Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Clouds are climbing over the mountains and shouldering the blue sky and sunshine out of the valley. It’s Thursda, June 19, 2025. Today will tap out in the low to mid 70s after breaking down to the low fifties, all Fahrenheit, in the night. Rain might be coming tomorrow, along with lower temperatures.
We’re watching a fire to our west. In the Upper Applegate/Ruch area, it’s already eaten over 350 acres. Firefighters are working it; the cooler temperatures are helping. Some smoke is slipping our way, taxing our air quality.
News about Mom is not readily available. When we last left her story, she’d been taken to the hospital where, at a few minutes after midnight, they weren’t sure they were keeping her or discharging her. She was constipated and in intense pain. They don’t know what’s causing the pain.
Today’s music is by the O’Jays. “Love Train” is part of the Philly sound. Coming out in 1972, many call it early disco but I book it as R&B. Whatever genre you label it, the song was part of a more optimistic period, when we were saying, hey, peace and brotherhood are good things and they are possible. It’s possible for us all to live side by side and not just survive but thrive. Some, though, fell behind while others were thriving. Contemptuous neer’ do wells use the gap to wedge people further apart and pour hate in. Whatever someone hates or doesn’t like, they find someone on ‘the other side’ to hate for it. The Neurons hooked it when a snatch of song was heard which may have been “Love Train”. So here we are.
It’s a short entry. I’m off for oral surgery now. Coffee, food, and any fluids are currently off limits. See you on the rebound. Cheers
I sent Mom a food package. It’s not stuff I make. Let’s not be rude. I’ve ordered from Omaha Steaks, as once before. She lost power for days in May’s end, thanks to a windsorm. Mom always kept their box freezer and two refrigerators stocked enough to supply exploring parties coming by who need replenishing. With the power gone, so are her provisions. So I sent a small package of prepared food.
She and her boyfriend are often oblivious about what’s going on directly outside of the house. One of the standard operating rules has become, if you send a package, let Mom know when it’s delivered so someone will go out and bring it in.
Her package arrived today. I notified her via a text. I received no response back and haven’t had responses to any of the last three texts. I reach out to my sisters. Mom lives in Penn Hills, just outside of Pittsburgh, PA. The sisters live within twenty minutes of her. I explain my side and ask for a Momrep. Like me, none have heard from her. Youngest sister reaches out.
Mom responds: “I haven’t been out of bed today. I don’t feel well and I have my legs hurt so bad when I try to move. Frank can’t tae care of me. He gets too dizzy. I need dry diapers right now so it’s terrible.”
I read this and grit my teeth. Mom is 89. Frank, her live-in boyfriend, is 95. We’ve been trying to get them into assisted living for years. They won’t go. Nor will they accept assistance like nurses and caregivers. Now it’s a mess and another crises. The two of them are now averaging three crises a year. This is just June and this is already the third one fo 2025.
One sister heads over there. She reports, “Mom is on the edge of her bed getting a pad made up in her brief. Her gown is wet. She’s changing it now.”
We’re on a group text. Questions are raised and answered. “Yes, she’s eaten today but didn’t take any pain pills until now. I’m cleaning her up and having her taken to the hospital.”
We’re all relieved to hear that. They can take care of her in the hospital. We’ll sleep a little easier but it’s just one more moment in a wearying, debilitating series.
Getting old isn’t fun. Taking care of someone getting old isn’t either. Especially when you’re far away and there’s not much you can do.
Welcome, welcome to Twosda, June 17, 2025. We’re continuing a nice weather balance in Ashlandia, dropping into the fifties at night, sunny & cloudy during the day, high of 84 F. No one has been heard complaining.
Although I slept well, I had a night rich with dreams. Papi has refined a way of awakening me which can only be called a bark. I don’t know where this cat learned his bark. I guess he went out and hung around with some dogs, heard them barking, and then imitated them. It’s effective — for him. I wish he’d go back to purrs and nuzzles.
My wife’s ‘movie group’ is meeting today. One of them began hosting about a dozen of her exercise class comrades to watch and discuss movies. Today, they’re watching the 1990 flick, Truly, Madly, Deeply, in which the late Alan Rickman plays a ghost, and Juliet Stevenson is his widow. What surprised me was how many of the rest professed to be unaware of the film. My wife and I both enjoyed it on its theater run and have seen it again since. She is a big fan of it and suggested the film. I’m interested in learning whether others remember the film when they see it again.
