Mailing the Card
Mother’s Day is upon us in the US again.
It’s tougher for me this year. A year ago, Mom and Frank, her live-in partner, were residing together at Mom’s house. All of that has changed.
I bought Mom flowers on line a few days ago and scheduled their delivery. Bought her a card, wrote a note, and mailed it. Provided her with a gift card to help with her expenses.
I was thinking, though, how very difficult the time is for my younger sisters. They live not far from Mom. Mothers themselves, it used to be their practice to take Mom to a local restaurant for a Mother’s Day buffet brunch.
Mom loved those times out, raving to me about the food and how nice it was to be with her daughters and their families, to be out at a restaurant with everyone, to see other people.
Change is change. We all do what we can to mitigate its impact. Some things remain out of reach.
Sorry, don’t mean to be a downer. I know that I follow in the steps of many others who have walked this path. In the end, my family has many good memories of this holiday. There are others who never managed to find that level of joy and happiness.
Bottom line for myself: accept the blessings. Reflect on the past.
But let go.
I hope you can balance your memories and changes with the day. If you’re fortunate enough that you and your mom are together and can celebrate the day, I hope you build something wonderful to remember.
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!
Tuesday’s Theme Music
Tuesday, February 10, 2026, finds Ashland reunited with sunshine. White and grey faintly marble a powerful blue sky with 44 degrees F on the thermometer.
All is not well, as Papi pointed out. Hustling in from outside, he turned and snapped a sharp meow at the wind. Winds are at the evilest of the evil, in the ginger wonder’s opinion. After cleaning the wind off him, he curled up, pacifying his sour mood with a nap.
Hard to think that we’re already ten days into February. 2026 has no speed governor and the days seem like they’re tearing along. It already feels like the month was a year with everything going on. Trump’s hold seems diminished, and that appears reflected in less violence, although his hate remains turned up.
We’re still awaiting many outcomes. The Trump Effect of transforming things to trash has hold of the crypto market and the US dollar is losing value. Part of the White House is literally demolished. The full revelations of Trump’s multiple appearances in the Epstein files is still snaking to the surface.
Yet, the Roberts Court somehow hasn’t announced an announcement about the Trump tariffs legality, even though arguments were heard months ago. It’s almost like they’re stalling.
In hilarious news, Senator Rick Scott, a strong Trump supporter, insisted that US Olympian daring to employ their freedom of speech to criticize the nation should be stripped of their uniform because the United States a ‘beacon of freedom and democracy’. Apparently, what he’s saying hasn’t sunk into the Florida senator’s brain.
And despite the speed of the month, we’re still awaiting the official jobs report, which was due last week.
With all that going on, Trump’s approval ratings are going down like the Titanic. It’s almost like a spell has broken.
And that transports me to today’s music.
The Neurons have “I Put A Spell On You” playing in my morning mental music stream. The song was originally called up in response to a dream about discovering someone had cursed me. As I thought about the day’s news headlines and Trump’s activities, I thought the song fit the need as Tuesday’s theme music. There are several wonderful covers of this song but I’m going with the one which surfaced in my head first, the CCR version.
Once more into the day. I hope that peace and grace bring you fair winds and good news.
Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 