It’s a foggy Yachats morning. Inspired by cool ocean air, the temperature is hovering at a cozy 59 F. The land is expected to slip out of the fog at about 11 AM and jump to 65 F. Meanwhile, I’m happily wandering around in a fog.
Lively post dinner conversation last night revolved around Trump’s arrogance, lies, and continual power grab. How will it all ultimately unfold? There’s hope that the people will rise up. There’s worry that Trump will shrug that off, and, braced with the Roberts Court’s stance and GOP governors providing national guard troops to subdue We the People and our rights.
We were also introduced to a game called Mexican Train which involves dominoes. I was pretty damn leery of playing but it was fun and addictive. I look forward to playing more. We also walked for miles, with me accumulating ten miles.
Today’s music arrived via last night’s sunset. Of course. Waiting for it to arrive, my group started singing snippets of songs about sunset. The Neurons jumped into the routine and, lo, here I am this morning, with Gordon Lightfoot singing “Sundown” in the morning mental music stream.
Coffee has arrived in my body and The Neurons are doing the coffee dance. May grace and peace find and keep you. Cheers
Lousy photo from a lousy phone from our third-floor balcony.
Good morning from the Oregon coastal town of Florence. It’s just an overnight stop for us. We’re moving on to Yachats today.
It’s Munda, August 18, 2025. We’re sitting at sunny and 58 F with aspirations for the mid 60s. It’s 8 AM now. An hour ago, four people and ten dogs were on the beach Now, one lone walker marches alongside the rambunctious waves. Breakfast is first on our agenda. No sooner had we finished dinner last night when my wife pulled out the hotel’s breakfast menu and asked “What’s calling you for breakfast.” I find that what are we going to eat, where are we going to eat, and when are we going to eat, are often topics while on vacation. After eating, it’s to the beach for a walk, Old Town for shopping, and then we point the car north for the main vacation piece.
Seeing fishing boats out on the water, The Neurons were weakly inspired to put forth songs about sailing. While a number of song snippets rotated through the morning mental music stream, “Come Sail Away” by Styx won. I think it was by pure volume.
Coffee is sailing through my body. Hope fair winds bring you peace and grace today and every day. Cheers
I took on an easy DIY project yesterday. This was a new foyer light.
The new foyer light.
This was my wife’s idea. I thought the old one was fine. We’d installed it shortly after moving in back in 2005. It worked, putting out light and everything. Click on, click off.
My wife said, “We need to update our lights. It’ll make the house look newer.”
Sure, I thought with a mental shrug. I had no reason to buy a new light but had no real reason to oppose buying a new light. They don’t cost much, and the old one will be donated to Habitats for Humanity and re-used.
We went on a light search together, an outing I found tedious and boring. I found this light and offered it as a possibility. “Let me think about it,” she answered, walking away. A little while later found her back at the light. We discussed its pros and cons.
“It’s black,” I said. “With seeded glass.” She’d specified those things. That’s what attracted me to it. I’m a hunter; she established those parameters and that’s what I sought.
“It’s flush mounted,” she said. “Can you install it?”
“Yes.” I was surprised she asked. I’m a budgeteer DIY. There’s little that I don’t think I can do, given time, tools, and video instructions. But the reality is, I’ve installed over a dozen ceiling lights in my life. The first was in Germany, where I shocked myself in an episode which will only die in memory when I pass away. I’ve been a lot more respectful of electricity after that.
So, she was out yesterday — Girl’s Night at the Movies, done at 1 PM because none of them want to drive at night. The feature was Earth Girls Are Easy. With her out, I pursued the new install. Half an hour, I figured.
I’m such a stupid optimist.
After turning off the power to the light (see, lesson learned), I pulled out the ladder and removed the old light with relative ease. So far, so good. But I needed to remove the installation plate as well; the new light and old plate did not match up. No big thing, right? Just two screws.
Here’s where WTF entered the project.
I could not get one screw to turn. At friggin’ all. Different screwdrivers were tried. WTF, over? I mean, I screwed it in. I should be able to screw it back out.
By now, my body was running with enough sweat to fill a bathtub. Repositioning the ladder a few times, I positioned myself to apply max torque. I realized that part of my issue was that the mounting plate was not perfectly aligned with the screw, and that extra pressure was hampering my efforts. So, I wedged that thing around just a little. With the slowness of a MAGAt realizing that Trump lied to them, the screw finally began turning. Of course, it’s a two-inch long screw, a bolt, really. I finally got it out, though.
The rest was as easy as eating pizza. I was just finishing as my wife arrived home.