Dad’s surgery went well. He told me that his kidney was stented; his wife said, no, he had a nephrostomy tube and drainage bag installed. Come on, give him a break; he’s 92. When I speak to him and ask him for details such as, “Where did they put the stent,” he replies, “Hell, I don’t know. Ask Maxine. She takes notes.” Maxine is his wife (#3, and the longest tenured wife by far).
There’s something wrong with Trump. We have many ideas about what it is. Now we have Catheter Gate & Bag Gate. This is based on Trump’s leaning forward walk, like something is irritating his ass, and photos which seem to show a catheter installed in his johnson area. Since he’s our elected official, don’t we have a right to know? To employ the voice used when Republicans are demanding answers from Democrats, WHAT ARE THEY HIDING FROM US? IS TRUMP DYING? Well, of course he’s dying — just ask Sen. Joni Ernst. But is he dying so fast that he’s failing to do us job? Is he a liability? We the People demand to know the truth about what’s protruding in those photos. Snopes claims they investigated and Trump isn’t wearing a catheter but the Trump Regime may have gotten to them. We want answers and we won’t accept anything reasonable until Trump takes off his pants on national TV and shows us that he’s not wearing a catheter, bag, or diaper. Even then, we probably won’t accept it because that could be Trump clone or a Trumpbot, or AI creating a wholly fake television event.
Trump fled the G7 conference in Canada. He claimed it was because of Mid East tensions but many believe he was just Taco Always Chickening Out again. In this case, the meeting was structured, they weren’t deferring to him, and he wasn’t getting the attention he wanted and kept being quoted saying stupid things, so he fled. That’s so TACO!
Today’s music is “Tough Guy”. It’s a 1980 Reo Speedwagon song. Don’t know why The Neurons plugged it into the morning mental music stream. I was just reading the news online about Trump fleeing the G7 when that song kicked off in the stream.
Coffee has snuggled into my system again. You all have a good one. Here we go, one more time. Cheers
Sunda June 15, 2025 has taken off. It remains chill in Ashlandia, mostly sunny but clouds are clotting. 74 F now, the high will see us ten degrees warmer.
First, a shout out to the anti-King contingency and their nation-wide and world-wide showings. Millions showed for the cause. Meanwhile, PINO TACO and his minions endured a dour, sluggish, pitiful parade. The Army and its members deserve better; little TACO does not. MAGA and its orange chief should understand now that TACO’s attitude and lackadaisical treatment of people and rights is not appreciated. They won’t, of course. TACO lives in a bubble, as do the MAGAts. Trumpettes reinforce the positive and shield him from the negative. His delusional thinking does the rest. TACO and his support nachos will blame the fake news media, AI, etc — anything except the truth — to pretend that it was a fabulous parade, probably the GREATEST AND BIGGEST MOST BEAUTIFUL PARADE EVER!
Anyway…
It’s Father’s Day, a holiday begun when fathers said, “I’m tired of working. I’m taking the day off.” People responded, “How ’bout a tie? You’ll look good with a tie and that’ll make you feel better.” And so a tradition was born.
Called Dad today. He remains hospitalized. Surgery is planned for tomorrow. Although 92, he’s never been through surgery and he’s scared and nervous. I’ve been through a few surgeries and helped reassure him. As we spoke, he began remembering all the injuries I’ve experienced and joked about them.
Later, reflecting on our relationship, I went through how much Dad and I are alike. He’s much different from his father. I had a great relationship with that man, because my grandfather and I both liked building models. Grandpa has been gone fifty years. I still miss him.
Dad conveyed bad news. His younger brother was hospitalized Saturday night, and the brother’s son-in-law died suddenly of a heart attack while on a walk. Meanwhile, Dad’s sister, my aunt, celebrates her 91 birthday today.
Papi surprised me today by showing great delight in playing with a bright pink shoestring. I’d make the string wiggle and Papi would attack, nail it with a paw and then spin and race off. Returning a few seconds later, he’d get down into position for another go. This went on for ten minutes before he dashed away and out of the house.
