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The Diva Dream

I was on a school campus. Lovely place, green squares, well-maintained, with sidewalks bisecting the space between beautiful red-brick buildings.

Lot of people were milling around. We were all in uniforms, a forest green with small blue piping around the neck and where it buttoned down. I had three jobs. One, I was cleaning. Two, I was checking on people. Three, I was finishing song lyrics and jingles for them.

All was going fine. Then an exercise break was called. And the instructor (who reminded me of Lou Gossett, Jr.) said, “Come on, all you divas come up here.”

Being called a diva annoyed me. I’d never acted like a diva. To prove that point, I decided to act like a diva. Apparently, acting like a diva includes not wearing any pants.

People pointed it out. “You’re missing your pants.”

“I know. I’m a diva.”

Others pressed me, you’re not wearing pants because you’re a diva? “Yes, divas are different. I’m a diva, so I’m being different.” I had a long shirt on but no pants and underwear.

Light exercises were done. I did some of them, but, “I’m a diva,” so I didn’t fully participate, instead interrupting proceedings, exasperating the instructor. He and I then began playing a ball game. Sometimes it was a football, being tossed and kicked; other times, we hit or threw baseballs. Although people of my age (I was in my twenties), males and females, and several ethnicities and races, it was only the instructor and I playing.

Then one of his hit balls landed onto the roof of a tall building behind me and bounced over onto the other side. I’d been warning him that it was going to happen; now it had. As I made ready to go around and get it, he ordered everyone, “Let’s all go to the other side.”

His decision threw me off. I didn’t understand why we all needed to go. I was just going to get the ball. But he announced, “We’ll exercise on this side.”

This side was the street side. Other students, organized in groups, were running toward us (they were running groups). Suddenly, I was embarrassed by my lack of pants and underwear, and tried pulling my shirt down to cover myself. And, suddenly (as it happens in dreams), my shirt was shorter, coming just halfway down my butt. Damn it, I didn’t want all these other people gawking at me. As I tried covering up by stretching my shirt down and squatting, the dream ended.

In the end, it’s pretty classic as dreams go, innit?

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Floofrobics

Floofrobics (floofinition) – Exercise done by chasing or interacting with an animal.

In use: “Although she had an hour commute and first needed to shower, dress, and put on a face (she was a bank director, after all), and take care care of the children (well, they were of an age when they were mostly taking care of themselves, getting ready for school, eating, etc.), she always took a few minutes at the beginning for floofrobics with the puppies, Borg and Seven. It lifted her energy like two cups of coffee. And then she made coffee.”

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Looking Out

Looking out the window

at the cars parked like graves

wondering who else is looking out

unseen behind distant glass

as we all look out for one another

looking out for the virus

looking out for a change.

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Out

A soft drizzle played with light and horizons outside the car windows. Across the valley, sunlight was reflected over new spring growth — wineries and fields.

We drove about. What businesses are open? How is traffic?

The Subway sandwich job was open. Yumberry Yogurt. Grocery stores (Albertson’s, Safeway, Shop n’ Kart, Market of Choice, Minute Market). Pizza places and coffee shops had open signs annotated with “Take Out”. The grocery stores were moderately busy. Didn’t see customers at the rest.

Deer were plentiful, as if they appreciated people not being around. Cars plied the roads (maybe like us, or maybe people still working), but it was about twenty percent of what we’d usually see, making it pretty empty. (No traffic knots today.) (We don’t really get ‘traffic jams’ in our small city, except when roads are closed for parades.) The schools were silent and shut. A few pedestrians walked the sidewalks. Runners (in their twenties, males). We wondered, are those runners related? They’re not six feet apart. What’s their take on the coronavirus and flattening the curve?

We’d communicated with relatives in Florida. They’d spent the previous day visiting with friends and walking the beach. Had they stayed six feet apart? No. They’d had dinner at another friend’s place. We’re shocked. Yet, more came: a friend, bored up north, had come down and was staying the night with one. SOH. 

Up Laurel, past a church. People were lined up. Backpacks were on many. Some looked like a shower or bath would be welcomed. In the church’s courtyard, a table was set up, the line’s terminus. Hundreds of stuffed brown paper bags filled the table. Two women stood behind it. Meals and supplies being given out to the needy, we assumed.

Around the corner, and then we descended into the park. More deer. One man walking. Three porta-potties had been set up, along with two wash stations.

Up to the plaza, onto the main drive. Businesses were closed and dark (except for a few restaurants). Parking was plentiful (yeah, dark humor).

The streets and sidewalks seemed clean, tidy, and expectant, as if they waited for everyone to come back. When would that happen? We wondered, driving home, the short tour ended.

Back in the car, the car’s interior and outside door handles were wiped down. Gloves, shoes, and jackets removed. We hadn’t been outside, just in the car.

