Month: June 2025

Floofnouement

Floofnouement (floofinition) – The final outcome of the main dramatic complication involving animals. Origins: Floonch dénouement, literally, unfloofing, from Middle Floof desnouement, from desnouer to unfloof, from Old Floonch desfloofer, from des- de- + noer to tie, from Flooftin nofloof, from floofus floof.

 In Use: “Everyone held their breath when the huge old dog, who never succumbed to gratefully sharing his space with anyone met the tiny new puppy, but the floofnouement found the two stretched out, napping against one another like old friends.”

In Use: “George always greeted ideas of getting a cat with a dismissive grunt but the floofnouement revealed that George’s lap was the preferred napping site for the two tiny fur balls, a pattern that remained as long as man and beast were together.”

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The Mom Saga

The Mom Saga has resumed.

In the last episode, Mom, 89, was released from the hospital and returned home. Her pain was sourced in her sciatica nerve, which kept her from walking. Everyone realized her pain relief came from steroid shots and now she’s on a recurring program for steroid shots.

Meanwhile, her 95-yo live-in BF, Frank, half-blind and half-deaf, was experiencing dizzy spells. Mom and Frank have separate rooms. He was unable to help Mom, and she was found helpless in bed in piss-soaked clothes and bedding after nobody heard anything from her for a couple days, which precipitated the hospital stay. We’ve been trying to years to convince Mom and Frank to move into assisted living. Mom wanted to but Frank refused because he didn’t want to pay rent. Last week they were close to deciding to move when Mom announced she wasn’t going to move with Frank to live with him until he apologized to her for lying. The cited lie: Frank had lunch with his daughter while Mom could not walk. It gets complicated from there.  

We pick up the story with Mom back in her 1940s era three-story home with its steep, narrow steps.

Sister: Mom’s power went out last night and she was stuck in her room. As you know, she might as well be in a brick pizza over.

Editing note: The temp where Mom lives in Penn Hills hit 95 F yesterday. Mom has air-conditioning window units in her living room and bedroom, and that’s it. Her bedroom faces west.

Sister: We’re going on vacation this week. We’ve been planning this for months. We’ll be gone a week.

Editing note: ‘We’ in this context are the two sisters, husbands and SOs, and their immediate families.

Sister: Frank’s daughter, Karen, called this morning. She said, “We’re bringing Dad over to my house this week so he can rest. His doctor is worried about Dad’s heart and wants him to take it easy for a week. He’ll be wearing a heart monitor. So Dad won’t be staying at your Mom’s and won’t be able to help her.”

Sister: I proposed to Mom that she come and stay at my house while I’m away. It’s one level and air-conditioned.

Editing note: My sister’s house is a nice suburban ranch about fifteen years old, 1800 square feet, built after a fire destroyed her previous home.

Sister: We hired Marc to come and feed Cheesecake twice a day. Marc usually stays a while, has a cup of coffee and sits on the back porch.

Editing note: Cheesecake is sis’s cat.

Sister: We asked him if he would mind cooking a meal for Mom in the evening, filing her water glass in the morning, and making her a cup of decaf.

Editing note: Mom’s practice is to fill a 40 ounce plastic cup with warm water every morning and drink from it through a straw throughout the day. She likes a cup of warm decaf with hazelnut and almond milk in equal measure for breakfast, which is half a bagel with cream cheese. Her suppers vary. She loves KFC.

Sister: I also asked Jessica if she can check on Mom and I asked Sharon if she would mind coming by.

Editing note: Jessica is sis’s oldest daughter. Sharon is another sister. Sharon, two years younger than me, still works. She has a complicated relationship with Mom.

Sister: Sharon says she will be away over the weekend and beginning of next week.

Sister: I just talked to Jessica. She just pretty much straight out said, “I have a relationship with grandma and I’m going to be very busy. You know we have very little time. I of course can find it in my heart to come over there if need be,” but she doesn’t feel obligated.

