Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Floofvinist (floofinition) – Showing or having excessive favoritism to a particular animal or group of animals.
In use: “A staunch floofvinist, Belle defended her trio of felines against any suggestions that they were anything but the best cats in the world, especially when some neighbor stormed over with tales about Belle’s kitties violating the neighbor’s flower beds to do their business.”
Floofmaster (floofinition) 1. Animal which is in charge of, or controls, people, or other animals.
In use: “Sherman was a small dog with a deep bark, a large heart, and immense fearlessness, attributes which led him to being an unquestioned floofmaster, instilling neighborhood order, breaking up fights, and fostering friendships.”
2. A person who effectively bridges gaps with animals with words and actions.
In use: “Introduced to animals at a young age, Jill was soon a floofmaster who could calm animals and instill trust, leading her to home the most recalcitrant of animals, animals which would otherwise never know a home.”
Floofophile (floofinition) – A person who greatly admires animals, or favors them in dealings.
In use: “After being friendly with animals for most of his life and a true felinophile since he was a boy, Chas met a woman with dogs and birds, and was overnight a floofophile forever.”
Deeply into revision after letting the novel in progress simmer for a few days. Surprising early cuts come, which weirdly feel ‘natural’. Like the book is already out there, and I’m shaping the manuscript to fit it.
The process is much more involved and slower than the creative writing stage. With the entire story from beginning to end filled in before me, I know how I want to sharpen its focus. Ten pages have been sliced away from the beginning. What remained of that bird required extensive rewriting. It’s like that first draft was an exploration of the history of an event and the characters populating it. Now that I’m familiar with it, I can properly tell the story. From less comes more.
I probably ranted about this before, because I’m a natural ranter.
While inconsiderate/inattentive drivers have long commanded a top spot on my pet peeve register, a new one has steadily climbed the chart. Now I find myself annoyed with people walking while looking at their phone. Don’t know what they’re considering on it – videos, photos, games, text messages, whatever. I guess they think they’re multi-tasking.
Doesn’t matter. What matters to me is that others must move aside for these self-absorbed individuals as they silently peruse stuff while walking. I’m tired of standing aside for these people who don’t even acknowledge others with excuse me or thank you. I’ve now just taken to stopping in their path — which is my path — forcing their attention away from the phone and into the world. And then, when they realize I’m there, I say, “Excuse me.”
I know. It’s petty. Passive aggressive. I accept that. I’m just fed up with standing aside for them. Let them stand aside for me.
Kind of weird to hear “olden times” used in reference to the “yellow pages”.
Mood: focused
I live partway up a hill that heads on to mountains. The street ends a few hundred feet beyond my house. That’s where the city ceases. South of the end in a few miles is where California’s border with Oregon rests. Distant barking, distant sirens, a distant small airplane, distant truck and car sounds, shape the city to my west and north.
It’s a robust 57 F outside. Today’s top end will be 77 F. Fires dot the rugged land east and south of us, feeding us a perpetual smoke diet. Smoke is worst to the west, suffocating towns like Grants Pass and Medford.
A blood red moon rode our night sky last night like some bad omen. Today’s sun is clearer than other recent days, more of a yellow cast to its brilliance. Sunrise is earlier, sunrise is later as the shifts brought up by our journey through the solar system are reinstated again, part of the annual journey. It’s Tuesday, August 29, 2023, in Ashlandia, where the children are polite, and the adults are political.
I don’t know what’s going on with Les Neurons this AM. They’ve switched on Donnie and Marie Osmond’s cover of “I’m Leaving It Up to You” 1974. That was the year I graduated HS and joined the military. Donnie & Marie are not part of my usual musical palette but that was one of the day’s ubiquitous songs in my region. The part which goes, “I’m leaving it all up to you. You decide, what you’re gonna do. Now do you want my love? Or are we through?” That’s how I remember it. Maybe The Neurons are feeling nostalgic for an earlier life period, when I was young and things were simpler. Who knows what those rascals are up to.
Coffee has been picked up, sniffed deeply, sampled for quality. Time to get on it. Stay pos, be strong, and remember, 42. Here’s the music. Cheers
First you must learn how the human body works in general, and what’s expected of it. Then you learn what your body can do, and its exceptions and variations. Then you’re often forced to understand how the body of those you love and support works differently. Few of us have a body that doesn’t come with quirks that split us away from being ‘average’, which becomes specially true as you age, because it changes again. What you could once do or eat is suddenly — and sometimes, dramatically — different.
Michael Seidel, writer 