Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Theocfloofcy (floofinition) – Households in which animals are treated as divine rulers.
In use: “Many people are unwilling to admit it, but once they accept an animal into their household, they begin living under a virtual theocfloofcy, where the pets’ and their desires gain preferential status.”
Welcome to Sunday, so named for that star that dominates the Earth sky and our lives. The star cranked over the Oregon horizon on this 21 of March, 2021, at 7:13 AM and will remain with us until 7:23 PM. Chilly air and rain are prevalent with a temperature of 40 degrees F. Yesterday turned out okay though, presenting us a rain, sun, and mist blend and a comfortable low fifties temp. I hope today will do the same.
Little heavy-hearted today. Another friend went into hospice. Not COVID-19 related; just life. A good person, with a satisfying joie de vivre, I haven’t seen him in a year. My sadness is for him, enduring pain and realizing his end is approaching, and his family. My sadness is also that I won’t be able to enjoy his company in the future, and that will leave a hole. His body has been slowly giving up on him, a matter that’s accelerated since the turn of the year. We hope to do at least one Zoom call with him before his final breaths.
Meanwhile, my wife and I slipped out to the store yesterday. We did this in the afternoon, in broad daylight (love that expression). This is unusual for us; we typically scurry in and our either very early or very late, when fewer people are about. But, yes, we’re growing weary, perhaps jaded about COVID-19. Plus, we’re optimistic. Cases have been trending down in our state, county, and town, since about January’s middle. More folks are vaccinated. We’re still wearing masks. Well, in grocery stores we are, which is where we were yestiday.
You might think we’re crazy. Getting a little wild. None of that is true. Yeah, you knew that. But laughing with my wife, joking about being such ‘risk-takers’, brought the 1984 Cars song, “You Might Think” out of my mind’s dusty crevices and up into the musical crease. Thought it would be a fine Sunday theme song. You might think I’m wrong. That’s your right.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get the vax. Cheers
Digital lapse was endured.
Familiar with it? That’s when you click or press and nada takes place. But, being experienced, you know that something has taken place. It’s just not revealed. Novices will think nothing has happened and press buttons or click more. The clicks and taps accumulate, causing a crash or a sudden surge of activities that take you to somewhere that you don’t want to be, digitally speaking, like the wrong screen.
I’m not a novice. I’ve been clicking remotes on digital devices for a decade. Digital lapse is an old adversary. I experience it most with our streaming devices for viewing television shows and movies. Disney Plus is the worst offender in my current stable of providers. But finally I was on the screen where “The Mandalorian” was being offered. One blessing from the Disney Plus site is that it doesn’t immediately start playing trailers. It’s just quiet. Waiting.
I jumped up and set down the remote. Head down, a cat eyed me, ears moving toward my racket. “Popcorn?” I moved around my desk.
We were in the office. We are spoiled people. Although we have a sixty-five inch curved-screen 4K ultra-high definition smart TV in the living room, with surround sound, we do ninety percent of our television viewing in the home office. My wife calls it the snug. A twenty-seven inch flat screen television is mounted on one wall. My desk faces it. So does a recliner in the corner. My wife reclined there. Busy with a game on her AirMac or whatever her Apple machine is called, she nodded.
Making popcorn has become simple. Back when I was a child, popping corn required oil, popcorn, and a big black cast iron Dutch oven. Oil was spread across the bottom. The Dutch oven’s bottom, not mine. You know, inside it. Heat applied. Three kernels were dropped in. A lid applied. The kernels were monitored. Once they popped, kernels were poured in and spread across the hot oil, covering the bottom. Lid applied, a pot holder was acquired. I’d stand there, shaking the Dutch over as the kernels popped.
Jiffy Pop changed it. No need to pour everything. Just peel off the cardboard lid, hold the tin pan over the flame, and shake as the kernels cooked and the foil cover rose.
Microwaves changed it up again. We experimented with several methods before Pop Secret came along. It was just a folded bag. Put it in the microwave, one side up, and press the button. Then monitor as the popping proceeded.
Monitoring has remained the constant. The popcorn was always being monitored. Was that the last pop? Time to stop.
Deciding that we didn’t like that kind of microwave popcorn, our household had regressed back to where I’d started, oil in pan, kernels, lid, popping, add corn, lid, shake. No longer, though. We’d acquired a silicon microwave popcorn maker last year. No oil. Pour the popcorn in to the line. Apply silicon lid. Turn microwave on for four minutes. Monitor. Is that the last pop? Count to five.
It’s amazingly simple, quiet, and easy. So is clean up. I fear that it won’t last. News will break. Scientists will announce that radicalized burrblelons released from the silicon attacks your nervous system when you ingest popcorn made in such a manner. That’s how everything seems to be: something good is found and announced. We like it. Then we discover it’s bad for you or the world.
