As of late 2025, Former Police Chief Wayne Smith informed the city that the department is understaffed, laterally transferring officers takes time and money and recruiting new officers takes months. In order to balance the budget in 2025, $154,000 was cut from the police part-time budget. With 67,000 residents and only 80 authorized sworn officers, 57% below the California average, the police department is unable to focus on community outreach and local projects that are proven to reduce crime. Most calls to LPD are nonviolent offenses that could be handled by outreach and diversion programs. The issues involving the unhoused and those struggling with addiction have increased so rapidly that two officers are dedicated specifically to those calls and our city attorney spends 50-60 hours monthly on these cases alone. With reduced capacity to truly protect and serve, we are failing our city.

The Lodi City Council has an obligation to make informed decisions to combat the issues presented to them. Rather than saying "Stockton is bleeding into Lodi," let's look at the facts. The Committee on Homelessness and city staff recommended Inner City Action a proven, results-driven organization that transitioned 111 people out of homelessness in roughly one year. The council overruled their own staff, awarded the contract to the Salvation Army citing "30 years of relationship," and then publicly criticized Inner City Action. Inner City Action walked. The Salvation Army's Modesto shelter transitioned 125 people in four years. The council chose a brand over results and called it leadership.

This is the same council that cut $154,000 from the police part-time budget while the department is already 57% below the state average for officers per capita. The same council that gives graffiti abatement $15,000 in a $291 million budget. The same council that lets $8 million in facility maintenance go unfunded while east Lodi parks sit unsafe and the city attorney burns 50-60 hours a month prosecuting the same homeless citations over and over because there is nowhere to send people. The pattern isn't incompetence. It's priorities.

Once the city aligned with Outreach Ministries, measurable and affordable action began, 203 people housed in 15 months. But even now the council has questioned rescinding funds, downsizing the permanent facility, and leasing out operations to cut costs on the one program that is working.

Eastern Lodi has been a less desirable place for decades. It has the highest crime rates, the lowest incomes, and the city is legally obligated to prioritize solving its issues. Based on recent beautification projects it seems the city is putting a Band-Aid on the better parts of town, lipstick on a pig. The city's own stated goal is to raise the median income to the top 25% in the state. That means attracting people from the Bay Area and Sacramento, not helping the Lodi citizens already here. Meanwhile a comprehensive facility assessment found over $8 million in deferred maintenance needs with more than $5 million currently unfunded. The graffiti abatement program lost its dedicated budget and now survives on $15,000 pulled from administration. The city's own community survey identified youth centers and park maintenance as top priorities. The CDBG response was $90,000 for all public services across every community organization in the city combined. There are no publicly funded drop-in day centers. The library is the only free third space and it isn't funded for expanded hours. $655,037 in total CDBG funding. $90,000 of it for people.

In April 2025, City Manager Scott Carney who had previously helped stabilize Stockton after bankruptcy, stood up at a council meeting and alleged that the city attorney and city clerk had edited official staff reports without his knowledge to protect certain employees, and that internal audits had uncovered widespread misuse of city-issued credit cards for personal purchases. Mayor Cameron Bregman cut Carney off mid-statement and told him he was "making a mockery of this chamber." A week later, the council voted 3-2 to place him on administrative leave. Councilmembers Nakanishi and Craig-Hensley dissented. An independent audit by Moss Adams subsequently confirmed city employees had misused CAL-Cards for personal purchases and identified significant deficiencies in financial oversight, corroborating everything Carney alleged. The council moved to terminate him anyway. The man who tried to fix it got pushed out. The people who created the problem are still there.

$22 million spent on homelessness infrastructure in four years. Homelessness up 89% since 2019. Three operators in three years. A $33 million police department being knowingly understaffed. $8 million in deferred maintenance. $15,000 for graffiti. A whistleblower fired. And a city Facebook group full of people complaining about every single one of these things.

