Flooftrigue(floofinition) – Secret or underhanded floofinations done by animals. Origins: 1676, France.
In Use: “Nobody could understand how the kittens were escaping their safe room every day until a camera was installed and caught the flooftrigue as the Retriever sniffed the door and then then opened it, letting the kittens loose before nosing the door closed.”
Recent Use: “People in Texas were intrigued by Cleo the cat burglar and the flooftrigue around his stealing antics that were caught on camera.”
Smooflooing(floofinition) – Covering an animal with an excessive number of kisses.
In Use: “Barbie loved finding her cat, Hamilton asleep on the bed (which was his favorite place to nap day and night) and smooflooing his belly, which always brought his bright green eyes open and a deep, throbbing purr.”
In Use: “Withng a month of being adopted, Cameron had taught his people to begin smooflooing his face and belly whenever the big lab threw himself, whether it was on a walk, in the house, or in the backyard or driveway.”
Recent Use: “The web has become a repository of videos of people smooflooing their pets, especially cats and dogs.”
Lootching(floofinition) – Combined stretching and looking at something by an animal who has been sleeping. Origins: Internet, US, 2023
In Use: “Walking into the bedroom, he awoke his floof, who responded with some intense lootching before curling into another sleeping position and resuming his nap.”
In Use: “The dogs and cats conducted synchronized lootching when Carrie walked in, and then pause, watching to see if she offered food, before returning to their snoozing.”
Recent Use: “An ancient Floofverb states, ‘There’s no lootching among distrustful animals.'”
It’s a showery and sunny blue and white marble sky day on December 30, 2023, in Ashlandia, where the coffee houses are busy and the offerings are above average. 46 F now, we’re edging toward a 54 F high on this early winter day. Many of us have mild colds with hay fever overtones. Most wonder if it’s something worse as COVID reports are up in town.
I read much news each day. I think one of the wildest and saddest stories read this morning was of a Texas teen who shot two other teenagers in his home. Shooting them in the head after showing them a revolver, one was killed and the other was severely injured. A third teen, safe in the bathroom, called the police, reporting he’d heard two gunshots.
Most traumatic to me was that first, the seventeen-year-old stated he’d wanted to commit homicide for a long time, and had thought of shooting himself, and allegedly had cajoled his mother into buying him the weapon, although the family attorney denied the mother bought her son the gun. Let’s pause to think of what she’ll be going through now and for the rest of her life, regardless of her role.
Secondly, though, after he’d killed, he walked around the house crying, asking himself, “What have I done?” In some ways, he reminds of Kyle Rittenhouser, a killer who had little understanding of what killing another fully means. In that sense, I mean, do they understand that the other person will never get up again? Do they comprehend the legal and moral implications? Do they understand what they’ll do to their own psyche once they’ve killed? I think that a lot of this is lost in a culture where killing is often glamorized.
Today’s music was brought to my morning mental music stream (Trademark flushed) by Tucker. Tucker is my mixed long/short-haired black and white big foot feline. Wildly whiskered with a thick tail, he was constantly following me around yesterday and today. He frequently does this but it was a more intense session. I asked him the usual about his health, if he was hungry, and what he wanted and needed. And I petted, scratched, and brushed him, allowing him lap top while I was reading and net surfing, but nothing seemed to satisfy the boy. He’d eaten well and had his usual bowel movement (trust me on that), so those things didn’t seem issues. And he’d used his scratch pad quite vigorously, and then galloped around the house, so he had plenty o’ energy. After noting he was following me everywhere, The Neurons began “Everywhere” by Fleetwood Mac from 1987.
Stay positive, test negative, lean forward, and be strong. Now coffee up! It’s Saturday. Here’s the music. Cheers
December 29, 2023. Today is Friday, and it’s a wet windy time in Ashlandia, where the New Year Eve celebration preparation is below average. 59 F degrees right now, 61 F has appeared on the offerings board as our high. It’s like winter has declared a moratorium on snow in our valley, and the mountains around us. While it’s nice for now, we need the snowbank to be replenished.
The cats are happy, though. I let them out and they settled on the covered porch, leisurely surveying their kingdom as the rain fell, yawning, washing, then drowsing. Tucker stayed out but Papi banged for re-entry to get some sugar from me and have a third breakfast.
No serious plans for NYE in our house. We looked for dancing and dining opportunities but nothing called the inner rocker. Seriously, the pickings were lean as a wheat crop in the Sahara. So, shrug, it’s a quiet evening planned for us. Neither of us seem overly upset over it.
The Neurons fed a Triumph song, “World of Fantasy” from 1983, into my morning mental music stream (Trademark fantasized). A convo with the significant O opened the portal for the song. We were talking politics and how some seem to live in such a fantasy world. I was later humming but didn’t quite recognize what it was. Later, in bed, the song came more deeply but I still couldn’t hook up with the title or band. Come morning, while downing coffee, The Neurons tipped that it was Triumph and “World of Fantasy”. As I remembered it, I thought how Triumph, a Canadian group, sometimes reminded me of Rush, another Canadadian group.
Stay positive, be strong, test negative, and lean forward a better future. Coffee has been sucked up and is yielding positive results. Here’s the music for you. Cheers
Man, are we saps at my house. What else can we be called?
A central vac system is built into our place. Using three hose outets and one thirty-foot hose, we can plug that dude in and quietly vacuum. Yeah, it’s quiet in the house, but in the garage where the motor unit and canister are mounted on a wall, it’s a fiercely loud noise.
