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

Marker

The cracks show –

Spreading

He missed them

At first

Clocking them

Only after

Others

Commented.

He finds

Life emptying out

Contemplating

His time chasing

Time

Until time ran

Out of

Sight

Leaving him

With

All the time

Needed.

Giving him a

Smile –

Clues were

Forever

There

An unfelt

Hand

Pushing.

Thursday’s Theme Music

Thursday, January 29, 2026, arrived in Ashland, bleakly overcast, 46 degrees. A high of 55 F is forecasted for us.

“Looks like rain,” my wife said. I nodded, agreeing. Papi meowed for food.

We need snow but it’s been a while since we’ve had serious precipitation in Ashland, invoking drought memories. With drought comes more wildfires, stirring recall of the 2020 Almeda fire, which destroyed several neighborhoods, almost wiping out entire towns. Rebuilding continues more than five years later.

It feels like it echoes Yogi Berra’s observation, “It’s deja vu all over again.”

I met with friends for beers and chats last night. As we discussed ICE in Minnesota and the killings of Alex Pretti and Renee Good, two members reminded us of another ICE killing. Keith Porter was killed on December 31st in Los Angeles. He had a rifle and was shooting it into the air to celebrate the New Year. Not illegal, but an off-duty ICE agent shot and killed Keith Porter for it.

Three dead, all from innocuous actions. ICE’s record for killing U.S. citizens while aggressively hunting ‘illegal immigrants’ darkly disturbs me.

I hope there will be justice for Keith Porter, Renee Good, and Alex Pretti. I’m not sure if that’s possible in the U.S. with Trump in charge. Trump suggested that Renee Good was a terrorist who deserved to die, an allegation given without evidence.

More depressing, those three deaths are just the headline news. Other reports have ICE is responsible for the deaths of eight people in 2026. It’s not even the end of January yet.

Some glimmer of optimism was found on Daily Kos. Mark Sumner summarized how Jonathan Ross, the ICE agent who killed Renee Good, might be prosecuted, citing previous legal rulings and the courses which might be followed. I read it and took deep breaths.

I’m not overly hopeful but there is a glimmer. Part of my negativity stems from several simple facts in the cases and rulings Sumner cited: law enforcement killing citizens is more deja vu all over again.

Trying to break out of the cloud of general malaise now falling on me, The Neurons have a Cake song organized in the morning mental music stream. My friend and I were chatting last night, and I was telling him about this song, “Short Skirt Long Jacket”. He wasn’t familiar with it, though I sang it to him and everything. Should have just pulled out my phone, right? I realized that an hour too late.

Anyway, the bouncy song is now rooted in me, so let’s play it, sing along, and maybe smile a bit.

May peace and grace find us and save us from this cycle of ICE killing, and may justice be served. Cheers

At the Moment

Middle age

Young age

Old age

A childhood time

Post modernism

Pre-industrial

Eras we define

Space age

Information age

Net age

Here we come

Knowledge at our fingertips

Truth is on the run

Thinking

Wishing

Wondering what will be

How will history

Change this age

Of truth

Of change

Of greed?

Sitting on the cusp

Of something

Trying to make sense

How long can this go on

With so many

On the fence?

If you ask me what it means

Uncertainty arises

I think I know what I see

I’m not sure

I like it

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