Tag: cats

Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood: Sundaylax

It’s Sunday, July 21, 2024. Quiet rules the neighborhood. The cats and birds are all chilling. Haven’t seen any deer, cougars, foxes, or bears. I guess they’re off chilling somewhere, too.

Wildfire smoke crashed the scene yesterday. Gaining density, we were soon sitting in a yellow fog at 96 degrees F. The smoke carried out Air Quality clear up into the unhealthy zone, finishing just short of hazardous. The cats were forced in, the air purifying machine turned on, and the windows kept closed as sunlight fled and night swarmed in.

Dawn brought relief. Temperatures wre huddling in the low sixties. Smoke mildly grays the blue sky but visibility is much better. I’ve cautiously opened a few windows. Doesn’t smell overly bad. I experience some eye tearing and itchy now and and again, then a dripping nose, and a bout of sneezing, but overall, it can be endured. All the weather sources are agreeing that we’ll touch the high eighties as our temperature’s ceiling. That’s a welcome change.

I don’t know where the smoke is originating. California has several going. Southern Oregon where I live is relatively fire free. East of the Cascades delivers a different story, as major fires are going in Oregon on that side, especially by the Idaho border. Hope all stay safe and the fires are soon contained.

“Danger Zone”, a song by Kenny Loggins and associated with the movie Top Gun is storming the morning mental music stream (Trademark threatened). I don’t know why The Neurons pulled the 1986 song from the mental archives for this morning. It doesn’t seem overtly dream related. Could be smoke & fire thinking, I guess. I don’t believe that it’s a political manifestation as I swerved away from politics this morning.

It’s a kind of strange video. 80s music, 80s clothing, 80s dancing. But they’re my people. LOL.

Have a better one. Be strong, stay positive, and Vote Blue in 2024. Here’s the music and there’s the coffee. Help yourself. Here we go. Cheers

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Mood: coffeetermined

Dry, hazy, hot. Not as hot as many U.S. places. Haven’t really checked the rest of the world. I’ve been mired in my American experience.

It’s 83 F in Ashlandia, where the sky is postcard blue and the sun beams down with frying bacon intensity. Gonna get hot today. How hot is questionable; one source said, 99 F. Another gave us a quote of 95 F. Somewhere in the upper nineties is my guess.

Tomorrow will be cooler, they’re saying. Fingers crossed, they’re right. Some are saying, 89 F will crown the temperature. Others declare, 91 F.

I’d love something in the high eighties for a change. I’m working on the side yard. We have a couple raised beds located there but chose not to use them this year, because we had other plans. While I was away in May, this yard grew thick with weeds. Now they’re all straw yellow and ripe fire fuel. I’m trying to remove it all but the heat gets in my way. Also, I grab this stuff and it just breaks away. Getting rid of it is going to be an involved process. I’m considering watering it to green it and then pull it up.

Papi and this jay have something going on. Papi is our ginger blade, a rescue floof abandoned when neighbors moved away. He and they apparently didn’t get along well. He’d started visiting us and socializing. Originally calling him Meep because of the soft sound he made, we started feeding him and giving him shelter when the weather went to shit. Eventually, he was ours and his original folks were gone.

I don’t know what precipitated it, but whenever Papi leaves the house and goes into the backyard, this jay flies over and screeches at him. I mean, it’s relentless. This started several days ago but this morning’s episode seemed more intense. I had the bedroom slider open to let the cool night air in, with the screen closed. Papi came in and ate just before six and went back out, and that jay started up like a frenzied MAGA fan. I could see the bird on our table yelling at Papi. Papi didn’t seem to be doing anything in response.

Anyway, out of that, The Neurons conjured the 1972 song which Billy Paul had a hit with. See, I’d said to myself, Papi and that jay have a thing going on. I guess The Neurons thought that segued well with the song’s lyrics, “We have a thing going on.” So now I have the song playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark scratched). If you listen to the song as I did, I sang along but subbed the words, “Papi and the jay have a thing going on.” When I sang it to Papi, I swear that he rolled his eyes and walked away.

Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee is mingling with the tastebuds. Time to jam. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Floofroad

Floofroad (floofinition) – 1. The path taken by an individual to meet an animal, or vice versa. Origins: early 21st century Internet.

In Use: “Mark’s normal floofroad for finding strays is just to open the front door. It’s like, if he opens the door, they will come. And he can never turn any away.”

