Monufloofal(floofinition)1. A huge, or ginormous (relative to its species) animal. Origins: late twentieth century Internet.
In Use: “Col Sanders (named for where he was found and rescued but often called Jumbo) was monufloofal, and when he slept with people, he seemed to double in size, rendering laps numb, and taking up all the space wherever he slumbered.”
2. A highly significant or important animal. Origins: early twenty-first century world wide web.
In Use: “Ol’ Jax was an undersized Jack Russell to most people, but Ol’ Jax was a monufloofal aspect of the homeless vet’s street existence.”
We’re expecting a summerish time today, Sunday, May 19 2024, in the Churchill Valley. 65 F now, they’re predicting high temperatures of 84 to 88 degrees F for us.
Quite believable with sunshine commanding a staunchly blue sky. No clouds are in sight.
My plans for today include a nephew’s birthday party. He’s turning over the leaf on number 16, dig? Happy to be here to partake of the grub and fun and fete his latest advance. Sweet and now a slightly quiet and withdrawn person, he’s endured some health issues that undercut the joy and happiness that he used to perpetually manifest. I hope he can regain some of that. He’s a good-looking, talented, and intelligent person with a wonderful smile.
That’ll be at the littlest sister’s house. “The Littlest Sister”: could that be a novel title? Maybe a dark humor murder mystery? Sounds possible. But it could also be a YA about kids with powers. Those seem popular now. Or the concept could be taken into the children’s realm and built around the littlest sister as an animal — perhaps a cat? Conversely, the littlest sister might be a time traveler, perhaps even an alien, escaping dire conditions on another world and looking for help on Earth.
Yeah, maybe not.
I feel a little better about Mom’s situation today. I think I’ve set her up for someone to come in once a week to clean. Mom has known that person over twenty years, it’s a neighbor, and Mom had suggested her. So that all sounds perfect, right? Yes, except this is Mom. Changing her mind about matters — especially matters in the health and home realms — are a solid part of her history. She’s protective of her routines, privacy, and territory.
Les Neurons posted “Long Road to Ruin” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark flopping). The ’07 Foo Fighters song is about dissatisfaction with the status quo IMO, and an eagerness to change it or leave it. The point behind it is do something. That’s what I’m always urging myself: do something.
Coffee has been introduced to my corporeal being and I feel my energy rising. Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Hope your weather suits you as much as I’m facing today.
Saturday, May 18th, 2024, came upon us in the Churchill Valley with a load of leaky clouds. Rain was doing a heavy metal drum solo against the house. Dressing for it, I thought, maybe it won’t be as bad outside our slice of Penn Hills. Turns out our situation was better than others. Rain just increased with no evidence of mercy coming.
It’s part of a trend. Yesterday’s day of intermittent rain ended with tornado warnings and alerts, and a long downpour. Then there were tornado sightings and videos on the news and social media, and flash flood warnings. Potholes became lakes. I appreciated all the drivers’ calm and patience. Only one driver was witnessing doing something stupid. (Cue Frank and Nancy Sinatra singing “Something Stupid”.)
As for temperatures, it’s 66 F now and supposedly climbing to 77 F today. So, it’s not an overly cold rain.
Mom continues to seem to do well. Except for back pain from stenosis, and this weird cough. The cough could be associated with GIRT. She’s just hanging in there. While she often expresses disbelief in others, she has a powerful belief in herself. So, she tends to endure until she’s forced to ask others for help. I recognize it because I’m her son, and I’m the same as her in this regard. Decently intelligent, she (we) wear obstinance like it’s armor.
I am beginning to plan my return to home and my wife and floofs. One segment of last night’s dreams had me petting Tucker, my toothless black and white floof. When I walked away, he clamped onto my hand with his mouth and drew me back. That scene happened three times.
Being here, staying with Mom, watching over her and trying to help, has The Neurons playing “Victim of Love” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark flooded). The 1976 Eagles song is apt, in my cogitating. See, I wish to be back home, pursuing life, but here I am, across the country. It’s love, but also an aggravated sense of loyalty and duty. I really appreciate my wife’s support in this.
