Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Mood: Sunsy
Another spring day of entangled weather. Descending clouds obscure the western ridges’ face with rain threats. Sunlight powers through in the east and attempts to buck the temperatures up. Wind sometimes gambols like a newborn foal.
Temperatures rose to 50 F from 38 F but have now slipped back to 48 F. 55 F is as how as we expect thermometers to climb around most of Ashlandia.
Today is April 7, 2024.
Papi, my lean, lanky ginger floof, played nine solid innings of Let me in/let me out. Do you know this game? This is when a house floof makes noises to rouse their servants to let them in and out of the house. It’s scored by how many times they can make it happen and how fast it happens.
I think Papi scored a perfect score. There was some swearing involved, as he didn’t even take a seventh inning stretch. Bored, hungry, restless, frustrated, lonely, disappointed in the weather…I think it was all of these things. Started at 5:30 AM and went on past 9:30.
Mom continues recovering from her appendicitis. Late update was that the appendix had ruptured ‘some time ago’. Gangrene had set in. She was lucky, the medical folks declared.
I was surprised. Several years ago, they mentioned she’d perforated her appendix and had gangrene but then backed off and claimed something else. I was always dubious of that shift. As for surviving, ‘survivor’ is one of many words I’d immediately apply to her. ‘Tough’ is another.
Staying with family medical situations, my aunt just had her colon removed. Well, all but an inch, is the claim passed to me. My father’s sister, she and Mom are the same age and have been friends since they were nineteen. They’ve been through a lot together and remain friends even through Mom and Dad divorced back in the early 1960s.
My aunt has been intermittently battling colon cancer for a while. She was declared clean on a January follow-up. But she went back in March because “something didn’t feel right”. At that visit, they declared she had a mass as large as a cat. That description had me visualizing a cat curled up, sleeping in her colon. Like Mom, my aunt is tough, survived the surgery despite a bad heart, and will be discharged, wearing a bag, in a few days.
Texting with sisters, thinking about Mom and my aunt, I wasn’t overly surprised when The Neurons introduced “Those Were the Days” into the morning mental music stream (Trademark setting). I’m remembering the Mary Hopkins version from 1968. I seemed to have heard it a great deal in my youth but I don’t think I’ve heard it in years. It’s amusing that The Neurons pulled it up out of memory.
Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue. I’m on my second cup of coffee, and the day is moving on, with or without my involvement.
Here’s the music. Cheers
I’ve been living with cats all of my life. It may be affecting me. When I see something on our house’s hardwood floors, I tap it to see what it does, as I’ve witnessed my cats do.
I don’t sniff it, though, as they do. Or eat it. I’m not at that stage of my metafloofaphosis.
Yet.
Metafloofphosis (floofinition) 1. A person who imitates animal behavior and sounds so often that they give the impression that they’re becoming an animal themselves. Origins: 15th century Fleek.
In Use: “Julie’s habits of barking to her dog in conversation and getting down on her hands and knees to play with him worried her husband, who often began telling others, ‘I think she’s going through a metafloofphosis and wouldn’t be surprised if she woke up as a dog one day.”
2. An animal’s change of attitude, behavior, or looks. Origins: 19th century American Floofish.
In Use: “Mahommes arrived as a young feral cat whose furious strikes and angry expression shouted, ‘Mess with me and I WILL DESTROY YOU.’ But with patience, food, treats, soft words, and time, he went into a metafloofphosis and emerged as a sweet, loving boy who enjoy laps and playing.”
My dreams of late have been numerous but mostly adventure stories which don’t seem to include me, with a few exceptions. Last night’s dreams were all about me. Two struck me as more interesting than the rest.
This one really intrigued me. A younger version of me was strolling through a hall. Passing brick walls, I could have been in a school, college, university, or museum. I was alone, though.
Mounted on the walls were hundreds of boxes. All were the same size, about eight by ten inches, two inches tall, with printing and a scene on the front. Wondering what they were, I slowed to examine them.
“Oh,” I said, speaking aloud as realizations came. “I see. Those are dreams I can chose. Very cool.”
Smiling, putting my hands in my pockets, I resumed strolling, looking at the boxes as I went by.
While the first dream featured only me, the second was busy with people. Most were strangers, even though several were purported to be co-workers.
Background: A former boss, Walter, was featured in the dream. I’d worked for him at my first startup after retiring. Walter was a nurse who’d become involved in starting medical device companies. He’d made a fortune with a device called the Rotablator last century. The startup where I worked for him in the 1990s was a medical device company manufacturing stents mounted on balloons for use in coronary angioplasty. We made our own balloons and stents and were searching for ways to used stents and/or balloons for treating some stenting side-effects with radiation. Fun time.
In last night’s dream, I again worked for Walter. He was trying to start another new business. The last one hadn’t worked. I went to him and asked, “Walter, what are we going to do?”
He replied, “Don’t worry, I have some things coming up.” (Typical Walter).
My desk was located outside, as was everyone else’s desk. We sat on black mental folding chairs. As I had no work, I just goofed around, playing little games.
Other people came to see me, along with a middle-aged woman with a sunny smile and a blonde beehive hair style. She told me she was either a regulator or inspector and was just coming to check on me to see if I was okay.
Walter then came around and told me to be on the watch for Jason. Jason was supposed to be arriving. I responding, “Who’s Jason? What’s he look like?”
“Jason is a friend,” Walter called back over a shoulder, going away again.
Looking for Jason, I went around the corner of a large cinder block and metal building. About a dozen people were there, milling about, busy with different activities and conversations. One came around the corner on the building’s other end.
Making my way to him, I introduced myself, and added, “You’re Jason, aren’t you?” As he replied yes, I finished, “Walter is waiting for you. Follow me.”
Dream end.
Michael Seidel, writer 