Some Good News

I first learned about this from Representative Pam Marsh, Ashland’s citizen elected to serve in Oregon’s state legislature.

Here is the KOBI 5 article and a link to it. I think it’s something worth celebrating in this age of Trump, the Golden Age of Corruption, and also the Golden Age of Science Denial.

Oregon’s first floating solar project unveiled in Jackson Co.

CENTRAL POINT, Ore. – On Friday, several organizations as well as U.S. Senator Jeff Merkley, gathered as the state’s first floating solar project went online. The project aims to deliver affordable, renewable energy while also conserving water.

1,700 solar panels have been mounted on water-safe floating platforms on Medford Irrigation District’s reservoir in Central Point. These panels will be able to supply energy to families and businesses in Jackson County, lowering energy costs and creating revenue for the irrigation district.

Not only that, but the panels also shade the reservoir which can preserve water in the warmer months. It can also improve water quality by slowing algae and weed growth. Being the first of its kind here, it will be studied for other communities facing similar issues of high energy bills and drought. Julie O’Shea, executive director for Farmers Conservation Alliance said,

“This project benefits Medford Irrigation District and their strategies and plans to be able to modernize their irrigation infrastructure which is so critical when we’re facing the drought we’re facing this year. And we’re hoping [to] save water from preventing evaporation and so many other benefits. There’s many other irrigation communities in the state and across the west working on floating solar projects right now.”

Many organizations are behind the project, including the Medford Irrigation District, Energy Trust of Oregon, Farmers Conservation Alliance, Imagine Energy and more. More general and subscription information can be found online.

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Pam also noted, “It’s a project with multiple benefits that will also generate a funding stream of $75,000 a year to the district.”

Sunday’s Theme Music – Days like this

Ashland, southern Oregon — Sunday, May 10, 2026.

Happy Mother’s Day to the mothers in the United States. Oh, what the heck, make it to the mothers of the world, no matter your religion, nationality, or species.

It’s 65 F in Ashland with light clouds mildly blocking the sunshine. Our high will hit the upper 70s, giving us pleasant holiday weather.

I’d written a post earlier. Edge crashed, taking the post with it. WordPress hadn’t ‘autosaved’ it, so there was nothing to show that I’d been typing and thinking. Foolishly, I hadn’t saved it myself.

After that, I decided, I’m taking a hiatus from thinking about the news today and commenting on it. Do a MDB: Mother’s Day Blackout.

That’s when the 1995 Van Morrison song entered the morning mental music stream. I retired from the US Air Force in ’95. I heard this song on the radio in one of the first few days of life after wearing a military uniform for twenty years.

I wasn’t employed for the first time since 1974. Wasn’t really looking yet, either; I had my retirement pension. My wife was getting antsy, though. Still, I’d decided to take time off for myself. There would be other days for work.

That happened in early November. By December, I was employed and was fortunate to remain employed for another twenty years.

Today has a similar vibe to my memory of that 1995 day. Look at how over thirty years have passed, and here I sit, feeling like I’m at another threshold. Then again, every day is another threshold.

Remembered Lyrics

When you don’t need to worry there’ll be days like this
When no one’s in a hurry there’ll be days like this
When you don’t get betrayed by that old Judas kiss
Oh my mama told me there’ll be days like this

When you don’t need an answer there’ll be days like this
When you don’t meet a chancer there’ll be days like this

When all the parts of the puzzle start to look like they fit
Then I must remember there’ll be days like this

Hope your Mother’s Day is a good day for you and yours, no matter your sex, gender, whatever. Just celebrate the day, rejoice in what is, and make something to build in.

Coffee is here. Cheers

This Old Thing

My wife carries a small Casio calculator in her purse.

Solar-powered, made of black and gold plastic and black vinyl, the calculator folds. When it’s folded, it’s about the size of a credit card and is as thick as two stacked cards. We bought it for a few hundred yen when we lived in Japan on Okinawa between 1981 and 1985.

Actual size.

We used it last night to balance the checkbook. As we finished, we talked to each other about how amazing it was that the little inexpensive still worked. Back then, the yen to dollar ratio was about 234 to 1.

Over forty years later, it’s a little worn but works perfectly. As I reflected on that, I wondered how many other things I’d ever owned that I could say the same about.

Old Humor – Amazon Echo Silver

My sister and I were talking about how Mom sometimes talks to Alexa as if it’s a person. That reminded me of this old SNL skit. Hope you laugh as much as I did.

Cheers

The Comparison: Computer, Trump

It feels like my computer is starting to treat me like it’s Trump. It doesn’t tell me what’s going on or give me a reliable time window.

I’m accustomed to my computer telling me to do things but explaining why it’s doing things. They gave me options: do you want to update and shutdown, or shutdown without updating? Other options were also available.

Along those lines, the computer would inform me about how long it would take — three minutes, two minutes, six.

Yes, they were using computer time. This is not ordinary time. Comparable times are shopping time and waiting time.

“It’ll be just a minute,” I hear. “Maybe two.” Those minutes compound into ten. Fifteen.

Worse, though, are NFL minutes. Especially the last two minutes of a half or game. I did some research and the average final two minutes of an NFL game lasts ten to twenty minutes. Some estimates show that the final two minutes of a four-quarter NFL football game can consume about five to ten percent of the game’s total time, which is wild if you think about it.

The NFL does give us a ‘two-minute warning’. Unfortunately, they’re very terse about it. “This is the two-minute warning.” They should add, “The next two minutes can take anywhere from two and half minutes to eternity. Go use the restroom now, get something to eat and drink, and let your family know where you are.”

