Vifloofperation (floofinition) – Ann animal’s sustained and bitter railing, especially about imagined slights.
In use: “They had to close the puppy in a room because of a party, and the little canine immediately set up an unholy vifloofperation, clawing at the door, barking, whining, and howling.”
I was a younger person, male, bearded. I’d just arrived in a large green valley. Trees climbed the valley slopes. Pleasant weather welcomed us. At the valley’s floor, a river met an ocean.
I’d come to the valley leading people to safety. Now, just after arriving, I was told that they had to be taken away because the valley wasn’t safe any longer. After venting about the change and my belief that the new arrivals wouldn’t be happy, I set about looking for them and informing them the valley was now dangerous. Some were skeptical, forcing me to keep explaining, “I understand, but something has changed and it’s not safe for you here.” Reluctantly, person by person, family by family, people agreed to leave until I was down to one person.
This man was a fisherman. I saw him fishing down on the shore. He wore a red and black flannel shirt, a khaki fishing vest with matching floppy hat, and blue jeans, and was smoking a pipe. As I prepared to go down to him, I saw him get hooked — by his own hook. He was smiling about that, declaiming it as, “No big deal.” Then something began dragging him up and down the beach, back and forth. I have no idea what had him, but it used the hook and fishing line. As I gaped at the spectacle, an old man calmly walked along the beach. Coming to the line, he stuck a stake in the ground and wrapped the line around it a few minutes. The line went taut, stopping the fisherman’s crazy ride.
I normally use Edge during this life era. Today, after posting twice to WordPress, I found that WP no longer loaded. Gone was the ability to create a post, look at stats, or access Reader. I can access others’ posts; just can’t create my own. Switching to Chrome, I achieve success. Must be an Edge issue, then.
If you think this Wednesday is for the birds, it may be because it’s National Bird Day in the U.S. It’s also January 5, 2022. We have about three hundred sixty days until the new year, so hang in there.
The temperature has settled on 39 degrees F. We’re on the way to a high of 46 but clouds again have reduced the sunshine to graylight. Looks like rain out there, so bundle up. Sunrise came on like a slow spread at 7:40 AM and the sun will steal away at 4:53 PM.
My local friends are all buttoned down against COVID-19. All are vaxxed and boosted but all said, “Why risk it?” My wife and I had already decided the same. Gonna be a long winter.
As this is National Bird Day, songs with birds mentioned are in the morning mental stream. We have your robins, blackbirds, snow bird, freebird, night bird, nightingale, dove, and eagle. We also have a Flock of Seagulls. But then the neurons came up with Elton John and “High Flying Bird” from 1973. The album was Don’t Shoot Me, I’m Only the Piano Player. Released in my high school junior year, I found that it dragged too much or the album felt sort of thin. But then, there were certain days, when events and words dumped my mood into the shitter, that this album was good to listen to as a salve for my teenage soul, a good counterweight to Dark Side of the Moon and Quadrophenia. Now the song is part of a pleasant trip back through my head to that place and those people, and the accoutrement wondering of what happened to different folks. Some stories have been told; others were swallowed by life.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed and distance, and get the vax and boosters when you can. Who’s up for coffee besides me? Here’s the music. Cheers