I dreamed I was at my mother’s house. It wasn’t her real-life house but I knew what it was in my dream. Although everything was white, there was little light.
I was trying to open some kind of cistern. As it transpired, I knew that it was wine I tried opening, to see how it was. It was supposed to be red wine.
I was being very careful, meticulous, because I worried about the cork falling apart. But it wasn’t the ‘traditional’ cork stopper, but a round, flat circle.
My youngest sister joined me. She asked what I was doing and I softly explained it as she leaned over me and watched. I had just gotten the safely out when something fell into the wine.
I asked my sister, “Did you see that?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“Was that a piece of the cork falling in?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so.” I sat back. “All that work and I got it out and then it broke and fell in.”
Papi was as pleased as he ever shows himself to be when we opened the back door and called his name. Standing, stretching, he paused to wash, then began to trot towards us, then stopped to stretch, and finally walked over, sat down, washed, and looked up: “Oh. Hi. Didn’t see you there.”
Good to see him.
56 degrees F here, roaring power lawn equipment has replaced the sounds of surf. There’s no beach to ponder, no waves to assess and admire, no fresh ocean air to breath, no ‘sea breeze’ to battle as I walk.
Bummer. It’ll be 85 and dry here…
One thing that struck us yesterday coming home was how empty the roads were. Motor homes were especially absent, but in general, it was light traffic to moderate traffic. Long stretches of secondary roads were driven where we met no other cars, followed no vehicles, and had nothing in our mirrors. It did not seem like the holiday traffic — or even the coastal traffic — we’ve encountered in previous years.
Gina, my younger sister, makes progress selling Mom’s possessions: $530 has been realized.The dining room table, chairs, hutch and sideboard are gone. Gina is wheeling and dealing. Someone shows interest, she reaches out, negotiates, shows them what else is available. More prospective buyers are coming by tomorrow. Vacuuming, sweeping, dusting, and polishing is underway. Our oldest sister is driving in from Georgia to help out this week.
Iran says that they’ll control the Strait of Hormuz and that their nuclear program isn’t being discussed. They’re proposing ‘fees’ instead of tolls or taxes to use the straits.
It’s the same kind of deals we often see on the local levels when our local government wants to raise money but knows that ‘taxes’ will cause a backlash. The answer: fees. We see it with airlines, too. Security fees, handling fees, administrative fees. Not charges, not taxes, not tolls — fees. I remember once reading that Texas had no taxes but they charged fees on everything.
Besides the Golden Age of Corruption, it’s the Golden Age of Fees.
Economists note that the US has been adding to its national debt at the rate of $5,000,000,000 per day since October of 2025.
In an interest coincidence, October of 2025 is when Trump demolished the White House East Wing to begin building the Epstein ballroom under Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL!
Today’s music is by Night Ranger. The Neurons unlocked it when I was in bed this morning, remembering dreams and drifting in and out of sleep. During that fugue state, “When You Close Your Eyes” from the 1980s began playing in the morning mental music stream.
As I remembered the song, I also remembered this was one of the songs I heard while visiting Mom and family after returning from Japan on military duty. My youngest sister and I were together. The song came on the radio. She smiled wide and said, “I love this song.” *smile*
And I realized that’s why the song came into the morning mental music stream; that sister had been in my dream as a young person.
I hope this day is going well for you, and you enjoy a day of peace and grace. If you can’t have that, I hope you can at least have a good meal and some happy times.
My wife and I are on the Oregon coast. We ate a wonderful fresh breakfast at the Fresh Harvest Cafe. Then we hit the local Goodwill.
My wife enjoys visiting Goodwill stores. She likes bargains and she likes re-using things. She did say today, “I’m not buying anything new. I’m death cleaning so whenever I see something I want, I just tell myself, ‘You’ll just have to throw it out.'” Books are the exceptions. We bought four, two for each of us.
Killing time, I wander the store and write a short story in my head. It’s about a future Goodwill. Dystopian situation. A guy ransacks an unused house. There’s a lot of them. Finding a cache of shot glasses, he brings them to the Goodwill. They give him a small bag of peanuts for them. He sits outside in the sunshine, savoring every nut as he eats them.
My sister texted me about her grandson’s birthday. He’s already fifteen, thoroughly discombobulating my brain, which still thinks of him as much younger. His mother is still a teenager in my thoughts. To see that he’s now a teenager is too much. I do the slow math; I was fifty-five when he was born. Time, you know?
Sis tells me that her grandson went to an Escape Room for his birthday. Muses gather in my head to conceptualize fiction about Escape Rooms.
