I was in the coffee house, deep into writing, when a casual coffee shop acquaintance stopped and said hello. Now a choir direction, he’d spent most of his life as a master mechanic. Cars somehow became the topic.
I mentioned that I was a sporting car kind of person. Car ownership was about BMWs, a Porsche, Mazda RX-7, along with a Camaro and a Firebird.
His response pivoted me to remembering Dad’s cars. Dad mostly drove Corvettes, Mustangs, and Thunderbirds. Aging, he also began driving a pickup, and then a Cadillac. Both were so unlike him.
That’s just like me. Those car choices were ‘needs must’ decisions, exactly why I now drive a compact SUV.
After finishing the conversation, though, I realized that this was the first time since Dad died on the last day of 2025 that I remembered him without grief. Instead, there was fondness and a reflective smile.
Saturday came to Ashland dressed in the same weather that Friday wore. Coldish but clear, with sources reporting 36 to 46 degrees F in Ashland, with blue skies. We no longer have a stagnant air advisory and the high will be in the 50s.
As I watch the storm developing in the eastern U.S., I realize that I’ve taken on a new life as a tracker. My tracking life is an old life, but just freshly understood — tracking weather, prices, people’s health along with their moods and situations, and politics.
Sis reports what’s up with Mom, which is mostly moods and mental issues. The truth is, Mom’s issues made co-existing with her a struggle, no matter who it is. A sad trend, sure, but we’ve seen this happening for years. When her boyfriend, Frank, was alive, she complained about him, accusing the 95-year-old of being mean, cheating on her, and secretly plotting and planning unnamed things.
Mom’s prescriptions and credit cards are now the issue. Mom insists she doesn’t have a co-pay; she does until she maxes her deductible. Her credit card was blocked because Frank’s name was on it, too, and his family tried closing it. Sis reports daily rounds about the co-pay and credit cards. Mom is furious with sis because sis argues back and has the receipts, which shows what’s going on. Mom ends with telling sis that sis is being mean — just as Mom used to say about Frank.
As for politics…
Trump requires heavy tracking energy, as that meme shows. His logic defies logic, his history defies history, and his facts defy the truth. That shifts heavy lifting to those aware of these things — tracking them. We know the real story when he says that prescription drugs will be 1,000% (or more) lower or that he’s stopped hundreds of wars and saved millions of lives. We live the truth that the economy and the deficit are not rosy, as he declares.
The Davos show was interesting. According to some reports, he was expected to make an announcement about using 401(k)s to buy houses. But he never mentioned that, instead focusing on himself and disparaging the rest of the world, particularly our allies. Speaking in Switzerland, he said that we’d all be speaking German, if not for the United States, another testament to his vast wasteland of broken understanding.
So much of this places me in a waiting stage, waiting to see what happens with Mom, the economy, politics, the weather, and our life. I’d selected “Wind of Change” by the Scorpions as today’s theme music. It plays in my morning mental music stream, an homage to Francis Buchholz, the group’s bassist who recently died. Written in the USSR during perestroika, the song reflects the sense of change in the nation as realization arrived, the cold war is ending.
Look at the song’s lyrics:
The world is closing in, and did you ever think That we could be so close like brothers? The future’s in the air, I can feel it everywhere I’m blowing with the wind of change
Take me to the magic of the moment On a glory night Where the children of tomorrow dream away (dream away) In the wind of change
It’s about moods, expectations, and how they impact us. That’s why I think it perfect for today.
Stay warm, be safe, and keep tracking what matters to you. May the day bring you grace and peace. Cheers
I drove into a Trader Joe’s parking lot to park and shop. I was driving my old white BMW 2002, a car I haven’t owned since I left Germany in 1991. It made ‘dream sense’ because I was about the age I was when I owned the car.
The parking lot’s left side was completely empty, bewildering me — why wasn’t anyone parked there? A large sign, facing the wrong way, explained not to park on the left side. Oh.
I moved my car. An older couple, dressed in fancy clothes, was there. I told them as I walked away from my car, “It would help if the sign faced the entrance, you know? Is something going on here today?”
They didn’t answer me but I heard the man saw as I walked away, “He’ll find out.” The woman tittered.
The store was busy inside. I decided to put down my cloth shopping bags for a moment and put them on a chair back by the older couple. Inside, shopping, I decided that I would buy a few things and picked up a frozen dessert that attracted my eye. As I thought about buying a few more things, I remembered that I’d left my shopping bags on that chair and rushed back to get them.
The bags were gone. I searched all over, but they were definitely gone. Morose, I returned inside to buy the frozen dessert.