“How’d it go?” she asked.
“No sweat,” I answered.
We agreed, it looks better than the old one. The photo doesn’t do it justice. It’s a lousy camera phone’s lousy photo. But the change was startling. The other light hung down about half a foot more, so it had more of a ‘presence’. The change to this light opened up the space.
I told her all that. She agreed.
“Now we just have to do the breakfast bar and dining room chandelier,” she said.
I’d installed them. Sure, that was twenty years ago, but I nodded.
And just like that, kits and kittens, it’s Frida again. Today is August 15, 2025. A cool one in Ashlandia, the mercury’s digital movement is pointing at the low 70s at the mo, but has plans to travel on to the mid 80s. Topping it with strong but not overly potent sunshine and blue skies o’er the mountains, and a recipe for a pleasant summer day has been found.
Several dreams are remembered from last night’s delivery. Talking to myself — because I was the only one there, having been abandoned by the cat (who ate and left without a sound) and the wife (who was off to exercise class) — I said, “I had too much to dream last night.” Then I laughed. But the laugh was on me as The Neurons supplied the morning mental music stream with the 1960s era Electric Prunes psychedelic song, “I Had Too Much to Dream Last Night”. Some friend of sis owned the record, so I heard it. The take on the title amused young me but I was more intrigued by the group’s strange name. It inspired me to imagine other possible names, such as the Gas Apples and Cherry Wash. Neither of those names ever caught on with a group, so far as I know.
I noticed some good news for Trump today. With economic data piling up showing prices are rising, polls are showing that Trump’s disapproval is also rising. Many more disapprove of Trump’s performance as he took over D.C.’s police force, sending in Federal law enforcement personnel. They’re a waste there, and people outside of Trump and his band of nattering nabobs knew it. They don’t like it. This is all good news for Trump, as it takes We the People’s mind off of Trump’s relationship with Jeffrey Epstein. The climbing disapproval ratings for Trump means that less people are vocally showering him with reminders that he promised to release the Epstein Files and the Epstein List, and that he’s broken that promise. The rising PPI, Producer Price Index, which shows the cost of making things jumping by 9 percent in July, is good news for Trump because it takes him off the hook for releasing the Epstein Files and revealing how much he’s implicated in some of the crimes that the convicted dead sex offender did.
Jeffrey Epstein with Donald Trump
For the record, my web page scramble this morning has a side serving of a USA Today story:
The article reports that the Pew Research Center’s survey has Trump at a new high in disapproval: 60%. Of course, all eyes are on Russia, I mean, Alaska — sorry, but Trump kept saying that he was going to Russia when his trip was planned to Alaska, so it’s just stuck in my brain — where Trump is meeting with Putin to discuss Ukraine. Trump thinks he’s all that and more now, since U.S. Republicans let him push them around. I don’t think Putin is quite the pushover. But Putin knows Trump and will let TACO crow and lie about getting a victory without getting a damn thing.
Coffee is flooding The Neurons, and they’re eagerly awakening. Time to rock another day. May grace and peace flow over your day’s endeavors. Cheers
Are you ready for another one? Today is Twosda, August 12, 2025. Today’s expected to be cooler today than yesterday. 101 F will be the high, up 28 degrees from our current residence of 73 F. Skies so blue arc over the hot land as a growling sun lifts over the horizon and bears down on us.
I read of a shooting in Austin, Texas. A person shoot and killed three in a Target store. Surely Trump is sending Federal troops to Austin, and maybe even all Target stores. After all, he deployed troops to take over D.C.’s police force over a mugging.
Trump probably wants to send troops to Arkansas, too, where a couple were murdered while hiking. Little Rock, Arkansas, has had a sharp increase in homicides this year.
Yeah, but we know that Trump’s motives when sending troops to any city isn’t about law and order. He proved that when he encouraged rioters to descend on the U.S. capitol on that infamous day, Jan 6. Trump did nothing while his beautiful supporters broke into government buildings, shit on Federal property, damaged it, and assaulted police. Then he pardoned his beautiful thugs, which should have marked ‘false’ all claims to him being a law and order dude. That, plus his energetic pursuit of disappearing people without due process, establishing a DOJ in the process that actively avoids judge’s valid and legal order, shows he’s far removed from being interested in law and order. My cat is more law and order than PINO Trump. That’s why he sent troops to a blue city enjoying a 30-year low in violent crime, over a mugging.
