It’s cold and cloudy in Ashland this morning. Our temperature went to 34 F about 8 PM last night. It’s still there. Stagnant air rules us today, Wenzda, December 31, 2025. Tepid sunshine squirms in past the clouds. With this sun and air combination, we expect high temperatures in the low 40s today.
Dad passed this morning in San Antonio, Texas. He was comfortable, as far as we know, and passed in his sleep, 92 years old, a veteran of Korea and Vietnam.
I received a text from Dad’s wife about his state yesterday afternoon. She said that he was in the last stages. I thanked her and then wrote a few texts to tell others. Afterward, I left my home office. As I did, I basically told Dad, goodbye, good luck, thanks, and I love you.
When I entered the adjacent room, a huge swirl of Dad energy swept around me. I was alone. Suddenly the room felt brighter and warmer. I sincerely and honestly felt Dad was with me.
It lasted about fifteen seconds and then left. I wondered if Dad had died but there weren’t any messages telling me of his death. I just smiled and accepted. Maybe as mystical and out there as it seems, my father and I made another connection just to say hello and goodbye one more time.
The hard part of Dad’s passing is done — getting the news and telling others, then accepting it. I’ll think and grieve for years, embedding his memory and life into my pantheon of existence.
The Neurons are playing “Flowers” by Miley Cyrus in the morning mental music stream. They made an interesting choice. I don’t understand it any better than I understand some of the dreams I had last night. That’s life.
I hope peace and grace come by your place and give you a hug. May the days ahead be gentle with you. Cheers
Twozda in Ashlandia finds us cold. Blue sky is in firm command. Sunlight washes over the valley.
It feels like something is broken or disconnected in the weather systems. The temperature is unfolding from 30 F. Alexa and online sources say we’ll get to 61 F today. I don’t know that they can be trusted. My systems and three other local systems all noted 29 to 31 degrees F temperature. At the same time, Alexa and online sites claimed our temperature was 40 F.
This is the same thing we went through several weeks ago; what we observed and felt locally is not what the national systems reported. Back in those weeks, we were steeped in cold fog while the national systems were trying to tell us it was sunny with some clouds. You can see why I’m not sure if we’ll get a high of 61 degrees.
No news has come from the Mom or Dad fronts. I had a long conversation with Dad’s wife yesterday. She related that after the fact, they conjecture Dad may have had a stroke, a-fib, or both. He had no idea how he ended up on the floor. Dad is doing very little talking or eating since that day. Only soft foods are permitted, such as eggs, apple sauce, and oatmeal. Swallowing those challenges him.
His wife says that he responds to voices. Though his eyes are closed, he’ll turn his head toward the speaker. She’s not sure if he recognizes her voice.
She also related that a few days before his fall, she discovered Dad had plotted to move away. He told her that he’d been on the phone with his other son and resolved the transportation issues and had identified all of his needs.
His son confirmed, yes, he and Dad were speaking about this almost every day. My brother was just going along with it to humor Dad; he certainly wasn’t going to help Dad move away. His part was just to indulge Dad because Dad was energetic and into the planning.
The revelations made me smile. I recognized Dad in that. He likes being in charge, making decisions, leading the way. He does not like having others take care of him. Making those plans were his way to stop from being a burden and getting back to being in charge.
Today’s theme music comes from a mental melange. Dreams, thinking, and headlines are all poured into this. Part of that thinking comes from Dad’s predicament.
Overviewing what was going on in my head, The Neurons placed “Wake Up Everybody” by Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes in the morning mental music stream. It’s a song I probably haven’t heard in years. It’s also possible I subconsciously heard it going on in the background somewhere.
I first learned of this song from my Black friends and co-workers. It wasn’t featured on the radio stations that I normally had on. Released in 1975, when I was a young airman in the U.S.A.F., I thought Teddy Pendergrass’s vocals put beautiful and heartfelt power to the words.
The opening lyrics were what I heard today but there was a little verse which I think about as I considered the world’s news and politics. Here they are.
Lyrics (h/t to AZLyrics.com)
Wake up, everybody, no more sleeping in bed No more backward thinking, time for thinking ahead The world has changed so very much from what it used to be There’s so much hatred, war, and poverty, whoa, oh
The world won’t get no better If we just let it be The world won’t get no better We gotta change it, yeah, just you and me
It’s quite the song of hope. It seems like we had more songs like this back in the last century. Moreover, we seemed to be moving toward them. No, it wasn’t straightforward, level progress but it did seem measurable. This century feels and appears very different to me.
Coffee has been served. My hope continues that peace and grace come by to give us all a lift. I know I would appreciate it.
