Cogflooftive(floofinition) – Related to thinking about, concern about, or remembering animals. Origins: Midieval Latin, 1586; derived from cognitio (‘learning’ or ‘knowledge’) and floof (‘animal’, ‘bird’, ‘creature’ or ‘fish’).
In use: “Modern dangers of watching videos on Youfloof can include a cogflooftive obsession with how animals are treated or depicted, and how they’re used in movies and pop culture.”
Recent example: “Cogflooftive scientists point to a growing number of anecdotes and videos showing birds and animals’ problem solving skills as evidence that animals are more intelligent than many credit them.”
Floofzees(floofinition) – A wheezing or blustery snoring sound attributed to animals. Origins: United States, 1837, Henry David Floofreau. Floofreau often described the pleasant torpor induced by the floofzees emanating from the animals surrounding him (1837, Thoughts On A Dozing Life: A Guide to Floofy Companions).
In use: “Even though they were small enough to fit in a hand, the five tabbies were soon issuing whistling floofzees which made Connie listen and smile.”
In use: “As Mickey and his wife watched television, he grew aware of Barker’s growing floofzees. After studying the dog for several seconds, he met his wife’s gaze, and both silently laughed.”
Recent example: “Corwin’s extended floofzees expanded in volume and duraction until the ginger cat startled himself awake, jerking up with a wild, green-eyed gaze.”
Greetings to all Earthbound beings. It’s Tuesday, October 10, 2023 — 10/10 — in Ashlandia, where the rain is welcomed and the temperature is chilly. Autumn has swiped brushes over the window’s vistas. Overnight, plums and burgundies have been delivered to compete with green, amber, lemon, and red. Quite a splash for the eyes.
Rain plays metal notes on the roof’s vents. It’s 53 F now and will advance ten degrees up the thermometer before the sun’s retreat.
With this ambience underway, I’ve not checked the news. I’m saving myself for a few minutes more to just ensure my safe little bubble of existence.
I’m eager to continue writing. On the other hand, chords loaded with guilt on sometimes struck. I feel I should be doing more about the house. Part of this is that my wife has a busy week: Food & Friends deliveries yesterday, exercise classes every other morning, and book club Wednesday night, in which she’s the moderator. She takes moderating very seriously.
Besides those pretty standard things, Empty Bowls is on Friday. This is a fundraising effort to fund the city’s charities to help fed, cloth, and shelter the less fortunate and homeless. Local artists and art classes provide bowls. You basically buy a bowl for $25 and fill it with soup. Local restaurants and politicians provide the soups, along with breads.
An annual event, my wife has been preparing the table centerpieces for a decade. The pursuit has become more involved; Peace House, the hosting organization, has less and less resources for the centerpieces. That moves the burden to my wife’s shoulders, so she’s been scrounging for flowers and vases. The ‘vases’ are pint bottling jars. Thanks to one of my friends, we managed to procure enough of those.
All that puts her on edge. But in addition, the Empty Bowls commit also asked her to make some vegan cookies for the event.
Well, my wife isn’t one to refuse such a request. Agreeing added anxiety, though. She went through recipes and made a decision about what to make. We bought the supplies last Friday. The baking will be done Thursday. I wish I could do more to help her, and that’s why I feel guilty for going off and writing.
The cloud-heavy sky has me thinking about the upcoming ring of fire eclipse. Due on Saturday, we’re right on the path’s edge as the eclipse traverses North America but wonder whether the weather will clear enough for us to enjoy a view. Stores and businesses have been selling eclipse glasses for several weeks, but Scienceworks gives them out free. We’ll get them free and then give them a donation, LOL.
I was listening to Papi singing this morning. Papi is my ginger gentlefloof, a slender blade of a feline who exhibits a standoffish air. I’m the only one permitted to properly visit with him, although my wife is making progress with him. He’s skittish and wary to the extreme, a complete 180 from Tucker (our black and white long-haired fellow), who deeply enjoys human company. Papi avoids people and animals.