Thinking about the flopped DC parade, The Neurons pushed forward a past song called “The Soft Parade”. “The Soft Parade” is by the Doors. I enjoyed listening to it but my friends found it strange. Well, yeah, that could be the Doors. My wife also disliked the song, telling me that she didn’t understand why I liked it. It’s another case of the old maxim, different strokes for different folks.
On to coffee, on to other things. On to Sunda. Cheers
Welcome to No Kings Saturda, June 14, 2025. It feels like the weather dieties summoned Autumn in Ashlandia. Sunny, it’s now up to 55 F. High today should be 79 F. See? Autumn numbers.
After heavy discussions last night, my wife and I are not attending the protests. This is about our health, unfortunately. Shit happens. For me, it’s a booming throbbing headache that began last night and seems ready to stake a homestead and stay longer.
Speaking of health, Dad is in the hospital in San Antonio with heart and kidney failure. I spoke to him and he said that he’s ‘not concerned’. Dad is never concerned, though. His wife told me she is very concerned. Dad said, “She’s always very concerned.” Nothing will be done for him this weekend and he’ll remain hospitalized. They are removing fluids and monitoring him. They’re meeting Monday afternoon at 2 PM to discuss next steps.
I haven’t heard much from Mom and my sisters this week. Is this one of those ‘no news is good news’ scenarios? They found a lump in her boyfriend’s lung under his left arm but aren’t doing anything about it as he’s 95.
Papi the butter butt is enjoying the faux fall. His energy level is the envy of the household. In and out, breaking into gallops, eating and asking for treats, coming by for some attention and affection, he’s a marvel of healthy energy.
All that aside, my mood is layered with concern for the nation and the world. Watching and reading to see what happens next. Flooding in San Antonio. Wildfires in Canada.
Read about the fake cop shooting and killing a Democratic lawmaker and their husband and injuring another Democrat lawmaker and spouse in Minnesota. Sickening. We don’t know the killer’s identity or motivation but my mind is slick with suspicions and suppositions. The man who shouted, “Fight, fight, fight,” last year, who activated the National Guard against peaceful protestors, who pardoned J6 insurrectionists who killed and injured police officers, who vowed, “If you spit, we hit,” unironically declared, “Such horrific violence will not be tolerated in the United States of America.” His words remain so empty.
National Guard are being called out ‘just in case’ as protests are planned around the country. Some are anti-ICE and anti-immigration policy protests but many more are long-planned No Kings demonstrations to protest Trump’s arrogant attitude. Our servant of the people contemptuously dismisses the people, the laws, the courts, and the Constitution. One of his proxies, Puppy Killer Noem, head of ‘Homeland Security’, displayed her contempt for the people (again) and a servant of the people as her personal security removed him from ‘her’ press conference.
Noem lied about what happened. Naturally the White House did as well. But video and witnesses showed the truth. I can’t reflect that this is how they lie and deny when it’s all out in the open; just think how much they lie about what’s going on in the shadows.
Beyond our borders, Ukraine and Russia’s war rages, despite Trump’s campaign insistence that he’d quickly have a cease fire in place. Russia has claimed 1,000,000 of their soldiers have been killed in Ukraine. I’m mourning that senseless waste of life but remained infuriated that Putin started that war for no reasons beyond greed, power, and ego.
Meanwhile, Israel launched a ‘pre-emptive’ strike against Iran. Iran retaliated and will probably try to do more. Fires have broken out at the South Pars gas field in Iran’s southern Bushehr province after Israel’s attack, which won’t do anyone any good. Trump quickly cheered the Israeli attacks after urging them to show restraint days before
How ’bout some Justin Timberlake today? The Neurons have ordered up “Can’t Stop the Feeling!” for the morning mental music stream. Good beat, poppy, happy lyrics. Just let it flow. Sing and dance. Relax. Just for a few minutes.
Coffee has been sucked down. Time to try to do something.
And happy Flag Day. Cheers
I had two dental appointments yesterday. The first was scheduled for 10:00 AM in Ashland. A second required me in Medford, up Interstate 5, at 2:10 PM.
The first dentist is about a mile from my house. A road closure caused some initial issues. They’d closed Tolman, my usual route, to re-oil the chipseal. Like, thanks for the notice, city! It’s something we’ve consistently encountered in Ashlandia in recent years: they close roads for work with little warning and just expect you to find your own work-around.
