Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Ecfloofsiastical (floofinition) – Of or relating to animals.
In use: “Although laws protecting animals have been established for several decades, the net has been a catalyst for more ecfloofsiastical laws, with growing insistence that these laws also be staunchly enforced.”
We come to the matter of shaving. I’ve been doing it since I was fifteen years old. Being in the military for twenty years meant that I shaved my face every duty day and never went more than one day without shaving.
I used to try new ideas whenever they came on the scene, trying to achieve that closer, smoother, more comfortable shave they were forever promising. Little helped. I started with throwaway razors. Then there were double blades. Triple blades. A little lubricating strip. Swivel head. All okay but nothing that made headlines.
Meanwhile, prices, lordy how the prices went up. Used to buy a five pack for about three dollars. Now I was buying thirteen razors — Gillette somethings with three or four blades — for almost thirty dollars. At Costco, where low prices rule.
Walking into Costco last week, I saw a display for Harry’s razors. I’d seen them advertised at different places on the net and TV. And yeah, they interested me. These were on sale, thirteen blades for thirteen dollars. Since I was running low on razors, I decided to give them a shot but I wasn’t expecting anything shave-changing.
Well, first, they were a little weirdly shaped, enough of a difference to make me wonder about how they were going to go over my face. Had five blades, but yawn, who doesn’t? Ditto, lubricating strip. Well, I used it and holy cow, it was so much more comfortable. And yeah, it did give me a closer shave.
I stared at it in my hand. What witchcraft was this?
Whatever it was, I recommend trying them. They impressed a jaded old grizzly like me. Might impress you, too.
After leaving the garage, he looked down the street. There, in the middle, was a doe with her twin fawns. Appearing almost brand new, they were adorable. He called his wife out so she could see. Watching together as the doe and her fawns came up the street — mama walking slow, the fawns galloping in spurts — they wondered if she was the same doe who’d been hanging around their yard.
After the family disappeared behind the neighbor’s house across the street, he left in his car. Arriving at a stop light, he saw a mother with her twins on a bicycle. Wearing helmets, blond curls sticking out, the twins looked like they were about two years old, tiny perfect human replicas.
It was a good day for twins. It felt like the world was making a statement. As often with the world’s statements, he just wasn’t certain what the statement was.
After taking some meds, he learned again that if some is good, more isn’t always better. The rule of moderation was proven again. The question for everyone, with everything, was always, what constitutes moderation? Difficulty comes because it changes with age, health, and circumstances. Re-consideration and adjustments are often required.
Summer’s prelude to summer in Ashlandia has settled into a new weather routine. Blue sky. Plentiful sunshine. Cool, 50s to 60s F, in the morning. Rising to high 70s, low 80s by mid-afternoon. Roll in some clouds. Cue the thunder. Spark some lightning. Now, turn on the rain. Repeat for a few hours.
This is Thursday, June 8, 2023. Yesterday afternoon and evening on the storms squatting on Ashlandia. The climax was a twenty minute deluge of big drops, dense, falling fast and hard. What’s striking about all this lightning (couldn’t resist), thunder, and rain is that it’s so rare for Ashlandia, especially of this intensity, duration, and repetition. But it’s been a growing trend in the last several years. It could be part of a larger cycle and we all just don’t live long enough to experience it, so it strikes us as odd. But it’s also a continuation of an odd weather year.
The cats aren’t pleased. The weather even brought Tucker in, who is usually indifferent to these things. Papi, though, decided the best place to be was with us in a lit room, awakening, waiting, ready to run, and willing to be comforted. Tucker decided that he’d be wherever Papi was.
We’re seeing a lot of deer on our street this week. Two bucks strolling up the street the other evening. Three or four deer — or maybe the same few again and again — wandering around our house and across the street at the neighbors. Well, no recent cougar sightings in our vicinity, so maybe that has something to do with it.
I stood in the front doorway last night, protected by the porch, to watch the rain. Not just watch, but breathe in the fresh petrichor, and enjoy the sounds. Lightning frequently flashed to enliven the experience. As I stood there, The Neurons fired up a 1981 song by The Rolling Stones, “Waiting On A Friend”. Song is still in the morning mental music stream. The Neurons made a good choice. The storm broke me out of my normal routines. The smells and sounds also made me nostalgic for similar times experienced around the world from different phases of life where I was waiting for a friend to arrive as part of our plans to go off somewhere.
Stay positive, and enjoy Thursday as only you can. I have coffee, so I’m pleased for the moment, sipping hot brew, windows breathing in cool air on my back, sunshine slinking around the house, cats wandering in and out to give news updates. Here’s the tune. Love the video’s end, when the band gets up to play in that tiny, tiny space. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 