Floofweg(floofinition) – Chief navigable space, such as a path through a room, which constitutes the boundary line between clowders, herds, flocks, and packs. Origins: High Old Floofman, from tailswag.
In Use: “The dogs had their beds, and the cats had their trees, boxes, and beds, forcing Ali to follow a careful floofweg when she had treats to ensure the delicate balance of power wasn’t disrupted.”
In Use: “The established cats and dogs expected the floofweg to be respected but the kittens spilled across the boundary with careless, exuberant energy.”
I read several headlines this morning about a former NFL player.
Former NFL tight end Don Hasselbeck dies of a heart attack at age 70
Former Buff, NFL tight end Don Hasselbeck dies of a heart attack at age 70
Ex-Giants TE dies after going into cardiac arrest: ‘There is a 6’ 7” hole in our hearts’
Former Super Bowl winning tight end Don Hasselbeck dies at 70
Former NFL TE Don Hasselbeck, father of Matt, dies at age 70
Ex-NFL TE Don Hasselbeck, father of former QBs Matt and Tim, dies at 70
NFL Legend Don Hasselbeck Passes Away at 70
Don Hasselbeck dies at age 70: Former NFL tight end won Super Bowl with Raiders
It fascinates me how many different ways the headlines for the same story is presented. Some call Don Hasselbeck a legend. A few mention his sons, or just one of his sons. All mention his age, and that he was in the NFL. Most mention he’s a tight end or TE. Several call out the different teams he played for. A couple note that a heart attack killed him.
I probably saw him play on television, but I didn’t remember his name, as it happens with many pro athletes, musicians, actors, writers, and leaders. Only a few catch and hold our attention.
I guess they all give what they can, though. I respect that.
Yesterday hit 81 F here in Ashlandia. Remembering that, Papi was out early today to experience the improving weather. Energized by light and warmth in a way that I can only envy, he raced out the backdoor at 7 AM. A full sprint around the yard followed. A tree was charged and climbed halfway. Dropping back, full stalking mode was entered. Several pounces were practiced. Another grassy gallop and he was back to the door. “Want back in?” I asked. The cat answered with vigorous tail swishes and a race back across the yard.
All that without coffee. My Neurons were impressed.
I trudged through the room and asked Alexa for its take on the weather. Currently 54 F. Gonna climb to 79 F. Sunshine and clear skies all day. Cool grounds.
Twosda, April 15, 2025 has popped up on the calendar. We’re halfway through the fourth month of 2025. Shit seems to worsen by the day, politically speaking. Such as Trump apologizing for Russia’s Palm Sunday massacre, insisting it was terrible and a mistake. Russia said no such thing. Trump just gives his murdering friends cover.
Past that, a US citizen, born in this country, received an email that she had to leave the country. “Oh, that’s probably a mistake,” someone in the Federal government responded. Yeah, like the previous people deported without trials or evidence? Sure, I believe that shit.
Along those same lines, I don’t believe that Trump can’t get the individual mistaken sent to El Salvador, Kilmar Abrego Garcia. Trump doesn’t want to do bring the guy back. One, that would be a public admission that Trump erred. Trump doesn’t like admitting mistakes. Two, the optics of Trump bringing back a brown-skinned male who Trump accused of being a gang member would upset Trump’s MAGA base. Trump enjoys receiving their adulation too much for him to risk upsetting them. They think he’s peachy and he think’s they’re the greatest. The best.
Anyway, I have a song by Noah Kahan in the morning mental music stream. Kahan released “Hurt Somebody” in 2017. It’s risen through my mind’s debris because of things I thought which were similar to some of the song’s lines. My thoughts were, “What time is it? Wow, this morning is really going by fast. Where did the time go?” At that time, my hands were busy with my food and coffee prep, things usually done thirty minutes before then.
Noticing my thoughts, The Neurons put in the Kahan lines, “Don’t know where the time went. Stuck in the wrong mind set.”
Coffee has escaped into my bio once again. The caffeine is working its expected magic. Here I go into another day. Hope it works out well for me. Hope it works out well for you. Hope it works out well for us.
Michael Seidel, writer 