Fridaz Theme Music

Welcome, welcome, welcome. It’s First Frida, January 2, 2026, a day traditionally celebrated with food, drinks, and jokes. Here is my joke. Fittingly for this era, it’s AI provided.

I once tried to do nothing.
It took all day.

Currently 49 to 54 F in Ashland with an expected high of 54 to 57. Strong winds are singing their warnings. Grey clouds and sunshine square dance.

I sent my stepmother a condolence card today. I was just expressing my appreciation for what she and her family did for Dad, providing him the love and comfort of a family. Mom, Dad’s first wife, and his biological children from that union, could never work that out. Too many variables to reduce it to understanding. Dad was part of that. As he once told Mom, he didn’t mature until he was 35.

My mood is all over the place today. As I shift away from Dad’s death and the reflections they provoked, I’m moving into the new year and trying to re-engage politics. I don’t want to be a downer. I want to be honest. My mood is up, as is my spirit, but then I read about the latest news, and the sighs creep out of me.

While a new year has begun, Trump hasn’t changed for the better. He’s projecting again, calling Democrats ‘the worst’. I suspect criticism of him squeezed past his handlers. He knows he’s not being held in high regard, and actions he lauds as being great are being disparaged. So it goes in 2026 as it was in 2025, 2024, 2023… That leopard doesn’t change his spots.

After reading political news, my cheeky Neurons introduced “Radio Ga Ga” into the morning mental music stream. That made me laugh. The 1984 Queen song is a nostalgia look back at the radio era as television and music videos rose in popularity. The Neurons jumped on the a chorus after reading about Trump.

[Chorus]
All we hear is radio ga ga
Radio goo goo
Radio ga ga
All we hear is radio ga ga
Radio blah, blah

Radio goo goo, radio ga ga, radio blah blah. That’s too often Trump.

The song itself, though, uplifts me. This particular version, with Freddy Mercury out in front, feels powerful.

With 2026 underway, I hope to see meaningful and positive changes for you and me. May grace and peace come together with us. Cheers

Witness

Through the year

We did stumble,

Doing weary chores

With a soft-voiced grumble.

Peeking through doors,

Working through days,

Of laughing, sighing,

And weary, changing ways.

Sometimes we shouted,

And sometimes shed tears,

Wondering how it would end,

This long, most miserable of years.

Now we sit

On another cusp,

Wondering,

What the next months

Will deliver to us?

We make promises and vow

To create changes that stay,

But will we be happier

Twelve months from this day?

The House Dream

Been a while since I’ve dreamed about houses. Such dreams are always in conjunction with family.

I was visiting my wife’s family house. It no longer exists, as it was torn down after her mother was moved to assisted living. That was a sad thing in itself, to have a dwelling lived in for almost fifty years broken down and hauled away. She died about seven years ago.

In this dream, I knew it was her parents’ house even though it wasn’t like the real place. My wife and I were both young and visiting. Two women I didn’t know were there but nobody else.

The four of us were bored. I opened a drawer and found a deck of cards. We decided to play ‘King on the corner’. After we drew our cards, the person with the highest card would go first. I announced I had the king of diamonds. Someone else announced they had the king of spades. I then saw that I also had the ace of diamonds. Everyone agreed I should go first.

I took my turn, drawing a card. Play progressed and I realized that I’d screwed up because I hadn’t put down my cards. Someone put a king on the corner. I saw it was a king of diamonds. That couldn’t be because I had that card, which I pointed out. We realized that we had more than one deck. Upset with that, we abandoned the card playing.

Then we were just talking when the phone rang. I thought it could be my father-in-law calling. He’d passed away back in December of 1991.

It was him on the phone. He said, “Tell them I’m on my way home.”

I asked, “When do you think you’ll be here?”

But the line was dead. I told the others what had happened. They responded, “We need to clean up.” They jumped up and left the room to go down the hall.

I followed them. The rest of the house wasn’t anything like her parents’ house and I said so. Then we came to a part of it where there were two businesses on the right-hand side. That blew me away. Businesses in the house? That made no sense.

I gathered the businesses were an ice cream stand and a coffee and sandwich shop. Young women were at serving windows in both. I didn’t know either. My wife spoke to one. She revealed we’d gone to school with them. I didn’t remember her, but she claimed she remembered me.

The others had gone off. I walked around on my own and discovered my mother-in-law’s room. I went in and knew it but also knew it was different. My wife called out, “Mom’s here.” I eagerly went to greet her.

Instead of my MIL, another man entered, arms out with a large smile. “Good to see you again,” he said.

