Little Things

My surgery has been over for hours. After catching up on sleep, I’m ravenous because I haven’t had food since ten last night. With a diet limited to cold soft foods, I’m eating sorbet and thinking about what I can eat.

My wife begins reading an article aloud. “Women are having problems creating intimate relationships with men because of men’s addiction to porn.” One part is about a woman asking men if they watch porn. They deny it until she shares what kind of porn she likes.

The story swerves into men spending hours in the bathroom. The writer mocks the idea that they’re having long bowel movements and mentions they probably wouldn’t be in there that long without their phones.

“They’re watching porn on their phones?” I ask.

My wife nods.

“I don’t get that. What in the world would you be able to see on that little screen?”

“I know.” My wife points at our television. “We have that big screen. I watch carefully and feel like I still miss a lot.”

“Yes, and people watch sports on their phones, too. I don’t get that. During football games, they’re always blowing up scenes to show, is the knee down? Was his toe out of bounds?”

“How do people see these things on phone screen?” my wife responds.

“Exactly.”

My wife puts her feet up and closes her eyes. It’s been a long day for her. She had to go in with me and stay for the entire surgery, then drive me home.

I finish my sorbet and wonder what to eat next that’s cold and soft and fantasize about a hot bowl of chile.

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Wednesday, February 11, 2026, and it feels like spring is launching in Ashland. Let’s call it a false spring. 51 F with unchallenged blue skies and sunshine, 60 F is the expected high. Papi would be so happy, except a balmy breeze, which chases him back inside to nap his misery away.

I have dental surgery tomorrow, disrupting the normal flow, and spent time this morning responding to texts about Mom’s mental issues. Connecting dots, my thoughts turned toward an overheard conversation from yesterday.

Sitting in the coffee shop, typing and thinking, two women of about my age shared a table to my right. Music and conversations were cooking but now the room was empty. The two women’s conversation floated to me through the sudden quiet.

One chatted for a while about health concerns regarding her mother, daughter, and herself. The tone changed a little as the other one talked about her concerns over Trump’s policies, ICE, and the general news tone, which she referenced as ‘disturbing’.

The first woman agreed with her and they both addressed concerns about being tired and depressed. Then they touched hands and smiled, telling each other how much it meant to meet and have moments like this.

I studiously tried to stay out of their circle. But one glanced at me and smiled as they rose to leave. Smiling back, I said, “I hope you have a beautiful day.” Thanking me, she wished the same for me.

Their conversation resonated because it feels like an echo of my life, and other people I know. We’re all sailors trying to navigate change. Some of it is about aging, maturing, dying, not necessarily depressing but certainly generally somber matters. Norms for me and them are shifting, and so are expectations. Our emotions become compressed under the loads we carry.

With all that rolling through me, along with dreams, The Neurons’ morning mental music stream offering is Harry Styles singing, “As It Was”.

Chorus

In this world, it’s just us
You know it’s not the same as it was
In this world, it’s just us
You know it’s not the same as it was
As it was, as it was
You know it’s not the same

That about sums up my reflections this morning: it’s not the same.

Hope peace and grace find and carry you forward into a better future.

Cheers

A Traveling Dream, and Other Snippets

Dreamed I was going to a camp. Just a small sort of outdated place, with low wood-framed buildings painted brown or dark red, with a flat, slanted roof. A woman I’d just met was going with me, along with her sister.

We arrived in a 1970s era dark Dodge Charger or Ford Torino. I was driving and it was night when we arrived. The sisters had no place to sleep. I told them they could share my bed or sleep in the car, or I could sleep in the car, but I didn’t really want to. They ended up sleeping with me, one on either side.

Later, we got up to go find food and ran into other people I casually knew. They had soup and bread. We asked where they got it and headed toward a little shack they indicated. It was a dark place with a low ceiling, where we discovered we needed to pay in marks. I didn’t have any marks so the sister paid a 1,000 marks for food for me.

We ate and then separated. I wandered, exploring, following winding dirt paths between the buildings and trees at this tiny resort. Night was falling and I didn’t have any marks, so I didn’t know what to do. I did have dollars but not a large amount.

It was dark. I went back to my car. Another car, very like it, was parked beside it. Both with nose in, the rear ends toward me. As I reached my car, I looked over to the other car and saw the sisters sitting in it. I wondered if they’d gotten into the wrong car by mistake.

Dream end.

This was one of three dreams remembered from last night, but the most coherent and lucid.

Can’t recall much of the other two dreams. They’re shifting, like almost there, not quite remembered or forgotten. The strongest of the two had me carrying baking tins. Something finished was in it but I don’t know what. Others were doing the same. Many of the others looked like me but were slightly different. When I offered my baking tin, I saw that their offering was fully risen and mine was flat. I went off, got another like magic, and it was full. I went to give it to someone else, but discovered it was flat again. All of this took place outside in bright sunshine on a calm day.