I looked out the window, and what did I see? Blue skies and sunshine looking down on me. No clouds nor fog! No snow but there is some frost. I did notice yesterday that our southern and northern mountains lack snow but the eastern mountains had snow. Snow there makes sense because the eastern mountains are higher.
It’s 27 at my house now, 29 at SOU’s weather station at the Farm, 30, according to Alexa, and 31 on the net’s weather report on MSN. We’re basically in accordance as elevations, mountain shadows, and the sun’s angle affect the temperature readings. They have forecast a high of 51 F for this late December day.
Yes, this is Sunda, December 28, 2025. Just three more sleeps and 2025 will bow out.
Dad’s end of life situation is worsening. I didn’t get an update yesterday but I understand how emotionally taxing that must be for his wife. She’s lived with him longer than me or my mother and is probably closer to him and knows him better. I will say that Dad and I have a lot of shared personality traits and easily move closer through conversations. As we were both in the Air Force for 20 years, he and I do seem to understand one another. His daughters, my sisters, either don’t speak to him because they’re angry and resentful, or only speak to him when they want something. He has another son, too, through his second marriage, and that son and I get along. He, too, only lived with Dad for about ten years.
Dad was active and gregarious all his life, flirting with women, charming everyone. He kept busy although he grew to enjoy sitting down and watching NBA basketball and college and NFL football. He was in the military 20 years, then worked as a grocery store assistant manager for about ten years before purchasing and running his own grocery store. Married twice, divorced twice, although he lived with another woman for ten years. He eventually moved to Texas and settled there, running a huge truck stop for twenty years, finally stepping down from that in his early eighties. That’s when he met and married his current wife. Back when Dad was in the military, he frequently had a second job, managing a club, bartending, or working in a store. He loved playing poker and he was highly skilled with a pool stick. He’s outlived his own father by almost thirty years.
On the other hand, Dad was never into arts, music, or dancing, admitting, “They’re not my thing.” He enjoyed a good steak and loved Italian and Chinese food but was never a foodie, and didn’t eat candy, sweets, or pastries.
Dad’s wife just texted me that she’s waiting for the nurse to arrive and will then send an update.
For Dad, I’m going with Van Halen and “Jump”. That’s because one of Dad’s usual, casual response was often, “Might as well.” That line is repeated through “Jump”, as in, “Might as well jump.” It’s an upbeat song, and he was pretty upbeat overall.
Hope peace and grace find you before the year’s end. Cheers
Greetings on Satyrda, December 27, 2025. They said it’d be cold and we’d have snow. No snow but it was 38 degrees F, sort of cold. Sunshine is leaking in around clouds stretching a flimsy chain across blue sky. A high somewhere in the 40s is anticipated.
My stepmother texted last night. Dad has taken a bad turn. He was found on the floor, communicative and awake but confused. That was Wednesday. His wife is talking to professionals about whether Dad should go into hospice. She is due to receive an update and then will text me to call her so I can learn the latest.
I sent Mom and Dad holiday cards and letters. My sister read Mom her card and letter from me; my stepmother read Dad his card and letter from me. Neither Mom nor Dad could open their cards on their own. Dad lives in Texas and Mom lives in Pennsylvania. The parallel path of their decline fascinates and depresses me.
Dad has been married to my stepmother for over thirty years. It’s his third marriage. As Dad’s health has declined, my stepmother’s children visit him and care for him, just as my sisters visited Mom’s boyfriend, Frank, and cared for him before he died. Life’s complexities and layers are rich and interesting.
Sis wrote that she hosted Christmas celebrations on Thursday and Friday. Half the family came on one day and the other half came the next door. She said that worked out much better than having the whole tribe there at the same time.
With dreams of homes and families and news of family percolating, it’s not surprising that The Neurons chose a song about houses for the morning mental music stream. Today, it’s “Our House” by Madness.
As I wrote this post, my wife told me of some factoids she just read. Back in 1950, the average starter home in the U.S. was less than 1,000 square feet with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small kitchen. Now the average starter home is considered 2500 square feet with walk in everything and vaulted ceilings and fireplaces, kitchen, dining room, and breakfast nook. And fewer people seem able to afford starter homes in 2025.
Then I went off to dress to go out to write. My wife and I talked about it, how, while waiting to call my stepmother for an update, I was planning to go write. I shrugged. “The beat goes on.” And that’s why we have a twofer theme music offering for today. The Neurons immediately supplanted “Our House” with Sonny and Cher singing “The Beat Goes On”.
