Floof Grand Prix Qualifying
It was on.
Emitting a small chirp, the little orange beast used maximum thrust, hitting top speed as he raced up the Dining Room Straight.
Reaching the Sofa Right, he demonstrated masterful control, twisting and accelerating with some spin, tailfishing as he scabbled for traction on the short hardwood floor Table Straight, then punched left at the Plant Stand. Into the Living Room Complex he flashed, moving left-right-left-right. A short burst carried him on the brief but celebrated Coffee Table Straight to the Back Door Hairpin.
Precisely he executed a narrow spinback by the magazine basket. Then it was back through the gears along the TV Straight, handling the transition from carpet to hardwood floor without a pause. Hard braking and sliding, he made the ninety-degree corner onto the Master Bedroom Straight. Up through the Door Kink he sped, diving under the bed.
Back out the other side of the bed he roared, out the door and down the Linen Closet Straight. The Dining Room Entrance’s hard right was managed with little loss of control. A final sprint for the Foyer start/finish line followed.
He pitted on the Entrance Rug. It’d been a good run, maybe one of the best ever.
He sat and washed in victory.
Tuesday’s Theme Music
7 AM. I open the blinds because I know sunrise was at 6:59.
No sun. Droves of fat flakes lash the window and veil the world. It’s 37 degrees F so it’s not sticking.
I meander through the house TCB. An hour later, I’m at the kitchen window. 37 F. Sunny as Florida.
Florida comes to mind because my wife spoke with her sister yesterday. Sis lives in Florida. She was in her pool. 80 F.
Back in Ashlandia, ten minutes later, it’s dark and gloomy. Low clouds hide the mountains.
It’s 37 F.
This is Tuesday, February 21, 2023. Winting rules Ashlandia. Weather sages tell us the high will be 42 degrees F later today, then we’ll drop into the twenties for the night. Snow is expected to fall after sunset at 5:51 PM.
10 AM. It’s a broken blue and white sky. No sunshine.
Papi, the ginger marvel, has been galloping around the house, wailing to be let outside, beating on windows to come back in. He is not a fan of winting weather.
I have “Jumper” (1997), Third Eye Blind, looping through the morning mental music stream. The cause mystifies me. The Neurons must have something in mind but they’re not telling me. Behind the song was a story of a high school committing suicide after being bullied about their sexual identity. The song was played for Republicans in 2015 at the convention to protest the GOP’s anti-LGBT positions.
Stay pos. Enjoy the weather as best as you can. It’s almost sunny here now. No, wait, clouds have skated in. It’s snowing. No, it stopped. Look, it’s sunny.
Here’s the tune. Where is my coffee?
Here comes the snow. Cheers
Monday’s Theme Music
Woo hoo. It’s Monday, February 20, 2023, and we did it. Sunrise is at 7 AM in Ashlandia today. A surfeit of daylight and sun greeting me upon admitting Papi back into his house after his 6:37 excursion.
It’s Presidents’ Day in America. Time to sell some cars, furniture, and appliances at significant savings! Doesn’t change the weather. Winting stands strong, 29 degrees F at dawn, 38 F now, 62 F later. Dusk will resume around sunset, 1750. Winter warnings are out. Apparently, winter is coming back for another engagement.
“Faint” by Linkin Park (2003) plays in the morning mental music stream. There are lines in the song about not being ignored and don’t turn your back on me. I was trying to ignore Papi’s request to exit again (he’d come in fifteen minutes before, and the sun wasn’t yet up). I told him, too, “We’ve had this conversation. You need to stop going in and out. I need sleep, please.” His response was a yowl, which my FVD Mark IV said meant, “I will not be ignored.” Ah, said The Neurons, “here’s ‘Faint’ by Linkin Park.”
Here’s the music for you so you can see how music sounded twenty years ago. Stay pos and take over your Monday like a floof boss. I need coffee. Already ate waffles for breakfast. Maybe I’ll have a brownie with my coffee. For energy.
Here’s the tune. Cheers
Sunday’s Theme Music
We clang into Sunday and draw up with a hiss of brakes. Slow down, you move too fast. It’s Sunday, February 19, 2023.
Many people accelerate activities on Sunday. This is the one day they’re free of other commitments like work and school. They rush around, getting things done, because this is Sunday, and this is the only day they have to get things done. They’re Sunday dynamos. My wife is sometimes like that.
37 F now, the weather cats tell me it’ll be 52 F for the day’s high. Winting still holds in Ashlandia. Sunshine that was turned on about 7:02 this morning illuminates a marbled blue and white bowl overhead. Sun time ends at 5:48 this evening.
Papi is at the office door, giving me the look. He’s talking to me now and again, small, high barks. Yes, he is a cat, but he likes to bark. Maybe he thinks I understand barking better than meowing. He’s wrong. I interpret his sounds by using my FVD – Floof Voice Decoder – Mark IV. The FVD tells me that Papi is either asking to go back outside, wants to play and be petted, or is telling me that people are breaking into the house. I pet him and let him out. I go out with him onto the back patio and enjoy winting, lapping lap up sunshine and cold, fresh air like it’s beer and nuts. Sunshine kisses buds on tree branches. Robins, scrub jays, and others are busy with food gathering and arguing. Papi goes on alert for whatever he can stalk.