In Use: “Many people’s floofroad to a new floof addition to their home begins with a visit to an animal shelter, but more frequently in this Internet age, the floofroad begins on social media.”

2. The course an animal takes to get from point to point.

In Use: “Papi’s floofroad is never straightforward, as he engages serpentine routes to go from door to door — except when he’s heading for his food bowl. Then he’s like an arrow shot from a bow.”

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: coffee-upd.

Welcome to Ashlandia, where it’s Thursday, July 18, 2024. Currently sitting at 70 degrees F under an unfettered blue sky, we expect to achieve a high only three degrees above our July average, 95 F. I’m looking forward to a summer day when we’re three degrees below average. Yes a day in the high nineties would be a treat. On the plus side, our dry conditions keep us from being flooded as is happening in other parts of the U.S.

A friend was relating some cat tales to a group last night. His cat is now mature and they’ve been leaving together for a few years, so he finally broke it to her that she was adopted. He thought she took it well.

Later, though, she was lying on the floor in dim night light. He went by, brushing his foot against her back leg. She instantly bolted out of there at the speed of light. In the process, she used his big toe to launch herself, and her claw left a nice souvenir. Next day, he had the front door open but the screen door on so she could look out. Well, she climbed the screen and got a claw stuck. He saved her and she rewarded him with a five-inch scratch. I wondered, was this all accidental, or was she acting out because she learned she was adopted?

Cats.

Today’s music comes from noodling thoughts. I’d been thinking about how Evangelicals have embraced Trump. He’s one of them is their claim, which means, they’re like him, yeah? In doing so, they’ve basically re-branded themselves with Trump’s values. It sickens me. Anyhow, eavesdropping on my thinking, The Neurons dropped Joan Osbourne’s 1995 hit song, “One of Us” into the morning mental music stream (Trademark hopeful). Eric Bazilian wrote the song. In it, singer and writer wonder, what if God was one of us? A stranger on a bus trying to make their way home. They create an image so far away from the Evangelical’s bizarre twist that Trump is a holy savior.

Right. Let me the picture the scene. Can you imagine Trump taking a bus to go home? Imagine him among the hoi polloi. Of course, he’d be trying to sell something and bragging about how great he is. “I’m the greatest savior ever,” he’d declared. “And it’s not just me thinking that. The Pope told me. He said, ‘Donald, you’re the greatest savior ever, cause you’re not a loser. You’ve never been nailed to a cross.'”

BTW, it’s Sour Candy Day. I’m not a fan of sour candy but if you are, please indulge.

Stay positive — yes, deep breaths, right? Be strong. Lean forward. Vote Blue in 2024. And drink coffee. That last is totally optional for you, but I’m having some, black, hot, and unadulterated. Dig me?

Here’s the music. And away we go. Cheers

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Flooven

Flooven (floofinition) – A blend of ‘floof’ and ‘haven’, means a place or space where an animal feels safe and comfortable. Origins: 2023, North America.

In Use: “Cats often enjoy secreting themselves in places where they can’t be found, but Trucker, with his ability to open and close drawers, cupboards, and doors, took it to new levels with floovens throughout the house. Nobody ever knew where they would find him next.”

In Use: “Barney was a large dog, a sweetheart who’d been abused as a puppy, who needed a quiet place as a flooven.”

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Pawcity

Pawcity (floofinition) – A small amount of something taken by an animal through the use of a paw. Origins: 1960s New Floof City. Closely related to an English word, paucity.

In Use: “Unseen on a chair, the cat reached up and seized a pawcity of chicken off of Karla’s plate.”

In Use: “Whenever Jim and Greg looked away, their big dog snuck a paw out to steal a pawcity of their food.”

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Floofvibe

Floofvibe (floofinition) – A sense or feeling between a human and an animal, or between one or more animals, that trust and friendship can be found in the other(s). Origins: Late twentieth century, United States west coast.

In Use: “Sometimes, the floofvibe is so strong, the connection is immediate and permanent.”

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Friday’s Theme Music

Mood: sizzlin’

Greetings from Ashlandia, where the heat stays on. It’s Friday, July 12, 2024. July has been a flaming month. Formalling started on July 4th, when the thermometers were showing it’s over 100 F and has barely eased. For today, we’ll tap one degree below 100. It’s a pleasant morning now, though, 68 at my house after falling to 62 F. Tomorrow, we go back to 100 F. Sunday is expected to drop into the low 90s, kicking off a stretch where our highs will crest in the 90s and the lows overnight will find the mid to upper sixties.