Hope peace and grace come by to present you some comfort. I’m off to the writing races once again. Cheers
High winds imitated taxiing jets all night long. We awoke to quiet sunshine and a drying land. 42 F, we hit like 49 F before the weather flipped into falling temperatures and increasing precipitation. It rained hard for a while and dropped into the thirties. Now it’s in the thirties but clear under fading sunshine. This was Christmas, Thirstda, December 25, 2025.
We were out of the house before nine AM, hitting the road to buzz to the other side of town for a breakfast brunch. The time was dropped on me yesterday. “We’re going to be there at nine?” I was incredulous. Friends had invited us to their place but that seemed like a early holiday hour when gift exchanging and children weren’t involved. We made it, no problem.
They weren’t ready for us. The husband didn’t make an appearance for over thirty minutes. We know him well and understand the health issues which slowed him. Guest number five arrived about twenty minutes after hubby showed. Guest number six was a no-show. She later called to apologize but she was having memory issue and forgot.
No matter. I was stewing about hurrying to be there when others clearly were less prepared than me for the early hour. The food, however, was sensational. Ham steaks. Plant based sausages. Dutch baby. Mexican quiche. Bananas, oranges, raspberries and blueberries. Delicious food, and after all but one arrived, a fun time, despite the early hour.
The early hour did have me smiling in memory about my childhood. Back then, filled with Santa-inspired energy, we were up by five AM, eager to see what presents had arrived. It’s a sweet look back at memories of an innocent period. Well, innocent for me. Mom and Dad were busy adulting, managing children, money, and all the associated pressures and needed.
Our fifth guest was a stranger. A music student from the Czech Republic, Tereza is 23 years old, a keyboardist who is learning music history (which, yes, she finds boring and tedious) while also being taught about more instruments. Most fascinating is her growing mastery of the pipe organ. She travels to another town to play a pipe organ in a Presbyterian Church. She shared some video of her playing.
She also gamely responded to our inquisition about the small village where she grew up, her parents and life in the Czech Republic, and their Christmas holiday traditions. A catholic, she shared their story that baby Jesus brings gifts and puts them under the tree. Yes, I wanted to know, how does baby Jesus get around? She laughed and replied, “That was our question, too.”
Then, following Christmas traditions (not), we played a full game of Mexican Train. Mexican Train felt like some kind of inherent slur, so we sought other names for it as we sorted rules, cheered wins, and lamented losses. A different and fun way to spin away Christmas hours.
Meanwhile, my sisters and I and Mom and I shot texts and videos back and forth. It’s the latest new holiday tradition.
Today’s music is “Come As You Are” by Nirvana. The Neurons fired it up in the morning mental music stream when I rolled out of bed and began fumbling through showering, shaving, and dressing. I don’t mind get up ‘early’ but I dislike being forced to forego my leisurely morning routine. As I progressed through my routine at a faster pace, The Neurons teased, “Just go as you are.” Hence, the song’s presence in the MMMS.
Had a pleasant Christmas with my wife and friends. Barely any coffee consumed. I think peace and grace peeked in on us. Hope peace and grace dropped in on you, too, however briefly it might have been, whether this is a holiday you celebrate or just another day on the calendar. Cheers
A tight light gray sheet is pulled down over Ashland. Woven of clouds, rain, and fog, it reduces sunlight to graylight. As light rain sings, the temperature hangs at 38 F with a high of 38 F looming. This is Twozda, December 23, 2025.
Thinking of Mom, life, and politics led me into paths of cogitation about how we shape others’ impressions of us. Sometimes our impressions of others actually undermine our ability to see who they are and what they mean. History with them, and disappointments with them, seem to frequently color our greater impressions and reactions. Emotions overtake thinking. Anger sets in and calcifies. Then we limit engagements, refuse to talk to them. Why should we? They’ve proven who they are to us.
Yet, we know that one of the greatest constants of existence is change. Many of us try and succeed to change ourselves for the better. Sometimes we awaken from whatever cocoon held us and realize, “Oh, shit. What did I do?” Then we hunt avenues to fix whatever mess we created.
Not all, I guess. I’ve known some terminally ignorant people who refused to ever admit they were ever wrong, let alone try to fix things. But others saw them for that toxicity and drifted from them until they stood alone, stewing in their rage about how they knew they’re right and everyone else is wrong. I think Trump is deeply into that circle. The thing is, his wealth and power keep extending his life. He’s surrounded himself with enablers. To admit that he’s wrong is to admit they’re wrong. And they’re shying off from that.
