Monday’s Wandering Thought
He read the news article about a man stealing from people during an overnight flight. One woman had 10,000 USD and 13,000 Argentinian pesos stolen from her. He and his wife were shocked that she’d be carrying that much currency and that someone was able to steal it from her. As his wife said, “If I had that much on me on an aircraft, I wouldn’t be sleeping, and I’d probably be sitting on my purse.”
Proved
11:30 PM. 72 degrees F outside. The night was still. Nothing stirred. Moon and starshine relieved the night’s black canopy.
He slipped outside with a flashlight and quietly looked up and down the street and around the bushes. Just as expected, he found no zombies.
He nodded to himself as he returned inside. This conclusively proved that zombies don’t like warm weather.
Sunday’s Theme Music
You are here, on Friday, Jun 10, 2021. No, no, wait…stupid time machine. (Yeah, don’t tell me that you think it’s operator error.)
Take two. You are here, on Sunday, July 10, 2022. 18 C outside now, we expect the numbers to strike 87 F before the sun winds down its act at 8:48 PM. The sun tapped danced in through the trees and o’er the hills and mountains at 5:42 this morning. Clouds are absent again, though haze blurs the western horizon. The mornings have been starting out cloudless but clouds drop in later in the day, sailing through on their way to somewhere else. A scorcher is anticipated for tomorrow — 98 F — which kicks off a series of days in the nineties. No triple digits are expected. I’m heading for the coast, though. Much different conditions will rule by the Pacific.
As I was sitting on my throne this morning, The Neurons gifted me with “All Night Long” by Joe Walsh, a song which has been featured as the theme music before. Honest bafflement on my end met their choice. “What is this? A joke?”
The Neurons scoffed and snickered. “Yeah, a joke.”
I often do not understand them. I think they might be young neurons.
Stay positive and test negative, if you will. Two more friends notified us that they were COVID pos yesterday. We’ve been masking and isolating for the most part. Haven’t seen my friends for a beer for two weeks. (Start sad string music.) Didn’t even go out for the 4th or my birthday. Yeah, going to the coast tomorrow, but it’s with a lot of trepidation.
Maybe coffee will help me. I’ll try it. Here’s the tune. It’s a rockin’ one. Cheers
Floofpoint
Floofpoint (floofinition) 1. New, helpful, or insightful information about animals.
In use: “After being owned by dogs, birds, and cats for years, Thomas was always willing to share floofpoints with others about how to keep the animals healthy and happy.
2. An end goal or objective sought by one or more animals.
In use: “Knowing where the treats were kept, Barney’s floofpoint was all about how to get to that cupboard, open the door, and pull out the bag.”
3. A situation with animals where one side wins the contest if they achieve a clear advantage in a situation or contest.
In use: “The cat had the dog’s bed. Knowing that was floofpoint, the dog did everything possible to dislodge the cat, but the cat prevailed, looking smug in victory.”
The Writing Moment
“Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.”
― E.L. Doctorow, Writers At Work: The Paris Review Interviews
Yeah, and sometimes your electrics short and the headlights go out, spraying panic all through your nervous system.
The Writing Moment
The muse said, “Write this,” and dictated. The writer balked. “I don’t know how this fits together with what I’ve already written nor where it’s going.”
Patting him on the head, the muse whispered, “Don’t worry. It’ll all come together.”
Glowering, the writer did as bid, hoping that he’d get a decent editing muse assigned to him later.
Floofnosia
Floofnosia (floofinition) – Disability that negates humans’ ability to see, recognize, or remember animals.
In use: “It seemed like every time that Marlee’s cousin came to her house, the girls would trip over Marlee’s and exclaim when she saw Thor, ‘Who is that? May I pet him?’ Every time.”
The Writing Moment
Sometimes, the muse sneaks in and takes over without a word. Hours speed by like seconds. A day of writing passes in a blizzard of words.
Tuesday’s Wandering Thought
With Boo’s demise, the mystery of which cat struggled with the litter box was finally decisively closed.
Michael Seidel, writer 