Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Floofcano (floofinition) – Animal with explosive disposition, or capable of explosive behavior.
In use: “The beagle was a sweet, mild-mannered beast, but a floofcano at heart, exploding in racing ahead and barking whenever he saw a squirrel — and he was always vigilant for one to show up.”
Yes, we’ve made it to Sunday May 9, 2021, and Mother’s Day in America. The sun’s fresh start in Ashland came at 5:56 AM while it will finish its day at 8:19 PM. Fine spring weather has come into the valley for the holiday. Temperatures, as it was yesterday, will creep into the low seventies. The air is clean and fresh.
Learned via correspondence with Mom that she’s going to my sister’s house for the holiday. Sis’s husband, Pat, is going for all the mothers and families. Very sweet of him. They’ve all been vaccinated. I still worry, though. It’s my nature. Locally, COVID-19 cases are declining again after rising throughout April. Two weeks ago, our seven-day average peaked at 49. Yesterday, it was at 33.
Went to ER yesterday. Yeah, wrote and posted about it, to help me process, and I slept in this morning. Anyway, the result left a song about doctors echoing through my mind. Here is Robert Palmer with his 1979 hit cover of, “Bad Case Of Loving You (Doctor Doctor)”.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get the vax.
5:15 PM.
He was thinking, I should call Dad. See if he’s out of the hospital and how the colonoscopy went.
Pain stabbed his pelvis. Sucking in air, he bent down, then controlled his breathing and studied the pain. He’d never felt something from that region before. Seemed too low for gas…but what else could it be? He was a little concerned. He’d already had four bowel movements for the day, one more than normal. All of it looked good (yeah, he looked – always). Everything else felt fine. He checked the area for discoloration, bloating, and tenderness. Nothing but pain.
He remained puzzled. It’d been a good day. He and his wife, Brenda, had done some cleaning, then taken hazardous waste to the White City center. After that, a whimsical stop at Dairy Queen. Been a year since they’d been to one. Brenda ordered a fish sandwich and small Reese’s Blizzard. He ordered a small Thin Mint Blizzard and a cheeseburger. They’d slathered his cheeseburger in mustard and ketchup, ruining the flavor for him. They’d eaten in the car in the parking lot. He usually avoided food like this but it was a whim. An indulgence because he and his wife used to go to DQ on dates. It was the only place to go in their home town back then, two years short of a half century ago. After DQ, they’d gone to the park and read books, then went for a walk.
Now, home, and this pain. The pain was increasing, stabbing through his left side, up his back. Motrin was found and swallowed. He peed…a little. Another bowel movement, very loose, followed.
The pain kept growing. He had Flomax on hand for his BHIP. He was beginning to think kidney stones. Flomax worked on relaxing organs and muscles, allowing an easier urine flow. If he had a kidney stone, maybe Flomax would help pass it. Meanwhile, he’d chugged a liter of water. Increasing, the pain encompassed all of the left side of his lower back and his pelvis. Not his right side, and nothing above his rib cage or in his upper abdomen. It was hours before he was due to take his daily Flomax, but he downed one.
An hour had passed. A little liquid had dribbled out. Oh, no, could this be another blocked urethra? He’d gone through that with his BHP two years ago. But this didn’t feel the same. Maybe memories of it were wrong. But wouldn’t the Flomax give some relief?
8:15, with the pain intensifying and options dwindling, he informed his wife. “Sounds like a kidney stone,” she replied.
He agreed. He thought he could tough it out but the pain was growing. He hated to say it, but he thought he needed to go to the emergency room. She agreed, donned bra and lippy, got her mask, a book, and the car keys. They headed to the local hospital.
An efficient, friendly staff took him in. Each introduced themselves and explained their function. Each came across as intelligent, friendly, and professional.
Meanwhile, he listened in on the patient in the next room. Narco overdose brought in by ambulance. He’d just been in on the twentieth last month for the same thing. He’d gone into the Safeway bathroom, smoked heroin, and passed out. Could he call his wife and let her know he was okay? Were the police coming? No he was assured, they weren’t.
He reflected on the different windows into lives. He never saw the man next door. His voice sounded rough and tired.
He wrote a short short story in his head while he passed the time. Time was spent looking at this vitals. Pulse stayed around 71. O2 saturation was 98 to 100 percent. Blood pressure was 155 over 92, yeah, high, but not a surprise, as his BP always reacts. He takes Amlodipine for it.
Two hours later, after pain meds, urine and blood samples, and CT scans, confirmation came. A 2 mm kidney stone on his left side in the ureter. Another, larger one, in his right kidney.