Although I didn’t recognize him, I said, “Good to see you, too.”

We hugged. Then he said, “I notice you looking at my feet.”

I’d not noticed his feet, but he continued, “They’re new, but they screwed them up.”

I looked at his feet. They were sticking straight out to the sides. I also noticed puddles of pee on the floor and realized that he’d peed himself.

He said, “Can you tell me where the bathroom is? I need to take a dump.”

I pointed him in the right direction and rushed off.

I joined up with my wife, her older sister, and my neice. We continued to the house’s front. It was wildly different than before. The front porch, driveway, big oak tree, and flowering rhododendrons were gone. It was now more like a Monet painting. Amazed and staring, I said, “This is completely different. When did this happen?”

Oh, a long time ago, the others replied, dismissing it. They went out of the house to a little shop, flooring me that a little shop was there and that they were aware of it. This place was where the long driveway used to be, and sold purses and jewelry. My wife and the others knew the owner and went in and talked to them and looked around.

I went off to explore the new place. As I did, a long, gleaming gold car with bright chrome wheels arrive. I thought, that can’t be my father-in-law.

It wasn’t. It was some stranger who parked and walked away in a different direction. Beyond the parked car was a raging muddy river. I picked my way across it to see what was on the other side. A scarlet rooster began following me around. As I went to go back, the rooster jumped on my lower leg and hung on.

It was starting to get dark. I kicked the rooster off my leg and heard it land in the water but couldn’t see it because it had become so dark. Now I worried that I wouldn’t be able to cross because of the light. Hearing splashing, I realized the rooster had made it safely back, which relieved me.

The darkness suddenly lifted enough that I could see where I was. I hurried back across the river.

End.

Fridaz Theme Music

Hey, good morning, sunshine. It’s Frida, December 26, 2025. After a rainy night, the clouds shuffled aside and sunlight broke in on us. We were warned that snow might fall in the night. Peerings out the window provide no visuals that snow was encountered in our area.

My system says it’s 41 F outside. The net claims 38 F with light rain. Alexa claims 41 and cloudy. SOU marks it as 44 F. We’re basically in agreement, then, in a six degree range. That range makes sense. SOU is lower down and about a mile away. The location is subject to being foggy. If fog doesn’t show, it’s subject to being sunny. Projected highs aren’t far off with the given range as 43 to 46 degrees F.

We’re settling into the post-Christmas groove. I find this an odd period. People are coming down from the holiday high of eating, giving, and receiving. Schools are closed, as are some businesses. Others are forced to trudge back to work. It’s a Frida but lacks a Frida vibe.

Next week brings the New Year. My cynical side asks, “How many other nations can the Trump Regime attack before the year’s end? How many more people can this administration kill and displace?” Being a peace president isn’t easy, you know. That’s why Trump wanted a department of war, so he could push for peace. He’s going to threaten, bomb, bully, or kill everyone into peaceful. It’s ‘do as I say or else’ diplomacy. Which is also is political tactic, and his negotiating stance. It’s all ‘do as I say or else’.

The ‘or else’ side of things is diminishing. Everyone has the measure of Trump’s blustering. He can’t do much economically. That’s largely because he severely damaged the United States’ economic power by breaking trade agreements, and levying tariffs. That leaves Trump with the greater danger for the rest of us, to employing the power of the U.S. military, which is still potent.

With that in mind, thinking over 2025 and looking ahead to 2026, The Neurons came up with the Grateful Dead song, “Casey Jones”. “Trouble ahead, trouble behind.” Yep, Trump is driving us toward a no-win, no-way-out situation of isolation.

By the way, what does everyone think about Trump bombing another place at about the same time that the DOJ found a million more Epstein Files? That seems like suspicious serendipity to me. I can imagine a conversation inside the place formerly known as the White House:

Trump’s minions: “We’re going to announce that Justice just discovered one million more Epstein files.”

Trump: “Whatever.”

TM: “We’re also announcing we’re releasing them.”

Trump: “Bomb someone. Quick.”

As mentioned in yesterday’s post, Christmas brunch was at at friend’s house, and a Czech student was present. She’s from a small village. Her school there covered elementary school through ninth grade and had only 117 students. After hearing her version of Christmas celebrations in her village, with baby Jesus delivering presents, I asked the net for more info. I learned that Martin Luther had encouraged this idea to help move people toward Christianity.

I also ended up looking up Sinterklaas. I’d mentioned that figure as another interesting Christmas variation. They all claimed to have never heard of Sinterklaas, so I had to look him up just to reassure myself that I wasn’t nuts.

