Circumfloofar(floofinition) – Found or discovered in the vicinity of a floof. First known use in 1686.
In use: “Judging from the circumfloofar collection of torn toilet paper rolls by the puppy and kitten — not even pointing out the pieces stuck to the floofs — they were guilty of a first rate case of floofhem, but both little beasts acted wholly innocent, as though the surrounding mess had nothing to do with them.”
I begin, it’s Satur — no, wait, it’s Su — oh, damn, we know this is Monday.
It’s Monday, Septembe 25, 2023. As always, I’m surprised that another month is almost ending. Another is close to beginning. We ride the day merry-go-round.
For weather, light gray clouds frost our sky. The sun sometimes escape the cloud cover to present us with a bright glow for a few minutes. Soft rain drifts through Ashlandia.
Smoke has left our area. My sinuses and eyes feel so much better for that. Gone is in the burning and itching, and the congestion and sneezing. Thank you, fates.
We’ve been receiving light rain off and on. Sometimes, it comes so quick, and leaves so fast, hurrying by on cat’s paws, that we have little knowledge it’s been there. We see the drying street and the damp sidewalk. Hindsight can be helpful.
It’s 65 F now, so it’s warmed up but we’ll only kiss 70 F today. That’s good enough for a windy fall day. By the way, I was negligent in not welcoming south of the equator folks to spring. Hope you have one friend of floods, fires, and other disasters.
I’ve always hunted balance, I reckon, balance in work/life, living and loving, doing and dreaming. Oh, yes, and I’ve sought balance between moods, between the dark sides and the sunny, less threatening times. I’m more familiar with my cycles as I’ve gotten older; I know when they arrive. When the darkness comes, I’m ready to curse and give up, walk away from things. I want freedom then, and I feel weary. But I know how to press myself and shut it down and not do anything stupidly impulsive.
Dark days come over me less frequently in my senior years. I’m 67.25 years old, you know. I suspect some of the evening can be attributed to less worry, but also fewer hormones. I’ve also managed to cultivate that calmness that, hey, things aren’t so bad for me. That many things which worry and trouble me are temporary, and that I give these matters a surfeit of attention. Beyond those basics, I find great solace in my writing processes.
Like many Americans, I’m following long stories about Trump’s trials, the potential US government shutdown, various disasters around the world, and Sen. Bob Menendez and the charges against him. Rep. Jeffries had a terrific response to the GOP threats to shut down the goverment. He cited all the times the GOP has done this, referencing their flaccid reasoning for their demands, and pointing out the damage to people and the economy incurred each time. His theme, though: we will not pay the ransom. I embrace his reaction completely.
Meanwhile, on the Menendez front, the evidence is heavy — especially the gold. Hah! But he is innocent until proven guilty. Let justice plow the field and see the results, just as we’re doing with Trump. But if either is guilty, I expect heavy punishments for the crimes against we, the people, that they did while being paid as servants of our nation.
On to music. The morning mental music stream (Trademark insane) is filled with Lucy Spraggan and “Balance”. Surprised?
Not me. The Neurons and I are in tune today. I’m not overly familiar with Lucy Spraggan’s work. I first heard “Balance” online last year. The first several times I listened to it, I was striving to understand the words and message. Eventually, I found enjoyment in the song’s cadence.
Stay pos, if you will, if you can, find your balance and be strong. Here’s the music. Coffee is at hand. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 