Ethology
Ring
Ping
ChimeHeads turn
Conversations slowFeeding
CommencesDigestion
FinishesAgendas
ResumeWhere were we?
Lights, Action! DIY
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.
The Morning eMail
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?”
Monday’s Theme Music
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.
Lyrics
I, I live among the creatures of the night
I haven’t got the will to try and fight
Against a new tomorrow, so I guess I’ll just believe it
That tomorrow never comes
A safe night (You take my self, you take my self control)
I’m living in the forest of a dream (You take my self, you take my self control)
I know the night is not as it would seem (You take my self, you take my self control)
I must believe in something, so I’ll make myself believe it (You take my self, you take my self control)
This night will never go
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.
Cheers
A Little Yellow Car
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.
Little Things
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.
A Health Update
Subtle but unexpected health changes recently launched me on a path of exploration and understanding.
First was my teeth.
I began experiencing mild gum pain despite regular brushing, flossing, and using my water pick. That pain disappeared on its own. Concurrently, I discovered my teeth alignment better than before because my small overbite had vanished.
More embarrassingly, I developed nocturnal incontinence, just enough seepage for me to wonder.
Changed gums, teeth alignment, and incontinence seemed unrelated. But the body is a system. Restricting my sodium intake, exercising more, following a better diet ended with weight loss and less bloating. I began bloating years ago without fully understanding what was going on.
Adding up all these changes, I wondered if these disparate changes were related to my reduced bloating. I went on net searches, refining and gathering information, confirming, yes, these were all stacked and related events.
As I read, I gathered that several practices influenced my incontinence. I take Flomax for a benign enlarged prostate, which helps me urinate. I also raise my legs and massage them to combat edema and lymphedema – fluid retention – each evening. I also hydrate just before going to bed.
Research showed that if I changed the order of doing things, I could probably end the incontinence.
- Elevate my legs before taking the Flomax.
- Take the Flomax earlier in the evening.
- Drink less water late at night.
I made those changes, and yes, the incontinence was gone.
The body is a fascinating, dynamic system. Thanks to the net, it’s getting easier to understand.
And manage.
Just the Facts, Please
A headline drew me in this morning.
Francis Buchholz, Scorpions’ hurricane-rocking ex-bassist, dead at 71
I enjoy the Scorpions and their music. They had many hits, and a good friend of mine was a power fan of the group.
Poor guy, I thought, thanks for the music, and gee — just a little older than me.
I opened the story and read, stopping at this paragraph:
Scorpions had already been going for years with another bassist when Buchholz, who was born Jan. 19, 1950 in Hanover, West Germany, joined.
Hold on. If Buchholz was born in 1950, how in the world of math is he 71?
I searched his name for the answer. One article said he was 75. Other places said he was 71, born in 1954. At least that math works.
I wondered, what are the facts? It reinforced my worry, erroneous information spreads too easily on the net.
No wonder we seem confused and polarized. In the digital age, you can’t always be sure of the facts — even when you look for it.
Thirstdaz Theme Music
Today is Thursday, January 22, 2026.
Ashland continues a weather pattern of cold nights, warming days, blue skies, and air stagnation. Blue skies came, went, and returned yesterday. Like yesterday, today’s highs will register over 50.
I’m happy to report that Alexa, online, and my system closely agree that it’s cold this morning. Alexa calls it 31, my system tells me it’s 27 F, and Ashland’s temperature online says, 32. Rejoice!
It looks warmer out there, an illusion of golden sunshine on majestic but naked oak branches lit against sky blue. Stepping out, as Papi will tell you, is a different matter. He did his business and hurried back in to work through breakfast.
Mom and sis each report adjustments have been made, and acceptance of their new relationship is growing. Each still complains about the other but in gentler terms, with more compliments for one another sprinkled in. Hope remains alive that Mom living at sis’s house will eventually thrive.
Sis says they’re preparing for a big winter storm in Pittsburgh, up to twelves inches of snow. She stocked up on baked goods to prepare.
It’s always interesting how things change and stay the same. Weather is one, Mom and sis are another. Trump is a third.
Trump wants Greenland ‘for the United States’, threatening eight allies with tariffs. Global markets responded with fast drops based on worries about a trade war. Whether that impacted Trump’s thinking, he withdrew the tariff threats on those eight nations.
We wait to see what Trump will do next. He promised to cap credit card interest rates by January 20. Didn’t happen.
“We’re going to issue a dividend to our middle-income people and lower-income people, about $2,000,” Trump told the press Nov. 10. “And we’re going to use the remaining tariffs to lower our debt.”
Nobody has received that check. Trump didn’t remember making that promise when people asked about it.
And, let’s not overlook the Trump phone. Promised in 2025, there were rumors of about 600,000 pre-orders. None have been reported as received or delivered.
I’ve heard whispers from some that maybe a tipping point was reached with Trump. I’m not sure that’s so and won’t let myself get optimistic about it.
Thinking about what they’d seen, The Neurons brought up Green Day and their song, “Waiting”.
Now, time to chug coffee and head out to the repair shop to deliver my wife’s vehicle and await their verdict. The car sometimes completely dies without warning. It’s over 20 years old but in good shape, so we have our fingers crossed that something quick and easy will be found. Taking a book with me, in case it’s a long wait.
I hope positive energy fills your day and good things come your way, today and every day. Cheers
Wenzdaz Wandering Thoughts
A new problem arrived at our house.
My wife’s car died on her the other day. Absolutely no power — lights, radio, engine, etc., a very disconcerting event. Fortunately, she was in a parking lot and easily steered to a safe place. It started right back up, but you can imagine the alarm a car dying without warning can give you.
A 2003 Ford Focus purchased new, 110,000 miles are on the car’s odometer. It’s been garaged for all of its life and pretty well maintained. She only uses it for local buzzing around, usually driving just three miles in any direction. Once a month, she might go further, up to twelve miles away.
Now, though, she’s working on a project that requires her to meet with others, pick up things, all that. The big event is Feb. 1. She’s been working on it for months, pulling it together.
I’ve been trying to convince her to trade in the Focus for new wheels for years. In fact, when we bought our CX-5 over ten years ago, it was supposed to be her car to drive. We would then purchase a second car for me and trade in the Focus. She reneged on the agreement and kept her car.
I told her to take the Mazda but, she doesn’t want to drive it, having driven it once since we bought it.
So, it’s a drop everything, change my schedule day to get this resolved. I drove her to her appointments and local garage will check it tomorrow. I have my suspicions about the cause, but we’ll wait for the experts.
Michael Seidel, writer 