Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Floofbular (floofinition) – Floofdarin slang term, adopted from the eighties slang term, ‘tubular’, used among animals to express high regard or appreciation for something.
In use: “The cats thought getting tuna was fantastic. “Floofbular,” one told the other, which, to the unschooled in Floofdarin, sounded like a rising and falling trilling-mewing-purr.”
Floofnorant (floofinition) – People who are oblivious of animals and animal behavior, except for the barest awareness that animals exist.
In use: “Many of the floofnorant sniff and make disdainful noises that animals are dumb, don’t have emotions, and don’t feel pain. People who live with animals have a much different view.”
Dawn broke the darkness at 7:39 AM. Its light had been stealing in like a child sneaking up to take a cookie that they weren’t supposed to take. But it officially came at 7:39. The backside comes at straight up 5 PM.
Today is January 11, 2022. This will be the only day this year with that date. Make it a special day in honor of its uniqueness. Our temperatures remain warm, 40 F at dawn, 52 now, on our way to 58 to 60. A faded winter sky overlooks a fusion landscape of fall and spring, bare trees and new growth.
I have Steve Winwood’s 1988 song, “Don’t You Know What the Night Can Do?”, parading through the morning’s mental music stream, a reflection of a night of vivid dreams and contemplations about spectrums — the spectrum of time, life, and biology. How the night can change a mood is impressive. One can fall into sleep, awaken a zillion hours later and feel fantastic. Not what the night can do, per se: don’t you know what a good night of sleep can do?
In other news, scientists are using the idea of warm balls as a possible male contraceptive. There are some limits: “In the hotter tests of the experiment, however, the balls atrophied, and in some—depending on how much iron oxide was injected, and how hot the nuts got—showed “distinct black discolorations” and the testes were “severely damaged at 7 days.” If they were cooked above 113 degrees, the balls didn’t recover.” Imagine contraceptive underwear being offered for sale at Target as a holiday stocking stuffer.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get the vax and boosters. Excuse me, I’m gonna refresh my coffee. Here’s the music, with a little Letterman and Schaffer. Cheers
He sits and washes
Curls up and sleeps
Runs to the food bowl
And sits and eats
Yawns and stretches
Curls up and sleeps
Begs for treats
Curls up and sleeps
Runs and scratches
Curls up and sleeps
Plays with a toy
Curls up and sleeps
Goes outside
Curls up and sleeps
Comes back in
Sits and eats
Plays on the laptop
Curls up and sleeps
Takes my chairs
Curls up and sleeps
Watches birds and squirrels
Curls up and sleeps
Then sits and washes
Curls up and sleeps
Runs to the food bowl
And sits and eats
Pitter, patter, the cats are at it, running halls like they own them. Greetings to people on the third rock from the sun. Today is Monday, January 10, 2021. The wind abates off and on but the cats remain displeased. Although the sun duly chugged into the sky at 7:39 AM, it did so without great warmth or enthusiasm. The cats don’t like that. “Give me some sunshine,” they meow at me. “Talk to the sun and clouds,” I answer. “I have no hand.”
The sun will hang around until 4:58 PM. The weather isn’t bad despite the cats’ sunshine complaint. Temperature is at 43 F and we expect it to climb to 54 F.
Later, that same day…
The morning was interrupted by phone calls and then it was off to deliver food for Food & Friends. Since the initial words were typed, the weather has improved. Blue has bled through the clouds. Sunshine’s yawn engulfs the valley. We’ve warmed to 54 and the wind has passed to gentle breezes. The cats, however, are indifferent to the changes; they are asleep.
Today’s morning mental music stream resident is Jack Johnson with “Sitting, Waiting, Wishing” from 2005. It’s another cat-inspired choice. While I was doing morning business, the first floof and the floofs-in-waiting sounded off their impatience for morning wet food. Not enough that they have kibble. No, these furry gods also require wet food twice a day, along with royal treats.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get thee the jabs when you can. Time for fresh coffee. Anyone with me? Cheers
Cancflooflation (floofinition) – An event, plan, action, or activity that is stopped due to an animal.
In use: “They’d planned to clean the house but a cancflooflation was made because the cat and dog were sleeping together in a long patch of sunshine and looked so darn cute.”
Peeping Floof (floofinition) – Animal who likes to furtively spy upon others.
In use: “One dog, two cats, one crow, and one squirrel — all were peeping floofs, monitoring every move that Wade made, from the bedroom to the bathroom, kitchen, garage, office — a peeping floof was always monitoring him.”
I am a cat who sleeps about
Going about to where I need to be
To catch a nap in the best position
In the right spot is a hard decision
In warmth and shade
Day and night
Sick and well
I seek what’s right
I sleep about where I need to be
I am cat and that is me
Walking along the streets yesterday, I realize that I’d picked the wrong time of day for a constitutional. It was dinner preparation time. Smells from people’s cooking clouded the air. I swear that I smelled a grilled steak with garlic bread and onions. And here I am, eating nothing but apples.
Stickers on fruit exasperate me. Yes, this is a first world complaint. Two or three stickers are on each apple. Removing them requires some thumb-nailing. One typically comes apart as five or six tiny pieces.
The apple diet is an Edgar Cayce thing. My wife and I discovered Edgar Cayce in our late teens. Cayce was as a clairvoyant who claimed to channel information from his higher self while in a trance-like state. People wrote to him for advice, especially about their health. We came to learn about Cayce through books by Jess Stern.
Cayce made a lot of predictions that didn’t work out. But some of his notions intrigued us, and we adopted some of his eating and healing guidance. One of those things is the apple diet. On it, you eat nothing but apples for three days. You also drink water. Black coffee is permitted, too. The idea is that eating only apples will detox you or cleanse your system of its toxins. We’ve done this diet many times before, but not in several years. Now in our mid-sixties, battened down against COVID-19, limited in diversions because travel is restricted, we thought we’d entertain ourselves by eating only apples. I mean, I’ve been working on a jigsaw puzzle, but the pieces don’t taste as good as apples. I’m doing this to be a supportive husband, though. That’s what I tell myself. Several times a day.
We went out on Thursday and bought a variety of apples totaling enough for two people eating six apples a day for three days. That makes some number that is two times six times three. Beyond that, it’s pretty easy. Put six apples into a bowl each morning. Peel off the stickers, wash it, slice it up, and eat it when you’re hungry.
It’s not bad, as diets go. (That’s what I tell myself. Several times a day.) Limited in scope and duration. Easy to follow. And we like apples. I wouldn’t want to do it for longer than three days, though, although I do like the cleanup. Much easier than the messes made by plant-based burgers, pasta, fish, etc.
The most interesting part of this are the looks received from the cats when I bring in a plate of sliced apples. They’re like “Hey, what do we got?” Sniffing is exercised. Then comes the stare. The stare says, “Seriously? Where’s the real food?” The stare is fraught with betrayal and disappointment.
“I know how you feel,” I answer. Their expressions change to pity. One of them pushed a piece of kibble to me.
Seriously, the apple diet is not bad. That’s what I tell myself. It’s. Not. That. Bad. At least I still have coffee.
