Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Idiot Floofvant (floofinition) – Person who is highly knowledgeable about one animal or species but knows little about other animals or species.
In use: “Having lived with thirteen cats over the last five decades (and friends with a dozen more), Michael acknowledged he’s an idiot floofvant who knows cats and that’s it.”
Papers, please. We need to check you papers. Don’t you know? It’s Sunday, June 11, 2023. We need to check your papers and see if you’re on the right date and have the correct authorizations for being on this date. You know how it is. You start on one day, then, without any fault on your part, you’re on another. Confusion sets in, forcing you to ask others, “What day is it? What’s the date?” I have a calendar on my way to keep me straight. My computer also shows the day and date. As does my Fitbit. And phone. So I can crosscheck what they claim. I mean, machines, am I right?
Sprimmer is still on tap in Ashlandia. Moody clouds of different sorts and backgrounds. Some block the sun, then the sun re-asserts itself and throws down a hearty blaze. 61 F now, we anticipate highs in the mid 80s. We’re rolling on toward that longest day in the northern hemi, the once called summer solstice. Longest in theory, in general, on average. Our longest day in Ashlandia generally takes places a few days after the ‘official’ date. I suppose it’s because we’re a little rural, and it takes time for news to reach us. Yes, even with computers.
Papi was lounging out by our front porch yesterday in the early evening. I heard people talking through the open window so I looked out. Women walking by had stopped to speak with Papi and admire him. Papi eyed them like an imminent threat. He’s not one for flirting with strangers. I’m about the only one he’s consistently warm with. My wife tries and Papi tries to let her, but the results are uneven.
Had it been the late Quinn, he would have dashed right out there, offering himself up. He was the friendliest and sweetest floof I’ve ever had. The late Boo would have bolted away as soon as he heard them coming. They would have seen him. Scheckter would’ve talked to them but not allow an approach. Most of the rest would have just shrugged them off. As Tucker did later, when he’d joined Papi on the front porch and the women came back down the street. He was completely indifferent to them.
The Neurons have installed “Wondrous Stories” by Yes from 1977 in my morning mental music stream. Started last night when I was watching telly. Had been reading, writing before that, with yardwork and housework mixed in. At that point I was thinking about stories and the book I’d just finished reading. Eventually, I just realizing that “Wondrous Stories” was playing in my head. A mellow tune, has sort of a renaissance sound, not unusual for Yes.
Stay pos. Enjoy your weather wherever you are. By the way, it’s Father’s Day in the U.S. I sent Dad a card and will call him later. He’s in San Antonio, Texas, so I need to adjust for his time and schedule when I make the call. They’re always out at this time. So, first, coffee. Here’s the music. Cheers
My wife, SIL, and I needed to take a trip. I procured a car for us, paying cash for it. It just happens that it looked just like the 1968 Camaro RS I owned in RL in 1975, complete with stripes and black vinyl top, a fun, reliable, and sporty car. In the dream, I didn’t know that it was like my Camaro of my youth because we were youths.
I don’t know why we were traveling by car, other than going from point A to B. Tucker, a current RL cat, was traveling with us. My SIL and I took turns driving, although I did most of it. At one point while I was driving, I suddenly couldn’t control the speed. I was telling them that in the car as I tried braking, kicking the accelerator, and then trying to take the car, an automatic, out of gear, attempting to put it into neutral. When I couldn’t move the center console shifter, I concluded, “I think we’ve lost the transmission.”
I managed to get the car stopped. We got out to talk and stretch our legs. My wife was inattentive and left the car door open. Tucker immediately leaped out. I caught him and then scolded her for leaving the door open and letting Tucker out. She dismissed me and what had happened, which irked me. We decided to go on. I thought for a moment that she was going to drive, which I didn’t want for some reason. I then drove again.
We arrived at a hotel and in a dream blink, we were checked in and up in our room. I think it was in Chicago. It was a large, lavish suite, which included a butler of sorts who was also pressing us to eat or drink, telling us each time, “It’s free.” I didn’t think it was free, but included in the room. At one point, we discussed going out to dinner. The butler started making suggestions about where to go. My SIL was reading about our room during the conversation and asked, “Do you know what floor we’re on?” As my wife replied, “No,” SIL said, “We’re on the 668th floor.”
