Floofzanne Vega

Floofzanne Vega (floofinition) – Floofmerican singer, songwriter, and musician known for her folk-inspired music. First achieving floofminence in the mid 1980s with singles that variously entered the Top 40 charts in the Floofnited States, Floofnited Kingdom, and Floofstralia during the 1980s and 1990s, her music career spans close to forty years.

In use: “One of Floofzanne Vega’s most well-known songs, “Tom’s Dinner Dish”, charted well in the FS, FK, and Irefloof as the version recorded with FloofNA was often played on Rhythm and Floof circuits.”

Sleep Easy

I’ve been reading about sleeping (yeah, researching). I’ve always been one to fall asleep quickly and easily, in almost any location. I’ve gone to sleep in waiting rooms, cars and aircraft (military and commercial), and tents during a typhoon. One of those times in the typhoon, my wife was with me. She claimed that the tent was blowing away and I was dead asleep. Coincidentally, after that trip, she declared that roughing it required a hotel room and a chocolate on her pillow. On another occasion when I was a teen, Dad and his wife (yeah, my step Mom) awoke me to take cover in the living room floor because of a tornado. I went in there and went to sleep. According to my step Mother, so did Dad. She couldn’t believe it.

Then I came across the claim that people don’t fall out of bed while sleeping.

News to me. I’ve fallen out of bed twice in my lifetime. Both happened in my early teens, and in my usual bed. I was stone sober, I swear! Didn’t drink nor indulge in drugs then (as if drugs and are regular pals now – we’re not), and wasn’t sick. Just floomp. Out of bed and onto the floor.

I decided to cast a wider research net and leaped to the web. Research revealed that this is a REM Sleep Disorder. Ohhh, okay. They went on to talk about people acting out their dreams.

That’s another thing I’ve been known to do. The book claimed that people experience paralysis during sleep to keep them from thrashing about and hurting themselves or others. Tales are circulated around my family about me thrashing in my sleep. Three immediately spring to mind. Once, I came down to breakfast. Taking a look at me, Mom asked, “What happened to your eye?” I didn’t know what she was talking about. My sister said, “He hit himself.”

Wearing a mystified expression, Mom naturally went, “He hit himself?” I stared without comprehension about what my sister was saying. Sis went on, “I heard noises coming from your room so I went in. You were fighting with your pillow.”

“Fighting with my pillos?”

“Then you swung at it and hit yourself.” I scoffed, of course. I didn’t remember any of it. Sis swore it was true.

During a second night thrashing, my cousin was sleeping over. We were sharing a bed. He awoke to discover me on my hands and knees beside him. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Looking for worms.”

As he said, “Worms,” I lunged forward with a shout, “There’s one,” and managed to hit him. That’s when I awoke and he told the story.

Third time was with my wife. We’d been married a few years when she woke me. “What are you doing?” I asked. “Why’d you wake me?” I was pretty cross about being awoken out of a solid sleep.

She replied, “You were moving around, and then started swinging your fists. I was afraid you were going to hit me.”

All this time, I had no idea that I have a mild sleep disorder. I wonder if it’s in any way associated with my ability to sharply recall dreams. I’ve deliberately curtailed remembering dreams to a significant degree. Making efforts recalling dreams ends up eating a chunk of time because I remember — or tell myself that I do, perhaps — a great deal. Besides that, the dreams show recurring patterns and get boring, like watching movies with different titles but interchangeable plots. I enjoy driving dreams, thought. I’m usually driving sports cars like Ferraris, BMWs, or Porsches, and I’m often driving them through snow, but enjoying myself.

That’s probably the best aspect of dreams that I recall. Many make little sense but through them all, I seem to enjoy myself. I rest easy with that.


Infloofmountable (floofinition) – An animal’s behavior that can’t be controlled or abated.

In use: “The dog’s desire to be free to run around at top speed was an infloofmountable trait, making the hound a constant flight risk, and enforcing the need for constant vigfloolance.”

Saturday’s Theme Music

Good morning! Today is Saturday, February 13, 2021. Sunrise was at 7:10 AM and sunset in Ashland, Oregon, is expected at 5:41 PM. Outside the windows, sun and rain compete for dominance. Clouds stack up and surround blue sky like disapproving parents. The current temperature is 42 degrees F.

Trump’s second impeachment trial dominates the U.S. headlines (witnesses are going to be called, you know), along with the weather. An enormous winter storm is moving across the nation, chasing the temperatures down the thermometer into that freezing range where few are comfortable. Snow and ice has caused power failures, traffic accidents, and deaths in multiple regions.

The Wayback Machine remains active in my brain. I was stuck with “Give My Regards to Broadway” in my head. It started yesterday afternoon while I was taking a long walk. I really don’t know why. Part of the process I suffered was that I couldn’t remember the name of the square mentioned in the song. I looked it up this morning, confirming that it’s Harold Square. When I sang that last night in search of the truth, it sounded wrong. So did every other name plugged in there.

Joining that song in the night’s middle was a song by the Turtles, “Happy Together” from 1967. I decided it’ll work for today’s theme music. Oddly, I had a cousin who couldn’t get his head around the phrase, “No matter how they tossed the dice, it had to be.” Although he was older by a month, I spent endless hours trying to explain what the phrase meant. Exasperating.

Stay warm, safe, and positive. Test negative. Wear a mask and get vaccinated. Sing along to the bouncy music. Cheers

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