It wasn’t one of the places she lived in real life, but I knew it was her house.
No one else was there. The place was messy in many places, totally opposite of anyplace I’ve lived or visited where Mom was in command.
Getting there, I found a narrow bed. White sheets, pink blanket, pillow, but unmade. I decided to sleep a bit.
A long-haired gray and white cat joined me. I talked to it in the way we do with animals, telling the cat, a male, I knew, was very handsome. The cat then *ahem* indicated that it wanted to have sex with me.
Full-blown horror lashed me. I rejected that completely, telling the cat that was sick and disgusting. I added, “You can sleep with me but as a cat, not a sexual partner.”
Unable to sleep after that, I got up and walked around, taking notice of the mess. Part of it on one end was a pond with rocks. Water fed into it but the water was scummy, full of plants and crap. Deciding I would clean it, I went off, found rags, buckets, tools.
My sisters arrived, chattering and laughing, before I could clean it but after a sort pause, I did. In dream fashion, it was miraculously fast and easy.
I showed the others. Everyone was impressed by what I’d done. Two turtles emerged from the pond. My youngest sister exclaimed, “I knew there were turtles in there.”
One turtle puked. Examining that, my sister announced with happiness, “It’s pregnant. I am so happy.”
Mom arrived shortly afterward, the middle-aged person I knew for most of my life. Her hair was blond and she was wearing black slacks with this black and white polka-dotted frilly shirt that she often liked to wear. Smiling and happy, she came in, saying hello to all of us.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Friday, August 21, 2026.
It’s a cool 75 F under cloudy skies right now. Looks like it could rain but rain is not in our forecast. Today’s high is expected to be 90, ten degrees lower than what we saw yesterday.
Mom is really down right now. She feels trapped and ignored, and that’s very understandable.
Mom texted me that her PCP told her she looks tired and old. Mom’s claim; don’t know if that’s what the doctor said. Mom also texted me, “I don’t want to see another birthday,” “Why won’t God let me die,” and “I don’t want a memorial service when I die. I don’t want anything.”
Mom, to me, always depended upon the structure of routines and schedules. Now her aging, medical issues, and medications has fractured her norms. She used to use cleaning as an outlet to stay on track, along with writing copious notes on her calendar about what was going on: children’s schedules and visits, appointments, bills due and paid, house and car maintenance. Those mechanisms are gone, too. She’s being told one to sleep, eat, and socialize, and she doesn’t like it. Additionally, she and her daughters who live closest to her have a huge emotional schism relating to their lives together and Mom’s choices.
Mom reacts to the gap with anger; the sisters react to Mom’s anger with more distance.
It’s like a self-fulfilling doom loop.
The closing for the sale of Mom’s house is next Tuesday at 5 PM. I texted Mom to ensure she was aware.
She didn’t respond.
Without real surprise, I see that Trump is encouraging the construction of AI and data centers. Backlash against AI/data centers is growing across the United States, creating an ideological trap for Donald Trump.
Part of this is that these types of sites take up land, water, and electricity, but nothing tangible that can be held in your hand emerges from it.
The other part of the trap is that the corporations often demand huge tax breaks and subsidies for the privilege of building there, and the locals are not usually consulted. That pisses them off, because nobody is listening to them. That was exactly the angry and emotional fodder Trump used as fuel to win their votes; he was speaking for them, ‘telling them like it is’.
Now, as others have done, Trump is ignoring them.
And it’s happening on the cusp of the midterm elections.
Those of us who understand who Trump is aren’t surprised. He used MAGA to achieve political power. Then he used that political power to enrich himself. Now he’s using it to further enrich the ultra-wealthy. There are no surprises there, if you’ve been paying attention.
Trump is breeding discontented supporters. They won’t vote for Democrats — “Never Democrats” is probably one of their most repeated mantras — but they won’t come out and vote for Trump, either.
All this thinking has The Neurons playing “Everybody Hurts” by R.E.M in my morning mental music stream. When people feel ignored, they hurt. Released in 1993, the song was written about and for teenagers and what they endure. I think it’s sensibilities are more universal than that.
Sample Lyrics
When your day is long And the night, the night is yours alone When you’re sure you’ve had enough Of this life, well hang on
Don’t let yourself go ‘Cause everybody cries Everybody hurts sometimes
Sometimes everything is wrong Now it’s time to sing along
When your day is night alone (hold on, hold on) If you feel like letting go (hold on) If you think you’ve had too much Of this life, well hang on
‘Cause everybody hurts Take comfort in your friends Everybody hurts
May you prosper today, enjoying peace, joy, and happiness. Hopefully, you won’t feel ignored or alone.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Thursday, August 20, 2026.
Buckle up: supposed to be hot today, 100F. High small puffy clouds dot the blue sky. The sun feels like someone turned it up to eleven. Although it’s only 71, the ‘feels like’ is 85 F.