So, growing cold weather induced me to close the pet door. Papi loves the night and enjoy popping in and out. Coming in to eat kibble, going back out to witness the world. The pet door’s closure forces him to convince me to let him out. He knows I don’t like breaking out of sleep and slipping out of bed to do this, so he now sings the “I Want Out” blues.
The song starts soft and slow, just one gentle note every other minute. Gently the notes build in volume and then begin to come more frequently. Finally, a wail invested with the power of all unfairly imprisoned entities breaks the dark. I usually get up and do as bid with the first few notes. I thought that I’d let Papi sing a while before letting him out, as he has such a beautiful voice.
Naturally, rain and Papi’s blues inspired Les Neurons to conjure blues about rain in my morning mental music stream (Trademark possible). Well, first there was Tina Turner singing about rain on the windows. Then John Fogerty broke in to ask me if I’ve ever seen the rain.
Slipping into the blues, Stevie Ray Vaughn apprised of flooding in Texas. Finally, though, we had Buddy Guy singing “Feels Like Rain”. Buddy’s song struck the right balance of feeling and being so it won honors as today’s theme music. It’s a song I’ve used before as my theme music, basically for the same reasons.
Stay pos, be strong, and keep chill. Coffee has landed; here’s the music. Cheers
Hello, fellow trekkers through life. It’s Monday, October 9, 2023.
Heavy clouds clipped in under night’s cover, announcing autumn was ending our Indian summer flirtation. 65 F now, 66 F is the projected high for Ashlandia, where all ingredients are fresh, locally grown, and organic, except when it isn’t. Showers are expected shortly, the beginning of a local rainfest running this week.
Was tired this morning and didn’t want to leave my bed. Not happy news out in the world, in my mind, right? More war rising and escalating.
But, the cats clarified who has the power and how my desires fit into the morning routines when it comes to decisions about them eating or me sleeping. I also remembered that I’d committed to helping my wife.
Said wife — still the first (I know, it’s a surprise to all of us) — had Food & Friends deliveries scheduled that day. She’d be returning from exercise class, change clothes, swig down his coffee and don some lippy, and then she and I would jump in the car. I’m here driver for this monthly volunteer work.
Our last F&F outing didn’t go great. Three people didn’t answer the door or the food. Typical F&F beneficiaries are elderly, handiapped, or people coping with diseases. So, besides delivering food, F&F’s mission includes ensuring people are okay and don’t need assitance.
We picked up the food at the senior center and perused the list. Three people were off it. We talked about them, hoping they’re okay, wondering about their situation. Two new people had been added. Off we went.
It mostly went well, although there were hitches, such as being short one frozen meal. The biggest issue was that one new man didn’t answer his door. My wife called the number provided; not in service. After knocking more, she wrote a note to him on the official F&F slip and we pressed on.
Afterwards, we went back to his place. Still no answer.
The man lives in an apartment complex. The manager’s office was nearby so my wife went over to speak with the manager about the man. Turns out, the F&F client has a motorized wheelchair. He’s a smoker and likes to go out to smoke. The manager had seen him two hours before, buzzing around the campus.
Calling it a day, we returned to the senior center and my wife documented all that had happened.
The driving and waiting seemed to drain me today. Selfish of me, I reflected, but then again, that’s my writing time. Reactions involving writing doesn’t aways flow down normal culverts of thinking and emotions. Also, I volunteer to help her, and I enjoy it. Just one of those days.
I always wonder, though, what brings people to this point. Thinking about why they might be on a F&F client, I pursue the regular courses of reasons. Genetics, giving disease an unfair advantage. Bad luck, like car accidents and house fires. They might have been victimized by others, or made decisions which seemed to be the thing to do, only to have it all go south.
While sitting in the car, I listened to the radio and waited at one point. “Tailwind” by Kenny Wayne Shepherd came on. I’d only heard the song, which came out in 2019, a few times before. I know controversy about KWS was stirred a few years ago over his ‘General Lee’ replica. The General Lee is an orange ’69 Dodge Charger with a CAS battle flag painted on its roof. The car was featured in a television show called “The Dukes of Hazzard”, which aired from 79 – 85. Overseas most of the time, I didn’t see much of it.
