There was a cat in the pantry
A floof with the flour
Back past a few cans of beans
Though washing a leg
He issued a green-eyed gaze
That asked, why are you looking at me?
The Problem
Issuing a hard squawk, a jay glided into the backyard, settling among the crispy brown weeds after a few hops. Cool mountain air stirred the firs and cherry tree bordering the yard.
A ginger and white cat shading herself on the patio flipped over onto her belly and watched the bird. Green eyes grew big. Watchful. She chittered.
The bird snapped off a chirp. Cat and bird glanced around. Six AM on Saturday, a fenced yard. No humans were about.
The cat strolled into the weeds. Bird hopped to her. Exchanges were issued. Then, business.
“What you got?” the cat asked.
“Not much. Neighbors across the street have gone camping. Will be back Friday. Fran, two doors down, fell. Bruised herself but broke nothing. Sissy was sunning herself on her roof yesterday, started taking selfies and almost fell off.”
The cat chuckled. “People.”
“You?”
“Not much. Bear visited the Miltons. Drained their hummingbird feeder. Flipped over a trash can.”
“Heard that. You pass this stuff on to your people?”
“Try. I tell them but they don’t seem to grasp it.”
“Well, keep trying, sister.”
“You, too, brother.”
“Keep cool.”
“Stay safe.”
They parted ways. A while later, the man entered the backyard. Chuckled the cat’s way. “Heard you and that bird going at it.”
The cat meowed several times back, trying to convey the information learned.
“What is it? What are you telling me? You hungry? Want water? A treat? What is it?”
The cat repeated the stories the bird had shared.
The man shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say.” He went on to water the garden.
The cat sat down with a sigh. That all summed up the problem. People could hear but couldn’t understand.
Wednesday’s Theme Music
“And the beat goes on. Drums keep pounding a rhythm to the brain. La di da da dee.”
Welcome to this version of Wednesday. It’s July 14, 2021, the only time it’ll ever be this day and date. The future is now.
Sol’s first rays struck at 5:47 AM. Sunset will be at 8:46 PM. Temperatures are cooler today, 90 degrees. That’s good news for fighting and containing the Bootleg Fire. 100 miles to the east, it has burned through over 212000 acres. Although now eight days old, it’s zero contained and has burned down transmission lines, disrupting power to California while filling the area’s air with smoke.
It’s not the only worrying fire. Just the biggest and most fierce. Meanwhile, COVID-19 case numbers are rising again. Only sporadic evidence but I suspect the ABC gang — anything but COVID believers — happily embraced no masks and no vaccines as variants turn up. Perfect storm of ignorance and mutation, giving new life to COVID-19. The stories keep coming out about those people, like the 23-year-old emergency room news who died of it. A denier to the end, she was never vaccinated. Her parents have tested positive for COVID-19 as well. Sad situation. Worse because it could have been averted.
Well, get the vax, wear a mask as needed, stay positive, and test negative. Here’s some Midnight Oil from 1990 with “Blue Sky Mine”. Cheers
Floofbulence
Floofbulence (floofinition) – Great agitation or commotion created by an animal’s action or presence.
In use: “All was calm in the backyard, with dogs and cats melting fur puddles in the patio’s shade, until floofbulence ensued after a squirrel entered the yard.”
Her Life
Her life. She had such a life. All centered on her children. Now. Had been different. Career. Charity work. Volunteering at the Guild and the Food Bank, delivering meals to shut-ins, meeting with the garden club and the book club.
All gone with her macular degeneration. Reducing her life to her children. No, her grandchildren. She and her daughter ‘did not get along’. Saw politics differently. Education. Fashion. Manners. Daughter blamed her for – “Whatever,” she usually explained, too limp to delve deeper into words and emotions, too worn to extricate and untangle the relationship to the satisfaction of anyone outside of it.
The grandchildren, though – twins. He, dyslexic. Energetic. Masculine but wary. She, in the forefront. Quick-minded, always watching, pausing to see. Cowboy boots – red – and sparkling tutus. She, ordering him on what to do, when to do it. How. Correcting him. He, obeying, sometimes with frustration, which the girl child – they were only eight, miniature people, perfect little unblemished slender human replicas – soothed with whispers and touches. She could not see their future. That worried her.
Then him. His life. No life. Writing. Living to write. Brooding, apparently writing in his head. Reading. Walking around, sipping coffee, staring at walls, floors, windows, always there but never there. Her son. She could no longer connect with him at all. He was a house that couldn’t be entered. Curtains on the windows. No doors in nor out.
Phone rang with an old-fashioned tinny sound reminding her of the happy times at her grandmother’s home. Her daughter was calling. She didn’t want to answer. Probably about money. Usually was, when she called. She put a smile into her voice. Shook off her weariness. Must not upset the princess lest she cut off access to the grandchildren. But she would not do that, would she?
Not a chance to be taken. “Hello, honey,” she said, fake happiness in her voice, pressing forward with her life.
Tuesday’s Theme Music
The rotations continue, no matter what is done, sunrise, sunfall. 5:46 AM, 8:47 PM in slice of world in southern Oregon. The revolution continues, despite what is done, carrying us through summer, speeding us toward autumn.
Today is Tuesday, July 13, 2021. Wildfires continue catching and growing. Two are contained, five more start. Smoke doesn’t fill the sky but bleaches the blue into a yellow-tinged gray haze. Fine grey granules, almost white, sprinkle cars and the land. Think of how they coat skin. Get into airways. Spread into lungs, interfering with body functions like breathing.
The smoke is a cooling shade, keeping temperatures from rising over one hundred F but unable to keep us from experiencing high nineties heat. Green has been dried out of the grasses. They turn into a sandy shade of brown.
But, you know, good news. COVID-19 vaccinations appear to be helping, where people are allowing themselves to be vaccinated. As disease variants rise, the unvaccinated and vaccinated become positive, but it’s the unvaccinated who are typically hospitalized and dying.
The other good news is that people are shedding their masks, unless they need it to deal with smoke (at least out here in the American west). Stores are opening. Restaurants. Movie theaters. One can again attend movies. Isn’t that good news? And the All-star break is underway. Good news, right? Good news.
While drought spreads in the west, places are flooding in the south and east as hurricanes and tropical storms strike. Did you see the photos of the flooded New York subway and roads? Places are also experiencing power outages. Sometimes from storms, sometimes because power is cut off due to wildfires, sometimes because the wildfires burn power lines. Melbourne, Australia is locked down again but the NFL is looking forward to full stadiums. There’s a water shortage growing in America but a housing boom is underway. The stock market has never been better, and look how that economy seems to be recovering. Also, the Emmy list has been released. That’s good news, isn’t it?
An ad on an Internet page seems it all up for me. Showing a pristine red and white Chevy Corvette from the early sixties, the ad informs me, “Jag EType” (that’s how they put it) “in any condition, nationwide.” While showing a Vette. Makes sense to me.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m an optimist. Hopeful. Hell, I keep grinding away on my writing routine. Must believe some future exists for it. Which brings me to the music.
Here’s the Pretenders from 1986. They do an homage to an old television show, “The Avengers”. My wife and I quite enjoyed that series as children. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, get the vax. Cheers
