Floofetry (floofinition) – Sonnets, odes, rhymes, and verses about animals.
In use: “One of the more famous examples of floofetry begins, ‘Oh, I wish that I will someday see, a poem as lovely as a floof, although we know most floofs are goofs, and those who live with them have the proof.'”
Only recall one dream from last night, but it was bold, sharp, and clear. Back in the military (again), I was trying to help a younger person, who was also in the military. This involved helping three young kittens while the airman was simultaneously trying to organize assistance and travel for a group of her peers. Located outside the U.S., she’d come to me for help contacting the powers-that-be back in the U.S. for some authorizations. I was generally/usually the correct contact for these matters in a unit, but this time, I’d not been given that authorization for some reason. I explained that to the airman. She kept pressing. We took it up the chain as I explained to the wing commander and unit commanders that I couldn’t help her because I’d not been given the authority in this instance.
(Meanwhile, the kittens kept disappearing (often in bed clothes and blankets), but I always recovered them, keeping them protected, and feeding them until I handed them off to someone who could foster them full time.)
The commanders all agreed, that was a temporary oversight and didn’t matter, dismissing it, certain that it was going to be rectified right away. While I couldn’t believe that they were so dismissive, the airman exuded a ‘told you’ air.
The dream ended.
Welcome back to another edition of Tuesday. Today is April 6, 2021. It’s coolish today, 42 degrees F, with mild threats of rain showers. Spring is enveloping our valley with blossoms, buds, and blooms. Tulips, daffodils, and star asters are abundant, setting senses aflame with their sweet fragrance and bold beauty. Ms Sun appeared at 6:45 AM in Ashland. She expects to spend the day with us before jetting out of sight at 7:42 PM. During that period, it’s anticipated that we’ll get warmer.
We’re scheduled for the J&J one-dose COVID-19 vaccination this weekend. Oregon had shifted eligibility. The lowered bar now includes us, folks in our lower sixties without children and minor health issues. Other states are including everyone over eighteen, so PROGRESS!
Dad remains in the hospital, experiencing edema. He and his wife were vaccinated against COVID-19 months ago. They’re not certain what’s causing the edema. He’s now been in there two weeks as they address built up fluid in his legs. Eighty-nine this year, he’s been medicating for COPD for years (after being a Lucky Strikes smoker (LSMFT), pipe smoker, and cigar smoker), along with minor kidney matters. He’s usually a good hospital patient, he tells me (and his wife agrees), but this visit has him on a low sodium diet. The limited food choice is making him cranky.
I woke up singing “In A Big Country” by Big Country this morning. Not infrequently, sunshine and sprawling green vistas summon this 1983 song to emerge from the deep memory well into consciousness.
Been writing like crazy every day. I’m closing on the end of the first draft of the novel-in-progress. I’m one who modifies and edits as I progress, tidying pacing and story, clarifying details, and sharpening focus as I go. I’ve also been reading a great deal, two to three books a week. Last week was Transcriptions (Kate Atkinson), Echo Burning (Lee Child), and Under a Midnight Sun (Keigo Higashino). This week, it’s The Night Watchman (Louise Erdrich), Circe (Madeline Miller), and The Sentinel (Lee Child with Andrew Child).
Still keeping up with my walking, too (knock on wood), achieving at least twelve miles per day, averaging 12.3 miles per day for the last six months. It’s a lot easier with the long days of sunshine and comfortable weather.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get the vax. Got my coffee. Gonna go write like crazy, at least one more time.