Spent time this morning on Watch Duty reviewing the state of wildfires in Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Nevada, and California. A depressing exercise.
Still waiting for Mom’s house to close. Gina, my sister who now oversee Mom’s finances, was complaining about how much Mom spent on Amazon on lipstick, diapers, clothes, shoe polish, and other things. Gina wanted me to tell Mom about how much money Gina thought Mom is wasting.
I said no. Not doing it. Bought Mom an Amazon gift card instead, to help her with these expenses. Mom doesn’t have much of a life these days, and now you’re pressing to nickel and dime her?
We’re into some deep WTF territory with Trump this week as he went on about flagpoles.
To be fair, his flagpole riff seemed a lot like his grass riff. He does love to declare himself an expert, knowing more than anyone, about many things.
Your Trump Quote of the Day:
Trump did pay $100K for these flagpoles last year. But then the servant of We the People could afford it, as he raked in $3B for his first year in office. 100K/3,000,000K = .003%
I label the flagpoles another cheap installment of Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! Trump bloviates about flagpoles as gas prices climb again. Diesel prices have jumped 15 cents to $5.47 per gallon, which adds to the cost of transporting just about everything.
But do please tell us more about the shape of your flagpole, Donald Trump.
People should know Trump is saying these things and quit treating him like he’s stable or a genius. He’s a criminal, head of a criminal enterprise. They need to wake up to that but probably won’t until Trump steals them blind.
All these things — big and little — Trump does stack up into one large mess.
I ended up with “Little Things” by Bush in my morning mental music stream. Released in 1995, it was all about how little things add up to dwarf your sense of self and what is possible.
Sample Lyrics
The river is loaded, I’ve been there today Took it some questions, she does me again I’d die in your arms if you were dead too Here comes a lie, we will always be true
Going up when coming down Scratch away-way-way-way-way
It’s the little things that kill Tearin’ at my brain again Oh, the little things that kill The little things that kill
Bigger you give, bigger you get We’re boss at denial but best at forget The cupboard is empty, we really need food Summer is winter and you always knew
Going up when coming down Scratch away-way-way-way-way
It’s the little things that kill Tearin’ at my brains again Oh, the little things that kill Tearin’ at my brains again
Yeah, it’s the little things that kill. Trump — and more importantly, the masterminds behind him, Heritage Foundation and Project 2025 — knows this.
May you surmount the little things with peace and grace today and every day.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Wednesday, August 19, 2026.
August is moving on slow as molasses for me. I’m okay with that.
The claim is that it’ll be 96 F today. Forecasts yesterday said we’d hit 95 but we were four short of that. It’s 68 outside with high clouds clotting across the blue sky.
Our fingers are crossed that Mom’s house will finally close today. The buyers are using a grant to buy. The involved realtors say that the grant review and approval process has significantly slowed this year. It’s a federal program. A large part of me wonders if the Trump administration with its personnel cutbacks is responsible.
I’m not going to go into news and politics much on this post today. Writing a separate post on them.
I’m dedicating this instead to ZZ Top and Frank Beard. ZZ Top is an American rock band which had a heavy blues influence in its early years. They were a trio: Billy Gibbons, Dusty Hill, and Frank Beard. I started listening to them in high school. Saw them in concert a few times. Now only Billy Gibbons, lead vocalist, guitar, and song writer remains as Frank Beard, 77, joined Dusty Hill in that big gig in the otherworld.
I basically divide ZZ Top’s sound into two eras. In their early years was that blues sound. Multiple favorite songs hang with me from that period. For today, I’ll go with “La Grange” and “Jesus Left Chicago”.
The second period moved ZZ Top more into commercial mainstream pop. They became phenomenally successful. My preferred sound from that era was “Sharp Dressed Man”, which my wife and I liked to sing as ‘short, fat man’.
So here we go, into the morning mental music stream. May your day be blessed with happy memories of good music and good times, and optimism for our future.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Tuesday, August 18, 2026.
We’re back from the coast. Cool there — usually in the 60s. Yesterday made it to the 90s F after our return; we expect more of the same, with the temperature reaching the mid 90s today. Right now, still feels like the coast, minus that fresh air scent. 65 F but already feels like 71.
Mom’s house will close tomorrow. Maybe. I hope; the delays are ratcheting up everyone’s nerves. We’re on edge because if it doesn’t sell, here we go again. I also feel for the people waiting to buy. I imagine what they’re going through. Mom is sad about losing her home, and I understand that, but I’m looking at the flip side, of the people who thought, here is the answer we’ve been seeking.
Getting back into the normal groove. Making a list of things to do around the house. Must replace my wife’s lost phone. That’s job 1.
Meanwhile, though, get caught back up on the news. What is Trump up to now?
