Friday’s Wandering Thought
He read in a paper, “…they were laying down on their stomach.” He frequently reads sentences like that and wonders, is down necessary? Could they be laying up or in another way? It seems redundant.
Like that phrase so constantly heard, “I was thinking in my head.” Like, where else do you think? Explain.
Slideday’s Theme Music
We continue with a shrinkage problem here in Ashlandia. Yes, the snow patches are holing and shrinking. Snow repair teams were sent in yesterday. Although they worked with demonic intensity, it was slapdash, thin in many places, and the snow continues to disappear.
It’s Friday, March 3, 2023 — 030323 — in Ashlandia. Call it Slideday, though. Came up with that decades ago as I noticed bosses and organizations often let things slide on Friday. “We’ll pick it up Monday.” Unless customer orders, hard delivery dates, or the end of quarter/end of year was underway. Then you work until it’s done, damn the day of the weak.
Sun’s presence struck Ashlandia at 6:43 this AM. Starting at 26 F, the temperature climbed to 32 F and will go on to 42 F today. A weather monitor told us on TV last night that our average daytime high temperatures are hanging about ten degrees below normal. Ashlandia will see sunset at 6:03 this evening. Stretched white clouds sail a faint blue sky. Sunshine smiles on it.
Got a favorite song in the morning mental music stream. Reading the news inspired The Neurons to dig up an old political ditty performed by this Brit group, The Who. No, not the Guess Who?. Told the tale of Mom buying this album for me when I employed it as a theme song back in 2017, so I won’t belabor that aspect. I cranked up the stereo for “Won’t Get Fooled Again” back in 1971. Hard to believe that was just 52 years ago. Seems like just 20 years ago.
Stay pos and seize the slideday. I’m seizing the coffee. It’s a start, right? Carpe caffeine. Here’s the memory music.
Cheers
Thursday’s Wandering Thought
Snow men, women, and children guard the college dorms, apartment buildings, and many residences. The sun retreats behind clouds in the face of such numbers.
Flooformation
Flooformation (floofinition) – 1. Animal’s ability to change its look, attitude, or behavior.
In use: “Crystal was a sweet little Bombay black with a softly questioning meow, a deeply happy purr, and the most gorgeous black velvet fur. She loved sleeping on laps, but the first sound of an animal fight brought a flooformation into baleful-eyed ninja cat, terrifying other animals — and humans who got in her way.”
2. A change to an animal brought about by care, patience, and/or medical assistance.
In use: “His first years in the neighborhood, Tucker was identified as a black and white terror, a beast unwilling to back down and eager to bring it on. Dental work, patient words, and a home to call his, and his flooformation into a doting lap cat began.”
3. The standard pecking order or line up shared by animals.
In use: “When Michael took the cats for a walk at night — his three, with the neighbor’s big orange cat joining them — they always used the same flooformation, Jade on point, Rocky and Sammy flanking her, and the neighbor cat finishing the diamond as a rear guard. With Michael setting the pace and direction, the five moved as one.”
Fursday Theme Music
Sunshine beamed in on gray rays at 6:45 Ashlandia morning time. As the hours scurry past, snow fields lose their battle against heat. Their edges draw in with softer roundness. Reinforcement flurries are flying in later today. Will it be enough? Will it arrive in time? It’s dire for the snow. Caught in the situation, icicles cling to gutters and drainpipes. Crystallized snow falls off branches and leaves with tinkling hisses.
It’s 31 F, on its way to 44 F, according to the weather mongers.
It’s Thursday, March 2, 2023, a hazy wintry shade. Spring has temporarily slid its intentions back into the Ashlandia shadows. But fresh stocks of doughnuts are in stores and bakeries. Sunset arrives in the evening, 6:03.
Les chats aren’t pleased with the weather situation, particularly Papi. His energy boils up. Sunshine reinvigorates him. Tthere he goes, dashing through the snow…well, not dashing, but employing small steps, bean-toeing on his tiny paws — such small murder mittens, he has — back to the house’s inside warmth for distraction. We have things to do, we explain to him, around petting and playing with him. More, he begs with sweet eyes and voice. What are we to do against such a power but obey?
I cleaned our carpetting the other day. As I drifted through that mechanical process, my freed mind contemplated me, my life, my writing. Cleaning house is always a meditative function for me. As thoughts joined and fragmented, I drifted through the usual shallows of who I am, where I’m at, and where I’m hiding. Out of this, The Neurons pulled a song up, dusted it off, and put into into the mental music stream where it still plays this morning. “Holly Holy” by Neil Diamond” when I was a young teenager. Looking it up, records show it was 1969. It wasn’t a popular song among my friends. Too slow and most said, “I don’t understand it.” Nor did I. It’s buildup hooked me, and I sat, listening to the words, trying to get them right, baffled by what I heard. But I heard and understood some of the first lines, “Where I am, what I am, what I believe in,” had me. This is an exploration and a declaration. I identified with it.
Coffee’s aromatic steam rises from my cup, enticing my lips. Stay pos, and own this Thursday like it’s a gift you didn’t expect. Here’s the tune. Cheers
Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts
He hated to do it. It seemed shameful. But.
He was helping a friend, staying in contact, checking on her, trying to encourage her. But she’d become belligerent lately. Combative. Seriously negative.
It exhausted him. He decided he needed a break. Had to take care of himself so he could take care of her. It felt like a rationalization, but he knew he was right.
The Case of the Snowy Footprints
I looked out the front door windows. It’s a daily thing, glancing out when I first leave the bedroom, on alert for zombies, mushroom clouds, or cats waiting to come in. What I saw locked me in the space.
Footprints in the snow came up the walk to the porch.
I’d checked the area around three AM. I’d been up – cat business – and fetched a glass of water. Since I was in the area, I looked out. No footprints marred the walk’s snow, then. Not even animal prints.
Putting on shoes and picking up my phone, I went out to ensure nothing on the porch was gone. Two chairs and a glider are out there. But thieves have been going around stealing whatever is available. The footprints were photographed. One compared to my foot, so I’d guess it’s a men’s 10 ½. The other was smaller.
I traced the steps to the garage. They’d followed my tire tracks up to the garage and then went up the walk.
Could be I’m paranoid. Maybe totally innocuous. Our security camera died last year.
Time to buy a new one.
