Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Floofflee (floofinition) – When one or more animals run, fly, or swim away at great speed from a real or perceived threat.
In use: “Michelin was a large dog with a muzzle greyed with time, but he could floofflee with the best whenever booms broke the air, no matter their source.”
56 degrees F at this moment. Expecting the mid to upper 80s before the sun’s Ashlandia sojourn ends. It’s Friday, My 12, 2023.
Today’s heat is a prelude to a week of it. What irritates about many of these weather changes is how it jumps into hot weather and collapses into chilly weather with little warning. Why can’t we hit the middle ground and stay there for a while.
I know, I whine a lot. Everyone complains about the weather but nobody does anything. I said it here first…
I’m feeling better in a psyche way today. Dropped some anxiety and stress. I naturally gravitate to being those things although I’m weirdly known for being calm in an emergency. Three things resolved that were affecting my stress and anxiety. Got my retired military ID — now known as a an Identification and Privilege Card — issued at last. Been trying for almost a year. Picture looks pretty good, too. Look like a sea captain in it.
Second, first annual physical since I passed 65 years old. Hell, first annual physical in a looonnnggg time. Nothing untoward discovered. As part of my general hypertension, I suffer white coat syndrome. Getting the appointment out of the way was a relief although they IMMEDIATELY scheduled one for next year, so I’ve got THAT to worry about.
Third, sadly but painfully true, is that the death watch for Uncle Bill is over. Reminders of immortality, sadness about changes, another milestone in growing older all seen and felt with one strike.
I was watching my boy, Papi, an aloof ginger floof, as he watched the street traffic yesterday. He can’t help but get into a position to see what is making that noise? What is coming? Then, as the noise-maker closes in — runner, biker, walker — with or without dog — street cleaner, he turns and flees to the porch’s safety, hides behind a post and leans around, continue to watch. If he sees me watching, he comes over to be let in, and then walks around the house demanded to be let outside. The back door is open this morning, letting him come and go.
Weird song The Neurons thrust into the morning mental music stream. From 1967, it’s called “Tin Soldier” by Small Faces (not to be confused with “One Tin Soldier”, which is a totally different song). The roots to hearing it today aren’t clear. Although I had disturbing dreams, I can’t pinpoint anything from them which would call the song out. My best guess is that the mid to late 1960s was time spent around Uncle Bill, so the The Neurons expanded the sphere, bringing this song in.
Stay pos, if you can. Can be difficult, I understand. I think a cuppa coffee is in order for me now. Let the pouring commence. Here’s Small Faces. See you on the flipside.
Cheers
Alexa said, “Your cat, Papi, is at the front door asking to enter the house.” He answered, “Open the door and let Papi in, please.”
“Letting Papi in,” Alexa replied.
It’s really the best thing that Alexa does for him.
And then he woke up.
Well, the sky is blue and ripe with sunshine. It’s fine weather, even though Uncle Bill passed away at midnight last night. Heart failure. He was a good person and being related to him is an honor. Not much else I can but celebrate his life and go on.
It’s 62 F right now. 75 F is expected later today, 80 Friday, 90 — some say 97 — an Saturday, kicking off a week of temperatures dancing between highs in the upper 80s to mid 90s. Appears summer is crowding into May. This is May 11, 2023.
It’s also my older sister’s birthday. Happy b’day, sister! She’s two years older than me and about eight inches shorter, and I’m only 5’8″. She’s a grandma several times over and living the life in a suburb outside of Atlanta, Georgia.
Learning of Uncle Bill’s end of life encouraged The Neurons with a 1986 Phil Collins song, “Take Me Home”. I may not be alone in this, but I’d loved to be back in that time when I regularly saw Uncle Bill, and he was young, and I was younger, and both of had forever ahead of us. Death is natural and regular, but always stirs memories up from the well’s bottom and yearning for the times and places I most enjoyed.
On a lighter note, got my new military ID today. Yes, I’m retired, but the card ‘expired’ when I turned 65, something put in place to force retirees to sign up for Medicare, which becomes the primary healthcare for vets of a certain era. Getting the card is hard. Limited places to get it in Oregon. Local Medford guard unit provides walk-in service. Well, that’s easy, isn’t it? No. The onerous system complicates matters. People line up, waiting to get in, as he goes through the process of connecting, entering data, verifying info, registering fingerprints, taking the photo, and then finally printing out the new card and verifying that its chip works. Today was my ninth visit to get ‘er done. Tried too, when I was in PA last year, where they are by appointment only. No appointments were available at any of the three nearby sites. Morgan, the infantry man who mans the office, shared several horror stories about people’s efforts to get a new card. Congratulations to him, too, who is retiring after twenty, but staying on to do the same job as a civilian. He seems pretty pleased.