Sis interrupts with a text abut Mom. She’s taken Mom to Urgent Care for another suspected UTI. Mom complains about dizziness as she Mom gets in and out of her wheelchair and the car.
Browsing Goodwill shelves, I see things which might be in my home. I go through an aisle of tools and imagine my tools in there.
I believe I have seen the future.
Leaving the building, I breath in fresh air and smile at the sunshine on my face.
Our big snowstorm is over! We’re melting out of it. Sunshine rules although washed gray clouds coil and twine on windbound courses of the snowy mountains. More snow is expected tomorrow morning, and rain is forecast for tomorrow afternoon.
How many inches we got yesterday depends on what part of town you’re in. One section saw twelve. We saw seven at our house, sunshine reduced it to three fast.
It’s 35 F now. Three hours ago, it was 26. The high is expected to be 41.
Ah, time. Enormous time was spent texting sisters about Mom’s situation. We’re frustrated and sad and often feel helpless. I think the people at the hospital and the social workers understand this and are doing their best. I think Mom is, too. As someone commented, there’s a lot of relationship history built into this moment. Mom and Frank were firm on their choices; they were not moving into assisted living.
‘Water under the bridge’ is the easy way to dismiss it all, but that water runs deeper than it first appears.
Things will be resolved with Mom but it won’t be a resolution that any of us want to own. It won’t satisfy anyone involved. At least for now, the short term. Perhaps, in a year, it’ll be different. What am I saying? It will be different. The greater question is, how will it be different?
I spent a lot of time this morning reading about the EPA’s Endangerment Finding EPA decision. While it’s an agency decision, deeper implications arise about short-term and long-term effects and the government’s role and responsibility to mitigate them. Beyond that, we have established history of how the Clean Air Act helped us become healthier. When we’re healthier, we’re happier and more productive. Yet — here we are, mired in controversy.
My views about what’s going on politically are also tainted with his use of the military. I don’t approve of that.
And my views are tarnished because history says what tariffs will and won’t do, and the majority of economic experts agree. Yet, Trump and his administration is doing the opposite.
It’s the same pattern with COVID-19, and now the same with vaccinations and the measles outbreaks. I ask myself, what will it take, and end up, nodding, yes, FAFO. That’s just how some minds work.
I’m disappointed, too, that MAGA supporters lambast President Biden for what they perceived as his mental and physical limitations, and yet treat Trump as though he’s a gift from God. And yes, I understand the role of social media and information bubbles, and news spin. But understanding those doesn’t alleviate my disappointment, conversely enhancing my frustration and disappointment.
I feel like I’m on the sidelines in many ways, watching, commenting, but removed, and maybe too insulated and isolated. It’s no surprise that The Neurons brought John Lennon with “Watching the Wheels” into my morning mental music stream.
May peace and grace get through to you and carry you on through the fray to better times.
Yes, it’s a day that ends with the letter y. That means that PINO Trump is letting loose with another fact-free, incredibly stupid text. In this case, Trump is declaring that he as 47 has won the Nobel Prize in Physics. This is so mind-jarringly freakin’ insane that I had to vet it several times.
In a post on his Truth Social platform Thursday, Trump appeared to take credit for the Nobel Prize in Physics, which was awarded to physicists John Clarke, Michel Devoret and John Martinis earlier this month for their discoveries related to quantum mechanics in 1984 and 1985.
Trump cited a statement, attributed to Energy Secretary Chris Wright, which appears to give the president credit over the experiments conducted decades ago.
See, Chris Wright is not the name of any of the physicists who won the Nobel Prize in Physics.
But Trump in his alternate reality thinks one of them is named Chris Wright. Chris Wright, a former CEO. Crazy Donnie’s statement states, “Chris Wright: ‘A former Lawrence Berkeley National Lab scientist won the Nobel Prize in physics for work in Quantum physics. Quantum computing, along with AI and Fusion, are the three signature Trump science efforts. Trump 47 racks up his first Nobel Prize!!’”
Chris Wright.
John Clarke, Michel Devoret, John Martinis.
Those names are not at all similar. To claim it as an honest mistake is all kinds of BS.
Further, though, and worse, Trump chalks this up as a victory for himself. He had nothing to do with any of it. What a liar and a fool he’s proven himself to be once again. But as Nan put it, yet, yet, yet, Trumpets are quite satisfied with this idiot leading them.
What unthinking, foolish sheeple they are in MAGAland. But as we’ve seen, they don’t care until they’re personally affected.
