Category: Cat

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Adieu to August. Hello, September! So many September songs dive straight into the mental music stream. Amazing.

Yes, this is September 1, 2021. 9/1/21. Wednesday. Hump Day. Some interesting holidays are observed on this date.

  • Building and Code Staff Appreciation Day 
  • Chicken Boy Day 
  • Emma M. Nutt Day 
  • Ginger Cat Appreciation Day 
  • Global Talent Acquisition Day – September 1, 2021 (First Wednesday in September)
  • National Cherry Popover Day 
  • National No Rhyme Nor Reason Day 
  • National Tofu Day (UK) 
  • Pink Cadillac Day 
  • Save Japan’s Dolphins Day 
  • Toy Tips Executive Toy Test Day 
  • World Letter Writing Day 

Each one has a story. Like Chicken Boy Day. How did that get started? Ginger Cat Appreciation Day. I do have a ginger cat. Papi, aka Meep, aka Youngblood and the Ginger Blade. I will show him my appreciation. It’s not a choice. He demands it. I willingly surrender.

Sunrise overtook us at 6:36 AM. Sun fade will be at 7:43 PM. Our smoke is back and blah, blah, blah, it sucks. High temperatures will be in the low 80s so a cooler day again, if only we had the air to go out and safely breathe.

The musical mental stream kicked things off this morning with Doris Day singing “Sentimental Journey”. Listened to Bob Dylan’s cover of it. It’s just too mellow for me this September AM, ya know? I wanted something head thrashing. My mind responded with, stop wasting my time. Words which naturally flowed into the song by Default, “Wasting My Time” (2001). No, not head thrashing, but it’ll do. (Did anyone else channel a little of Babe there, and say, “That’ll do, pig. That’ll do.”? No? Hmmm.)

Stay positive. Test negative. Wear a mask as needed, like when it’s smoky as hell or you’re in contact with others outside of your house, like in a store. Get the vax. And be safe. Here’s the music. I’m gonna go get more coffee. Cheers

