Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Floofployment (floofinition) – Activity one engages in to support, help, or care for animals.
In use: “Unpaid floofployment is common in the U.S. as animals take over people’s homes, and then dominate their lives, but people often feel so enriched by the experience that they’ll sacrifice themselves and their comfort to ensure the floofs are safe, healthy, and happy.
Good mornin’. It’s Friday again, March 24, 2023, for the first time, we think.
Shakers of snow have spilled in several places. Tiny flakes laze from a pewter sky. Sun arrived a while again but the clouds have the numbers. 34 F now, the weather lizards explained with great showmanship it will reach 44 F.
Snow earned the cats’ disapproval. Tucker ate and found a warm space. Papi checked the front, back, front, back, front, back, front, back, and finally accepted that no comforting levels of sunshine could be found. Whiskers drooping in disapproval, he’s lounging on the sofa.
Meanwhile, I’ve retreated to the office with a cuppa coffee. With little solar energy feeding me, I needed a brew stat. Musically, The Neurons have imposed some Green Day in the morning mental music stream. I’m listening to “Holiday” (2005). Written in the aftermath of 9/11 and the retaliatory war started by Dubya’s administration, the songwriter was pissed and let fly his feelings. I shared them, because we were warned about WMD even though just months before, Colin Powell was reassuring us they weren’t there. Cheney had a different feel for it and added by Curveball, pushed for the war. They said it was gonna be a cake walk. Said it would pay for itself. Sure. Yeah, it was all dressed up very pretty in patriotism and UN resolutions, but it never made sense. Still does not.
Here’s the music. I wish you all a happy Friday. Stay pos. Cheers
Petting his cat, he said, “That’s my sweet baby.”
Never mind that the cat is about seven years old, so he’s no longer a baby, but middle-aged. It’s not about the math, anyway. We all know that when it comes to our floofs.
He’d completed the second draft of the novel-in-progress. The Light of Memories.
Being done felt good but odd. Another round of editing and revising was needed, he felt. The Light of Memories has a complicated concept and story because he likes complicated. Huge cast of characters. Several betrayals and double crosses. He felt he’d gotten it all right, but another round wouldn’t hurt.
With a little surprise, he saw in his notes that he’d begun writing the novel on March 20, 2022. One year and two days later, here he was, done with the second draft. It feels very satisfying. He’ll see after the next round.
Now he’d go on a break from it. Let it recede from mind so he sees it with fresh eyes. It’d be hard. He’d been with those characters and their stories almost every day for a year. He was going to miss his time with them. Maybe he would start another novel. He had a dozen other concepts in mind. Had even written opening chapters for half of them. More was teeming in his head.
It felt too soon. Maybe tomorrow.
Maybe not. He’d have some coffee and see.
Tomorrow.
Today is Wednesday, March 22, 2023. That means it’s World Water Day! Children around the world celebrate as water fairies come to them at night and throw water on them. Parents don’t know about the water fairies and accuse the children of wetting themselves. “It was the water fairies,” the children protest. “Don’t lie to me,” parents reply. “There are no water fairies.”
The parents, sadly, are right. No water fairies exist. That’s why we have this international observance. From Wikipedia.org, “World Water Day is an annual United Nations (UN) observance day held on 22 March that highlights the importance of fresh water.” Many around the world don’t have regular access to fresh water, a number that the UN puts at 1 out of every 4. True in the United States, too, which many proudly claim as the world greatest nation. Drought, overuse, and pollution has damaged or destroyed water supplies in the U.S. We’re trying to build them back up and be smarter in our use, but it takes a nation, and we’re pretty divided on matters, even matters like water.
The sun climbed over the hills and mountains east of Ashlandia at 7:08 this morning and will disappear over the Earth’s curvature at 7:26 this evening. Puffy, flat, fragmented white clouds obscure the sun and blue sky. It’ll rain today, the weather fornicators inform us. Current temp is 42 — F, you know — and it’ll climb into the upper fifties, despite the clouds and rain. Not much rain will fall, less than a twentieth of an inch. Upon hearing this, the house floofs, Tucker and Papi, demanded to be let out to enjoy the day before the rain arrived. Smart cats. Yeah.
With talk about rain and water, The Neurons have poured a long list of songs about the subjects into the morning mental music stream. Think about it and you’ll probably find some favorites of your own about rain or water. Elvis P., Deep Purple, Simon and Garfunkel, CCR, BJ Thomas, Joey Bishop, Billy Joel, the Eurythmics, Tina Turner, Eric Clapton, the Beatles, are among the many who had rain or water songs. Those are performers from the first half of my life. Add to them the many, many performers who added more, such as Avril Lavigne, Billie Eilish, and Adele. Rain, water, etc., is a popular theme for music.