Out of 67,000 residents, roughly 34,000 to 36,000 are U.S. citizens eligible to vote for change. In the last five city council elections, only about 1 in 4 eligible voters participated on average. In the worst races, 1 in 7. The current mayor won his seat with 1,432 votes. The last contested council race was decided by 790. In a city of 67,000 people.

There are more people complaining on Facebook about these issues than there are votes deciding who runs this city. We have legacy families donating $30 million to the community foundation. A wine industry generating $350 million annually. Average household incomes of $110,000. The money is not the problem. The people making decisions with it, and the neighbors letting them are.

This is America. We are lucky to even have the right to vote and control our cities. It is time to participate in our own lives.

The next Lodi City Council election is November 2026.

Committee on Homelessness: lcohca@gmail.com — meets 1st Thursday monthly City Council public comment: lodi.gov Voter registration: registertovote.ca.gov

Lets start off with I am married and very happy, but recently reached out to an old friend I used to be extremely close with years ago. We were best friends on and off with romantic undertones for a long time when we were younger teens-early 20s, but nothing romantic has existed between us for around 5 years and that chapter was closed a long time ago. And the ability to actually contact each other was closed to a very abusive partner completely wiping my phone and any man on it.

We eventually drifted apart mostly because I wasn’t a very reliable person back then and I disappeared into relationships a lot. We remained social media friends and reached out on birthdays until he was wiped from my phone. Despite all that, I still trust him as a person and really respect the kind of custom work he does.

My husband was mentioning wanting a high quality customized gift for a milestone birthday/life accomplishment, and a mutual friend (who knows the entire history between us) basically said this old friend is one of the few people they’d actually trust for that kind of craftsmanship. The mutual friend also didn’t react like it was weird or inappropriate for me to reach out. My husband knows the story and details and also did not find it weird.

So I sent a pretty straightforward message asking if he was taking commissions. This was a while ago. At some point after that, I made my Instagram public temporarily for a work-related post, and that same day he viewed my entire story/profile. But according to Instagram he still hasn’t actually opened/read the message itself (it’s a business account so it would show read status). He also hasn’t blocked me or tried to contact me elsewhere.

At this point I genuinely am not trying to reconnect romantically or reopen old feelings. I mostly just want either:

• a professional answer,
• a recommendation to another maker,
• or a clear indication he’d rather not talk.

Would it be weird to send ONE followup saying that if he’s not taking commissions anymore, I’d still appreciate a recommendation to another maker? Or is the silence enough of an answer? I think he might be in a relationship as well but he was never the kind of person to just not respond.

Lets start off with I am married and very happy, but recently reached out to an old friend I used to be extremely close with years ago. We were best friends on and off with romantic undertones for a long time when we were younger teens-early 20s, but nothing romantic has existed between us for around 5 years and that chapter was closed a long time ago.

We eventually drifted apart mostly because I wasn’t a very reliable person back then and I disappeared into relationships a lot. Despite all that, I still trust him as a person and really respect the kind of custom work he does.

My husband was mentioning wanting a high quality customized gift for a milestone birthday/life accomplishment, and a mutual friend (who knows the entire history between us) basically said this old friend is one of the few people they’d actually trust for that kind of craftsmanship. The mutual friend also didn’t react like it was weird or inappropriate for me to reach out. My husband knows the story and details and also did not find it weird.

So I sent a pretty straightforward message asking if he was taking commissions. This was a while ago. At some point after that, I made my Instagram public temporarily for a work-related post, and that same day he viewed my entire story/profile. But according to Instagram he still hasn’t actually opened/read the message itself (it’s a business account so it would show read status). He also hasn’t blocked me or tried to contact me elsewhere.

At this point I genuinely am not trying to reconnect romantically or reopen old feelings. I mostly just want either:

• a professional answer,
• a recommendation to another maker,
• or a clear indication he’d rather not talk.