2mm. He was appalled that a kidney stone had reduced him to this. Collection equipment was given for him take home so the kidney stone could be captured and identified. Oxycodone acetaminophen was issued for pain. Why, wasn’t that the stuff they’d given him for his broken arm last year? He still had twenty tabs of that at home because he’d never taken it. Hell, if he’d just taken on of those… But, really, he didn’t know what was causing the problem. The pain had largely dissipated at this point. Instructions required to drink lots of water. Sure, he understood that.
He got home at 11:30 and peed 250 ml into the bottle. No kidney stone, but no pain. But…pain killers, right? He sat down to catch up on reading the news on his ‘puter and researched kidney stones. The pain crept back in. At 1:30 AM, it struck as it had over eight hours before. He downed a pain killer and a half liter of water. After twenty five minutes, the pain subsided. He fell asleep.
This morning, he felt fine. No pain. He peed into his collection bottle and hunted the stone. Nothing. Maybe the little bugger got away. Maybe it remained in there.
Mild pain oozed out of his right flank.
Wondering if the other kidney was beginning his move, he drank a liter of water.
The kidney stone watch continues…
Floofteau Twins (floofinition) – Formed in Floofmouth in 1979, the Floofteau Twins were a Scottish dream floof (droof) band active to 1997. Their floofthereal sound and soprano vocals earned them praise and recognition as leaders of the droof sub-genre of alt-flock (floof rock).
In use: “The song, “Pearly-Floof Drops”, released in 1994, was the highest chart single for the Floofteau Twins.”
First, I was required to fly an F-16 fighter jet. Flying the F-16 was just the beginning. I was told, not taught, how to do it, and then did it, no problem. Flying it was like walking with my arms extended to me. I delighted in it. Then the troubles began. I was immediately given a mission. It was at night, with bad weather. I rushed to leave, but oh, no, I forgot my oxygen mask and helmet. Couldn’t find them. Someone else, with derision, gave me another. There were a few other small problems but I put them aside and completed the mission.
After landing, I had a black backpack full of money. Well, other things were in there, but I had many stacks of bundled bills, too. I realized that I had to keep an eye on it. Others were present and trying to steal it. I kept catching them at it, so I didn’t lose any money.
Next, I was selected to teach others. We were being taught to teach something that required twelve steps. After we were given cursory instructions in a classroom, we were given a part to teach. My part of it was ‘supply chain logistics’. A class of new adult students were herded in. The class was about fifty. Someone else began teaching their module. The students were disruptive and the new instructor didn’t take control or even introduce himself. He did a poor job, which our teacher pointed out. I was chosen to go next. I began and realized that I didn’t have my notes or my laptop with my slides. No worries, I’d wing it. Two students, a tall male and female, got into an argument. They stood and walked around, shouting. I went to them and told them firmly to sit down. They did, and I resumed teaching. We were forced to move to the left side of the room because someone else needed the other side. People began going in and out of the classroom. I continued trying to teach. The students started interrupting; I restored order among the group and kept going. Half of the students left. The teacher left, and the other instructors left, but I kept going on, talking to them about the importance of communications, including feedback. As I taught them, I became more comfortable and confident, even though the interruptions grew and confusion swirled around the class. Other groups were meeting in the room, forcing me and my students to circle our desks. Weirdly, I wasn’t in the center of the desks, but walking around the outside, talking to the students. They kept trying to play stump the teacher but I wasn’t having it.
That’s when the dream ended. Funny, but in writing this, it seems very short, but it was lengthy and detailed dream, full of interactions with students and outsiders, and details that I used as examples, like types of aircraft, or making a shopping list and sending someone else to the store. A vey involved dream.
Here it is, Friday, the first in the merry, merry, month of May. It’s Friday, May 7, 2021. It’s Mother’s Day this Sunday in the U.S. My card has been sent off, the notes prepared for the call on Sunday to Mom. I don’t think she’ll be doing anything special for Mom’s Day. Three of my sisters live in Mom’s region and generally celebrate holidays together. All of them are moms, and two are grand-moms, and Mom is a great-grandmother. But this is 2021, where COVID-19 continues its reign. They used to all go out to brunch somewhere together for this holiday. I suspect that Mom’s daughters, grand children, and great-grands, will bring food and flowers by for Mom and will visit with her a few at a time.
Clouds moved in yesterday, delivering chilly overnight temperatures but no rain. The sun’s first showing was at 5:59 AM, but did little to warm us, so far. We’ll see what happens between now and 8:17 PM, when Sol announces, “See you tomorrow,” but general consensus is that the highs will be in the low to mid-sixties.
Alarming news came out regarding rain and water for our area. We’re in an extreme drought. Weather conservation and curtailment actions have yet to be enacted locally. They always take a ‘wait and see’ approach until it’s a crises, which serves no one. The area depends heavily on the TID, and the city has been told it’s not getting as much TID as last year. Forty percent has been cut from one contract, while one hundred percent has been cut from the second. Local reservoirs and dams are at bleak levels. I’m breaking out my rain stick. It scares the hell out of the cats, but anything that can help must be done.
