I’ve read others’ comments about comments getting rejected by WordPress. Last week, it struck me. I’d type up a comment, click comment, and WP replied, “This comment couldn’t be posted” or words to that effect.
It doesn’t happen with everyone’s blogs. It’s irritatingly random. First time, the poster had written about bowel movements and their poo. I commented and added a facet about menstrual cycles. When my comments were rejected, I wondered if it was about the subject or my word choices. But since then, I’ve had comments rejected about car repairs, animals, food, news, and politics.
Just one of those mysterious afflictions which sometimes strike modern technology, I suppose.
Good mornin’! It’s Sunda, February 9, 2025. Sunshine is crowding the window, pressing its rays up against the glass. We started the AM at 25 F in my locale but the sun soon had us soaring past 33 F. ‘They’ tell us 43 is possible. Don’t know if their fingers were crossed behind their backs.
The sun has been working its magic. Trees and bushes are pushing their heavy lids of snow back and stretching and flexing into their normal postures. Seeing sunshine, both floofs clamored to escape the house. Checking on them later, the two sat, eyes closed, soaking up rays on the patio’s sun-warmed cement. After being sun-doused, they returned to the house. One is now napping on a bed while the other is in a chair in sunshine snoozing.
What a night of dreams. Another military dream was among them. Classic of these dreams, I’m in the military again, and again coping with a uniform malfunction. In other words, I was out of compliance and trying to solve that. It’s my version of being pantless in school. But a twist arrived when an officer accosted me and asked, “What are you doing?” I figured he was going to ladle grief on me for my uniform. I whipped out an explanation and told him I was trying to rectify it. “Why?” he responded, surprising me. Then he added, “You retired.”
Oh, yeah.
That sunshine had me thinking, I hunger for a bouncy, energetic song. Something as an antitdote to PINO Trusk’s destruction. Drifting back into time, The Neurons surfaced with a Who offering from 1972. Although the video is silly with them miming playing their instruments and singing, the infectious blending of instruments stirred the kind of hope I felt when I was sixteen. That — and coffee — is just what my spirit ordered.
Coffee saved me again. Brekkie is done, cats are fed. Time to gen up other activities. Hope your day serves you well. Cheers
Floofstone(floofinition)1. A significant point in a relationship with an animal, especially a pet. Origins: 2002, United States, Internet.
In Use: “Many people who help young kittens and cats face a fierce, growling, spitting adversary, and obtaining the animal’s trust is frequently a major floofstone.”
In Use: “A woman spent six months gaining barn cats’ trust, and when they finally came into her house, it was a major floofstone.”
2. Floofstones – an animated carton about a group of prehistoric domestic animals.
In Use: “Many people came to enjoy and even love The Floofstones, thanks greatly to the writers’ deft skills lampooning modern culture in the U.S.”
I made it to my first lymphedema massage therapy session yesterday. I began experiencing edema in about 2020, around 63 years old. I walked about eleven miles a day back then. Went all over town carried by my feet and legs. As various injuries slowed my exercise routines, bilateral edema developed in my legs. This became a real nuisance when I had ankle surgery to address a ruptured tendone. Swelling caused by edema kept me from healing correctly. Yeah, that sucked. My orthorpedic surgeon recommend that I pursue lymphedema massage therapy. When I expressed interest, he set it up.
My first appointment was supposed to be Munda. I cancelled because of snow, and the therapist cancelled Wednesday due to snow. A young woman named Anastasia is my therapist. When I made it in yesterday, we laughed over the week’s crazy snow weather and agreed, Ashlandia was hit much harder than her town, Medford. Makes sense, as Ashland is at a higher elevation.
Not my foot.
Ana wrapped my legs as part of the process called lymphedema compression bandages. Used to help manage lymphedema by a sequence of pressure from high to low to help the lymph vessels move their fluid, the bandages end up being very thick. My toes were individually wrapped, then foot, ankle, calf, up to my knee on both sides. Sort of looks like a mummy. After that, dark blue open-toed sandals with velcro straps were provided. They were needed because my wrapped feet were too large for my shoes.
When my wife saw me in my new gear, she doubled over in laughter.
She laughed again today when she saw me. She couldn’t believe that after my appointment yesterday, I went grocery shopping. Her exact exclamation was, “I can’t believe you went into a store looking like that. You’re braver than me.”
