I was at some resort/business conference, mixing business with pleasure. Younger, I was traveling alone but had met with a group, mostly male, but a few female acquaintances. No relatives were present.
Everything was going smoothly. Prizes were being given out, assignments made, directions planned. While off on my own to one side, sitting, I ran into a former female boss. She asked about my health. I told her about my tendon surgery, showing her where the incision had been made. Then I reminded her that she’d known about that. Agreeing, she wished me well and moved on.
I then moved to another place, a tall table with a chair, to wait for friends. A man passed. I knew of him – elderly, with silvery gray hair, dignified, and gay. I also knew his name was Michael, same as mine. We exchanged nods as greetings.
My name was called to pick up a package, I went to a counter cluttered with packages. One was given to me. As I looked at the name, I saw the first name was Michael but a Spanish surname followed. I knew it was the dignified man’s name and pointed out that this wasn’t my package. I was told that the other guy had turned it down, so it was being given to me, and that I should take it and like it because it was a better package than what I would get.
I went off with that and ran into friends, explaining the package thing with them. Then I returned to the tall table and chair.
The dignified Michael passed several more times. I chatted with him, flirting with him about his plans. He was amused but kept quiet.
I then went to be with another group. More prizes were being given out, and I was again given dignified Michael’s package. I then commented that I kept receiving his package instead of mine.
I stripped off my clothes and was in a neon orange speedo. I decided to walk a back over to where food was now being given out. Although I was almost naked and was drawing attention in my bright speedo, I was comfortable, and heard women whispering how good I looked, which made me grin inside. I then got to the counter where I was given a third, larger package for the other Michael.
Ashland, Oregon — Sunday, February 22, 2026. Sunshine washes mountain conifers and hardwoods as ominous clouds float away, revealing a hazy blue sky. 51 degrees now, a 56 F high is projected.
Papi is enjoying the wind-free sunshine, soaking it up like his body was starving for it, then rolling around on the patio.
It’s quieter back east this morning as Mom tries again to reset everyone’s relationship with her back to what it was a month ago. She’s trying to engage allies to move her back home; all of her offspring agree, sorry, Mom, but where you’re at is the best situation for you. It’ll take a long time for Mom to accept that.
On top of that, though, sis reports that she’s sick today. While the stress didn’t help, neither did her daughter’s illness. It’s going around, and sis’s daughter didn’t take precautions to avoid contaminating others. Sigh.
News headlines were about an armed man being shot and killed at Mar-a-Lago and Trump raising tariffs, among others. The basic scan reveals a chaotic but quiet Sunday morning.
This is our new norm as Trump challenges norms and ignores lawful processes and limits, such as firing James W Hundley. The Trump administration failed to follow the process to have an AG appointed for Eastern Virginia. A law covers that contingency, and the Virginia judiciary followed that law, appointing Hundley. The Trump Administration promptly fired him without cause, despite him being legally appointed. And so, another legal battle ensues.
Just think, it was only a year ago that DOGE was spreading a swath of destruction across the federal government. We’re still learning the ramifications. Trump may consider himself the peace president and a uniter, but I see him as the President of Chaos, sowing and encouraging it, to no one’s benefit but his own.
It’s interesting to remember, too, that Trump first promised to ‘declassify’ the Epstein files while campaigning in June of 2024. Then he dismissed it as a hoax. Since then, We the People notice a continuous pattern that he delays and distracts. Meanwhile, in Europe, real justice is being pursued. They are setting the standard that the United States needs to follow. Although I do note that right now, they’re going after the former prince for divulging information and not other crimes, but other crimes are being investigated.
Sensing my mood, The Neurons have plucked Rush out of memory and put “Working Man” in the morning mental music stream. This is a song that says to me, you gotta keep doing what you need to do. That’s about how I feel for today. Press on regardless.
Lyricsh/t Genius.com
It seems to me I could live my life A lot better than I think I am I guess that’s why they call me They call me the workin’ man
Let’s give a shout out to peace and grace, see if we can get them back into our lives and move forward into a better existence.
Ashland, Oregon — Saturday, February 21, 2026. 40 F, the wind is beating the trees up. Sunshine intermittently brightens the world but someone spilled a can of mottle gray paint over the sky. Today’s high will be in the low fifties.
Great night of sleep, a few remembered dreams. My nose and nasal passages are about 90% clear today. Light, unproductive cough. Mucus discharge was thick and green, the first like that. Energy levels and focus are way up. It’s day 11 of my upper respiratory infection.
