It wasn’t one of the places she lived in real life, but I knew it was her house.
No one else was there. The place was messy in many places, totally opposite of anyplace I’ve lived or visited where Mom was in command.
Getting there, I found a narrow bed. White sheets, pink blanket, pillow, but unmade. I decided to sleep a bit.
A long-haired gray and white cat joined me. I talked to it in the way we do with animals, telling the cat, a male, I knew, was very handsome. The cat then *ahem* indicated that it wanted to have sex with me.
Full-blown horror lashed me. I rejected that completely, telling the cat that was sick and disgusting. I added, “You can sleep with me but as a cat, not a sexual partner.”
Unable to sleep after that, I got up and walked around, taking notice of the mess. Part of it on one end was a pond with rocks. Water fed into it but the water was scummy, full of plants and crap. Deciding I would clean it, I went off, found rags, buckets, tools.
My sisters arrived, chattering and laughing, before I could clean it but after a sort pause, I did. In dream fashion, it was miraculously fast and easy.
I showed the others. Everyone was impressed by what I’d done. Two turtles emerged from the pond. My youngest sister exclaimed, “I knew there were turtles in there.”
One turtle puked. Examining that, my sister announced with happiness, “It’s pregnant. I am so happy.”
Mom arrived shortly afterward, the middle-aged person I knew for most of my life. Her hair was blond and she was wearing black slacks with this black and white polka-dotted frilly shirt that she often liked to wear. Smiling and happy, she came in, saying hello to all of us.
Bandon, southern Oregon coast. It’s overcast here, chilly, a mere 60 F. A sea breeze takes the feel of that down a few degrees. Whatever the temperature, I love the fresh sea smell here.
We’re heading back home to see if Papi missed us. A wary orange boi, he’s always reserved in his opinions.
Sickening and repugnant how Trump dismisses We the People’s concerns. While the scope of deprivation and problems are still being vetted on the USS Abraham Lincoln, the fact that they’ve been awake on an extended deployment is not contested.
Your Trump Quote of the Day:
Let’s imagine Trump out there, serving for months at sea. Imagine how he’d be whining about his sacrifice. Imagine him having to go without McDonald’s, without golfing. Oh, the humanity. How we would be hearing about his suffering.
Likewise, Trump gives a rat’s ass about the rising gas prices. Oh, it was so important to Trump and the MAGAts back when Trump wasn’t in charge. Oh, how Trump eviscerated President Biden about the price of things.
“For you to pay a TINY little bit more for your gasoline, you’re doing it so that a very evil country cannot have a nuclear weapon. Remember that when you’re paying $4. I’ll never apologize.”
Trump is also threatening to ‘bomb the shit out of Oman‘. I file this under Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! Things are going badly for Trumpy and the MAGAts. They haven’t had a hit in months and there’s talk that the band is breaking up.
All of this is just more ordinary Trump posturing. Ordinary in the sense, Trump is always doing these things. But they’re deadly, with serious, long-lasting consequences.
Trump is never one to understand that, though. He’s absolutely shameless. For example, look how he used to talk about Epstein as a friend. Then Trump declared that he would release the Epstein files. Now Trump desperately wants us to forget the Epstein files.
Today’s music is “Ordinary World” by Duran Duran. The Neurons have it playing in my morning mental music stream in light of Trump’s recurring ‘ordinary’ reactions — ordinary in the sense that this is how he always does things. To the rest of us, Trump’s behavior is anything but ordinary. No, words like sick, mindless, and depraved is what usually comes to mind — at least to my mind.
Sample Lyrics
Papers in the roadside tell of suffering and greed Here today, forgot tomorrow Ooh, here besides the news of holy war and holy need Ours is just a little sorrowed talk
Have a great day of peace, grace, good health, and good fortune.
Bandon, southern Oregon coast. Saturday, August 15, 2026.
We’re in Bandon to do the Circles in the Sand walk. Back then, it was about 60 F. Clouds played keep away with the sunshine. I dropped my wife off at the Face Rock Wayside at 8:15. Then I drove back to the hotel and walked back to do the walk with her. We finished the walk at 10 AM, then I walked back, got the car, and picked up my wife. So it was a refreshed, relaxing morning by the sea.
