Flooftimist(floofinition) – A person inclined to be hopeful about animals and to expect good outcomes for animals. Origins: 1759, England.
In Use: “The big black dog was found sick, injured, and undernourished, lying in his own filth in bushes by the side of a busy road. Vets said that the best thing to do was euthanize him, but the dog kept looking at Marcia and wagging his tail, bolstering the flooftimist in her. Finding another vet willing to try to save the dog, six months later, she had a new best friend.”
Recent Use: “With emerging health and medical practices, more people are flooftimists, locating and helping stray, feral, and abused animals around the world in a growing global network of animal activists and friends.”
Lovely fall day is on display today, Monday, November 27, 2023. 45 F under a sunshine drenched blue sky with another stagnant air advisory out for Ashlandia, where the deer are above average and the bears are like Yogi — not. Time is blocked out for activity so I’m spinning this fast.
Gonna be 53 F today. A memory came up of a November snowstorm experienced four years ago. That’s looking out my front window. I did the usual whining about the cold and the inconvenience back then but also was thankful for the snow to help end the drought, which was severe in those days. We’re still working on getting out of it but it’s much better this year, knock on drywall; there were no penalities levied on us for our water use and no cutbacks or limitations announced this year.
Responding to his most royal Floof Papi the First and his 3 AM door service directives, as I walked by a window, I was taken aback, even though the blinds were drawn. Looked like a big ol’ spotlight was trained on my residence. I quickly had ideas that some crime was underway and the police had the place surrounded with a mega spotlight blowing up the scene for all to see. I thought, “There’s something happening here. What it is ain’t exactly clear.” I pulled the blind up to see if there was a man with a gun out there. But it was but a sky cleared away for a Beaver Moon to shine down on us. Let me tell you, without any heavenly obstructions, that moon was a bright puppy. I would have stayed out admiring it but I was half naked and barefoot, and the air temp was settled around 36 F.
The Neurons suggested The Logical Song by Supertramp, 1979, sliding it into the morning mental music stream (Trademark woke) for my AM entertainment. The suggestion was certainly born from my wife and I discussing various things and concluding how much of what we read or saw via videos seemed illogical. More, though, there are frequently questions which run deep in my mind on into the night, not just about politics, news, history, and religion, but more philosophical elements about the state of existence and reality, and then soft mourning about how complicated our world has become in this information age. “The Logical Song” addresses some of these matters.
I went with an interesting version performed by Ringo Starr & His All-Starr Band. That is the songwriter and the original vocalist, Roger Hodgson from Supertramp on keyboard.
Gonna enjoy the day best that I can and make it successful on my level, using my measuring methods. Hope you will, too. Stay positive, keep strong, and lean forward. I’m sure I’ll do the same, once I get some coffee in me, along with the pumpkin muffins with maple topping my wife made me. Goes super with fresh hot coffee. I’d offer you one but by the time it’s delivered to you, I don’t think it’d be nearly as good.
Writ of Floofamus(floofinition) An animal’s order to another animal or human to perform a duty or correct a situation. Origins: first used by English pets and animals in the early seventeenth century.
In Use: “Many people with pets are familiar with getting a writ of floofamus after the floof thinks their food or water bowl is perilously empty, or if they believe their feeding time has passed.”
In Use: “Finding the cat in his bed, Bogart barked out a loud writ of floofamus for Becall to leave his bed, an order which Becall ignored, forcing Bogart to take the writ to his people for enforcement.”
Recent Use: “On the Monday morning which started his second week as a rescue living with the Thompsons, Napoleon — aptly named, though it was a whim — marched into the bedroom, jumped on the bed, walked up to sleeping Beverly, vigorously tapped her nose, and when she opened her eyes, issued his first writ of floofamus for breakfast, all recorded by a security camera and posted to social media.”
