Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Floofrenting (floofinition) – Act of raising an animal.
In use: ‘”Contrary to some web sites, floofrenting isn’t about leasing an animal’s use for a period of time,” Sharon explained to John. “It’s about taking them in and helping them mature to be the best animal they can be and have a satisfying life.”‘
A lion dream that left me breathless was experienced last night. I was in a village which seemed to be on an island. Small cottages and huts were built in the jungle around a small stream that fed into the ocean. Going left, I’d come out on the beach, and then, there was the ocean.
Well, on this day, I walked around a hut alongside the stream, when I stopped in shock; on the other side of the stream, where the jungled abutted the beach, was a sleeping male lion. He was huge.
Terror and worry struck me like a lightning bolt. Backing up in a frenzy, I tried warning others about the lion, fearing it would awaken and attack us. Then children saw the lion and screamed. Awakened, the lion crossed the stream and headed for me. I at once wanted it to come after me so it wouldn’t get others but also didn’t want to be gotten. Trying to get away, I couldn’t get any traction in the sound. The huge lion came right up on me.
It began pawing my leg, but in a friendly manner. Then it sniffed and licked me. I calmed down but remained doubtful that this lion just wanted to be my friend, but that’s exactly what it seemed to be. Relaxing, I let the lion come up beside me, standing still as it rubbed its head and face on my hip.
Awakening reflections, I thought, I must be needlessly fearful and worried about something. Later, I sorted through what the could be, but it’s a long and complicated list, one I don’t want to share with the world.
Meeting my sisters again, I reflected on happiness and success. Each sister has demonstrated at one time or another that they seemed supremely happy and successful only to have disaster, devastation, upheaval, foisted on them, forcing them to begin again. It’s always a journey. You can find and lose it all repeatedly. Learning to keep your balance as it swirls around you remains key to me.
Mood: bounding
This is it, W-day, the event planned for over a year, the wedding day for my nephew, David, and his GF, Andrea. Charming, intelligent, fun people. I wish them the best and I’m happy to be here to take part. He’s 35 and we were a little skeptical he’d ever marry. He had a steady GF for twelve years but she didn’t want children. So, the chasm was there and off they went, their separate ways.
Their wedding is so different from my own experience, just me and my wife, with two friends in a chapel on Wright-Pat with a self-described broken-down boxer officiating. That was over 48 years ago of ups and down, in and outs. We’ve come to a comfortable balance, forgiving one another for irritations, supporting one another, and making each other laugh.
I met her parents last night, learned how they met, and where they live, and what they do. They lean different politically than I do, as does most of her family who I spoke to. All are from the midwest, mostly from small cities. The bride and groom share my political philosophies and live here in PGH. Don’t know how much all that matters as far as relationships; we were all amiable last night.
One woman I met works for a gun manufacturer. She walks a tightrope, her words, to strike a balance between the two sides. She told me that when growing up, her father, a Vietnam War vet, didn’t allow guns in the house. He told her, he knows what they can do. He also seemed to worry that the sight or sound of a gun might trigger a reaction in him.
W-day weather is finely shining, coolly comfortable, with a cloudless embrace and teasing light winds. High: 72 F.
Still tracking what Lee is doing to the Northeast, following tales of Hunter Biden, Donald Trump, Kevin McCarthy, Elon Musk, Aaron Rodgers, etc. Once begun, the cycle goes on until it’s spun dry.
“The Load Out/Stay” with Jackson Browne is in the morning mental music stream (Trademark underwater). The Neurons put it in there as I talked to people’s mode to arrive here. Many drove nine to eleven hours to get here, accomplishing it over two days. Don’t like the airlines and the pain inflicted by travel — anxieties and irritations over flight connections, security, personal space, and the expensive ticket prices. I can understand that. Why, exactly, “The Load Out/Stay”? Because hearing them talking, I visualized loading up the car, just as I did when younger to go cross country, and what I still do for in-state vacations.
Stay pos, be cool, be strong. Coffee has been consumed; time to walk about, visit a part of Pittsburgh no longer familiar to me. Here’s the song. Cheers
Posting note: once again victimized by WordPress; post went into autosaving mode and never left it. Had to start over, once again. And then, one more time. Sigh. Tech can be capricious but conversely, where would we be without the dang stuff?
Mood: variable, sunny to moody to frustrated to pensive
W-1. Wedding is tomorrow night. Tonight is the meet n’ greet cocktail gig. Don’t know who will attend, so anticipation has a ragged edge. Several sisters and their spouses bowed out. Bummer but they have issues they’re dealing with, such as preparing for surgery or dealing with a teenage son dealing with his newfound health issues. The son loved playing basketball; now, due to fits of dizziness caused by medication used to combat seizures, he can’t play b-ball. His weight has ballooned by twenty pounds and he’s of course, depressed. Not a good place for a fourteen year old or his parents and family.
We’ve moved hotels. The first, a Holiday Inn Express, was chosen for easy access to family and familiarity with the area, Monroeville and Penn Hills. Now we’ve shifted to the Hyatt House in Shadyside, where the wedding will be.
