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.
Subfloofminal(floofinition) – 1. An animal who makes little impressions on others.
In use: “Dixie was such a loving dog with her people but was shy and withdrawn to the point of being subfloofminal. Many visitors claimed they didn’t know a dog live there, for Dixie always spirited herself into hiding when company arrived.”
2. Doing something for an animal without the need of conscious thought.
In use: “Petting Herc was subfloofminal; the big dog would steal onto a nearby space where Donovan’s hand could find Herc’s head, and that’s what Donovan always did, as if the pooch commanded him telefloofically.”
Happy hump day, camels. Maybe it’s hump day for you. Wednesday is often so designated. Mid-week, people consider it the hardest to bestir themselves to endure. Hardest to get up, process, and function. Even coffee and energy drinks seem to do little…for a while. But then, as the morning hours pass and the afternoon arrives, they realize, they’re going to make it. And if they can make it through Wednesday, they can make it the rest of the week.
Course, hump day isn’t always Wednesday for some people. Some feel hump day on Monday. If they can get through Monday, then all else is gravy. Or hump day is Thursday and if Thursday is survived… You get it. I’ve beaten it sufficiently that little life remains.
Today is November 24, 2021. We’re racing toward the year’s end. Just consider: next Wednesday is December 1.
Sunrise split the valley into light and dark at 7:12 AM. The sun’s warming light will fade out of the valley starting at 4:43 PM. Current temperature is 29 F, according to my thermometer, and the cats agree, declaring, “Cold. Gimme heat.” Net says it’s 39, but then the sun hasn’t actually entered my yard yet. Still just clearing the mountains and forests. Give it time, right? High temp should be 55 today. The sky is deceptively summer blue. Looks warmer than it is.
I have “Little Talks” by Of Monsters and Men from 2011 echoing in the morning mental music stream. The song came about because I was reading about how people read data about the COVID-19 pandemic and vaccinations, and reached their own conclusions about vaccines not working. They called this their truth. They then lamented that they were blocked, locked out, or shut out of whatever forum they were using because they were spreading misinformation. From all of that, I thought of “Little Talks” and the line that goes, “Though the truth may vary, this ship will carry our bodies safe to the shore.”
Yes, the truth can be complicated. What was true a hundred years ago might not be true now. We learn, we grow, we develop new understanding and discover what we held as the truth was wrong. The truth now, though, is that data supports the vaccines, masking, and social distancing. The truth, though, is also that variants will emerge and break through. The truth is that we will know more in a year, and we’re not sure where COVID-19 and humanity will stand at that time.
Damn. Now I need coffee. Stat.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax and booster when you can. The truth is, that will help most of us survive. Cheers
Infloofstation(floofinition) – Presence of an unusually large number of animals in a place.
In use: “With seven cats (and counting), four dogs, several birds, some lizards, a frog, tortoise, guinea pigs, hamsters, and rabbits in the house (and llamas and goats outside), some would say they had an infloofstation, but they were downright joyful in the presence of all these animals, happily petting them, accepting and giving kisses, and feeding and taking care of them.”
The dream was odd. It was about me and two balls. Ahem. These were small hard-rubber balls. They easily fit in the palm of my hand. I’d been traveling with friends. The friends included a person I worked with about fifteen years ago — a female who I’ll call S — along with a male that I didn’t know, who was white and my age, and another female not known to me, but a friend in my dream. The male and I were throwing the ball as we chatted. First, we seemed to be in a mall but moved on to a gathering that was by a beach. As we went, we encountered other people, talking with them.
I also discovered a special affinity with the balls. Although dull red and normal in appearance, I discovered that I could hurl them with great power and accuracy. I first found this on my own, then decided to explore it with my male friend. This happened first in the mall area. He was about fifty feet away. I thought, I can really put some speed on this. Worried about him not being able to catch it, I refrained from throwing it too hard. After visualizing a six-inch square target in my mind, I threw it with impressive velocity. It landed right where I wanted but he had trouble managing to bring it in.
S joked with me about the balls. Out on the beach, I explained to the male friend that the ball was energized; I fed off its energy and it fed off mine. It was a matter of being in the moment. I thought that anyone could do it. He asked for a demonstration of what I meant. I sent him out into the water because I didn’t think he could catch it and I didn’t want it hurting anyone. When he was about a hundred yards out, with waves splashing over his knees, I whipped the ball at him. It shot out above the water with a little rooster tail. He flinched and missed it. The ball skipped into the water.
But I had a second one in my hand. Using the second ball, I called the first ball back to me. My throwing prowess catch the attention of the crowd. They clamored to see more. I discovered by trying that I could throw the ball in a high, long arc that would bring it back to me, and that I could catch it. After I demonstrated this, others gathered, including male and female children. I kept telling them that they could do it, too, and then would throw it to show them. They would try to repeat what I was doing but kept falling short. Some tried catching the returning ball when I sent it off in a long arc, but it would usually come in too fast for them. Even when they missed, I could put out a hand and have the ball return to me, even after it rolled to a stop on the ground.
S said, “You’re pretty good with those. I think that’s something special.” I thanked her with a laugh. That’s where the dream ended.
Today is 327, by the Julian calendar. Pretty straightforward, innit, ‘stead of all that Tuesday, November 11, 2021 stuff, but not as poetic and evocative. You give a day, say, Tuesday, and you think of things. Birthdays, work, anniversaries, songs. 327, I pretty much think of a Chevy engine, Corvettes and Camaros. I also think, 3+2+7 = 12 = 1 + 2 = 3.
Sunrise split the gauzy cloud layers at 7:11 AM. The sun will conduct business in our realm until 4:43 PM. No appointment necessary. Temperatures will be warmer for the lows (39) and colder for the highs (45) than yesterday. Rain showers are possible with no great accumulation.
I have the Boomtown Rats playing from 1977 in the morning mental music stream. I ascribe its presence to the holiday shopping season bearing down on us. While it’s supposed to be a season of giving, watching people on the television going nuts buying things really causes me to doubt the purpose behind it all. The car commercials and their enormous sales, about people spending gobs of money to buy a car to make this ‘a season to remember’ doesn’t help at all. The song is all about selfishness, and that’s what I see as the final manifestation of much of the buying going on. It’s a gimme gimme gimme time of year.
Well, stay positive — yeah, sure you’re feeling pos after my minor screedette — test negative for COVID-19, get the vax and booster when you can, and wear a mask as needed. Speaking of needed, I have a need for coffee. Catch you on the flip side. Cheers