With Tuesday, November 21, 2023, here in Ashlandia, where the restaurants are good and the service is above average, we have another weather shift. 58 F, the sun is shining like summer now as late morning rotates through. We’re expecting highs in the low to mid-sixties today. Only problem is the air stagnation advisory. It ends this evening today but we’ve honestly been little affected by it in our valley this time, knock wood.
Les Neurons are messing with me again. Experiencing sound sleep and multiple dreams last night, I was remembering the latter this morning while putzing through the breakfast routine of feeding the cats and making my breakfast when The Neurons delivered a song to the morning mental music stream (Trademark dated).
I’m detouring here to mention that feeding the cats breakfast includes giving Tucker his hip and joint supplement. He’s an elderly cat now, with a few teeth gone after dealing with gingivostomatitis most of his life. When he first arrived on our porch, hungry, matted, and crying, he had serious mouth infections. We had those treated and some teeth removed and have since kept him on a grain-free diet, which works well in keeping the gingivostomatitis at bay.
But now, being older, he’s stiff with arthritis. His supplement helps, lubricating his movement, stimulating his appetite, and increasing his energy levels, but he doesn’t have the teeth to chew it right, so he often tries and then leaves the wet chew on the floor. So, to give it to him, I crumble the chew into boiling water and mix it with his morning and evening wet food, and he’s lapped it down.
Now, I don’t know if you know cats, but many of them want whatever the other is having. I’ve caught Papi, who is much younger, sniffing Tucker’s treated food with interest. He’s decided he wants a little hot water mixed in with his wet food, too. His thinking, I think, is, another cat is getting it, and if it’s good enough for another cat, he deserves to get it as well. Second, hot water helps keep him hydrated, and enhances the food’s smell and flavor, right? I suppose, because he licks his bowl clean.
Anyway, as I’m doing these things this AM, The Neurons begin playing “Young Folks” by Peter Bjorn and John with Victoria Bergsman from 2006 in the morning mental music stream. I’m not privy to why The Neurons brought that song up. They often don’t share with me, treating my requests with disdain. Maybe they just remembered the whistling or the voices or the song’s message and lyrics, and thought this a good day to hear it again. Honestly, I don’t know, but it’s earned its place as today’s theme music.
Stay positive, be strong, and lean forward with growing optimism that we’ll get over the Trump threat and everything he does to encourage others to come forward as hateful, hypocritical, racist, sexist, homophobic, warmongering, privilege-seeking neanderthals. My coffee is going down smooth and tasty. Think I’ll have some more.
Floowallick (floofinition) – Animal’s effort to simultaneously walk and wash or lick itself, often after eating wet food, drinking milk, or the like. Origins: Flang (floof slang) first noted on the Internet in the United States circa 2010.
In Use: “Videos of saved animals such as cats floowallicking with a contented expression after a satisfying meal often draw large numbers of ‘likes’ on Facebook posts and Youtube videos.”
Recent Use: “Watching her Chihuahua finish his food and slowly floowallicking afterward, eyes almost closed, Cara laughed with new delight and love for her small furry soul mate.”
Forty and foggy for Friday in Ashlandia, the weather mothers proclaimed. I saw no fog but forty F did come around. Even with forty and sunshine, les chats were all for coming in where the furnace warmed us and staying in.
It’s November 17, 2023, and the countdown toward holidays in the US and the year’s end is heating up even as our temperatures go down. We’re in the midst of a hot streak, and our high will be 62 F.
Now, I gotta tell you, I’m tired of a lot of things going on not just in the United States, but the entired world. War is one of them, mass shootings and killings with automatic weapons is another, along with climate deniers, and ‘cultural warriors’ who baked issues with women’s rights (abortion choice), teaching children critical race theory (doesn’t happen), GOP gerrymandering, and pulling rights out from under LGBTQIA+ people, just to scare and divide people. I’m tired of people trampling others’ rights, religions and freedoms because they’re claim in strident tones that they’re being persecuted. I’m tired of people who don’t like a book banning it to keep others from reading it. I’m tired of Evangelicals and White Supremacists and antisemetics all trying to pose as something other than the haters and evils that they are. Tired of media and pundits pretending that both sides are the same when talking about Democrats and Republicans as Republicans rise up to deny people equality and justice and burn the country down to get their way while Democrats fight to defend us and keep it all going. If you think they’re the same, you’re not paying attention, and I’m tired of people not paying attention, not applying some critical thinking, not doing research, not exercising their memories, not understanding their government, and trying to rewrite history. But mostly, I’m tired of damn Donald J. Trump and his whole tribe of lying, hypocritical supporters.
