Tag: Mom

Saturday’s Theme Music

Today is January 24, 2026.

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

2

Thirstdaz Theme Music

Today is Thursday, January 22, 2026.

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.

We wait to see what Trump will do next. He promised to cap credit card interest rates by January 20. Didn’t happen.

“We’re going to issue a dividend to our middle-income people and lower-income people, about $2,000,” Trump told the press Nov. 10. “And we’re going to use the remaining tariffs to lower our debt.”

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

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Twozdaz Theme Music

“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

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Saturdaz Theme Music

Ashland, Oregon, landed on Saturday, January 17, 2026, with a quiet sigh. Freezing fog still plagues us but it’s invisible and doesn’t make us freeze. Temperatures now sit at 55 (my house), 51 (online) and 55 (Alexa) degrees F. Despite air stagnation, freezing fog, and an inversion layer, we’ll hit the mid to upper sixties today.

The snow drought bothers me. I’ve only lived here for 20 years. Dog knows memory is imperfect but this snow season is a monumental shift from my lived-in memories. We don’t usually get much accumulation in Ashland, but we typically get flurries a few times. An inch to three falls, giving us a lovely morning treat before sunshine burns it off into a memory.

There’s been no days like that which I’ve seen this year. I remind myself, this is still January and a couple winter months remain, and spring snow isn’t unusual. Just waiting, I suppose, for a reminder that it is winter.

Waiting for snow, I feel like I’m in stasis. Not the usual stasis where I don’t age and the outside world and I don’t meet. This is more of the stasis of waiting, like, ‘drop the other shoe already’ stasis.

That applies not just to weather. With Frank and Dad gone — two of the triumvirate parental units in my life — I await word on Mom. Regular accounts report her as increasingly less lucid and physically weaker. I think sis does a superb job of helping Mom, and continually thank her in my head and in conversations with her.

Part of my thanks float up whenever I do Food & Friends deliveries. I think, without sis, Mom would probably be in a situation like this, awaiting a knock on the door for a meal delivery, struggling to get to the door and get it open. Many recipients on our route live in nice homes but several lodge in apartments or motel rooms. There must be a better solution that doesn’t cost a gazillion dollars.

Part of my stasis also centers around ICE, especially with Minneapolis. Paul Krugman referred to that city as the ICE crucible, which fits; it’s an ICE experiment for how far Trump can intimidate through force and violence before someone reins him in.

Outside my home, the world spins on its own axis. Trump’s overtures about acquiring Greenland sound more frequently like Putin in Russia talking about Crimea and Ukraine. It strikes me less about geopolitical strategy and more about imperialistic land grab to acquire mineral rights.

So, I wait and wonder, will we go to war over Trump’s Greenland obsession, and how much greater will ICE’s violence against American citizens become?

The Neurons responded to my state with Queen of the Stone Age — “No One Knows”, in the morning mental music stream. The song opens,

‘We get some rules to follow. That and this, these and those, no one knows.’

Those opening lyrics work for my morning mind set. We’re given rules of living but the rules for dying are less defined. Likewise, Trump is a chaos multiplier, breaking rules and establishing his own rules, increasing tension and anxiety.

Hope your day is stress free and strong with hope and grace. Meanwhile, I will break my stasis with coffee and step into the day. Cheers

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Sundaz Theme Music

Sunda, January 11, 2026, silently settles in around us in Ashland. My wife and I gage the outside weather together.

Alexa told us it’s 36, cloudy, with fog and stagnant air, and a high of 56 F upcoming. My system says it’s 30 F.

“Look at the fog,” my spouse intones.

I nod. “Fortunately, it’s the invisible kind.”

Yes, we can see blue skies, sunshine, and the treed mountains as far as forever and perspective allow us. I suppose other parts of Ashland are soaked in fogs, cloud, and warmer air, and that’s where Alexa gleans her report.

Sis reported that Mom was very loopy this week. Mom again fell out of her wheelchair, again insisting that the chair ‘threw her out’. Sis and I have seen Mom in the chair and warned about leaning too far and not paying enough attention to her posture and balance.

From Mom’s point of view, she was doing everything right. What was going wrong was the chair. But we saw the same thing when she was walking last year but frequently falling. In that case, absently turning and reaching and becoming overextended caused her to fall. She always blamed something else.

Perspectives often matter. Judging from news reports and blogs, politically progressives are as enraged and watchful as me with ICE matters.