Would it be weird to send ONE followup saying that if he’s not taking commissions anymore, I’d still appreciate a recommendation to another maker? Or is the silence enough of an answer? I think he might be in a relationship as well but he was never the kind of person to just not respond.

Lets start off with I am married and very happy, but recently reached out to an old friend I used to be extremely close with years ago. We were best friends on and off with romantic undertones for a long time when we were younger teens-early 20s, but nothing romantic has existed between us for around 5 years and that chapter was closed a long time ago.

We eventually drifted apart mostly because I wasn’t a very reliable person back then and I disappeared into relationships a lot. Despite all that, I still trust him as a person and really respect the kind of custom work he does.

My husband was mentioning wanting a high quality customized gift for a milestone birthday/life accomplishment, and a mutual friend (who knows the entire history between us) basically said this old friend is one of the few people they’d actually trust for that kind of craftsmanship. The mutual friend also didn’t react like it was weird or inappropriate for me to reach out. My husband knows the story and details and also did not find it weird.

So I sent a pretty straightforward message asking if he was taking commissions. This was a while ago. At some point after that, I made my Instagram public temporarily for a work-related post, and that same day he viewed my entire story/profile. But according to Instagram he still hasn’t actually opened/read the message itself (it’s a business account so it would show read status). He also hasn’t blocked me or tried to contact me elsewhere.

At this point I genuinely am not trying to reconnect romantically or reopen old feelings. I mostly just want either:

• a professional answer,
• a recommendation to another maker,
• or a clear indication he’d rather not talk.

Would it be weird to send ONE followup saying that if he’s not taking commissions anymore, I’d still appreciate a recommendation to another maker? Or is the silence enough of an answer? I think he might be in a relationship as well but he was never the kind of person to just not respond.

Glue

I am the glue that holds everyone together,
but glue does not stick to itself,
I am the bottle at the end of its life
the top popping off trying to give the last of what's left,

making a mess of everything I meant to hold together.

I fix broken mirrors and refuse to look at my own reflection in their cracked exterior,
broken people don't need to be fixed twice,
but my need to be there creates a sticky mess I entangle myself in.

I used too much glue and I didn't even notice.

Glue

I am the glue that holds everyone together,
but glue does not stick to itself,
I am the bottle at the end of its life
the top popping off trying to give the last of what's left,

making a mess of everything I meant to hold together.

I fix broken mirrors and refuse to look at my own reflection in their cracked exterior,
broken people don't need to be fixed twice,
but my need to be there creates a sticky mess I entangle myself in.

I used too much glue and I didn't even notice.

desperate to be seen, loved quietly in all the wrong ways,

alone in a world too busy to notice her,

a girl they said was so much like her mother,

too young yet to understand which parts they meant.

she found belonging in borrowed spaces she was never meant to outgrow,

truck beds and vineyard bonfires and the particular freedom of being trusted too young,

pain wrapped in humor sharp enough to make them laugh before they thought to ask,

carried quietly among souls too lost in their own weight to notice hers.

she collected memories that became feelings she was too young and unmedicated to name,

blue eyes an unsettling reminder of something she'd carry for years,

borrowed flannel worn like confirmation she pretended was just warmth,

country songs screaming irony at a girl too invested to listen.

forbidden kisses in the dark that would always taste like borrowed time.

broken tail lights glowing red, a sign to stop that she wouldn't take literally,

teenage memories like too much cologne and burning grocery store garlic bread,

the particular ache of moments that brand themselves quietly into the body,

August became more than a month but a reoccurring beginning counting down the same story every year.

years of wrong person snapchats and inquisitive happy birthday texts sent to the right one,

she kept leaving doors open for a man too loyal to follow them into someone else's life,

by the time the metaphorical clock struck midnight he belonged to someone else,

filling his broken soul the same way she once had.

August arrived right on schedule as it always had,

right place, right time, right people, still wrong,

in a way she would always be 16, it would always be August and he would always be the one she never truly could have,

finding familiar warmth in a cold bed neither would name for what it was.

