UBFloofy (floofinition) – Flooflish reggae floof band. Established in 1978 in Floofhingham, the band is credited with numerous hits and awards, and have an international fan following.
In use: “One of UBFloofy’s early hit songs, “Red Red Floof”, a cover of the Floof Diamond song, reached number one for the band in Floofnited Kingdom.”
Quick Paw (floofinition) – 1. Trick taught among animals. Along with Stealth Paw and Quick Bite, one of the preferred methodologies for stealing food.
In use: “The old dog quietly took the new puppy into his floofidence and showed him the Quick Paw, stealing a sandwich off a plate and making his escape before it was noticed.”
2. Legendary cat known for her fast slashing and ability to steal objects, especially food, in less than an eyeblink.
In use: “Some say that Quick Paw is but a myth, but others look around, see their food missing, and wonder.”
- Had an unsettling dream last night. Not a nightmare, but a dream that I didn’t understand. After writing about it, I decided not to share it.
- I watch the NFL. The refs fascinate me. Some of them seem like they’re so disappointed when they announce penalties. “False start, offense, number forty-three.” You can almost see him sigh. “Five year penalty,” is delivered with regret. “Remains first down.” I wonder what they’re like in their non-football lives.
- I said, “Don’t fear the android.” I was making a joke while re-watching Dark Matters on Netflix. My wife said, “Oh, that’d be a good book title.” It has me thinking.
- Several of my wife’s friends encountered her this past week. Always masked and distanced. They emailed her later. One said that she started crying in her car afterward because it’d been so long since she’d enjoyed a friendly, spontaneous conversation with someone outside their pod. Another said that she teared up after dropping off holiday goods on the porch (and picking some up from us, which were awaiting her on the porch). Human contact is so random and remote.
- My cancer-inflicted friend is out of the hospital and back home. Friends are calling him to wish him well. I want to do so but I’m terrible with small talk. Not good with the phone. Terrible with socializing in general. He stays in my thoughts but I should call. I’m probably overthinking it.
- Likewise, the cancer-affected friend across country is out of the hospital and at home, going through treatment there. We exchange messages but I sense his energy is low. He was always such an upbeat, energetic person. He’s my age, too, which amplifies the impact, right?
- It is interesting, maddening, and shocking to witness what friends are doing in other parts of the country. Social distancing and masking isn’t part of their routines. Some have even gone in for elective surgery. One is dating. We respond, WTF? And we worry about them, but they remain blissfully ignorant. Come on, vaccine.
- Meanwhile, two other relatives have been diagnosed with COVID-19. One was intubated on Friday. She’d gone in for elective surgery on a toe earlier in the month.
- My broken left arm continues its recovery process. It sort of becomes entangled and stiff at night as I bend it under my body. But reach, movement, flexibility, and strength are all improving. One frustrating thing: scratching. I still can’t bend my left hand to scratch my back and several other (ahem) places.
- My wife didn’t make us a soup last Sunday, the first time in weeks. Holiday baking occupied her — and the kitchen. I did my part; my role is decorating. I was disappointed with the gels and frosting. It blobbed and sputtered. They were okay, but not great. That’s about half of the batch. They’re PB Rice Krispies bars dipped in white chocolate or chocolate bark, more like a candy bar than a cookie. (That’s them in the photo.) She also made peppermint cookies and my favorite, cranberry cupcakes with drizzled frosting. Today’s soup in progress is a smoky lentil with garbanzo beans. Chilly day, in the forties, diluted sunshine. Looking forward to it with some hot buttered ciabatta bread.
- I thought writing was going well. Then I read a paragraph last night which had me wincing, groaning, and gagging. Press on, finish the draft, then come back, right? Yeah. Got my coffee. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time. Oh, yeah, and the soup is ready.
Sipping coffee, looking out the window, I was thinking of the season. I’d just asked Alexa about the time for sunrise and sunset today. I’m getting ready for the solstice. I’m not a fan of the shortened period of daylight. I like Ms Sun. She and I go waaayyy back. To me, ocean and sun with a little beach is la perfect combo.
There’s no snow out there this morning but calendar thoughts took me to the notion that Christmas is next week. Kwanza and Chanukah are already in session. Queuing up behind this week is New Year’s, then Biden is inaugurated. The vaccine is being distributed. Did I dare dream that change is coming?
These thoughts ’bout what’s comin’ led me to Three Dog Night’s cover of “Eli’s Coming” from 1969. Took three shakes of a neuron to do a thought mash up, combining Christmas is coming with “Eli’s Coming”. Such an adaptation could be a perfect holiday song.
Everywhere I go, though
Chanukah’s a-comin’ (She walked, but she’ll never get away)
Kwanza’s a-comin’ (She walked, but she’ll never get away)
Christmas a-comin’ (She walked, but she’ll never get away)
Sorry, it was BC, that horrible period of the morning before coffee has reassured my brain. Happy holidays to you. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, get a vaccine, and stay sane. Cheers