The main thing I remember from the third dream was that I was happy and laughing a lot. And younger, but an adult.

Ah, night work.

Another DIY Challenge!

A foul odor haunts the master bathroom, where a water closet shares a tiled shower stall.

When the smell — something smelly but not sweet — struck a few days ago, I thought, what the hell is that? Then I began trying to figure it out.

I’m really not sure where the smell is coming up. Several ideas hit my brain: broken or backed-up sewer line, broken toilet seal, or shower P trap, with an almost ancillary worry, maybe it’s a dead animal or animal latrine in the crawl space.

The shower isn’t used that often, typically three times a week, typically three to six minutes. I know this because I’m the only one who uses it, so I know when someone steps into the shower instead of the bath.

The smell lacks the ‘sweet decay’ that a dead animal often exudes. It’s more of a crappy smell. I noticed, too, that it seemed to dissipate when I showered. That said, I wasn’t positive that I wasn’t just becoming tolerant with exposure. The smell isn’t growing, either.

There’s no smell outside, and no wet areas or especially green growths, so I don’t think it’s a broken sewer line. The floor around the toilet isn’t soft, wet, or showing stains, and the toilet doesn’t rock when I use it, so I don’t think it’s the toilet wax seal.

Given what I’ve read and experienced, I think it’s that P trap. So now I’ll investigate, try different suggestions, see what results.

It’s not the largest problem I face, or the world has. Just another thing to pull my attention from other things.

Just what 2026 needs.

Look!

Driving back home, I pulled up to stop behind other cars. My attention drifted from traffic to the mountains to the north.

Gasp.

Snow.

Not much, mind you, but snow was topping the northern mountains. Excitement building, I leaned forward to look east as traffic moved.

Yes, more snow capped Pilot Rock and the eastern mountains.

Been too long since snow crowned those mountains. More rain is expected tomorrow, moving in from the south later this week. Weather forecasters are calling for snow, but only at higher elevations. Still, if a bit more of the mountains are covered, I’ll be a much less worried camper.

Ambush

The lens that I roll and find
In the dumping ground
Of my mind
Moving from cat
To food
Life and Mom
Conversations
Time

I search for a point
Feet on bridge
As Neurons
Sing
Telling me often
Let it be

Jamming with tunes
Coming up and in
I circle
Slipping on words
And sounds
Picking apart

Pieces of lint

The Brown Cougar Dream

My wife and I arrived at a resort hotel, meeting our friend, Bob and his wife. Real-life note: this is not the same Bob from my previous dreams, but a friend and co-worker from my military days. The wife in this dream wasn’t his real-life wife.

Bob, who was prematurely bald, had thick black in the dream. My wife and I had just arrived. Bob and his wife came by to greet us and make plans.

I noticed some filth on the ceiling. It disgusted me so I looked for something to clean it up. I found some spray and sprayed it all over but then needed a ladder and rag. A young hotel worker asked me what I was doing. I explained myself. He shook his head and reassured me, “Don’t worry about it, we have it covered. It’s not your problem.”

I went back into the room and noticed the spray had already made the ceiling mess almost invisible.

Bob and I ended up outside, where it was like a desert after a rainstorm. He was carrying a young animal he’d rescued. Noticing a young brown cougar down the hill, I followed behind Bob to protect him from the cougar and found a large stick to use as a weapon.

Waiting on a porch for Bob’s return, I saw the cougar watching me. As that registered, the cougar approached. Raising the stick, I yelled and made myself big.

Sitting down, the cougar asked, “What are you doing?”

“I’m making myself big and making noises to scare you away.”

The cougar chuckled. “Did you really think that was going to work?”

“That’s what they tell us to do.”

“Anyway, you’re safe for now,” the cougar said, “but you scheduled to die tomorrow, and I’ll eat you.”

I was appalled and vowed not to let that happen.

The cougar shrugged. “It’s going to happen. It’s on the schedule.” He indicated a bright pink and blue poster. I read the poster but saw nothing about my death on it.

Back in the hotel room, I showered and cleaned up. Bob came by to see if I was ready. I told him that I needed to shower. I took off my clothes and stepped into the shower and then realized, what am I doing? I already showered.

I was now naked downstairs and needed to up to my room. Entering the stairwell, I caught a reflection of myself and found I was astonishingly good-looking — much younger, lean and muscular, with a thick head of dark brown hair swept to one side. As I started up the steps, a young woman entered.

“Eek,” she said, pretending to turn away. Covering her face with a hand, she looked at me between her fingers. “A naked man.”

I laughed and apologized, continuing up the steps, and encountered another woman. “Locked out without your clothes?” she mused.

“Yes, that’s what happened.”

She chuckled. “We’ve all been there.”