It’s dismaying. After an ICE agent killed an unarmed American citizen, Renee Good, in Minneapolis, many called for restraint. Using reports of more ICE confrontations, ICE responded with more aggression.

I watched multiple videos of Good’s encounter and death. They all left me stunned as others. I questioned why ICE agent Ross drew his weapon in the first place. The agent seemed overly aggressive, as if he wanted a chance to shoot.

ICE agents were bellicose, shouting, “Get out of the fucking car.” When Good was shot and the car went off and crashed as she died, someone said, “Bitch.”

I read a report that the killing was the first in Minneapolis in 2026. That doesn’t bode well for a calm and peaceful 2026.

Music helped reclaim some sense of calm this morning. Papi did too, coming by to greet me with chirpy purr-mew. As my oatmeal with cinnamon was made ready, The Neurons put Ray LaMontagne singing “Trouble” in the morning mental music stream.

Trouble
Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble
Trouble been doggin’ my soul since the day I was born

Worry
Worry, worry, worry, worry
Worry just will not seem to leave my mind alone

The song’s lyrics are right. Worry won’t let my mind alone since Trump emerged on the politic scene.

May worry and trouble leave you alone and peace and grace come by and comfort all of us. Cheers

4

Satyrdaz Theme Music

We’ve come to a new 2026 Satryda. Falling on January 10, nothing in my introduction to it portends to anything significant — yet; the day is early.

46 F outside, with clouds and stagnant air planning to shuffle us into the low to mid 50s. Despite storm warnings about snow, none materialized in our town. The surrounding mountains received a chunk. As that’s where the snowbank resides, it’s reassuring that some moisture has been stocked up for the summer. More is still needed.

I’m thinking about patterns today — life, daily, political, weather. A dream inspired the initial thought flow. Then my usual consultation of temperatures, my weather cat — Papi — and the view outside intersected.

Weather shapes our lives, as does technology, relationships, and modern politics. Each day is a snapshot of the present, but we can see the past and future in it. Interpretations of those depends on which details we notice and how we apply knowledge to what we see.

More, some let themselves try to see less to force it into a preconceived framework. They work to strengthen their framework by challenging less.

Conversely, I think knowing less weakens our framework. I always fear that I’m limiting myself, that I’m chasing facts to support assumptions. I know I have biases which emerge to curtail my views.

I can see that happen in the entire spectrum of myself, whether the thoughts are about writing, fiction, sports, weather, politics, or personal relationships. All these things have their own spectrums. I move along them, and they move along me. The resulting dynamics are always complex.

I want to have a fidelity to truth, facts, honesty, and history. But it seems like we’re living in a period in which those elements are under consistent attack.

At the same time, I remind myself that I’ve never lived in another period. I can easily visualize hundreds or thousands of years ago when people struggled to understand and learn the truth and apply it to their lives, just as I’m doing now.

The more things change, the more they remain the same. That’s the essence of all of these thoughts about patterns.

Getting involved with my thoughts, The Neurons planted “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac in the mental morning music stream. The Neurons weren’t focused on the dream aspect, though; they came through with the song’s first lines.

“Well there you go again, you say you want your freedom. Well, who am I to keep you down? It’s only right that you should play the way you feel it.”

Because, you know, beyond all those facts and truths, we’re always dealing too with emotions.

Hope this Satyrda finds you safe and comfortable in your patterns, ready to move forward in positive ways. Cheers

0

Fridaz Theme Music

The temperature is sulking between 28 (my house) and 37 F (the net). The net amends its claim, “Feels like 27 degrees”. Well, alright then.

It’s Frida, January 9, 2026. The grass is a ghostly shade of green under an unstoppable blue sky. Sunshine feeds light into the valley. All of it looks promising, optimistic. Today’s high will drag the mercury to 46 F.

I’m processing news and information, reflecting on 2026’s launch and its relative successes and failures. Mom and sis have been quiet. Sis has only commented on another sister’s behavior. The other sister is urging everyone to sell Mom’s house quickly but is not doing anything to make that happen.

Sis and Mom are quiet. I hope it’s because stress has dropped for the two, letting them breathe and communicate. I have my fingers crossed that we’ll see a peaceful January. If they can go an entire month without blowing up my phone with texts accusing the other of hate and malfeasance, it’ll be a new record.

