“What’s this?” I asked myself, speaking only in my mind.

I looked around. Nobody was in sight, but on my desk was an unexpected fresh cup of steaming coffee.

The coffee fairy had been by, I realized.

I’m very fond of fairies. Besides the coffee fairy, the doughnut, cookie, and brownie fairies have visited me.

Fairies do have a dark side. Just this morning some feline fairy left a gift on my shower mat. They also left another gift on the bathroom rug. It had to be a fairy, because my floofs were all bland innocence and whiskers.

Some fairies have never visited me, despite my hopes, like the lottery fairy (“You have to have a ticket!”), but the writing fairy often comes, streaming words through me. The words often make sense, too. Well, sometimes.

Time to write edit like crazy at least one more time, and see what the fairies have for me.



The Lion Dream

My wife and I were living in a pale stucco house that was part of a housing plan. It reminded me of the Kadena Air Base or Randolph AFB housing we lived in.

It was a sunny and pleasant day outside. I opened the front door, looked out, and saw an adult male lion, mane and all, about forty feet away. I said to my wife, “Look, honey, want to see a lion?” She wasn’t much interested, and I kept telling here, “There’s a lion out here.”

The lion became interested in me and the door, so I closed it. My wife looked out the window and saw the lion, but wasn’t impressed. I continued intermittently watching it. Doing that, I discovered it was moving around outside our house, and more focused on it.

Not seeing it out the front window after a while, I opened a side door. Yes, the lion was just outside. As soon as the door opened, it turned my way and approached at a brisk trot. I shut the door fast. Looking through another window, I saw the lion prowling along the house and knew that he was looking for a way in.

We had cats, and the cats were suddenly interested in going outside to see what was going on. I grabbed one as they started out the pet door and pulled them back in. When I did, the lion shoved its huge paw through the pet door and tried clawing the cat out of my grasp, but I kept the cat away. As the other cats ran toward the door to see what was happening, I managed to kick the lion’s paw. Roaring it withdrew the paw and I put the pet door cover on.

I heard the lion scratching at that door. I was a little alarmed but knew the lion couldn’t get in that way. But I was concerned that something else had been left open. As I thought fast about what could be open and hurried around, checking windows and doors, I heard the front door open. Shouting, “No,” I ran that way.

I arrived at the living room to discover my wife had opened the front door. She was stepping out. Running forward and shouting, I grabbed her and slammed the door shut just as the lion arrived.

The dream ended.



Floofstead (catfinition) – a cat’s territory and its adjoining location; a place a cat claims by its presence.

In use: “The door was open, so in true floofstead fashion, the tiny diluted calico walked in, completed an inspection circuit, and then settled down for a nap on a chair, establishing that this was her place.”


Floofstop (catfinition) – a cat that leans against something, preventing it from opening or closing; a cat in the middle of something, like an unmade bed, or a floor, keeping activities from being completed.

In use: “The door couldn’t be opened nor closed because Tucker decided he’d be a floofstop, and his languid, confident demeanor made it clear that he didn’t plan to change vocations any time soon.”


Flooflop (catfinition) – a gallop cats employ while racing around the house; a stop, stretch and roll motion cats use to get humans to pet them.

In use: “The thundering noise was like a herd of miniature buffalo stampeding through the house, instead of an eight-pound cat flooflopping about.”

Recurring Topics

I was thinking about my recurring topics as I walked today. My blog and posts are mostly about me, and so is this post.

I have several recurring subjects. Daily theme music and catfinitions are my most consistent offerings. The first came about because I stream music in my head quite often. That’s my way of saying I remember music and hum or sing to myself. Memories of where I was, and who I was with are frequently affixed to the music, so the music trigger speculation about life.

I also stream music in my head when I write. Not all of it is pop/rock, folk, rap, etc. Some classical music seeps into the streams. I don’t use it as theme music. I always wonder with this, am I alone in streaming music in my head? No, I’m certain I’m not. It’s probably part of a condition. To be sure, I encourage it because I think it stimulates my imagination.

Catfinitions were born from perceptions. I have four cats. They all came to me as cast-offs from others. We know the background to two of them. One, Quinn, came running to me one winter night and then refused to stay with his people after they took him home. He preferred us. The other, Papi, belonged to a neighbor. So skinny, we always saw him outside, learned that his people didn’t let him into their house for reasons that weren’t disclosed, and fed him and took him in to keep him safe, warm, and healthy. They moved away and left him. End of story.

