Mom has lived in many cities, states, houses, and apartments. He’s now in his mid-sixties. She’s almost ninety. There’s been many changes, but she still has the same salt and pepper shakers that they used when he was a little boy.
Flooftivism
Flooftivism (floofinition) – Practice or doctrine that dictates active behavior in support of animals.
In use: “Galaxy Jackson has risen to fame based on his flooftivism and his focus on improving life for cats and relationships between cats and others.”
Stalemate
It’s a classic conundrum: who will eat the last piece of blueberry pie? Everyone is being polite, telling others to take it. It’s been over twelve hours.
How much longer will the stalemate last?
A Militant Dream
I was at the bottom of a sloping paved lot. A young friend was walking further above me. Machete in hand and weird grin on his face, I shouted at him to stop. When he didn’t, I felt that I didn’t have a choice but to shoot him. I did, killing him. Oddly, there was no blood and no one saw what I did. I walked away, hugely sad by what had happened. I walked around for a while. It was some sort of quasi-military complex. Others were working but I was in charge, and they left me alone, keeping a respectful distance from me as I walked and brooded.
Watching the skies and listening, I perceived that an attack was eminent. I don’t know who was attacking. They didn’t expect us to be prepared but I had other ideas. Jumping into a sports car, I drove down a hill and slid to a stop. Another person was there. I told him, “Go tell everybody with a car who is a good driver to bring their car own here.”
The first arrived, a young, skinny black guy in a silver Starion. He did a power slide and a little drifting on his arrival. Telling him, “Stay in the car,” I directed him to drive his car into a shed. There, I directed him up a ramp. Machines attached a platform to his car’s underside. It took maybe five seconds. The platform featured engines, weapons, and wings. The kid was agog at the transformation. He drove it out of the shed as others arrived.
I announced, “An attack is coming. They think they’re coming to destroy us, but I’m going to change all your cars into aircraft, and you’re going to meet and stop them.” I then went into an explanation, flying was just like driving. Within minutes, several cars were done and the drivers were learning to control their cars in the air.
End dream
Wednesday’s Theme Music
The Neurons asked, “What day is this?” I replied, “You guys are supposed to be telling me these things.”
We decided it was Wednesday and then checked a wall calendar and the computer’s time and date. Yep, Wednesday, September 28th, 2022. If you close your eyes and listen, you can hear Christmas marketing in America coming. The computer tells me it’s “Grilled Cheese Sandwich Day”. I answered, “What?” I’m working on the day of the week and you’re telling me about some specious holiday? Is a “Grilled Cheese Sandwich Day” really necessary? It’s not like they’re donuts.
A sad sunrise of whitewashed gray clouds took place at 7:13 AM. I guess the time of sunrise each day and then look it up. Six out of ten times finds me with the right answer. I’m much better at guessing the temperature. It’s 46 F now. A heavy rain crashed down on us yesterday morning. Wouldn’t be startled to see another one today. Yesterday’s rain was fun because it poured in front but was relatively dry in the back, with just a little splashover. How about a high of 60 F today? Sounds about right. Feels about right. I either need to go back to Oregon or buy some warmer clothes. It’ll be in the mid-seventies back in Oregon. I looked it up.
Sunset? Yes, at 7:08 PM.
As I assumed morning duties for Mom, bringing pills, making breakfast and coffee, cleaning, etc, I was thinking along the cracks of, “Here I go again.” Somehow, The Neurons slipped in “Would?” by Alice In Chains from 1992 into the morning mental music stream. Why “Would?”? I wrote that just for that double question mark. Don’t have an answer. Guess it’s those lines, “Into the flood again, same old trip it was back then.” Maybe.
Mom is doing okay. Made her stay in bed yesterday. Ordered the same for this morning. I’ll let her come down for lunch. Let me tell you, having her obey isn’t as easy as it’s written, but she’s in good spirits and accepted my directive. No visits from nurse, PT or OT today, a good thing, as people drain her. Except me, she says.
Alright, coffee has arrived. Rather, it’s finished brewing and is teasing, “Heeerrre’s coffee!” Okay, I’ll be right over, I answer. Stay positive and test negative. Stay dry, safe. I know it’s bad in Cuba today, Puerto Rico is still recovering, and Alaska, and the thinking is that Florida might not have a good day. Do the best you can to help yourself and others.
Here’s the music. Cheers
Tuesday’s Wandering Thought
He’d often reminded himself not to trust his memory. He had too much confidence in it, and it frequently let him down. As other family members express frustration and disappointment with the others, telling their side of the story, he’s often reminded of how fallible memory can be. Their versions often don’t align at all.
Tuesday’s Theme Music
Inspiring sunshine scored the morning clouds, lighting the valley and the house’s eastern face. I put my face to it and breathed in cold, fresh air, admiring birds, squirrels, and chip monks as they took up business.
This was 7:30 AM, just after Tuesday’s sunrise at 7:12 on this 27th of September, 2022, in the Common Era. Umbrellas are called for this day as clouds have taken over and rain scents pepper the air. 55 F now, they tell us not to expect anything over 60 today. Yet I’m in shorts. Wear jeans, back to shorts today. Not like they’re glued or stapled to me. I can always swap my shorts for pants before sunset at 7:09 PM, if needed.
