Ashland, southern Oregon — Wednesday, October 21, 2026.
We’re in the grip of a cool but sunny autumn day. 69 F at this point, they’re telling us our temperatures will climb to 75 today.
Despite cloud layers, I do believe it’s possible. We never got out of the sixties yesterday despite a forecast for a high in the mid 70s.
I had a blizzard of texts and phone calls this morning. Mom was responsible for eight of them. I spoke with her on the phone for 30 minutes. She wanted to vent about her situation at the nursing home, how other residents have family visiting her. Mom also complained about my sister, Gina, and her frustration with getting various supplies. A lot of it was just having an outlet, I think. I talked her down a bit, but it won’t last long. Frustrated, bitter, angry, lonely, she needs to spill it with someone.
I have “Spiderwebs” by No Doubt in my morning mental music stream again today. It started with thoughts about the web of phone calls, texts — and relationships.
Then there was the Vee incident.
This is Vee.
Vee is a friendly little feline visitor. In this photo, she’s sitting on our bathroom sink. She comes every day and often sleeps in our backyard. Despite this, we sincerely believe she has people. I think she lives in the nearby apartment building but has people who work and/or go to school. Vee usually shows about 9 AM and hangs around until about 8 PM. Some days, she shows later. Other days, she doesn’t show at all.
Vee is short for Visitor and is but one of her names. My wife observed that with those eye markings, Vee could also be called Cleo, short for Cleopatra. I also call her Bandit and Mooch. With her sweet nature, she responds to all of it.
The other day, though, Vee was visiting in our home office where my wife was busy on her laptop. My wife witnessed Vee watch a spider dash across the floor. We have a strict no-kill policy, so spiders aren’t unusual.
Well, Vee’s tail dropped and she took off. Later that day, she refused to re-enter the office. That went on for several days. She finally crept in, looking all around for signs of a spider. We figure she must have had some nasty spider episode that shaped her behavior.
Secondly, adding to my spider web thinking, is politically. We’re in a web of hate, corruption, and grift with Trump. Every day we hear Trump spinning more lies. Trump gets completely tangled up in them but lies about what he said, bullying and threatening anyone who reminded him of what he said.
With that stack in my head, “Spiderwebs” was put in the morning mental music stream.
Hope your day goes without any shitstorms and you eat well, sleep well, and live well in peace and joy.
Ashland, southern Oregon — Tuesday, October 20, 2026.
Last night felt wintry cold outside. Today sits at 66 F under clouds mixing it up with sunshine. The clouds are a chaotic shapes in blues, gray, whites. We expect a high of 75 for this autumn day in the valley.
Mom launched a new barrage of texts and phone calls at me last night. I’d just returned from my third BCG wash and was feeling this one. My energy level was plundered and I was nauseous. Had some burning urinating, and many sudden urges to pee that ended with weak, short trickles. Nuts. Price to pay to get better, of course, and preferable to the alternative.
But that left me ill-prepared for Mom. Just wasn’t up to it. She was texting and calling again about how much pain she’s in and how mad she is with Gina, going into the details of why she’s mad at the only one of her daughters willing to help and visit. Mom finished with the now classic, “If none of the three daughters who live near me want to take me to the doctors, then I don’t want to go.”
Mom has employed that line so many times over the last year, it sincerely *cringe* reminds me of Donald Trump declaring, “We already won the war. I can end it any time I want.” The repetition dilutes their claims’ impact.
I sent Mom a text and basically excused myself from participating due to how I felt, but sent a text to my sisters as well.
And this is life, isn’t it? Sometimes you want sunny skies and get pouring rain. And I shouldn’t complain. It hasn’t rained much in my life. Many, many others have endured much, much, much worse.
Thinking about my childhood much frequently. I attribute it to a combination of Dad’s death last year, Mom’s declining health, my own health matters, along with my wife’s, but also, to history.