No, Trump’s troops to D.C., just as his troops to LA, are all about exercising strong arm tactics. This is what dictators and wannabe dictators do. And TACO is a wannabe dictator. He’s said that over and over in actions which shouted his intentions. Such people ignore the law, decreeing themselves to be the law. That’s just another reason why the Offal Office mango needs to be impeached and fired.
Today’s music was suggested by The Neurons after reading about Bobby Whitlock’s death. Whitlock, a musician with Delaney & Bonnie and Friends, left that group, along with a few other of the band’s musician. Hearing that, Clapton approached them to form a group together. Thus came to the world Derek and the Dominos. Out of that union, coupled with friendship with an Allman brother, came a song which always entrances me: “Layla”. So here we go.
Coffee has assumed the position. Time to go rock the world. Hope that your day has peace and grace. Cheers
Ready or not, here it is. Sunda, August 10, 2025 has arrived in Ashlandia without much fanfare. It’s brining the heat, though. While it’s 83 F here now and feels like 91 — or wait. My system says it’s 71 F. Clark’s system stakes it as 76 F. So, while it’s somewhere between 71 F and 83 F now, it’ll reach between 100 and 103 F, depending on who you believe. A few miles up the road by SUV in Medford, they’re looking at 108 to 110 F.
Last night was starry, moonlit gorgeous. Papi and I were out there observing the night. Then along came a skunk. I never saw nor heard the skunk. It didn’t directly bomb us, but its carpet bombing wove over us and chased me back into the house. All the doors and windows were closed to save us from the smell but that meant we couldn’t receive cool air to store for the day. Wasn’t until after five AM until that smell was gone enough for cooling services to be resumed. Despite all that, I slept fantastic, enjoying many uplifting, optimistic dreams.
My wife and I were laughing at a Trump Regime press statement. The headline and first paragraph tells the story: FDA regulator reinstalled less than two weeks after White House ouster.
A top Food and Drug Administration official is getting his job back, a spokesman for health agencies said Saturday, less than two weeks after he was ousted at the direction of the White House.
Vinay Prasad will return as the top regulator overseeing vaccines and complex treatments for difficult diseases, a position he lost following a right-wing pressure campaign.
Then comes a summary of the HHS press statement.
“At the FDA’s request, Dr. Vinay Prasad is resuming leadership of the Center for Biologics Evaluation and Research,” said Department of Health and Human Services spokesperson Andrew Nixon in a statement. “Neither the White House nor HHS will allow the fake news media to distract from the critical work the FDA is carrying out under the Trump administration.”
Don’t they sound like a school child? Like they’re blaming the media for something wholly of their own creation. Like it’s the ‘fake news media’, a favorite fictional monster under the bed for them, that had this guy fired and reinstated.
Today’s music was Papi-inspired. As I went through the morning feeding rituals, thinking about what I do to make and keep the ginger floof happy, Der Neurons fired up The Smithereens with “A Girl Like You” from 1989. As it played, I changed ‘girl’ to ‘cat’. “I’ll say anything you want to hear, I’ll see everything through, I’ll do anything I have to do, just to win the love of a cat like you.” Papi was moved. I could tell.
BTW, The Smithereens are named after the expression, “I’ll blow you to smithereens,” a phrase familiar to anyone who watched Yosemite Sam on weekend cartoons in the U.S. You don’t hear many use that word but I can imagine Donald J warning another country, “You do what I want or I’ll blow you to smithereens.” He is that cartoonish.
In another BTW, the only other time that this song was my theme song, it was also Papi inspired. Here’s what I wrote back in 2020.
Yeah, do that a lot, sing to the cats. I was singing “A Cat Like You,” which is based on the Smithereens’ 1989 song, “A Girl Like You”.
I’d been talking to the ginger blade, which prompted the singing. I was telling him at the time, “You’re a unique cat.” Which he is, standoffish and sweet, wanting to be closer, unsure how to do it, galloping everywhere with a fanfare of trumpets (or some it seems from his posture).
Then, though, I thought, they’ve all been unique. Some were unique in ways that made you laugh, others had unique properties that made them lovable and sweet, and there were a few with exasperating uniqueness, tetchy and frustrating. A few packaged it all.
So, to the cats, and cats like them, always unique.
Coffee is in me. Ready to rock another day. I hope peace and grace finds it way to you today and everyday. Cheers
Last night was beautifully clear and cool.The temperature dropped into the 50s. We were rewarded with a coolly comfortable house in the morning, third day in a row. I credit the skunks for some of that. We usually open our windows at night, and our doors for a few evening hours, to naturally cool the house. Skunks, though, were getting busy at eleven at night, releasing their odor and forcing us to shut the windows. The skunks have taken an August recess. Hope they’re not ending it soon.
