He remembered when his family ordered things from a catalog when he was a boy. First, there was filling out the form of the item numbers, quantities, and prices. “Get my credit card from my purse,” Mom would order. The 800 number was called, the order placed.
Days of mystery would ensue. When would the order get here? Where is it now? Each day brought the three Ws: watching, waiting, wondering.
Slip forward a few decades. Companies began telling him exactly when his order would arrive. Shipping and tracking advances continued. Soon, he tracked his packages as they left faraway cities and countries and zigzagged a path to his home. He knew exactly when it would arrive. It was immensely satisfying.
Systems matured and processes evolved. Breakdowns from overloaded, overpromising systems became endured. Tracking information is still sent out, but he frequently finds himself as he was when he was a child, watching, waiting, wondering.
Sunday slipped into space with the weariness of an old ship being brought into port the final time. Rain and cold air heralded his arrival. Lackluster sunrise contributed its presence at 7:29 AM, or as the house floofs term it, midday. They’ve been up a few hours, pranking one another, running around, and asking me to play with them. “In a little while,” I slur with sleep-induced laziness.
Welcome to December 11, 2022.
The floofs have eaten and are now asleep. It’s 2 degrees C out but don’t worry, it’ll spunk up to 44 F before the sun slinks away at 4:39 PM. It’ll get down to 34 F tonight and up to 46 tomorrow before dropping to 25 tomorrow night. We’re expecting snow showers sometime during this up and down cycle.
I have “She’s Not There” in my morning mental music stream. It’s the Santana version. Yeah, a repeat, delivered by Les Neurons after I answered a survey about my recent replacement part shopping experience. I detailed it more in the post, “Replacement Part”. Anyway, I commented to the company that they’re not there on the weekends. Les Neurons shuffled from ‘you’ to ‘she’ faster than a floof can eat a treat. The Zombies did a great job with the Argent written song in 1964. I know it well and admired it. But Les Neurons keep playing Carlos Santana’s guitar from his group’s cover of it in 1977. Who am I to argue with my neurons? Might as well argue with the floofs or muses. Those are all arguments I will lose, along with any engaged with my spouse.
Stay positive, test negative, and if you fail, try again, right? I need some coffee. Here’s Santana and the song. Have a better one. Cheers
Imfloofuity(floofinition) – An animal or animal behavior exempt or immune to blame or punishment.
In use: “Two cats and three dogs lived with Michelle and her family, and the pets knew the rules. Then a new rescue kitten arrived and was given imfloofuity, getting onto the tables and kitchen counters, knocking things off shelves, and attacking plants. The other animals asked one another why that floof was allowed to do these things, but then the sweet little floof walked up and gazed up at them with her big eyes, and the other animals immediately forgot why they were upset.”
Floofytum(floofinition) – The innermost sanctuary in an animal’s resting or meeting space, open only to priests.
In use: “People have found that their pets like kennels as a floofytum as only other animals are small enough to enter and humans are forced to remain outside, giving the floofs privacy and security. Pets without kennels will make up their own floofytums in drawers, closets, baskets, or under
The streetlights were on, unmoored, half-seen yellow orbs floating over either side of the street.
Snow smothered dusk’s dimming light. No one else was on the street. Dressed in blue jeans, a shirt, and tennis shoes – which had holes in the soles that he’d mended with pieces of cardboard – he ran, shivering and sniffling, up the street past the warm-looking suburban houses. Most seemed half-buried in snow. Windblown snow stuck to his clothing and hair and stressed his cheeks with icy daggers. Shoving his fingers deep into his tight jeans’ pockets, keeping at least those warm, he licked snot off his nose, lifted his shoulders, and ran, catching slides and racing on.
Exploding into home, he rushed to a heater duct and stood in front of it, dripping, drying, shivering, warming. enjoying the heat. Mom, orchestrating laundry not far away, turned and stared at him, her hands continuing their folding. “Where is your coat?” she asked. Then answered herself, “Don’t tell me you forgot it again.”
When he nodded, yes, her shoulders sagged and she snapped, “Oh my God.” A warm towel was pulled from the dryer, shook out, and handed to him. “Why in God’s name didn’t you go back for it?”
He shrugged. “I was hungry. I wanted to get home.”
She issued a familiar tongue click of disappointment. He felt too stupid to be her son.
Howdy, peeps, and merry Thursday. Have we got a Thursday in store for you. Sunshine and — well, not yet. No clear sunshine, not yet. Not with that plate of clouds guarding the valley sky. Which also means, um, no blue skies, either, not yet. Maybe later. Although today’s winter weather advisory has some skin in that outcome.
But it is 44 F under all that wintry sky. No signs of incipient precipitation, other than, you know, clouds. And today’s high will be 45 F, so we have that going for us.
Not bad, no. Others are enduring worse, yeah. We await the outcome of the weather advisory and hope for more snow up on the mountain’s packs. The sun stepped up at 7:27 this morning and will retire from valley duties at 4:38 PM. This is Thursday, December 8, 2022.
I enjoy posting the day’s sunrise and sunset every day. Tracking how those times change for my valley through the year’s action helps me solidly envision planet Earth’s tilt and rotation as it speeds around Sol. Sometimes I try looking closer to see myself, peering down at the racing planet surface as it flashes by about 1,000 miles an hour. But I’m usually in the house or in a car or the coffee shop, only emerging to check mail, do some work, or take walks. A small percentage of day is actually spent ‘outside’. When I am outside, I’ll often look up and wave, thinking that either ET civilizations or government satellites will spot me. Just being friendly, you know?
Canned Heat and their 1970 song, “Let’s Work Together” came up in the morning mental music stream. The Neurons heard me pleading with the muses yesterday while I was walking and glancing up for spy satellites and aliens, “Can’t you guys get organized and work together?” The muses seem to like rushing the writing room en masse and then throwing things at me from different angles to see what sticks. I type like mad, write notes, and make plans, but it’s all ugly intense. Hearing my plea caused The Neurons to dig into the music memory box and tug this song out. I used it as theme music back in 2018 but it feels like it’s time to use it again.
It’s also a good song for dealing with some issues of the day, like divided politics and climate change. Just saying.
Stay positive and test negative. I’m getting The Neurons a cuppa coffee. I’ll probably have one, too, and grab some for the muses as well.
Here we go. Enjoy the music. Merry Thursday. Cheers
Affloofmation(floofinition) – Positive actions or behavior to reassure an animal and gain their trust.
In use: “Learning how to interact with animals as she grew up with a life full of birds, lizards, cats, dogs, goats, horses, cows, and llamas, Peaches developed a repertoire of affloofmations and became known as ‘The Floof Whisperer’.”
Michael Seidel, writer 