My mornings now include an hour catching up on text messages about Mom. She’s in assisted living, plans to stay there until the end of February, and then return to her home. We’re against that last, and so is everyone else in the world. But the system says, let her do as she chooses because she’s an adult. Our reasoning doesn’t sway her. I put out energy that she’ll change her mind, be happy, and stay where she’s at. At the same time, I respect all the changes she’s been enduring. That’s tough on anyone.
I’ve also been in conversations with others and know our problems with our aging parent is not that rare. We, as a society, need to figure out a better plan moving forward. This is not sustainable, and I want to spare others this sort of mess.
With all that’s going on — writing, politics, Mom — well, life — The Neurons have introduced “Roll with the Changes” into the morning mental music stream. REO Speedwagon released it back in the late 1970s, and I always enjoy its high energy. I think it’s perfect for shifting gears from recovering from sickness, dealing with Mom, and coping with the Trump cycles. In a way, I hope it presages a future where more SCOTUS decisions go against Trump and more people announce their disapproval of him and/or his policies. I also hope it foretells more names coming from the Epstein files and some justice for the people who abused others, and those who were abused. The Europeans are leading the way in this, so let’s hope that the truth emerges from across the ocean, as our government seems too eager to predict the guilty and damn the innocent.
Friends have invited us over to play games at their place with another couple, so I’ll be socializing. Going to go the whole nine yards — shower, shave, dress. LOL. I can imagine people responding, “Well, I hope so.”
My hope for you and me and us is that we all get a little more than the recommended daily minimum of grace and peace in our lives today, maybe enough to fertilize some optimism for where we’re going and who we are as a people and a nation. For now, I have coffee.
Dry, but cold — wintry — is how to describe today. Dropped down to 25 during the night but it’s now 45 F with a thin and thick clouds stewing in a pale blue sky. 45 is the day’s expected high.
First, I’m freaking ecstatic by the Supreme Court ruling striking down Trump’s tariffs. Now we wait to see if he attempts an edn around or ignores the ruling. I expect him to fully trash the ruling without expressing any real knowledge about it; the ruling goes against him so he will swear vengeance.
Now, too, he may be required to repay all those tariffs already collected. Trump will stall and lie on that, as he stalls so many times when he declares something is great, solved, or over, whether it’s things like the Epstein files, the wars he’s ended, or his healthcare plan.
Predictably, Trump also blamed recent bad economic news on the partial government shutdown. He also blamed that on Democrats, even though he’s in the White House and the GOP control Congress.
Of course he’s blaming Democrats. His deepest base will accept that because of their information channels. Indicators are, though, more people are turning away from Trump and his lies and policies.
Not surprising, either, that Trump seems to be preparing to go to war against Iran, position more war machines in that region. He probably thinks it’ll distract us from the Epstein files, the worsening affordability situation, and his growing unpopularity. Remember, this is a man who considers himself a unifier and ‘the peace president’.
I hoped to return to writing at the coffee shop today but decided I’m not well enough. Although much better, I have a sometimes hoarse, hacking cough, and breathing through my nose challenges me. Regretfully, I’ll holding off going there although I will — again — try to write at home. Meanwhile, my to-be-written list grows with new novel concepts. It’s starting to become as large as my to-be-read list.
Over on Mom’s Saga…
Per plans and agreements made between Mom, the social worker, and the assisted living facility, Mom was transported over to her new residence. Per their instructions to her, they requested payment. She said, no.
We the children are not surprised. We speculated Mom had a long game in mind. Agree to be moved from the hospital to the nursing home. Then refuse to pay. In her mind, she would then have to go back to her house. But for her to be taken there, she has to be released to a family member. We are all united that we will not pick her up.
We love our mother. We want her safe and happy. But she insists that she can live alone and care for herself. It’s been proven that she can’t. She won’t accept it.
It’s all hard words to write. Those are simple summaries of very long conversations between the five siblings.
This was why we pursued the 302 process. The county reversed it. They brought this on. We reiterated that to them today. Maybe they will learn.
It’s exhausting. Mom texts grandchildren at night. They text their mothers. The mothers — my sisters — alert the rest of us on group texts.
Sis has been magnificent, working on our behalf, working on Mom’s behalf.
That’s where it all stands today, Friday, Feb. 20th.
Here’s Arcade Fire with “Keep the Car Running”. It so ideally slots into my mood. I think Les Neurons made a terrific music choice. Essentially, it’s an Orwellian tale of a person having a recurring dream of being trapped in a city that keeps changing.
I went into a square space, modern but sparse, where small desks lined the walls. Windows were there but closed, the lighting was good.
It was very busy. I set down my laptop bag and set up to work. In many ways, this was just like going into the coffee shop to work, sans coffee and food. I found an open space. To my left, a young girl was set up with her laptop and focused on it.