Today is Satyrda, August 9, 2025. It’s 75 F now, feels 85 F, and is going to reach 91. Tomorrow, we stalk the century zone again. I think about how pleased I am that I used the cool stretch to get outside work accomplished. The flip of that is, while I was doing that work, I discovered — or sometimes, re-discovered — other work to be done at there. I’m bristling about it a little now because today and tomorrow are swamped with calls for other activities, like a memorial service for a friend. There’s too many of those things going on.
We’re going on vacay, too. Detailed planning plagues the days leading up to our planned departure. Food is the subject. We’re sharing a house with two other couples. Those four are a decade plus older than us. We all live under food restrictions. No this and that. I now have my own list. They all want to cook in the rented home. That’s apparently part of their vacation ethos: “Let’s go away and cook.”
Each couple is to provide dinner one night. We’re on our own for breakfast and lunch. My wife and I have a surprise dessert planned, a vegan fondue smorgasbord.
As I sat reading news and sipping my coffee, my wife said from her part of the office, “We don’t need to worry about him. He’s golfing today.”
“Not true,” I answered. “Thanks to modern technology, he can text something or call someone and launch a new round of craziness.”
Although we never said his name, we’re talking about the human wrecking ball named Trump, who is also known as TACO. My wife and I share some laughs over FAFO stories, like the Trump Burger guy who ICE picked up and plans to deport, Roland Mehrez Beainy. Beainy responds to the claims against him, “Ninety percent of the shit they’re saying is not true.” Well, that’s probaby so. This is the TACO regime. They’re addicted to lying, just their leader, TACO himself.
Shifting tones, my wife and I are angry about reports of how big tech is helping the TACO Regime. Apple’s investments, and Tim Cook’s gold offering to Trump sicken us. Amazon Web Services gave Trump a billion dollar discount. Gag, groan. Google slashed cloud services for the TACO Regime. OpenAI is giving Trump’s agencies access for $1 per year. Ordinarily, I’d think, look how great this is, with these companies helping the United States. But they’re not helping the U.S. Nothing Trump does helps the U.S. It’s all about him. And these companies are bribing him to stay on his good side.
Today’s music is “Pride and Joy”. This is a 1983 rock blues offering by Stevie Ray Vaughn and Double Trouble. My wife and I are both fans of SRV & DT, and we enjoy this song. But I don’t understand any segue that leads from what I dreamed, thought, or observed that led The Neurons to pull this one out and slot it into the morning mental music stream. It’s just one of those brain things, I guess.
Coffee has been sucked up. Its off to the races. Hope grace and peace finds and keeps you. Cheers
A hotter day is on hand for Ashlandia today but it’s not insurmountable. Thirstda, August 7, 2025, came in at 62 F and will climb the thermometer until the upper 80s are engaged. Skywise, it’s mostly blue with some curious cumulo type clouds peeking in to see what’s up.
Mom’s addition to her Penn Hills home in Pennsylvania is progressing fast. This will be her new bedroom. Located right off the short hall between the main floor bathroom and the kitchen, with easy access to the living room, this will ease matters for her. My brother-in-law, who specializes in plumbing but has been in construction all of his adult life, is doing the work and managing the site. Ever-reliable sis is managing the project. Completion by August’s finish is feasible. The latest hang up is about the ramp. ADA guidelines end up dictacting a 24 foot long ramp. That’s another five grand, and Mom’s BF, Frank, is against it.
Dad’s in the hospital again. Same matters as before. Feels like he’s doing a slow drain circle. I’ve been through this with other people, in and out of the hospital with declining health and worsening prognosis until it’s finally decided to move them to hospice. Don’t mean to sound blase about it but this is modern U.S. life, it feels like. I imagine that my end will be something similar.
Meanwhile, I’m mourning the passing of a cousin’s husband. I never met him. Haven’t seen her, the cousin, in over forty years. But I know her and love her as family, and always enjoyed her company. And that’s the way that works now, for me. Others might shrug and say, well, I don’t really know her any more and I’ve never seen her, but that’s just not my take.