Back in the room, I spoke with the house sitter. She and Papi are old familiars so he’s comfortable with her presence.
After that cool morning, it’s a gorgeous afternoon — 61 but feels 71. Sunshine washes over the coast.
Now:
The labyrinth — well, a third of it, from the parking lot overlook:
A few news headlines attracted my afternoon attention.
These aren’t news headlines so much as they’re affirmations of who Trump is, and how his poor decision-making and aggressive power moves are backfiring on him.
Trump and his administration refuses to learn or change course, so we keep going in circles. Trump attempts the same policies; they’re taken to court and are often denied or overturned. Trump then tries another tack to see if it’ll stick.
Over and over again — round and round in circles.
Meanwhile, the United States economy is circling the drain, along with many political norms.
Not surprising that between Trump circling the drain and walking the circles in the sand, The Neurons put a song about circles in the morning mental music stream. “Circle in the Sand” was released by Belinda Carlisle in 1977 and was a global hit.
I signed my name at the beach. The tides will erase it by tomorrow, but I have the photograph and memory — as long as they don’t fade…
Ashland, southern Oregon. Wednesday, August 12, 2026.
Cooler day today. 86 F is projected as the high while it’s 71 F outside my house right now. Wind is pretty calm and the sky is pretty blue. Pretty sunny today, too. And clear, although Oregon has many fires still burning east, north, and west of us, and California to our south, has some major fires.
Papi and I went outside a short while ago. Vee — my name for Papi’s frequent visitor — was out there. I petted her, gave her treats, and ensured she had water. Papi tolerates her. Vee is a young shorthaired gray tabby with white legs, chest, belly, and paws. Very sweet, friendly, and social, with a silent meow. I think she lives locally, and her people put her out when they go to work, as she arrives at specific times again and again.
A breeze kicked up while we were out there. Honestly felt and sounded like autumn.
The Year of Trump Follies continue. Trump apologists are digging in hard to avoid facing the truth.
“Everybody but Trump” is the GOP chorus when things go downhill, as so much of it is. “It’s all me,” Trump declares when it’s going well, especially when he had absolutely nothing to do with it.
It’s like, they’re resist facts and learning. Trump’s latest Executive Order about vaccines is another facet of their foolishness and ignorance. They’re changing something which has worked for decades to bow to misinformation about autism and vaccines. But hey, that misinformation is popular with the MAGA crowd.
This is double weird given what happened with military recruits and mandatory vaccines in June, just two months ago. The mandatory flu vaccine was dropped; it was now voluntary. Lo, a flu outbreak immediately rose, affecting training and readiness. The mandatory flu vaccine was reinstated forthwith.
Triply weird, when MMR vaccinations are down and measles outbreaks are increasing. Not Trump’s fault, the fools shout. No, it’s not Trump, it’s open Borders! It’s Fauci!
With all the things Trump — and his GOP — have done, he’s now out there trying to scare up more fools to support him. That’s why I have “Find Another Fool” in my morning mental music stream. This was a top twenty hit for Quarterflash in 1981.
Sample Lyrics
You pulled this once… you pulled it twice It’s time you listened to my advice… oh, baby
I’d never take advantage of our love I can’t imagine what you’re thinkin’ of You’re over due… you think this storm is through. Well, baby, I’ve got news for you
When the season of Trump finally ends, it’ll be like recovering from a major storm. So much will need to be fixed, rebuilt, and changed. I’m looking toward the MAGAts to be part of it. They seem beyond being reached at this point. Maybe, someday, that will change.
Not holding my breath.
I hope this day finds you in good health, good times, and good company.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Monday, August 10, 2026.
Our August cooling trend continues. Today we’ll see low 90s with blue skies and sunshine in our valley. Last night saw the temperature fall to 58 F in our area. I had to go around closing windows to keep the house from getting too cold. Poor us, right?
Mom and Gina, my sister and Mom’s Power of Attorney, continue their cold war. I don’t think peace will come again, a change from how I was viewing it. Something about the conflict has triggered both, hardening their attitudes. Each instantly react angrily. Invectives and accusations fly.
Got Food & Friends deliveries today, along with a medical appointment this afternoon, so it’s another brief post. Somehow, most of my reading ended up being about Trump and the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool. The story reminds us that Trump first claimed how resilient the fix he installed was.