I went over to the huge windows and looked out. Seeing how high we were, I gasped. “Wow. Why are we so high?”
Dream end.
Today is June 10, 2023, a Saturday in this reality. Blame Pope Gregory XIII and the Gregorian calendar for that one. Although, since he’s just behind a mod for leap years and based his calendar on the Julian calendar, you can extend blame to Julius Ceasar. Of course, the seven-day week can be traced to the Babylonians even further back but diēs Sāturnī comes back to the Romans, although the Germans take some blame for popularizing and standardizing the name. Really, let’s just throw it on all the ancients and go from there.
We’re into summing, the season that follows sprimmer just before summer. Whereas sprummer is primarily springish with summery accents, sprimmer is summery with springish accents. It’s a subtle thing, a difference in blowing winds, overall temperatures, and expectations. 67 F and sunny now, with long, hazy white clouds drifting like a navy armada across the sky, Ashlandia is expecting a high somewhere in the low 80s today, with no rain or thunderstorms being mentioned in anyone’s forecast.
Oh, but the housefloofs, Papi and Tucker, are delighted with sprimmer. Both leave via the pet door at night, coming and going a bit until Tucker plants himself in front of said door and sleeps. That curtails Papi’s activity until he goads me awake with repeated beating on the slider’s screen door. Oh, that Tucker. That passive-aggressive Tucker.
When they’re out in the day, they’re asleep. I enjoy checking on them in their secret locations. Tucker haunts the front porch almost exclusively. He moves around according to temperatures and sunshine. He’ll often be found half in sun, half in shadow. Papi moves around. One favorite spot is on the house’s side under the dining room’s bay window, among the vinca, but morning finds him under the hawthorn in the back, below the center living room window. Other times of day, he’ll relocate to the front porch or the bushes under the office window.
Today’s music is “(Don’t Fear) The Reaper” by Blue Oyster Cult, 1976. I quite enjoy the song, with its layering of guitars and vocals and the intriguing lyrics and the story being told. But The Neurons planted it into today’s morning mental music stream because in a dream last night, I told another person, “Don’t fear the reaper.” Unlike several other dreams, that’s almost all which is recalled from that dream, but it was an astonishing moment.
Stay pos and enjoy your diēs Sāturnī . I think I’ll start with a beverage. Coffee, perhaps. Yes, coffee. Okay, ready. One, two, three, go. Here’s the music. Cheers
Ecfloofsiastical (floofinition) – Of or relating to animals.
In use: “Although laws protecting animals have been established for several decades, the net has been a catalyst for more ecfloofsiastical laws, with growing insistence that these laws also be staunchly enforced.”
Summer’s prelude to summer in Ashlandia has settled into a new weather routine. Blue sky. Plentiful sunshine. Cool, 50s to 60s F, in the morning. Rising to high 70s, low 80s by mid-afternoon. Roll in some clouds. Cue the thunder. Spark some lightning. Now, turn on the rain. Repeat for a few hours.
This is Thursday, June 8, 2023. Yesterday afternoon and evening on the storms squatting on Ashlandia. The climax was a twenty minute deluge of big drops, dense, falling fast and hard. What’s striking about all this lightning (couldn’t resist), thunder, and rain is that it’s so rare for Ashlandia, especially of this intensity, duration, and repetition. But it’s been a growing trend in the last several years. It could be part of a larger cycle and we all just don’t live long enough to experience it, so it strikes us as odd. But it’s also a continuation of an odd weather year.
The cats aren’t pleased. The weather even brought Tucker in, who is usually indifferent to these things. Papi, though, decided the best place to be was with us in a lit room, awakening, waiting, ready to run, and willing to be comforted. Tucker decided that he’d be wherever Papi was.
We’re seeing a lot of deer on our street this week. Two bucks strolling up the street the other evening. Three or four deer — or maybe the same few again and again — wandering around our house and across the street at the neighbors. Well, no recent cougar sightings in our vicinity, so maybe that has something to do with it.
I stood in the front doorway last night, protected by the porch, to watch the rain. Not just watch, but breathe in the fresh petrichor, and enjoy the sounds. Lightning frequently flashed to enliven the experience. As I stood there, The Neurons fired up a 1981 song by The Rolling Stones, “Waiting On A Friend”. Song is still in the morning mental music stream. The Neurons made a good choice. The storm broke me out of my normal routines. The smells and sounds also made me nostalgic for similar times experienced around the world from different phases of life where I was waiting for a friend to arrive as part of our plans to go off somewhere.