I set up my laptop and went to work on my novel. After a short period, two very young girls came in. One looked Japanese.
Walking over they stopped behind me and stared at me. I glanced back several times, wondering who they were and what was going on.
Then they moved over to the young woman to my left. They seemed to know each other. I continued working.
One little girl tapped me on the shoulder. I turned with a questioning look. She said, “We like to play without making noise.”
I was like, “What?”
The young woman on her computer said, “She said, we like to play without making noise.”
Which didn’t explain anything.
The first little girl said, “You’re making noise.”
I asked, “What noise am I making?”
Then I awoke.
Thinking over the dream, I realized that my breathing was noisy and wondered if that’s what the little girl meant. But then I thought, no, this is real life. I wasn’t making a noise in the dream.
After being awake a bit and thinking about it, I returned to the dream.
Now the room was empty except for the one girl working on her laptop. I went to pack my gear but couldn’t find my laptop bag. I recalled where I’d put it when I came in, that it was sort of chaotic at that point and I had to find a place for it.
It’d apparently been moved. I located it beneath some clutter but when I went to get it, several young boys threw themselves on top of the junk on top of my bag, thwarting me. I eventually explained what was going on and get the bag. I found the whole thing funny.
I then went out to another part. They were being set up for a fair or a show. It was messed up in one corner where a young woman was trying to do one thing and a middle-aged man with a ladder was trying to do something else. Seeing what needed to be done, I stepped in and helped.
The young woman was immediately grateful. The man appreciated what I did but his temper was on edge from something else happening. He snapped out at other people who were in the way of him maneuvering his large ladder. I patted his shoulder in empathy, and he gave me a short smile.
He finally left with the ladder. I helped the woman return a small table to where it needed to be and reset a few things that were on display. A green awning was sagging down. She was trying to adjust it so I helped. When she did, I saw dirt fall out of it onto the display, so I shook out the awning out further away from the display but hadn’t thought about where the dirt would fall instead.
Leaning over a railing, I tried to see if it hit anything.
Dream end.
PS – I had another short dream where I had my eyes closed. Suddenly, I could see through my eyelids, startling me awake.
More snow was falling and an inch accumulated. 35 degrees F, sunshine emerged, the snow stopped, and today’s accumulation melted off the streets. We still have several inches in the yard but the roads are clear. Today’s high will be 41 among expectations that more snow flurries are due.
My cold is so much better today. I slept terrific, straight through about five and a half hours. Didn’t get up to pee, blow my nose or take meds, or read a text, stacking small victories.
As I reflected on my cold, I thought about how long it was lasting and remembered reading about a virulent strain going around the region.
I began exploring my cold as a vehicle for reacting to life. Some with the cold would rush to the medical facilities for help. Others would take no protections and keep working either because they financially needed to or they wanted others to catch the cold so we could develop ‘herd immunity’.
A faction might use the cold as a launching pad to campaign against our modern diets and processed foods. Others might see the cold as proof that our society is over-vaccinated. I think a sector would call it a warning to get closer to mother nature, and another group would decree that the cold and its spread is due to modern stress weakening our systems and high population densities.
In truth, I suspect the cold and its spread has some truth in all of these things. Our modern life feels like it makes everything monolithic when there are so many nuances and variables involved.
Mom’s saga continues in Pittsburgh, PA. Sis sent out alarming emails at 4 AM eastern time about her anger at Mom and how she wasn’t going to do this and that. The tone worried me. Sis is Mom’s primary engine at this point and if she quit on behalf of Mom, team Mom would be seriously depleted.
But that rant seemed to help her because this morning, she was more methodical and very calm, checking out assistance living places, talking to the social worker, etc. I let out a huge sigh of relief.
Riding some dream energy. The Neurons noticed and fed the morning mental music stream with The War on Drugs and “Red Eyes” from 2013. Its vibe suits my mood.
Lyrics h/t to Genius.com
[Verse 1] Come and see Where I witness everything On my knees You beat it down to get to my soul Against my will Anyone could tell us you’re coming Baby don’t mind Leave it on the line, leave it hanging on a rail
[Verse 2] Come and ride away It’s easier to stick to the old Surrounded by the night Surrounded by the night, and you don’t give in But you abuse my faith Losing every time but I don’t know where You’re on my side again So ride the heat wherever it goes I’ll be the one to care, woo!
Hope you have some strong, positive energy today and it takes you to good places. Until later. Cheers
Our big snowstorm is over! We’re melting out of it. Sunshine rules although washed gray clouds coil and twine on windbound courses of the snowy mountains. More snow is expected tomorrow morning, and rain is forecast for tomorrow afternoon.