Hot, black coffee is blessing the system. Stay positive, lean forward, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Here’s the music. Cheers
Revision work on the novel in progress, Memories of Why, continues. I work on it everyday. 40% completed, I’m being a tortoise in this endeavor, slow and steady. Not infrequently, I read and revise a chapter three or four times. I mostly did this because it was overwritten to hell and needs to have overbearing words cut away.
But it’s satisfying and entertaining, and keeps me out of trouble, so I’ll keep on keeping on.
May continues is march. Today is the month’s 17th day.
It’s Friday. Clouds have won the morning, but they’re a modest whipped cream overlay. 63 F out there, 70 F is today’s top. 70 F isn’t bad for me, although it always comes to me as ‘not quite hot, and not quite cold’. I feel like Goldilocks writing that.
I miss my cats, Tucker and Papi. Note: I also miss my wife but I get to chat on the phone with her every day. She presents updates: “It’s nice outside, so they’re out there sleeping somewhere.” Not much color there, but then, but they’re low-key floofies. My wife does tell me that Tucker sleeps with her every night. Papi, of course, wants out. I’ll be happy to be back with them.
The Neurons have plugged a Sly Fox song into the morning mental music stream (Trademark reflected). The group came out with “Let’s Go All the Way” in 1985. As an 1980s product, it offers an eclectic and intriguing mix of techno sounds with mellow, laid-back vocals.
What’s interesting about this song is that many perceived it as a tune about sex. The truth is, it’s about politics. Here’s the initial verse:
Sitting with the thinker Trying to work it out It’s a traffic jam of the brain Makes you wanna scream and shout Presidential party No one wants to dance Looking for a new star To put you in a trance
And the chorus is about a better way:
Let’s go all the way We need heaven on Earth today Aah-aah-aah We can make a better way Let’s go all the way Go all the way Let’s go all the way Yeah
I think The Neurons’ choice is pitch-perfect. We have that guy, Trump, a Bible Belt darling with some. He practices as they preach: hate and name-calling is his daily delivery, for, as the Bible orders, “Hate thy political opponent with all the anger on Earth.” Their Bible seems to also state, “Treat women like they have no rights. Grab by the pussy and move like a bitch. Cheat on thy wives and lust after thy daughter.”
Also in their Bible is the guidance about morals and ethics: “Lie and cheat to get ahead, for more money is key to your place in Heaven.”
So, my fellow Democrats, let’s go all the way. Vote out those MAGA Republicans and make it a better day.
Coffee has made its way to me. Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Then let’s work on restoring voting rights and women’s rights, and rights for everyone everywhere, and act like a compassionate nation that immigrants helped build, instead of treating them like garbage, as the MAGA Bible apparently directs.
Sitting in the coffee shop, I sometimes take a break to pay attention to the people waiting for their coffee. Some are jittery, constant movement. Like they’ve already ingested a significant amount of caffeine, buzzy as little kids on a sugar high.
Then we have the impatient customer. Frequently tapping a foot, normally with hands in pockets or arms crossed, they look like they’re sighing over the unfairness of having to wait so darn long for their drink. Many of these will turn to their cell for comfort, chatting, texting, reading stuff, watching videos.
Others waiting for coffee assume a cool Steve McQueen demeanor, leaning back with mild indifference. The coffee will come and nothing they do will hurry it, so why bother? It’s not surprising to see some of them casually check cell phones, oozing as they do.
Fourth are those with the coffee stare. Stiff as a bronze statue, usually with their arms crossed, they posture right up against the counter’s edge, eyes opened wide, unblinking, waiting for their order. As drinks are made, you can almost hear their neurons shouting, “Is that mine? Is that mine?”
Finally, we have the laissez coffee set. Ordering, they find a table or sit until their order is called out.
People going into hospice care seems to be increasing in numbers. Not a great surprise as the population ages and end-of-life planning becomes more widespread.
I do think we might consider verbalizing ‘hospice’, though. Instead of stating that someone is entering hospice care, why not say they’re being hospicized?
Michael Seidel, writer 