Having wrecked the White House east wing and paved over the historic Rose Garden, Trump is destroying the south lawn. Already looking bad due to his various ‘functions’ on it — which of course, he blames on vandals, now becoming one of his favorite old man words — he’s going to ‘fix it’.
I already cringe at the idea that Trump will try to fix something else. Look how he ‘fixed’ the Oval House, plastering gold all over. Recall how Trump fixed the economy: the number of the employed is falling, the national debt is rising, and the affordability crisis is spreading like an unchecked tumor.
Look how Trump ‘fixed’ Iran, by bombing it to the point that the US’s munitions were seriously depleted. Look how Trump fixed the navy (exhibit number 1: USS Abraham Lincoln, or the USS Benford) and the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool.
Someone captured Heather Cox Richardson’s conclusions about our current state in a graphic.
As with everything else Trump, there is no evidence to his delusional claims. It’s just more Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL!, more squirming to avoid the truth and facts, and more scheming to gain and keep wealth and power for himself.
As an aside, what’s the latest on Mitch McConnell? Back from the dead yet? How ’bout the Epstein files? Trump fulfill that promise yet?
After that thinking, the morning mental music stream occupant is by Four Non-Blondes. I was talking about this song the other night. The Neurons made a note. When I said to myself, coffee in hand, “Okay, let’s see what’s up,” the song “What’s Up” began playing.
It’s a good song for the times.
Sample Lyrics
And I try, oh, my God, do I try? I try all the time, in this institution And I pray, oh, my God, do I pray? I pray every single day for revolution
And so I cry sometimes when I’m lying in bed Just to get it all out, what’s in my head And I, I am feeling a little peculiar And so, I wake in the morning and I step outside And I take a deep breath and I get real high And I scream from the top of my lungs, “What’s going on?”
And I say, hey-ey-ey, hey-ey-ey I said, “Hey, what’s going on?” And I say, hey-ey-ey, hey-ey-ey I said, “Hey, a-what’s going on?”
Now off to write.
I hope your day is complete with peace, grace, good foods, and good weather.
I was working for a small startup. Don’t know what the business was supposed to be but the dream featured many real-life co-workers. Among these was a person I worked for, LD; LD fired in my dream.
The firing shocked me. But I had made a stand against not doing something which LD advocated that I found shady. (That, BTW, is completely contrary to LD’s real-world ethics.) Telling me that I was fired, LD added that I was being given $28,000 in severance, along with $6K to $8K in other expenses. Not a bad package but I still brooded over being fired. Given till the day’s end to clear out my desk, coworkers, the CEO, and several of the directors from other departments, came by, expressing support for me.
I then had to feed the cat. That was my real-life cat, Jade, who passed away twenty years ago. Not feeding her right was apparently part of the complaint against me, which I found laughable as she gobbled up the food I gave her.
Then I left. I ended up hitching a ride with four co-workers in a red VW Beetle. Two of them were female. A friend of mine from current real-life, Bob, was present. Bob was very drunk and angry about me being fired. He was playing something called ‘the dictionary game’. I couldn’t figure it out. Bob, having won, got out of the car to go home. He beat on the car’s window then, telling me that they were wrong to fire me. Then he walked off.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Monday, August 10, 2026.
Our August cooling trend continues. Today we’ll see low 90s with blue skies and sunshine in our valley. Last night saw the temperature fall to 58 F in our area. I had to go around closing windows to keep the house from getting too cold. Poor us, right?
Mom and Gina, my sister and Mom’s Power of Attorney, continue their cold war. I don’t think peace will come again, a change from how I was viewing it. Something about the conflict has triggered both, hardening their attitudes. Each instantly react angrily. Invectives and accusations fly.
Got Food & Friends deliveries today, along with a medical appointment this afternoon, so it’s another brief post. Somehow, most of my reading ended up being about Trump and the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool. The story reminds us that Trump first claimed how resilient the fix he installed was.
“In May, for example, Trump said the lining was “so strong, so powerful” that it couldn’t be cut with a knife. He even drove his motorcade across it while it was being installed to inspect the work.”
Then, somehow, a vandal or group with knives managed to cut and tear that ‘so strong, so powerful’ lining.
“We have photographs, or tapes,” he said, making a circular gesture with his hands. After a pause, he pointed to the cameras recording him and added: “Like moving cameras, right?”
Except, oh no, after Jeanine Pirro announced that they were dropping prosecution of the one vandal they’d arrested, Trump now claims there is no evidence:
“There was substantial other damage to the Reflecting Pool, also but, unfortunately, there is no video or proof, other than the damage, itself,” Trump wrote on Truth Social on Sunday.
Anyone following the story knows the truth and has seen the evidence: the one who screwed up the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool is Trump. And the one lying about it is also Trump.
The thing is, too, as it’s been often noted, the cover up is frequently worse than the crime. If Trump had just let it go, admitted he made a mistake, or anything like that, it would have already disappeared as a story. Instead, Trump dug in, refuse the facts and the truth, and made it worse.