“In May, for example, Trump said the lining was “so strong, so powerful” that it couldn’t be cut with a knife. He even drove his motorcade across it while it was being installed to inspect the work.”
Then, somehow, a vandal or group with knives managed to cut and tear that ‘so strong, so powerful’ lining.
“We have photographs, or tapes,” he said, making a circular gesture with his hands. After a pause, he pointed to the cameras recording him and added: “Like moving cameras, right?”
Except, oh no, after Jeanine Pirro announced that they were dropping prosecution of the one vandal they’d arrested, Trump now claims there is no evidence:
“There was substantial other damage to the Reflecting Pool, also but, unfortunately, there is no video or proof, other than the damage, itself,” Trump wrote on Truth Social on Sunday.
Anyone following the story knows the truth and has seen the evidence: the one who screwed up the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool is Trump. And the one lying about it is also Trump.
The thing is, too, as it’s been often noted, the cover up is frequently worse than the crime. If Trump had just let it go, admitted he made a mistake, or anything like that, it would have already disappeared as a story. Instead, Trump dug in, refuse the facts and the truth, and made it worse.
But that’s Trump: lying, then lying about his lies, digging deeper and deeper holes. Did it with the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool; tariffs and the economy; the Epstein files; and the war he began with Iran.
A little over a year ago, I used the song “Basket Case” by Green Day as the day’s theme music. Trump has just attacked Iran for the first time. At that time, I wondered if June 21, 2025 and the attacks on that day would go down as the day that World War III quietly began?
Trump declared that mission enormously successful.
Three days later, he walked back those claims. February of this year, he attacked Iran again. And the war has been going ever since, off and on, widening and creating death and destruction. Time and again, Trump gives different reasons for that war, not calling it a war to avoid being held in check, and has claimed different levels of results and success.
And that is why “Basket Case” is playing in the morning mental music stream today — again.
Sample Lyrics:
Do you have the time to listen to me whine? About nothing and everything, all at once I am one of those melodramatic fools Neurotic to the bone, no doubt about it
Sometimes I give myself the creeps Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me It all keeps adding up I think I’m cracking up Am I just paranoid or am I just stoned?
Papi has settled in for the day. He’s ready for a day of relaxation. Hope you are, too.
I was in the living room, doing light exercises and watching the television.
It was 10 PM. The temperature had hit 101.5 F at our house. Now it had dropped to 80. I’d gone around, opening the windows to cool us off.
Strong skunk smells began coming in with the cool air. Cursing, I went around closing the windows I’d opened about ten minutes before.
As I was doing this, my wife came in. “I heard something knock over a garbage can.”
“Our garbage can?” I asked. It’s behind a fence so –
“I don’t know where it was. I think it was on the street.”
Confirming that Papi was safely inside, my wife went to the front door. Picking up a flashlight, I joined her, turning on the porch light and unlocking the door. She did a little start. As I went out, she took hold of my shirt and followed.
I shined the flashlight along the dark street. Sirens were rising. Emergency vehicles raced along the main road about a hundred feet below us.
“See any trashcans?” my wife asked.
“Just that one.” I shone the light on a bulky shape across the street.
“That trashcan has eyes,” my wife said.
“It does,” I agree.
At that point, we knew it was a bear. Black bears are common in our area. Down on all fours, the bear looked about four feet tall at its shoulders. It casually turned and took a few steps toward us.
My wife took a few steps backwards.
I laughed.
The bear disappeared behind some bushes lining the street. “Let’s go in the house,” I suggested.
“Okay.” As we went in, my wife said, “I was ready to give you a quick push and then shuffle backwards into the house.”
I chuckled. “I wasn’t worried. I know I’m faster than you.”
She laughed.
I looked back with the flashlight. The beer loped up the street.
It’s 70 F under bright sunshine this morning. A high of 90 is expected. Papi has already out to sleep through the heat in a comfortable space.
The Mitch McConnell pool remains open. Is he or isn’t he alive? He hasn’t been seen in public since June 14. People kept insisting they spoke with him but never offer proof. I suspect some mad scientist is probably trying to reanimate McConnell, or tech bros developing an AI version of him.