I hope your holidays were and are pleasant for you. Hope, too, that whatever troubles 2025 brought to you drop away and that 2026 is less problematic and troublesome for all of us. Fingers crossed. At least we’re going to be seeing longer periods of daylight up north now, having crossed the solstice boundary.

Got my coffee. Here we go again. Cheers

Twozdaz Theme Music

A tight light gray sheet is pulled down over Ashland. Woven of clouds, rain, and fog, it reduces sunlight to graylight. As light rain sings, the temperature hangs at 38 F with a high of 38 F looming. This is Twozda, December 23, 2025.

Thinking of Mom, life, and politics led me into paths of cogitation about how we shape others’ impressions of us. Sometimes our impressions of others actually undermine our ability to see who they are and what they mean. History with them, and disappointments with them, seem to frequently color our greater impressions and reactions. Emotions overtake thinking. Anger sets in and calcifies. Then we limit engagements, refuse to talk to them. Why should we? They’ve proven who they are to us.

Yet, we know that one of the greatest constants of existence is change. Many of us try and succeed to change ourselves for the better. Sometimes we awaken from whatever cocoon held us and realize, “Oh, shit. What did I do?” Then we hunt avenues to fix whatever mess we created.

Not all, I guess. I’ve known some terminally ignorant people who refused to ever admit they were ever wrong, let alone try to fix things. But others saw them for that toxicity and drifted from them until they stood alone, stewing in their rage about how they knew they’re right and everyone else is wrong. I think Trump is deeply into that circle. The thing is, his wealth and power keep extending his life. He’s surrounded himself with enablers. To admit that he’s wrong is to admit they’re wrong. And they’re shying off from that.

Like Trump, like Mom, like me and others I know, underlying our behavior are health challenges. I’m dealing with mine and seem to be rapidly improving. But I know others who are skating downhill, picking up speed, piling up the problems. It’s harder to see those things in others, whether their causes are emotional, neurological, matters with digestion, depression, or the simpler and more insidious problem…getting old. Even when you know ‘what’s wrong with them’ in clear and lucid terms, it’s hard to grasp the many ways that what’s wrong with them interferes with their being, causes them suffering, and makes them seem to lash out. Some people magnify what they’re going through, hungry for attention. Others hide it as deeply as possible, shunning attention and sympathy, disgusted that they might be *gasp* pitied. We’re complicated beings in a complicated world.

I have Fall Out Boy in the morning mental music stream. “Save Rock and Roll” featuring Elton John is the breakfast soundtrack. It hinges on the pins of my reflections and a lyric that goes, “You are what you love, not who loves you.” Not sure how it fits into my morning morass of mingling musings.

Rock and roll never forgets even if peace and grace seem to. Got my coffee. Here we go, into the gray future once again. Cheers

Satyrdaz Theme Music

8 AM. Satyrda, December 13, 2025. I put the green bag out for collection. Frowned in dismal frustration. The fog was back.

Fog has been sitting on us like a cat who decides you’re their favorite napping spot. Except a cat is usually pretty warm. This fog is not. It’s been days of cold, lingering fog. Entire week except yesterday afternoon.

Yesterday afternoon brought us a break. The fog pulled back. Sunshine spilled in. Temperatures jumped into the forties. Yes, I said to myself. The fog is gone. I figured it was probably a premature celebration but hoped I was wrong. I wasn’t wrong. It was premature, with the fog back with the same intensity this morning that it displayed on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday…

Back in the house, I asked Alexa about the weather. “Forty degrees and clear,” she said.

I checked my system. 29 degrees F. Looked out the window.

“Why do you ask Alexa every morning when you always think she’s wrong?” my wife asked.

It was a reasonable question. I’d asked myself the same. “I want to know how wrong it is,” I said.

Going online, I checked Southern Oregon University’s weather station down on The Farm. It also said 29 F. But online national systems were telling me, no, it’s 40 F. One even claims it’s 50 F and sunny. Such a disparity.

A Facebook memory reminds me that ten years ago, we were dealing with heavy snow on this date. This has been a terribly dry but cold December so far.

The neighbor’s yard on the left of my yard, ten years ago.

While looking out the window today, I thought, I don’t think the sun’s coming out today. Of course, that’s an irrational thought. The sun was out there, as it always is as we spin and race through space. Just that fog was preventing it from reaching us in the strong and meaningful ways that I prefer.

The Neurons caught my thoughts. They’re always spying on me, so I wasn’t surprised. They responded with “Change” by Blind Melon in the morning mental music stream. No doubt, the first line influenced them: “I don’t feel the sun’s comin’ out today.” Beyond weather and the sun, I find the song a thoughtful reflection about feeling disenchanted and challenging yourself about what you’re going to do about it.