Going back, my car was parked elsewhere but I knew where. It was also not my white BMW, but my wife’s gray Ford Focus. I went to the car’s right side to get in. Then I stepped back out and looked again where it was parked. The car to the left was so close, that door — which should be the driver’s side door — couldn’t be opened. I thought, it’s a good thing that I don’t drive on that side. Yet, I knew, with some confused reflection, driving is done from the car’s left side, not the right.
I was driving at the point and discovered a passenger, a pregnant young woman reading a book. First, I noticed that the book had my name on the front, but, startled by her presence, I said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t notice you there.”
She replied, “I’m Gail. My daughter was with you when you were driving an SUV in a foreign land, a wild country. She wanted to visit you because she’s worried.”
Driving, I wondered and asked, “Is your daughter born yet?”
Gail answered, “No, but she’s due.”
I then turned left. The road ended and I was suddenly driving through a woods heavy with water puddles and thick, black mud. Gail said, “I want to get out here.”
“No,” I replied. “I don’t know what happened to the road but I’m turning around. I’ll take you back and let you out.”
I whipped the car around and was back on the road in a few seconds. Gail got out. I opened the hatchback to put a bicycle in because I knew it was mine. Then I wondered, why is my bike here?
I paced the room, waiting for word about my wife’s 2003 Ford Focus. The car was recently stopping on its own, unsafe and inconvenient.
I resisted thinking it was a battery at first. The car cranked up and fired without any issues but then died.
My wife didn’t think it was a battery. “It starts up. Nothing dims, and it doesn’t have that weak, sluggish sound when it starts.”
I agreed in principle. I checked the battery, confirming, no loose wires or cables, intact and clean. A date on the battery’s side, 05 20, surprised me.
Telling my spouse about it, I added, “I didn’t think the battery was that old.”
We reminisced about buying it. Delivering Food & Friends alone because the COVID pandemic was underway, her car died enroute. She called me to rescue her, which I gleefully did to escape the house.
I reminded her, recent ‘high-discharge’ batteries don’t show the same dying battery symptoms we grew up seeing. Then I recalled, it was cold when the car died on her a couple times this week. Cold affects how much energy batteries can deliver.
I decided, checking the battery was where to begin. An appointment at Les Schwab, a mile away, was made for 10 AM this morning.
I started the Focus without any issue; it died five seconds later. I started it again. Death came five seconds later.
Three times was a charm, but I worried about the car dying as I drove to the appointment.
The Les Schwab tech confirmed, bad battery. “One cell is completely dead,” he said.
That fit, to me. A couple hundred dollars later, we believe we have the problem solved.
Whether the problem is truly solved won’t be clear until the car has been driven normally a few times. I have high confidence it’s fixed, though.
Ashland continues a weather pattern of cold nights, warming days, blue skies, and air stagnation. Blue skies came, went, and returned yesterday. Like yesterday, today’s highs will register over 50.
I’m happy to report that Alexa, online, and my system closely agree that it’s cold this morning. Alexa calls it 31, my system tells me it’s 27 F, and Ashland’s temperature online says, 32. Rejoice!
It looks warmer out there, an illusion of golden sunshine on majestic but naked oak branches lit against sky blue. Stepping out, as Papi will tell you, is a different matter. He did his business and hurried back in to work through breakfast.
Mom and sis each report adjustments have been made, and acceptance of their new relationship is growing. Each still complains about the other but in gentler terms, with more compliments for one another sprinkled in. Hope remains alive that Mom living at sis’s house will eventually thrive.
Sis says they’re preparing for a big winter storm in Pittsburgh, up to twelves inches of snow. She stocked up on baked goods to prepare.
It’s always interesting how things change and stay the same. Weather is one, Mom and sis are another. Trump is a third.
Trump wants Greenland ‘for the United States’, threatening eight allies with tariffs. Global markets responded with fast drops based on worries about a trade war. Whether that impacted Trump’s thinking, he withdrew the tariff threats on those eight nations.
Nobody has received that check. Trump didn’t remember making that promise when people asked about it.
And, let’s not overlook the Trump phone. Promised in 2025, there were rumors of about 600,000 pre-orders. None have been reported as received or delivered.
I’ve heard whispers from some that maybe a tipping point was reached with Trump. I’m not sure that’s so and won’t let myself get optimistic about it.
Thinking about what they’d seen, The Neurons brought up Green Day and their song, “Waiting”.
