Floofhouse (2)

Floofhouse (floofinition) – Floofnadian flock (floof rock) band formed in 1968. Their sound reflects a blend of jazz, flock, classical, and swing music. They remained active intermittently with shifting line-ups through the present year.

In use: “One of Floofhouse’s 1971 releases was “Floof It Slow (Out in the Country)”, which performed well on charts in Floofnada and was certified gold.”


Lugfloofrious (floofinition) – Looking or sounding like a very sad or dismal animal.

In use: “The elderly cat looked at her and released a lugfloofrious noise that changed her plans for the day and resulted in sharing her life with one of the sweetest creatures she’d ever known, Miss Gunnila Shugafly.”

Stick To It

Are you familiar with the Gorilla Glue Girl’s hair-mix-up fiasco? Out of a needed product, she made a decision that didn’t work as planned. The mistake earned her time as the web’s focus. Her fortunes spilled over into an SNL skit last Saturday.

I feel for her. Making bad decisions and mistakes is a human trait. The worst I’ve usually done is grabbed the wrong keys or the wrong sunglasses. Although there was one time when I was carrying one thing for the refrigerator and another for the trash and was about to put the one in the other but then caught myself.

I’ve had moments of panic when I thought I did the wrong thing. Once, when I was sixteen, I boarded a Greyhound bus to head south. I’d been up visiting Mom in Pittsburgh, PA. Now I was traveling south to southern West Virginia, where I lived with Dad. I don’t know what the deal is. It was late, like after ten PM. I may have fallen asleep. Next thing that I know, the bus was moving and the driver was talking about stops in Florida.

Florida! Man, I didn’t want to go to Florida. I was going home. But a little later, he announced, like an afterthought, “We’ll be in Charleston, West Virginia, in about three hours.”

Some time was required before my breathing returned to normal and the sweat dried on my body. I did not go to sleep again; I stayed awake, fearful of ending up far away from where I wanted to be.

No, wait; the worst was when I was checking out of an Atlanta hotel. I’d been there for a week on business. Now it was time to roll for the airport. Part of my travel routine is to slip my retired military ID into my shirt pocket for easy access when I’m going through security. I also think it saves time identifying me should the plane ever crash. My photo ID would be right there in my shirt. It’ll work if I still have my shirt on after the accident, if the ID isn’t thrown from the pocket, and if my face isn’t mangled or burned past the point that a photo ID would help.

Anyway, on this day as I headed out of the hotel, I dropped my plastic hotel key card into the box for that purpose and headed for the airport. Then I arrived there and found, oh, shit, you guessed it: I’d dropped off my military ID instead of my card key.

Well, I immediately called the hotel, explained it all, and asked them to overnight it via FedEx on my company’s account, so problem solved.

What about you? Do you have a story to share that shows how you commiserate with G3’s predicament that you’re willing to share?

A Jag Dream

Back into cars for last night’s dream. This car didn’t belong to me, but to a late uncle. He never owned a car like this, to my knowledge.

The car was a silver 1967 Jaguar E-type roadster. Calling it silver, I want to stipulate that it was so bright and polished, it seemed almost chromium. Absolutely stunning.

I was agog over it in the dream, where I was a young man in my late teens. He’d given me the honor of cleaning it and I did a damn thorough job. Afterwards, I proudly showed him what I’d done, opening the doors, bonnet, and trunk to display my results. He was duly impressed. After I returned his keys to him, he returned them to me. Turning away, he tossed a walk off: “Why don’t you take it for a drive.” Delighted and incredulous, I replied, “Are you serious?”

“Sure,” he answered. “You earned it.”

(I couldn’t find a photo of a silver Jag roadster, and none could be as silver as the one in my dream. Sorry, but this will need to suffice to show what kind of car it was.)

Monday’s Theme Music

Good morning. Welcome to another Monday. Today is February 15, 2021. It’s 39 degrees F outside. An unrelenting sky whispers, “No sun for you.” Today’s sunrise was at 7:07 AM. Sunset is expected at 5:43 PM.

We’re harvesting rain water this week. After collecting it in bowls, we strain and drain into gallon jugs. Rain water is wonderful for rinsing hair after shampooing/conditioning.

Raindrops chilled my skin and dampened my hair while I was out there. Words came along.

Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins

After returning to the house, I noodled through those words in search of more, i.e., when, where, who. Then other activities pushed it aside for a while. Remembering the words morning, I searched and was rewarded. These are words to Natasha Bedingfield’s song “Unwritten”. As I went through an, oh, yeah, moment, I read the other lyrics.

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

h/t to Metrolyrics.com

Head-scratching, oh, yeah. Feeling rain on my skin drew the song out from some inner folds. Thought this mellow sound works well for this rain-zone day. Here it is, fresh from 2003. Wear a mask. Stay positive, test negative, and get vaccinated. Cheers

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