Anyway, KWS had a nomination for Blues Musician of the Year (or some honor like that) rescinded because of his ownership of the car. In his response, KWS acknowledged he had the car but had the CSA flag covered up because he knew it represented racist elements. He apologized for it and stated that he stood against racism and oppression for everyone.
Well, hearing the song, The Neurons kept it going in the morning mental music stream (Trademark confusing) after we’d shifted into the afternoon. So, I’m gifting it to you. The Neurons and I agreed that the lyrics fit my mood.
Sometimes I feel like a man in a can About to go hurtling through Space, whiplash fast Soon as the match hits the fuse Sometimes it seems like I’m making it up Crazy and crazier days When fiction ain’t stranger than the truth Turn the page Turn the page
Roll around the world And around again Someplace we’ve never been Blow a kiss and Fly with the sun See how lightning fast we can run With a little luck We might just catch a tailwind Hey, fellow travelers Keep travelin’
Somedays I swear that the game must be rigged Jokers up every last sleeve And if crooked is straight Then what the hell does that make me
Floofkempt (floofinition) – Being overcome with emotions over news or images of animals, or interactions with animals. Origins: first used in 1991 in New York, borrowed from Middle High Floofman.
In use: “Watching videos of animals being rescued on Flooftube, Jill was clearly floofkempt from the stories being shared.”
In use: “Nancy became a little floofkempt as she talked about senior floof’s final battle with cancer.”
Airfloof(floofinition) – 1. An area secured by animals arriving by air. Origins: Europe circa 1943.
In use: “Using the walls and furniture as a floofcourse, the tabby leaped, jumped, and bounded over the other pets and landed on the bed, showing the rest how to establish an airfloof.”
In use: “Birds were natural at establishing airheads, landing in the birdbath while the cats lounged in the sun.”
2. A silly, scatterbrained, or simple-minded animal. Origins: Floof Angeles, USA, 1971
In use: “True to her reputation as an airfloof, Airy leaped up when the doorbell rang, rushed toward the door, slid to a stop halfway there to wash herself, fell over onto her side, and then trotted over to get her ball as her people answered the door, at which Airy quizzically cocked her head about what was going on.”
In use: “Attacking a ball dustbunnies, Titan slide over the side of the stairs, and then sprinted around in mad airfloof fashion before racing back up the stairs and ambushing the dustbunny ball anew.”
Salutations to my fellow corporeal beings. Saturday, October 7, 2023, has reached has – or we’ve reached it. Indian summer continues its presence in Ashlandia, where the children are hard-working, and the cats often nap.
I believe Indian summer has become my favorite season. It feels as if we’ve been given a reprieve from the wearying matters, like wildfire smoke, drought, excessive heat, politics, and mass murders, and we’re just allowed to be and enjoy the days. Tension and stress slide away under the blue skies and bright sunshine. Night air pulls coolness out of the mountains, dragging temperatures down into a comfortable range of upper fifties to lower sixties. The day’s sunshine and air pushing the temps back up to the upper eighties.
I just need to avoid the net to sustain this feeling. Because we know it’s all out there, and the net will deliver it to you, right or wrong, good or bad. But for now, life is beautiful.
Despite this mood and an armada of dreams, The Neurons had little in the morning mental music stream (Trademark rascally), giving up some Mark Knopfler and David Bowie. I didn’t think those songs were up to the moment, so I turned to the net.
Well, one of the Bowie songs was “Space Oddity”. While checking out a video for it, I discovered the Langley Schools Music Project. This was a series of elementary school children playing and singing rock songs in the 1970s. One recorded song is “God Only Knows” by the Beach Boys. The Langley Schools version is imperfect but sweet and innocent, a comfortable accoutrement to the weather and mood.
Hope your morning is as pleasant, relaxing, and peaceful as my own. The cats, black and white (Tucker) and bright ginger (Papi) are soaking up backyard sunshine, contentedly washing after breakfast. I think I’ll take my coffee out there with them, admire them, feel the sunshine, admire the trees — still green back there — and breathe in the clean, sweet air.
