Flooftibulate (floofinition) – 1. A hidey hole or location, such a corner, where animals like to hide or sleep. In use: “Tucker’s favorite flooftibulate is outside, behind a pillar and under a bush where he can’t be found without hard searching, yet the sun manages to steal in and warm him.” 2. A floof behavior of finding a place to hide. In use: “Though he was a large dog, when guns were fired, a car backfired, or fireworks went off, Conor would flooftibulate, not moving until the noise was done, and he was found and reassured that the world wasn’t ending.” PUBLISHING NOTE. Sorry about the format. Not WYSIWYG, because that’s not how it looked when I was creating it. Had to stop and copy everything into Word and then start over and paste back in because WP once again when into its Autosave freeze.

Thursday’s Theme Music

Well, the sky is blue and ripe with sunshine. It’s fine weather, even though Uncle Bill passed away at midnight last night. Heart failure. He was a good person and being related to him is an honor. Not much else I can but celebrate his life and go on.

It’s 62 F right now. 75 F is expected later today, 80 Friday, 90 — some say 97 — an Saturday, kicking off a week of temperatures dancing between highs in the upper 80s to mid 90s. Appears summer is crowding into May. This is May 11, 2023.

It’s also my older sister’s birthday. Happy b’day, sister! She’s two years older than me and about eight inches shorter, and I’m only 5’8″. She’s a grandma several times over and living the life in a suburb outside of Atlanta, Georgia.

Learning of Uncle Bill’s end of life encouraged The Neurons with a 1986 Phil Collins song, “Take Me Home”. I may not be alone in this, but I’d loved to be back in that time when I regularly saw Uncle Bill, and he was young, and I was younger, and both of had forever ahead of us. Death is natural and regular, but always stirs memories up from the well’s bottom and yearning for the times and places I most enjoyed.

On a lighter note, got my new military ID today. Yes, I’m retired, but the card ‘expired’ when I turned 65, something put in place to force retirees to sign up for Medicare, which becomes the primary healthcare for vets of a certain era. Getting the card is hard. Limited places to get it in Oregon. Local Medford guard unit provides walk-in service. Well, that’s easy, isn’t it? No. The onerous system complicates matters. People line up, waiting to get in, as he goes through the process of connecting, entering data, verifying info, registering fingerprints, taking the photo, and then finally printing out the new card and verifying that its chip works. Today was my ninth visit to get ‘er done. Tried too, when I was in PA last year, where they are by appointment only. No appointments were available at any of the three nearby sites. Morgan, the infantry man who mans the office, shared several horror stories about people’s efforts to get a new card. Congratulations to him, too, who is retiring after twenty, but staying on to do the same job as a civilian. He seems pretty pleased.

Have some coffee and stay pos. Enjoy your life and forge ahead as you can. Here’s the music. Cheers

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