Floofspringa

Floofspringa (floofinition) – Rite of passage in a young animal’s life commemorated by running briskly around, jumping, and making substantial noise. Rutting might also be involved. Also sometimes spelled Floofschpringe or Floofshpringa.

In use: “Cats, of course, never keep to a standardized calendar or date regarding Floofspringa, going Floofspringa nuts whenever the impulse seized them, which was often while humans are asleep and the sun is below the horizon.”

Saturday’s Theme Music

Technically, Saturday, 9/18/2021, began at midnight. But we don’t usually acknowledge those morning hours between midnight and rising as part of that day, do we? Well, we do, in a way. It’s a confused state. Because most don’t think of the day starting until they get up. Even though it’s often started hours before.

Smoke played with the sunshine yesterday, lifting the color of a champagne mango’s skin into the space over our heads. Not today. This is Gray Day.

Sunrise struggled to bring anything this morning. Clouds and smoke skewered the sun’s efforts into graylight. Happened about 6:54 AM. But. Rain began at 6:59 AM around my house. I know. This weather change had infused the cats with a youthful, exuberant energy. They were dashing around, going in and out through the pet door, meyelling at one another. Then they wanted food. So I was up to feed them when the first portent of rain came, tink, tink, tink, on the exhaust fan metal protection up on the room.

The initial rain session was a mildly hard one. First I went out to gage it and smell the air. Still smoky. If rain begins as a mist and we assign that a one, and a monsoon drenching is a ten, this was a fall shower, about 3.5. A fall shower is a lot like a spring shower except it smells different.

I returned to bed after that, listening to the rain while warm and cozy. The rain stopped at 7:31. Then started again at 7:35. Wasn’t as hard though. Been going at it until tapering off to stumbling sporadic drops after ninety minutes. Nice having rain in this parched, drought-plagued and fire plagued area, but we really wanted something about a five or a six on my imaginary scale.

Highs today are projected to be in the upper sixties. Might fire up the fireplace, you know? Sunset is planned for 7:15 PM.

But of course a rain song has mindjacked the mental music stream. A 1986 venture by The Pogues, “Rainy Night in Soho”, came up. It’s odd, though, how the brain works. I was hearing the rain. Then remembered conversations. Which prompted me to think of phantom conversations. Things I wished had been said. That kicked in the line, “I hear you talking in my head.” Stopped me in my mental tracks. That was a song. Some rummaging through the cranial zones finally dragged it fully in.

I like this song because it’s different. More like an essay with music. Shane McGowan’s voice and delivery are introspective and blasé. It’s actually a great song when we’re with others having a drink after a long day when rain is pelting down. But it does serve as foundation for thinking about the day, what was, and what will be.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax. Here’s the music. Now, where’s the coffee? Cheers

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