But that’s Trump: lying, then lying about his lies, digging deeper and deeper holes. Did it with the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool; tariffs and the economy; the Epstein files; and the war he began with Iran.
A little over a year ago, I used the song “Basket Case” by Green Day as the day’s theme music. Trump has just attacked Iran for the first time. At that time, I wondered if June 21, 2025 and the attacks on that day would go down as the day that World War III quietly began?
Trump declared that mission enormously successful.
Three days later, he walked back those claims. February of this year, he attacked Iran again. And the war has been going ever since, off and on, widening and creating death and destruction. Time and again, Trump gives different reasons for that war, not calling it a war to avoid being held in check, and has claimed different levels of results and success.
And that is why “Basket Case” is playing in the morning mental music stream today — again.
Sample Lyrics:
Do you have the time to listen to me whine? About nothing and everything, all at once I am one of those melodramatic fools Neurotic to the bone, no doubt about it
Sometimes I give myself the creeps Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me It all keeps adding up I think I’m cracking up Am I just paranoid or am I just stoned?
Papi has settled in for the day. He’s ready for a day of relaxation. Hope you are, too.
Got chilly last night — low 60s — which felt awesome. Even now, it’s in the upper 60s and a cool breeze is swimming past. Sky is postcard blue; no smoke or clouds. Expected to be in the mid 90s as our highs.
Mom and sis, Gina, remain at war. I’m surprised it lasted this long. Gina usually tries for another pact. Perhaps, after all attempts have failed, she’s really given up on Mom. Mom, on her side, blames Gina; sees no fault on her end. Mom did ask when her house was closing, which won’t be until after August 14.
It was a night of deep sleep and wild dreams. We have some socializing happening today, so I’m not going to dwell on the news.
Today’s music is “Catch Us If You Can”. This is a Dave Clark 5 song that came out when I was 9, in 1965. I know it because my sister, two years older, was getting into music. She had a DC5 album, along with albums by Freddie and the Dreamers, and Herman’s Hermits. She played them a lot.
Why is the song in my morning mental music stream? I don’t know. The Neurons probably conjured some secret connections with my dreams, thinking, writing, memories, but they’re as revealing as the Sphinx on a hot day.
I hope that you have a satisfying and enjoyable day, and that maybe it has some socializing in it.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Wednesday — August 5, 2026.
We hit 101.5 at my house yesterday. That was outside. Inside, we stayed below 80. We’ve yet to run the A/C yet this year — knock wood — as the temperatures drop enough at night to cool the house and land down.
We’ll see if that holds today. Right now, it’s 83 F, on its way to 101 again.
The thing about yesterday’s weather is that it climbed slowly. At one mid-afternoon point, I thought, well, this isn’t bad. 91 then, I thought, maybe we won’t hit one hundred. Then I entered a store, came back out said to myself, holy shit, it’s hot as hell. What happened?
Today, though — hot early, hot fast.
Although there are more fires burning across the United States, we’re still fire-free — knock wood. The smoke isn’t bad, either. We’re fortunate in our neck of the woods; Oregon has topped 2,000,000 acres burned this year. Washington has several large fires going. Portland (OR) now has the worst air in the world, due to the wildfires.
Mom and my sister, Gina, continue their quiet war. Mom turned to her granddaughter, Gina’s daughter — Amy — as the go-between. Amy is rejecting the role. Although Mom helped raise Amy, Amy doesn’t deal well with the tension of being the go-between. Plus, Amy is in college, working on a Masters, and she works. So I help fill the gap.
As 2026 wears on, we’re seeing the shadows of Trump’s thinking, lying, fantasizing, playing out in real time now. It’s all catching up.
“When Trump hits a brick wall now, as president, he just fashions an alternative reality. He can talk up tough financial data or a foreign policy hiccup as though he’s bigging up a tatty property in a real estate prospectus.“
Your Trump Quote(s) of the Day:
This is the same tired claim Trump made in January of this year:
Trump has made this claim dozens of times already. But reality does not back him up. As with many matters, Trump has a basic misunderstanding of how things work. If inflation cools, prices don’t ‘come down’; inflation is a measure of how much they’ll increase.
Trump’s claims about affordability and prices coming down, and being in a ‘golden age’ is just like his Iran War rhetoric. Trump has claimed victory again (April), again (June), and again (July). Yet the war goes on, in August. He keeps trying to distract us from the truth. Not happening, because we’re paying through the nose, and we’re feeling it.
Today’s music is “Shadowplay” by Joy Division. Seems right for today. I didn’t know the song when it came out, and discovered it when The Killers covered it for a movie. I like the original’s sonic approach to the gittar playin’. Good morning mental music stream occupant for these times as Trump’s shadow grows.
Michael Seidel, writer 