Floofkade
Floofkade (floofinition) (origins: Alberta, Canada) – 1. Effort to cut off another animal from a particular area by force or threat of force.
In use: “The kitten began eating and immediately put up a floofkade with his paws on the bowl and several growls and yowls as he chewed.”
2. Effort, typically through fencing or objects, to keep animals segregated.
In use: “The dogs were floofkaded in separate kennels, but one dog figured out how to open us, and soon, he’d lifted the floofkade by single-pawedly opening all the cages.”
The Ticket Dream
The Beatles’ “Ticket to Ride” started streaming in my head as soon as I awoke and thought about this dream.
To begin. I was alone in my car. My wife was away. I was going to see a local play. It was a big, annual event.
First, I was dismayed because I was waiting for a parking spot and someone else drive in and took it. As I complained about that, I discovered a lot more — and better — parking available. I was pleased as I parked.
I then went to a machine to purchase my ticket. That would reserve my right to see the show. I put twenty dollars in the machine and then realized that that would give me two tickets when I only needed one. Riding the roller coaster again, I frothed at myself and what I’d done.
I walked to the theater’s entrance see what plays were available. Two were running. After deciding which to see, I went back to the machine. I put my ticket in and selected my play. It spit out my new ticket, and five dollars. I didn’t understand why I was getting five dollars back but I was happy about it.
I headed for the door through the throngs of people. Most were moving slow; impatient, I cut around a group of four men, telling them, “Excuse me,” as I did, as one veered into my path.
That guy laughed. “Oh, look at this guy, hurrying, like he’s special, like we’re not all going to the same place.”
He, a bald, bearded, stocky white man, irritated me, but I put that behind me and got in line. We advanced until I was the next one in line. Then the ticket taker, a young, tall man in a red uniform, announced, “I’m sorry, everyone. I’m afraid that I have to announce that there are no more seats. The theater is closed. I’m sorry.”
Protests about having tickets rose. The young man spoke directly to me. “They do this every year. They oversell tickets and then people are turned away at the door.”
Disappointed, I made my way to the my car and then went off.
Using dream rules, I was now in a huge, crowded room. I had a twin bed with a light blue bedspread, one of hundreds, maybe thousands, of such beds.
I was kneeling by my bed when the four men came up who I’d passed before. The bearded one sat down on my bed. “Hey, get off my bed please,” I said.
“Why?”
“Because I want to use it.”
“Can’t we both use it?” He had a large plate of food. Saying, “Here, have some food,” he pour a huge portion of spaghetti and sauce onto my bed.
I asked, “Why’d you do that? I don’t want that. I’ve already eaten.”
“I just wanted to share with you.”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry. I’ve already eaten. Besides, if you were giving me food, pouring cooked food on my bedspread isn’t the way to do it. I have to sleep here.”
He was mumbling something back. I was attempting to move the spaghetti. Noticing some partially eaten chicken parm, I was tempted to eat some of the food but pushed against that idea.
The guy began cleaning up, but he made a mess of it. The ticket taker came by to chat with me. Seeing the mess, he summoned someone to help clean it up. As that was happening, he apologized for the ticket situation. He said, “They do this every year. They really need to fix it.”
A manager, a Hispanic woman in a skirt and white top came by to see what was going on. Seeing her, the ticket taker told her that he was just telling me about the tickets. “They really need to fix it.”
The woman agreed. “They do.”
A tall and bald white man wearing glasses, came by. The woman told me and the ticket taker that he was the senior manager. Then she addressed the man. “When are they going to fix the ticket problem? Every year, they sell too many tickets, and we turn people away at the door. Why does this happen? It doesn’t need to.”
“We are going to fix it. You’re in charge.”
The woman was taken back. “What are you saying?”
“I’m telling you that the board met just now, and they’ve delegated authority to you to come up with a plan and fix the problem.” The man walked off.
Pleased, the woman looked at me. “Well, there you go. I’m going to fix it.”
The dream ended. Cue the Beatles.
Easter Pancakes
When we began hunkering down, my wife used it as an excuse to clean out the freezers, frig and pantry. (Yeah, she’s one of those people who said, “Now I have time to clean things,” and then cleaned, making the rest of us in the household (which is me and the three cats, so, really, we’re talking about me, because the cats don’t care) look bad. (Yeah, I’m over it, okay?) While doing that, she found some lemon and blueberries pancake mix.