Editing note: Jessica also has a complicated relationship with Mom. She also has three sons. The oldest is fourteen and their ages descend in two year steps.

That’s where the Mom Saga stands for the day. Tune in tomorrow for more exciting updates in The Mom Saga.

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Wenzda’s Wandering Thoughts

I had a haircut earlier this month. Really? Which one? *tish*

My wife said, “You look nice. Your hair looks really good.”

“Thanks,” I answered. I was leaving for the coffee shop. “I have a campaign to look less homeless. My hair is too short.”

“Looks good.”

“Too short. It’s shorter than it was when I was in the military because I have less of it now.”

“It looks good.”

“It’s too short.”

“It looks good.”

“Agree to disagree. See you later.”

“It looks good.”

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Wenzda’s Theme Music

Daylight come and it’s time to get up. That was not always the case. A shift worker for over a dozen years, I was often driving home as the sun bite into the sky.

Not so today, Wenzda, June 25, 2025. Let’s run the Ashlandia summer day checklist: cool night; check. Blue sky; check. Bright sun; check. Temperature in the low 80s; well, that’s not usual. We generally reside in the 90s at this point but I enjoy the 80s more, when we’re talking temperatures in Fahrenheit. Today, the sun will rouse us from the 60 F where we now chill to the low to mid 80s.

The neighborhood is lazy with low passing vehicle noises and a number continuing a porch project. No trains or aircraft are heard today, and the birds are circumspect in their discussions. I’ve not read much news yet this AM and continue to dwell in a ‘wait-and-see’ spirit. That spirit has songs ’bout trouble circulating in the morning mental music stream. Coming into six months of TACO’s second presidency, many balls are in the air. We’re witnessing the GOTP sabotaging justice and the legal system, the education and healthcare systems, environment and the economy, doing so under the guise of progress while ignoring fact-loaded decades. Meanwhile, PINO TACO saber rattles like he’s an old battle hand and not the coddled man-child born with a silver spoon in his mouth.

The Neurons cultivated a broad selection of trouble songs for the old stream. From it, Buddy Guy’s take on trouble, “I Smell Trouble”, has assumed dominance.

Into the day we go. What happens next, nobody knows. Hope yours goes well. Cheers

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Another Dream Car

One of my dreams last night left me puzzled but optimistic and in a better mood when I awoke. As I went over its details with myself, one part that captivated me was it featured my first car.

In the dream, I was a young man again, and I was driving my first car. This was a 1965 Mercury Comet. Forest green, it was a four door automatic sedan with a 289 V8.

Dad gave me the car. He’d recently remarried, and this was his new wife’s transpo. Dad bought himself a used service van at an auction to drive to and from work, and turned over his 1974 Chevy Monte Carlo to her to drive. I was completely blown away by their decision. They’d not talked to me about it ahead of time. Until then, I’d been hitching or walking to get around.

With a car, I suddenly had a dating life and began dating the girl who is my wife. Our dates were never much because, car or not, I didn’t have much money. Dad did give me gas money and a few bucks besides. But I was in high school and on sports teams, and local jobs in our rural region were scarce.

After graduating, I joined the military and went in for training. After I returned home from basic training and tech school, I drove that car three hundred miles through a snow storm to my new duty assignment at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, Fairborn, Ohio. It was a taxing drive. Ice and snow were thick on the car by my journey’s end.

One day, the car wouldn’t start. It was probably a starter or selenoid switch. As it was a 1965 car and this was 1975, and it was a four-door sedan, I did what many guys would do, and bought my first used car, a sleek little 1968 Chevy Camaro with a 327 V8. Ah, fun car! Young car!

I left the Comet sitting in its parking spot. A man saw it sitting there without movement, hunted me down, and bought it. I’m not sure how much he gave me but I didn’t haggle. The thing is, though, when he went to change registration, he learned it was still Dad’s car.

Oh, yeah.