Mom had a rough morning. So did her partner, and my sisters, and me. That’s how it rolls. Diarrhea caused as a side effect of her antibiotics debilitated her. That all happened before 6 AM. She was to see her cardiologist but he went out sick. They still wanted Mom to come in and see the cardiologist’s nurse, but she convinced them that she was too weak, and the appointment was cancelled. They’ll reschedule after the cardiologist returns. A health care nurse is coming by at 2 to check on her, per a schedule set up yesterday.
My younger sisters vent a lot to me. This has impacted them, along with their children. All regularly visit Mom as they live in the area. I act psychologist to them, listening without giving advice. Seems to help.
Their thoughts about change and mortality prompted The Neurons to pull up a favorite song of mine. “Breathe (In the Air)” by Pink Floyd was part of the monumental album, “The Dark Side of the Moon”, released in 1972. I saw the group perform the album in concert. It felt like a transcendental experience. I’ve since seen them in concert several more times. I originally had the album on 8 track, then got it on cassette tape, vinyl, and finally, a digitally remastered CD. Yes, I like the album.
As the song says,
h/t to genuis.com
So life seems to be for so many, dig a hole, and then dig another, metaphors for work, work, work, work, work.
Hope you enjoy it. Stay positive, test negative, take care of yourselves and others. I’ve had coffee, thanks. I am ready for lunch and will have leftover chicken tortellini soup which my sister made and brought over yesterday. There’s plenty, if you care to have some.
Cheers
The Mom Dream
First, I was with other men. I was younger than now but can’t say what my age was. We’d been inside doing some unspecified activity. Finishing, we headed to elevators and exits. I was with one guy. White and young, I estimate him at six foot five and two hundred fifty muscular pounds. His hair was short, brown salted with gray.
We spoke briefly about the thing we just finished, alluding to its recurring nature. I said, “You know, we meet all the time to do this. We should get together outside and do something.”
He replied, “I’d like that.”
Now I’m at my place. Some rednecks are trying to rob me. I’ve become aware of this. They’re armed. We’re outside. I’ve hidden weapons outside. I drift around under their eye until I’m by a hidden pistol. Grabbing it, I start firing. It’s a plastic pellet gun and sprays yellow balls all over the place. They pull up similar weapons and fire back. We run around like that.
Others arrive. I realize that with the others there, the rednecks aren’t going to do anything. I’m not sure how many rednecks are present. At least two, including one with a thick and glossy black beard who seems to be their leader. Other people mill and chat, wine and champagne glasses in their hands. A redneck or two constantly follows me about, keeping me under watch, but I slowly grasp that they’re not going to rob me. Still, they make me uncomfortable and I want to leave.
I go into the house. A few people are in there but I notice that no rednecks are present. Going to a window, I climb out and run down the street.
I pass through a large activity room. People are sitting at tables. I think at first that they’re playing bingo, but they’re not. I hear Mom’s voice on speaker. Mom is on stage, moderating something. She’s in her mid-forties, about forty years younger than now. I’m surprised that Mom is moderating this. I listen to her asking and answering questions. Sometimes she laughs, but she always has a smile, red lips around white teeth.
Going on, I reach a crowded bus complex and join the queue to get on a bus. It’s a bottleneck. People are trying to go several different directions. Noticing this, I step back and let people go by since my line isn’t moving. Others see what I did and do the same. The bottleneck is cleared up, freeing me to enter the bus. It’s a huge one, like something companies use for tours or cross-country travel.
The bus starts up and begins moving. We’re driving down a steep hill. I’m in the back of the bus and Mom is driving the bus! I think, Mom is amazing, when did she learn to drive a bus? Someone back by me calls her name and then asked, “Did you ever figure out the GPS problem?”
Mom, laughing and steering, braking the bus at the hill’s bottom to turn, replies, “Yes. There’s a funy story there. Let me tell you.”
Just as Mom always used to do, except she never drove a bus. This is where the dream stopped.
Monday’s Wandering Thought
His mother was doing great with her walker. That was good. The motorcycle noises she made — pretending that she was shifting, tires squealing, engine revving — were a little unnerving. But if it helped, he accepted it.
It just seemed a little strange. Then again, that was Mom.
Telafloof
Telafloof (floofinition) – 1. Coping mechanism used by humans that involves confiding secrets, worries, and anxieties to animals, especially pets.
In use: “Her recurring process involved telefloof with her cat and dog. Settling on the settee with her pets, both girls, the three would talk over the day as they shared snacks.”
2. Calling somewhere to communicate with an animal via electronic systems.
In use: “After returning to his hotel room, he used Zoom to telafloof with his dobie, Hank Aaron, to ensure his boy heard his voice and saw his face. They usually spent a few minutes barking at one another, which delighted both.”
3. A secret communications system used by animals to communicate.
In use: “Using the telafloof, Milo the dog called Felix the cat and pleaded with the feline to return home because their people were worried. Felix finally relented, coming back after being gone three days.”
Michael Seidel, writer 