I disliked that start. This appointment was for a new bridge. The one installed back in ’07 — yes, this century, smart ass — had finally given up the clue. I sneezed it out one day last fall, chipping it. I was recovering from ankle surgery and decided I’d deal with one issue at a time. Then, finding a dentist, making appointments, and here I was, having it done in June.
Went pretty well except the AI on their bridge design software decided to take some time off. The bridge was scheduled to be done by 12 PM. I left the chair at 11:15, went home, and came back at noon only to be told about the issues. It’d be at least another 35 minutes. I left for home again. Each time that I went home, BTW, I’d go in and show my wife my incomplete work and ask, “What do you think of my new smile?” Returning at 1 PM, the bridge was ready. Fifteen minutes later and $3900, it was done. On to Medford for my oral surgery consultation.
I arrived at my Medford appointment at 1:45; they saw me at 2:30. “Sorry for the wait.” Yeah, thanks, I had nothing else to do! I’d spent the time reading “The Sentence” by Louise Erdrich. Once in the chair, I went through the usual medical history stuff and had the 360 digital scan of my mouth done. I was there to plan to have oral surgery to install three implants.
One implant was for an occlusion above it. They felt the tooth needed to be extracted and replaced. I agreed. The other two teeth had left on their own last November and December. They were side by side on the upper right side of my smile.
That plan went a little awry. “You have an abscess up here,” Mike Doherty told me. He was the grinning, energetic guy who was going to do this part of my dental work. “It’s 8 millimeters wide. Something of that size, we recommend a biopsy.”
Of course I’ll have the biopsy done. Gotta be safe about these things.
“Also,” Mike said, “because of the abscess’s size and location, we’ll need to do a bone graft first. Once it’s healed, in four to six months, we’ll do the implant for that tooth. In the meantime, it’ll be an empty space, just as it is now. But we can go ahead and do the other two now.”
So, okay. It’s scheduled for week from tomorrow. The process was quoted at $7,000. Which was depressing. The first car I bought was a 1968 Chevy Camaro with a 328 V-8. Paid $1995 for it in 1975.
Wish I had that car now.
An elderly woman asked for my help at the coffee shop yesterday. She’s another coffee shop regular. I’ve seen her here for several years. By observing and eavesdropping, I knew where she lived, what she drove, her previous occupation, her standard order, and her name.
She’s named Sandy. As I helped her, she said, “I was an elementary school teacher.”
I replied, “What a coincidence! I used to go to elementary school.”
She laughed.
I’m thinking of Sandy today because I’m reflecting on Mom. Mom is 89; Sandy is 82. I’ve witnessed Mom’s decline over the past decade. I’ve seen Sandy declining over the past two years. She used to have no problem walking. Always a diminutive person, she seems smaller, thinner, and weaker, and struggles to stand, sit, and walk. Terrible to see.
It affects me because I’m also seeing such a decline happening in my wife. It’s surreal because I’ve had many more medical emergencies and don’t attend to my health as my wife does. I generally bounce back from whatever I endured. Yes, my bounce is not as high these days, and it takes more bounces to get back to close to what I was. My wife, though, is slowing and weakening. She often loses her balance. Her diet and activities are becoming so limited.
All of this reminds me of how impermanent things are. This is true of products, societies, our bodies, our existence. Ground Penetrating Radar finds forgotten settlements. We come across photographs of relatives we never knew about. Genetics and genealogy can fill in blanks about who your ancestors were but it’s typically in broad terms. Names, places, occupations, mostly.
It all finally roosts in me as a reminder to not take things for granted, whether it’s success, health, family, or your government. Nothing really lasts forever. Worse, the ending can come without much warning. As in so many other matters, it’s something which I learned before, and then forgot.
Sunshine beams down on us from a blue vault in Ashlandia. Already 72 F, we’ll kiss 81 F, it’s said. Lovely weather for Twosda, May 6, 2025.