Stay positive, and enjoy Thursday as only you can. I have coffee, so I’m pleased for the moment, sipping hot brew, windows breathing in cool air on my back, sunshine slinking around the house, cats wandering in and out to give news updates. Here’s the tune. Love the video’s end, when the band gets up to play in that tiny, tiny space. Cheers
Dreamed about a cougar last night. Yes, it was a gorgeous creature, full grown with impressive fangs, and not an older woman out to seduce me.
I was visiting family, and sometimes the four seemed like RL family. But my dream mind played tricks, shuffling different people in and out, disheveling my thoughts.
The four were in a small and crowded apartment. Wearing a harness and chain, the cougar was their pet. The chain wasn’t short and the cougar could go anywhere in the little space it pleased. Often gazing with intense eyes, its sharp teeth on display, the animal scared the hell out of me.
“Oh, he won’t hurt you,” they told me. “Just feed him.” They threw a chunk of bloody raw meat to the cat, who took it up in its mouth and trotted away behind a sofa.
Two large white dogs were also present. I kept worrying that the cougar would attack and kill one of the dogs. They seemed like they were constantly running away.
“Oh, don’t worry,” the people told me. “That cougar won’t hurt anyone.”
I remained dubious about that, trying to keep attention on the cougar’s location and activities. Then I fed him several times, throwing chunks of raw meat to him. That didn’t seem like enough food for an animal of his size. Eventually the huge carnivore came over and lied down beside me. I petted his muscled body and he purred, prompting me to wonder in the dream, do cougars purr?
Okay, that’s enough, weather wizards. Gonna be 88 later today. Already 70 F. Let’s just put the pause on the rising heat.
Today is Tuesday, 6/6/23. Yesterday afternoon delivered us waves of thunder. When that begins, we eye the horizons and sniff the air, wondering if lightning strikes have started fires anywhere. Then you get on the news and net, searching for reports. Your mind actively engages everything for signs of fire. Is that haze over there? What’s causing that?
So far, so good, though, knock wood, release breath.
When I arrived home yesterday from the writing session, I glanced out to check on Tucker. He likes sleeping out front around the porch where he can move from sun to shadow to warm or cool himself as desired. He was asleep behind the front pillar. Two feet away from him was an adult doe. I let them be, of course, checking every half an hour. I imagine when she first arrived, Tucker quizzed her in floofish — name, species, intentions. She asked him for particulars about this him, this house, and the neighborhood. Then both chilled. Eventually, the thunderboomers seemed to put her on the move.
Papi, of course, was immediately shifted into the house when the thunder came. Papi no like loud noises. Thunder is second only to fireworks on that list.
I have the Thompson Twins with “Doctor Doctor!” rising into the morning mental music stream from 1984. Just came to me as I was puddlin’ around through morning tedium of feeding, eating, dressing. Not a bad song, so I let it stay (as if I have a choice). May as well use it for a theme song.
Stay pos and be comfortable. Hope all works out for you today. Here’s the music. I’m shifting into the kitchen for a little roasted bean water. Cheers
Frontfloof (floofinition) – The animal who stands up to represent other animals as act as figurehead presenting their requests and complaints.
In use: “Three cats, four dogs, two birds, and multiple fish, amphibians, and reptiles, Lemon the goden retriever — named for her habit of stealing lemons and eating them — was the household’s unquestioned frontfloof and their respected enforcer. One woof from her brought treats out and ended fights and arguments.”
FloofsNotes (floofinition) – 1. Abbreviated notes and pamphlets prepared and maintained by animals summarizing people, places, and events.
In use: “The stray didn’t have FloofsNotes so a local floof shared his dog-eared copy. Using it, they were able to find a house where the lady took her in so she could give birth in safety.”
2. Records or notes kept about animals as an aid to people’s knowledge about an animal.
In use: “Adopting two new rescue kittens, Karla immediately invested in a lab notebook to use as FloofsNotes to record the health, activity, and behavior of her new fur friends. They could come in handy if something happened later.”
Michael Seidel, writer 