Out out of that, The Neurons fed “You Haven’t Done Nothin” by Stevie Wonder to my morning mental music stream (Trademark declared). It’s a solid theme song choice. This 1974 protest song was addressing another infamous Republican POTUS, Richard Nixon, you know, the one of Watergate, dirty tricks, and wiring taping fame. The one who resigned and was pardoned by his successor.
While written for the political environment and events of almost fifty years ago, this song is exactly what’s needed to address Trump and his stolen election lies and the many other facets of his re-election ‘campaign’, along with his constant insistent about how great he is, how he’s so incredibly fit when we can see that he’s not, what an amazing memory he is as he makes claims about things that never happened. I’m tired of the growing cancerous mass which he represents. Stevie Wonder could have written his song for Trump.
We are amazed but not amused By all the things you say that you’ll do Though much concerned but not involved With decisions that are made by you
But we are sick and tired of hearing your song Telling how you are gonna change right from wrong ‘Cause if you really want to hear our views “You haven’t done nothing”!
It’s not too cool to be ridiculed But you brought this upon yourself The world is tired of pacifiers We want the truth and nothing else
And we are sick and tired of hearing your song Telling how you are gonna change right from wrong ‘Cause if you really want to hear our views “You haven’t done nothing”!
Stay positive, be strong, stand up for your rights, and lean forward for a better future. Here’s the music. Coffee is up, if you want some. Hey ho, let’s go. Cheers
Although it’s Thursday, November 11, 2023, and fall’s colors claim the land, spring ambiance has won the day. It’s remarkable how much it seems like spring out there. That feeling just boosts my spirits and energy. Gotta love it.
Early afternoon, it’s 60 F outside and the temperature will claw up to 65 F in Ashlandia, where traffic is busy and road construction continues. This weather pleases my cats. Tucker has gone out back into a sunny spot of grass, groomed himself and settled for a nap. Papi wandered in and out a few times, which is his custom regardless of weather, but settled down on a chair cushion in the sun out back and is curled into sleep. Pleasant, even satisfying, to see the two boys out there napping.
Getting a late start. My wife had a problem with one a device this morning. It failed to work for her, so I took it apart and got it going again but killed an hour from the morning. Then she and I discussed genealogy for a while after she accidently discovered a photo and details about her great-great-great grandfather on the net. That stirred my interest again in having my DNA analyzed. I usually avoid it because I know from others how learning about DNA and genealogy becomes a time suck as people learn and pursue info about themselves and their ancestors. I don’t want to invite another time suck into my life, but I also feel like the time has come.
Other than that, and meeting with friends for drinks, reading books, trying to keep up with the news, planning holiday activities, chores, writing, and taking the cars in for maintenance, not much is going on. With so much discouraging news sweeping the world, The Neurons turned on Train with “Calling All Angels” in my morning mental music stream (Trademark blinking). The 2003 song reflects a hopeful vibe for someone who feels like everything is falling apart and came out of the songwriter’s therapy session.