I can see the new Roberts Court ruling: “AI are people, too.”
Reminds me of an old nursery rhyme. “Fe fi fo fum, I smell the blood of a Republican. Be he live or be he dead, there’s not enough there to fit between my bread.”
My wife and I were talking last night about how things were before. It was mostly about our lives and bodies and their changes, but the conservation expanded in multiple directions.
One question that arose was, did we ever live in a golden age? Neither of us thought so. We used to work hard, budget money carefully, save. We were not extravagant people. Still aren’t. That kept us secure and safe. But we were young and healthy, with that glow that anything was possible.
We believed our society would keep moving forward and work closer together to solve what seems like insurmountable problems. Now, with Trump in the White House and most Republicans with their heads planted where the sun doesn’t shine, we have no faith that all the progress we thought had been made would continue.
She mimed gagging, choking, and puking in response. Her follow up was, “Only if you’re wealthy. But every era is a golden age if you have enough money.”
No matter how well some might be doing now, as Trump attacks programs that aid the impoverished and needy, I can’t ever think of this period as a golden age or golden years. Since Trump began his second term, overall prices have not fallen. Real wages have declined and economic growth has not accelerated. Manufacturing employment continues to decline and the national debt keeps growing.
To distract us from noticing this, Trump attacks others. Right now, Trump is attacking Iran — again — after declaring that conflict over.
I don’t see the evidence for a golden age. My wife and I are in a golden age in the sense that we don’t organize our lives around our employment schedules. That sort of freedom is golden, if you’re financially secure. That’s a big caveat in the US. As for the rest of life, this is not a golden age.
Which takes me to the music. Today we have David Bowie singing “Golden Years” in the morning mental music stream. Came out in 1975.
For me the lines which matter from this song are,
“Run for the shadows, run for the shadows
“Run for the shadows in these golden years.”
Yes, run for the shadows.
Golden years are supposed to be a time of prosperity, happiness, and satisfaction. We seem to have some distance to that goal right now.
My hope for you is you have a golden day — one of prosperity, happiness, and satisfaction.
Thursday, July 9, 2026 — Ashland, southern Oregon.
Gonna be another 90+ degree summer day in our Valley. Now is the time to be outdoor doing things, as it’s 70, with a light cooling breeze. Heeding that advice, that’s exactly what our Papi did. No moss grows under his paws.
Familial news front remains quiet. Mom’s house is going through the appraisal process today, needed for the buyer’s loan. Fingers crossed, you know? Fingers crossed is my favorite way to achieve good results, knock on wood.
We’re not at war again but Trump says the cease fire is over and we’re firing missiles at us, and they’re doing the same. The peace president declared, “This is really not a war so much. It’s a de-nuking of Iran, de-nuclearization of Iran.” To people who were in wars before, it seems like a war, what with all the bombings, explosions, and death. Classic Trump Double Standards.
It all feels like more of Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! Other than MAGA, Trump’s popularity is dropping. Bombing Iran is unpopular, and will likely get worse as Trump shifts why we’re doing it and how long it will last, exposing him again to being unreliable. The war will drive prices up again, and cause drops in the stock market, affecting the 401Ks that Trump was just crowing about a few weeks ago.
But the ‘conflict’ gives him a private boast to his ego because he can unleash the military and say to himself, “Look how powerful I am.”
Meanwhile, prices will rise. Affordability will get worse.
Trump will get richer.
Bonnie Tyler passed away.I always enjoyed her voice and style. So, today’s song is a reflection of her impact.
“Holding Out for A Hero” is right as a song to remember Bonnie Tyler as well as a song for the moment. Trump and his cast of spineless GOP minions are not heroes. Many have abandoned their duties as part of the checks and balances system in a crass display to remain in power, to be relevant, and to enrich themselves.
Meanwhile, on the Democrat’s side of the aisle, we have the Graham Platner fiasco. We thought he was someone with principles and moral courage. Subsequent revelations showed we were wrong.
Now we’re again looking for heroes. People to stand up against Trump and help rebuild our democracy. Someone who will drain the swamp and restore our values.
I hope your day is beneficial to you in every matter that’s important.
Michael Seidel, writer 