Don’t you hate it when you click on an internet link to read an article or post elsewhere, and there is no sign of said article or post on that page, or it’s there, but buried in a blizzard of ads, buttons, splash pages, and noise?
Yeah, WTF?
Floofpentine
Floofpentine (catfinition) – the figure-eight winding to rub against legs and objects that cats do.
In use: “Tail up, Quinn took a floofpentine route from the room’s exit to its other end, visiting with people along the way.”
Inspirational Quote # 874
Yep. I always hold to this, and it’s good to read it coming from a writer I enjoy.
The Wave
I ride the wave of words until the surf crests and curls, breaking on the beach and dribbling up the sands. As the wave retreats, I consider the body of today’s output and the state of myself and my rising hunger, check the time and announce, done.
Another enjoyable day of writing like crazy has reached an end.
Eighty-five
She was eighty-five, and didn’t want it announced. “I don’t tell people my age. Most people look at you differently when they find out you’re eighty. They assess you with a completely different approach, amazed how well you are, or sympathetic because you’re growing old.”
I understood. I’d felt the same about being sixty.
Catcerdotal
Catcerdotal (catfinition) – of or relating to felines.
In use: “Stepping into utility room, we discovered a trove of catcerdotal items.”
The Dare
It was such a small matter.
He said, “I’m going to go check the mail.” Musing about his phrasing, he reached for his shoes. He was not “checking the mail,” he was getting the mail. Odd, they always said, “Check the mail.” Where had that originated?
She said, “I dare you to go like that.”
Stopping, he looked at her. “Like what?”
“In your socks.”
He thought a moment. “Without shoes?”
“Yes.”
“What will you give me?”
As she considered her answer, he considered the temperature. It was thirty-five, but it was dry. “Okay,” he said.
She grinned. “You’re an idjit.”
Yes, he agreed, without speaking, leaving the house. It felt odd to be in his socks, walking on the sidewalk and up the asphalt street, different from being barefoot. His feet seemed to make a different side.
The cats followed him, of course. He saw several neighbors, of course. He waved and nodded to them. He didn’t know if they noticed he was wearing socks but not shoes. What did it matter?
It was a small matter, but it felt so very good.
In the Wings
She waited, not moving, listening for her cue as time moved forward. She was still outside, hanging on against the churning energy within her.
“If people saw inside me,” she said to herself, “they would see raging seas with towering, thundering waves and almost continual lightning and thunder. If people saw inside me, they would be awed. Many would be afraid. But those who knew, who were stronger — ”
The countdown shunted her thinking aside. She listened as the ball dropped. Then, as they shouted, “Happy New Year,” she strutted out, the first female year ever, passing the poor old year as he shuffled out, bent and wrinkled, bearded and male, off to the Home of the Old Years. She would be there in one year — the first female there, too — but one year was a lot of time.
Time enough to make some changes, fix some wrongs, and establish some new rights.
Michael Seidel, writer 