I need a sign to let me know you’re here All of these lines are being crossed over the atmosphere I need to know that things are gonna look up ‘Cause I feel us drowning in a sea spilled from a cup When there is no place safe And no safe place to put my head When you can feel the world shake From the words that are said
And I’m calling all angels And I’m calling all you angels
I won’t give up if you don’t give up I won’t give up if you don’t give up I won’t give up if you don’t give up I won’t give up if you don’t give up
I need a sign to let me know you’re here ‘Cause my TV set just keeps it all from being clear I want a reason for the way things have to be I need a hand to help build up Some kind of hope inside of me
And I’m calling all angels And I’m calling all you angels
Stay pos and hydrated, sleep well and be strong, and lean forward into a better future. Coffee has been deposited in my gullet and delivered the desired effect. Here’s the music. Cheers
Floofogony(floofinition) – 1. An account of floofs’ origins on Earth. Origins: Poem of 1022 lines by Floofsiod, written about 1026 BCE.
In Use: “Few humans have been granted access to the Floofogony, a document which is precious to animals and kept in the Fortress of Floofitude in an undisclosed place which is said to exist in an area of Earth inaccessible to humans.”
Recent Use: “Although many societies offer greater recognition that animals are not dumb and do have feelings and are capable of more intelligence than previously credited, the idea of a document such as the Floofogony is usually roundly mocked.”
2. Anguish of any sort felt about the loss of an animal or an animal’s situation. Origins: middle-english, first known use in fourteenth century.
In Use: “When their dog raced out of the yard after his bath, immediate floofogony was felt by all the family members even as they scrambled to put on their shoes, get in the car and find her.”
Recent Use: “With the Internet showing more about animals across the spectrum helping one another or asking humans for help, more people experience floofogony as they read stories or watch videos about animals being dumped, abused, or in need of medical intervention after accidents.
A flourish of color and wind heralded Wednesday’s daybreak on November 15, 2023 in Ashlandia, where red-leaved maples are spectacular and plentiful, shimmering with a tree full of leaves like they’re lit from within. After rain dusted us for a few nocturnal hours, it’ll be dry for the day’s remaining hours. 54 F now, we’re reaching for 62 F today under a sky where sun and clouds continue their seasonal skirmish. Sunshine is mostly winning, and the day feels fine under a balmy autumn wind that tears leaves off the trees and carries them on whirling rides.
The 15th of the month was payday for me for most of my military career, a day which we looked forward to when I was a lowly paid airman. In the latter stages of my career, the government announced we’d only be paid once per month going forward to save the gov. money. That forced many people to be more circumspect with how they spent, impelling people who habitually went payday to payday, comfortable in the half-month increments, into planning what and when to spend to make it last.
I slept in late today, staying abed until after nine. Wasn’t a plan; cozy and warm, with Tucker, the black and white long hair floof sharing my pillow, purring like an idling tractor, The Neurons said, “Let’s just stay here.” Didn’t even consult me. Then Tucker raised his head and sneezed across my face, ending the sleep-in with a jolt. Rolling out, feet thumping the floor, I hastened to the bathroom and rinsed off my face, giving particular focus to my mouth. I’m not a germophobe but if I was setting up a dating profile, cat drool across my lips would be listed as a turnoff.
I thanked him for getting me up and then went into the feeding ritual. Papi hurried in for his portion, patiently sitting and watching, only vocalizing his needs after I picked up his bowl to set onto the floor. Then it was like Papi was suddenly starving as a hunger-driven long wail of desire was unleashed. Still, as I set the bowl down, he took a few moments to head bump my arm and hand several times and purr before dropping his head to the bowl and plowing in.
As if now making fun of me because I was late, dashing around, muttering to myself, “Got to step it up a few gears,” The Neurons delivered a 1970 song called “Give Me Just a Little More Time” by Chairmen of the Board to the morning mental music stream (Trademark skipping). The song came out when I was thirteen, and I always enjoyed the drama and urgency the vocalist emoted. Some might label it over the top, but I felt some kinship with the message presented as I trekked the hormone trippy path of understanding sex, love, and other emotions as a teenager. I’m still working onit.
Stay positive, be strong, and lean forward. Coffee has been consumed and is kicking in, giving me a heartbeat and clearing the fog out of my head. Here we go. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 