Tag: Cat

Sunda’s Theme Music

Mood: Sunupbeatgetic

I got a sunshine on a cloudy day.

This is Sunda, December 29, 2024. Yes, we have sunshine. Been a few days since its lights tickled our eyes. Poured last night, prompting a flood advisory for our county, although our town was spared. Lifting and breaking up this morning, the clouds are permitted full view of the low mountains around us. Yes, they’re all still there. 43 F now, a high of 43 F and light rain showers are expected today. This is a welcome change from yesterday, where the air became smeary with fog, mist, and rain.

Papi the ginger blade, aka Butter Butt and the floof previously known as Meep, has been shedding a lot this year. He’s always liked to pretend that he’s a wild animal tolerating domestic pleasures, so he spends time outside even though it’s been sheeting rain. Drives us nuts because we want him in and safe, but he’s perfected the noises and activities that drive us to the precipice of sanity. Reaching it, we give in with a shout and let him out. We’re trying to figure out if there’s reason to his heavy shed load. Is it because it’s not as cold as it usually gets? Does it have to do with the heavier rain load than usual? We don’t know. I plan to inquire about their cats’ shedding from others locally who live with cats.

An energetic, upbeat mood has a grip on my psyche today. I’ve avoided news so far to sustain the mood. It’s fired by a dream about a blues concert that transformed into an erotic dream as a woman seduced. Woo hoo. Good to have one of those every now and again. BTW, I took a kazoo with me to the blues concert and played it.

Weird confluence of music in the morning mental music stream (Trademark flourishing). First came Cher with “Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)”. Sonny Bono wrote the song and it was released in 1966. Whatever convoluted reasons The Neurons had for bringing this song up weren’t being peeled back.

Just as I finished puzzling over that, The Neurons introduced Peter Gabriel with “Sledgehammer” from 1986. Like, “Huuuhhhh? Why is that in my head?” The Neurons remained mute on their reasoning. Musing between the two songs, I was leaning toward Cher’s.

Then, walking about, doing morning exercises, I was contemplating where my foot is hurting. Nothing from the ankle where I had my surgery hurt. No, it was hurting proximal to the lateral metatarsals on the right side, what we often call the little toe or the pinky toe, really, phalanges three, four, and five. They dislike bending down post surgery. CBD topical cream working in concert with Salon Pas heating pads alleviate some of the pain and stiffness. The stiffness is more problematic than the pain, and I realize that it’s the cause of my antalgic limp. Just one of those things to work through.

Anyway, from that course of thinking arose The Police with “King of Pain” from 1983. The connection is that where they sing, “That’s my soul up there” in the background chorus, I used to believe they sang, “That’s my source of pain,” in a classic mondegreen goof.

That’s my morning. Coffee has hit the spot. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts

Strangest thing happened today. My big ol’ black and white cat, Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah), came up to me and said, “Me-ow.”

He surprised me. Tucker normally says, “Mrrew.” Or, “Rrow.” “Mrph.” “Mruph.” Things like that. Meow? Never. It was like hearing a dog say, “Hello.” Or a deer offering, “Good afternoon.”

Me-ow. It was so clear. So distinct. You could have knocked me over with a paw.

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Munday’s Theme Music

Mood: Weatherplativ

Hey, it’s Munday, December 23, 2024. A surly northern wind is snapping at us and messin’ with the trees. Clouds have rolled over the sun, rendering it a weak incandescent bulb. Temperature is 46 F but that wind cuts a few degrees off the top end.

Butter Butt. That’s my wife’s new nickname for Papi the ginger blade. I asked her what caused her to give Papi that floofonym. She shrugged. “No real reason. I looked at him and it came to mind.” But it somehow fits him.

Today’s song is a celebration of winter solstice. Except it isn’t. A line hooked The Dear Neurons’ attention: “We so tired of all the darkness in our lives.” That came to me while looking out the window and thinking about the short day & the right wing. Both deliver darkness to our lives. Just after that, Der Neurons lowered “Steppin’ Out” by Joe Jackson into the morning mental music stream (Trademark high steppin’).

