Tag: cats

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: Sumstalgia

Another lovely summer morning has slide into place. We shall call it, “Rumplestiltskin”. Naw, we’ll stick to the usual boring but useful process and call it Wednesday, June 26, 2024. Like many a newborn, it’ll be marked but what happens during its short life.

It’s 65 F now and the cats are cooling it in favorite cooling-it spots after eating brekkie. 81 F may tempt the temp measuring devices but the weather cards tell us it ain’t s’posed to be too hot today. My breakfast of kumquats, blueberries, passion fruit, almonds, brazil nuts, and a bagel has been consumed, and I’m loading coffee into my system as cool breezes gambol in through the windows.

Two songs are occupying the morning mental music stream (Trademark refreshed). Snippets of one entertain the neurons, and then the other pops in. One song is “Saturday Night’s Alright for Fightin'”, an Elton John song of some repute. It was featured in a dream where I was playin’ the six-stringed instrument and singing it, performing for a packed place. I had strikingly huge arms in this dream, and kept looking at them in mirrors from different angles, thinkin’, “Boy, that looks strange.” With those aspects all that’s remembered of the dream, it deserves a prefix like ‘mini’ or adejctive like ‘brief’ before it.

The other song has some Sting softly songing “I want my MTV,” and then those drums and other things start up and we go full-fledged into the Dire Straits hit, “I Want My MTV”. MTV offered memoriable shows and ideas but now it’s a fading phenom as MTV.com now says ‘that page does not exist.’

Started in 1981, I was on Okinawa during its early years. I was familiar with it because a friend and co-worker had friends recording MTV for him and sending the videos to him so he could watch them on VHS while he rode an exercise bike in his living room. I watched a little but became bored sitting there as they tried to entertain us with music news and music videos. Many videos were interesting but it didn’t induce me into wanting to waste the day watching them.

Of course, MTV gave us Comedy Central, which begat “The Daily Show”, which often saved us when faced with political insanity.

The first music video played on MTV was “Video Killed the Radio Star” by The Buggles. But the second was Pat Benatar with “You Better Run” so that’s our theme music today.

Stay strong and be positive. Let’s freshen the coffee and start rolling this day up the hill. Vote Blue in 2024. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Humfloobo

Humfloofbo (floofinition) – A practice used by animals to help develop relationships with people. Origins: Old Floofish. Modern scholars theorize the word means ‘human-floof-bond’ but no evidence has been brought forward to support that idea.

In Use: “Humfloofbo evidence is experienced by many every day, and cell phones and social media help spread awareness of its existence.”

More Human/Animal Bonding…
Examples of Humfloobo.

In Use: “Many young floofs such as kittens or puppies attempt early humfloofbo efforts by nuzzling, licking, or biting humans while elephants will use trunks to stroke people as part of their humfloofbo.”

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Floofmerge

Floofmerge (floofinition) – 1. Cover with animals. Origins: 1697, widely used in Europe.

In Use: “People with new puppies or kittens can swiftly discover themselves to be floofmerged.”

2. A union of several animals, generally of different species. Origins: 1931, Budafloof, Hungary

In Use: “Animal Farm, an allegorical novella published in 1945 depicts a floofmerge on a farm where animals take over and rule.”

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Monday’s Theme Music

Mood: summerpositive

The cats and I agree, it’s a strong sun today, biting my skin with its heat, blinding my eyes (yes, what else would it be blinding — my ears?) with its light. Not supposed to be hot today, just 87 F, and it’s just 67 F now. This is Monday, Jun 24, 2024.

The cats are pratically living in the backyard, slumbering beneath bushes or stretched out, floof-napping in green patches of lawn. They come in to visit me, get fed, and use the litter box, and then dash back out. Reminds me of being a young child in the summers, doing the same with Mom. Except I didn’t use a litter box. Not in those days.

I jest, of course! Spoke with Dad yesterday. He’s down. They — the omniscient they here is the medical staff — are pushing for the dialysis port, and he doesn’t want to go through with that. He seems fazed by the surgery and claims he doesn’t want to be a burden on people, as others would need to drive him to his appointments several times a week. I’m sure he will go through with the procedure but he needs to work himself up to it. I called him this morning to chat with him but reached his voice mail. I need to call Mom to catch her up on that news. Never did call her yesterday.

Terrible flooding in the midwest. Iowa was severely hit. Evacuations were ordered and bridges collapsed. I remember flying over the plains states decades ago. The floating and the heat dome are connected events. Hope the climate doesn’t get any worse or the nation and its citizens might start getting worried. Yeah, that’s snark, baby.

