Science fiction, fantasy, and mystery writer. Singer (sorry, no shows) & nudist (in my home). Beer, cat, cheese, coffee, pie and wine friend. Left IBM and Silicon Valley for the southern Oregon life but I miss the ocean. We're too far inland. Gotta move.
Floofcode(floofinition) – 1. An agreement for behavior and cooperation between floofs or between humans and a floof or floofs.
In Use: “According to the floofcode, if Lucy fell asleep on Bob, Bob would stay motionless and not disturb his fur friend until the floof awoke of their own accord.”
In Use: “Although Sam would swat Kay to warn her, adhering to the floofcode, he never employed his claws.”
2. Method of communicating for humans with animals, or the converse.
In Use: “Rosa and her smart little puppy’s floofcode included her saying, “Beep beep,” meant he needed to move out her path or her chair.”
In Use: “Jade, rumored to be the world’s smartest cat, developed her own floofcode to deal with Brenda. Knocking things off the dresser at two AM meant she wanted out; throwing kitty litter out of her box onto the floor meant she was upset.”
I was busy scrubbing oven racks the other day. My Neurons played by themselves. Out of that rolled a remembered television commercial:
“New Ajax laundry detergent, stronger than dirt. (Stronger than dirt!)”
It’s a terrific slogan. Who wouldn’t want a cleaner that’s stronger than dirt? I bet the rest of the cleaners were so jealous because they weren’t stronger than dirt.
And how ’bout that knight with his magic lance? I could use a lance like that.
The sixth day of February has boarded our minds in the year of 2025 CE, a Thursdaz. Crazy frog — our home’s expression for freezing fog, based on a mondetext — has stolen the sunlight, gifting us twilight colors of, gray, white, and black. No snow falling but ‘they’ are warning us that more is on the way. It’s 32 F and greater warmth isn’t anticipated. Snow might be on the way. Or rain.
The primary roads have been plowed here but get off them and yer on yer own. Sidewalks on not cleared, so people must walk on the streets. Everyone gives pedestrians on the roads wide passage but given the environment, I imagine people walking worry with every step about someone losing control of their vehicle.
Weather caused cancellation of my first two lymphedema massage therapy sessions. Another one is scheduled for tomorrow. Also have an appointment for Papi the ginger blade, aka butter butt, Meep, and butter booger, to see what’s going on about his fur shedding.
The Ban Man is at it. Trump bans with a petulant thump. “Ban transsexuals in women’s sports.” Thump. “If I can’t have fun and play sports, neither can they.” “Ban DEI. I’m a rich white guy, born into a wealthy white household. I don’t understand how that was an advantage over others.” Thump. “Ban it all, everything that isn’t me.” Thump.
Of course, the craziness of the first term is still flowering. ‘The U.S. will take over Gaza. Move the Palestinians out.’ What? Friggin’ nuts. Then his ‘team’ scrambles to make it sound sane, plausible, and supported by everyone, and then Trump realizes how nuts he sounded and tries to change what he said. Brother.
It was a busy morning. Friend called to ask advice about his ailing cat. Another called for help with his recalcitrant computer. And, caught up with Mom drama via texts with Mom and a sis. Mom fell again. She refuses assistance and she’s been at war with her live-in boyfriend for months. She’s 89 and he’s 94. I have never witnessed him be anything but polite and nice to her but she declares him mean. My siblings and I have a lifetime of Mom so her claims draw leeriness as a first response. It’s unfortunate but she’s been married multiple times and has had several boyfriends, and drama is her drug. She makes everything contentious with everyone. It’s a sigh-inducing relationship with her.
With that gray-tinged white world staring back at us, it’s no surprise that The Neurons pulled a Cream song, “White Room”, into the morning mental music stream. It’s a Cream favorite o’ mine. A poet, Pete Brown, was responsible for the lyrics, which strike many as enigmatic. I think iyhat pushes me to look inside myself.
My favorite part is this stanza, followed by the chorus.
I like the way the stanza is belted out, angry, defiant, challenging, before the softly resigned introspection presented by the chorus.
Then, too, there are three phenomenal rock performers demonstrating their craft with bass guitar, lead guitar, and drums. Awesome.
Coffee and I introduced ourselves to one another again and I’m indulging in more caffeine-infused dark goodness. Hope your day offers some escape from the world’s woes and some satisfaction to your plans. Cheers
I might read and watch too many mysteries and thrillers. When I was shoveling off our walks and driveway, I flashed to different film and television show scenes where they’re digging to bury a body, recover a body, or looking for evidence. I didn’t find any of those things. Not even treasure.
Also, we survived the storm well. One of the comments my wife and I said to each other was about how dark the bathrooms were due to snow covering the solar tubes and skylights. We are such spoiled first world people.