It was The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly in our backyard, if that movie was done by cats.
The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly is a 1966 spaghetti western film. That name, ‘spaghetti western’ was given to a series of western films based on the US west, but generally written, directed, and produced by Italians and filmed in Europe. Sergio Leone was one the leaders of this movement. With a string of successful films, he became influential in how westerns were made. This film was one of his masterpieces and judged by film critics to be significant.
Clint Eastwood starred in several spaghetti westerns, including this one. The movie’s morally complex story is that three gunfighters are searching for stolen gold during the American Civil War. The gold is supposed to be buried in a cemetery. The three men are searching and fighting for it while coping with the war going on. They eventually find the cemetery. A final showdown is set up.
It’s a climatic scene, delivered with long shots of the three gunfighters interspersed with tight close ups of the squinting and sweating sunburned men as flies pester them. These movies were always gritty and tense, with impressively realistic details. A music box is playing – yes, it’s part of the story – along with the titular theme song. When the music box finishes, the gunfight commences and finishes the tale.
My cats, Papi and Tucker, aided by a stranger, recreated the scene in the backyard. A jay provided the background ‘music’. Standing in an equilateral triangle about eighteen feet apart, Tucker and Papi faced off against a gray and white stranger.
Tucker is a black and white long-haired/short-haired mix with crazy long, white whiskers. There looks like some Maine coon in those whiskers, along with his ears and face shape. He used to be a fierce fighter but has finally chilled as he’s aged. Papi, the ginger blade, is years younger. He’s been in a few fights – he was in one just last night – including at least twice with Tucker, but prefers to not fight if fighting can be avoided.
A strong wind was blowing. Tucker was in sunlight on a small knoll on which three trees are perched. Their branches blew wildly over his head. The stranger was back by the wooden plank fence between two bushes. Papi was in shadowed dark green grass. The only movement I saw on the three floofs were small eye slides and ear shifts.
Though Tucker isn’t the right ‘colors’ to be Eastwood, his expression was worthy of being Clint’s character. I could easily imagine a cigar in Tucker’s mouth as he stared down the other.
A few minutes into it, Papi slowly settled into a more comfortable watching posture. Tucker followed suit a couple minutes later, encouraging the third cat to do the same. They stayed like that for about three minutes. Then, Papi, I guess growing bored, looked around and discreetly walked off. Tucker lowered his head down for a nap. The stranger carefully shifted, and then went up the fence and away from the scene.
All very anticlimactic. While it reminded me of the famous movie scene, none of these three participants were ugly. I can’t speak for the stranger, but my two can sometimes be good, or bad. Come to think of it, they’re as morally complex as the gunfighters, and just as entertaining.
Floofverize(floofinition) – To reduce, demolish, destroy, or atomize through a floof’s behavior. Origins: Fifteenth century Italy, from the Late Latin, flofverizare.
In use: “Right from the first day in the house, the four rescued puppies showed remarkable destructive skills, completely floofverizing two pillows and a roll of toilet. These were all a surprise because the puppies had to first escape their kennel, which they did like they were beamed from one place to another.”
In use: “Using some inherent drive, the kittens went outside and floofverized the day lilies, leaving petals and leaves strewn around the patio like plane wreckage.”
Floofspotting (floofinition) – Amateur pastime or hobby of looking for animals, done by animals and humans. Origins: London, 1861, when Zoey Chandler began recording a diary of animals she’d spotted, including the date, time, local, and description.
In use: “Michael was an avid floofspotting fan when he went for walks, with an eye out for deer, cougars, bears, and foxes, along with cats and dogs spying from windows in houses.”
In use: “Sharry, a birdwatcher, was amused when she discovered her fiancee enjoyed ‘floofspotting’, which she’d never heard of (and privately considered a little silly). But his enthusiasm soon caught her up, and she soon declared herself to enjoy floofspotting, though, unlike him, she didn’t record the sights.”
Michael Seidel, writer 