Floof-si-do

Floof-si-do (floofinition) – a figure in which a human and animal pass each other foot (human) to shoulder (animal) or head, and circle each other as the pet tries for the human’s attention, and the human tries not to step upon or kick the animal.

In use: “He had a full plate of cheese and crackers in his hand, but that didn’t stop his pet from initiating a little kitchen floof-si-do.”

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My New Holiday

I’ve decided that a new holiday is in order. Don’t worry, it’s a personal holiday. It shouldn’t affect you.

(“Then why do I care?” you respond. “Well,” I reply, “maybe you’ll want to adopt my holiday after you read about it. Maybe you’ll want to have your own personal holiday. You can, you know.”)

National holidays are often so impersonal for me any longer. Commercialization, false patriotism, and cynicism have ground them down. Yeah, I get some credit for all that.

I was watching QI on BritBox the other night. As part of the program, Sandi Toksvig told about a Bolivian holiday, the Day of the Sea. A landlocked nation, Bolivia remembers the day they lost access to the sea. Here’s a little history about it from Boliviabella.com.

What initially detonated the conflict was Bolivia’s intention to charge a 10-cent tax per 100-pounds of potassium nitrate (saltpeter) harvested by Chilean companies in the Atacama Desert. The Chilean government did not accept this Bolivian decision and ordered its troops to invade the Bolivian regions of Antofagasta and Calama, where Bolivia had no military presence and most of the population was of Chilean descent.

It is because of the Battle of Calama that today we celebrate the Day of the Sea. With just under a hundred soldiers, Commanders Eduardo Abaroa (Bolivian) and Ladislao Cabrera (Peruvian) faced over 500 Chilean soldiers. Abaroa was obstinately defending a small bridge over the Topáter River, when on the 23rd of March 1879 the Chileans ordered him to surrender. His response was “Me, surrender? Tell your grandmother to surrender!” after which he was promptly shot dead.

I was instantly inspired. No, I wasn’t planning to shot anyone nor get shot or go to war. Let’s put all that to rest.

I love beaches, seas, and oceans. When I lived in California, my wife and I made a habit of visiting a little town, Half Moon Bay, almost every weekend. Situated on the Pacific coast south of San Francisco, it had wonderful beach access. Walking along the beach was permitted, and the town had restaurants, coffee shops, and book stores that we enjoyed. When it came to buy a house, we decided we’d buy one there. Hearing and smelling the ocean every day was wonderful. I’d get home from work and walk down there to check it out. Sometimes my wife would accompany me.

Moving to Ashland in southern Oregon meant giving up easy beach and ocean access. So, last night I decided to celebrate my beach and ocean addiction on a personal holiday once a year. Since I moved to Ashland in July, I decided my holiday will be on July first.

And like the people of Bolivia, I’ll stop doing everything and listen to the sounds of the oceans for ten minutes, and remember.

 

The Truth

He repeated something that his wife had told him. “I never said that,” she said before anyone else could speak.

Indignation rose. Yes, you did, he began to say, but considered, maybe he’d heard it wrong. Maybe he was mis-remembering. Or maybe she’d said it wrong. Perhaps she didn’t remember saying it, or the people that told her had told her wrong. Or maybe she’d incorrectly remembered what she’d been told and then told him wrong, but didn’t remember it.

The only way to resolve this would be record and index everything so that he could go back and know exactly what was said. 

Yeah, right. Who had time for that?

He smiled. “Sorry. I guess I got it wrong.”

An Hour

9:35

The temperature was thirty-five F.

Dazzling sunshine streamed in through the windows.

Plans were made.

9:45 

Thick, glistening snowflakes tumbled down. Gaining momentum and volume, they soon curtained the landscape and smothered the ground.

10:15

It looked like a blizzard.

Plans were re-arranged.

10:30

Snow no longer fell.

Dripping sounds from melting snow filled the air.

10:35

Little snow covered the ground. Some still covered roofs.

Light gray clouds swarmed across the sky. Sunshine splashed through.

The temperature was thirty-five F.

Plans were re-arranged.

 

Floofbed

Floofbed (floofinition) – when the bed isn’t made because a pet was sleeping on it.

In use: “Getting up, she went to make the bed, but the pets were sleeping on it, and they looked so sweet. Sighing, she accepted, she had floofbed, dressed, and went to work.”

Floofsive

Floofsive (floofinition) – a state or expression where a housepet appears engaged in, involving, or reflecting deep or serious thought.

In use: “He said, as he does every morning, “Who’s hungry? Who wants something to eat?” In response, the cats and dogs sat down and regarded him with floofsive gazes, as if they didn’t know who he was.”

Enflooflope

Enflooflope (floofinition) – the accepted limits for what housepets are permitted to do; being constrained or trapped by housepets.

In use: “Jade was a smart and willful tabby who enjoyed pushing the enflooflope, jumping up counters and table tops, taking food from plates as though it was her serving, arguing back with sharp meows and a swishing tail when remonstrated.”

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