I replied, “Nobody noticed.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, honey, they noticed.”
Whatever her and others’ opinions of appearances, I’m astonished by how my legs feel within these bandages. There is absolutely no pain. No limitations on movement and flexing that’s generated by swelling. No stiffness. Before that, I had a regular evening struggle. Once my compression socks were removed for the day, swelling into my feet. This really affected my ability to bend and flex my ankles and toes. Exercising them came with a double shot of anguish. With these bandages, there is none of that.
Besides the shoes, the other drawback is the bathing limitation. The bandages can’t get wet. That means washing my hair in the sink and giving myself a sponge bath.
It’s a tiny sacrifice to have my legs, ankles, and feet feeling and doing so much better.
Most of us have tried glycyrrhizin at some time in our lives. Often in the U.S., trying glycyrrhizin is done during Easter. Easter is when parents give their children baskets of candy. Among those candies are frequently jelly beans. In the jelly beans are the licorice ones, which are black. Glycyrrhizin is what gives them their distinctive flavor.
Licorice is by nature a black product. Calling it black licorice is redundant. But that’s how things have evolved. While my wife enjoys ‘red licorice’ — which isn’t licorice at all because it has no glycyrrhizin in it — real licorice is my candy choice. Love the stuff. Naturally, it has its drawbacks (what in life doesn’t?); in the case of licorice, glycyrrhizin can have toxic side effects if too much is consumed. Keeping that in mind, I limit my licorice addiction, substituting bullseyes when a sugar fix is needed.
Daybreak’s first peeps brought awareness. Today is Saturday. Were I a child of the days back then, I’d be up with joy, heading into the kitchen for a bowl of cereal and into the living room to check out cartoons. Maybe it’d be Bugs and the Roadrunner. Johnny Quest. Speedy Gonzales, Top Cat, Deputy Dawg.
With awakening today, I thought, February 8, 2025. Taxes have been prepared but not filed. We owe money at this point so why pay now? Wait till the bill is due. Not acutally my philosophy; this was my spouse’s input.
It’s 25 F outside. Sunshine and clouds take turns showing themselves. Snow flurries fall. The road looks slick with ice. Snow is still the landscape’s dominant feature. Much melted off yesterday as the snow turned to rain and rain turned to sunshine. The temperature climbed into the low forties before retreating into the mid-20s overnight. ‘They’ tell us today will bring partly sunny skies into Ashland and a high in the upper thirties.
Today’s song is from a movie. The movie is is based on the 1979 book The Falcon and the Snowman: A True Story of Friendship and Espionage by Robert Lindsey. A friend of mine was the book’s editor, and he told about how the manuscript came to be in his hands and his conversations with the author, insights which I lapped up. The movie was released in 1985 and starred young Sean Penn and Timothy Hutton. I’ve posted about the hit song that emerged from it before. Suffice today to say that after reading news yesterday about PINO Trump and Musk — PINO Trusk — activities, The Neurons plucked the song from memory and has it rolling in the morning mental music stream. Key to the song’s position in the MMMS is the line repeated throughout the song, “This is not America”, which is also the song’s title.
Unfortunately, through an accumulation of actions and a confluence of misguided thinking and behavior, what we have now is America. It’s not the place visualized by our founders. Nor is it the nation which survived a civil war and two world wars. No, this is an ugly vision of America, and what many feared would happen. Too sadly, it is celebrated as ‘the right direction’ for a segment of the population.
I ran into coffee in the kitchen and consumed. Sunshine has lifted the light and temperature outside and the falling snow has faded. Ice has melted on the streets.
Things are looking up, for the moment, here in Ashlandia.
Be nice if I was given a sabbatical from aging. Feels like I’ve been aging my whole life.
It was great for a while. Then…aging started getting old. Now worries come up with every fart, creak, and groan these days. What is that? Do I need to worry about it or can I forget it?
That whole worrying about things is different when you’re aging. When I was young, I’d fall off a building, land on my head, bounce up with a little cry. Mom would spit on my injury and I’d motor on. Maybe Mom’s spit was magic; I haven’t tried that recently as I live across the country from her. Seems like all the issues she’s had related to her aging, if her spit was magic, she would have used it on herself. Then again, maybe a mother’s spit only works on her children. Maybe her spit aged and lost its magic. Either way, a year off from aging would be a wonderful break for me.
Michael Seidel, writer 