An elderly woman asked for my help at the coffee shop yesterday. She’s another coffee shop regular. I’ve seen her here for several years. By observing and eavesdropping, I knew where she lived, what she drove, her previous occupation, her standard order, and her name.
She’s named Sandy. As I helped her, she said, “I was an elementary school teacher.”
I replied, “What a coincidence! I used to go to elementary school.”
She laughed.
I’m thinking of Sandy today because I’m reflecting on Mom. Mom is 89; Sandy is 82. I’ve witnessed Mom’s decline over the past decade. I’ve seen Sandy declining over the past two years. She used to have no problem walking. Always a diminutive person, she seems smaller, thinner, and weaker, and struggles to stand, sit, and walk. Terrible to see.
It affects me because I’m also seeing such a decline happening in my wife. It’s surreal because I’ve had many more medical emergencies and don’t attend to my health as my wife does. I generally bounce back from whatever I endured. Yes, my bounce is not as high these days, and it takes more bounces to get back to close to what I was. My wife, though, is slowing and weakening. She often loses her balance. Her diet and activities are becoming so limited.
All of this reminds me of how impermanent things are. This is true of products, societies, our bodies, our existence. Ground Penetrating Radar finds forgotten settlements. We come across photographs of relatives we never knew about. Genetics and genealogy can fill in blanks about who your ancestors were but it’s typically in broad terms. Names, places, occupations, mostly.
It all finally roosts in me as a reminder to not take things for granted, whether it’s success, health, family, or your government. Nothing really lasts forever. Worse, the ending can come without much warning. As in so many other matters, it’s something which I learned before, and then forgot.
Another jigsaw puzzle was completed last night. I worked this one alone. Started last Saturday night, I finished Thursday evening. It was fun and easy. I enjoy his stylized simplicity, how he minimally incorporates shadows and textures as lines. It’s such a contrast to my style was I was painting and drawing. Somewhat like my fiction writing, I always focus on the interplay of shadows and uncertainty. It reflects my personal philosophy that most life is part of a large band of gray confusion.
Apologies that my photo isn’t sharper and clearer. Those are pumpkins on a wagon above the hat store on the right, and white chickens in the road.
Many more Wysockis were available at the library of things. I’m passing this one on to a friend because I think he’ll enjoy it, and picking up another.
Saturday, January 13, 2024, has arrived with higher temperatures and heavy, wind-driven rain whipping Ashlandia (where the coffee is excellent and the parks are above average). It’s 42 F now, not far from the expected peak of 49 F. Rain has been falling all night, and the misty low, fat clouds look like they have a lot more to give.
The cats both wanted out this morning after their breakfast. Tucker settled in a dry but cold location on the front porch while Papi sought whatever drives him to wander. I managed to coax both back in after thirty minutes. When they came in, both dashed for me and I discovered Papi was soaked. I toweled him off (despite his protests and efforts to flee) and then Papi headed for the kibble station while Tucker went to the litter box.
Left home early, didn’t take the dog (don’t have one) or the cats (I have two). Coffee shop numero uno was at full cap so I went to numero dos. A prime writing location was available so I sat and began. Unfortunately, I discovered that a leak was exploring the ceiling above and splashing down. I alerted the staff and shifted sites. No good writing location was available but I found a table and set up camp. A young guy at my most preferred site. Understanding that I was on a laptop and could use an outlet, he approached and offered it to me. Such kindness. I offered to buy him something as reward but he declined.
One amusing thing was observed. I saw one barista drift through, washing off the unused tables and tidying. About four minutes after she went through, a second one went through, doing the same thing to the same tables.
Very satisfying and uplifting dreams were experienced last night. Hope everyone has such dreams in their life. Thinking about it had The Neurons plug “What Is Life” by George Harrison (1971) intorock the morning mental music stream (Trademark drifting). I get what The Neurons are doing there, because I’d been musing about life since a conversation with a friend about death the other day. Her husband worries about death and fears it. I related back that I didn’t worry about it because we don’t know if there is an ‘other side’ or the full nature of ourselves and our existence. I mean, between religion, science, and philosophy, we’ve developed some great ideas and insights about what it is. But knowledge is ever-evolving, and as we explore the quantum side of being more, we might surprise ourselves with what we learn. “I think, therefore I am,” might even apply to us after we die along paths that we can’t yet divine.
Stay pos, lean forward, remain strong, and test negative. Coffee and its bennies are already perking through my systems. Here is thy theme music. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 