Floofuary

Floofuary (floofinition) – A period when animals’ boredom rises and they sleep more, usually in response to colder weather and shorter periods of daylight.

In Use: “In the northern hemisphere, Floofuary tends to kick in a few weeks before the year’s end as cats and dogs decide to quit venturing outside to test the temperature and just curl up and sleep, only rising to eat.”

In Use: “Bucking trends, some thick-furred animals are thrilled when Floofuary arrives, racing around through snow with utter abandonment and pure joy, dismissive of ‘cold’ weather.”

Recent Use: “Facebook posts become rich with videos of animals encountering snow for the first time when Floofuary strikes, amusing us all as animals chase flakes or become snow covered.”

No Lost Sleep

Rudy Giuliani was found guilty of defaming Ruby Freeman and her daughter, Shae Moss, two voluteers at a Georgia voting station. As punishment, a jury decided he should pay the two volunteers $148,000,000.

Good. I have no sympathy for Rudy and will lose no sleep over this verdict. I hope it’ll teach him a lesson and shut him up, but that would be logical, and Rudy’s behavior has gone over the logic cliff.

Friday’s Wandering Thoughts

I had a terrific workout this morning, focusing on balance, coordination, strength, and flexibility — and successfully got my underwear on. Damn things seem to have a mind of their own and mos def did not want to be near my body.

I empathize with them.

Friday’s Theme Music

Mood: sparkling

Chilly 34 F this morning, but sunshine and blue sky rule the space above the trees and mountains around Ashlandia, where the service is above average and the menus are varied. Peak temperature will be 56 F. Unlike yesterday, spring isn’t hovering in the air; it is a hazy shade of winter.

Today is Friday and this is December 15, 2023. We’re halfway through December once we pass midday. But sixteen days remain for 2023. 2024 is coming. So is winter for us in the northern hemisphere. I’m really surprised by how little snow has visited us here. That doesn’t bode well for next year’s water supply.

I don’t think I mentioned that we made our crock pot candy the other night. Pounds of nuts, bark, peanut butter chips, and milk and semi-sweet chocolate melted and stirred together and then plopped out on wax paper. Well, from many pounds of ingredients comes many pounds of candy. We bagged them up in a seasonal look and shared with others. Fourteen of my beer drinkin’ friends were gifted the treats. My wife calls them addictive. Several recipients emailed me to agree, and some even called them divine. Just tastes like the old Goo-Goo Clusters to me, minus the middle maple or vanilla.

Musically, The Neurons have surprised me with a gift song in my morning mental music stream (Trademark digitized) from an album by The Who, Quadrophenia, which was released in 1973, yeah, fifty years ago. Today’s song is “The Real Me”, a classic Who rocker — loud guitars, screaming vocals, and lots of drumming, but this one features the bassist, Entwhistles, basically doing lead guitar guitar on his bass. So cool to a teenager about to breach adulthood, and I still enjoy it. I also included a cut from the movie which resulted from the album.

The song choice by my head makes sense though in the context of our times. We always want to know who are celebrities are and what they’re really like. Beyond pop culture, we’re hunting the truth in our political leaders, too. Many will claim to be one thing, claiming they’re compassionate and religious and go to church regularly, regaling us with tales of principles and bravery, but their actions betray their claims. Meanwhile, others are maligned, being called liars and criminals despite lack of evidence. And then we meet people, or have relationships with others in which it seems like something shady is going on. Can I see the real you? I don’t know; many have become clever chameleons.

Be brave and strong and true and positive. Lean forward as others have done in our past to bring about better terms and conditions for living the best way possible. Keep advancing.

Here’s the music. There’s my coffee. Hey, ho, let’s go. Blitzkrieg Friday. Cheers

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.

Strange Dream

Last night’s dream had me alone and reclined in a large black chair in a dim black and gray room, which seemed to be my home office. The lights moved around me like dull spotights. I felt almost conscious but caught in some vague vortex. The room spun and flipped upside down, confusing my orientation. I became warm and flushed. Trying to awaken, I wondered if this was real or a dream. Both felt correct. I don’t think it lasted more than ninety seconds. When it ended, I seemed to drop into a deep sleep.

Awakening this morning, I was amazed by how well I felt. Refreshed, with a high energy level, and invigorated mind. No pain or stiffness anywhere. It felt like I’d been mystically treated for my health challenges while I slept. I don’t know how long this feeling, like I’m ten years younger or me, will continue, but I will enjoy it as long as I can.

Thursday’s Wandering Thoughts

I realized after a conversation last night that I was taught to hold the door for others — man, woman, child, animal; say please and thank you; always put the toilet seat down; and clean up after yourself.

I think about them as I do them, and why I do them. What I like best is that others usually thank me for holding the door, and others often hold the door for me. That’s the kind of place I’d like us to be. At least it’s a start. Then we can build off that.

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.”

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