Now, time to chug coffee and head out to the repair shop to deliver my wife’s vehicle and await their verdict. The car sometimes completely dies without warning. It’s over 20 years old but in good shape, so we have our fingers crossed that something quick and easy will be found. Taking a book with me, in case it’s a long wait.
I hope positive energy fills your day and good things come your way, today and every day. Cheers
Hammering echoes through the neighborhood with a roof repair cadence. My line of sight keeps me from identifying which house is under repair, leaving it a Wednesday morning mystery.
Ashland coasted into January 21, 2026, under a slate of rippled white clouds. Air stagnation still rules, and temperatures hang from 38 (my house and online) to 46 (Alexa) degrees F. Highs in the mid 50s are predicted.
I’m disappointed for myself for failing to see the northern lights the other night. I went out twice — ten PM and midnight — but remained out there only twenty minutes each time. I was hopeful, as it was a clear night, with abundant stars visible, but nothing appeared.
I also missed a green fireball going through the PNW sky. A dogwalker a half mile away from my place saw it just before 10 PM on Sunday. I cursed my timing when I read the reports as I’d been out with Papi just a little bit later. Someone photographed it in Beaverton and shared it.
Photo credit: Benjamin Z. January 2026
I like reminders that we’re just one planet in a big space, with things going on beyond our world. They gently pull me away from concerns about what’s going on in our world.
Trump and his behavior is one of those concerns. Complaining and combative in his speech at Davos yesterday, he’s assured the world that he won’t take Greenland by force.
But he wants Greenland and thinks it should be sold or given to United States. Trump said, “You can say yes and we’ll be very appreciative — or you can say no, and we will remember.”
“Calm down the hysteria,” Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent said Tuesday. “Take a deep breath.”
“America First” does not “mean America alone,” Bessent insisted at a Monday gathering in this Swiss mountain town, where he urged friends “to follow President Trump’s lead for global prosperity, peace and a restored international order.”
If Bessent’s comments are meant to reassure me as a U.S. citizen, they completely missed. Trump announced more tariffs last week against EU members who are NATO allies because another country won’t cede a territory to him. Those actions distinctly say, “America alone.”
I’ll keep watching, worrying about what Trump will do next. It could be in pursuit of Greenland, more actions in Venezuela, or ICE in Minnesota. This behavior doesn’t necessarily shout, “America first,” but it does too often bark, “Trump first.”
Closing, today’s theme music is a Midnight Oil song called “The Dead Heart”. This is simply to honor and remember the drummer, Rob Hirst, who recently passed away. I enjoyed his music and talents, including this song. Watch him drumming in this video. He was having fun, playing music and singing.
Wish you all peace, happiness, and good health as you take on the day. Best of luck, whatever happens. Cheers
“Groundhog Day” weather continues in Ashland. Air stagnation, temperatures between 35 (my system) and 46 F. Dry, with sunshine and blue skies, and highs bouncing between 50 and 60.
As repetitive weather patterns, worse is possible. Mom said the news warned it would be 15 below zero last night in Pittsburgh. I also saw snow down in northern Florida. It’s a topsy turvy weather year — so far!
Mom’s health and moods continue the topsy turvy motif. One day will deliver complaints about sis. Last night, she praised how sweet and thoughtful sis is. This reflects a greater pattern of pain, lucidity, and loopiness which we’ve noted. Mom’s pain and loopiness seem linked.
Mom said she took a long nap and felt so refreshed afterward. She vowed to take more nap, which I encourage, although not to the point that she’s sleeping all day and ends up awake all night. The napping sweet spot, shorter duration in the mid-afternoon is best, but I don’t think she can control that.
Another sister drove Mom to a doctor’s appointment. They decided to take her off blood thinners, hoping that’ll reduce Mom’s falls. I have my fingers crossed that they’re right.
Speaking of topsy-turvy — three times a charm — I think Trump’s message about Greenland has a topsy-turvy tone.
Trump’s Sunday message to Gahr Støre, released by the Norwegian government, read in part, “Considering your Country decided not to give me the Nobel Peace Prize for having stopped 8 Wars PLUS, I no longer feel an obligation to think purely of Peace.”
A nation – Norway – doesn’t give the Nobel Peace Prize. That’s decided by a committee, although they are in Norway, per Alfred Nobel’s will. That’s some topsy-turvy logic. To me, this is like saying that the United States didn’t give a foreign actor an Academy Award, so they’re not doing business with the United States any longer.
It’s not the United States which give Academy Awards, and Norway doesn’t give the Nobel Prizes.