Like Trump, like Mom, like me and others I know, underlying our behavior are health challenges. I’m dealing with mine and seem to be rapidly improving. But I know others who are skating downhill, picking up speed, piling up the problems. It’s harder to see those things in others, whether their causes are emotional, neurological, matters with digestion, depression, or the simpler and more insidious problem…getting old. Even when you know ‘what’s wrong with them’ in clear and lucid terms, it’s hard to grasp the many ways that what’s wrong with them interferes with their being, causes them suffering, and makes them seem to lash out. Some people magnify what they’re going through, hungry for attention. Others hide it as deeply as possible, shunning attention and sympathy, disgusted that they might be *gasp* pitied. We’re complicated beings in a complicated world.
I have Fall Out Boy in the morning mental music stream. “Save Rock and Roll” featuring Elton John is the breakfast soundtrack. It hinges on the pins of my reflections and a lyric that goes, “You are what you love, not who loves you.” Not sure how it fits into my morning morass of mingling musings.
Rock and roll never forgets even if peace and grace seem to. Got my coffee. Here we go, into the gray future once again. Cheers
With Trump involved, so many ways to contemplate this news evolves.
Will they be gold plated battleships?
With Trump trying to turn back time and erase history, how many masts and sails will the Trump class of ships have?
Will the Trump class of battleships be as successful as Trump Steaks, Trump Air, Trump Institute, and Trump University?
Trump Steaks began sales in 2007 and ended in 2007 after poor sales.
Trump Air began in 1989 and ended in 1992 after financial issues and was not sustainable as a long-term airline under the Trump name.
Both Trump University and Trump Institute started in 2005 and were effectively done by 2010 amidst financial and legal issues.
Which will be finished first: a Trump class battleship, the Trump ballroom, a Trump cellphone delivery, Trump’s next impeachment trial, Trump Ocean Resort Baja Mexico, or Trump’s funeral?
Is the Trump class of ships as real as Trump’s ACA replacement plan?
Are Trump’s promises and assurances about this new class of ships named after him any more significant than his promises to reduce inflation on day 1?
Does Dozy Donny’s statements about this new class of ships carry the same weight as his promise that “Mexico will pay for the wall?”
Dizzy Donny is referring to it as the ‘Golden Fleet’. Is it possible he’s thinking of ‘the golden shower’, like the one he had in Russia?
“The U.S. Navy will lead the design of these ships along with me, because I’m a very aesthetic person,” Trump said.
Yes, sure. Just look at what he’s done to the White House’s East Wing, Oval Office, and Rose Garden. They’re sooooo aesthetic.
34 F today in Ashlandia as winter takes over. My sister told me she likes it when it gets that warm in winter. LOL. It’s Munda, December 22, 2025. Cloudy but they’re light, torn cloud shards. No rain is expected. Fog might crown some parts of town, according to reports, but it’s clear outside my windows. Today’s high might stretch to 50 F.
Our solstice dinner went well, thanks. We picked up frozen garlic Naan to go with our chosen soups. My wife went with cream of mushroom, which she declared with a mild shrug, “It’s okay.” I had a spicy and satisfying vegan chili. Naan went well with it. We complemented the meal with raw carrots, celery, and radishes.
Mom texted me that she’s very busy trying to get cards out to all her great- and grandchildren but she also had an upset stomach. There’s been no talk of war between her and sis, knock wood. Sis’s grandson turned seven so there was a party where the theme was six and seven. The children apparently found that hysterically funny.
My grandnephew prepares to blow out the candle on his birthday cupcake during a bowling party.
I was speaking with a friend I ran into yesterday. Quickly talking about politics, he mentioned how the Trump Regime was causing so much pain to several family members in different areas of the nation. One of them was a MAGA sister who is shocked by her premium increases. I think he said she lives in Arizona but don’t hold me to that. A nephew he mentioned is a liberal and a farmer who was really bleak about next year. I mentioned in response that Trump is the King of pain. That inspired The Neurons to project “King of Pain” by The Police in the afternoon mental music stream. It carried over to the morning mental music stream.
We’re off to do the Food & Friends deliveries. Swish some coffee down my throat first. If peace and grace show up here, I’ll give them a drink and tell them to go see you, yeah? Here we go. Cheers
The latest Trumpshit that really annoys is the continued withholding of energy funds to blue states and cities. This has been going on for months. The Trump Regime is withholding the funds because those states didn’t vote for him. The Trump Regime is actually framing it like that to the courts. Once again, Trump is trashing the U.S., spiting the Constitution and the law because of his vindictive nature.
That energy funding was passed by Congress and previous administrations. Yes, it’s being argued now that the TACO Regime’s actions are unlawful.
But, again, Trump can’t see the bigger picture.
Withholding this funding will affect technological development, putting the U.S. further behind other nations. As they advance, we’re regressing.