"I'm afraid of being forgotten" hung in the dark between two people running from problems they started together.

so they played house in the careful way of people who know better,

she told everyone it wasn't real, not knowing silence can wound the same as leaving,

ordinary days she kept calling nothing,

protecting the only thing she had left by pretending it wasn't everything.

August ended the way it always ended,

running from the uncertain and the want of it being real,

the story never restarted, it only ever continued from 16,

the same girl, the same August, the same almost.

she spent years giving men everything she had,

proving to anyone who would take it that she was worth keeping,

and in doing so became exactly what he feared she would.

he folded his dreams quietly and moved toward a life that didn't fit,

and somewhere in between a mutual friend said her name like an answer,

like she could still be the thread that pulled him back to himself,

but her longing had been the ending before, so she let it stay quiet.

he was always a complicated boy who loved her in the only way he knew,

and she was always the girl from that August who needed more than almost,

he closed the door she spent years leaving open,

because some people need each other most in the space between.

almost a decade later she never forgot, she kept the promise,

and built something real from the mess the teenager made,

grateful for the boy who saw her before she knew how to be seen,

loving him still, in the only way that doesn't cost either of them anything.

the in between was never going to be enough, but August was never meant to be forever.

My comments:

Comment 1
Comment 2

It Was Always August

desperate to be seen, loved quietly in all the wrong ways,
alone in a world too busy to notice her,
a girl they said was so much like her mother,
too young yet to understand which parts they meant.

she found belonging in borrowed spaces she was never meant to outgrow,
truck beds and vineyard bonfires and the particular freedom of being trusted too young, pain wrapped in humor sharp enough to make them laugh before they thought to ask, carried quietly among souls too lost in their own weight to notice hers.

she collected memories that became feelings she was too young and unmedicated to name, blue eyes an unsettling reminder of something she'd carry for years,
borrowed flannel worn like confirmation she pretended was just warmth,
country songs screaming irony at a girl too invested to listen,

forbidden kisses in the dark that would always taste like borrowed time.

broken tail lights glowing red, a sign to stop that she wouldn't take literally,
teenage memories like too much cologne and burning grocery store garlic bread,
the particular ache of moments that brand themselves quietly into the body,
August became more than a month but a reoccurring beginning counting down the same story every year.

years of wrong person snapchats and inquisitive happy birthday texts sent to the right one, she kept leaving doors open for a man too loyal to follow them into someone else's life,
by the time the metaphorical clock struck midnight he belonged to someone else,
filling his broken soul the same way she once had.

August arrived right on schedule as it always had,
right place, right time, right people, still wrong, in a way she would always be 16,
it would always be August and he would always be the one she never truly could have, finding familiar warmth in a cold bed neither would name for what it was.

"I'm afraid of being forgotten" hung in the dark between two people running from problems they started together.

so they played house in the careful way of people who know better,
she told everyone it wasn't real, not knowing silence can wound the same as leaving, ordinary days she kept calling nothing,
protecting the only thing she had left by pretending it wasn't everything.

August ended the way it always ended,
running from the uncertain and the want of it being real,
the story never restarted, it only ever continued from 16, the same girl, the same August, the same almost.

she spent years giving men everything she had,
proving to anyone who would take it that she was worth keeping,
and in doing so became exactly what he feared she would.

he folded his dreams quietly and moved toward a life that didn't fit,
and somewhere in between a mutual friend said her name like an answer,
like she could still be the thread that pulled him back to himself,
but her longing had been the ending before, so she let it stay quiet.

he was always a complicated boy who loved her in the only way he knew,
and she was always the girl from that August who needed more than almost,
he closed the door she spent years leaving open, because some people need each other most in the space between.

almost a decade later she never forgot, she kept the promise,
and built something real from the mess the teenager made,
grateful for the boy who saw her before she knew how to be seen,
loving him still, in the only way that doesn't cost either of them anything.

the in between was never going to be enough, but August was never meant to be forever.