The other way that Trump’s tone is topsy turvy is his response to failing to win the Nobel Peace Prize. Most people failing to achieve a goal, vow trying harder. Imagine a coach not winning the Superbowl, responding, “You didn’t give me the Lombardi Trophy for winning the Superbowl, so I’m going to work less hard.” Topsy turvy!
The Neurons spilled a 1972 song into the morning mental music stream. “Only Solitaire”, by Jethro Tull, is about performers — actors, musicians, politicians — pompously delivering their shows for us.
The Neurons flagged this song for these specific lyrics today:
Court-jesting, never-resting–he must be very cunning To assume an air of dignity And bless us all With his oratory prowess His lame-brained antics and his jumping in the air
And every night his act’s the same And so it must be all a game of chess he’s playing–
But you’re wrong, Steve. You see, it’s only solitaire
Reading about Trump today invited these lyrics into my thoughts. It’s the same story from him every night: me, me, me. I am misunderstood, unappreciated, unrecognized, and I give so much.
It’s not the attitude that We the People need. It does fit these topsy turvy times, though.
Hope your day is straightforward happy, joyous, and healthy. Perhaps a tincture of peace and grace will be thrown in. Let’s hope so. Cheers
Monday, January 19, 2026 has rolled into Ashland. 32 F at the house, Alexa and the net insist it’s 43. Stagnant air warnings remain, but the blue sky and sunshine offer hope for something better. Highs are expected to kiss 60 F, maybe inch over that.
Why then, am I down?
Something unidentified broke my sleep last night. Papi swears it wasn’t him. Nor do dreams seem like the cause. The three remembered dreams offer the typical blend of wonder, hope, and anxiety. Writing is going well. Maybe my hormones are causing something. Hormones can be sneaky, underhanded energy challenges.
I felt like Dad’s spirit visited me yesterday afternoon. Busy exercising, my mind was free. A sad thought that I couldn’t pick up the phone and call Dad passed through me. Then it was like Dad was suddenly there, grinning and laughing like he was fifty years younger, a startling few moments, to which I smiled.
Dad and I were both in the military for 20 years and enjoyed cars. We also enjoyed robust political discussions.
During my last conversation with him, he told me he disapproved of Trump’s policies and behavior. He also commented that his wife and her family were staunch Trump supporters. Living in Texas, he was surrounded by MAGA, and related that there was ‘no talking to them’. Those folks consistently maintained that Trump could do no wrong.
Frank, Mom’s significant other and Army veteran, scowled when talking about Trump. The man rarely cursed but when he did, it was often in conjunction with Trump.
I’m pleased both of them passed away and won’t need to endure watching Trump’s policies unfold.
The Neurons turned to Albert King and Stevie Ray Vaughn to help me climb out of this funk. “Born Under A Bad Sign” plays in the morning mental music stream. I wasn’t born under a bad sign but I feel like I woke up under one today. I’ll indulge in some blues music, sipping coffee, partake of some news and blog posts, and sort myself.
Hope your day starts under a good sign that things will go well for you, perhaps one with hints of peace and grace.
Despite not working for anyone since 2016, I had another work-related dream last night. This wasn’t from my last employment with IBM but was with one of the medical startups from earlier, shortly after retiring from the U.S. Air Force.
We were in a large, clean, bright room. The company’s engineering section, thirteen people, including their director, were at tables shoved together across the room. I, the lone marketing person, sat on the room’s other side, alone.
Wanting to be involved, I moved over there and asked for permission to sit in on their meeting. They were developing the product I would market, after all, and I was part of the team that collected input on the product’s design. The director and others said, “Sure,” so I sat at the edge, so I wouldn’t be intrusive.
Note that all of these people were known co-workers from real life from two different medical device startups.
Not feeling included, I left after a short period, returning to my space. But I had nothing to do; no assignments, no emails, no phone calls.
With no warning, children suddenly swarmed our workspace. I don’t know why they were there. Crossing back to the engineers, I discovered that they were gone, then spotted them leaving the building.
I followed them out. They were going up a dirt path into the mountains, past large boulders and pine trees. One said, “Look, there’s a huge bald eagle up there.” He pointed.
I nodded; I’d heard about the bird earlier and had seen it. I didn’t know what the engineers were doing. Seemed like it could’ve been some team-building exercise, so I left again.
Heading back down to our office, I realized that my boss was in Paris for a trade show. I’d not heard anything from her, which was unusual. Then I realized that she hadn’t included me in any of the show prep.
Deciding that I didn’t really have a job, I thought that I should probably look for new employment and began compiling a resignation letter in my mind as I walked.