We’ve turned the annual corner on the short days of daylight but who knows when we’ll shift away from the right wing darkness? Started with the ‘Tea Party’ stuff, which into MAGA, Proud Boys, Oathkeeps, and other militia. Add to it the general craziness and willful ignorance permeating the GOP in Congress, and PINO-elect Trump stuffing his cabinet with billionaires who long ago sold their sold, and the darkness is worse than a black hole. (Which suddenly makes Les Neurons go, “Hold on, maybe we should go with ‘Black Hole Sun’ today.”) Naw, going with Jackson. “Steppin’ Out” is a lighter, happier, you know?

Here we go, another day from 2024 going into the books. Just a few more left to savor. Cheers

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Sa’day’s Theme Music

Mood: Drowsaday

I slept in today. Three aspects drove it. One, my foot was cranky for rest, two, the night’s weather, and three, my bed was seductively warm and comfortable.

Foot/ankle continues getting better but I press to improve. That sometimes backfires. It’s a two-step, you know, step forward, step back, step forward, step back.

The night weather, though, holy stormy, Batman. Wind was busy when we went to bed. Rain was dumping. Few hours later, I awoke to distinctive moaning and a freight train sound. My youthful tornado experiences mumbled to my sleepy mind, “That sounds like tornado.” I checked the time – 5:05 – and rumbled out of bed and to the outside doors. Looking for tornado funnels, of course. In the dark. Hello.

Papi was out. That dumbfounded me. I checked his back patio condo. His usual refuge, it was disconcertinhly empty. Rain was spraying through the covered patio, because the wind was shoving it sideways. So it wasn’t the safe harbor that it normally was. Given that, I pelted back to the front door. See if Papi was cowering around there. Nope. I did some calling and whistling. No Papi. Repeated that in the back. Watched, waited, wondered.

Back to bed. The wind dropped the moan and its freigh train imitation. Serenity settled over the darkness. Whap, whap, whap. Papi’s familiar rap carried from the front door. I hustled out there to bring him in.

His fur was dry.

To end the tale, I fed Papi and returned to be ’bout 6:25. Settling in, I elevated my foot. Tucker found my hand and rested his head on it. Sleep hit me over the head. When my awareness next resurfaced, the timepiece’s digit were showing 9:45.

Pretty out there today, Saturday, December 21, 2024. Everything is wet but drying. Nothing in my vision’s field is wind-disturbed. Sunshine and a cloud-marbled blue sky rocks the valley. Temp of 46 with a few degrees left until we touch the high. That might be deceptive; I just watched an elderly-appearing guy making his way up the hill past my house. Wearing a light jacket with bare hands, he yanked the zipper up as far it would go and pulled his hands up into his jacket sleeves.

Today’s morning mental music stream (Trademark snoozing) occupant is Willie Williams with “Armagedeon Time”. Came ’bout from mind mutterings while listening to the wind and hoping the homeless and animals were all safe. But with lyrics like, “Lot of people won’t get no justice tonight” and “lots of people won’t get no supper tonight”, the song is a fitting tune to herald the coming year and concerns about GOP willingness cut up the nation’s social safety net.

BTW, this is it, shortest day of the year in the northern hemy. Take a few days but the days will cease their early sunsets and begin curving toward more hours of sunshine. Feels really needed as we end the tumultuous 2024.

Got coffee, had brekkie, and ready to boogie. Here’s the music. Merry solstice, ya’ll. Cheers

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Sa’day’s Theme Music

Mood: Politicynicsm

It’s an autner morning with winter impression holding a slight edge. A freezing cold night was had with temperatures lowering to 18 F around my place. I know that’s not so cold in many places; I’ve lived in a few of them. But that’s chill for us.