My spouse picked up a nice Charles Wysocki jigsaw puzzle at Ashlandia’s library of things yesterday. I thought we should have some on hand for more Internet outages. We began the puzzle last night, even though the net didn’t go out. Lovely little beach scene featuring an old house where a high school kite flying club meets. Kites lean against an old fence in the sand and a heart shaped balloon, tethered to the gate, floats above the scene, red against a cloudy blue and white backdrop. A few sailboats skim choppy waters in the background. I can almost smell that ocean.

Other than these matters and the standard form of our days of eating, cleaning, writing, reading, it’s quiet. I accept quiet. Still recuperating with my ankle issue.

Today’s music comes by way of Willy Nelson. I was reading about his show cancellations and the article reminded me of a gay cowboy song Willy sings. The Neurons immediately began a little rendition of the song, “Cowboys Are Frequently Fond of Each Other”, in the morning mental music stream (Trademark grazing). Although Willy’s version came out back when Brokeback Mountain was gaining Oscar attention, I picked up a later version done by Willy and Orville Peck. Hope you enjoy it.

Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Also brace yourself for a busy news week. With more SCOTUS news forthcoming, the end of June sending up a cloud of dust as it sprints at us, and the debates and the weather, I’m sure there will be a lot to talk about, read about, and GRRRRR about.

Coffee has been sucked down. Here we. Cheers

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Floofbat

Floofbat (floofinition) – Activity characterized by an animal battling a machine, mechanical device, or inanimate object. Origins: Internet, circa 2020-2024

In Use: “Refusing to yield to the robot floor cleaener, the cat engaged in minimal floofbat with it.”

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Floofnomen

Floofnomen – The name by which an animal or animals refer to people. Origins: Roman empire.

In Use: “Many people mistakenly believe that cats reduce people to their roles, i.e. can-opener or spare human one, but almost all floofs give human specific floofnomen, although the floofnomen can often translate to things like ‘primary food giver’ and ‘the door man’.”

In Use: “Michael didn’t know it but his floofnomen among his cats was Mrupew, which was like an amusing sound to him, but which translates to ‘warm body person’ in Floofish.”

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Friday’s Theme Music

Mood: Smokytitis

It’s a beautiful summer morning *cough cough*. Except for the smoke in the valley.

Yes, Ashlandia has awoken to smoke in our air on this Friday, June 21, 2024. It’ 70 F out and is expected to clip 93 F. The smoke will cut the high by a few but the smoke’s impact, scratching throats and eyes, congesting noses and sinuses, stirring up infections and limiting outdoor activities, is depressing. Still not as bad as weather in other states

Completed my DIY plumbing yesterday. Took most of the day, a chunk of energy, and three trips to the hardware store. It all worked out, though. My keywords for completing it were persistence, seating, alignment, and tighten. Satisfying and rewarding, once I finished it. And again, I learned.

For relaxation last night, we headed to Lithia Park in the downtown zone for the city band’s concert. It was a sweet, comfortable time as they presented a mixed box of sounds from the 1900s. Three bucks showed up at the park. One enlivened the show by visiting with some patrons and then dashing across the lawn in front of the band. That earned him a light spatter of applause. The other two came up to the front, surveyed the scene, and went around it behind the bandshell.

Back home, the net went out for the evening, so we reverted to reading books and light housecleaning.

On personal matters, my ankle is doing better. Don’t think I’ve noticed swelling in the last two days. There is stiffness. Mostly, there’s distrust. I’m leery of trusting it not to go out. I’m still wrapping it for support and I’m avoiding certain movements with it but I’m mostly walking sans limp.

Spoke with Mom. She’s not happy with her hospital bed. I think it’s a matter of adjustments, as its smaller shape had an impact on how things were arranged, forcing new arrangments to her personal area. That comes with challenges.

Over on Dad’s side, good news abounds. Took ten pounds of fluids out of him. He’s complaining about his kidney-friendly diet and is being moved from ICU to a private acute rehab room. So, hurrah there. A dialysis decision has His wife told me that she’d been worried about costs, but his Medicare and Tricare-for-Life pays for it all. The system works, at least for him. So will respond, yes, because he’s a white man. And they’re probably right but I hope we reach a point that all can be treated in the same way.

The Neurons, being not very original, have an abundance of smoke-themed songs in the morning mental music stream (Trademark hazy). One persistent song was “Smoke from A Distant Fire”, a 1977 hit for Sanford & Towsend. But I shouted, “Get thee back with that music!” That ignited skitter mode in the floofs because they thought I addressed them. I finished to The Neurons, “I reject that song for today and that whole damn attitude. That sent The Neurons afluttering because I’d not even imbibed coffee yet.