Back in my youth, we lived under the threat of nuclear war with China (PRC) and the USSR (Soviet Union, Warsaw Pact). Then the Berlin wall fell. We were supposed to enjoy a peace dividend. That never really came. Much of our foreign policy approaches didn’t change much. Russia replaced the USSR as a major threat and the PRC was still out there.
Now we find Donald Trump aiding Russia. Trump is shaping foreign policy based on his polling woes and fears that he’ll lose the upcoming elections.
Meanwhile, in our schools, children are shot and killed. Few do much about it except dissect what happened and put a spotlight on the killer, victims, and heroes. Then we move on to the next crisis du jour.
With Donald Trump orchestrating matters, there’s always a crisis. His solutions are often short-sighted. They frequently focus on symptoms. They rarely correlate to facts, truth, and history.
These are the days in which we now live.
With all that churning my thinking, The Neurons responded with a Queen song. “These Are the Days of Our Lives” was released in 1991, one of the last songs Freddie Mercury sang with the group before his death.
Searching for a suitable video today, I came up with one featuring Queen with George Michael and Lisa Stansfield.
Sample Lyrics
Sometimes I get to feeling I was back in the old days long ago When we were kids, when we were young Things seemed so perfect, you know?
The days were endless, we were crazy, we were young The sun was always shining, we just lived for fun
Sometimes it seems like lately I just don’t know The rest of my life’s been just a show
I hope the weather accommodates your mood, and your spirit carries you to happy times.
Ashland, southern Oregon – Tuesday, October 13, 2026.
Gorgeous, full-throttled autumn day out there. All of nature is actively participating to give us the full fall experience of changing leaves, blue sky, and crisp morning air. We’re going to heat up to 70 today and expect a warming trend for the coming weekend.
Mom is still doing poorly. Mom complained that she was out of pads and feeling a lot of pain urinating, and several other issues. We discovered that she doesn’t tell the assisted living staff any of that, due to her sense of privacy. There are people who can help her with her issues, but she doesn’t tell them she’s having issues, so they don’t offer help.
My sister went over today with new pads and to check on Mom. Found her in the rec room with others. Gina reported that Mom is very lethargic. Mom’s room smelled like urine. Gina has been going back and forth with the assisted living director, Mom, and Mom’s doctors. Gina has also delved more deeply into Mom’s medical records on Mychart.
It’s a busy morning for us. Workmen were expected to arrive and fix the flashing around the bathroom skylight and a few other minor issues on the roof. They were expected between 9 and 10 but didn’t show.
Meanwhile, I’d scheduled the same time for a contractor to come by to inspect the fence and give us assessment about what needs done, if he’ll take the job, and all the details that go with it. He showed on time and that went well. The fence is in pretty good shape overall, with just three posts requiring replacement. He will do those repairs, power wash the fence, and then paint it.
After that, I called the roofers to see what was going on. The other job they were on took longer than planned. They just arrived at 12:30 to begin the work.
My doctor’s office called and told me the Cologuard results were in. My tests were positive, so they’re going to schedule me for some tests and surgery to see if I have colon or other kinds of cancer down there.
My wife is in a cranky mood. She has a nervous disposition and high anxiety and couldn’t sleep last night because of today’s appointments. So it’s one of those if it’s not one thing, it’s another kind of days so far. All in all, it’s still a better life than many others experience. I complain because that’s who I am.
Probably won’t be able to get out and write today, though, which is a bummer. That’s my escape from the insanity, my coping mechanism. I will write at home but it’s not quite the same. For one, I enjoy the coffee shop’s helter skelter energy. Two, when I write at home, my wife often interrupts. She will actually ask, “Can I interrupt you?” Yeah, I’m a curmudgeon of sorts. *smile*
Today’s music is “Where Is My Husband!” This is a 2025 song by Raye. It played on the radio yesterday morning as my wife and I did our food deliveries. I ‘adapted’ it to “Where Is My Congress?” The Neurons like that twist and kept it in the morning mental music stream.
I enjoy the song on its own, though. Here’s the sample lyrics for you.