Since dawn, the sun put the hammer to the temps. We’re into the low thirties now. The splash dab white crystals decorating the greenery is giving way as the sun’s fingers stroke the land into warmth. A high of 56 F is contemplated, with clouds, blue skies, and sunshine.

This is Sa’day, November 30, 2024, the last day of the year’s eleventh month. Just one more for the historic records and we’ll put 2024 to bed.

Keeping Papi the ginger blade in and safe from icy temperatures was a big challenge for us. He gave me his patented cheetah stare whenever I told him no.

Note: this is not Papi. Papi looks nothing like this, except for that staring, judging expression.

But we were successful without too much floofma. Now he is up and up, patrolling and sniffing to see who floofpassed on his realm while he was suffering the indignation of being kept warm and safe.

Been thinking about the Trump presidency and how it’s going down. He and his teams have not signed the transition docs. Therefore, no transition can begin. But, he’ll be sworn in on 1/20/25, won’t he? And then he’ll be POTUS. And then he’ll say, “Fuck those documents. I don’t need to sign shit. I’m the president.” SCOTUS has already established that these things he does as POTUS aren’t illegal, so… I’m sure the Senate will go into a legislative tantrum but the reality is, what will they do? Are the oaths really needed? Not in Trump’s newly minted prezzy immunity. Prezmunity.

Yes, feeling cynical this morning. But that’s the battle and potential outcome I see brewing. Of course, I’m crap at these predictions so I wouldn’t put any money on it.

Hmm…is Vegas laying odds on it? That would seem appropriate. Electing a proven con, liar, incompetent wanna-be dictator and fascist is a gamble…

Oh, wait. I see that he has signed some of the docs now. Sorry, been avoiding the news cycle. That’ll teach me.

So last night, I bit into a Kind drizzle bar. Off came part of one molar. Had to laugh. Just fits in so well with this year’s progression of events. My wife has been claiming that I’m held together by bubblegum and tape. Looks like it’s all coming apart.

I originally had songs about ice or white in the morning mental music stream (Trademark frozen). Ya know, things like “Cold as Ice” and “Ice Ice Baby”. “White Wedding” and “Nights in White Satin”. “Whiter Shade of Pale”. But The Neurons used their veto-override and inserted “Take My Breath Away”. The song was a creation for the Top Gun movie a zillion and two years ago. Berlin, an American new wave musical group, performed it for the movie and achieved a respectable hit for it.

I asked The Neurons, why this? They smugly deigned to voice an answer. But it’s in the stream, so I’m forced to share it to get it out. Kind of a tedious song to me. I mean, I admire the singer’s talents and the band’s skills, and respect the songwriters. Just not my cuppa. I’m low on the romance scale, though, so don’t judge it by my impressions. Listen for yourself.

Try to be positive. I grok that’s an easy expression to state but hard to manifest at times. Do your best, right? I will, too. Aided by coffee, the positivity function is stirring anew. Here we go, another day in 2024. Here’s the music from 1986 to take you there. Cheers

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Floofracious

Floofracious (floofinition) One with a huge appetite for animal companionship or presence. Origins: 1635, Europe.

In Use: “A floofracious young person with a menagerie of rescued animals, birds, and lizards, few were surprised when Chase took her inheritance and began an animal rescue operation.”

In Use: “Suffering from animal-related allergies, Dovante turned to art to help satisfy his floofracious needs, painting animal portraits (flooftraits, he termed them), and photographing animals whenever possible.”

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The Dream Collection

First, I dreamed that my ankle was completely healed. Such a real dream that when I awoke, I asked myself, did I dream that? Checking the ankle, I confirmed, nope, not healed. Yet.

Next dream had me dealing with space. A father was in space, apparently as an astronaut. It wasn’t clear if he was a private citizen, military, government effort, etc., but the news was full of his attempt. Then, boom, we were all looking up at a starry explosion on the edge of Earth’s atmosphere. Then the newspaper, electronic, and digital media is full of his disaster and death.

