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.
Floofwrangling(floofinition) – 1. To herd, gather, or care for animals, especially pets.
In use: “Fostering kittens and puppies turned Sara into a floofwrangling expert, but her latest little demons were the most energetic and clever clowder she’d ever had.”
2. Arguing with an animal.
In use: “Mara was forced into daily floofwrangling with her Dobie over absolutely everything because the boy was smart and delighted in vexing her, which, ironically, was exactly why she loved him.”
I’m beginning a new DYI. Our GE Profile dishwasher stopped delivering the desired efficacy. Six years old, though, very old in modern appliance age, I guess it’s showing its age. Troubleshooting was done last night and I think I’ve identified the problem. Repair plans are in place for later today. Since the dishes were still dirty after three washings, my wife and removed the dishes. She washed them, then we dried and put them away.
I remembered when Mom bought her first dishwasher. A white portable unit with a faux blonde wood top. This was in the late sixties when we lived on Laurie Drive in Penn Hills, PA. Purchased from Sears, I think it was a Kenmore but I’m not pos.
The dishwasher was on wheels. She parked it over beside the backdoor where its top was useful for storing napkin holders and the salt and pepper shaker, along with pens and a notepad for the phone. Cherry red, the phone had been updated to a pushbutton device. Hung on the wall separating the kitchen and dining room, the phone had an extra long cord which let Mom cradle it against her ear as she cleaned, cooked, or sat at the dining room table or in the living room.
Her new dishwasher really pleased Mom. She employed it every night after dinner. Eventually life forced her to move, several times as it turned out as fortunes waxed and waned. Eventually the dishwasher was sold. She lamented its absence and when she finally bought a house for herself a decade later, my sisters and I came together and bought her a new portable dishwasher. Eventually, my brothers-in-law, both in construction, renovated her house for her, including the kitchen, and the dishwasher was installed under the sink, where it remains.
As I remembered all this and talked with my wife, she pointed out that her Mom never had a dishwasher. Always did it by hand. We often ‘did the dishes’ as it’s phrased when we were visiting.
Funny thing about dishwasher one and two. Neither gave her any problems through all those years, even though that second one has now been in service for almost thirty years.
Saturday, June 17, 2023, and the temperatures are dropping, preparing for summer in Ashlandia. Now 67 F with a cool breeze sometimes goosebumping us, today’s high will entrench itself in the upper 70s F. Tomorrow’s high will be 65 F and Monday, a rain recipient, has low expectations, just 55 F. Then it’s supposed to start slowly rising.
The morning began slow for me, a leisurely petting of the floofs, followed by a leisurely floof-petting session, capped with leisurely coffee-sipping on the porches to experience the cool air and spy on the floofs. Some interesting dreams to contemplate , including one about building a complex while dealing with a lion.
Today’s song, from 1991, is “Kiss Them for Me” by Siouxsie and the Banshees. The song features lines about being delayed. I was in the coffee shop yesterday when a man stopped by my table, looked back, and called to the person they’d been with, “Tell them I’ll be delayed.” I was writing and thought little of it but The Neurons went into a tizzy. Soon the song melody was drifting through me like smoke from a distant fire. Then I’d hum some lyrics to myself. Then, awakening to a song in the mental music stream, I realized that I’d been ambushed.
Just an aside but when the song came out in 1991, I didn’t think it was Siouxsie and the Banshees. It seemed different to me than their usual fare. like “Spellbound”. This is the first time that I’ve seen the “Kiss Them for Me” video.
Stay pos, drink coffee, unwind, relax, carpe the moment. Let’s do this again next year. Here’s the music. Cheers
I took a writing break and went for a walk. Gorgeous out there. Unfettered sunshine. 76 degrees F . Fragrances freed from blossoms and flowers surfed a light breeze. Submerging myself into the moment’s ambiance, I strode along.
A turn took me north, toward the far low mountain ridge. Blue sky rested on the peaks, but I drew up. The sky was hazy with dust or smoke.
Returning to my writing nest, I searched the net for wildfires and checked the air quality, worried that the smoke was sneaking in on us from one of them, worried that some conflagration was already growing and racing toward us.
Kankfloofdort (floofinition) – An awkward or embarrassing situation involving an animal.
In use: “Grace was in the middle of secretly giving treats to the scamperbeasts in the kitchen when in walked her dog. A kankfloofdort unfolded as Bear took in the treats and the munching cats, and then stared at her with hurt brown eyes.”
Here we are again on the little backwater establishment known as Earth. Look at the humans; aren’t they cute. Look at that old one, sipping coffee. Just adorable. He looks so sleepy.
It’s 6/16/2023. Friday. Cushioned with a light cool breeze, 64 degrees F and hopping up, Ashlandia is living a dreamy Friday morning. Blue sky and sunshine rule. Gonna get warm. 88 F, they say. I say 90.
Now, a correction. Not that anyone uses this blog for reminders but I thought last Sunday, June 11, was Father’s Day. That’s because my wife said it was. She was pointing at a sign in a store when she said it. It just locked into me. I hustled a card out to Dad but didn’t call him. Put it off because we’d just spoken a few days before. Neither of us are big pholks (phone folks).
Then I began noticing all these Father Day ads springing up and checked the calendar on my wall. Correction realized.
Injured my back yesterday while running. Only went a little less than a mile. Probably closer to a little less than half a mile. Didn’t feel anything snap, crackle, or pop, but when I finished, my back said, “Why did you do that?” It then stiffened like a flag in a strong breeze. The spouse unit, who regularly goes through aches and pains associated with her chronic malaise, provided me with a Salon Pas pad, which heated the back up very impressively, alleviating the pain and stiffness. After wearing it for six hours, I removed it per instructions and then applied CBD TherapyReLeaf to the area. Feel much better this morning, thanks. While the back’s pain surprised, I’m relieved I bounced back, knock wood.
A dream inspired The Neurons to plug a 1982 song by The Kinks, “Come Dancing”, into the morning mental music stream. The dream was all ’bout food prep and eating — mostly cakes and sandwiches — and then dancin’. Sort of chaotic, a little hasty, like the dream had been put together at the last minute and had a small budget. “Come Dancing”, a light song, fit the dream mood and is perfect for a relaxed Friday.
‘Bout done with my first cuppa. I’d gotten up and cleaned the kitchen. That slid things back a bit. Hadn’t been a plan to clean the kitchen. Wasn’t that dirty as my wife had tidied before leaving for her exercise class. We work well in tandems like that. Then ended up cleaning the primary litter box, a.k.a., the big ‘un.
Stay pos. Hope it’s a satisfying day in your existence. Here are The Kinks. Cheers
