Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Infloofgestion (floofinition) – Inability or unwillingness to eat food due to distractions by an animal, or worries and concerns about animal.
In use: “Once Meg returned home after dropping her Beagle off at the vet for surgery, she turned off everything, and sat and stared through the day, unable to eat because of infloofgestion.”
Sunshine kicked the day open at 5:36 AM. Birds immediately entered talking and singing mode, testing new sounds. Cats continued as cats do. People variously leaped up to embrace the day, sighed and forced themselves out of bed, or whispered, “Just a little more sleep, please. Just a little more.” Those are a few of the ways the day’s beginning was addressed. It depended.
Planning was already underway to finish the day. Sunset would be at 8:42 PM. Many people find it easier to finish the day than to start it. For those struggling to get it going, caffeine often helps. Many imbibe it in tea or coffee. Some drink sodas. Adding sugar to the start up process enhances it for more than a few. It also can cause problems. People find that they’d consumed caffeine and sugar to get started. Now, at day’s end, they can’t stop.
Between those minutes when sunrise and sunset were declared, the day lurked. Many northern hemisphere areas have discovered that summer has arrived. Ways to beat the heat are conjured, just as ways to beat the cold were manifested back in the cold, dark months.
Today’s music choice is “Let It Rain” by Eric Clapton and Bonnie Bramlett, a song that came out on Clapton’s debut album to begin his solo career in 1972. Motivated by my preferences and needs, I’m thinking, let it rain, to the universe because my area would swallow fresh rain like a thirsty Steelers fan takes down a beer. After a couple days of high heat, we’d sinking into low heat. Highs are dropping from above 100 F or the upper nineties to the upper eighties. Leaves are turning brown and drying out. Hence my call, “Let it rain.”
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as required, and get the vax. Masks are less and less required here. It’s a slow transformation. We’re like critters poking out heads out. Looking around, we tentatively remove masks. Eye others. Are they still wearing their mask? They vaccinated? The air is sniffed. Seems okay. We’ll see. We’ll see.
Here’s the music. Please enjoy. Cheers.
Floof Tree (floofinition) 1. A diagram of showing an animal’s relationship to other animals, especially blood flooflatives.
In use: “Tracing the family’s floof tree began with Dot, the first small tabby (who turned out to be pregnant), then branches off with Skip (the small orphaned dog the family fostered and Dot mothered), and Billy, the big German Shepherd found at the shelter who came home and immediately started worshipping Dot.”
2. Woody perennial plant or structure where animals like to hang out.
In use: “During summer’s hottest days, the lemon tree’s shade made it a veritable floof tree, as the cats, dogs, and pig all took refuge in its cool shadows.”
Floofgeist (floofinition) – General or prevailing mood among a group of animals.
In use: “Whatever had happened during the day while she was out, Brenda returned to a floofgeist of wary pets, setting her nerves on edge.”
Sun broke in the day at 5:37 AM, kicking the heat up to 71 degrees F. We hit 101 at my house yesterday, and it only dropped to 64 during the night. We expect the high to be a more merciful 96 before the Earth’s rotation moves us away from the sun again at 8:41 PM.
Today is Wednesday, June 2, 2021. We’re almost to the year’s midpoint. As for COVID-19 vaccinations, we’ve passed 54 percent in Oregon for at least one shot. Our neighbors to the north and south, Washington and California, are about the same. Idaho to the east, though, is leveling off at below forty percent. It’s like they’re not even trying.
Today’s music is dream inspired. I joined the blues society in my dream. I thought one of my favorite performances of a song called “Why I Sing the Blues” would be a satisfying theme song. Thanks to technology, we can enjoy this moment. Here’s B.B King, Albert King, Gladys Knight, Etta James, Eric Clapton, Phil Collins, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Billy Ocean, Doctor John, Chaka Khan…and more. What a line-up.
Get the vax, wear a mask as needed, test negative, and stay positive. Enjoy the blues. Cheers
There were so many of us. All there for activities, as in clubs and sports activities. Buildings, fields, tents and canopies provided the settings.
I was there mainly for racquetball. We had a tournament…seven players. I was ranked fourth. Yes, mid-field, but I was having fun. An elderly white man with a laconic voice approached me and told me that he thought he could help me improve. Was I interested?
Absolutely. He started by telling me he would hit a few balls around to see how I reacted and assess my playing level. Only three balls were hit, though. I returned two of them. The first shot pleased me, the second shot was ‘okay’, but the third was horrid. I was thinking that I needed to improve my racquet control but he was like, “Oh, dear, that wasn’t good.” Interruptions kept him from hitting other balls. We needed to leave the court.
So we went outside. Overcast, a blowing wind put me into a sweater and jacket. My instructor hit a ball. It went wildly askew. With others watching, he encouraged me, “Chase it down, chase it down, get it, get.” I ran and ran, trying to get my racquet under the blue ball…and failed.
Oh, he was disappointed. “We have much more work than I thought,” he announced.
