Cars, Changes, and Control: A Dream
I drove into a Trader Joe’s parking lot to park and shop. I was driving my old white BMW 2002, a car I haven’t owned since I left Germany in 1991. It made ‘dream sense’ because I was about the age I was when I owned the car.
The parking lot’s left side was completely empty, bewildering me — why wasn’t anyone parked there? A large sign, facing the wrong way, explained not to park on the left side. Oh.
I moved my car. An older couple, dressed in fancy clothes, was there. I told them as I walked away from my car, “It would help if the sign faced the entrance, you know? Is something going on here today?”
They didn’t answer me but I heard the man saw as I walked away, “He’ll find out.” The woman tittered.
The store was busy inside. I decided to put down my cloth shopping bags for a moment and put them on a chair back by the older couple. Inside, shopping, I decided that I would buy a few things and picked up a frozen dessert that attracted my eye. As I thought about buying a few more things, I remembered that I’d left my shopping bags on that chair and rushed back to get them.
The bags were gone. I searched all over, but they were definitely gone. Morose, I returned inside to buy the frozen dessert.
Going back, my car was parked elsewhere but I knew where. It was also not my white BMW, but my wife’s gray Ford Focus. I went to the car’s right side to get in. Then I stepped back out and looked again where it was parked. The car to the left was so close, that door — which should be the driver’s side door — couldn’t be opened. I thought, it’s a good thing that I don’t drive on that side. Yet, I knew, with some confused reflection, driving is done from the car’s left side, not the right.
I was driving at the point and discovered a passenger, a pregnant young woman reading a book. First, I noticed that the book had my name on the front, but, startled by her presence, I said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t notice you there.”
She replied, “I’m Gail. My daughter was with you when you were driving an SUV in a foreign land, a wild country. She wanted to visit you because she’s worried.”
Driving, I wondered and asked, “Is your daughter born yet?”
Gail answered, “No, but she’s due.”
I then turned left. The road ended and I was suddenly driving through a woods heavy with water puddles and thick, black mud. Gail said, “I want to get out here.”
“No,” I replied. “I don’t know what happened to the road but I’m turning around. I’ll take you back and let you out.”
I whipped the car around and was back on the road in a few seconds. Gail got out. I opened the hatchback to put a bicycle in because I knew it was mine. Then I wondered, why is my bike here?
Dream end.
Mundaz Wandering Thoughts
I park the car and head up the street towards the coffee house. As it happens on other days, four more people are making the same trek. We all share an urgency and focus to our movement. I think again, we’re like ants going toward a piece of food, and amuse myself again, thinking, coffee ants. I can almost picture the others with waving antennae…
Coffee ants. Coffants.
Brewants?
Espressants?
Twozdaz Wandering Thoughts
It’s not an accident that my house keys are always in my right-hand pocket. As part of the setting, we have two cars and one house. My wife and I don’t put our house keys and car keys on one ring. She’s apparently just emulating me. I asked her why she does it, and she told me, “You don’t put them together.”
I don’t put them together because I didn’t like keys bouncing around in the car, making noise as we drove. Attribute that to my misophonia. Certain sounds jar and irritate me. I reacted by segregating the house and car keys to reduce my sound-related irritation. Now it’s my practice to always put the house keys in my right-side pocket. Never in the coat either, but in the pants or shorts I’m wearing. I do not buy pants or shorts without pockets. Not having those pockets is just unacceptable.
Now, the house keys are in the right-side because I’m right-handed. My spouse has a habit of locking the door between the house and garage. She often does it absentmindedly. But after parking and going to enter the house, often with my hands full, it’s easier to free my right hand and pull those keys from my right-side pocket. I don’t need to wonder where they are or shift anything because I know.
See? Everything is connected. Bet you’ll sleep better knowing all that, right?
Sure.
Dark Day
In a blow to many, ‘our’ Starbucks is closing. Starbucks announced this week that they’re closing one percent of its US locations. Today I learned that this one is on the list. Besides this one, two Starbucks are closing in Medford, up the road.
My thoughts first go to the employees. They’ve always been great people, regardless of the corporation hiring them, energetic, intelligent, personable. With other locations closing, getting relocated to another will be a challenge for them.
Second, this will be a blow to the Ashland homeless. This location has always been hospitable to homeless beings and their needs, offering warmth and shelter from rain and snow, and a place to recharge phones and get a glass of water.
The local economy will take a hit from this. Tax revenues will diminish. Unemployment will rise. And we all have one less place to go for coffee and socializing.
For me, this is the fourth coffee shop location to fail while I’ve lived in Ashland. First up was The Beanery. Ironically, it’s location is right across the street from this Starbucks, which was a bank back then. Just a mile from my house, it was my habit to walk to the Beanery and back almost daily, get coffee, socialize a little, write a lot. Great people worked there, too, and the other customers helped create an uplifting vibe. The coffee and pastries were monstrously good, too. It was my routine for over nine years. It ended when The Beanery abruptly closed in May, 2015.
Adjusting, I began frequenting the Boulevard Coffee. The walk was longer, two miles, but it, too, offered a friendly place for a coffee-seeking writer, a place to work and linger. Run by Allison and her husband, it ceased business suddenly in January of 2021. After that, I shifted to Key of C, but it shut down, and then the downtown Starbucks was tried. Both of those were a 2.4 mile walk each way. Other coffee shops opened and were tried, but all shut down. Next up came Noble’s Coffee. It’s still open but it’s further away, and it’s packed. Many times, I wedged myself into part of a counter space to work, hurrying to a table when it came open. That was a frustrating experience.