We’d bought it a while ago at a locally famous mill, famous because it’s been there a long time and still does things the old fashioned way, and there’s nothing else like that in the area. Called Butte Creek Mill, it burned down in December, 2015. Because it was local and famous, we visited it and the pancake mix about six years before it burned down. So, it’s old stuff.
There wasn’t any date on it. My wife wanted to pitch it. “It can’t be good.” She opened it. We smelled it. Everyone knows that smelling is the second best scientific way to check for freshness. I let one of the cats smell it, but he just walked away with a bored tail shrug.
“Smells good to me,” I said. Then said, “Save it. I’ll make us pancakes on Easter morning. It’ll be fun.”
That brings us to today.
I rose, made breakfast and ate it (oatmeal with cranberries, walnuts, with granola on top), made coffee, and started writing. My wife came out a little later. “I thought you were making us pancakes this morning.”
This morning? Today? Oh, yeah, Easter. “Sorry, I was writing in my head and went to auto-pilot and forgot.”
She gave me a glare that made the sleeping cats wake up and leave (that’s why they left in my mind — they were sensing danger). I proposed to make the pancakes for brunch. “You don’t like eating this early anyway,” I said, like that made it all okay, because I was really thinking of her.
“Fine.” I could tell she wasn’t pleased.
Fast forward a few hours. I made the pancakes. We don’t have cow milk so used vanilla almond milk. One egg refused to leave its perch in the carton. Instead of taking one of the other thirteen eggs available as a sane person would do, I tried pulling it out and put my thumb through the shell.
Stupid egg.
Now I had an egg mess to clean up. I also wondered if it was a bad omen for the eggs, because these things must happen for a reason, and the reason could be as a warning, “Don’t eat the pancakes.”
(In hindsight, though, that one egg was the only one on that side. I’d wondered why it’d been left alone on that side. Now I suspect that my wife set me up. She can be diabolical.)
But the pancakes were made, and we haven’t died yet. They were delicious. Even though the blueberries seemed like pea stones in the batter, when they cooked up, they were moist, and looked and tasted just like real blueberries.
The package made about twenty-six pancakes about six inches in diameter (because that’s how I like them). We ate some and froze eighteen with wax paper between them. Now we have something to look forward to finding when we clean the freezer again.
It’ll probably be during the next pandemic.
His Rules
He wears the same damn pants every day. They’re loose, so he doesn’t need to watch his weight.
He’s added pockets to his pants for the remotes so they’ll never be lost (not that he goes far – frig, microwave, shitter, couch). He wears a utility belt with Tums, cough drops, and other crap that he might need that he doesn’t want to get up to get. A small frig resides besides the couch for essential soda and beer.
Clocks and calendars have been removed; who needs time? Sleeping on the couch makes the whole damn thing easier. He doesn’t plan to bathe or shave until this whole damn thing is over, his protest against government overreach.
Still, his mouth is hurting, so he’s thinking, maybe he’ll break down and brush his teeth.
Starts
We weren’t able to get out to buy starts. There was a run just when shelter in place was announced; the initial supply was gone, and there weren’t any more to be had. But…looking around the house, seeds purchased years ago were found. Would they be any good? We didn’t know.
My wife decided to try them. We didn’t have starter soil or the proper pots. She made do. Arugula was planted (in the pot on the left) and butterleaf lettuce was put in the big pot on the other end. The middle pots were planted with basil. They were place in a dining room window where sun is plentiful from dawn to dusk.
We’re pleased with the progress so far. With the weather warming (into the seventies tomorrow), she plans to put some arugula out tomorrow. Meanwhile, we have other carrot, onion, and radish seeds.
FIFO
We’ve begun our third week of isolation. Our state, Oregon, has done well on containment. As of today, we stand at 538 confirmed cases and 8 fatalities. No fatalities have been reported in my city, Ashland. Nineteen cases are reported for Ashland. Our city hospital been set up as a COVID-19 county treatment center for mild to moderate cases.
The first two weeks of being sequestered at home, we cleaned, inventorying supplies on hand and reviewing recipe and meal ideas.
(Okay, when I say, ‘we’, I’m using the couple we. My wife has done 99.9% of this. My input has been almost negligible.)
My wife suggested first in, first out eating practices. The oldest stuff should be consumed first, if we agree it seems edible.
I countered: we want to use our fresh produce so that it doesn’t go to waste.
A compromise was agreed: FIFO would be employed one day, and a fresh meal the next. Whenever we do a FIFO meal, we’d add fresh produce, if it made sense. Smoothies would be consumed each day.