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Slippage

  1. Slippage in my personal use is about losing track. Time. Lists. Progress.
  2. Slippage is heavy when I’m writing. Clocks disappear from my LOS when I don the writing hat. I’m in that other world. Following characters. Contact tracing cause and effect. Studying dialogue. Typing, typing, typing, typing. Surprise overcomes me when I discover that I’ve been at it for an hour or two. My ass is sore. Numb. Coffee gone or cold. I’m hungry. Writing usurps everything. I feel satisfied when I’m done. And starving to do more. But other matters call.
  3. Because I have lists. Tasks. Chores. Necessary Actions for Modern Life. Balancing accounts. Paying bills. Buying food. Cleaning litter boxes. Talking to people. Socializing. It’s all so draining. Give me the damn keyboard and leave me alone.
  4. I tend to avoid writing long posts for these reasons. Keep it short and simple. Use energy for longer stuff for my writing projects.
  5. I feel like I’m suffering from low energy. Might have to do with the smoky situation outside. I peer outside the window and catch the sunshine and blue sky and become happy. Look forward to a walk. An hour later, the smoke has closed its tentacles on the street. Blizzard-like visibility develops. Step outside. Smell the stench. Feel the nostrils sting. The sinus headache begins. Eyes dry out. Energy fizzles. Spirit implodes.
  6. Could also have to do with COVID-19. We — our county — is one of the nation’s hotspots. As prominent anti-vaxxers and mask deniers sicken and die with COVID-19, my county’s citizens continue protesting. Masks are not effective, they claim. COVID-19 is not serious in their estimation. The vaccine can’t be trusted. These positions make going to the stores or anywhere else a daunting effort. We mask. Others don’t. Stores don’t enforce masks. They know they’re impotent against the unmasks’ illogical, contrarian positions. Wearying is an understatement.
  7. Beyond writing, struggling to do the things expected to keep the house and body clean and neat, and the modern demands of being responsible, I spend time reading. Finished Klara and the Sun (Kazuo Ishiguro) last week. I really enjoyed it. Loved the simplicity. The straightforward minimalism. Handed it off to my wife. She took it up and gave me the book she’d finished: The Mirror & The Light (Hilary Mantel). The styles between the books are so different. As are the stories being told. One is futuristic, science fiction. The other is historical fiction. Each are greatly entertaining. My wife wasn’t as fond of Klara as I was. Too much minimalism for her.
  8. Reading The Mirror & The Light keeps calling me back to C.J. Sansom and his Mathew Shardlake series. Not surprising in retrospect. Both cover the same English period from similar points of view. In many ways, it’s just like picking up two books of any other genre and reading and comparing them. Of course, that’s one reason why I like Lincoln in the Bardo so much or The Underground Railroad. Hard to find books that compare favorably with them. Likewise, how Louise Erdrich is able to tell stories with elegant prose and yet be gritty always amazes me. For crazy story-telling along the lines of ‘look-what-you-can-get-away-with’, I look to Lincoln & Childs and their Pendergast series.
  9. I’m also an information junkie. We subscribe to the NY Times and several other online periodicals. I must always be aware of time while pursuing information. It isn’t enough to just read their articles; no, I must find other opinions and sources to vet what’s being put out there. Then, of course, there are a dozen bloggers who I enjoy following. Always must track them and their latest.
  10. I have three cats. All ‘rescues’ or strays. Came to me for a visit and stayed for a life. Tried finding their people. In one case, Papi (our ginger tabby), we knew who the owners were. They left him behind when they moved. Deliberately. Cocksuckers.
  11. Boo, though, is problematic. Don’t know what went on in his past but it left mental and emotional scarring. Arthritis affects him. PTSD, too. Anything new – smell, sound, visitors, anything – sends him into a frenzy. He snarls and hisses at our other cats. His coat is matted. Embarrassing. Sure it’s not comfortable nor healthy for him. But we’ve only reached the point that he can be petted without hissing or snapping at us. Slowly introducing him to a brush. S-L-O-W-L-Y. Yet, he seeks me out. Sleeps against me. Comes to me for attention and food. Sleeps at my feet when I’m at my desk writing.
  12. TC — Tucker Cat — meanwhile has matured wonderfully. Went from battling with Boo to gracefully indulging his needs. Walks around him without disturbing him. He, too, sleeps with me. Loves it when I sit down to read. Is beside my laptop now as I type. Where he frequently is during the day.
  13. On my list of things to do is call my parents. They are divorced. Dad is remarried. Mom has a live-in fiancé . One lives in Pennsylvania. The other is in Texas. Both are retired with health issues. I worry about them constantly. They take appropriate precautions but still. You know, right? Yeah, you get it.
  14. My wife’s health also worries me. She’s suffered from RA for over twenty years. Wasn’t originally diagnosed, of course. No, that required over a decade of treatments, blood tests, imaging, and doctor visits. She loves exercising and dancing. She’s suffering a flare that’s truncated her ability to do those things. It also gives her foggy brain. She struggles to remember. Spell. Abstract concepts give her problems. So dismaying watching her decline. She’s more social than me. Since she can’t go out per usual (RA, smoke, COVID-19), I’m her conversation partner. I’m not particularly interested in socializing and conversing. Particularly when I’m writing. She’s become fond of Reddit streams such as Am I the Asshole and Facepalm. Feels compelled to share them with me. She’s also almost obsessive about local COVID-19 news and trends and must share them as well.
  15. Circumstances have curtailed my walking routines. Had a long streak of averaging 11.3 miles per day. I woas driving toward twelve. Then COVID. Then, smoke. I sometimes mask and go for a walk but always preferred walking when I had concrete destinations. Coffee shops to write was my standard. I do miss those days. My average has declined to nine miles per day. Most of it is running in place in the house, which just is not as entertaining.
  16. Enough of a break. Time to return to writing like crazy. But first, another cup of coffee, please. Black, of course. Cheers
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Floofson

Floofson (floofinition) – Male offspring of an animal.

In use: “Marty’s floofsons were perfect little replicas of him, black with white whiskers, a white diamond on their chests, and a long narrow tail.”

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Powerful sunshine kicked in the day. I blinked against the golden warmth. “Sol. What time is it?”

“Time to raise your derriere from the dead.”

“Seriously, time.”

“Time to rise and — “

“Sol, it’s too early.”

“6:32 AM.” Sol sat, flipping rays back from his face. “It’s also Saturday, August 28, 2021, if that matters to you, the last Saturday in August.” Sol sighed. “September is next week, you know. Soon, I’ll be a wintry sun, mourning the cold land from a sad distance.”

“Not everywhere. Just up in the northern climes.”

“True.” Sol sniffed. “An advantage of being omnipresent. I’m always somewhere. Got any coffee?”

“I’ll make some.”

My slumber ended, I peed first, then shuffled into the kitchen. Cats greeted me, falling into step. The necessary feeding detour was executed. “How long are you here today, Sol?” I asked the sun as he joined me in the kitchen.