Sample Lyrics
Baby (whoo-hoo), where the hell is my husband? (Whoo-hoo) What is taking him so long (whoo-hoo) to find me? Oh, baby, where the hell is my lover? Getting down with another? (Whoo-hoo, yeah) Tell him if you see him, baby, if you see him Tell him, tell him he should holler
Why is this beautiful man waiting for me to get old? Why he already testing my patience? I only fear he’s taking time with other women that ain’t me While I’ve been reviewing applications
Wait ’til I get my hands on him, I’ma tell him off too For how long he kept mе waiting, anticipating Praying to the Lord to give him to my loving arms And despite my frustrations
He must need me (he must need me) completely (completely) How my heart yearns for him Is he far away (is he far away?), is he okay? (Is he okay?) This man is testing me, uh-huh, uh-huh Uh, help me, help me, help me, Lord
Of course, yesterday morning, I was singing, “Where the hell is my Congress!” Then I created other lyrics.
May this day find you healthy, peaceful, and ready to vote blue and take the nation back.
Tuesday, September 1, 2025. Ashland, southern Oregon.
September arrived in Ashland, bringing colder weather. 58 F now, our projected high is 72 today with 72% chance of thunderstorms. Tomorrow is expected to top out at 60 F, with 98% chance of rain. So rain will come at last.
Meanwhile, most of the United States east of the Rockies to the Atlantic, north to Canada and south to the Gulf of Mexico, are enduring a heat wave
I’m a bit dispirited today. Another friend has prostate cancer. And Mom sent me a lengthy text last night.Another of my sisters, Lisa, took Mom new checks, along with a new tee-shirt and sweater. Mom told me that she felt chest pains yesterday and rested in bed. Also told me that it takes her three hours to get ready for bed. If true, that’s actually reduced from the three hours she required for several years. I was always astonished when visiting her and she would announce, “I need to get ready for bed.” She usually went to bed at midnight but began getting ready at 8:30.
Today, Mom texted me to ask, “Should I use my old checks to pay my rent?” I just went over that with her last Friday. So did two of my sisters.
Instead, we have Trump offering a cartoonish AI-generated video of blowing up Kharg Island, declaring it’s “blown to smithereens”.
Like, wow. How old are you, grandpa? I know the expression but I’ve honestly don’t think I’ve heard it in years, maybe decades. It’s extremely bizarre to hear it said by an adult while discussing a war. I mean, it’s such a childish expression.
It’s a useful video for Trump, however. As part of Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL!, Trump’s video has us wondering about his word choices and sanity, instead of dwelling on the continuing affordability crisis, or his lies, corruption, and general incompetence.
There are no reports that Kharg Island has been ‘blown to smithereens’. A US military official in fact said it was not targeted.
Your Trump Quote of the Day:
Yes, I’ve used that quote before. But it’s important, I think, to remember that when Trump was running for office in 2024, he blamed President Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris for bombs falling in the middle east — Gaza. He was arguing that the Biden administration had produced exactly the things he said a Trump presidency would prevent. Then he won, took office, and started war after claiming he would prevent wars, causing the inflation and rising prices which he claimed he would prevent.
Infuriating as hell.
Meanwhile, the Roberts Court said Trump could proceed building the Epstein ballroom. They avoided saying that it was legal for Trump to tear down a wing of the White House and start building something else without funds approved by Congress. That’s perfectly aligned with the weak principles of the Roberts Court. Equally, Roberts was part of the dissent, which is particularly laughable. He was basically bemoaning what the monster he helped create was doing.
Trump’s use of smithereens provoked My Neurons to bring up songs by the Smithereens. Among the songs in my morning mental music stream was “Only A Memory”. The 1988 song is about love, memory, loss, and history. As I have no love for Trump and wish he was history, it seems like a fine song for today.
I hope your spirits are high and your hopes are strong, and that you have the fortitude to overcome whatever is thrown your way.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Friday, August 28, 2026.
Another cooler day graces our valley with temperatures rising from 70 now to the low 80s later, all Fahrenheit. Signs of autumn are creeping in beyond temperatures as maples are already shifting colors.
