Tuesday’s Theme Music

Up and out early, I caught the sun’s first flush spreading over the snowy mountains on the valley’s other side as the sky gained blues and lost its darkness. Every night has its dawn, went through my head, which brought on Bret Michaels of Poison singing, “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” (1988). It’s a mellow song for a metal band, but a nice sound for contemplating winter, 2020.

Stay positive. Test negative. Wear a mask.

Jimmy Floofett

Jimmy Floofett (floofinition) – Floofmerican singer, songwriter, and musician. Originally from Misfloofsippi, Floofett became known for a blend of country and flock (floof rock) celebrating a laidback island sound. His legions of fans are referred to as Floofheads.

In use: “One of Jimmy Floofett’s best known songs is “Cheeseburger On Your Plate”, where he sings about stealing food from people’s plate, focusing on cheeseburgers with lines such as, ‘Cheeseburger on your plate, I haz to have it, I can’t wait, for your cheeseburger on your plate.'”

Refloofcussion

Refloofcussion (floofinition) – An animal’s response or reciprocal effect or action to others’ behavior.

In use: “With many cats, scratching their heads around their ears will earn a refloofcussion such as purring, but trying to rub their bellies might win more ominous refloofcussions, like a quick nip.”

Next Year

Picked up some library books the other say. The library set up is working for this lockdown era: go online, put a book on hold on my account. They send an email when it’s ready. I have a window before it’ll be put back on the shelf, giving me time to plan when I’ll go down there to pick it up.

I go several times a month. There’s a table set up outside, under a canopy, Saturday through Thursday, noon to four. Tape is used as markers to indicate the traffic flow and safe distances. Patrons line up six feet apart. The librarian comes out. We’re all masked. You give your name; the librarian goes inside and return with your books. Your account number is verified verbally via the last three numbers. They give you your books and you go on your way.

As part of the process, a slip of paper with the book’s title and its return date is printed. On that little slip are also two little financial gems. One states how much money you’ve saved yourself by borrowing from the library. The other tells how much you’ve saved this year.

The first is $26 on my slip of paper today. That was for two books. Both are hardcovers. Neither were published this year. I suspect I could get them for less than twenty-six dollars used.

The second number is $660. That’s how much I saved this year, they said.

Well, I don’t know about that. I pay a little in taxes each year for this. It was a bond issue for the county library system, and it’s part of my annual property taxes. I don’t think they take those taxes into account when they tell me how much I’ve saved.

But I like the system. I’m a writer. I’d like people to buy and read my books. It’s great that the library system pays books to fulfill that for writers. I hope my books end up in the library some day. It’s also an excellentway to save on trees, innit? Buy a book and let multitudes read it.

All that led to ebooks. These books were available to be borrowed as ebooks. ebooks do even more to save trees, although we then get into the sticky situation of electronic waste.

I don’t do much ebooking; I like the personal heft of the thick books in hand as I carry them around and read in various postures. I know I’m silly and sentimental that way. I could use ebooks and save more trees. Yet, I resist.

I blame blue light for some of that resistance. I watch television (so cut down, you reply) while I’m running in place (oh, you answer, that’s a little different) or using the Stairmaster as part of my exercise. I’m not good at reading while walking (though I’m trying). I also spend a lot of time on the ‘puter reading news (so cut down, you suggest) (I probably should, I answer, as not much of the damn news is good for my spirit), writing, and editing. I don’t want to add the strain of reading ebooks to the strain I already thrust on my eyes.

Nothing is as clear cut as it first appears any longer, whether it’s environmental impact, saving money, or selling books. Our lives are choices, decisions, and compromises. I could, instead of running in place or exercising while watching television just curl up with a book. I could, instead of using a hefty volume, make it an ebook and reduce other strain on my eyes. Or I can go to audio books —

Yeah, don’t even go there. I am a fan of audio books; I’ve used them when driving long distances, and I’ve used them while exercising. I’ve found, though, I prefer the inner voice that I create when I’m reading something.

So, I’ve thought about these things. I recognize some of my habits are comfort ruts. Comfort ruts can be pretty useful in periods of stress, such as, say, a global pandemic. Then again, it may be that I’m just too lazy to change, modifying that ‘too lazy’ to ‘too old and set’.

This is just one facet of existence. These same sort of exercises go on with other things as we live, from medicines to using plastics to cars to public transportation to fossil fuels to recycling to GMOs to organic food to nutrition to healthcare to eating healthy to money to politics to welfare to taxes to social security to war to equality to fashion to music to film to being healthy to relaxing to having fun to —

Well, that point is hammered in. Life is a busy process of constantly re-balancing all these choices. I wonder what’ll it be like in another hundred years.

Strike that: let’s just see what it’s like next year.

Monday’s Theme Music

Miserable night for sky watching yester-evening. Clouds forever. But I was out there with my star finder anyway. I was looking for Jupiter-Saturn but was certain that I was out at the wrong time and that it was below the horizon. I mean, I’ve been tracking it for weeks going on months. Also, I spotted it the other morning while we were out on an early morning shopping mission for baking supplies, so I had a strong sense of its pattern. I was pleased to see it that morning. It was so wonderfully sharp and bright.