Air looks pretty good. Blue cloudless sky looks particulate free, except over in the horizon’s northwestern sector. Probably from the Salt Creek fire. They’re making good progress on it with a lot of mopping up going on. They warned that we’d probably see greater smoke last night, as we did, because they started a fire inside the containment line to fight to fire to keep it from jumping the fire line.

Boy howdy, that cool night air was invigorating, friends. As the sun slipped away and the temperatures slithered down below 80, I slid open the bedroom slider and the cats and I reveled in it. I’ve been sleeping atop the duvet, not bothering with even a coverlet, but I awoke cold enough that I pulled a light blanket over me. Tucker (pronounced Tuckah) stayed with me most of the night but as I got up to open the slider’s screen door to let Papi in and out (and in and out, repeat), Tucker said, “Hey, I want to go out there, too.” The boy has been feeling the heat, and his age.

Well, read news last night that the Beastie Boys were suing some restaurant over use of their song, “Sabotage”, from 1991. As soon as The Neurons were informed, they pulled the song from their mental file cabinet (my brain still uses paper but they’re talking about going digital) and now it’s blasting in the morning mental music stream (Trademark melting). As with many songs I enjoy, I’d never seen the video for it. Seeing it today is like a smack in the face from a wayback machine. Great fun.

Stay positive and be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024, and return President Biden to the Oval Office. Coffee and I have come to terms and are getting along swell. Here’s the music video, directed by Spike Jonze. Hey ho, let’s go. Cheers

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Flooflife

Flooflife (floofinition) – 1. The attention span an animal will give device, event, or command. Origins: United States mid-twentieth century.

In Use: “The flooflife for Sophia’s cats watching birds out the window was a few hours long, much longer than the flooflife for any of their toys.”

In Use: “Puppies and kittens typically have a flooflife measured in seconds when it comes to playing with things, often discarding one object to chase another.”

2. An existence spent living with or around one or more animals. Origins: Europe, early 1800s, derived from middle floofish.

In Use: “Feeling trapped by restrictions during the COVID-19 pandemic, many Americans adopted a flooflife, welcoming animals into their homes from shelters to help assuage boredom and loneliness.”

In Use: “People adopting animals find that a flooflife can get complicated, depending on the animal’s personality, habits, and sometimes, their new pet’s neurosis.”

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: Stockup

Ashlandianers have the giggles over the cooling temperatures. “It’s only going to be 99 degrees today,” we gushed to one another yesterday. “And it’s only going to be 97 tomorrow. Woo hoo!”

Yes, everything is relative. But after a week of record-setting triple digit heat, you can understand our happiness.

Today, Thursday, July 11, 2024, finds us at 71 F right now, with 97 coming over the horizon. Mild smokiness hazes the mountain’s pine shapes but there’s little graying of the blue sky. PurpleAir shows no unhealthy areas of air in our area, another woo hoo moment. Our largest near fire, Salt Creek, is about 90% lined, 16% contained. Mop up is going on in Division A and some parts of Division F. Division W is less tightly lined and they’re using dozers to work that. They’re contining to run 24 hour shifts and are making steady progress.

The Beer Fete for my retiring buddy went well last night. Twelve retired individuals – ten male, two female — two engineers, two botanists, a forensic microbiologist, a hazmat expert, two teachers, a metallurgist, a doctor, the professor emeritus, and me — were gathered. Yeah, we prefer small groups, thanks. The gang chose to sit indoors. Although the temperature had dropped into the mid 90s by then and we had shade, a vicious warm wind was snapping at us. A vote was taken and in we went to air-conditioned socializing. We mostly talked politics. A vote showed that President Biden should remain in the race, 10-2.

Despite yesterday’s lower temperature, cooling the house in the evening proved difficult. The heat was just hanging. I had doors and windows wide open. Papi and Tucker (pronounced Tuckah) both exclaimed, “To hell with this,” and went out to cool off in the Ashlandia serengeti which is my backyard.

For reasons known only to them (and they’re not sharing), The Neurons have “Sweet Freedom” by Michael McDonald (1986) playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark sunbaked). So although I lack a ‘real’ reason for playing it on this warming morning, it’s an uplifting tune and I’m going with it.

Be positive and strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue. Coffee and I are doing our thing. Here’s the music. Cheers

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