Over in MAGALand, it’s Trump tariffs, cancelation of renewable energy projects, etc. As Krugman put it when addressing the last jobs report, the hard data will catch up with the soft data. The soft data amounts to anecdotes about rising prices, people being laid off, shortages, etc. A few months later, and the hard data comes, showing the tangible impact of all those decisions, such as tariffs. The same thing will happen with the cancellation of renewable energy projects. First it will show up as lost jobs. Then it will come in revealed as rising energy prices and rolling brownouts or blackouts because demand outpaces supply. But this is the GOP way in the 2020s, to blindly shortchange everything and anything. They ‘don’t believe’ in the climate change evidence, and they think wind and solar energy is inefficient, expensive, and ‘dangerous’. Trump, of course, has all manner of deranged ideas about wind energy causing cancer. But he’s their leader so they eagerly rush down his loony path.
That brings me to today’s music. Thinking about economic developments, trade wars, declining tourism, and the attack on the education system joined a nexus of thinking about my health, Mom’s health, Dad’s health and their declines. Out of that morass, The Neurons cleverly called up The Fixx with their 1983 song, “One Thing Leads to Another”. That’s the way of living, isn’t it? One thing happening eventually leads to another. On the scientific side of things, I used to enjoy a show hosted by James Burke called Connections. Burke was always tracing discoveries and inventions and how they impacted other discoveries and inventions in unanticipated ways. It was a delightful way to experience learning about history and science, and often, economics and religion.
Dropped my car off for routine maintenance this morning. I left it on a Christian radio station for the mechanics. The driver taking me back home is named Mika. From the Bible.
Coffee has plowed into me again. Here we go on another day. May peace and grace find and hold you. Cheers
Very cool morning and not hurrying to warm up. This is a cloud’s influence, a cloud offering gray dimples and wavy white lines but otherwise lords the sky from east to west and the other way too. We’re offering 67 F with an 87 F high in the works. Although you can’t tell from this weather, it’s summer, August 6, 2025. More like sumfall. It is also Wenzda. Hump day. Mid week.
Trump is still being chased by the Epstein Files. That’s no good for other countries. Tariff Man has donned his towel and tied it around his neck so he can pretend it’s a cape. Now he’s zapping other countries with tariffs. Zap, 50% on India. Kapowie, 39% on Switzerland. Boom, 250% on pharmas. Maybe. Depends on how well it deflects attention from Epstein. Right now, tariffs are sucking oxygen.
Epstein is still out there, though. “Will no one rid me of this plague?” Trump cries out in his thin, reedy voice.
“Sorry, my lord,” he’s already dead,” Bondi replies. “We would if we could, believe me.”
Scowling, Trump sucks on a can of Mexican Coke. A smirking glare wins his expression. “Increase Canada’s tariffs. That’ll teach them.”
In case you forgot, here’s a picture of BFFs, Epstein and Trump.
This is one of my favorite Kinks songs. Admittedly, I have several. I enjoy this one’s opening lyrics. “Hello, you. Hello, me. Hello people we used to be. Isn’t it strange, we never change. We’ve been through it all yet we’re still the same.” I’m not sure what personal reflections I was working on at the time. summI was in the kitchen, doing the standard AM kitchen tasks. The Neurons picked up on my thoughts and into the morning mental music stream came Ray and Dave and the band with “A Rock ‘n’ Roll Fanasy” out of 1978.
A drip of coffee has turned into a sip which became a gulp. Time to jump out there. Hope peace and grace visits you and stays a while. Cheers
I heard something hit the house last night. ‘Bout midnight. Turned out to be Twosda, August 5, 2025, staggering into the siding. Cool night, and mostly clear, offering views of a waxing moon and a spill of stars. We’re relaxing in 76 F air with a cloud-stained coating of sun-filled blue sky. 86 F wil be the thermometer’s top mark for Ashlandia.
Democratic governors are pleasing me these days. First, a shut out to those Texan Dems who left the state to prevent the Trump-Abbott collusion to destroy democracy in Texas and the United States. Second, huzzah to the Dem governors who took them in, and the Dem govs standing up to the GOP bullshit. California Gov. Newsome and Democratic New York Gov. Kathy Hochul are vowing to redistrict to counter Abbott’s moves in Texas. Frankly, I think such forceful action is needed. Meanwhile, Robert Hubbell published encouraging news in More signs of life among Senate Democrats.
Hearing of the Trump Regime’s eager use of space stuff to try to distract from the Epstein list, The Neurons loaded a song about the moon in the morning mental music stream. “Walking on the Moon” is a 1979 raggae rock offering by The Police. Sting wrote the song, mentioning being drunk as inspiration and also an early love. The Neurons entertained me with visuals of Trump waddling around the moon. The Neurons thought that Trump would trip and start uncontrollabling bouncing across the moon’s surface.
I’ve had a wink of coffee. Think I’ll have forty more. Hope grace and peace has its way with you today. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 