Have some coffee and stay pos. Enjoy your life and forge ahead as you can. Here’s the music. Cheers
My wife exercises three mornings a week. Been doing this since we moved to Ashlandia in 2005. Friendships have developed through the years. A coffee clatch after class — which I call the zoo — was added a decade ago.
Today, she came in and handed me half a package of Trader Joe’s dark chocolate espresso beans.
“Where’d you get these?” I asked.
“Deborah. She said she can’t stop eating them so she’s giving them away. Everyone took what they wanted and told me to take those home to you.”
“That’s kind of her.” I sampled three.
OMG good. I understand Deborah’s decision. The damn things are addictive.
One of the finest aspects of having a partner is the impact it has on learning and memory. In my case, this spot is filled with my wife, a woman. She’s smart, reads many books, and researches matters. Most of which she researches involves women rights, social justice, and health. She shares all that she learns with me, often piquing my interest to go read more on the subject. Not infrequently, some of what she teaches me ends up in some character in a story. For instance, she taught me two things today.
We also act as memory augmentation for one another, covering the other’s weakness. She’s great with social memes, voices, faces, poetry, cooking and baking. I’m passable with math, science, history, pop culture, and technology. It works.
I think it’d work for most, regardless of gender or pronoun, sexual orientation, and maybe even political persuasion. Everyone should at least should not have the right to try taken away from them. Who knows what we all could learn?
He saw a window sticker on a car’s back window. It originally said Southern Oregon University. Some letters were lost, rendering it as uthern Oregon University. Now he couldn’t stop wondering about uthern Oregon, wondering, where was it? What was it like?
Someday, he vowed, he would find uthern Oregon and the university. The journey might require some drugs.
The sun bulled its way over the horizon and into Ashlandia’s sky a few ticks before six AM. It’s Tuesday, May 9, 2023, and 45 degrees F out there. Rain deliveries through the past five days have encouraged the town to show off multiple greens. Jade, emerald, pine, leafy, grassy — the greens flourish under the immaculately blue sky. Not promising anything, the weather criers say, but it’ll be in the upper sixties today. The sun’s end time in Ashlandia’s environs will be after eight this evening.
Went walking yesterday, a favorite pastime. Two miles, one and a half of it in steady rain. Lovely. Got home wet with rain and sweat. Lovely. Felt good to be back in the rain and feel the sweat dripping and rolling, plastering my hair under my hat.
I continue scoring on the dream front. Last night brought visits from Sean Penn and Brad Pitt. Woke up chuckling to myself, mumbling, that was a great dream. Then I went through it, writing it all down after I got up, one of three dreams covered in today’s dream journal entry.
The cats are adjusting to the improved weather. So are other cats. Thus there was floof showdown on the front porch. A young gray cat has been showing up around the neighborhood for the last two months. Seems healthy, but just going around doing feline business. They’ve encountered Papi the ginger wonder before, but apparently last night was a surprise for the two and face to face. It’s post event speculation for us. We only know that the floof warnings went off like air-raid sirens for the Battle of Britain. Dashing to the front door, we saw the two. Of course, Tucker, the black and white lord of thunder heard it all and galloped out, too, shouting, “To battle.” Seeing the situation, gray cat departed. Papi pursued but lost the trail. He and Tucker took up stations to ensure they’d be there, should the interloper return.
Today’s music comes from “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel”. We’ve been watching it recently and have plowed into the third season. The song, by the Poppy Family, is “Where Evil Grows” and was put out over fifty years ago. I heard it on the radio a few times back then before it disappeared. But it shows up on television shows and movies once in a while, never on the radio, that I ever hear. Anyway, hearing it enlivened The Neurons, and they plugged it into the morning mental music stream, advertising it as nostalgia. The song’s writer is Terry Jacks, better known for “Which Way You Going, Billy” and “Seasons in the Sun”.
Ah, the train is rolling through, tooting its own horn, ensuring everyone is aware of its royal self as it rumbles through town. Stay pos, keep living the good life and fighting the good fight, wherever it may take you. My efforts are taking me to the coffee. Here’s the tune. Give it a listen. Cheers
He finished his writing session and stood. Glancing to the neighbor on his left, he saw that the man was writing music. Peering at the sheet more closely, he wondered how it sounded.
If he could only read music…
Michael Seidel, writer 