Mom finally responded late yesterday to tell me she’s feeling much better, a relief for my mind.
We did grocery shopping yesterday and then went out to see the lunar eclipse. Success, as I saw it twice, once in the evening, and again in the middle of the night. I took some tme to imagine how our ancient ancestors viewed these things. Cool and clear, being out under the stars, watching the moon felt rewarding.
Then it was a night of dreams and a morning of texts with my sisters. My sister, Gina, is going through all of Mom’s letters from Mom’s mother, and it’s a revealation. Gina photographs and texts the letters to us. I honestly don’t recognize many of the names my grandmother writes about. I never met those people and never heard about them.
Vee also visited last night and today. Vee is for visitor, but my wife calls the gray and white tabby because of the lining around the cat’s eyes.
Saw on the net that some are calling for Dolly Parton day. I support the idea. Dolly left a solid impression of what a good person can be. She’s someone worth celebrating and emulating.
Meanwhile, down on the other end of people and personalities, we have Donald Trump. Trump has established himself as Exhibit A in multiple categories of what They Tell Us Not to Be: a liar, greedy, womanizer, racist, hateful, sexist, hot tempered, and a bully. Besides showing poor math skills and cheating on contractors and wives, he craves attention and hates criticism.
This week, continuing to break norms, ignore treaties, and playing a wannabe dictator, Trump declared Lake Ontario would be known as Lake America.
Your Trump Quote of the Day:
Trump has half of what he says it takes, because people keep giving him pens.
Trying to rename Lake Ontario is another of Trump’s Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! distractions to me.
Continuing a year of failures, he has the mess at the White House, where he screwed up the lawn and demolished the East Wing for a ballroom. First he claimed that ballroom was ‘needed’. Then he said it was a monument for himself. Also, he kept insisting donors are paying for it. Then, oh, no, that ballroom is for national security.
Take his tariffs — please. Up and down, off and on, insisting how great they’re making the economy. But boom — unemployment is level but so is employment. More Americans should be working, and they’re not. Further, thanks to Trump, we have price increases, and a national debt that’s past $40 trillion for the first time in history. Way to go, Trump!
The national debt isn’t just Trump’s fault. The Spend Without End GOP shares a huge share of responsibility. They let Trump blow through money without employing any checks and balances. So long as Trump is in office and the GOP lets him get away with it, the national debt will worsen. Mind you, that’s despite Trump’s claims that he’s cut so much fraud and waste.
Part of that Republican spending spree is on the useless, unneeded war in Iran. Not only is it costing the world in terms of lives and energy, but it’s costing the United States in tangible and intangible ways. Tangibly, we, the world’s most powerful military, has managed to do little but kill people and blow things up. That’s largely because Trump attacked Iran with little planning and no tangible objectives.
On the more intangible side, other nations like China and Russia are noting how inept the military is under Trump, encouraging them to make moves with hard and soft power.
But Trump babbles on, and the GOP stands in line behind him.
What’s worse is the effect of the current situation. We have rising prices, rising bond rates, rising mortgage rates, flat unemployment, rising national debt, anemic job growth and the spectre of rising AI use. Stacked with Trump’s war in Iran, Trump’s erractic behavior and pronouncements, and the upcoming midterms, we’re facing a very uncertain future in the US.
Then add in climate and the expected super El Nino this winter, and brace yourself. This could be a wild roller-coaster ride.
With all this going on, Les Neurons have “Life During Wartime” playing in the morning mental music stream. The 1979 Talking Heads song is about surviving in a dystopian period. Such survival to extreme changes requires a lot of adaptation, and that might be where we’re heading soon.