I feel like I’m juggling a bobillion things today. I can’t define a bobillion except to say that it’s a number that keeps my mind whirling in different directions. Many are random minute modern matters. Then again, isn’t that the norm these days? Sure seems like it. We’ve gone from working the land to working in the office to working the phone and computer at home. Nothing to do but pursue and complete it all. Prioritize as necessary. Keep in mind is most of it is small stuff that fuels bureaucracies. But bureaucracies are the current engines that move things forward. I would now usually go on and point out that the Trusk Regime is busy tearing down bureaucracies, pointing to how much he and his Trumpnies (Trump cronies) want us to go backwards. But that point has been beaten into thin batter. If you don’t get it by now, you probably won’t until you’re personally affect and distraught at the results.
Today’s morning mental music stream is occupied by Journey. Journey had a strong presence on the rock scene in the mid-1970s to early 1980s. Today’s song is “Don’t Stop Believin'”. Released in 1981, the song became a top 10 hit in many nations. Arriving to Okinawa for military duty, I heard it often on AFN Radio and playing on jukeboxes.
Hope your day is strong and hopeful, and feeds and supports your need to keep believing. Coffee has been served. Here we go again, one more day in the United States. Cheers
A cold night surrendered to blue skies and warming sunshine. It’s 62 F now. The sun is promoting a high of 76 F. It’s said that we’ll see 81 F tomorrow. This is Munda, May 5, 2025 in Ashlandia. This is spring in Ashlandia.
Our trip last week gifted us a few things. One, my sciatica kicked in on Saturday. Too much time in a car seat. I’ve been dealing with it off and on since I was 20. I can usually feel it developing and head it off with stretching exercises. My early warning system failed me this time. I didn’t medicate but my wife suggested a Salon Pas. I slapped that thing on. I couldn’t believe the ensuing burning. I was in a recliner watching telly. The heat grew so intense, I pulled the patch off. On a whim, I popped it on my belly.
Well, call me Steve if I wasn’t surprised by the results. I suffer belly bloat. That Salon Pas patch remarkably reduced it. So I did it again yesterday. Same result. I was truly astonished and impressed and put another one on today. Only drawback from the patch at this point is hair. Yes, I’m a hairy boi. Getting that patch off required scissors and delicacy. The end result was a belly Brazil.
That’s my side. My wife could hardly get out of a chair on Friday night. She’d been complaining about pain and using different methods to address inflamation and pain. Epsom paths. Salon Pas. Valtaren. Red light therapy. Bed rest. Diet. But her weakness scared me. She’s better today but related that when we were on vacation, she worried about getting out of the bathtub. Fortunately, handles were available. Here an home, she reported a similar problem.
Her problems dig into my psyche as my sister peppers me with updates on Mom. “Mom is really debilitated. She’s confused about dates and other things.” Mom went and stayed with sis. “Mom said that she had to pee. Then she stood and began peeing. I went to help her, asking her what she needs. Mom said, I’m going to fall. I dropped everything and rushed over and caught her, keeping her from falling.” There are good answers about what to do but none are simple. Guilt spreads through me because I seem to recover. My sciatica did a quick and silent goodbye while Mom and my wife both endure. I can do little for either.
Politics again inspired The Neurons for today’s music. A conversation with my wife was the catalyst. She was reading about Conservatives complaining that the root of all of today’s problems in the USA is letting white women go to college and having the right to vote. Apparently, all those women going to college are getting liberal arts degrees and daring to think, and college screws up their thinking.
Like, WTF, seriously? Do those men really believe that? Pretty damn galling to that these people, these obviously sexist and biased shallow thinkers, think they have the right to deprive others of rights.
Included in the responses was a woman being interviewed. She said she could never vote for a woman to be POTUS. Because of hormones. What? Yes, because of hormones. If they’re going through menopause, their mood will change and they’ll go off and start a war.
The male interviewer responded, “But haven’t all the wars been started by men so far?”
The woman went wide eye and still. The video ended.
Talking about this thread of crazo thinking, we remarked, so many people underestimate others’ contributions. Maybe they learn and forget.
And that encouraged The Neurons to begin The Who and “Eminence Front” in the morning mental music stream.
Drinks flow
People forget
That big wheel spins, the hair thins
People forget
Forget they’re hiding
The news slows
People forget
Their shares crash, hopes are dashed
People forget
Forget they’re hiding
h/t to Americansongwriter.com
Off to drink more coffee and employ my neurons in some writing. Hope your energy is up and pulls you safely through another day. Here’s the music. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 