Racfloofteur

Racfloofteur (floofinition) – Someone skilled in telling animal stories. Origins: Late1800s, American Great Plains states and territories.

In Use: “Gathering in the break room, Mike was the office racfloofteur with his tales about his cats’ battles with him and each other.”

Recent Use: “Though normally reserved, Mai had three dobies became a racfloofteur whenever anyone asked her about her floof friends, weaving engaging stories about the animals’ intelligence, curiosity, and the things they did.”

An Evil Plan

I asked my wife this morning, “Do you know the song, ‘Walk Right In’?”

Nodding, she sang the first verse and then asked, “Is it your ear worm today.”

“Yes. Do you remember any more lyrics?”

Mumbling through the melody, she laughed. “No.”

I sang her the song to remind her. She sort of shrugged me off.

Encountering her in the kitchen thirty minutes later as I was getting ready to leave the house, she said, “Well, your evil plan worked.”

Laughing, I sang, “Walk right in.”

She glumly nodded. “It’s stuck in my head.” Walking past me, she hit my arm.

I just laughed more.

Floofwriter

Floofwriter (floofinition) – Individual who documents or records stories or information about animals by using written words. Origins: Indeterminant but first referenced in print in 1804 in Massachusetts, USA.

In Use: “Once floofs enter their lives, the modern proclivity is for people to become a floofwriter and share tales about their new loves on the net.”

In Use: “An early floofwriter was Beatrix Potter, who created Peter Rabbit in 1902.”

Recent Use: “Seabiscuit is a favorite subject among floofwriters and has been the subject of many books and films due to the small horse’s victories during the American Great Depression.”

Another Wandering Thought

Yes, it’s a little early in the week for a rant, but here I am.

In July of 2023, Twitter was renamed X. Since then, there are many who still write things like, “X, formerly known as Twitter,” or some variation of that.

Do those posting that really think people need reminded? Are there people out there asking, “Say, whatever happened to Twitter? And what is this ‘X’?” Are people reading those posts and articles where it’s written, “X (formerly known as Twitter),” and then turning to others with a gasp of surprise and asking, “Did you know that Twitter is called X now?”

How many more months will pass before this trend ends? Do we need to have a New Year resolution about it?

Monday’s Theme Music

Mood: respectable

After a nocturnal thimble of rain, waking up to 41 F was a welcome change from the cold-morning streak that’s been going on in Ashlandia, where the restaurants are mostly above average.

Today it’s Monday — again — December 11, 2023, for the first time. 48 F now, we’re gonna clock 53 F, the weather prophets reassure us. Sunshine flutters between weak wings and strong glows, pushing efforts out around a flotilla of mixed media clouds and shadowed blue skies.

My theme song is “I Am, I Said”, by Neil Diamond. To be fair, I always thought the song was honest but a little over-the-top. As soon as I heard it, waaayyy back when I was a young adult, I understand what he was singing about. But, yes, some of the lines made me wince. It was one of those which invited The Neurons to plug it into the morning mental music stream (Trademark constrained).

My fault, though. I was walking around the house, looking for my phone, exasperated with myself for misplacing it. As I stopped and forced myself to recall the sequence of last using my phone — checking for a text from Mom and my sisters this morning — I remembered, ah, office, ah, black recliner. And, lo, there the black phone was in the black chair, left there when I jumped up to see what the floof monkeys were screeching at each other about in the other room.

“Of course, in the chair,” I mumbled to myself as I picked it up, checked the charge and confirmed, no texts. Just like that, The Neurons had Neil singing, “I am, I said, to no one there, and no one heard at all, not even the chair.” As the song kept going with only a brief respite filled by “Fifty Ways to Feed Your Floofy” (based on Paul Simon’s song), I felt a need to share Neil’s musical reflections with everyone else and power it out of my head. You’re welcome.

Stay positive, be strong, and lean forward. I’m working on doing the same and may well succeed if I have enough coffee in me. I have begun. Here’s Neil. Cheers

Misanfloof

Misanfloof (floofinition) – Person or animal who avoids the company or society of animals. Origins: Greek, first used in the stated meaning in 1683.

In Use: “She thought he might be a person she wanted to spend her life with until she decided to adopt a puppy and learned that he was a misanfloof.”

In Use: “Karen loved having a pet floof but somehow always managed to adopt one who was a misanfloof who angered whenever any other animal of any sort was around.”

Recent Use: “His latest movie was about a misanfloof who becomes a prophet surrounded by animals after a climate change disaster.”

Metafloofosis

Metafloofosis (floofinition) – Change of physical appearance, size, or personality and behavior in an animal. Origins: Internet, 2020

In Use: “Orphaned as little ones, the puppy and kitten each easily fit into the palm of a hand, but after metafloofosis, they were magnificent creatures who each easily took up half a bed.”

In Use: “The black rescue cat was renamed from Ebony to Sunny, but stayed hidden for the first three days. Day four delivered a metafloofosis from a scared and wary floof into a sweet and intelligent boi who enjoyed treats, playing, catnip, and conversing with his new people as he sat on their laps.”

Recent Use: “The four rescue kittens metafloofosized from extra spicy gray furballs into purring little sweethearts who easily found new homes.”

Grim Task

It was a grim task set before me. I, not a fan of tasks and less enamored of those tasks of the grim variety, didn’t relish taking it up. But duty, right.

All were assembled around the table. Leaning forward so they could see me, looking around, I loudly said, “I have a question for you.” I waited for silence, which came fast and cast another check on their attention; all were regarding me. “Do you wear socks in the shower?” I asked.

Staring followed, then questions. What, what are you talking about, and say that again was heard among the ten facing me, along with some sputtering, uncertain laughing.

“Do you wear socks in the shower?” I repeated.

“No,” several responded, and then a few inquired, “Why are you asking that?”

“Well, my wife read an article about bizarre things people from different states do, and she read that people in Oregon like to shower with their socks on. Then she asked me, ‘Have you ever heard of this?’ No, I told her. She said, ‘I’ve never showered with my socks on, but I don’t shower.’ I told her, ‘I shower, but I don’t wear my socks.'” Then we talked more and realized, maybe people do this but don’t talk about it because it’s a normal routine for them, so they see no need to speak about it. So, I said that I’d ask you guys, my beer group.”

“No,” all chorused, fully laughing now. “None of us wear our socks in the shower.”

Satisfied that the grim task was done, I sat back and sampled my ale. It was very good.

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