Heads up, there’s winter storm advisory for Ashlandia for tomorrow.
Lot of personal stuff going on in my head. Nothing critical, just annoyances. The Neurons end up feeding “Waiting for the World to Change” by John Mayer, 2006. A little too mellow for my buds, it’s a good enough, and sums up my reaction to my frustration in the greater sense, I’m waiting for changes over which I have little control or input. That’s life, it seems.
Stay pos, and enjoy Sunday for what it is to you – a day of rest, worship, errands, or chilling. Some will be working. I’ll do my usual, head to the coffee shop and write, then back to the house for chores. Here’s the music. Cheers
Braggafloofcious
Braggafloofcious (floofinition) – Being boastful about a floof.
In use: “Michael was very braggafloofcious, always telling floof tales about the orange boiz and their many presents, and how high they could jump.”
Saturday’s Theme Music
A whitewashed sky met the sun as it hopped the horizon at 7:05 this morning. 36 F now, the weather goons says to us, they say it’s gonna be 49 F before the sun’s sojourn over Ashlandia ends on this Saturday, Feb. 18, 2023.
I’ve found that feeding Papi the ginger wunderfloof at 5:30 slows his roll. Yes, that’s AM. I can do it in my sleep. He gets so happy about having a little tin of something opened and spooned out. Amazing that he only nibbles five bites before declaring that it was enough and heads to the kibble. He enjoys the pomp and ceremony of wet food twice a day but he’s a kibbler at heart. Tucker eats it all. The wet food is attacked with low purrs and gusto. Very sweet and funny to watch. Specially at 5:30 AM. He reasons, if the other boy is getting some, he’s getting some, too. Then it’s back to the bed beside me for Tucker, wearing a cat food fragrance, washing himself with such rigor that the bed shakes me awake, and I think, earthquake. Naw, just a floofquake.
The Neurons are singing “(Absolutely) Story of A Girl” by Nine Days (2000). All started with a cat. Whole story begins back in the eighties and my main floof of the period, Rocky, sole survivor of his litter and a hoarding situation. He and I became acquainted in Germany when he fit in my palm and his eyes weren’t open. His mom wanted nothing to do with him but he was a true sweetfloof, total playhead. When “(Absolutely) Story of A Girl” was on the air as part of the rotations, I naturally sang “This is the story of a cat” to hijm. I mean, who wouldn’t, right? Decades later, the song was revived for Papi this morning. “This is the story of a cat, who woke me up to go out and come back.” Time after time, as Lauper would say.
Stay pos, catch the light and tame the day. I’ll get right on that as soon as my brain has more coffee. Here’s the tune. Know it? Cheers
Upfloofing
Upfloofing (floofinition) 1. Increasing the number of animals in a household.
In use: “She’d gone to the shelter to bring home a kitten to keep her dog company after his feline friend passed away, and ended up upfloofing with a bonded set of two kittens and puppy. All seemed joyous to be in one another’s company when they were introduced.”
2. Making changes to a building or furniture to accommodate animal(s).
In use: “Upfloofing the house was done by adding a flooftio on the back where the household pets could safely relax in their own little enclosed area and still enjoy being outside.”
Thursday’s Theme Music
The weather witches (it is too a thing) whisper to me that we’ll be functioning between 30 and 38 degrees F outside, as Winting continues holding on to Ashlandia. The sun blended in at 7:06 AM, a little heat, a little light, then suddenly shafts of brilliant bright, gone before you blink. Clouds will be hanging about throughout the day, Thursday, Feb. 18, 2023. Sunset’s moment comes at 5:45 PM.
Had a relaxing meetup with friends for beers last night, just eight of us for about ninety minutes at a local brewery, Caldera. Good to see them and reflect on news, culture, and life. A quick five was spent remembering horses’ names from movies and television shows. Silver, Buttermilk, Scout, Ol’ Blue, Hidalgo, etc. News of Raquel Welch’s passing had made the news just before we met up, so there was extensive conversation about 1,000,000 Years B.C. from 1967, followed up by a Quest for Fire and Caveman.
Despite the cold temperatures, Papi insisted on braving the temps to prove himself. He was out and then back in ten minutes later, as that sunshine just didn’t cut the cold enough. Part of that experience had be telling him, “I’m going to close the door in three, two, one,” before he made the dash. The Neurons pulled out a song called “After Hours” and slotted it into the morning mental music stream. “After Hours” was released in 1969 but I didn’t know it until the mid-seventies. Stationed at Clark Air Base on a unaccompanied tour, I picked up a Velvet Underground tape, and this song was on it. The Neurons keyed on the words, “But if you close the door,” which is repeated often in the school. It’s a sweet, mellow song.
The wife has a Zoom coffee call in the other room. People who used to live in Ashlandia, who were attending the Y exercise class — you know the one, led by Mary for the last thirty-five years, right? — wanted to see their friends and share their news. K has been attending this Mon-Wed-Fri class since we moved here in 2005. It’s been the key to many social connections, including the book club which she started with five other class members. Membership has changed but they continue to meet once a month. K hosts in March, which means we’ll be doing a big clean.
Stay pos, and carpe diem. I’ll carpe some coffee first. Here’s the music. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 