Likewise, watching growing reactions in the political world, I slowly became hopeful that improvements are rising. My hopes are not unlimited.

After an ICE agent shot and killed an American citizen in Minneapolis, there was a shooting involving border patrol agents and civilians in Portland. Fortunately, only two civilians were shot and they received prompt medical treatment. I don’t know how the two victims are faring; I hope both are recovering.

Mixed concerns rose after listening to Portland’s Mayor and Oregon Governor Tina Kotes speaking after the shooting. They called out Trump, Homeland Security, and ICE to de-escalate the situation. They then talked about re-building an atmosphere of trust.

Sadly, I don’t think Trump cares about a trust between citizens or political parties. Trump has ramped up his belligerence in 2026’s early days by insinuating that more military action against other nations and territories is possible. Even as National Guard units are being removed from Portland (OR) due to a judge’s order, Trump threatens to send them back in.

My worries about his increasing threats are grounded in the claim he’s recently made that only he can stop himself. Trump’s history is not one of self-restraint and his second term is replete with threats. He’s attacked judges who ruled against him, politicians who speak against him, and reporters who don’t portray him as the greatest.

Between Mom, sis, Trump, and the weather, I’m ready for January to be emotionally up and down. As it sometimes is with me, that mood summons songs from the grunge side.

This morning, the delivery came as I watched a small bird fly down to the yard. After three quick hops, he flitted to the wire. His little head popped left and right. To my mind, he was doing a recon, and his conclusion was, no, this is not the place, because he jumped up and flew off.

I smiled throughout this and thought about having wings and flying. The Neurons jumped into the thought party at that point to play me some “Down in A Hole” by Alice in Chains in the morning mental music stream.

The Neurons didn’t start at the beginning. They selected the lines, “I’d like to fly, but my wings have been so denied.” Laughter to that seemed like an appropriate response.

Coffee has been added to my morning tilt. Energy is rising. I hope you all reach and stay in a good place for this day and the many to follow. Cheers

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Mundaz Theme Music

Munda, January 5, 2026. Fog imposes a grey, wet-looking wall beyond the houses and trees across the street. 37 F is shown on the thermometer and forecasts call for rain and snow, with a ceiling of 38 F forecast. Looks like winter is finally taking an interest in Ashlandia.

I will note that a friend in Alaska was raving about her weather, displaying a thermometer that said it was -2 degrees F. That was the high. She insisted that she prefers it when it stays cold and frozen. According to her, the cycle of warming, melting, and re-freezing is much worse than a steady, consistent freeze. I’ll take her word on that.

My wife and I have been concerned about weather. Videos of king waves slashing the coast and heavy rains and flooding up north and down south worry us. People have been enduring so much foul weather. We’ve been spared but watching the situation, it feels like the storms were slowly pinching in around us. My conspiratorial mind, where I go to harvest ideas, whispers, maybe somebody is controlling the weather.

As we slink into 2026’s first Munda, we’re coping with news that another friend suddenly passed from cancer. More details aren’t yet known. Like Steve, who passed last year, this was another individual we saw at the lake with friends last summer. He seemed fine at the time and didn’t mention any health issues. Just another shock to the system in a cascade of shocks.

As I perused news and texted Mom and Dad’s widow about matters, I told myself to try to be more upbeat and optimistic this week. Weather and the general news tone levels a heavy burden, though.

Considering the weather, I find myself reflecting about Dad more. Born in the 1930s, Dad lived and worked in multiple states and every region. Dad was born in Pennsylvania. Mom was from Iowa, and he met her in either Minnesota or Nebraska.

After my parents married, they lived in Virginia, Texas, and California. He and I lived in West Virginia and Ohio. He was also stationed in the south and in New York and Indiana. Then he moved to Texas and met his third wife, and stayed in Texas.

A poker and pool fan, Dad enjoyed renting an RV and driving from San Antonio in Texas to Laughlin, Reno, and Las Vegas, Nevada. He also rented an RV to visit his other son in Utah. Then the RV was turned east and Dad visited his brother in Kentucky. The next leg was a drive to Georgia so Dad could visit his daughter and grand- and great-grandchildren.

Dad’s wife didn’t go with him. She’d fly to each place and return home! Oh, it’s all so funny to me, and remembering lifts my spirits.

