We finished puzzle number 6 about twenty-four hours after we began it…almost.
Six pieces are missing.
Six!
It’s an outrage, I tell youse, an outrage.
My wife suggested that we need to pace ourselves. We only have two jigsaw puzzles left.
Puzzle #6 Is Begun
“This will be an easy one,” my wife assures me. On our personal JS (Jigsaw Scale), she thought that “Casablanca” (our last puzzle) was a nine on the JS. (I thought it was a seven, as I’ve seen puzzles with thousands and thousands of pieces, but never mind.) She believes “Cats in the Bag” is a four. We’ll see.
“Cats in the Bag” was loaned to us by a friend. The pieces are large, and have quirky shapes. There aren’t many small pieces. Progress has been swift, so far. Our local cats are showing less interest in this puzzle. Each visited it, but have not stayed.
I think they believe the puzzle is floofcist, continuing a stereotype that cats like bags. Their opinion would hold more water if they weren’t so interested in the bag that the puzzle was in.
Pearl Floof
Pearl Floof (floofinition) – American floof band noted for its flunge style of music and dress, formed in the Floofattle area in 1990.
In use: “Pearl Floof originally called themselves Floof Jam, but when a promoter accidentally called them Pearl Floof (confusing them with the human band, Pearl Jam), the band decided to keep the error as the band’s name.”
Floof Mitzvah
Floof Mitzvah (floofinition) – Animal celebration for coming of age, borrowed from Jewish tradition. Most cats typically celebrate at least nine floof mitzvahs, while dogs and other animals usually only do one.
In use: “Mama cat decided it was time for a floof mitzvah for her five little ones, and began vigorously grooming them for the event.”
A Dream of Cans and Cars
It began with an urge to go check on my car. It was my old Mazda RX7. A cover protected it. I decided to lift the cover up some and start the car.
My old car
Sitting inside, listening to it idle, I decided to take it around the block. I didn’t take the cover off, though. I figured I could peek around it to see. It was almost twilight, and I didn’t think anyone would be out, and I wasn’t going far. All of it was a ludicrous idea; in the dream, the neighborhood was full of narrow alleys. They were barely wide enough for the car if you could see, but I was certain that I couldn’t do it.
Gosh, things didn’t work out. I couldn’t turn the car as expected. Exiting the car, I discovered that I wasn’t even on the road.
I blamed the car, of course. I pulled the cover off, balled it up, and set it aside. Then I decided to change the car. Laying my hands on its fenders, hood, trunk, bumpers, etc., I changed it into a new vehicle.
This was much better. Driving off, I arrived at my destination and sought parking. I had a usual space. It was available, so I parked there. But then I heard a small noise and felt a bump. Getting out of my car, I discovered that a woman in a blue Volvo was trying to squeeze by. She didn’t look at me or my car at all. Her hands had tight grip on the stirring wheel, and she was staring straight ahead.
Well, be a nice guy, I though, move your car so she could get by (even though she was in the wrong). It’s the proper thing to do. I jumped into the car and backed it out of her way. She passed on without a look. “Not even a thanks,” I exclaimed to myself.
My parking spot was now gone. Exasperated, I drove further in. I discovered that I was driving through an upscale clothing boutique. I found a parking space between a rack of clothes. Then I decided, well, I shouldn’t park in the store. Backing out, I drove into the streets, circling until I found new parking.
I was at a cafe. It was dark. Going in, I stepped through from one dimension, where this cafe was dark and quiet, to another, where it was light and bustling. Lousy with customers, my table was free for me. The cafe folk knew me and had my coffee drink and a croissant waiting for me at the table. Happy greetings were exchanged.
A short, dark-haired, white woman at another table had a bag full of canned cat food. Talking to me, she spilled the bag onto the ground. She and I laughed about that, and regaled one another with tales of feeding cats.
She announced, “I have to go.” She left, leaving her cans on the ground. I couldn’t believe that. The cans were “Fancy Feast” and “Friskies”. I decided to collect them for her and give them to her later.
People kicked the cans around, though. Cars drove over a few. I thought, this isn’t right. Collecting the cans in a bag, I went through the cafe. I wanted to return to my dimension but I didn’t want others to see me do it.
I slipped around the corner into a private space. Part of the cafe, it was a windowed hallway. Curtains, floors, and walls were all white. The windows were open, and the curtains were fluttering with a breeze.
I had expected to go through to the other dimension. When that didn’t happen, I blamed the bag of cans. I had to get rid of them to go back, I thought, because they don’t belong to the other dimension, but also thinking, going back means going forward, but I didn’t want to leave the cans behind.
I’d need to find another way.
The dream ended.
Sunday’s Theme Music
Well, from sometime yesterday, out walking in the hills, admiring the sunset’s effects on the northern mountains, came some lines from the Styx song, “The Best of Times” (1981).
The headlines read, “These are the worst of times”
I do believe it’s true
I feel so helpless like a boat against the tide
I wish the summer winds could bring back paradise
Yes, the helplessness and frustration that seems to permeate so much of life sometimes can make it seem like the worse of times. It’s not for me, of course, but stress, and that sense, comes from that lack of control and the inability to steer things, to be able to take action and change the course before we wreck.
I’m sure most of us have experienced it at least once in a lifetime, where we said, “I know where this is going, and you’re not going to like it.” Then it happens, and all the misery you predicted comes to pass and others ask, “Who could have seen this was going to happen?”