“Until 7:52 in the evening, thereabouts.” Sol perched himself on the counter. “And I’m in a hot mood. Think it’ll be ninety-five to a hundred today.”

“Ouch.”

Sol watched the coffee making. “Make it strong. I like it strong.”

“Of course.”

“I am the sun, you know.”

“Right, right, got that.”

Sol and I began channeling David Bowie music, falling back into some of his early seventies stuff as coffee brewed, basically working through a compilation album with “Diamond Dogs”, “Rebel, Rebel”, “Space Oddity”, “Changes”, and “Suffragette City”. By the time we finished our first cuppa, we were belting out “The Jean Genie”. Sol and I agreed that should be today’s theme music.

As Sol told me, stay positive — “Like me, I’m always sunny, hah!” — test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Floofpetitive

Floofpetitive (floofinition) – 1. Action or activity persistently completed for an animal, especially a pet.

In use: “His floofpetitive routine began every morning with fresh water — two bowls — followed by the feeding of the three feline princes, and then the daily morning love session (each demanded private personal time to be petted and doted upon), and the litter box cleaning. The routine was done again in the evening.”

2. An activity or motion repeated many times by an animal.

In use: “Whenever Pam sat down, her cat jumped up on her lap and commenced floofpetitive grooming of her face and hair, often employing her paws to hold Pam’s head still.”

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Exflooftrate

Exflooftrate (floofinition) – 1. To remove oneself from an animal with stealth.

In use: “Many people fall asleep and awaken to find a favorite pet asleep with them, looking as sweet as fresh cinnamon rolls, forcing them to exflooftrate themselves so as not to disturb their slumbering fur friend.”

2. To covertly or surreptitiously move an animal, preferably without disturbing them.

In use: “The sick dog was asleep on the floor. She exflooftrated her canine friend to the bed, where a heating pad would help warm his tired, old body.”

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Welcome to As The Planet Turns. Today is August 26. 2021. Thursday. Cats are fed. One sleeps. Two others wash and supervise human activities. Breakfast is et. Coffee is brewed. Sunrise was at 6:30 AM. Sunset is planned for 7:55 PM. It’s about 62 F now. We expect a high of 81 to 84 F.

Blue skies are out there! Huzzah! Smoke has finally dissipated. Happened last night. I crept out, blinking at the sun, mask in hand, sniffing for smoke. A wind blew The sun was visible! And white and hot instead of orange or red. Windows were opened. Fresh air flowed. Well, sort of fresh. Fresher than it had been in weeks.

Today, even better, at the moment. Air quality hovers in the low sixties! We can see the mountains. But, yes, smoke is starting to screen the scene. Windows are open now but we’ll remain vigilant.

Vigilant is today’s key word for COVID-19 efforts. We’re back to masking outdoors in Oregon as of tomorrow, along with indoors. Had to be done. Hospitals are full. The crises grows like a mushroom cloud over a nuke. Too many are dissing the vax. Refusing to do it because…take your raison de jour. Religion. Philosophy. Politics. Ignorance. Freedom. Whichever it is, the majority who end up sick eventually flip. They wish they had received the vax and regret past actions. They were wrong, they’ll tell you. Too late for them. They’re hoping to save other anti-vaxxers.

The numbers tell it all. 10,000 unvaccinated, 500 will die. Along the way, ICUs and hospital beds will fill. The economy takes a hit because workers and customers are sick. Healthcare workers are exhausted.

With vaccinations, the infection rate falls. So does the death rate. Try .0046%. Which means, with vaccinations, one in 434,000 dies. Much different isn’t it?

“Murder by Numbers” comes to mind today. The 1983 song by The Police has lyrics by Sting, music by Copeland.

Now you can join the ranks of the illustrious
In history’s great dark hall of fame
All our greatest killers were industrious
At least the ones that we all know by name
But you can reach the top of your profession
If you become the leader of the land
For murder is the sport of the elected
And you don’t need
To lift a finger of your hand

h/t to Genius.com

That’s what I think of the governors in several states such as Texas, Florida, and North Dakota, along with other leaders who shout, “No mask! No vax!” These aren’t leaders. They are murderers.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Sternflooftation

Sternflooftation (floofinition) – 1. Act of talking firmly or verbally disciplining an animal, especially a pet.

In use: “Despite Becky’s daily sternflooftation before she left for work, the cat and dog always got in trouble while she was away, creating mayhem in a bathroom, bedroom, or living room.”

2. An especially solemn or serious display by an animal.

In use: “After she pretended to throw the toy for the kittens, the three tabbies sat down in coordinated sternflooftation to stare at her.”

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