My wife and I were driving around, dropping off books at Little Libraries. So far, we’d dropped off twenty-five books at five Little Libraries. Only one stop remained.
I turned off East Main. It was sunny but rain was falling on the windshield.
“Squirrel!” my wife shouted.
I’d seen the squirrel bolting into the street and was braking before my wife said anything.
The squirrel and I both stopped. They turned and ran back to the sidewalk but stayed there.
I edged the car forward.
The squirrel edged forward.
I increased my speed.
So did the squirrel.
“Damn, dude, what are you doing?” I asked the squirrel through the window.
I just want to see her book, a small paperback. She flips through it, pen in hand, underlining passages.
I’m horrified and fascinated. Writing in books? I know others do this and it’s permitted under certain circumstances, but it’s something against my personal coda. Unless…is it a puzzle book?
What is this book she’s defiling? If only she’d put it down so that I can see it.
She left while I was busy writing. I never saw the book.
I was running for exercise. As I did, I became aware of my body’s sounds. A novel concept emerge.
I curtailed the run and went home. Sitting down, I typed up the first twenty pages, about 2500 words, then went for water and to clean up and change clothes. While I was doing those things, I realized a potential ending and saw more scenes.
Rainy and 46, sunshine washes our house’s eastern side. Today’s high will be in the mid 50s and the low will drop to 32-35 F.
Mom and sis had a ‘good outing’ yesterday although in retrospect, my sister suspected Mom was trying to manipulate her. After the pharmacy run and Urgent care, Mom asked sis if they could drive by the house. Gina agreed but warned that they weren’t going in. Conversation ensued about how livable the house was but Gina told Mom that she didn’t think Mom could live there alone. Mom remarked that she needed some short-sleeved summer tops. Gina brushed it off but later thought that Mom was trying to get them into the house. We’re sure that if Mom had gotten in there, she would have refused to leave.
UTI was confirmed for Mom, along with blood in her urine. No word on further tests, yet.
I read good news yesterday on Diane Ravitch’s blog. A Federal judge ordered work on the Trump ballroom stopped. The judge questioned whether Trump had the authority to make the changes he was doing. Her second piece of reported good news from last week in that post, “A federal judge ruled on Tuesday that President Trump’s executive order barring the federal funding of NPR and PBS violated the First Amendment.”
Victories for We the People. We know that these decisions will be appealed to a higher court.
Over in the Supreme Court, we’re waiting to see if Trump’s executive order dicing up birthright citizenship and the 14th Amendment is judged legal. Trump attended the proceedings for a bit but left. I’m surprised he stayed awake.
Trump is giving a speech today about the Trump Iran War and about the US leaving NATO. He continues to send my WTF meter spinning with his consistent inconsistency. I suspect this is another ruse to distract from the Epstein files. The war is unpopular, though, and Trump’s approval ratings are showing it.
I also appreciated Paul Krugman’s post about the psychology of military incompetence and Pete Hegseth. I gleefully agree with Krugman: Hegseth is in over his head. Unfortunately, that doesn’t bode well for the safety of our nation or the lives of our people swearing to defend it.
I had a swarm of microdreams last night. When I sat and scribbled what I remembered, The Neurons played “I Got You” in the morning mental music stream. The Split Enz song was a 1980 hit. Reminds me a bit of the Cars. I’m not sure how it related to my thinking, though.
I hope the day goes well for you, no matter what you face or what the news brings.
It’s warming today but not like much of the continental United States. Currently 68 F, our 75 F high will give us a comfortably warm day.
My wife purchased this little art piece for the house. It’s perfect for us, as we both enjoy reading, and I also write. I enjoy the little reader statue so much, I thought I would share.
My life is otherwise auto-pilot quiet as we go through routine tasks and await news or results.
As I often do, I began reading the news today and ended up struck with some ideas which evolved into a small piece about Trump world. I split it off.
Meanwhile, the basic theme stayed with me: imaginary. Much of Trump’s existence is based on false ideas, misconstrued history, and things which he imagines. My Neurons sensed the direction and introduced “Imaginary Lover” by ARS into my morning mental music stream.
It fits, though: “Imaginary lovers never turn you down.” That’s Trump and his base all the way; they never turn him down.
Also, despite all the files being suppressed and the history that shows Trump was friends with Epstein, Trump is trying to insist that’s not true. He’s trying to tell us that we imagine his relationship with Epstein.
I chuckled when I heard the song in my head. How many of Trump’s base imagine him as their lover?
I hope your day is comfortable, safe, and leaning toward optimistic outcomes.
I was at a very crowded camp. We were outside. Lot of activity going on, including food and drink being served, and eating. I was not alone but with a group of friends and casual acquaintances, but it seemed to change throughout the dream.
Two parts retain clarity. One, I was drinking red wine in goblets. Almost everyone was, so it was challenging to track what drink belonged to who. Two, a group of Black friends were talking about movies and books. I’d not heard of either one.
One showed me a book. It was thin children’s book. I think it was called Riverrun City. When he showed me the cover, it showed brown cartoon bears moving across it. I thought I’d heard of the book but admitted I’d not read it. I made promises to try to do so as they encouraged me.
I went back to get my glass of wine but couldn’t find it. I recalled that I’d just filled it and set it aside – out of the way – so nobody else would pick it up by accident. It wasn’t where I remembered I put it and thought, I either mis-remembered, or someone moved it.
I spotted another glass at a different location. It could be mine, but I wasn’t sure. I walked around looking but also understood, how the hell am I supposed to know what glass is ‘mine’? They all looked alike.
I went back to that one which ‘might’ be mine. There seemed to be brown fibers floating in it. I tasted it; it tasted like tobacco juice.
My wife came in, sighed, and gave a book report. She reads a lot — over one hundred novels in 2025. I read but not nearly as much, in large part because I write fiction.
I often hear two or three book reports a day from her. Today’s report launched from a familiar sore spot for her.
“Well, I’m enjoying this book, but. I have nine pages left. I know that they’re not going to wrap this story up in nine pages. Not if it’s going to make sense. That means there’s a sequel, a book two, maybe more. Why do they do this? It should be illegal. It should be a crime. If you write a book, it should have an ending, not another thousand book to read.”
Report finished, she stalked back out. A minute later, I heard her singing and cleaning the kitchen. She gets angry about it but at this point, she’s resigned to the situation. I don’t think it’ll be much longer before she begins confirming that the book has an ending before she begins reading it.
Michael Seidel, writer 