Well, hell, many of us do see these things, but we’re ignored. We don’t get used to that; it’s just frustrating.
Then it all passes, and the courses that you thought should have been taken are, and things go great for a while.
No, I’m not a master prognosticator. I just color my memories with the best of times.
Floof-positive
Floof-positive (floofinition) – Something an animal does which definitely shows that something else is true or correct.
In use: “She’d begun by echoing her father, that her cat was just a dumb animal, but each day, opening doors and blinds, or by reacting to her words, showed floof-positive that he was far from dumb, and could be smarter than her.”
Measures
The coronavirus is creeping into our area (Ashland, southern Oregon). A case was confirmed in the county a few days ago. Friends forwarded information to us early Friday morning. Medical professionals, they’re sharing stories from the hospitals.
“…saw 6 cases of bilateral pneumonia in folks 60-80. All had to be
admitted…have NEVER seen 6 cases in one shift.
Absolutely no way to test them for Covid-19. All negative for regular flu.
One woman 60 yr. on Methotrexate. Very sick. (Asante ER)”
Testing kits aren’t available. We’re over sixty years old. My wife suffers RA. She decided to self-isolate and skipped her exercise class at the Family Y. With the chain as it is, that requires me to self-isolate with her.
We’re people who generally stay stocked up on supplies. We have a freezer chest to support our approach, and a pantry. A case of bottled water is kept on hand. We don’t use bottled water; this is for emergencies.
Portions of our philosophy can be ascribed to our parents’ attitudes, but we also went through typhoons and lived in earthquake-prone areas, and now live in a wildfire area. We want to always be prepared. Besides those factors, I’m a guy that always thinks that you should never run out of staples. You know you use it, you see your use rate, buy more before it’s gone, if you have the means and it’s available. Just common sense to me.
An inventory was conducted. Have thirty-six rolls of toilet paper on hand. There are two of us. Don’t need more, thanks. Several boxes of tissues, and cough drops. Enough coffee for about six weeks (yeah, we’re Costco shoppers).
We have personal hygiene products, and no need for more. Cleaning supplies are aplenty. Cheese. Tortillas. Guacamole. Romaine lettuce, onion, carrots, and celery. We also have frozen pizzas with cauliflower crusts on hand from Costco. Frozen blueberries and mangoes. So far, so good.
Lots of pasta (could use some sauce), rice, soup, wine and beer (a few bottles of each), black beans, lentils, bread (several loaves frozen as reserves), peanut butter (three extra large jars on hand), potatoes, jelly, oatmeal, flour, brown sugar, cane sugar.
I ended up buying more fresh fruits and veggies (like potatoes, sweet potatoes, broccoli, asparagus, bananas, pears, spinach, grapes), doughnuts (comfort food) (just a small pack), more frozen fruits for smoothies (my wife makes them for us several times a week), cat food, and eggs. (Seems like we can never have enough cat food on hand.)
Entertainment shouldn’t be an issue. We have the ‘net, broadcast and streaming TV, books, and jigsaw puzzles. We also bought painting supplies for a new project, and have yard work to do.
I can go for walks for exercise, we agreed, as long as I don’t contact others and clean up when I arrive back home.
The stores weren’t bad. I was worried as the parking lot was full. Cars were parked anywhere that was possible. As a man finished putting everything in his car, I made a deal with him; I’ll take his cart back for him, since I required one, and I’ll take his parking space. Yeah, wiped down his cart handles.
Inside the store (local place, Shop n’ Kart) everything was well-stocked. Not many shoppers. I did my thing without issue. All check-out islands were open. A cashier was immediately available. She was using disinfectant on everything.
She told me that I’d just missed the rush. When she’d come into work for the eight AM shift, it’d been a madhouse. My timing was golden.
Back home, we settled down to read the news and talk about new developments.
Here we go, life in the time of COVID-19. Be safe out there.
Saturday’s Theme Music
It was three in the morning, and it was raining, and I was addressing something to do with cats. In that situation, everyone will naturally recall the words to “3AM” by Matchbox Twenty (1997).
I was telling the cat (being an irritant by blocking the pet door) (and looking smug about it) that he was a major irritation, and then told another cat, “It’s three AM and it’s raining, and it’s cold. Are you sure that you want to go out there?” Yes, yes, he had an urgent matter. I let him out, went to bed, tried to recover my dreams, but instead looped “3AM” in my head.
She said, “It’s cold outside” and she hands me a raincoat
She’s always worried about things like that
She said, “It’s all gonna end and it might as well be my fault”
[Refrain]
And she only sleeps when it`s raining
And she screams, and her voice is straining
[Chorus]
And she says, “Baby, it’s three AM, I must be lonely”
And she says, “Baby, well, I can’t help
But be scared of it all sometimes
And the rain’s gonna wash away, I believe this”
[Verse 2]
She’s got a little bit of something, God, it’s better than nothing
And in her color portrait world she believes that she’s got it all
She swears that the moon don’t hang quite as high as it used to
[Refrain]
And she only sleeps when it’s raining
And she screams and her voice is straining
[Chorus]
And she says, “Baby, when it’s three AM I must be lonely”
Well, heaven she says, “Baby, well, I can’t help
But be scared of it all sometimes
And the rain’s gonna wash away, I believe this”
P.S. The cat was back in a few minutes, trying to get in, but some smug boogerfloof was blocking the door.