Dad was pretty pissed but the sale went through. I still laugh about it, and he still shakes his head.  

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Twosda’s Wandering Thoughts

I had oral surgery with a dentist last week. They sent me home with a ‘complimentary’ pint of chocolate ice cream. Later that week, I found flowers from my dentist waiting on my porch: yellow roses with yellow and white daisies and baby’s breath. When I told others about these things, people replied, “I can see the ice cream. But flowers? I’ve nver heard of anyone receiving flowers from their dentist.”

I grinned. “I think you just need to spend enough money. Tier one is ice cream. Tier two, and they include flowers.”

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Floofeffect

Floofeffect (floofinition) – Impact of animal activities on psyche, emotions, or mood. Origins: Internet, the United States, 2001.

In Use: “During the COVID-19 pandemic, people began discovering the positive floofeffects which fur people can deliver, and adoptions shot up.”I

In Use: “Hearing his cat’s happy chirp when Alex dished out wet food always lifted Alex’s mood, no matter how crappy the rest of us day was.”

In Use: “Running with her dog and playing with her in the park gave Barb a floofeffective of energy like a B-12 shot in the arm.”

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Two Related Dreams

Two nights past, I dreamed I was being snatched. I was arriving at work each time, which amounted to showing up at a desk where a computer was set up. Others were there — all men, most in suits and ties — setting up their own computers or opening briefcases, talking on phones, or grabbing one another for a quick consult. No one noticed me. I was fine with that.

In the first snatch, a white, muscular man with short hair, wearing a sky-blue shirt, came up and grabbed me. As I struggled against him, demanding who he was, he carried me away. That’s essentially what happened with each snatching, and I think I was snatched a dozen times. A different man grabbed me every time but they were always white, with short hair (usually brown or blonde), wore a sky blue shirt, and had red arm tattooes.

But my reactions grew different, and I grew aware of the impending snatch attack, so the circumstances varied in degrees. During that first one, I was completely surprised. The second one, I was briefly startled but had time to worry about my wife, who was working at another space some distance away. The third time found me exasperated that it was happning again, and had me telling others to inform my wife what happened. The fourth instance, I was more resigned but appealed to the men around me to help me stop what was going on. That happened several more times. Each time I was taken, I was irritated that nobody paid attention, but that’s essentially where it ended; then I would arrive at work and get taken again. By the ninth time, I was expecting it and trying to figure out what to do to stop them. By the twelth, I tried immediately running away when I arrived. My captor expected that and I was easily taken.

Thinking about the dream the following morning, I thought it represented frustrations. At home, executing my budgeteer persona, I fix things and more things break. Likewise, I go to the doctor for one issue, get it resolved, and another arises. I feel like I’m on a bad news conveyor belt. My wife’s health is declining. Mom and Dad are both in spirals of decreasing health and increasing concern and have been for half a decade plus. Personally, I feel frustrated and thwarted by my fiction writing efforts. Politically and economically, I see my nation and the greater world becoming mired in increasing chaos of growing intensity. Personal rights and responsibility seem to be shrinking. I don’t feel like I can do much about any of them. This, frankly, pisseds me off.

So, last night, I dreamed I was tearing things down and rebuilding them. This was being done via huge slabs. I don’t know the slabs’ materials, but they were sized like large pizza boxes. Extremely hard and heavy, they were in shades of gray or black. Light didn’t reflect off them. Each was marked in large bas relief with ‘2804’. I’m clueless about what 2804 means.

At first, I was simply moving them. One at a time, I’d picked one up and relocate it to a new position. As I was doing this, I began pausing to consider my actions and be more selective about what slab I picked up and where I put it. I also started re-arranging some slabs that I previously moved. After some period of doing this, I wondered, what am I doing? I heard a voice respond, “You’re rebuilding.”

I reacted, “Oh, okay, cool. That’s good.” Finishing, “I need to rebuild,” I resumed lifting and moving the blocks with new energy.

Dream end.

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