The funding provided money for projects. Those projects provide jobs. Yes, Trump has abundantly proven that he cares nothing about anyone but himself so the argument automatically beings failing. But growing numbers of unemployed people costs the government and craters the economy. Lets be reductive so he might grasp it: less money in pockets means less money to spend. Less money to spend means less things purchased. Less things purchased means less manufacturing and services, which cut into the gross national product.
I know, I know, this is all beyond the comprehension of a person who thinks starting a lawnmower is overly complicated. Maybe that’s where Trump’s cognitive testing should begin. “Mr Trump, can you open this door by using a handle?”
Assuming Trump does manage to open the door, we can then test him with a series of devices. “Mr Trump, can you start this lawnmower? Can you turn on this dishwasher?”
On the other hand, the TACO Regime is betting on the Roberts Court, who has bailed them out via shadow dockets and breaking with Constitutional precedence to protect Trump’s actions.
Also, as demonstrated over and over again, Trump and his minions love crapping on the United States. They actively hate it and show it through their actions every day, attacking American history, American cities, and American citizens.
The ‘Peace President’ continues to malign the concept.
This time, Trump is attacking ISIS. This is of course in retribution for the deaths of three service members.
“This is not the beginning of a war — it is a declaration of vengeance. The United States of America, under President Trump’s leadership, will never hesitate and never relent to defend our people,” Hegseth said on social media.
~snip~
Yes, that dim beam of light known as Hegseth thinks that changing a word reframes WTF is going on.So, Pete, question: would that be a ‘declaration of vengeance’ against ISIS, which Trump claimed he’d 100% eliminated back in 2019?
Trump claims ‘100 percent‘ of ISIS caliphate defeated in Syria
“We just took over … you kept hearing 90 percent, 92 percent, the caliphate in Syria. Now it is 100 percent. We just took over 100 percent caliphate. That means the area of the land. We have 100 percent,” Trump said.
“We did that in a much shorter period of time then it was supposed to be,” he said. “It was supposed to take — I will not tell you what a certain general told me. But I went and met a couple of other generals. And they said how long do you think it could take, general? One week, sir. One week? I heard two years. One week, sir. Let us do it the way that we want to do it. I said: General, do it.’ And if so, what happened. We had the whole thing.”
~snip~
That’s a perfect summary for Trump. Lying and boasting, working on the same issues that he claimed to have completely solved. Or pretending it’s a hoax or fake news. Always resorting to lies to escape accountability, always depending on bullying to get ahead.
Trump & Hegseth remind me of someone else who said and did something similar.
What’s that expression about learning from history again? Something about not learning from history and repeating it.
Greetings to my fellow humans and coffee ants. It’s Wenzda! Humpda! December 17 2025.
Ashlandians find ourselves in warmer weather with less fog. We’re hanging at about 40 degrees F. Light gray clouds with low bellies soldier past sunlit dark green evergreens. The clouds tear and break as they meet the trees. Another slice of sky features darker clouds mingling with bright blue sky. All shines with a rainy sheen, waiting to dry off. Today’s high will strike 47 F, ‘they’ say. We’re unsure they’ll be correct.
Slop is the word of the year. Hard to argue with that. In this information age, disinformation sown and furthered by AI’s efforts to entertain and uneducate the masses while undermining political will and decision-making owns many media outlets and social platforms.
Some of this is deliberately done. Feeling down? Go shopping! Look at these deals!
Not into shopping? Tune into NASCAR. NBA, NFL, college football, college basketball, hockey, volleyball, oh, boy the Olympics are coming! The world cup!
Eat our new food! Buy our new stuff! Watch our new show! Enjoy our new movie! Don’t like them, then watch the old movies, the old sitcoms, the old dramas, and remember how it used to be. Don’t think. Just sit back and relax. Let us take care of you.
What a way to end the year, mired in slop, wondering WTF is going to happen next year. Will the U.S. wage open war on Venezuela or go all in with Russia against the Ukraine? Trump is all for that. War for peace. “We can only win peace if we’re strong enough to fight for it,” he’ll snarl. And enough Americans are simple enough to eagerly nod agreement. We got all that military power. Shame not to use it, right?
Thinking about slop as the word of the year has The Neurons laughing. “Slop is the word is the word that you heard. It’s got groove, it’s got meaning. Slop is the time, is the place, is the motion. Slop is the way we are feeling.”
The Neurons might be on to something this time.
Anyway, they slotted “Grease” as sung by Frankie Valli in the movie, Grease, in the morning mental music stream. Except we’re singing ‘slop’ instead of ‘grease’.
Okay, coffee is greasing me up. Hope peace and grace break through the slop and make a cameo sometime in 2025’s final days. Here we go again. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 