How many inches we got yesterday depends on what part of town you’re in. One section saw twelve. We saw seven at our house, sunshine reduced it to three fast.
It’s 35 F now. Three hours ago, it was 26. The high is expected to be 41.
Ah, time. Enormous time was spent texting sisters about Mom’s situation. We’re frustrated and sad and often feel helpless. I think the people at the hospital and the social workers understand this and are doing their best. I think Mom is, too. As someone commented, there’s a lot of relationship history built into this moment. Mom and Frank were firm on their choices; they were not moving into assisted living.
‘Water under the bridge’ is the easy way to dismiss it all, but that water runs deeper than it first appears.
Things will be resolved with Mom but it won’t be a resolution that any of us want to own. It won’t satisfy anyone involved. At least for now, the short term. Perhaps, in a year, it’ll be different. What am I saying? It will be different. The greater question is, how will it be different?
I spent a lot of time this morning reading about the EPA’s Endangerment Finding EPA decision. While it’s an agency decision, deeper implications arise about short-term and long-term effects and the government’s role and responsibility to mitigate them. Beyond that, we have established history of how the Clean Air Act helped us become healthier. When we’re healthier, we’re happier and more productive. Yet — here we are, mired in controversy.
My views about what’s going on politically are also tainted with his use of the military. I don’t approve of that.
And my views are tarnished because history says what tariffs will and won’t do, and the majority of economic experts agree. Yet, Trump and his administration is doing the opposite.
It’s the same pattern with COVID-19, and now the same with vaccinations and the measles outbreaks. I ask myself, what will it take, and end up, nodding, yes, FAFO. That’s just how some minds work.
I’m disappointed, too, that MAGA supporters lambast President Biden for what they perceived as his mental and physical limitations, and yet treat Trump as though he’s a gift from God. And yes, I understand the role of social media and information bubbles, and news spin. But understanding those doesn’t alleviate my disappointment, conversely enhancing my frustration and disappointment.
I feel like I’m on the sidelines in many ways, watching, commenting, but removed, and maybe too insulated and isolated. It’s no surprise that The Neurons brought John Lennon with “Watching the Wheels” into my morning mental music stream.
May peace and grace get through to you and carry you on through the fray to better times.
I was prescribed post-surgery meds and went to the drug store to pick them up.
Walking through the drugstore parking lot to buy them, I saw a small yellow car. Circling closer, I confirmed, 1964 Dodge Valiant, just like my stepfather drove. Might have been a different year but it was the same model and color.
I remembered him bringing it home although I don’t recall what he drove before that. I rarely rode in it. This was ‘his car’, something to commute to work and go off to bet. George was a gambler and went to the horse races five or six days a week, trying for a big score. He won big twice. Once was a $25,000 Daily Double payout, providing the down payment on a newly built brick ranch in Penn Hills.
Later, he won enough to buy a new 1976 Chevy Camaro. Like his Valiant, this was pale yellow, three-speed on the column and a black and white checked interior. Sis hated that car.
All of us disliked driving with George. Tending to drive about five miles an hour below the speed limit, he also liked to get into the faster lanes but not go faster. This terrified us as other drivers pulled up, slowed down and then sped past with blaring horns. Mom would often snap, “My God, get out of this lane.” George wouldn’t budge, though, sailing on without regard to others’ opinions.
The yellow Dodge in the drugstore parking lot had tiny tires and petite chrome bumpers, appearing small and fragile among the huge SUVs and a couple of ‘compact’ Toyotas and Hondas. All the modern vehicles were white, black, gray, or silver. Nowhere was another yellow car.
Seeing it still brought a smile as I walked on, reflecting, what a different world. And yet, back in the 1960s, that Valiant would have shown up as so much different than the preceding decades.
Who knows what our 2026 cars will look like compared to the cars of 2086.
Our first snowfall of the season has arrived. 32 F, about 3 inches have accumulated in my area. Heavier accumulations are expected in the mountains, but much more is needed. We depend on the snowbanks for our summer water.
It’s a pretty scene out there. At this temperature and elevation, heavy, fat flakes fall without stop. We’re expected to warm up to 41 today and the snow is forecast to become rain. Temperatures tonight are projected to drop into the upper twenties, and more snow is possible.
Speaking for himself, Papi offered a disdainful sniff and found a place inside to groom.
I had my best night sleep in days last, and my mind moves through concerns. My cold is winding down, as expected for day 6. Only one nostril is blocked, no sinus pressure is felt, and the violent sneezes that left my abdomen sore have subsided.
My wife asked yesterday, “Which is worse, cold pain or your oral surgery pain?”