Anyway, it has it pros and cons. Last week, we got it out and vacuumed. The hose ended up haphazardly coiled in the dining room by the table. When I went to put it away, I found one of our floofs, Tucker, blissfully asleep in the coils, his head resting on one. Oh, let him sleep, I told myself, smiling at the sight. I can put it away later, or tomorrow. It’s called profloofstination.
Tomorrow became two days, then three. Every time I thought, let me go put the hose away, I found Tucker asleep in it.
I never said anything to my wife about it but on day five, she said, “I want to put that hose away, but everytime I go to do it, Tucker is asleep there, and he just looks so sweet and relaxed, I don’t want to disturb him.
It’s now day seven. The hose and cat remain. I reiterate: man, are we saps.
46 F and light rain now, but Wednesday, December 27, 2023, began with a windy assault that took over all the trash receptacles put out for pick up, and a steady rain thrashing us through the night and morning in Ashlandia, where folks are mostly friendly, and the food tastes almost above average. BTW, 46 F is today’s high.
Tucker didn’t mind the rain, closing his mind and eyes against what was happening outside, and remaining inside, a wise approach to handling it. Papi, though, insisted on trying the outer realm, soaking his fur. “How dare you!” he meowed at the world after beating on the window and returning inside. A brief pause by my side so that I could pet and admire him, and then he was off to the kibble bowl to scarf.
A friend’s holiday letter had this paragraph, and I found it cute, humorous, and even inspiring, so I thought it should be shared. Note: Pam is her daughter and is five years older than me.
“Pam managed to get 95 balloons to come sailing into her dining room while we were having my birthday dinner celebration in October. What a riot that was! She personally blew up 35 of them before she ran out of air and wisely got help! We batted one red balloon around the table exactly 95 times before it hit the floor. Great fun!”
A retired dancer and teacher, she’s a sweet and terrific character and wonderful friend, as is Pam, and Pam’s children. Nice to know such people.
The Neurons dumped “Katmandu” by Bob Seger into the morning mental music stream (Trademark dissolved) as I made the bed this morning. Not a bad song at all, but I have no idea what they were thinking when they began playing the song. However, when I saw the holiday letter again on my office desk and read again the tale about the birthday balloons, I issued a veto override and went with “99 Red Balloons” by Nena from 1984. Hah, take that, Neurons.
Stay pos, test negative, be strong, and lean forward. Coffee levels are being replenished as I type. Here’s the music. Cheers
Viafloofor(floofinition) – An animal, especially pet, who enjoys traveling or walking around by themselves. Origins: ancient Rome
In Use: “Charlie, a chunky ginger boi, was a regular viafloofor, walking the sidewalks and visiting homes and businesses as though he followed a schedule, which was useful for being served pets and treats.”
In Use: “Bear was never much of a viafloofor, preferring his bed or a comfortable warm spot of sun-kissed lawn in the backyard, to walking around, unless it was to greet his people or make an acquaintance with something to eat.”
Recent Use: “OMwazeng on YouTube has a video of a cat named Dodger, a viafloofor who takes the bus every day.”
It’s Tuesday, December 26, 2023. 39 F outside, it’s almost Christmas cold. Clouds and sunshine are rotating through influences. One moment, it’s a bright shiny day and you stand at the window and stare out at blue. Not pretty out there, a little sodden, with faded grasses and bare trees except for the conifers. Then clouds swing back in, dulling it all more in its appearance, and quickly dropping a chill on the space. High will be 54 F. Precipitation isn’t predicted.
Most of the holidays are past but now the herd wheels toward the largest, most universally regarded holiday: New Year. People plan a party, a celebration to last throughout the year. Or they seek a humble day of new beginnings. Resolutions are made, dreams and hopes addressed again, and vows are given, sometimes privately, about how the next year will be different. Thoughts turn to everything pending, and the things on the world agenda, and how they might unfold. Sighs are released like the wind whispering with the first notes of an incoming storm.
The cats stayed in and curled up, sweet as cats can be, and less distrustful and threatening to one another.
Our Christmas was low key. Just my wife and I at home. Very relaxing and enjoyable for me. I mostly read and stayed off net most of the day. Did watch parts of two football games. Also watched “Hogfather” because she said she’d never seen it. We had croissants and fruit for breakfast. I made our roasted root veggies soup in the afternoon and we ate about five. I also texted with little sister #2 several times, tracking activities and the state of things.
Heard from sis, though, that another sister and her hubby’s COVID is terrible and that it has been passed on to two other family members.
Musically, I was thinking about change, and The Neurons offered up David Bowie and “Modern Love” from 1983 into the morning mental music stream (Trademark traded). I thought, why that? Tracing back over my thought pattern, I recognized that I’d used but things don’t really change. Bowie incorporates that: “I catch the paper boy but things don’t really change. I’m standing in the wind.” I always thought the last line there was about standing in the winds of change, but that’s just me.
Stay pos, test neg, be strong, and move forward. The coffee fuel is being loaded; countdown has begun. In three…two…
Floogi(floofinition) – An especially mystical or reflective animal. Origins: Floofskrit. First known use, 1613.
In Use: “Sienna had owned many cats and dogs, and often thought most of the cats had mystical qualities, but Samuel Jackson was the first dog she had who seemed like a floogi.”
In Use: “Jade often set up in a serene and watchful pose, her emerald eyes partially closed, a floogi contemplating existence.”
Recent Use: “Felines’ propensity to often seem like floogis has given rise on the net to posts with cats looking serene while saying something counter to the moment, such as, ‘I may look sweet but forget to feed me on time and my mittens of death will tear you a new one.'”
Michael Seidel, writer 