Lenfloofcular (floofinition) – housepet who resembles a lentil when they’re sleeping.
In use: “At a casual glance, the cats’ lenfloofcular positions made it look like Jack had dropped big three beans onto the bed.”
Black Friday’s Theme Music
Black Friday began a few weeks ago. I received word on a Tuesday when a mailer arrived announcing that every Friday was Black Friday was Black Friday. Others didn’t start Black Friday until Wednesday or Thursday, but many vowed to continue it until January 1, with one chain declaring that every day is Black Friday.
For some reason, all this Black Friday chatter delivered Steely Dan performing “Black Friday” (1975) to my theme song stream. Steely Dan’s version of the day is much different than the buying extravaganza of this year. Steely Dan’s song relates more to the Black Fridays of financial and social collapse.
Think of Black Friday as you will.
Just Sayin’
Feeling mad as a hatter, Skip bought a brand spanking new car. To his friends, it was a bolt out of the blue.
Checking it out, Clyde said, “What’s the four-one-one, Skip?”
“Yes,” Penelope said. “What, d’yer win the booby prize? Give us the straight skinny.”
“It’s my new jalopy,” Skip said, at one fell swoop gaining jaundiced looks. “I bought it, cash on the nail. I could only afford it by the skin of my teeth.”
Milly said, “You’re such a crack pot. Did you have to cook the books?”
“To coin a phrase, I think it’s a blot on the landscape,” Parnell said. “It’s the mutts’ nuts.”
Nodding, Tucker said, “Right on. Did you forget to use your loaf, Skip?”
“What’s with the third degree?” Skip wondered as Hester said, “I don’t want to be a wet blanket, but gag me with a spoon.”
“Fer sure, you’re barking mad, Skip,” Ethel said as Horatio said, “You’re such an airhead, Skipper. You bought a pig in the poke.”
Beaming, Skip replied, “Well, I think it’s the cat’s pajamas. It’s really groovy.”
Tucker rose. “That’s all well and good, but I need to catch some zzzs. I’m gonna skate.” Looking at Skip, he said, “Drop a dime when you’ve come back to earth, space cadet.”
“Word,” Ethel agreed as Clyde said, “Peace out,” and Milly said, “Mic drop.”
Watching his friends troop away, Skip said, “Well, I didn’t mean to upset the apple cart.” Leaning back in front of his ride, he took a selfie. “I’ll share it on the Cloud, and Facebook it, the whole shebang. Then, when people Google me, they’ll see my wheels.”
But first, he texted it to himself, and then went to veg out, pleased as punch. It was a new day, and the sky was the limit.
Imflooftu
Imflooftu (floofinition) – to make a spontaneous decision to adopt an animal as a housepet.
In use: “He’d never considered himself a dog person, but the young beagle’s quiet, sad gaze initiated an imflooftu decision, and so his love affair with beagles began, with a quiet one named Single.”
Last Night’s Competitive Dream
Briefly, in last night’s dream, I was barefoot, but also in a blue uniform. I wouldn’t describe it as a military not a sports uniform. I thought it was a uniform because I wasn’t alone in the dream, and we were all wearing the same outfit. They didn’t numbers, ranks, or anything that distinguished one of us from another.
We were outside on lush fields of cut, dark green grass. To one side was a white building. I thought of school when I saw the whole thing, but I don’t know what it was.
I couldn’t say how many were in the fields in blue uniforms, but it seemed like a large number. Among us were people in the same uniform monitoring activities. The main activity was for us to run. We would run for about eight yards as fast as we could. As far as I could tell, no one was testing us. Someone would shout, “Run,” and we would all complete an eight yard dash. Most of us would laugh after we did it. It seemed like a lark.
This went on for a bit. I felt confused but not winded. Others were starting to complain. One observer, a black man in a blue uniform strolled past me and said, “Run.” I did. “Again,” he said. I did. “Again,” he said, circling me, saying, “Again,” after I did it.
A peer came out, a black youth in a blue uniform, but he was holding shoes. “What are you doing?” he said to me.
“Running.”
“Why? Are you practicing?”
I shook my head but didn’t say anything because I was being told, “Run,” again. I was bothered, though. Why was I alone being told to run?
The youth walked on. Alone with the observer, I asked, “Why are you having me do this?”
He said, “You’re doing more than the others but you’re not using the potential that I think you have, so I’m going to push you to do more.”
The dream ended.
A few things struck me as I thought of the dream while doing my morning activities. While I was alone running as directed, I felt conspicuous, because I was the only one the observer was telling to run, so I was the only one now running. That made me stand out, and brought attention to me. I don’t like getting attention. The whole idea of being the center of attention makes me nervous and anxious. But if I’m going to achieve my potential, I’ll need to run alone, and accept getting attention.
I wondered, though. We were only running eight yards. I thought, does that mean it’s a shorter distance than I realized? I also thought, eight is so often featured in my dreams. Then, more whimsically, I thought, I’m only going eight yards, but do I need to go the whole nine yards?
Dreams, always giving me more to think about.
Corny Thanks
Sitting down at the coffee shop to write on this Thanksgiving Day in America, I pause to give thanks for how lucky I’ve been. I frequently complain but most of these are first world blues or the general venting against how the world functions in this life-experience-reality-existence.
I could enumerate the many ways that I’ve been lucky, but I don’t think that’s needed. Little of it has been within my control. I’m thankful for the strokes of luck that made and keep me fortunate. That doesn’t mean that I’ve not had bad times, but that I’ve always been able to recover. I wish others the same sort of luck, and that you have the security and health to pursue your dreams.
Now, I have my coffee. With that brief word of thanks, it’s time to write and edit like crazy, at least one more time. Sure, it’s a holiday, but the muses gotta write.
Noifloof
Noifloof (floofinition) – something obnoxious or offensive to housepets; housepet activity that is offensive to people.
In use: “The garbage truck’s weekly roar was a noifloof interruption to the popuflooftion’s idyllic routines, sending the cats and dogs into anxious hiding.”
Popuflooftion
Popuflooftion (floofinition) – all the housepets in a particular home, house, or apartment.
In use: “The ranch-style home included two adults and a popuflooftion of three cats, two dogs, and one each, bird, turtle, gecko, and hamster.”
Thanksgiving Theme Music
A little humor, a little Arlo Guthrie, a little Thanksgiving Thursday throwback theme tune. Pretty good alliteration, doncha’ think?
“Alice’s Restaurant” (1967).
Michael Seidel, writer 