

Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Mom is struggling in her assisted living situation. It’s been five to six weeks in her new place. She has professed to be happy at times. She also has related that she hates it.
She’s accused others of stealing things. She found those items in her room later.
Her habit of texting my sisters at night resumed. Two sisters ended up blocking her.
The texts were often complaints about what was going on or demands that things be taken to her.
As it was before, it seems clear that Mom is cognitively impaired. She’s been through a lot of health issues and is on many medications.
Now Mom must pay again for another month in advance shortly. She’s not sure what she’s paid or what she’s expected to pay and is asking us for help. There are some hints that she wants us to help her with the costs.
It is so painful to hear about these texts and read them.
My sisters are hugely angry with Mom and struggle to help her. They tell me that Mom becomes mean and hateful and will start yelling or just turn away from them. I can imagine how emotionally exhausting that is for them. We agreed, only one sibling can address Mom, following the advice given to us to handle the situation. Maintaining that silence is so painful.
I want to send Mom money to help her out. We’re warned not to do that because Mom will probably end up depending on Medicaid. If that transpires, Medicaid looks at her previous five years of income. Anything we’ve given her will be considered as part of that and reduce what help she’ll be given.
I do a lot of sighing when I think about Mom and her situation.
Just a short time ago, I overheard two elderly individuals talking at the coffee house, addressing the same problem that I’m dealing with. A man and woman, they both looked older than me by about ten years, putting them in their eighties. He later confirmed for her that he was 79.
The woman was talking about her sister and her sister’s problems. Her sister resides in Arizona and won’t move to Oregon, where we’re at. But each woman is alone and need help, so they’ve decided that the coffee-shop woman will be a snowbird and go live with her sister several times a year and see how it goes.
The man related that he was an only child. His parents created a trust after they retired. He could withdraw from it whenever he wanted. His father cautioned him, though, that someday they might need that money and urged him to be circumspect.
The man related that he was glad his father gave him that advice, and that he heeded it. He estimated that in the last five years of his parents’ life, he spent about $1,000,000 to provide them with housing and care.
There are lessons in all of this, I think.
I don’t know what they are.
Ashland, Oregon — Sunday, March 8, 2026.
The clocks have been turned, the deed is done. We’ve sprung ahead until the autumn, when we’ll fall back. I admit, I’m not a fan.
It’s 50 F out there with birds on the utility wires silently eyeing the house under a bright blue dome. 66 F is the expectation today, a short drop from yesterday’s high. Flowers are blooming and all signs are trending toward spring.
Happy birthday to my youngest sister! I vividly remember when she was brought home and how we crowded around, adoring our newest little addition. May she receive the joy and happiness that she so often brings to others with her attitude and helpfulness. Love you, sis.
You know, consumer confidence was slightly up in February of 2026. That was BTW — Before Trump’s War, which he started in Iran at the end of February. The confidence reading was also before data showing how much the deficit has grown under Trump was released, and the terrible jobs report. With oil and gas prices rising and expected to push up costs, and the U.S. burning through its armament, I wonder what the confidence reading will look like in March.
My own consumer confidence remains low. Insurance premiums, food prices, and energy prices are caving in my consumer confidence. Doesn’t help that the non-profit running our local hospital cut back its services because it wasn’t pay enough money to the parent organization, even though it showed a net operating income of $10,000,000 for its last reporting year.
As an aside, I’m amazed that I’ve been reading about how people didn’t vote in the last election because they blame both parties, so, gosh, they gush, none of this is their problem.
Meanwhile, Trump in his wisdom, has decided to escalate the attacks in Iran, vowing to hit them very hard in a Truth Social message.
“Today Iran will be hit very hard! Under serious consideration for complete destruction and certain death, because of Iran’s bad behavior, are areas and groups of people that were not considered for targeting up until this moment in time.”
Complete destruction and certain death are certainly impressive aspirations for a ‘peace president’ and unifier.