“The Army Corps of Engineers suddenly opened up the dams of California’s Lake Kaweah and Lake Success over the weekend. The three day-long releases cost the two Tulare County reservoirs more than 2.2 billion gallons of water — and led to waves of ire in the state over the abrupt, Donald Trump-backed moves.” SF Gate.
Yes, that’s smart. About as smart as giving a toddler the keys to your car and telling them to go get more beers.
As smart of pointing a loaded gun at your own head.
Trump released water from those northern California reservoirs to fight the fires in southern California. That’s like sending a traffic cop to direct traffic in Pittsburgh when the accident is in Baltimore.
It will not help fight the fires in SoCal in any way, shape, or form. Instead, Trump has released water that planned for watering crops in the warm months of the year. You know, the months when rain and snow is not falling. During growing season. So he may have damaged the crops for the year by his brash foolhardiness.
Further, water in those reservoirs is used to fight wildfires in the north during wildfire season.
So, bang, bang, bang, that self-certified genius did damage to California, people’s safety and livelihood, and to the nation’s economy with one effort from his dim-witted brain.
How would it affect the nation’s economy? Simple supply and demand: less food causes less supply causes higher prices. They produce almonds, milks, grapes, walnuts, cherries, eggs and chickens, tomatoes, blueberries, and hay. No one uses those things, right?
Such a waste of BTW, San Jaoquin Valley voted Trump into office.
Greetings from snowy Ashland. It’s Wenzda, February 5, 2025. Our first snowstorm of 2025 came in, kicked our asses, stamped its feet, and moved on.
The entire time that it snowed, there was no wind. The snow fell straight down. The temperatures hung between 31 and 33 degrees. When the snow ceased late yesterday afternoon, the light shifted. Rosy hues colored the snow. Probably sunset from behind clouds, I speculated. Then, it all went gray.
Next, the temperature, released from its obligation to remain at freezing while the snow fell, shed nine degrees in three hours. Clouds now sail through blue skies and sunshine. Trees and utility lines are shedding large clumps of melting snow. It’s up to 29 degrees F. A high of 38 F is possible, ‘they’ tell us. When all the snow stopped falling, my yard was buried under 14 inches.
Watching all that snow falling yesterday, my wife summarized the day well for us: “I guess it’s good to be retired and not need to go anywhere.”
Yes, good thing, because the storm dropped a ton of chaos on our little town. White stuff falling from the sky really confused people’s sensibilities. Didn’t help that the city on which we depend on services seemed really confused by what was happening. Or maybe it was people out sick, miscommunications, or people overcome with two much going on. Roads weren’t getting plowed — no, some roads were getting plowed. Several roads were plowed over and over while other roads, particularly on the newer south end of town, didn’t see plows at all. For the record, our road was just plowed for the first time. It’s not a major matter, as it’s not that long and only has about forty houses on it.
FB photo of I-5 in the valley not far from Ashland. If you zoom in on the road, you’ll see what looks like a train. Those are actually semis stopped in traffic because the Interstate is closed.
Other factors threw complications into the mix. Trees and branches found new resting places on the ground. So did power lines. People who lived on hills parked down where the roads were flat and walked home. Snow convinced some folks to just stop their cars where they were and walk away.
Without much local media, we were at a disadvantage. The city did nothing to bridge that gap. We have an emergency text message system but that wasn’t engaged much, other to say, “It’s snowing. Stay home.” Our best tool turned out to be Facebook. Friends in three other parts of town reported their situation. Between the four of us, we could compare notes and track developments.
One thing that puzzled my household as we surveyed activities from our window: why were so many people out in light jackets without hats and gloves?
But it’s over. Lessons learned? Probably not.
Our snowstorm stirred memories of another snowstorm. This one was in 1978. I’d just returned from a tour of duty in the Philippines. My wife was living with her family in WV while I was overseas. Now, with me back in the U.S., we bought a car and were driving to a new duty location by San Antonio, Texas. A huge blizzard struck. We made the decision to get the hell out of there and drove several hundred miles through blinding snow.
Thinking back on that time, I looked through a pop list, remembering songs. I’d been overseas. This was pre-Internet, pre-satellite TV, etc. When I returned to the U.S., I felt a deep disconnection with the nation. Looking at a list of songs from that time, I saw “Follow You Follow Me”. I know the song but there’s no memories connected to it, much like a lot of music I know from that period. It’s just there, floating in my mind, unmoored to anything.
One good thing emerging from the two snow days for us is that we used the time to clean the oven and pantry. My wife was the major mover on the pantry, emptying it, tossing outdated stuff, wiping the shelves. I only helped with the reorg and handing things to her.
The bad thing about the snow days is that she kept getting sucked into the bad news cycle. Infuriating to watch the checks and balances disintegrating in the face of GOP complicity.
Coffee and I have ran into each other in the kitchen, so we sat and had a cup to talk about the day. Hope you enjoy a good one. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 