Floof Chef (floofinition) 1. Individual responsible for preparing animal’s meals.
In use: The house floofs knew that he was the floof chef, so they never bothered his wife or anyone else, but as soon as he arrived him, the floofs gathered and pressed him into duty.”
2. Animal who supervises or monitors all food preparation activities.
In use: “As soon as they went in to begin making dinner — a time which was hardwired into the floof’s psyche — the floof joined them to complete his duty as a floof chef.”
Getting Wordle in two moves engenders a sensational feeling of luck and success. Two days in a row pump you up. But three? Man, capture that feeling and sell it in bottles. WordleBot was generous — 99 for skill, 99 for luck.
Deceptive-son is here. Ashlandia’s valley is deep with muted sunshine. But on my step out to test it all, winter still holds the ruler’s scepter as cold air keeps temperatures in the low thirties. Birds were plentiful and noisy, urging something that we non-birds didn’t understand. The floofs embraced sunlit spaces and conducted their post-breakfast washup. As J. Denver sang, “Sunshine on my kitties makes me happy.”
It’s Wednesday, April 5, 2023. Beer with friends is in the schedule for this afternoon. Weather spies passed a note that rain is on the way and the high will be 55 F. That’s a twenty-degree step up from now.
Democracy was vigorous in New York yesterday as former POTUS Trump showed up to be arrested. People turned up to protest him and support him, and to challenge ideas and positions. You can say it was an embarrassment for the country or a celebration of the nation’s first amendment.
A series about fast cars ruled the dream sequence. I drove red, silver, and blue cars, Ferraris, Porsches, Mercedes, among others, traveling to different places. Arriving at one place, I’d admired the view and then resume my travels. Sometimes I’d see a different car and know it as mine. Other times, I’d be told it’s mine and given keys. My wife was generally with me. Nothing eventful or untoward happened. I was just driving and enjoying myself.
With cars still revving in my head when I awoke, The Neurons were busy pulling out songs about cars. The one which ended up ruling the morning mental music stream is a ballad, “Drive”, by The Cars, 1984. If you know the song, it’s not about a car, but abut driving. The song embraces rhetorical questions, beginning, “Who’s gonna tell you when it’s too late? Who’s gonna tell you things aren’t so great?”
Enough of this typing. The day awaits. Stay pos and be strong. Here’s The Cars. And, look, coffee, and a slice of iced lemon cake. Ah, good morning.
Michael Seidel, writer 