Anyway, I was enjoying last night’s nine PM silence. With lockdown, there’s little road traffic. The Depeche Mode song, “Enjoy the Silence” rose to mind. “Words are very unnecessary.” Yeah, I like the silence but I need the words in my head. Writing can be a challenge. Seeing a scene, hearing dialogue, even hearing thoughts and feeling emotions, you know what is to happen. The whole package is there. But the words must be presented to share it with a reader on paper. Those words that I put down are sometimes so banal and awkward, it makes for a teeth-grinding experience.

But the 1990 Depeche Mode song can work for today’s music. For one, Donald Trump has been quiet and out of sight, sulking, grieving his election loss, abandoning his duties in general. He’d never taken them seriously, anyway, always blustering about his greatness while his minions ran wild, de-regulating all that they could and milking opportunities to further empower the wealthy.

Ugh, don’t want to go down that road this early. Enjoy the music. Stay positive (yeah, like that’s so easy), test negative, wear a mask, and get vaccinated. Cheers

UBFloofy

UBFloofy (floofinition) – Flooflish reggae floof band. Established in 1978 in Floofhingham, the band is credited with numerous hits and awards, and have an international fan following.

In use: “One of UBFloofy’s early hit songs, “Red Red Floof”, a cover of the Floof Diamond song, reached number one for the band in Floofnited Kingdom.”

Quick Paw

Quick Paw (floofinition) – 1. Trick taught among animals. Along with Stealth Paw and Quick Bite, one of the preferred methodologies for stealing food.

In use: “The old dog quietly took the new puppy into his floofidence and showed him the Quick Paw, stealing a sandwich off a plate and making his escape before it was noticed.”

2. Legendary cat known for her fast slashing and ability to steal objects, especially food, in less than an eyeblink.

In use: “Some say that Quick Paw is but a myth, but others look around, see their food missing, and wonder.”

Sunday Sprinkles

  1. Had an unsettling dream last night. Not a nightmare, but a dream that I didn’t understand. After writing about it, I decided not to share it.
  2. I watch the NFL. The refs fascinate me. Some of them seem like they’re so disappointed when they announce penalties. “False start, offense, number forty-three.” You can almost see him sigh. “Five year penalty,” is delivered with regret. “Remains first down.” I wonder what they’re like in their non-football lives.
  3. I said, “Don’t fear the android.” I was making a joke while re-watching Dark Matters on Netflix. My wife said, “Oh, that’d be a good book title.” It has me thinking.
  4. Several of my wife’s friends encountered her this past week. Always masked and distanced. They emailed her later. One said that she started crying in her car afterward because it’d been so long since she’d enjoyed a friendly, spontaneous conversation with someone outside their pod. Another said that she teared up after dropping off holiday goods on the porch (and picking some up from us, which were awaiting her on the porch). Human contact is so random and remote.
  5. My cancer-inflicted friend is out of the hospital and back home. Friends are calling him to wish him well. I want to do so but I’m terrible with small talk. Not good with the phone. Terrible with socializing in general. He stays in my thoughts but I should call. I’m probably overthinking it.
  6. Likewise, the cancer-affected friend across country is out of the hospital and at home, going through treatment there. We exchange messages but I sense his energy is low. He was always such an upbeat, energetic person. He’s my age, too, which amplifies the impact, right?
  7. It is interesting, maddening, and shocking to witness what friends are doing in other parts of the country. Social distancing and masking isn’t part of their routines. Some have even gone in for elective surgery. One is dating. We respond, WTF? And we worry about them, but they remain blissfully ignorant. Come on, vaccine.
  8. Meanwhile, two other relatives have been diagnosed with COVID-19. One was intubated on Friday. She’d gone in for elective surgery on a toe earlier in the month.
  9. My broken left arm continues its recovery process. It sort of becomes entangled and stiff at night as I bend it under my body. But reach, movement, flexibility, and strength are all improving. One frustrating thing: scratching. I still can’t bend my left hand to scratch my back and several other (ahem) places.
  10. My wife didn’t make us a soup last Sunday, the first time in weeks. Holiday baking occupied her — and the kitchen. I did my part; my role is decorating. I was disappointed with the gels and frosting. It blobbed and sputtered. They were okay, but not great. That’s about half of the batch. They’re PB Rice Krispies bars dipped in white chocolate or chocolate bark, more like a candy bar than a cookie. (That’s them in the photo.) She also made peppermint cookies and my favorite, cranberry cupcakes with drizzled frosting. Today’s soup in progress is a smoky lentil with garbanzo beans. Chilly day, in the forties, diluted sunshine. Looking forward to it with some hot buttered ciabatta bread.
  11. I thought writing was going well. Then I read a paragraph last night which had me wincing, groaning, and gagging. Press on, finish the draft, then come back, right? Yeah. Got my coffee. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time. Oh, yeah, and the soup is ready.

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