In the end, I went with Radiohead, “High and Dry”, 1995. Just like its vibe. Good reflective song, and a solid addition to a cup of coffee.
Stay pos. Begin with the end in mind and make Wednesday worth remembering. I have my coffee, thanks, but I might get a warmer. Stay strong. Here’s the beats.
SPECIAL NOTE: The clouds overtook the sun and the cats have returned to inside the house. Cheers
“Some boy’s bike broke down in front of our house,” she said.
He looked out the window. “Or he pretended to break down so he can spy on us.”
A car pulled up. The driver and pax began chatting with the boy. He responded.
She said, “It looks like his parent is talking to him.”
“Or, some stranger is trying to pick him up.”
While yesterday morning’s dreams upset and depressed me, I found a dream from last night reassuring and energizing. My wife and I were driving in my old Chevy Camaro, a 1968 copper-hued RS with a black vinyl type, black stripes, and a sweet 327.
We were racing down a highway toward a project. The sun was in my eyes, so I constructed a hat with a pole sticking out from it and a small saucer on the end. I’d tilt and turn my head to use the saucer to protect my eyes. Something humorous was written on the saucer and on my hat, subject: beer, but I remember it not. When people read it in the dream, they laughed.
We reached our destination and parked. The project underway involved baking a ton of bread. We were volunteers, working with a local group. Another organization had loaned us their building for the day, a rambling, ramshackle school and industry combo. Built of bricks, following a form follows function straightforward style, inside was a maze of tiled halls and rooms. We found the folks we were working with and began producing bread. It was an odd process of holding small brown balls under a duct until the duct sucked it up. Somewhere/sometime after that, bread was made and delivered elsewhere in the building.
We were put on a break while they checked to see if we’d made our quota of bread. As we stood about and chatted, I spotted smoke coming out of the duct up by the ceiling. I pointed that out, and then flames appeared. A fire extinguisher was brought forward but we were waiting for someone to bring a ladder so we could reach the flames. Meanwhile, the flames were spreading, so I took the fire extinguisher and put out the flames. The guy arrived with the ladder, climbed up and gave it additional precautionary sprays.
We were still waiting for them to tell us we were done but my wife and I were bored and decided to leave. We ran down the halls like children, encountering grade-school children coming in to go to classes. Out into a hot, sunny day, we jumped into the Camaro and took off.
Construction was encountered. Don’t know exactly what was going on, but I kept going at a reduced speed over churned mud. A guy working a machine was met. He would work a little and I would drive a little. I finally reached my turn and pulled off. We were planning to have lunch. Children and cats were running around. I encountered an old teacher of mine. Wearing a red sweater and a skirt, she sat down on a green park bench and invited me to join her. I did, and she started asking me about NFL offensive linemen. I tried changing the subject and then my wife came up and told me we needed to go.
Dream end
The first found me alone, waiting for my wife. She’d been with me and then went off with her friends without saying anything. Her absence deeply aggravated me. As time passed and she didn’t appear, I began collecting papers. Don’t know what they were in RL but they were real and meaningful to me in the dream. At one point, I thought that I would kill one of her friends, blaming her for my wife’s absence. Although I wrote up plans, I knew that was wrong. I wasn’t going to kill anyone else. Maybe I should kill myself, though, the dream me thought.
My wife returned, bubbly, happy, late. Outraged stirred me. Her friend saw my notes and said, “Oh my god, he’s planning to kill me.”
I threw papers aside. “I’m not. Don’t you understand? I was on the verge of killing myself.” Sobs hit me with that declaration.
My wife was stricken. She stared in shock for several long seconds, and then she was gone again. That infuriated me but the dream ended.
I was at work as some corporate drone. I complained to my boss and co-workers that I felt useless, underemployed, and dissatisfied, and that it was draining me. My boss responded by trading me to another company. As the trade was completed, I expressed disbelief, and then was told to go to my new place of employment, which was in another city.
I went there with two other people, who already worked for my new employer. Arriving, I was given a desk and equipment. I complained, though, excuse me, what is my role? Who is my supervisor? Do I supervise anyone? I was answered, “What do you want to do? What have you done in the past?”
I tried answering, enumerating my different positions, employers, etc., which just seemed to depress me. I finished by saying, “You moved me to another city. I don’t know if I want to move. I don’t know if my wife wants to move.” Someone suggested, “Maybe we can get her a job,” and then chatted about that.
The dream ended with nothing resolved.
Michael Seidel, writer 