Sample Lyrics
Heard about Houston? Heard about Detroit? Heard about Pittsburgh, PA? You oughta know not to stand by the window Somebody see you up there
I got some groceries, some peanut butter To last a couple of days But I ain’t got no speakers, ain’t got no headphones Ain’t got no records to play
Why stay in college? Why go to night school? Gonna be different this time? Can’t write a letter, can’t send no postcard I ain’t got time for that now
Trouble in transit, got through the roadblock We blended in with the crowd We got computers, we’re tapping phone lines I know that that ain’t allowed
We dress like students, we dress like housewives Or in a suit and a tie I changed my hairstyle so many times now I don’t know what I look like
You make me shiver, I feel so tender We make a pretty good team Don’t get exhausted, I’ll do some driving You ought to get you some sleep
Burned all my notebooks, what good are notebooks? They won’t help me survive My chest is aching, burns like a furnace The burning keeps me alive
May this day and the days to come treat you with peace and grace as you ride the roller coaster of life.
One of them is barely recalled. It’s one of those episodic dreams I sometimes have, where there’s no one who I recognize as me. It’s just a story being told, like a television show.
I remember just part of a second one. Three other men and I were traveling together in an early 1960s something Cadillac convertible. We drove through sunshine with the top down. I was very impressed for some reason that there were four of us, two blacks and two whites. I believe we took turns driving.
We wore a uniform, and I knew we were on the same team but have no idea what team. From what I remember of the uniforms, they were white with dazzling embroidery, like something Elvis Presley would wear in concert.
Hungry, we stopped at a place where we decided we would pretend to be lawyers. We thought that ruse would gain us some food because we didn’t have any money. That didn’t seem to work so we drove cheerfully on through a winding orange canyon to another town.
We decided this time to claim that we were reporters. Women were running this place. One large, barrel-chested blonde woman was in charge. She mocked our claim that we were reporters, but they fed us anyway.
Dream end
Third dream involved family and food. I was with my sisters at some gathering at someone’s home. We were outside for most of the dream, where, weirdly, my sisters were baking. Besides them, there were many children. I barely knew most of them and didn’t recognize them from real life.
I needed an engine for some reason and ended up with a V8 engine with headers, a high rise manifold with a single four-barrel carb. The engine block was painted bright blue, and the air filter cover was chrome plated. After I got the engine, I realized, “I don’t need this.” But I wanted to save it. So I picked it up and put it in one of the rooms. I thought, I’ll leave that here for now but I’ll need to move it later.
My sisters and I talked a little politics. Then one announced, it’s time to eat. We got trays and loaded them up.
As I did, I went to cross the patio. Four tiny, perfect silver and black tabby kittens were playing. They’d found something and pounced on it, batting whatever it was with furious energy. I swear, these kittens were no more than three inches long.
My older sister asked me what I was doing and I showed her the kittens. She watched with me a bit, then I moved the kittens so they’d be safe.
The children and I decided to watch television. I wanted to watch football. I knew it was Sunday and games should be on, because of the time. No games were on, confusing me. I did the math: back home, the games start at 10 AM and it was almost 1 here, so there should have been a game on.
I went back to eat more cookies. My youngest sister was still baking. I walked along long tables mounded with food and wondered, laughing, why is she baking more? I ate a few cookies, which was delicious.
One brother-in-law, the Trump-loving one, was present, stretched out on a dark-brown sofa, talking. I wanted to hear what he said, but a plastic cocoon formed over him, sealing him in. I could hear him still talking but it was only a rumble of sound, and couldn’t see him at all.
Getting another cookie and eating it, my little sister demanded in her ominous ‘mom-voice’, “What are you doing?”
Laughing, I replied, “Eating a cookie? Why are you making more? Do you know you how many cookies there are?”
I saw her move the V8 engine which I’d move. I went over and picked it up to take it away, but then didn’t know where to take it.
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.
I was with several of my sisters. We were all younger than now.
Don’t know where we exactly were. Outside. Mostly flat and sort of muddy to start.
I’d been off doing something and then returned, looking for them, as it was time to go. I found them by a large broken cement sewer pipe coming out of the base of a dirt hill. Multiple bottles and trash was there.
One of the sisters asked, “Michael, can you help us? We want to clean up these bottles but we don’t know how.”