Papi then approached to pet me. As scritches were exchanged, The Neurons found an old song, “Jeepster”, and began playing it in the morning mental music stream. Although the T-Rex song came out in 1971, it has a mid to late 1960s sound to my ears. Either way, it’s a fine, upbeat offering for today’s theme music.

Coffee has now been enjoyed. Smoke is lazily graying the azure sky. Don’t know from whence the it originates — the smoke not the sky — but it’s time for me to go rock and roll. Remain pos, be strong, lean forward, and rock on. Here’s the music. There I go, a leaf on the wind. Cheers

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Defloofmation

Defloofmation (floofinition) – Change for the worse, or alteration of a form or shape due to animal activities, presence, or behavior. Origins: Mid-twentieth century, United States, New England.

In Use: “After three cats joined the household, significant defloofmation was seen on the carpet, sofa, and a couple chairs.”

In Use: “Jet’s defloofmation of the backyard included his racing path, where he went out every morning and did laps through the grass.”

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: Humpnotized

I was gently serenaded awake by the dulcet tones of a cat upchucking somewhere nearby. Investigating, I found it was Tucker heaving up kibble and a hairball. Fortunately, I had an exercise towel down. It was for foot and leg exercises to cope with my ankle injury, based on recommendations from my sister, a physical therapist. Tucker and Papi had staked out the green towel as the new ideal napping spot in the house. That’s where Tucker was sleeping when I went to bed. Apparently, he slept there until he awoke and puked.

That’s how my Wednesday, June 19, 2024 began. Hope yours was better. I raise my coffee cup to Juneteenth and my fellow Americans who celebrate it for all the right reasons.

Spring’s hold is weakening in Ashlandia. Sprummer has burst back onto the scene. It is a beautiful blue skied morning. Sunshine baths runners, bikers, grooming cats, and everything else under the sky. 61 F, today’s high will bounce into the low 90s. With this abrupt weather shift will come high winds.

After the puke check, I squirmed back into bed, and then tumbled with dreams and thoughts. The thoughts went down a parental aisle. Dad in the hospital. Mom was there in April. The two are divorced, with new partners. They actually divorced over fifty years ago. Dad has been with his ‘new wife’ for 35 years, his third marriage. Mom has been with her beau since 2009. Family whispers say that she’s been married seven times. Mom has a secretive gene so vetting information is a challenge.

Mom professes to constant pain. She complains frequently and often about her existence, frequently demanding her daughters’ attention, repeatedly regaling all of us with tales hospital visits, doctor appointments, and health details. Going backwards, appendicities, and before that, a perforated appendix put her in the hospital. Her pacemaker was replaced. COVID hospitalization, spinal stenosis, swollen foot (but not edema, she tells me, although she had sixteen lymph nodes removed during foot surgery), and of course, fifteen years ago, the disastrous fall down the steps. She sleeps with a mask on to help with her breathing because of emphysema. Hardly able to walk, she insists on tottering around the house to clean it, though to most eyes, it’s immaculate. She takes dozens of medications, vitamins, minerals, and supplements.

Dad tells me from his hospital bed, “I’m fine,” with a chuckle. “They have a hundred doctors helping me. They want to put me on dialysis but at my age, they worry about whether I’d survive the procedure.” He’s been stented over ten years ago. Uses a wheelchair and a cane. Has oxygen at home, which he insists that he doesn’t use. Only his wife is there to help him.

Mom always complains about her beau. He can’t hear, she says, and I’ve witnessed the truth of the 94-year-old man’s hearing issues. “He’s forgetful,” she angrily hisses. “I always have to tell him things and make him lists.”

Dad’s wife laughs about Dad and his idiosyncrasies. He never says a harsh word about her.

What a difference their worlds are.

Today’s song choice by Les Neurons is a little ditty called “Twilight Zone (When the Bullet Hits the Bone)” by Golden Earring from 1982. A song inspired by an adventure spy novel, it’s presence in my morning mental music stream (Trademark split) is all on me. See, I was feeding the cats and somehow ended up singing, “You will come to know when the kibble hits the bowl.” That’s a variation of Twilight’s chorus, “You will come to know when the bullet hits the bone.”

Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue for 2024. Coffee has stolen into my body. Here is the music video. Cheers

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Bountflooeous

Bountflooeous (floofinition) – Giving freely to animals or disposed to give to animals.

In Use: “Brenden established himself as a bountflooeous individual before he was five years old, feeding any dog, cat, squirrel, or bird who came along.”

In Use: “Martin was bountflooeous, driving around his town every day to provide food and water to stray cats and dogs, earning their trust, getting them medical help, and finding them homes. Locals nicknamed him The Animal Guy.”

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