Computer time has now overtaken the NFL’s final time minutes as ‘the time that can’t be measured’. My computer doesn’t tell me many times now how long updates or searches will take. It leaves it vague: “This might take a few minutes.”

You think?

I was running a process to check for memory leaks the other night. Yes, on my computer, not for me.

Anyway, the computer warned me, “This might take a few minutes.”

Thirty minutes later, I was still waiting for an update.

And that’s like Trump. Time doesn’t mean anything when he makes promises or projections. Well, neither do facts, for the most part.

For example: Trump was asked when he would come up with his replacement for ACA. Two weeks, he told us, over five years ago.

When will the Iran war end? “When I feel it in my bones.”

Great.

Sounds just like my computer.

When will the search be finished?

“When I feel it in my hardware.”

Thank you for your attention to this matter!

My Young Friend’s Thoughts

A young friend wrote this email and sent it out to our group last night.

::sigh:: I feel particularly human today. As I sit at the white kitchen table in front of my computer screen, the light of our day star shines through a faceted crystal as it twirls in the open window, scattering little rainbows everywhere as if the sun is giving me a way to appreciate its beauty without hurting my eyes. I look at the spectrum of visible colors dancing around me and sit with the mirrored spectrum of feelings I’m experiencing today. 

Homo sapiens have officially traveled farther away from our blue planet than ever before, and I am beaming with pride for that collective achievement. The Artemis II team represents the best we have to offer, and this mission to push beyond our earthly constraints and explore out into the unknown is the very essence of what it means to be human. NASA’s “Earthset” image was the first thing I saw on my Instagram feed when I woke up this morning, and it genuinely brought me joy to share in a new view of our home world and where we are in the cosmos that has never before been seen or captured by human eyes. This is a monumental moment, and I love it. 

Then I saw the list of collaborators on the Instagram post: @nasa, @potus, and @whitehouse. My joy rapidly receded and was replaced by other equal and opposite emotions. Here we’ve got a team of brilliant, dedicated, model humans bravely taking us to the frontier of exploration, and their massive accomplishments are getting co-opted by a demented, cowardly, serial grifter and his pandering White House that exists only to stroke his rotting, intumescent ego. The most anti-science, anti-woman, anti-diversity, anti-progress regime our modern nation has ever suffered is basking in the achievements of people they vocally despise while they try to cut $5.6 billion (23%) of NASA’s budget, a move that would slash their science program in half. The first woman to fly on a moon-bound mission is currently out there making human history on a spacecraft named after a Greek goddess that represented and defended everything quintessentially female, while at home, white Christian nationalists who advocate for ending women’s suffrage and support “biblical patriarchy” are leading prayer services at the Pentagon and gaining political power. The first Black astronaut ever to be sent on a lunar mission is piloting our future into the stars, while an alcoholic, abusive, lascivious, vapid, Fox News host whose greatest recent accomplishment is not sexually assaulting anyone this week, fires Black service members because “woke”. Kind, thoughtful, smart people are out there in the lifeless vacuum of space naming a bright spot on the previously unexplored dark side of the moon after a person they loved and lost, while down here, a senile, malignanat narcissist who rapes kids threatens to wipe out “a whole civilization” in the war he started so he and his billionare buddies could stay out of prison and make disgusting sums of money while helping Israel genocide their way into an exciting new realestate opportunity. This is a monumental moment, and I hate it.    

This is what I mean by feeling particularly human today. I’m feeling absolutely everything right now and it’s wonderful, and horrible, and joyous, and infuriating, and inspirational, and disgusting, and just, overwhelming. And here we all sit today, uncertain of the future because our collective fates lie in the tiny, decaying hands of a greedy, failed business man with a full diaper and an empty heart. There’s a nonzero chance that everything changes today, and I wanted to share my perspective in case anyone else was feeling the gravity of this moment in a similar way but hadn’t expressed it. I love this planet with everything I have, but I hate the world we’ve made.    

Internetus Interruptus

Our Internet connection was down this weekend. Started Saturday and dragged through Sunday.

We use Ashland Home Net. Owned by the city, we want to support our city. The service has been reliable. Like everything, though, there can sometimes be outages.

The net went down Saturday afternoon. We gave it time to come back up. Didn’t. So — reboot system. Still no connectivity.

I called our service provider and left a message. It’s a small organization and they don’t have someone in the office at night and on weekends. But they check their messages and get back to you.

They did get back to us on Sunday. We were out. I had my cell phone with me. “Private number” it said. I ignored it. Later, I listened to the message, which was Ashland Home Net telling me that they couldn’t find a record of our account.

*grumble grumble*

When we were home after our Easter festivities with friends, I pulled our records to call Ashland Home Net and give them our account number. The folder had notes from previous issues and fixes. This included one from 2023: “Netgear router inadvertently reset (button on side — beware).” I had the Netgear instruction pamphlet attached to the folder.

Aha.

I pulled out the pamphlet, followed the instructions, and got us back online.

I also called Ashland Home Net and gave them our account number, just to close that loop. And they called back, apologized for not being able to find us, baffled by that side of it, confirming that we were online again and weren’t experiencing any more interruptus.

Normal online life resumed.

Expectations Met

I tried logging into Gmail this morning.

This page came up:

“We’re sorry, but your account is temporarily unavailable. We apologize for the inconvenience and suggest trying again in a few minutes. You can view the Google Workspace Status Dashboard for the current status of the service.

If the issue persists, please visit the Help Center »

Well, hell.

The “Google Workspace Status Dashboard” shows a green checkmark for the current status. Everything is working fine.

Just as I expected.

It’s just me.

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