Weather here continues to be big sun and cool air, a pleasant, refreshing, relaxing combo. Sounds like a drink advertisement: “Drink weather, a pleasant, refreshing, relaxing flavor that your body and mind will love.”
Still reeling from the Libya flooding disaster. We just seem to pivot from disaster to disaster: within the past few weeks we surfed from Hawaii’s fires to Morocco’s quakes (over twelve thousand dead) to Hurricane Lee to Libya’s flooding (over one thousand dead) to the tropical storm formerly known as Lee, with some domestic and political drama (auto worker strikes, Hunter Biden’s legal issues, China’s missing defense minister) sprinkled over it to add depths.
Los Neurons have activated Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers with “The Waiting” (1981) in the morning mental music stream (Trademark unheard of). It’s fitting. Although well-practiced in waiting (I’m 67, been married over 48 years, and was in the military for over twenty years, things which all reinforced the need to wait for things to happen), I’m not good at it. After months of slow pacing toward the day, acceleration exploded this week. Suddenly days are falling off the cliff and the moment is here. But that sort of time change happens with many things we’re anticipating, doesn’t it.
Stay pos and be strong, and try to stay sober. I’ll do the same. Hand me that coffee, wouldja? Here’s the beats. Cheers
Floofsick (floofinition) – Missing a fur friend, and thinking about them, no matter what the circumstances.
In use: “Being away from his floofjoys, M would think of them each morning, hoping they were okay, trying to think brainwaves to them to reassure them he would be returning soon.”
Mood: brisk
It’s W-2: two days before the wedding. The women have been comparing dresses and shoes for the event and talking about their hair.
Men have been complaining about how their clothes fit.
Nervous excitement is burgeoning.
It’s September 14, 2023, in the burgh of Pitts, Pennsylvania. Lovely fallish weather with a low 70s F high. Sweeet. Family visits have been fun. Instructional. We catch up on matters of health and recent experiences, with a common refrain about how conversational matter has changed through the years; we used to talk about many other matters. We still do, but the proportions have shifted. Mom looks good, better than expected from the daily text message complaints and updates she provides. My sisters and their hubbies look well, healthy, happy, but that defies some of the topics and details they go into.
My wife and I are enjoying a swell time, although sharing a bathroom demonstrates privilege and how we’ve taken for granted having two bathrooms to spread out and do our morning things. With one BR, regimenting and rationing time and functions is required. We’re used to two places, where it can all be done in parallel, without interference from the other.
For a while, The Neurons entertain me with the song “Sisters” by Irving Berlin from 1954 in the morning mental music stream (Trademark laughable). Both parts were sung by Rosemary Clooney. I know the words well because both Mom and my wife would sing that song, although I’ve never heard the two of them sing it together. It’s a terrific ditty about love and relationships.
But those those Neuron scamps brought up D. Bowie with “Changes” from 1972, because, you know, I’m driving around the old life zones from my youth around Penn Hills and Monroeville, spotting changes and differences, right?
Stay pos, be strong and brave, and keep pressing forward. I’ll try doing the same. Coffee helps me on my journey. Hope you got something that helps you, too. Okay, pressing on. Here’s the beats. Cheers
I was at a drama and writing camp. Maybe forty others were present. I didn’t know anyone else. Some of them knew one another. Ages ranged from mid-twenties to mid-sixties. Though I’m a RL 68, I’m around 40 here. It’s a rustic sort of setting.
One of the more popular people is a younger, dramatic person. A large black dog accompanies her everywhere. While we’re at one of our outdoor gatherings milling around, her dog eyes me, and then cuts through the crowd to visit with me. So does a cat. The dog’s actions surprises everyone. After a friendly visit with him, he returns to his person. The cat rolls around and is given affection.
The oldest person there comes to me with a sword. I’m not a sword expert but it reminds me of a US Civil War calvary officer saber. He points it at me at first, talking about it a while, and then presents it to me for my inspection. I’m mystified and leery by what he’s doing. It seems a little off center and nutty. He sort of brusquely pouts and asks for me to give him back his sword. Naturally, I do and he walks away. Okay, fine.
Well, sometime during the night (in the dream), I then write a long short-story about the woman with the dog and the man with the sword. I don’t know how but others come to me, explaining that they’d heard I’d written a short story. They wrote something too, and they think that we can combine the work. The woman with the dog knows about it, too, although she only knows me as the guy who dog went to. But, since her dog likes and trusts me, she wants to work with me.
So I agree, and then sit and edit, rewrite, and revise, adding more, and breaking the story up into four parts. Four us, including the women with the dog, come together to read and combine what another guy has written. They start reading it aloud, and the rest of the camp comes to listen, including the man with the sword. When he hears it, he comes to me to have his part expanded and reveals some things to me.
With the black dog and the cat beside me, I quickly revise and write more. Everyone is really pleased by the results. People are telling me, “I think you nailed it.” They want to know what else I’ve written, and are giving me other ideas for story, because they think I’d be the best person to write it.
Dream end
Michael Seidel, writer 