They had two large plastic containers with a spout on top. Way too small to put the bottles in. So I tore the top of the plastic away. They thanked me and we loaded the bottles up, often breaking them. Some bottles were already broken. As they warned me to be careful, I picked up the bottles and put them in the plastic. Then I carried those away, depositing them somewhere safe.
I was ready to go, so I began walking. My sisters were several hundred yards away. I wanted time to myself. Deciding to avoid them, I began running. My sisters called my name: I ignored them, running faster.
I crossed the muddy plain and then ended up on a highway’s wide shoulder. Traffic was heavy to my right. Dusk was coming. Left was a lot of new constructions: houses and stores were being built, but was suspended for the night.
I thought, wow, that’s a lot of construction. The construction and changes threw me off. I hadn’t been in the area for a while. Confused about where I was going, I decided to go back to my sisters.
Turning around, I gawked with some amazement. I hadn’t realized how far and fast I’d run. Running back, my speed amazed me even more.
I reached the spot where I’d last seen my sisters. They weren’t visible. I called them; no answer.
Then I found them, along with their previous husbands, and more of my family. I looked for my wife but she wasn’t there. I saw my younger sister’s ex-husband, JJ, and said hello to him, adding, “Good to see you.”
The group told me we were going to Sharon and John’s. She’s my sister and that’s her husband. Then the group kind of wandered around, dawdling. Impatient, I went to Sharon and John’s house.
It was a small place. In the dining room was a large oval, polished wood table. Arrayed in front of it on one side were three rows of seven baby highchairs. They were different colors and ages. Each had a placard on it.
I was mystified. Like, what’s going on here? Is this where they expected us – adults – to sit? We wouldn’t fit in those chairs. No, they seemed to be set up for something. Classes for children?
Then the chairs rearranged themselves. Many disappeared. Matthew Perry was seated at one of the tables. Reprising his role as Chandler Bing from “Friends”, he did a few scenes. Except, he was the size of a baby.
John came in. I said, “How was that done,” gesturing to Perry/Bing in a highchair. John explained, “Oh, that’s Matthew Perry. He was in “Friends”.”
I answered, “I know all that, but that’s not him. That’s the size of a child. Is that a puppet? Animation?” It was completely lifelike.
We went back and forth, with John explaining the same thing in almost the same ways. I kept asking questions, trying to clarify it, but never got an answer. My sister came in, interrupting us to announce that there were sandwiches in the other room.
Hot today, but not overly so, with 90 F as the top end. It’s wildfire smoke knocking us down today. Smoke limits the view out the front; we can barely see the valley past the trees across the street, a sight I normally contemplate as I make breafast.
The East Evans Creek has been going on and growing for several days. Started when a car hit a power line, people have been evacuated from several of the surrounding areas.
‘Back east’ as the expression goes, in Pittsburgh, PA, my sisters are complaining about the Canadian wildfire smoke saturating their region. Can’t breathe, they note; gives you an instant headache. One brother-in-law stayed out there yesterday and lost his voice. Surprised that he was out there, as he was stented several years ago and then went through open-heart surgery. On the other hand, he is a MAGAt.
Get ready for more Trump-inspired price increases! Ha, ha, just kidding!
Coffee is already trading at historically high prices. Last time Trump put a tariff on products from Brazil in 2025, the fallout from high coffee prices politically hurt him. So he exempted food, coffee, and oil this time. It’s only things used in construction, like steel and wood. So housing costs will go up. No problem, right?
Today’s song in the morning mental music stream is “American Jesus”. Came out over a few handfuls of years ago. By Bad Religion, it’s an anti-war song inspired when President George Dubya Bush said during the Gulf War, “‘We’ll win, because God is on our side!”
Fortunately, we have Trump, a genius among geniuses, in the Oval House and he’s learn all the lessons from that war because he’s the smartest man in the universe’s entire existence. Sorry, I gagged and puked writing that bit of snark.
May your day go well, your health be strong, and your food be tasty.