Now dressed, I joined Bob and our wives in another area of the resort. I saw the brown cougar in the crowd, watching me. I realized that I’d forgotten something in the room and needed to go back. Bob drew up a complex map, showing me where we were and how to get back to my room, 1004, at the top of the building. Although his map was detailed, I felt bewildered and said, “I’ll never find my way back through that maze.”

Bob said, “Alright, let me go with you, at least part of the way, until you know where you’re at.”

Dream end.

Thursday’s Theme Music

Sunshine lit up the room today. It’s Thursday, February 5, 2026, in Ashland but the weather defies that date. Papi and I went out to the back patio and enjoyed sunshine.

“It feels balmy out,” Papi noticed.

“I agree,” I answered.

Oh, wait; reverse that. Papi agreed to me, or so I thought from how he threw himself down and rolled around, inviting a belly rub and purring.

62 F online, my home says it’s 69. White pulled-taffy clouds have a small footprint in the dominant blue sky. Highs might crest 70.

Talking with friends last night, we agreed, nice weather but worrisome for the coming summer’s water needs. Meanwhile, sis sent me photos of her glistening snowclad yard, pretty but 22 degrees.

I showed sis’s snow photo to my wife. “Yes, it’s pretty until it melts,” my wife offered. I agreed.

My wife mentioned that TrumpRx was launching tonight but didn’t think it would do well.

Trump certainly has a chaotic and checkered history that sets his efforts up for doubt. As for TrumpRx, we’ll see. Only time and facts will reveal the truth.

The Neurons pulled a strange song into the morning mental music stream. “Kings and Queens” by Aerosmith came out almost fifty years ago. I knew it from their album but I don’t think I’ve ever heard it on the radio. Yet, there I was, singing it to myself in the kitchen as I fulfilled Papi’s feeding needs.

I suspect the song came up because I’m serving Papi and thinking about recent political developments.

Onward into the day’s mettle with hopes that peace and grace find and carry us. See you on the other side of the coffee cup.

Cheers

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Dry but cold and sunny, Wednesday, February 4, 2026, has begun its 24-hour Ashland residency. 50 – 46 – 37 F are Ashland’s temperatures, given by Alexa, online, and home. Sunny, with blue skies and no clouds that Papi and I can see. A high of sixty-something is projected.

I’m thinking about beats today. Give me a beat, we got the beat, we were beat, they beat him down.

Every day — every hour — has its beats. Sometimes they come out sharp and clear. Today, they’re muted background noise for me.

Reading a novel for a bit doesn’t reveal the day’s beats. Nor does reading the news. Yet the beat goes on.

Papi has his beat, moving with private style, a cool and graceful study in orange fur. Bit jealous, watching his steady gaze as he sits, looks, washes.

It’s only February and already the news beat has been manic with news that has me gritting my teeth, bracing for worse. The Neurons have offered up a Foo Fighters tune to blanket the noise. “The Pretender” plays in the morning mental music stream, driving me forward a new, harder beat. The song reminds me, same ol’ story, waiting to see what happens, waiting to hear their defense, waiting for a change back to the nation I knew.

Sample Lyrics

What if I say I’m not like the others?
What if I say I’m not just another one of your plays?
You’re the pretender
What if I say I will never surrender?

The song fits my mood because I often ask of Trump, who are you to issue decrees like a pompous king? And I ask of the MAGAs, who are you that you believe where Trump leads, not just accepting, but supporting and encouraging it?

The morning circle is done. Hope peace and grace find you, me, all of us, and take us tightly through this day and into a better tomorrow.

Cheers

To Continue

A Suite of Thoughts

“Shiny”

Pennies and nickels
Money we hold
Kept in jars
Doesn’t fold
Saved for
Rainy days
Other times
Dust collecting
As we add dimes
Quarters are coveted
Wash and wax
Till someone else
Counts the cash

“Going By”

Shadows dance
On mind walls
Coming alive
Hearing old songs
Whispering
Remember
When you see a smile
Ordering
Forget
When you freeze
For a while
Always there
Awakened
And dead
The people
You’ve met
The person
You’ve been

“Orientation”

Just like that
There I am
Slipping along
A spectrum
I don’t understand
Looking for footing
As I
Slide along
Grasping for pieces
Hoping to right
Wrongs
Smiling
Like everything’s ‘okay’
Looking for spaces
In places
Where I sit
Struggling
With something
To say

“Dwelling”

It’s just a moment
To explore the day
Lost in thought
Feeling old
Maybe gray
Hunting for a mood
That’s muddied
And sullen
Hoping answers
Might come
From sources
Hidden
I’ll sit a while
In this well of mine
Doing my business
Thinking
About time

“Reconsidering”

Framing comes
With a frozen
Snap
I blink again
Wondering
Where I’m at
How much time
Has passed me by
As I sit
Reflecting
Wondering why
Maybe it’s time to stand
And stretch
Get on with life
And off the bench

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