The pandemic was in full swing by then. I began coming here, to this Starbucks, when businesses began cautiously re-opening with spaces between us. It was basically my only choice. RoCo opened up, a good local place, and I’ll probably shift to there. Smaller, more crowded, it’s not as conducive to my needs and desires. Or, I’ll go back to Noble’s.
This business space will be available. It’s a good location, less than half a mile from here, a middle school, and an elementary school. It’s just a mile from Interstate 5, and draws a lot of business from travelers.
Who knows what will open here? As the manager told me this morning about this Starbucks, its volume doesn’t bring in enough to make the rent. That’s a common problem here, as local landlords gouge businesses. Something else will probably open. A coffee shop? Maybe. Who knows. When is a more difficult question. We have multiple empty business locations in Ashland as tourism, our main industry, takes hit after hit.
Like the employees and other customers, I’ll adjust. It won’t be the same; it never is. But sometimes it works out and becomes a place that’s not the same, but just as good.
I will miss this place. I’ll really miss the people.
Sundaz Wandering Thoughts
I have routines. Mostly moored in sanity and routine, they help me navigate days and night and months, seasons, and years.
The regular recurring four dominate: dressing, eating, exercising writing. Dressing is actually showering, shaving, brushing my teeth, all that. We just call it dressing in our household. Why get bogged down in details? Same with eating. I’m talking about three meals, snacks, etc. All aimed in a healthy direction, based on medical limitations and bodily needs. Cooking or procuring food is part of ‘eating’.
Writing, ditto, is just something burned into every day’s DNA. I passed on it while vacationing recently, a grueling time for me. I kept writing in my head. That’s an activity that takes me out of the moment. So I made fast notes, lopped off the process, and pressed myself back into local, ‘real-world’ events, like going for a walk at sunset and admiring the waves.
But I also have a habit of deciding what three things I will do besides those things. It’s a mental list I assign myself as I talk to my wife and walk around the house each morning. Weather and other plans are taken into account. Like yesterday’s three things was hanging this new hook we purchased to drape a towel on in the bathroom, then dusting and polishing all the wood cabinets and furniture in the kitchen, dining room, foyer, and living room, and tidying paperwork. Today is a lazier day. Wash and shine the car, gas up my wife’s car, yardwork. A bonus offering is clean off some pint containers and drop them off at a friend’s place.
I’ll also read. Surf the net for news and read some fiction. That, too, is just part of my current DNA. Do both of those every day. Pet the cat, of course. Clean up after him. Also DNA-driven. He enforces it, though. Oh, and take a walk. Do that daily as well. Just who I am.
What are your plans and routines for today?
The Optimist
My wife exercises three mornings a week at the local Y. I’m typically abed, reviewing dreams, when she leaves. She normally comes by to say good-bye. I generally wave a foot or hand in acknowledgement.
Well, today, I was buried in sleep and didn’t respond to her. I got up and did all my usual things. As I finished dressing, I heard her arrive home. I didn’t go out and say hello, as I had something going on in my head.
Coming down the hall, she called, “Where are you?”
I didn’t answer but I walked around to meet her. She said with real relief, “Oh, thank God. I saw your car in the garage. Then I didn’t see or hear you anywhere. You didn’t give me a wave when I left this morning. I thought, oh, no, he died and I didn’t notice.”
We laughed but I had to note, “You are such an optimist.”
Twozdaz Theme Music
We’re back home. Vacation is over. Taps was played at midnight to signify the last vacay day was done.
My wife reports she had a great bath and great night’s sleep. She prefers her own fixtures and bed. I slept well at both places. This place is far noisier. By 8 AM, garbage trucks, lawn equipment, and woodchippers were eagerly stressing the silence with their grinding, whirling, and groaning. I heard people walking by on the street speaking. One told her friend about their other friend’s birthday. Another woman was on her cell telling the neighborhood that her car was in the shop and needed a new starter, with additional complaints about this car, a Honda Civic. Airplanes, probably looking for lightning fires, droned overhead. Dogs and crows kept up commentary. Maybe my wife missed all the noise.
Hearing my wife speak about me, it shouldn’t surprise anyone that I slept well. From her tales, my superpower is the ability to sleep anywhere, through anything.
It’s now Twozda. We’ll be lowering the flag on another month of 2025 soon, as this is August 26, 2025. It’ll be in the upper 90s here in Ashlandia.
I wish we were lowering the flag on Trump and his administration. The Offal Office dunce keeps displaying his tyrannical streak and wide-ranging ignorance. He can speak ignorantly about everything and anything, doing so eagerly and willingly at every fart of the wind. States have no rights unless they fall in line with his corkscrew thinking. In his latest attacks on our checks and balances, he and his administration sued judges because they keep ruling against him. This, according to them, is bad, because he is the POTUS. Man, that sickens and shames me to write that. Had to swallow some breakfast back down. The way he acts and from his representatives’ speech, they lack interest or comprehension in the three branches of the Federal government. Trump as POTUS is the only Federal office, and Trump as POTUS is the only person with any skills or leadership, to hear them tell it. To the rest of us, he has no skills, and his leadership is like a turd swirling down the toilet’s throat when the commode is flushed.
Papi the magnificent ginger boi who graces me with his presence cheered me up this AM. Chirps and purrs were exchanged with treats and petting. What a sweetheart. I credit him with setting me right and reminding me to live in the moment. The reminder stirred The Neurons to dig into their chambers and pull up a 2018 song by Portugal. The Man called “Live in the Moment”. As it played in the morning mental music stream, I pet my boi and sang along to him. He quickly bored of this and crossed the room to settle down and watch me from a more comfortable distance.
Coffee has restored me to the moment. Hope grace and peace feed your moments today and every day. Here we go again. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 