Month: December 2022

Sunday’s Theme Music

Sunday slipped into space with the weariness of an old ship being brought into port the final time. Rain and cold air heralded his arrival. Lackluster sunrise contributed its presence at 7:29 AM, or as the house floofs term it, midday. They’ve been up a few hours, pranking one another, running around, and asking me to play with them. “In a little while,” I slur with sleep-induced laziness.

Welcome to December 11, 2022.

The floofs have eaten and are now asleep. It’s 2 degrees C out but don’t worry, it’ll spunk up to 44 F before the sun slinks away at 4:39 PM. It’ll get down to 34 F tonight and up to 46 tomorrow before dropping to 25 tomorrow night. We’re expecting snow showers sometime during this up and down cycle.

I have “She’s Not There” in my morning mental music stream. It’s the Santana version. Yeah, a repeat, delivered by Les Neurons after I answered a survey about my recent replacement part shopping experience. I detailed it more in the post, “Replacement Part”. Anyway, I commented to the company that they’re not there on the weekends. Les Neurons shuffled from ‘you’ to ‘she’ faster than a floof can eat a treat. The Zombies did a great job with the Argent written song in 1964. I know it well and admired it. But Les Neurons keep playing Carlos Santana’s guitar from his group’s cover of it in 1977. Who am I to argue with my neurons? Might as well argue with the floofs or muses. Those are all arguments I will lose, along with any engaged with my spouse.

Stay positive, test negative, and if you fail, try again, right? I need some coffee. Here’s Santana and the song. Have a better one. Cheers

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Replacement Parts

My microwave went out again in November. Replacement switches were needed for the less than four-year-old microwave. The GE Profile model only cost us a little over $200 back when we bought it. A replacement is affordable but I gnash my teeth over being part of a throwaway world. We could live without a microwave, but I am addicted to its convenience. Yes, shame on me.

The first microwave my wife and I bought in the last century served us well for several years. We gave it to my MIL after we moved because she didn’t have one, and it served her until her death, almost forty years later. To be fair, this GE Profile microwave is the first microwave which ever failed for me. Congratulations, GE! It is shiny, sleek, and pretty, though and matches the other appliances, which appeals to my wife.

Also, buying a replacement is only about half the price. There is then the disposal cost for the old unit, shipping, and the installation cost of the new appliance. I believe I can do an installation but I’m a rookie and would rather have it professionally done.

The parts were ordered in November and received yesterday. Twenty minutes after the parts were in my hands, the machine was up and running anew. There were issues. I ordered the replacement part from RepairClinic. They followed up with a survey request about my experience.

Here it is.

  1. In dealing with you, I found you’re not there on weekends and evenings, only Mon-Fri, with limited hours, a throwback in this 24-7 shopping and shipping world of bots and emails, and surprising for a company selling goods online. Sweetly quaint and old-fashioned.
  2. You sent me the wrong part initially, replacing the microwave door microswitch holder with a muffler. As soon as I picked up that box, I knew it wasn’t the delicate plastic piece which I expected. That first package weighed ten pounds. The switch is less than a quarter of a pound.
  3. I contacted you as soon as wrong part was received, but, alas, Saturday, so no response was received until Monday. Your apology was straightforward with appropriate regret and you immediately ordered the correct part. It was sent out the next day, Tuesday.
  4. The replacement part was received the following Sunday. It was not actually an OEM replacement part. The screw placement holes on the new part were rotated 90 degrees from where they’re required, so the part can be placed and works in that regard, but it can’t be secured with screws. It troubled me that the part was different in that manner. This isn’t my first online replacement part experience. I did due diligence and your site said, yep, this is the part for your machine. It’s not. I used it anyway because of my microwave addiction but I have begun searching for the right part. I suspect that I won’t find it.
  5. Finally, not your fault, but the parts always took three days longer to reach me than announced with your shipping and tracking email. It’s always an amusing aspect of the modern ordering and shipping experience to see the original expected delivery day followed by an update showing it’ll be delivered the next day, and then a second update with a third date. As I wrote, not your fault but it did color my shopping experience with you.

Other than the things noted above, it was a great shopping and shipping experience. Cheers

I’ve marked my calendar and will see how long it is until the next failure.

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Imfloofuity

Imfloofuity (floofinition) – An animal or animal behavior exempt or immune to blame or punishment.

In use: “Two cats and three dogs lived with Michelle and her family, and the pets knew the rules. Then a new rescue kitten arrived and was given imfloofuity, getting onto the tables and kitchen counters, knocking things off shelves, and attacking plants. The other animals asked one another why that floof was allowed to do these things, but then the sweet little floof walked up and gazed up at them with her big eyes, and the other animals immediately forgot why they were upset.”

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The Writing Moment

Waiting to fall asleep, he wrote throughout the night, scribbling in his mind, traversing back and forth over story lines. Now, daylight is here. Time to recall all that he mentally wrote and add it to the manuscript, carving and recurving the previous pieces to make this fit. Daylight has bleached out the night’s confidence that he knew what to do and how to do it.

Even the new book title that arrived as he fell asleep doesn’t seem as perfect as it did then.

But he begins working on it because that’s how it must be.

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A New Beginning Dream

Winds hissed and howled, moaned and whistled last night. Rain splattered against the night world. Our young cat, Papi, wanted out, back in quickly, back out – hey, let’s try the front – and back in, etc. The cat’s demand fractured my sleep. Some time was then spent on writing the end of the novel but sleep finally hit. With it came dreams.

