Gigantofloof
Gigantofloof – (floofinition) – A very large animal.
In use: “Although size is relative among species and breeds, families, etc., most people seeing Logan, aka Moose, thought, wow, what a gigantofloof, especially when his tiny mother cat was beside him.”
Monday’s Theme Music
We’ve reached the beginning again, following another calendar cycle, another week, as the world turns, giving us day and night, and we revolve around the sun, flashing through seasons, while the solar system revolves around the galaxy and the galaxy heads somewhere in the universe. And the universe itself might be going somewhere. It’s a lot to take in on a Monday in April, 2022. Thank cat I’ve had some coffee.
Today is the 18th. More than half of April has been lived, and almost a third of 2022. Sol crested the hills and mountains at 6:26 this morning, illuminating the area, showing us some idea of our weather. It’s hazy, cloudy, misty, wet, and sunny. It was 34 at dawn but now, just a few hours later, we’re arrived at 49, and have the low sixties in our sights before sunset at 7:55 PM.
I have 38 Special singing “Caught Up in You” from 1982 caught up in the morning mental music stream’s flow. It’s just the neurons playing with memories and word association and so on, saying, hey, remember 1982? Hey, remember this song? While so many memories are dependent on smells or deeply linked to them, I have similar linkages with music and television shows. I don’t think I’m anything special in that regard, more of part of the new shift in senses and memory associated with evolving technology. I think smell got a head start on memories because smell was ubiquitous and music wasn’t around much, and television wasn’t invented in humanity’s early years.
Ah, that gave me a laugh. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, etc. I have my coffee but I think a leftover cinnamon muffin is trying to get my attention in the kitchen. Here’s the music. Enjoy your day. Cheers
An Easter Memory
Preparing for an Easter brunch with friends prompted my neurons to pull up a memory. I was young, in my crewcut years. Honing in on the period, I was living in Wilkinsburg, PA, attending Turner Elementary School on Laketon Road, and going to my grandparents’ house in Irwin for Easter. So, it was 1964 and I was seven going on eight.
Dad was in Turkey or Greece on military assignment. He and Mom were divorced, and she was now a single mother working as a Bell Telephone operator, raising me and two sisters. I was the middle in this child sandwich. Mom and my Dad’s parents coordinated an Easter visit, probably so Mom could work the holiday and get the extra pay. She went all out that year, buying us new Easter clothes. It was a suit for me – blue and cream houndstooth jacket with a smart dark blue vest which matched my dark blue pants. I wore a clip-on tie. Black and white photographic evidence exists somewhere, but they’re in boxes on shelves in the garage that require an expedition along the lines of an archaeological expedition looking for a lost civilization, so it’ll need to hold for another day. On that Easter morning, we found three enormous baskets waiting for us. We were spoiled children, so there were large chocolate bunnies, jelly beans, peeps, marshmallow eggs, hard-boiled eggs which we’d dyed the day before, and a large coconut chocolate egg, all in pink, yellow, and green baskets with fake green grass made out of fine, shiny plastic. After discovering our baskets, we hunted for eggs around the apartment and then dressed in our new duds. My Uncle Bill, Dad’s youngest brother, picked us up in his brown Plymouth Fury and conveyed us to grandma and grandpa’s where we dined with all the area aunts, uncles, and cousins. Grandpa prepared his favorite, a ham. He baked one whenever he had a chance. (Uncle Bill would trade in that Fury in a few years and buy a year-old dark green Dodge Charger that had me and my friends drooling on its vinyl bucket seats. It was such a cool car.)
Mom joined us after dinner. The adults told us to go play or watch television while they gathered in the dining room for card games, focusing on the traditional family favorite, Tripoli. They were all smoking back then – Pall Mall, Lucky Strike, Kent, Kool. Several adults enjoyed beer such as American lagers like Iron City and Stroh’s, but whiskey sours were also very popular.