While trying to adjust my mood today, The Neuron suggested a song called “Old Time Rock and Roll”. Bob Seger recorded and released it in 1978. Nothing particularly called me specifically from the lyrics. I appreciate the song’s beat and energy. It’s a good rhythm in the morning music mental stream to kickstart my energy. I’ll also drink some coffee, which will also help.

Hope your day is brighter and warmer than mine. May peace and grace lift your spirits and give us all a shot of optimism. Cheers

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Sundaz Theme Music

Our Ashland weather lands today as drying but wet, leaning toward being warm. This is Sunda, January 4, 2026. We usually expect some threat of snow during this season and month.

The outside does look wintry bleak. White clouds and bare branches bracket splashes of blue sky. Sunshine spills in with weak authority. But temperatures of upper forties to low fifties today, with a high in the fifties being mentioned, is less winter and more spring. Local talk about snow steers conversations toward the lack. Snow in the mountains give us the summer meltwater to keep our land hydrated.

We remind ourselves, look at history. This is Ashland, southern Oregon. Weather spins like a roulette wheel. Wherever it stops is a surprise and doesn’t surprise. Snow can still be on its way.

A new year vibe still reverberates in me, but I look on at what hasn’t changed. While weather is unpredictable, politics remain too predictable. So do family tensions. Mom and sis still butt heads, forcing small matters into huge blow ups.

After all of that, The Neurons playfully flipped “New Year’s Day” into the morning mental music stream. The U2 song from 1983 is written as a love song but a few lines stood out for The Neurons:

And so we’re told this is the golden age
And gold is the reason for the wars we wage
Though I want to be with you, be with you night and day
Nothing changes New Year’s Day

Although nothing changes New Year’s Day, I remind myself, it’s not a nimble world. Emotions, relationships, and politics are forces which require time to shift. A calendar change alone doesn’t provide enough reason for change for many.

I am an optimistic person, though. I look for positive change and I’m ready to embrace it. Let’s hope peace and grace show up and pushes positive change through. Cheers

0

A Road Trip Dream

I was setting out on a trip with three friends. Only one — Ron, an older man — translates to a current real-life person. Ron was just as he is in real life. The others, also males, were known.

One interesting note that emerged and wove throughout were two others, both female. They sometimes joined the journey, and Ron and I discussed whether they would be with us. The two women, both brunettes, one in a red top with black pants and the other wearing a bright blue top, would only appear and not speak directly to me.

We were riding in Ron’s truck. This was beige and big, with a four-door cab and a luxurious tan leather interior. Though Ron was driving, he was in the backseat. I was alongside him. He’d put the car on autopilot, so it was essentially driving itself with him just monitoring what was going on.

I kicked back beside him on the back seat. Stretching my legs out, my foot ended up hitting the steering wheel. That put us off course. Because of the way I was reclined, it took several seconds of jostling to get my foot out of the way. During that time, we went off the road and onto the shoulder but didn’t slow. Ron finally steered us back on course and returned the truck to autopilot, but now he was worried and concerned the police would pull us over.

We arrived at our destination — a huge furniture store. I’d never been to it. The floor was hard dirt. All furniture was antique white. Despite the floor and the limited offering, the store was very busy. The women showed up briefly. The others spoke with them while I went out to another section of store.

The next store section was filled with tables and chrome appliances. The appliances turned out to be food and drink dispensers. Needing to use a restaurant, I did some bowel business but discovered the toilet didn’t have any way to flush. Removing my fecal material with a wad of paper towels, I looked for a way to dispose of it. I found one but they wanted me to pay money to flush it away. I refused, angry and disgusted that they’d monetized flushing away our body functions. I instead found a small white bag, put the materials in there, and set it on a table, telling myself, it would be someone else’s problem.

I then reconnected with my friends. I told Ron that when we went back, I wanted to sit in the front and stretch out and sleep. He looked at me with confusion but didn’t reply. The two women came by. One said she had to go off and find her children.

My friends and I went to another section. People there were seated, waiting to pay for their selections. I stopped before one man and did a giddy tap dance. The man, overweight and big with swarthy skin and a white cowboy hat, ordered, “Stop that.” Laughing, I kept dancing but moved to another section. Another man who I didn’t see said, “Stop that,” but I laughed and danced away.

My friends met up with me again. All were surprised that I was tap dancing and thought it strange. They wondered how I learned it. I replied, “I’ve always known how to tap dance. Nobody ever needed to teach me. I just knew. I just don’t do it much.”

Dream end.

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