My wife and I were younger looking but in our current life situation, otherwise known as retired people. We were at a new place. Many of the buildings were white and brand new. She and I walked about it like astonished tourists taking in world wonders. News came by spoons, this was a new city. Not huge but neither was it small, its focus was about solving world issues. The mix of ethnicities and sexes impressed me, convincing me that this was a united effort across many races and nations. Engineers, architects, artists, and military members were among the people we met and saw, along with farmers and ranchers, all identified to us by what we saw them doing or what was overheard mentioned. Then came congratulations to me because I was part of this, brought on to help organize it. Well, super, I was flattered as hell but doubtful that I belonged. Insistence that I did was pushed on me by multiple folks. Well, okay, I guess I belong.

Next, we were elsewhere, traveling before going to the new place. Part of that meant I was meeting with others. We met on a stage. They were going to exercise before the formal handoff meeting. Did we want to join?

I did, but my wife didn’t. She wandered off as our impromptu class stretched and warmed up, awaiting our instructor. My stretching astonished me. Balanced on one leg, I raised the other above my head with ease. Wow, was I impressed. I jumped up and down and found I needed to be careful or I would crack my skull on the ceiling. Somewhere within those actions, I decided to change and poof, was changed into form fitting light gray workout clothes with a white headband. The instructor arrived but too much time was passed. My wife arrived, informing me that we had to go on because we were meeting other people in another city.

Zip, we were in the new city at a semi-formal event. Senior military people were there in large numbers. The spouse and I experienced minor confusion about what was going on and why we were in attendance. Servers circulated with trays of drinks. We accepted wine and champagne. Sipping drinks, we milled, meeting others, getting introduced. One young colonel who was a bald black man mentioned the new city in conversation. I responded that we knew about it.

His eyes widened. “You know of it?” When I said yes, he questioned me in an easy manner, confirming that we spoke about the same place and that I really knew about it. I finished by telling him, “We’re going to live there. I’ve been asked to join the staff.”

A smile split his face. “Wow,” he said. “Congratulations.” He thrust his hand at me. I shook it, grinning. As I did, I looked left. A small white model of the new city was on display. My wife stood beside it. I thought, that’s pretty cool. That’s where we’re going, to a new city and a new beginning.

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Do your Saturday dance if you got one. Because, yes, it is Saturday.

It’s also December 10, 2022. If it’s your birthday or anniversary, happiest of them to you. Do your celebration dance. And if you’re having donuts or a special breakfast, do your celebration dance for that. I’m doing my celebration dance in honor of coffee. I got it, I’m drinking it, I’m dancing.

The windstorm ended shortly after dawn at 7:28 this morning. Rain stopped a little before, leaving large puddles across the back patio which greatly displeased Papi, the ginger floof prince. Clouds broke their clinch. Sunshine and blue sky are squinting out, asking, “Is it over?” Snow still dusts and crusts many ridges, tree lines, and peaks above our elevation. No snow down here toward the valley floor, though. We’re happy for the snow where it added to the pack or entertains others. Looking out, the windstorm didn’t take over any trees, fences, houses, roofs, etc. It was a lot of noise and a jolt of tension but it’s done. 37 F outside right now. 48 F is the anticipated high temperature. Sunset comes at 4:39 PM.

Without irony nor surprise, I can tell you that The Neurons picked up on the wind theme for the morning music. I heard them talking in my head, remembering wind songs. There is a chunk of them from the rock era. Some surprise was found when they pulled up Santana and “Song of the Wind”. Released on an album in 1972, I listened to the album pretty extensively. It has more of a jazz infusion that the harder rock or progressive rock that The Neurons usually cheer on, but back when I was sixteen and drawing and painting, I found this comfortable music as accompaniment. Later on, when I was living in the Philippines, I would listen to it and sip wine while I drew or read. So good memories come with this album. There is beautiful guitar work on it, of course, cuz it’s Carlos, but there are also impressive musicans who gravitated to him, and the interesting percussion work often featured in his songs.

Stay positive, test negative, and celebrate what you can. I’m celebrating more coffee. Here’s the song. Hope it helps move your day in the right ways. Cheers

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Floofytum

Floofytum (floofinition) – The innermost sanctuary in an animal’s resting or meeting space, open only to priests.

In use: “People have found that their pets like kennels as a floofytum as only other animals are small enough to enter and humans are forced to remain outside, giving the floofs privacy and security. Pets without kennels will make up their own floofytums in drawers, closets, baskets, or under

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A Winter Memory Prompted By Writing Prompt #210

The streetlights were on, unmoored, half-seen yellow orbs floating over either side of the street.

Snow smothered dusk’s dimming light. No one else was on the street. Dressed in blue jeans, a shirt, and tennis shoes – which had holes in the soles that he’d mended with pieces of cardboard – he ran, shivering and sniffling, up the street past the warm-looking suburban houses. Most seemed half-buried in snow. Windblown snow stuck to his clothing and hair and stressed his cheeks with icy daggers. Shoving his fingers deep into his tight jeans’ pockets, keeping at least those warm, he licked snot off his nose, lifted his shoulders, and ran, catching slides and racing on.

Exploding into home, he rushed to a heater duct and stood in front of it, dripping, drying, shivering, warming. enjoying the heat. Mom, orchestrating laundry not far away, turned and stared at him, her hands continuing their folding. “Where is your coat?” she asked. Then answered herself, “Don’t tell me you forgot it again.”

When he nodded, yes, her shoulders sagged and she snapped, “Oh my God.” A warm towel was pulled from the dryer, shook out, and handed to him. “Why in God’s name didn’t you go back for it?”

He shrugged. “I was hungry. I wanted to get home.”

She issued a familiar tongue click of disappointment. He felt too stupid to be her son.

He was probably right.

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