Yes, it’s my favorite memory. Smelling a Pall Mall or one of those other cigarettes whisks me right back there. It’s rare that such smoke touches my nose in these days. As for those beers, I found them light and tasteless. Over in Japan, I often indulged in beer from Australia and New Zealand. In Europe, I drank whatever was brewed in that country, but they had some excellent offerings everywhere. By the time I returned to the US, the craft brew industry was booming.
Today, though, brunch with friends outside, with the sun shining and laughter ringing across the yard, will be another favorite memory. Another favorite, but of another kind. Nobody smoked cigarettes. No alcohol was consumed. A potluck brunch, salmon was served with grilled asparagus along with several sorts of potato dishes, delicious quiches, fruit salad, and cinnamon muffins.
It’s a long, long way from Pittsburgh, PA, in 1965 to Ashland, OR, 2022.
Sunday’s Theme Music
Today is Sunday, 4/17, 2022, Easter in America. Sunrise at 6:27 AM was a bright but not sharply warm affair as a cottony line of clouds pilfered the sun’s impact. The valley will spin away from the sun at 7:54 PM. Right now, it’s reached 40 F locally, up from 36 at dawn. We anticipate hitting 60 today, but it’ll be a slow cook.
We have Easter plans. Besides calling Mom later, my wife and I are joining some pagans, atheists, Christians, and Jews for an outdoor brunch. We’re taking roasted potatoes and cinnamon swirl cupcakes. The cupcakes were made yesterday, all the wife’s doing but from a mix, while we prepared the taters this AM. They’re roasting now.
“Renegade” by Styx from 1978 is playing in the morning mental music stream. This came about from a conversation last night. We were in the snug. I was watching an episode of the Swedish show, “Beck”, focusing on the subtitles. My wife said, “It looks like somebody wants you.” I knew she meant the orange boy, Papi. He enjoys sitting in the doorway and firing green-eye lasers at me, barking out an occasional truculent mew to announce he needs something. Looking over at the feline, I said, “Looks like I’m a wanted man.”
Boom! The neurons slotted “Renegade” into my mind music, where it has played sporadically ever since, sometimes alternating with “Whatever Gets You Through the Night”. Of course, “Renegade” is a song the Pittsburgh Steelers play at Heinz Field, and I’m a Steelers fan since 1969, so there’s sentimental attachments with the song.
Here’s the music. Enjoy the sound while I enjoy my coffee and dress for my brunch. Stay positive, test negative, etc. Cheers
Ah, Another Military Dream
I was a younger man, actually my age when I retired from the military in RL. I was dressed in a common uniform of the day, the woodland camouflage battle dress that I often wore.
I’d been invited back for a visit. In most of my assignments, contact was limited to a dozen people in a unit; I worked in a command post, one to three people to a shift, locked in a vault-like space. No windows, one door, eight to twelve hours a shift. People weren’t allowed in without proper clearance, previous approval, and a reason to be there. We were often armed, in case someone who didn’t fit those parameters broke in.
But there was one unit where I worked regularly with aircrews, the training staff, admin, etc. Everyone had access to me, and me to them. This was the unit where I felt closest to my co-workers.
These were the people I was back visiting. We’d been a covert intelligence unit back in the day, but the Berlin Wall fell, the USSR collapsed, and our mission ended. I went back to the US to Space Command. Many in that unit went on to special ops, gunships, or on loan to do drug interdiction on behalf of the DEA. It was this last that was going on in the dream.
We were outside in a large field. I was back by special invitation to watch a military operation, and people from then were back by invitation to see me. Several came back and told me what they’d done since we’d last seen one another thirty years ago. One of the last, Capt. Z, said, “I think it’s time for me to go.” He was hesitant to speak. I said, “No, you’re too young. You still have more to give.”
He shrugged. “I think it’s time. I don’t have a choice.”
He left. The operation progressed. An officer said, “Now Priscilla will explain how the unit coordinates with other agencies to intercept and track illegal drug activities.” Priscilla began leading several squadrons of personnel in military uniforms across a wide street.
As I watched that, I realized that it was Priscilla, a RL friend from my current era, a college professor who had never been in the military. I thought, why is she here?
Dream end.
Michael Seidel, writer 