I wasn’t involved in any of this, just a spectator. Talking about the matter in a fractured dream process under a blue sky, my friends and I went off to get lunch. But while this progressed, I put forward the man’s daughter, a four-year-old, had been with him, and he was launching her separately back to Earth. I kept insisting that she was out there, coming back. All others were doubtful. We hunted down a tracking monitor. As we watched it, another object was being traced across the sky. There was a target arc and vector it was supposed to be following. As it veered off that, reports of a crash came in. Everyone agreed it was her and that her vehicle crashed and she was deceased. But I remained optimistic that she’d come down, and that what we’d seen was just a ruse to throw everyone off. Certainty remained in me that she’d made it back. Then I stated my belief that her father had also made it back, using the distraction of his spectacular destruction as a diversion.

That’s where the dream ended. Who this man and his daughter were supposed to be and why we cared is a complete unknown.

The night’s final dream found me with a power to make toys come to life. I could also make them grow larger. Once I learned of my ability, I tested it on a yellow toy dump truck and a green army tank. Finding my wife sitting on top of a tiny green hill, I demonstrated my new skills to her as my black and white cat, Tucker, watched.

In true dream strangeness, I then went to a cafeteria to find something to eat. Although the dining room was full, they were preparing to close. I got in line. Only a young couple were ahead of me. Cloying and loving, they were annoying and silly as they flirted and teased one another over their food selections. Seeing me waiting behind me, they apologized and offered to let me go ahead. I declined and they finished a few minutes later. Stepping up, I found that only pasta with a brown meat sauce and hot dogs were available. I piled some pasta on the plate and then loaded up two hotdogs. Eating one of the dogs, I thought, wow, that really tastes good. I was pleased with having it to eat and scarf the rest down.

My wife rushed in, interrupting my meal to warn me that something was happening to one of my toys. Her explanation was inchoherent so I just ran to where she indicated. As she said, my largest toy, a stuffed bull which was now a dozen yards tall, had fallen into a deep water. I ran over, trying to think instructions for getting out to the bull. But I was still assimilating the situation and didn’t have a clear idea yet.

The bull was running in a circle under the water. I thought he would drown. Then I saw that my black and white cat, Tucker, was riding the bull. As I gaped, I realized that Tucker was guiding the bull. Encouraged by that, I thought instructions to Tucker to help him, telling him to turn toward the shallows. Apparently receiving the guidance and applying it, Tucker guided the racing bull left and left again, and up and out of the water.

Dream end

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood: Suntimistic

Sun is shining. Gives promise to this Sunday, November 24, 2024. Wind is calmish, erratically kicking up like a new foal. A few clouds mill, strutting grays and whites. With a 44 degree F temperture and a high of 48 F, you’re not going to mistake this for anything but late autumn in Oregon.

Pleased with that sunshine after murky days of rain and mist. Such a wonderful and natural way to lift spirits. I went out into the chilly morning air and raised my face to the sun, sucking it up.

I think we’re going to chart how often we let Papi the ginger blade in and out of the house. Sometimes he comes in the front door and runs right to the back door, like he’s using the house as a shortcut. It feels like twenty times a day to me. That’s almost one time an hour, 24 hours. I need to chart it.

Saw a headline that caused difficulty keeping my breakfast down. “Most Americans Approve Of Trump Transition—As Controversial RFK Jr. Gets High Marks, Poll Finds “Most Americans”. Yeah, and most Americans think that tariffs and mass deportations will lower inflation. Shouldn’t be surprised that ‘most Americans approve’. Actually, I don’t think I’m surprised but disappointed.

“The majority of respondents approve of both Trump’s plans for mass deportations (57%) and his plan to impose broad tariffs on U.S. imports (52%), the poll found. Most Trump voters also don’t believe the tariffs will make prices higher—contradicting predictions from most experts—and the third that do think tariffs will lead to higher prices support them anyway.“

And while 59% approve of Trump’s transition plans, of the five nominees listed, RFK had the most positive rating, 47%.

