Friday’s Theme Music — Excursions

Ashland, southern Oregon — Friday, May 29, 2026.

Other months have gone by so fast for me this year. May feels like it’s dragging. Looking at the calendar, I’m surprised two more days remain in May.

I looked back at a post last year in May I wrote. I was complaining about the rain then, too. Today is gloomy, rainy, showery, 53 F with 64 high expected. Papi had to bring his outside show inside where he can sleep in dry warmth. Right now, he’s balled himself tight on the bed, eyes closed, snooze position assumed.

My sisters and their others have feverishly worked on cleaning and emptying Mom’s house, preparing it for the realtor’s photos and staging, and making a little money from Mom’s goods. Mom’s bedroom is empty, as is her tiny dining room.

Funny, though, Mom has actually used four different rooms as her bedroom. When she first bought the house, the upstairs was rented out as an apartment. So Mom’s bedroom was what was the dining room. Then she took the top floor back and moved into the ‘big’ bedroom. When Frank moved in, they shared that room for a while. When she started her medical issues, she moved into a smaller room because it was the only one with an air conditioner. Then, last year, with her mobility faltering, the back porch was re-purposed as her bedroom. A beautiful space, she was only in there for a few months.

I visited Mom, noting the changes. Each marked another season of Mom. I think she’s in her final season now.

My wife continues here cleaning/purging frenzy. A drawer, cupboard, or closet each day is done. She sets items out for me to judge: what do they go to? Do we need them? Do they work? What should we do with them?

She told me, “This is the easy stuff. I’m dreading when I get to the big stuff, the things that really matter. It’s going to be tough.”

Over on the Trump front, it’s amazing how quickly the performer lineup for Trump’s America 250 celebration is changing. The venue is called ‘The Great American State Farm’. Many of the artists said they had no idea that it was associated with Trump and turned it down after learning of his involvement. It’s almost like the Trump brand is tainted.

Food prices are up. The NYT reports: “Prepare for sticker shock as summer barbecue season heats up: The price of beef is sizzlingly high. Grilled sirloin will cost more than $14 a pound, on average, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, up 20 percent since last year.”

Sirloin is not alone as a higher price from a year ago:

• Tomatoes — 39.7 percent
• Instant coffee — 22.8 percent
• Coffee — 18.5 percent
• Uncooked beef roasts — 17.8 percent
• Roasted coffee — 17.3 percent

Trump has failed to lower the prices, though. Instead, his actions and policies keep driving food prices up. Energy prices are up, thanks to Trump. And the supply chain has been disrupted, thanks to Trump.

The Trump Iran War continues. So, food prices will continue rising. Trump couldn’t lower them before the war; there’s no reason to believe he’ll be able to after the war — whenever his ‘excursion’ ends.

Besides the war going on, the Epstein files have not been released, and the $1 billion Epstein ballroom is still under construction.

Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! is in a quiet period.

Today’s music is “Purple Rain” by Prince. Two factors played into this. I was talking to Papi about the rain. I was also deciding what to wear. I felt a long sleeve shirt would be appropriate for today. However, I often wear purple on Fridays. I don’t have a long-sleeved purple shirt.

The Neurons put this all together. Voila! “Purple Rain” began playing in the morning mental music stream. Prince said about the song, “When there’s blood in the sky… red and blue = purple. Purple rain pertains to the end of the world and being with the one you love and letting your faith/God guide you through the purple rain.”

Seems right for this time, when we’re divided as a nation into red and blue, and purple is considered a swing area.

May your day be bright with peace and promise.

Cheers

At the Goodwill

My wife and I are on the Oregon coast. We ate a wonderful fresh breakfast at the Fresh Harvest Cafe. Then we hit the local Goodwill.

My wife enjoys visiting Goodwill stores. She likes bargains and she likes re-using things. She did say today, “I’m not buying anything new. I’m death cleaning so whenever I see something I want, I just tell myself, ‘You’ll just have to throw it out.'” Books are the exceptions. We bought four, two for each of us.

Killing time, I wander the store and write a short story in my head. It’s about a future Goodwill. Dystopian situation. A guy ransacks an unused house. There’s a lot of them. Finding a cache of shot glasses, he brings them to the Goodwill. They give him a small bag of peanuts for them. He sits outside in the sunshine, savoring every nut as he eats them.

My sister texted me about her grandson’s birthday. He’s already fifteen, thoroughly discombobulating my brain, which still thinks of him as much younger. His mother is still a teenager in my thoughts. To see that he’s now a teenager is too much. I do the slow math; I was fifty-five when he was born. Time, you know?

Sis tells me that her grandson went to an Escape Room for his birthday. Muses gather in my head to conceptualize fiction about Escape Rooms.

Sis interrupts with a text abut Mom. She’s taken Mom to Urgent Care for another suspected UTI. Mom complains about dizziness as she Mom gets in and out of her wheelchair and the car.

Browsing Goodwill shelves, I see things which might be in my home. I go through an aisle of tools and imagine my tools in there.

I believe I have seen the future.

Leaving the building, I breath in fresh air and smile at the sunshine on my face.

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