Rain began falling. I took that as an excuse to quit, taking off my sweater and jacket, and putting on a raincoat. I was also concerned that my blanket was getting wet, and had to retrieve it. My instructor said that we’d continue later.
I went into the building and joined a group of young people. Many were female. Inquiring what they were there for, they informed me that they were part of the surfboard building club. Did I want to join? They passed around sample materials and sign up sheets. They were trying to think of other uses for surfboard materials and construction techniques. “What about coffins,” I suggested. Half-serious, I said it would make coffins lighter. I decided not to join that group and went on.
Next stop was the blues society, where they were offering lessons in how to play blues guitar. I signed up for that after some conversation. When I did, I discovered that I was already a member but that my dues were in arrears. I needed to pay five extra dollars to be reinstated. They handed me an electronic pad to sign my name and make the payment. As I did, my wife joined me. For some reason, I didn’t want her to know that I was five dollars overdue, so I hastily finished business and led her away.
The activities center was closing down. We were being urged to leave. Someone called something to us. Apparently, it was about my father joining the blues society. “No,” I answered, “he’s suicidal.” My wife repeated that response to the people asking the question.
We went on our way.
The blinds needed to be removed.
This was a requirement to paint around the frames. Somehow in the madness of life, I’ve decided that I need to paint the living and dining rooms. Together, they are, ‘The Great Room’.
Point of order: my wife hectored me into doing it. “These rooms are too dark. We need a lighter color.”
Me: “Huh-huh, you’re right.”
“When can you do it?”
“Wait, what?”
Life sometimes needs a rewind function.
Into the garage! To the tools! My tools are not greatly organized. Shelves hold several power tools and their requirements, along with a large toolbox. It’s augmented by a small thing with a work surface and four drawers. One drawer has lost its front. (I’m going to fix it sometime.) The top drawers are well organized with screws, anchors, glues, nails, sandpiper. The bottom two drawers are stuffed full of whatever I can get in there. I avoid opening them, except to retrieve tape and edger/trimmer string. My tape variety is impressive.
The screws holding the mounting brackets have a Philips-head X on it. They would not budge despite my grunting. “Get a screwdriver with more torque,” I muttered to myself. I already had the biggest. I would use the drill on it, but there’s not enough clearance. Bummer.
Sighing in frustration, I hit the ratchet wrenches. For some reason, I’ve acquired three complete sets. No, there’s more. At least two sets are metric. I bought them because I lived in Germany and Japan. Metric was used there, and I owned foreign cars – BMW, Porsche, Mercedes, Audi, Toyota, Nissan, Mazda, Honda, Toyopet. Plus, at least one set was priced at a dollar at a garage sale. Who can resist tools at a garage sale? They’re like books. You gotta look and see what might fill that imaginary hole in your library or toolbox.
The sockets are semi-disorganized. Most are in their proper places but the smallest sockets always go strolling. I go through them, looking for the 1/4 inch, along with the proper adapter to go from big to small. With all those socket kits, I have a multitude of options for changing spark plugs. Every manufacturer had a different size of socket required. Some had several. I also have a number of tools for setting the gaps on plugs and rotors, and wires for cleaning them.
Which reminded me of computers. Back in the office closet lives a set of shelves. On it resides office requirements like Wite-out, file folders, label maker, pens for the next century (if they don’t dry up), paper for the printer, ink for the same, assorted docks for laptops I no longer use, another printer I no longer use, cables for laptops and printers… You get it, right?
Disk drives also live on these shelves. Floppy 5.25 inch. Hard floppy 3.5 inch. Zip drives. CDs. All are ready to be formatted and written. I have not formatted anything in over a decade, maybe longer. I used to format things several times a week, back in, um, the last century. Strange that something that once was so common is now rare.
Not really. We were riding horses and trolleys more back in the last century, too. I only rode horses a few times for entertainment. Never mounted one to go to the store, or to visit the neighbors.
I don’t change my car’s oil any longer, either, although I have the wrenches for that, too, and the big wrench to remove an oil pan nut. I have baskets of computer and electronic gear. Ribbon wires, chipsets, an old power supply, old fan, along with a huge variety of RCA cords and adapters. There’s an extra monitor, too, and a VHS head cleaner for the VHS deck that I no longer use. I also own bearing grease, quart jugs of motor oil, and car cleaning supplies, like polishes and waxes.
Sometime, someone needs to go in there and clean all this stuff out. Not me, not today.
Time for me to paint.
I was with familiar folks, all male. Outside, we were drinking beer, laughing, enjoying ourselves immensely. In the middle of this, we suddenly embark on a conversation about creation and evolution. Abruptly, it becomes a Socratic style learning session. Information is given; questions are asked. The last question was, “What’s the first part that begins to develop after conception?”
I shouted out, “The brain!”
My friend laughed. “No.”
We then talked about fertilization and conception. Conversation drifted to star dust.
Sitting in shadows, outside on a sunny day, a beer on the table in front of me, I leaned back and held up a finger. On the tip, I thought I saw golden star dust brightly shining.