Oh, easy, the cold by far. I feel next to nothing from the oral surgery. The surgical team did a good job. I still have stitches, but they’ll fall out on their own.
My wife’s cold seemed to be gone by Sunday. I had it worse than her but for both it was an upper respiratory infection.
Mom’s situation has occupied me more than my health and weather. After her suicide attempt on Saturday, we had a mandatory stay put on her for evaluation. A psychiatrist reversed that yesterday and the hospital said she could be discharged.
It seemed like the hospital was falling short in several areas. Mom was supposed to be evaluated for 72 hours for mental health and physical issues. They also said they had to wait to see if her urine tested negative for infections, which was supposed to be four days. Their rushed timeline alarmed us.
Besides Mom’s health, we have questions over where she will live and how she’ll get care. Yesterday involved phone calls and texts, trying to sort information and get answers. Today we have more methodical movement.
Essentially, because no family members would pick Mom up, the hospital was forced to house her again. It’s a painful way to say it but that’s the truth.
Physical and occupational therapists evaluated her today. They recommend assisted living or a skilled nursing home for Mom. The social worker seemed remote and disengaged yesterday. Today, she provided recommendations and contacts for finding housing and assistance for Mom.
Venting a little, I foresaw this years ago and tried getting Mom into a better place but she, bolstered by Frank’s presence, didn’t want to address it. Now it’s a crisis. It could have gone so much better, but yes, I know, it’s an emotional issue for most of us. I worry that I’ll be like Mom if I have to make such decisions in my future.
I’m hopeful that with the focus on Mom, we’ll finally get her somewhere that can provide her with satisfactory arrangement. An agency has been contacted to work out the arrangements to see what Mom wants and needs, and review the financial part. It’s progress.
Dad’s wife reached out to me yesterday via text. He was writing Christmas cards when he suddenly became ill and died. The cards were never sent.
His wife told me that he loved doing the cards each year, which surprised me, and that his card to me and my wife was in the mail. I think it sweet of him and her extra effort moves me.
In other focus areas, I’m concerned with the different military buildups happening around the world. More war machines are being shifted to the Arctic area. Additional U.S. troops are in Africa in advisory and training capacities. History shows that such involvement can easily rise into armed conflicts.
It’s a great concern with Trump. When Americans — two military members and a translator — were killed by ISIS, Trump ordered attacks in December. Operation Hawkeye Strike against 70 ISIS targets in Syria was conducted in early days but the military campaign is still active.
Just as worrying, a second U.S. carrier group is being sent to that region. It seems like the world is moving from trying diplomatic channels to manage disagreements to using military force.
Finally, to complete the circle of concerns, got my auto insurance bill yesterday. Premiums jumped $50, adding to our general affordability worries.
Jumping onto the idea of circles, The Neurons ordered some Billy Preston. “Will It Go Round in Circles” from 1973 is playing in the morning mental music stream. I also enjoy the song’s musical intricacies, and the lyrics make me grin. Here’s my favorite part.
Lyrics
I’ve got a dance I ain’t got no steps, no I’m gonna let the music move me around I’ve got a dance I ain’t got no steps I’m gonna let the music move me around
Yes, just let the music move me around.
Now I got my coffee. I had a cup yesterday, first since my surgery, but today, I’m drinking it hot out of the pot.
Hope your day finds a groove that takes you to a place where peace and grace join you and makes your life a little better.
Ashland, Oregon – Monday, February 16, 2026. 41 F under a blend of blue skies and clouds. 54% percent chance of snow, with a a high of 48 and a low of 30. Showers are possible.
The Mom saga resumed. Despite Mom’s talk of suicide Saturday and her wild accusations, she’s being discharged today.
She has nowhere to go. Mom called sis to get a ride. Sis is adamant that Mom is not returning to her house. No one else can take her in. I’m amazed that the medical authorities so quickly decided that Mom is physically and mentally capable. I have a long list of reasons why I don’t think she is. I guess their requirements are different.
New update: My other sister called the hospital to confirm they were letting Mom out. The hospital ‘had their wires crossed’ and did not know about Mom’s suicide. A 302 process had been started but the hospital missed that part. The hearing was scheduled and has not been held.
I made a number of calls and spoke with people involved, and then passed that info back to my sisters, who were the 302 petitioners. They must talk to the hospital and stop them from discharging Mom.
It’s frustrating, trying to cut through the fog of information and bureaucracy, a situation compounded by distance.
Here’s a little Jimi Hendrix with “Manic Depression” to lift your spirits. Hope you all find some peace and grace today and that it keeps answering the call for you.
Michael Seidel, writer 