The other two, Tucker and Boo, showed up, hungry and hopeful. They were fed, so they stuck around. I tried finding their owners. Nobody confessed, so the cats are mine, now.

Living with these cats always provides a reason to come up with a word to help describe our relationships and cats’ behavior. Like today’s catfinition, cateral. My wife left the bed this morning. I stretched out. Cats joined me. They, too, stretched out. I got up to pee, and then decided, twenty more minutes in bed. Except, I could not return to bed without shifting two cats. Instead of doing that, I found a different position. Cateral, I realized, as I lay parallel to their positions, chuckling. I easily amuse myself. Several readers like the catfinitions, so I keep doing them. They’re fun for me.

Writing quotes is a favorite category. I started sharing them after encountering quotes on others’ sites. I think people in every occupation are unique to that occupation. Some occupations have people who are more unique than others. Most people are fortunate that they work alongside another person from their occupation. They understand one another. This gives them comfort and strength, but also gives them a baseline for comparison.

Writing, though, is often a solitary pursuit. Non-writers don’t want you to talk about your writing, and I don’t like talking about it, because I think it saps the writing energy.

I end up having conversations in my head. Sometimes I’m speaking to myself. Other times, I discuss things with the muses or characters. The question is, are these three categories actually separate, or are they all just me?

Part of writing is that it is a different process and experience for each of us. It’s a very individual and personal effort. We may share some methodologies and styles, but so much of writing comes from our private baggage. So many of us struggle in our solitude, and we wonder, is it like this for everyone, including all those who are the greats, and those whose words and ideas awe and inspire us?

So I look for quotes to reaffirm and remember, yes, all those terrific writers out there, in every discipline and category, endured the same damn self-doubt, criticism, and frustration. The only way past it is to persevere. That doesn’t guarantee anything, but you can’t be called a failure if you haven’t stopped, and as it’s often reiterated, you won’t get anywhere if you don’t write. Even garbage can be edited.

I post about bumper stickers frequently but less often than the first three subjects. Those are bumper stickers that I see on the passing cars that strike me as humorous or interesting. Sometimes, I just don’t see any new ones, not surprising, because this is a tourist town and a college town. The students usually don’t have cars, and the tourists only come during certain seasons. That’s when I see new bumper stickers.

My personal favorite posts are about writing like crazy. These vanity posts are about my writing progress, writing success, lessons learned, and struggles. I like writing them most because they help me think through things that I’ve noticed about my efforts to write. It’s therapy, and I share, because sometimes others comment.

Last are the dreams. I dream so often. I like dreaming. I like remembering them.

My dreams don’t always make sense. Hell, they don’t usually make sense. As a writer and human, I want to know what they mean and why I dreamed what I dream.

So, I write about it. Some of those dream writings are published as posts. One, I’m comfortable thinking while typing. Two, writing and posting about my personal dreams helps me overcome my wealth of self-doubts and anxieties. Putting myself out there helps me think about words and their meanings, but it also helps me develop a thicker skin, which I desperately need.

Those are my usual subjects. There are also sometimes minor and major rants, but they’re a spur of the moment thing. I also write once in a while about current events, food, beer, coffee, politics, walking, reading, movies, travel, Ashland, and my Fitbit, but they aren’t my usual subjects.

All this comes up now because I started writing this blog in May, 2016, so it’s been two years, if my math is right. (If I was a cat, I might call this my cativersary. Sorry.)

So, thanks for stopping by.

Thanks for reading and liking.

Thanks for commenting.

Thanks for the posts that you share. Your talent, knowledge, experiences, humor, stories, and courage amaze and inspire me. Keep it up.



Floofgress (catfinition) – a cat attack; an aggressive cat.

In use: “She thought that when he rolled on his back and presented his furry tawny belly that it was an invitation to give him a belly rub, but her motion to do it started a floofgress.”


Floofiebrity (catfinition) – the quality of being a feline.

In use: “The tabby’s floofiebrity inspired her to decide that being herself was best expressed not by conforming to others’ expectations, but by finding and being her own true, confident self.”

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