Interfloofcutor(floofinition) – An animal who takes part in a dialogue or conversation.
In use: “Of course the bird was always an interfloofcutor, whether the conversation was on Zoom, a phone, or in person, but her participation always woke the cats, who also needed to join conversation, which brought out the Husky, who then added his opinions.”
It’s a soft Thursday morning, here in Ashland, Oregon. Blue skies hug the low mountains of changing colors. Cool air — 48 F — hugs our bodies. We expect it to reach the upper seventies today. Looking forward to it.
It’s September 30, 2021. I go through the old rhyme, “Thirty days has September,” confirming, this is the final September day, turning to look at the calendar in confirmation. Yes, September’s last day. It’s hectic in some places: the quarter’s last day. The last day of FY2021 in some realms. Spend the money, get the orders, book ’em, Dano, because the books are going to close. Such an artificial construct, but a critical element of book-keeping, accounting, sales, taxes, and profits and losses.
Sunrise was later yet, an effect felt in the house. Sunrise didn’t arrive until 7:07 AM. Lights were required for activities in different rooms, a dispiriting acknowledgement that the hours of daylight are drawing down. It’s my preference to get up to bright morning sun, like the sun we get in the summer mornings. But I like the fall’s ambiance and temperatures. Its occasional rain. It’s a friendlier season than summer, who can become quite brutal. Sunset will be at 6:54 PM. Too early for my taste, but wait: it’ll be earlier yet tomorrow, and so on, until we ‘fall back’ with our clocks. That takes place November 7 in the U.S. this year.
Today’s theme song arose from reading. I read a NY Times article yesterday evening ‘When the Times Book Review Panned the Classics’. What other doesn’t like reading how critics trashed great books and novelists? One of the books trashed was Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald. That’s also the title of a 1983 Jackson Browne song from an album I enjoyed, Lawyers in Love. My ever waiting mental music stream jumped onto the connection and played it in my head. I thought I’d played it for you.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and vax, if your body can handle it. Some people’s underlying conditions won’t react well to the COVID-19 vaccine. Do it if you can.
I dreamed about pennies again. They seem to be a recurring dream theme for me. In this particular one, I was knee deep in shiny new pennies. They were moving like the ocean. Swells of pennies rose and fell. Penny waves lapped against me and broke on my thighs.
I had a pushbroom. I was expected to push the pennies to one side. I laughed at this, saying, “This is crazy. These pennies are like water. How am I supposed to sweep them?” I kept muttering to myself about that and didn’t make much effort at sweeping them. Thinking about how new they appeared and also wanting to feel them — because they moved like water — I scooped up a handful of pennies. I looked at the date on one and saw, 2022. I began looking at as many as I could, searching for other dates. All I found was 2022.
Holding the pushbroom out to one side, I looked across the sea of pennies under a clear, dark blue sky. Far away to one side was a stretch of rising land. The sun just about them, drifting toward setting. I laughed and thought, “This is so cool.”
Flooflovian(floofinition) – Relating to classical conditioning conducted by an animal to create a predictable behavioral pattern.
In use: “The rescue cat, Elsa, was a flooflovian master, teaching her new ‘master’ to share her food, surrender her pillow, and generally do as the cat desired, mostly through purrs, gazes, and quiet meows.”
Hello, all you hep cats. Today is Wednesday, September 29, 2021. A sluggish sunrise sifted apricot hues over the valley at 7:06 AM. Sunset will be at 6:56 PM. Clear skies triumph. Temperatures sank to 42 F overnight but have climbed into the fifties at this point. We expect a high of seventy or higher today.
On a side note, wouldn’t it be amusing and chaotic if the cultural climate, politics, and technology reflected the temperature? Thinking of the US, of course. That’s what I know. With the temperature in the 50s, I look out to see 1950 Chevies, Cadillacs, and Fords go by. People are dressed for the year. The net has gone down because it doesn’t exist. Neither does this computer. In fact, it won’t reach a temperature for me to have a laptop at hand. We’d reach the seventies today. Bellbottoms would abound.
I have a friend who uses the expression Hell’s bells quite often. This amuses me. I’d heard the expression often as a child by older adults, like Grandpa Paul. So I associate the expression to them. The friend who employs it isn’t as old as Grandpa — he would have been 130 years old at this point — and is only fifteen years older than me. But fifteen years older makes him eighty! You have to laugh at it, right? Anyway, in the context of thinking of him, I began using Hell’s bells to curse at some point of the day when something happened. Naturally, my mental music stream picked up on it and replied, “Playing ‘Hell’s Bells’ by AC/DC.” So now I have the song stuck in the stream. To be sure, it’s actually only the opening that’s stuck: my mind keep replying the song until the first chorus of “Hell’s bells” is sung. Then it starts again. Yes, I’m in a broken mental music stream loop. I keep hitting myself, hoping to jar it into normalcy. Ain’t working.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get vaccines and boosters. Here’s the song. Check out the video and how young AC/DC members look. Reflect on your own life and youth. Enjoy. Cheers