I poured the popcorn into bowls, flavored it with nutritional yeast, cleaned out the silicon popper and put it away, and headed back to the snug.
The cat had taken my seat. Curled up tightly, he didn’t bother looking up. Ears and tail were still. His eyes were closed. Probably pretending to be asleep.
Dropping to my knees on the carpet beside him, I picked up the remote and pressed play. Digital lapse was endured. Then the show began.
Socflooftes (floofinition) – 1. Wise animal said to have lived before animals came to Earth, said to be one of the original architects of the Floof Exchange which allowed animals to come to Earth.
In use: “Flooftologists argue what species of animal Socflooftes was, and what sex. For convenience, Socflooftes is often referred to as a male but no evidence exists to support that he was identified as either sex. As for what manner of creature, a dragon, unicorn, or griffin is often mentioned. As there is anecdotal history to support each of those, one theory holds that Socflooftes was a shapefloofer, able to assume the shape of any creature. Some say that Socflooftes remains alive and sometimes visits Earth.”
2. Any smart or clever animal.
In use: “The bird demonstrated that she was a soclooftes as a video caught her opening her cage, feeding the cat and dog treats, then returning to her cage and locking herself back in.”
Qafloof (floofinition) – Discredited and scurrilous anonymous organization who foment theories and lies aimed to undermine animals’ fair treatment, health, and safety.
In use: “Qafloof adherents often believe that animals lack souls and intelligence, can’t experience emotions, and are unworthy of kindness and protection.”
I’ve been listening to interviews via podcasts and Youtube for the past two weeks and distilled some essential truths. I knew these but have never paused to write them down. Thought I’d do that today. Here it is, the culmination of a hours of interviews with writers, editors, and agents.
That’s short of ten. Tell me your writing truths. Help me fill in my list. Cheers
Papafloof (floofinition) – Senior male animal who becomes the father figure for other animals.
In use: “When rescue kittens were brought in to be fostered, big Beau, the tough, menacing retired K-9 German Shepherd, became papafloof, licking the little felines clean, watching over them when they slept and played, protectively cupping them with his big body, gently guiding them with his enormous paws and snout.”
I will watch this basket of hats and scarves for you…zzzzz…
A wide selection of remembered dreams fill me this morning. Two acquired prominent positions so I’ll relate them.
The first was about a foot race. Younger, I was gathered along with about twenty other young men. I’d hazard that we were in our late teens/early twenties. We’d just run qualifying races that were one lap (don’t know the distance). Now we were to run the real race of five laps. For some reason, a staggered start was employed. Basically, I was required to wait for my name to be called, then put on my shoes and start running.
Young women of about the same age were in bleachers to watch and cheer us on. Hearing my name, I slammed on black running shoes and took off. I ran hard without breathing hard or breaking a sweat, passing competitors with impressive ease. Finishing, I was surprised, thinking, “Already? That was it?” Thinking that I’d won, or at least finished in the top three – hard to say because the staggered stop meant that we were being judged on time, not track position — I sought the results but couldn’t find anyone willing to give official results.
The next dream found me visiting the parents of childhood friends. I was a young adult; they were of the age they were when I knew them. I snuck into their brick two story house because I’d heard they had a boat in their basement, and I wanted to see their boat. Getting down there, I discovered, yes, they’d constructed a large sail boat in their basement. Admiring its white and blue hull, I circled the boat, astonished by their accomplishment, and perplexed about why they’d build a boat in their basement.
I realized I needed to get home. It was already late evening. The sun had set and I had several miles to go. I didn’t want to walk in the dark. Going upstairs, I found friends from my current life. I asked if I could get a ride with them. One answered, “Yeah, I have my car. You can ride with us.” His car, I knew, was a dark green 1970 Ford LTD. “But you need to wait,” he told me. “It’ll just be a little longer, then we’ll be done.” They were playing with Excel spreadsheets. I began playing with them, too, but didn’t know what I was looking at, and became bored. That’s when the dream ended.
Tree beats car. Had some heavy winds Sunday night/Monday morning. Neighbors a hundred feet down the road experienced the results. No one hurt.
The wind’s snarling awoke me during the night. Then it seemed to quiet before developing into a weird, undulating whine just before daybreak. Listening to this, I thought, that sounds like someone using a power saw. Turned out, it was.
This was down at the bed and breakfast occupying the corner of Siskiyou and Clay Street. Both of the damaged cars park on Clay, across the street from each other. I live up Clay, for perspective.
Photos were taken in the late afternoon when I went walking. We first saw the damages that morning when we left to deliver for Food & Friends.