It Was Always August

desperate to be seen, loved quietly in all the wrong ways, alone in a world too busy to notice her, a girl they said was so much like her mother, too young yet to understand which parts they meant.

she found belonging in borrowed spaces she was never meant to outgrow, truck beds and vineyard bonfires and the particular freedom of being trusted too young, pain wrapped in humor sharp enough to make them laugh before they thought to ask, carried quietly among souls too lost in their own weight to notice hers.

she collected memories that became feelings she was too young and unmedicated to name, blue eyes an unsettling reminder of something she'd carry for years, borrowed flannel worn like confirmation she pretended was just warmth, country songs screaming irony at a girl too invested to listen,

forbidden kisses in the dark that would always taste like borrowed time.

broken tail lights glowing red, a sign to stop that she wouldn't take literally, teenage memories like too much cologne and burning grocery store garlic bread, the particular ache of moments that brand themselves quietly into the body, August became more than a month but a reoccurring beginning counting down the same story every year.

years of wrong person snapchats and inquisitive happy birthday texts sent to the right one, she kept leaving doors open for a man too loyal to follow them into someone else's life, by the time the metaphorical clock struck midnight he belonged to someone else, filling his broken soul the same way she once had.

August arrived right on schedule as it always had, right place, right time, right people, still wrong, in a way she would always be 16, it would always be August and he would always be the one she never truly could have, finding familiar warmth in a cold bed neither would name for what it was.

"I'm afraid of being forgotten" hung in the dark between two people running from problems they started together.

so they played house in the careful way of people who know better, she told everyone it wasn't real, not knowing silence can wound the same as leaving, ordinary days she kept calling nothing, protecting the only thing she had left by pretending it wasn't everything.

August ended the way it always ended, running from the uncertain and the want of it being real, the story never restarted, it only ever continued from 16, the same girl, the same August, the same almost.

she spent years giving men everything she had, proving to anyone who would take it that she was worth keeping, and in doing so became exactly what he feared she would.

he folded his dreams quietly and moved toward a life that didn't fit, and somewhere in between a mutual friend said her name like an answer, like she could still be the thread that pulled him back to himself, but her longing had been the ending before, so she let it stay quiet.

he was always a complicated boy who loved her in the only way he knew, and she was always the girl from that August who needed more than almost, he closed the door she spent years leaving open, because some people need each other most in the space between.

almost a decade later she never forgot, she kept the promise, and built something real from the mess the teenager made, grateful for the boy who saw her before she knew how to be seen, loving him still, in the only way that doesn't cost either of them anything.

the in between was never going to be enough, but August was never meant to be forever.

https://preview.redd.it/7s885ut9h61h1.jpg?width=1935&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=6489b3c09c5fe07166b325b43828cbbc793e05f7

Do I need to prep or anything or can I just clean and make sure the floor is level? My whole house is shoddy bamboo not cut correctly with gaps in the edges and this ugly hard to clean tile.

My husband is in his mid to late 20s, he spent 6 years in the marine infantry and then went to construction. He is looking at corrections in California, he has family who did full careers in corrections and parole. We have a very communicative relationship, he is always down to seek mental health help when needed. He is level headed, wants to work as much as possible to have the life he wants. He is not afraid of dead bodies, bodily fluid, emotional moments, being yelled at etc.

He wants a job that makes a difference in the world while using his skills from the military and having a good stable income.

What are the things he should question about himself or the job before he gets deep into the process.

I need someone to help me check to make sure my accounts aren’t overdue when I moved because last night when I was messaging support, I filled out the agreements for plans at least three times and I’m afraid that I’m signed up for multiple plans. And then they said I had some past due balance, but I looked and it said zero dollars.

Please I can’t get a call back, a message, chat keeps crashing once they see a billing issue that doesn’t exist and then I get stuck with the AI