on, reflecting, what a different world. And yet, back in the 1960s, that Valiant would have shown up as so much different than the preceding decades.
Who knows what our 2026 cars will look like compared to the cars of 2086.
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.
Michael Seidel, writer 