Of course, this might be the wrong way to go about it. “Wrong Way” is today’s music choice. At its core, the 1997 Sublime song is about a fourteen-year-old prostitute whose only family is ‘her seven horny brothers and drunk-ass Dad’. The is song is rife with references to doing things the wrong way as the singer rescues her but then mistreats her, himself.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get the vax. That seems to be the right way. Time for my coffee. Cheers
The Flooftains (floofinition) — Formed in 1962 in Flooflin, Irefloof, The Flooftains are a floofditional Irefloofish band. Their name is derived the book, Death of A Flooftain, by John Flooftague. The band began achieving notable international success in the early 1970s and have played with numerous musicians in several genres. Their music has been featured in films as well.
In use: “The Flooftains played at Floof Aid in 1986, a benefit concert in Irefloof organized to raise money for animals in need of help.”
Oh, we’d been working, a long, hard period. There’d been many of us but now…well, the situation was different. Changing parameters meant only five remained, plus the overseers. I didn’t know who any of these were, outside of myself. Selected as one of the final five, I felt privileged and flattered. Then, classic imposter syndrome kicked in. I had no idea of what was going on.
It seemed like different things were ‘going on’. We were trying to help someone else find direction. There was a map to that effect. But we needed to gain their trust. Also, how did we convey map directions to them? Borders and other problems precluded simple, direct methods.
A huge map dominated one wall. I was summarizing to myself. Fix the borders. Define them. Find the person we were to help. Gain their trust. Get them over the border.
The map seemed to be taking shape. Mountains dominated — very mountainous place. We were adding borders but I stayed mystified. Why were we the ones finding the borders? Didn’t the borders already exist? Asking these questions, I learned in roundabout manner, the borders were known but were lost, so we’re recovering them.
We thought we’d done a pretty good job. Black borders were drawn in, though some areas, like in the south, remained open.
But the overseer was furious. She told us, “You’ve drawn a face.” I looked at the map but didn’t see it. “These are not the borders. You’re running out of time. What is wrong with you? Get it done.”
This berating restored my bewilderment and confusion. Worse, to me, it seemed to make sense to the other four. But I couldn’t comprehend it. What was wrong with me?
I was beginning to feel left out. Abandoned. The other four turned attention to drawing the other to us and gaining his trust. I was befuddled about who the other was. They all knew and seemed to think that I should know. With some surprise and suspicion, I thought a few of the other five were different people. When did that happen? Had they changed?
One stormed in with an idea. He — the one we were trying to lure to us — whoever that was — was a Niki Lauda fan. While I knew about Niki Lauda, this revelation only deepened my confusion. But, wanting to belong, I spouted Niki Lauda info that I knew. Niki Lauda, young scion of a wealthy family. Getting a loan to go racing. Racing in the seventies and eighties. Three time Formula 1 world champion. Big accident, almost killed. Retired from racing, had a failed business, Lauda Air, returned to racing. Also raced BMWs, didn’t he?
Wasn’t sure about that last but saying these things earned a greater measure of trust from the other four. We decided that we needed to rest. There was one bed. The five of us got into it together and rested, shoulder to shoulder on our backs, like we were in coffins. None of us slept. We were too keyed. So much remained to be done. What else did we need to do? The time was almost upon us.
I still didn’t know much but I felt better because I was more accepted and included by the rest. One would always pause to ensure that I was there whenever they went off to do something else.
We had some sort of breakthrough. The end was near. Naturally, I didn’t understand. We were so tired and hungry by then. Going to a new location, a venue where a celebration had been held, we stole in to find food and drink. You can’t be in here, we were told. You must leave. But another said, you can come in.
We went in. A woman came over and told us that we must leave. Another came in and told her that we could stay for a few minutes. She also said there was leftovers for us to eat. They had chicken. Would I like chicken?
Yes, I said. They brought me a bucket. Here’s a piece in here for you, I was told. That’s not chicken, I thought as I picked it up. Something about what it was made me not want to eat it. One of the other four said they would eat it, and took it from me. He tore into it. Rabbit, we all realized, it was a fried rabbit breast. Why would they tell us it was chicken? They lied to us.
I shuffled into another place. There, I saw people dressed in very fancy evening dress who’d been present for a celebration. The celebration was over. They were preparing to leave. A server, male, in white coat and black bow tie, brought me a cup and shot glass on a gold tray. He spoke soothingly to me as he poured a clear liquid in the shot glass and espresso into the cup. I told him I couldn’t drink that now. He reassured me, firmly stating, “Oh, you need to drink both of these now.”
Dream end.