Thinking hopes, promises, and optimism ended up with The Neurons filling the morning mental music stream with a song by the Cranberries, “Promises”. The 1999 song is about “all the meaningless and empty words”, a phrase going through my mind about Trump’s past promises. Although I like the song’s style and enjoy Dolores O’Riordan, the video is, ah…unusual.
Wonder what promises Trump will break next? Already broke promises to never golf, start no new wars, lower prices and end the Ukraine war on day one, improve healthcare, reduce the deficit, better the economy, release the Epstein files, bring back manufacturing…
Hope this finds you well and your day satisfies you in all the ways you need.
Cheers
This is a playing around piece. Over on Linda G. Hill’s blog via Laura’s WTFAIOA site, we’re all invited to write a non-edited stream of consciousness thing prompted by ‘distance’. So here we are. It was fun.
The distance doesn’t start or end, it’s just there with a space between us as we flash down the road, close and far apart as ever, going again to a place we were before hoping it’s the same place even while we seek something different. We travel the same distance when we talk about her mother and my mom and people we’ve known and what was done when. The drive ends as it began with a sense of wonder what’s going on and an expectation that somehow, this changes things. Sometimes it does but mostly, we are here again, pacing the distance, measuring it for curtains, prowling it at night.
‘I’ wasn’t in this dream, which was more like the ‘television dreams’ which I sometimes experience.
Three people were renting a place together for vacation. One was a gay male. I don’t remember the other two much, as ‘the camera’ mostly focused on him.
It was the vacation’s final day so they were talking about leaving. The house was cluttered and messy from their time there – pizza boxes and take-out food containers, dishes on counters, etc. They were being vague about what to do but when remembered seeing a move-out checklist. Remembering roughly where it was on the counter, they pulled out a typed-up two-page checklist.
The group began reading from it. One of them took a half-eaten piece of pizza from a box and began eating it, disgusting the others. He mocked them, saying, “It’s only a little old and hard.”
They were then outside, walking back and up toward the vacation place. It had a broad glassed-in overhang above a double garage with a cement drive.
Large, thick tree branches were on the drive on either side. They discussed that the branches probably fell during a storm a few days before. The gay guy wanted to chop up the branches and remove them as a nice gesture. He seemed very excited about doing it while the others hung back. Getting an axe, he lined up a branch to cut it apart and took an ineffectual swing.
Dream end
Second dream…a short time later…
Very messy dream. I was there, and my wife, and others, but many were coming and going. We were preparing to go out, and it seems like we were investigating something but as a social group. I think there was a core of three to give but things were weakly framed.
We were in an apartment. My neighbor, Wade, was in the opposite apartment. We were dressing, and I was dressed first, and was wearing a light gray suit, I think with a light yellow shirt. I remember thinking it odd.
To both kill time and because I had an idea that I thought would help, I went to Wade’s place. I was doing it furtively because I didn’t want the rest to know. I also was ambiguous about being in Wade’s place. He hadn’t given explicit permission, but I felt that he would have if asked. But, that hadn’t been asked, so it felt like a gray area.
But I knew Wade harbored a device to create a sort of document which could help us. I went over to use that. I was trying to be quick but things went wrong and the device wasn’t as easy to use as expected.
While I was in there, another person arrived and ‘caught me’. I explained that it was Wade’s – which they knew – but tried avoiding explaining why I was there, trying to put things back to how they were.
I then went back over to the apartment, where my wife was ready and talking about doing something. Another had some stuff. They said if you shake it over your eyes, it reveals that there are some insects there. My wife was eager to have this done on herself and me, saying that it was something that she wanted to do for a long time and disparaging me because ‘I never wanted to do it’.
The guy came over, told me to close my eyes and kept them closed. He then sprinkled stuff on them and then said, “Oh wow, look how many Michael has.” It was sort of gleeful in a horrified way. I asked, “What do I do about them?”
Then I looked in a mirror. I confirmed some small black insects were crawling around my eyes but I was horrified with how my hair looked. It was wet and sloppy, so I tried fixing it.
I think there was a little more to the dream, but this is what I remember.