Different floofs leave these places
with bits of fur and other traces
bite marks, claw scratches,
round dimples in furniture
where they made their beds
their scents fade
and the signs disappear
but we remember these floofs
which we hold so dear
Defloofciation
Defloofciation (floofinition) – 1. The loss of love and caring for an animal, such as a family pet.
In use: “Pets often suffer from defloofciation, becoming abandoned as families move away, leaving them behind, a situation that often angers, sickens, and disgusts true animal lovers.”
2. The reduction of animals in a home.
In use: “Once she had several cats and two dogs, but her declining health soon forced defloofciation, and now she had many pictures of former pets, and just one who lived with her.”
Sunday’s Theme Music
Spring has a solid grip on this Sunday, May 2, 2021. Clouds tinker with the sunshine. Mountain breezes manipulate the temperature. Snow remnants haunts mountains on the valley’s other side, above shadowy stretches of green that turn into deep jade.
Sunshine first broke cover at 6:05 AM, and will flee for the night at 8:11 PM. Our highs will seek now familiar ranges in the lower sixties.
We ride the unending roller coaster of COVID-19 news around here, up one day, down the next. Vaccinations have stolen past 28% of Oregon’s population. Jackson County, where I call home, had shown a disturbing trend, with the seven-day averaging climbing. It peaked at 49 a few days ago. Now we’re down to 41. We’ve been through this before. After Christmas and New Year, the cases had been declining. Then they rose to levels not recorded since last November.
We visited Curry County last week. The seven-day average had increased from three to four cases there. A relatively remote location on Oregon’s coast, reached by Highway 101 going north and south, they haven’t suffered many cases, but have experienced the morale of businesses being shut, lockdown, and social distancing. Disappointing to note that some businesses had signs up requiring masks, but weren’t enforcing it. On the whole, though, masks were worn, usually correctly, and distancing practiced.
Today’s song is the 1981 Stray Cats song, “Rock This Town”. The song arrived on neurons’ back, their origins unknown, joyous vagabonds stealing through my brain with their musical message. I like the song, so I went with it. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get that vax. Cheers
The Sentencing Dream
I dreamed I’d been caught doing something wrong. Although I can’t recall details, it wasn’t major, like killing anyone, but constituted a significant failure on my part. A short trial found me guilty. Punishment was forthcoming.
I sulked, alone, although surrounded by others, none that I knew of as family nor friend. Returning to where I was staying, I discovered everything being rearranged. My room had been changed, which infuriated me. The whole place was dimly light, very dark, full of shadows. Seeking the common area where I thought I’d read and watch television, really, do anything to distract myself, I found a man there re-arranging everything. “Part of a big project,” he explained. I wanted to know more about this big project. Everything familiar was gone. The books and television had been removed, as had the chairs. The windows were covered, along with every exit except one door. Maroons and dark blues dominated. There was an old carnival funhouse feel to the room.
My exasperation leaped. “What’s going on? What’s the point of all of this?” The guy working on it, snide, young, smug, white, and bald, refused to explain anything, acting as though it was all above me. I had little grounds to do anything because I’d lost my authority as I awaited sentencing.
This drove me to attempt to leave the room. Extricating myself wasn’t as easy as it should have been, as others were coming through the door. Taking initiative, I found a panel which resembled a stylized red and white question mark. I was able to swivel it up and to the left, then leveraged myself out through the small opening.
Although I was outside my shared quarters, I was still in a building; it was buildings in a building. I was wondering when my sentence was going to come down. Maybe the delay was good news. Maybe it was bad. I walked around, spotting some familiar faces, including the judge who’d sentenced me. A few years older than me, he’d been boss and casual friend. Seeing me, he smiled and waved, but the turned away. Others, though, who’d been cool, were suddenly friendly. I’d been feeling like a pariah, I realized, but now they seemed to be letting me back in.
It was giving me hope. The dream ended on that note.
Floof O’clock
Floof O’clock (Floofinition) – Time set by animals to do something.
In use: “Every morning, Papi set his internal sundial to floof o’clock, which was hours before the sun dared to squint out, rising to yowl for food, to be let out (and then back in) (and then back out), searching for the answer to the new mystery every day, ‘where is the sun?'”
Obsfloofian
Obsfloofian (floofinition) – An animal who is black as obsidian.
In use: “Obsfloofians such as black cats and dogs are often awarded names like Onyx or Midnight, but seeking a new direction, Karla named her obsfloofian, “T’Challa”, an homage to her favorite movie and her favorite actor.”
Ten Floofs After
Ten Floofs After (floofinition) – Flock (floof-rock) Floofish blues band best known for their legendary Floofstock performance. Originally formed in 1960 in Floofsfield, the band first had the name Ivan Floof and the Floofcats before changing their name to Ten Floofs After in 1966. Always a four floof combo, their greatest commercial success came in the period of 1966-1974.
In use: “Ten Floofs After appeared at Floofstock in 1970, when their infloofdescent performance of “I’m Going Floof” cemented their reputation in the Floofnited States as a hard-charging blues-influenced flock band.”
Saturday’s Theme Music
Mother, May I? Yes, you may.
Yes, it’s May 1, 2021, a Saturday, for official transcripts. 2021’s fifth month has leaped onto our backs, the preceding four months going by on express rails. Sunanigins began in Ashland at 0607 and will cease at 2010.
We were over on Oregon’s coast, admiring the Pacific Ocean, for the last several days. An enchanting host, the Pacific gurgled with bright sunshine and flirted with fog. I love hearing the waves booming over the rocks with great explosive thuds that send shivers through the earth. Amazing.
Back in Ashland, the weather service claims the the days have been sunny and in the eighties in Ashland. If so, the weather slipped us a change up. April showers are falling, though it’s May. I’m for it; give us more rain, please. We’ve already had reports of wildfires. Fire services scrambled and put them all out, but it does give the day an edge to read about this.
Musically, I’m humming the song, “Down Down” by Status Quo (1974). It’s a rockin’ song. Driven by that line, “You’ll be back to find your way, again, again, again, again” (don’t know how many times they say again there), I was thinking, okay, back to writing. You took three days off. Need to get back to it. That’s sort of a party trick for writers, to find your way back, again, again, again, again, etc. That’s why the song occupies my mind space this morning.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get the vax. That is all.
Michael Seidel, writer 