It’s been going well. We were well-supplied with staples. My partner baked. A can of old pumpkin was sacrificed (along with old cream cheese and an extra sweet potato) to make a pumpkin roll and pumpkin muffins. A quarter was consumed; the rest were frozen for future eating.
She slices and freezes bananas that become overly ripe (they’re used in smoothies). But when we’d had a large supply of them established, she made us banana-pecan muffins. Again, a few were consumed, but most were frozen.
Vegan split-pea soup followed, then roasted vegetable soup. Each lasted us several days.
Along the way, we’d been eating salads, which is our long-established habit. As COVID-19 practices and projections took shape, we began thinking in longer terms. While grocery stores have taken precautions and special hours set aside for people like us (over sixty years old), they also report supply chain issues. My wife has RA and is considered vulnerable. She didn’t want us going out if we could avoid it. But more supplies were needed.
Enter Instacart.
I created an Instacart account and explored it. Instacart supports four chains in our area: Safeway, Albertson’s, Fred Meyers, and Costco.
Costco! That’s our go-to place.
First I logged into Costo.com to check supplies. Out. Out. Out. Out.
I figured that resupplies would eventually arrive. I made it a daily practice to check. Finally, on Friday, bingo, several items that we wanted were now available. We also wanted fresh produce, for example, romaine, blueberries, bananas, celery, potatoes. Ah, that was available, but only if we shifted the order to Instacart.
Prices were compared. One, shopping groceries online with Costco is more expensive than shopping at the warehouse. Kind of expected, and they weren’t gouging us. Two, prices with Instacart were just a little more. Three, you tip your Instacart shopper.
Okay. We discussed it. Seeing that our supplies were going down, that cases in Ashland were going up, that the whole situation was unstable and uncertain, we put an Instacart order in last Friday.
The process itself was simple and well-organized. In fact, I consider it one of the better online shopping experiences that I’ve gone through. I was never confused about what was happening. They would tell us immediately if an item wasn’t available in our zip code. With some items, such as eggs, they warned us that they were in short supply, and brought up options. Cool.
Next were delivery instructions. Well, we didn’t want to break them directly into the house. We couldn’t leave them outside, either. I came up with an option: move one of the cars out of the garage and set up a table in there. When they were in route, we’d open the garage. They’d put the stuff in there.
The garage usually runs 48 – 52 degrees F at this time of year. We were only ordering one frozen item and a few refrigerated items. We’d put ice on those things and let everything stay out there overnight. Then, we’d clean it off and put it away.
Once the plan was established, we entered those instructions into our order and selected a delivery time. Delivery times were two hour windows on Saturday. They began at 2 PM. Well, we weren’t going anywhere… We selected two to four PM.
The order was received and processed within minutes. The system told us that we could change it, removing or adding things, until shopping was underway. After considering it overnight, we decided some of the stuff we’d ordered was too much, and removed them.
Next came our first ‘issue’, and it as small one. Our delivery window was moved to Sunday morning, 11 AM. Bummer. We were looking forward to it coming on Saturday. With little else to do, we were sort of focused on that happening. Oh, well, though.
Time passed. On a whim, I checked on the order.
Gadzooks! It was on the way. According to the email, it’d be arriving in about ten minutes.
Scramble, scramble, scramble! We were dressed, but had to follow up on our receiving plan. That done, a few minutes later, the delivery arrived.
Alicia P was our shopper and delivery person. She had an assistant with her (he was driving, citing the changing weather conditions as his reason for being). Everything went off without a hitch. Only one item didn’t make it: pasta. We have some pasta. I’ll do another order for Albertson’s via Instacart this week to see if that can be ordered.
Instacart recommended a five percent tip, which worked out to just under nine dollars. I upped it to fifteen. I figured Alicia P deserved it, and it was cheap at that. I acknowledge, yeah, we’re lucky. We have the financial wherewithal to do this, a Costco is in range, and people like Alicia P are willing to work for Instagram under these conditions. And, yes, part of my reason for pushing my wife to do an order on Friday night was that Instacart drivers were talking about striking on Monday, 3/30. The other reason was that stuff was at Costco, but how much longer would it be there?
So, we’re set again.
I slipped outside for a few minutes, taking out the recycle and getting the mail. We decided we’d pick up the mail every Sunday morning.
It was balmy and drizzly, a lovely day for a walk, except for the hidden killer that could be lurking in the air. Sadly, I returned to the house via the garage and followed sanitizing precautions.
Hope you’re all doing well out there in webland. Good luck, and stay well.
Cheers
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.