Barrafloofa (floofinition) – Animal known for its fearsome appearance and ferocious behaviour.

In use: “Normally friendly as a happy puppy, raised voices always summoned Herc’s inner barrafloofa. The family quickly learned not to do that, or argue, around the big dog, because Herc the barrafloofa wasn’t going to tolerate it.”


Geoflooftry (floofinition) – Branch of floofmatics that deals with the measurement, properties, and relationships of points, lines, angles, surfaces, and solids.

In use: “Most animals (but especially housepets) have a poor sense of geoflooftry, believing that they can fit, wedge, or shape themselves into any space, even if its one tenth of their size.”


Solipfloofsism (floofinition) – A theory holding that an animal can know nothing but its own modifications and that it is the only existent creature.

In use: “It was a constant war with the cat to keep it off of the kitchen counters, but the feline’s solipfloofsism didn’t allow her to accept that others could control her. It wasn’t possible.”

Water Dream

It was a water dream featuring Dad.

He and I lived in a house together. I was a teenager. Our house was pleasant and modern, with water features in the backyard.

We were going about the early morning with him talking to me about something as we were in the backyard. Hearing running water, I traced the source to a pipe sticking out of the house’s side beside the faucet. I’d never seen that on a house.

Water started flowing from it. I put my hand under it; it was was warm. I said, “Dad, I think something is wrong. There’s warm water coming out of this pipe.”

Dad said, “Yeah, we’d better check it out.” Then he went on about how he needed to go out and get something to eat. When he talked about the food, his choices appalled me. He was saying something about getting about a dozen sliders and I ended up asking him to get me a couple.

“But what about the water?” I asked.

“You take care of that for me,” he said.

I went into the house. Shock struck. Water was seeping out of everywhere. The kitchen floor was swollen with a huge lump in the middle. Horror seizing me, I thought, “This water is pent up and is going to burst, where are the valves, I need to shut the water off,” and ran to find the valves.

Dad returned (I don’t think he’d actually left but had been in another part of the house). I showed him the lump and leaks. I told him that I’d shut the water off. He said, “We’d better do something about that. Find someone to call.”

Ready for the pipes to burst, I dug out the phone book to call a plumber.

The dream ended.

Editing note: No, I didn’t get up and go to the bathroom.

Monday’s Theme Music

Counseling myself last night as I stepped out and hunted stars through the descending night fog, I thought about plans, and how easy it is to slip into a comfortable rut and let yourself stay there, successful in the rut to the detriment of everything else. I realized that I’d done that to myself. Easy to do, especially when the rut gives you joy.

My rut is writing. It satisfies me in so many ways, but it definitely steals energy from the rest of my life. I knew I had to shift myself out of my rut when I had my response to agents being interested in some of my work and my response was, meh. That’s just not right.

So I began hunting and shifting the mental and emotional levers to ply myself from my rut. More easily said, am I right? The duality of it all struck me. I’m a person that feels the darkness and rages about once a month, ready to shuck everything in fury and despair. Then that passes and I’m good to go again. I’m fortunate that I know my cycle and cope with it, but not fortunate that I have such a cycle. I’m fortunate, too, that I can see into myself and find the levers to change the cogs. This comes from being sixty plus and having friends and relatives who’d make comments to me that opened my awareness to how others see me, subsequently providing me with greater insight into myself. It comes from luck, too; others know these things but struggle more with it than me. (Yeah, and there’s a ton of other stuff, nature vs. nurture, socialization, genes, etc. We’re dynamic, complicated beings, always playing on the balance of a blade.)

Well, to the music, then, because this is about the day’s theme music. Into this crucible of thought flowed words from “Over My Head (Cable Car)” by The Fray (2005).

Everyone knows I’m in
Over my head
Over my head
With eight seconds left in overtime
She’s on your mind
She’s on your mind

h/t to for the lyrics, because it’s easier to get them right by copying and pasting.

It was that ‘eight seconds left in overtime’ that I keyed to, not that there was pressure, nor that time was running out, rather the impetus from the image of a sports game that¬†something needs to be done.¬†The goals are clear; now execute. Get ‘er done.

Laborious explanation for a song choice, innit? Happy Monday, campers. Cheers


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