Coffee has come to save me again in what little ways it can. Hope peace and grace come by your place for a bit. Here we go, one more time. Cheers

Fridaz Theme Music

It’s a sighing kind of day. Sunshine is spare as rain falls and gray clouds swallow the valley. 46 F now, we’re almost at our high. Yes, good to have some rain. But not so good for my spirit today, Frida, December 5, 2025. On the plus side of things, Wordle, Connections, and the Spelling Bee were all easy. So I have that going for me.

Mom and sis are again having issues. These are also adjustment things. Relates to how things used to be done when Mom and Frank lived together and Frank ran Mom’s errands. Sam’s Club was being used as Mom’s pharmacy. That was cost-effective and convenient for them. Sam’s Club was just less than ten minutes away, an easy drive. Frank enjoyed going through, picking up the prescriptions, doing some shopping, getting gas. Sam’s Club is nowhere near sis’s house. Going through is an hour plus investment of time and effort deeply affected by traffic and weather. Sis asked Mom to change her pharmacy to CVS because it’s just a few minutes away. Mom said she called the Sam’s Club and told them. No, Mom needs to call her doctor and tell them. She says she did. They told another sister that Mom’s message couldn’t be understood. Sis asked Mom to call them again. Mom said, no, she’s only allowed to call the doctor once a day. WTF? So yeah, confusion, frustrations, and stress are rising. Doesn’t help sis that she’s working this week so much of this is being conducted via phone calls and text messages while she’s at work. It’ll pass. Hopefully that’ll happen soon, and without much bloodshed. This sort of reminds me of the novel, Corrections.

Today’s music is dedicated to Trump and his enablers. After news reading that encouraged headshaking, groaning, growling, and sighs, The Neurons put Linda Ronstadt in the morning mental music stream with her cover of “You’re No Good”.

My wife raised this issue today: why didn’t the Trump Regime pick up those two survivors of the boat attack and question them for intelligence and information? Answer: because it’s about killing and making a show, and not about truth, facts, facts. She continues to advocate for the guillotine. She believes drastic changes will be needed once Trump is gone, and the only way to emphasize that We the People are serious is to lop off a few heads. Mitch McConnell tops her list. Weird to hear this lifelong pacifist advocate cutting off heads but that’s where we’re at.

Coffee and I are making nice again. Time to get out and do other things. Hope peace and grace light your day for a bit. Here I go, into the rain. Cheers

A Dream of Cougars

Sunset was turning the day into a purple cloud darkness. I was getting into a large, shiny black SUV. My wife was with me, and some others, but they’re unknown. As the mechanics of starting the vehicle and guiding it out of a parking lot to a road was finished, I realized that something was on the vehicle’s front end. That something progressed fast from ‘something’ to a full-grown cougar. With that registering, I stopped the car and told the rest what I saw, then stepped out of the vehicle to cautiously approach the animal. Alive, it clung to the front with its claws. I told it, “Shoo.” To my amazement, the cougar departed its space, trotting away from me, amusing, mysterious, bewildering.

Returning to the vehicle, I drove for some time. Arriving somewhere during daytime, my wife and I left the vehicle to shop in some little stores. Not particularly interested in shopping, I found a cushioned bench where I sat. Feeling drowsy, I laid down to nap. I awoke after some unknown time because a small stripped tabby cat was curled up against me and purring in my ear. Fully awake, I put and scratched the sweet, loving animal. It trotted off, tail high, after a short time.

My wife came and I told her what happened. She was marginally interested, annoying me. We went out and found ourselves on the top tier of a large sports arena. Some football game was underway. I gathered this was a college or university. Skirting the game, my wife and I went down to register for classes. When I walked into the administration building, a large cougar leaped into my arms and held onto me. I was so astonished and a little wary but the animal wasn’t threatening. After some seconds of holding the cougar as it held me, a female administrator came by and told the animal to leave me alone, which it did, trotting off down a hall, disappearing through an open door.

After talking about classes, my wife and I, accompanied by a female friend, went out to walk some trails that crossed the campus. These took us into some small, rocky mountains. The day grew hot under a bright sun. My wife decided to sit and rest. I went on a bit. Looking back, I saw that she’d fallen asleep so I laid down to nap. I took off my pants, leaving me in a shirt and underwear, but covered myself with a light blanket. The friend came up. She teased and flirted with me, suggesting she wanted to join me. While I rejected her, I also wanted her, and found the entire encounter intensely erotic.

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