It’s Tuesday
Coffee smells landed. I breathed it in.
The barista greeted me from the counter, “Hey, Michael.”
“Hi, Natalie.” I slid my payment over as she wrote up my order.
“How’s it going?” she asked.
An espresso machine hissed. I shrugged. “It’s Tuesday, isn’t it.”
She nodded. Natalie loves shouting with a big, lovely grin, “It’s Tuesday, innit?”
Today, she said, “Just two days in and it’s already a burden.”
I smiled. “Too true.”
Natalie began entering the order into the register.
“You have my Co-op number?” I asked.
Her emerald eyes widened. “Five nine nine six?”
Classic rock spilled out of the speakers.
“Bingo,” I shouted.
Natalie and I laughed like maniacs.
“It’s Tuesday, innit?” I asked.
Natalie bent over in laughter. “It’s Tuesday, innit?”
Tuesday’s Theme Music: Disruptions
Ashland, Oregon — Tuesday, March 10, 2026.
Cloudy and 39F outside, dry with a high of 52 F projected.
This post is mostly about me and Mom. Pings erupted in the middle of the night. Mom had launched a text blitz, and the sisters were sharing and discussing them. I read many and saw it basically as the same old, same old on every front. One sister had helped Mom by picking things up at her house; another had responded, telling Mom that she’d created this living situation mess.
Meanwhile, searching for info and thinking late last night, I hunted for more about Heritage Grove, the assisted living facility where Mom now lives. I found this photo on their Facebook page. That’s Mom, the 90 year-old in the front left in pink in the ‘drive’ wheelchair. She’d won a Snickers bar at bingo.
Returning to sleep after the text barrage was a challenge. I finally slept but awoke when I thought I heard a man saying, “There’s a fire.” There was no man there and the house was silent. I rose, though, and walked through the house, trying to see if I smelled smoke or saw sparks or flames. Then back to bed, back to sleep, but ended up getting up late. Just eating breakfast now, 10:30, two hours late. Bah, humbug.
While I was awake in the night, I thought about yesterday’s news.
Trump urges Australia to give Iran’s Asian Cup players asylum
The story quoted Trump saying on Truth social, “Australia is making a terrible humanitarian mistake by allowing the Iran National Woman’s Soccer team to be forced back to Iran, where they will most likely be killed.”
Damn it, the only people he’s fooling are his unthinking supporters and the uninformed. This is the same person who has Homeland Security and ICE rounding people up and sending them anywhere he could get away with sending them, without one damn thought about whether they’d be killed. In the process of rounding up people and shipping them out, people were actually and being killed. And Trump always, always blamed the victims, labeling them as domestic terrorists, criminals, or thugs.
U.S. Deports Planeload of Iranians After Deal With Tehran, Officials Say
The NYTimes headline was from last October. Since then, the Iranian government killed thousands of people. And, were any of those people Trump flew back to Iran in 2025 killed when Trump bombed them in 2026?
It all has me shaking my head.
Which carries me into theme song territory. The Neurons came up with “Helen Wheels.” To which I responded, what?
The Paul McCartney & Wings song is about Paul’s Land Rover and driving around. How did it fit into my mind?
Well, it hinged on two salient aspects: “Ain’t nobody else gonna know the way she feels.” And yep, that’s Mom and life with Mom at this point. It’s a mystery. And the other part is the long-sigh “bye buh” I feel toward what’s happening with Mom, especially with my sisters.
The upbeat song feels like it’s driving me forward, pulling me off the night’s inertia.
I hope your day is going well, wherever you are, whatever you doing. May peace and grace nestle up against your efforts and help you move forward.
Cheers
Monday’s Theme Music –
Ashland, Oregon — Monday, March 9, 2026.
Cold and gloomy this morning. 44 F underneath clouds and tepid light. Showers are possible, along with a high in the fifties. Not bad as weather goes; just uninspiring.
Many things rocking the mind in this early Monday hours. A new week is underway and we don’t know what will happen next. We can guess but the overall trajectories are pointing toward bleak.
The partial government shutdown is creating travel problems as unpaid TSA agents fail to show up for work, resulting in long security lines in the United States. More importantly, a stressed and diminished security force can be a huge liability as Trump increases attacks on Iran.
A Federal court ruled that Kari Lake lacks the authority to make changes to the Voice of America and ordered people released to be returned.
Besides a rising death toll and greater regional destruction, the Trump Iran War is causing international shipping and travel chaos.
With Iran’s previous leader killed in the initial bombings, a new leader has been established: his son, a hardliner, much like his father.
Measles outbreaks continue growing in the United States, with sharp inclines in North Dakota, Utah, South Carolina, Colorado, and Ohio reported, along with a Texas Homeland Detention Center. Over 1100 cases are reported so far in 2026.
Although the weather here isn’t stormy, the mood around the world seems stormy and moving toward greater destabilization, and we must ride it out. Thinking of that inspired The Neurons to deliver “Riders on the Storm” by The Doors to the morning mental music stream.
This atmospheric song from my youth is always thought provoking but, on my way to find a video to share, I came across Playing for Change’s version, which includes Robby Krieger and John Densmore of The Doors. I enjoyed the new musical inflections added by different singers and instruments from around the world. I hope you enjoy this as much as me.
And off we go. I hope for the best for you and us, this day and every day.
Cheers
The Distance
This is a playing around piece. Over on Linda G. Hill’s blog via Laura’s WTFAIOA site, we’re all invited to write a non-edited stream of consciousness thing prompted by ‘distance’. So here we are. It was fun.
The distance doesn’t start or end, it’s just there with a space between us as we flash down the road, close and far apart as ever, going again to a place we were before hoping it’s the same place even while we seek something different. We travel the same distance when we talk about her mother and my mom and people we’ve known and what was done when. The drive ends as it began with a sense of wonder what’s going on and an expectation that somehow, this changes things. Sometimes it does but mostly, we are here again, pacing the distance, measuring it for curtains, prowling it at night.
Michael Seidel, writer 