So there we go. We must find a way to Make Americans Think Harder. Maybe bitter experience will open their eyes and impact their thinking. From what I’ve seen, it won’t. After all, look at how much of history, basic government and civics, and economics they keep forgetting.

Final note: I wonder if they included a question in that poll about Trump not yet signing the necessary transition documents? Hmm? Would that change the favorable poll results? Do they know that he won’t sign those MOUs and the ethics document?

To be fair, research has emerged that COVID-19 affects the brain, including a negative impact on IQ. Maybe that explains why Americans don’t seem to think much these days.

My foot continues healing. Edema causes issues. More exercise is needed to combat the edema. But the healing ankle surgery compromises the ability to exercise. Classic Catch 22.

Today’s song is sun focused. The Neurons saw that and started throwing sun and sunshine themed songs into the morning mental music stream (Trademark limping). Eventually, the mingling lyrics and rhythms cleared. Bob Marley and the Wailers arose with “Sun is Shining”. I like the song’s relaxed, easy style.

Gotta say, the green chili stew we made yesterday was a perfect antidote to the chilly wet day yesterday. Added roasted chicken to mine. Yeah, frozen and pre-cooked, low sodium. Yes, I’m a cheater. It’s available for lunch today. Really spicy; my wife said it was too spicy for her. We topped it with avocado and garnishd it with cilantro.

Coffee has been introduced to my internal environment. Gonna go make green smoothies. Think they’ll have a tropical taste. Mango and pineapple. Have the best Sunday you can. Here’s the music. Cheers

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The Black Cat Dream

One of our floofs was a big black cat named Boo. With a stub for his tail, he wandered into our yard one day asking for food, and we welcomed him. He was in good shape so we went looking for his owners. No one ever claimed him.

We lost him to cancer a few years ago but he visited me in a dream last night. He spent time laying beside me purring, looking at me, talking to me. Then he followed me around as I went through the house and out to trim the yard bushes.

Thinking about this dream, I realize there’s a lot of my recent dreams which seem to be about yearning for a time when things were happier, when I was younger, and when the future is brighter.

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Monday’s Theme Music

Mood: Postsunday

Proceeded through the morning essentials. Complained to Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) about the stench of some of his essential. Both floofs begged release from the house to the rear yard. I headed out with them.

September 30. 2024. Monday. Cold autumn morning. Even the rising solar orb gave a little shiver. Cats sought sunshine arrangements for grooming. I launched back into the house, thinking, cold now but will cap at the mid to upper 80s F today. No clouds effing with today’s blue, either.

This is it. September’s last shout. Like other months this year, September of this year will be able to brag to historians about disasters, politics, and violence. History will give it a glance and reply, more of the same but intensifying. Probably ask, “Couldn’t the people see the direction they were heading? Did they not give a fuck to try to change it?” We’ll defensively huddle together and reply, “Well, it’s complicated.” If MAGAs and the GOP ever emerge from their holes of irresponsibility and weirdness and wash the cult off, will they be able to understand how they contributed?

The Neurons offer a slice of song from the South Pacific musical: “Gonna wash that cult right out of my hair and send it on its way. Get the picture?” I thank them for the mild snicker they induce.

Moving on to music, thoughts about waiting and patience impell The Neurons to move on from “Bali Hair” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark sinking) because they kept on going with South Pacific tunes (once they’re on something) to a 2003 Audioslave song. The melancholy rock song, “Like A Stone”, is about waiting for the afterlife, patiently at that, where they’ll hope to be reconnected with someone. Doesn’t purely translate to today’s situation ‘cept for that idea of patiently waiting for some of this mess of 2024 to clear up, patiently waiting, as it’s sung, like a stone.

Be positive, patient, and strong. Test neggy and lean forward. Vote blue. Coffee has washed down the breakfast components. Here’s the music part of the post. Cheers

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