“You know that redheads are a genetic mutation that came from Scotland.”
The redhead looked at her younger friend. “Are you calling me a mutant?”
“Yes, I am.”
Flooffee
Flooffee (floofinition) – Coffee or coffee drink imbued with animal fur.
In use: “Her back was turned for just a second but somehow, in that sliver of time, her dry cappuccino was transformed into a flooffee.”
Monday’s Theme Music
Today is Monday, July 12, 2021. The sunblast kicked off at 5:45 AM in the valley. Heat swelling will continue until 97 to 100 degrees F is struck, depending upon where you’re at and if you’re in the shadow of a mountain — or not — until we rotate away at 8:47 PM.
Finished reading “The Kingdom”, a thriller by Jo Nesbo, yesterday. Terrific novel. Kept me guessing about what was going to happen and managed to monopolize my time and energy. Besides, it was hot and smoky outside, with the air moving into the unhealthy zone. Still smoky today. Two wildfires are feeding us smoke, Bootleg (0% contained, 150,000 acres, started July 6) and Jack (11,000 acres, 10% contained).
With heat and fire on my mind, is it any surprise that Pitball started playing “Fireball” (2014) in my head? Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the cotton-picking vax, please. Here’s the music. Feel free to dance. Cheers
Sunday’s Theme Music
Sndy, Sndy. I do like that day.
Today is Sunday, July 11 (7/11), 2021. I remember the first time I ever visited a 7/11 convenience store. I was twelve. One was built along the edges of our housing development. We could walk to it for gum, candy, ice cream bars, whatever. Mom would send me on missions to procure bread, milk, and cigarettes. Salems or Kools. She shifted brands. Walking to the store was our era’s equivalent of surfing the net. Just killing the day.
Today’s daylight began at 5:45 AM and will end at 8:48 PM. Minutes are starting to be shaved off each day. Soon we’ll be heading toward the time change. Then the earth’s trip will move my hemisphere away from the sun’s pleasures. Autumn will drop on us. Winter. We’ll be racing toward the shortest day of sunlight and I’ll be longing for sunshine.
We expect cooler temps today, lows in the lower sixties F, highs around 97 degrees F. No rain in sight. Wildfire smoke soils the blue sky. Two fires east of us by a hundred miles feeds the smoke. Watch your time outside as the air quality slides down the scale into the unhealthy zone.
My brain has opened the day with Don Henley singing “Dirty Laundry” from 1982. The morning music began first with “Those Shoes” by The Eagles. Thinking about that album (The Long Run) took me onto a memory path where I visited with my wife’s family and her sister’s husband. We both enjoy rock, although he, a Vietnam vet and Purple Heart recipient, doesn’t deviate from a narrow definition of what should be heard. He despised disco with a deep passion. Did appreciate soul, R&B, and blues, but had no use for country or rap. He really enjoyed “Dirty Laundry”. And here we are.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask when needed, and get the vax. Here’s the music. Cheers
The Blemish Dream
Big, building. Warehouse or hanger. Don’t know. Not specified. Lot of other folks. Most are young or middle-aged. I’m young, late twenties. I’m working on a computer. Requires me to press F3 to enter data. I’m doing it, happily. Others are gathering. Most are strangers who introduce themselves to me. Many attractive young women. They take an interest in me.
Something is spilled on my shirt. No problem, I’ll change it. I take that one off to go find another one. A middle-aged woman interrupts me. She’s talking about mentoring me. I’m pleased. Two young women, crushing on me, come and sit by me. They’re very flirtatious. I enjoy the attention. Then, something subtly changes. They suddenly withdraw a little. I don’t know why.
A man my age comes along. He takes me aside. “Dude, you have a large blemish on your back.”
“I do?” I reach back, trying to feel it, twist around, stupidly attempting to see it. “Where is it? What is it?”
“I can show you. Come on.”
We walk. He’s talking as we go, trying to explain what the blemish is and where. I’m thinking, inflamed pimple or black head. He’s telling me, no, it’s not quite like that. Than what is it?
Others intercept us. He’s taken away for a moment but says he’ll be right back. Meanwhile, the mentor woman comes up. “You have a blemish on your back,” she says. “You need to put a shirt on and cover that up. It’s a distraction.”
Okay, but I want to know more about the blemish. “I can show you,” she answers.
We go off together to look. But then we’re separated. I turn around and she’s not there.
I decide that I need to pee. I head for the bathroom. It’s a cluttered place with a guard at the door. A friend is behind me. He tells me that I have a blemish on my back. I should put a shirt on. I answer, yes, I know. Head in to pee.
The ‘bathroom’ doesn’t resemble anything like a bathroom. Completely cluttered with junk. Looking around, I ask, “Where is the toilet?” I really need to pee by now. Finding a drain, I piss into it. Screw it. Like it’ll make a difference in that place.
I leave to go back to entering data. Two more friends approach and mention the blemish on my back, making it a total of five who mentioned it. The mentoring woman gathers us. As everyone goes to her, I slip off and find an oversized black tee-shirt. It’s been in my wardrobe but I’ve worn it. It a souvenir from somewhere, with writing on the front.
The mentoring woman tells the gathering to go to another area. I help lead the way because I understand where she indicated. We’re directed to a corner. I recognize it as the ‘bathroom’ location. That confuses me, but yes, the same guard is within, validating our identity and letting us pass. I’m surprised as anything. We’re going into the bathroom?
But, yes. In the bathroom is a tube with a ladder. We climb it and find ourselves in a dining hall of picnic tables. I find a table and sit. Another young woman comes over and asks if she can sit with me. The other two young woman witness this. They look jealous as the newcomer sits with me. She’s very touchy, patting my hand, my shoulder, letting her hand linger on me. Another woman joins me on my other side and starts flirting with me. I’m amused to be the center of so much attention, and a little uncomfortable.
The dream ends.