Still, we hear, something could be in the air and settle on the surfaces. Better be safe.

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Six Days of Fun

We finished puzzle number seven today. It was definitely my favorite. Vivid colors and well-shaped interlocking pieces (and none missing) made it challenging but fun and satisfying.

We’ll probably take two days off (that’s our norm so far) before beginning another.

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A CBD Update

I have cats.

That’s my human POV. The cats put it, I have a human. The cats say, I make demands, play with things (because I’m booored), and show affection (sometimes offering my human a gift), and in return, the humans feed, shelter, protect, care for me, and give me a body to sleep on so I don’t get cold. As a human, I say, aren’t they sweet?

The cats, smugly, nod, their eyes hooded: yes, we know.

Some of my little felines have issues. After inquiries and research, I decided to attempt a CBD course. The inquiries didn’t do a lot to reassure me about what was going to happen; neither did the research. They’re cats; they’re as individual as humans and offer less insights (and more cryptic insights) into how they’re feeling. Eventually, I purchased Sun God CBD Heka Pet Oil. It’s available locally. Friends swear by it.

Boo’s stress and anxiety drives my feline CBD attempts. Boo, an older cat with a mysterious history, huffs, hisses, panics, and swats at everything. You never know what’ll set him off. His back fur by his rear has matted. Always a large cat (and, we suspect, arthritic), he can’t groom that area. During the consecutive years of wildfire and smoke-filled air, all the cats (except young, short-haired Papi) (aka Meep) developed matting. With everyone except Boo, we bought sprays and used those in conjunction with scissors, brushes, and combs to remove their mats and restore their gloss.

Can’t do it with Boo. He ducks hands, although he’s come to tolerate our petting and stoking. (But beware of going close to his matted fur!) Hairbrushes? No! Hiss, snap, swat, run away, run away, run away, run away. Scissors?

I dare you.

His mats are so bad, they’re like a hard hump on his back (for which we cruelly call him Humpback). You know it has to be bothering him. We have great ideas about what’s going on with his skin underneath. We’ve done research.

We’d already tried other things to calm him. We considered hiring groomers to come to the house, but until Boo calms more, we think that option is out. We have managed to groom some of it down, but not the worse, and without constant grooming, it begins expanding. Something must be done. Hence the CBD.

Knowing Boo’s condition, I knew it would take some time for me to get any quantities into him. The oil smells unusual. Boo doesn’t do unusual.

At the same time, I was trying it on two of the others: Pepper (the neighbor’s elderly cat, who treats our place as her home), and Tucker. Tucker suffers from autoimmune and inflammatory issues. Somewhere older than ten years old, he’s aging, too. He apparently lived a rough street life before reaching our door. Again, he’s a cat without a past (that we know).

I added CBD to the food. Boo ran away. Pepper ate it up, curled up, and went to sleep. Tucker ate some and became…mellow.

Papi did, too. Yeah, he ingested a little with food. When I visited with him afterward, I swear he acted stoned, smiling at me like he was going to say, “You know, you’re so cool. I love you, man.”

The next day, encouraged by the small amounts and reactions, I squirted a few drops directly into Pepper and Tucker’s mouths. Pepper took it in stride; ate, went away, and came back stunningly invigorated. Success. Wow.

Tucker went to sleep. Deep, deeep, deeep sleep. It was so deep and prolonged, I wondered, what the hell have I done to my cat?

Then, after twelve hours of that, he hunted me down in bed in his usual Tucker style, and all seemed fine.

Meanwhile, I bought special food for Boo. He’s partial to things with sauces, so I purchased a more expensive offering, with skipjack tuna and chicken in a delicate broth (such marketing hype, right?). Into it I dropped two drops of CBD.

Boo lapped it up. Then he went outside, found sunshine, and went to sleep, deep, deeep, deeep sleep, for hours and hours. This was in parallel to Tucker’s deep sleep. Tucker was inside sleeping; Boo was in the grass in the back yard. Usually when I open the back door, each looks up from their sleep to see what’s going on. Usually, too, Boo trots over to me.

This time, nothing. From either.

Holy crap, I’d killed the cats.

I checked both for signs of life. They stirred, like, what? But it wasn’t their usual behavior.

After a day of that deep sleeping, I worried about it. I decided not to give any cat CBD to see what happens.

You know what? All are normal, almost back to their pre-CBD form, except that I swear that all seem more relaxed. Pepper continues to be sprier.

At this point in my non-scientific testing, I consider the CBD worthwhile. I have another can of special food for Boo. I plan to administer the CBD to him in it this week. Then we’ll attempt to groom him. Just a little, mind you.

Then we’ll really see if it’s worthwhile.

 

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