Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Parroof (floofinition) – ‘Parrot Floof’: an animal or bird which enjoys resting on people’s shoulders.
In use: “Barry became known as Parrot, because the parroof was always seeking to rest himself on Klein’s shoulder, which wasn’t bad when Barry was a puppy barely larger than Klein’s hand, but more daunting when the Tibetan Mastiff achieved his full growth.”
We got you Wednesday here. *wince*. July 5, 2023. Back to work, ye scurvy dogs. 2023 is more than half gone. On the bright side, you have less than half left. *wince* Time is running up on you. You, me, and the rest.
Gonna be 97 F today. *wince*. Good thing it’s Wednesday. Meeting with friends to indulge in some cold beer. We’ve divided between the light and the dark sides. The light side will be partaking of an IPA while the dark side is going for ale, because it’s summer, and some of them don’t like their beer too dark in the summer.
Ah, such strange dreams this morning in the dark hours. *wince*. Don’t know what they meant, if anything. We had root beer floats with friends on their deck last night, another of our traditions. We usually watch fireworks with them. I’d rather not have the fireworks. Animals and environment don’t need that kind.
Fireworks were illegal this year in Ashlandia, where the bus doesn’t go all the way uptown and the children are chauffeured. Too dry and hot. Still beset by drought. Yet, there will be some who will set off their fireworks cause, ‘Merica. Freedom. Tucker didn’t mind them. Papi, though, hid out for hours. He’s okay this morning but he wasn’t a happy floofy last night.
Today’s music is “Stranger Blues” with Steve Miller and Peter Frampton. Just cause I like the sound, and not because of something said last night, causing The Neurons to start playing it, where it still plays in the morning mental music stream.
Stay pos, be chill, and don’t let the boogerheads get you down. Coffee is served, sir. Here’s the music. Enjoy, please.
Cheers
She: “I need to wash those front windows. The cats got fingerprints all over them.”
He, who might take things too literally: “Fingerprints. Really?”
I dreamed I was traveling through space. My house and its lot had been lifted away from the Earth, and there we went, soundlessly zooming through space. After thinking in the dream, is that what’s happening, I was given a distant perspective that confirmed, yep, there I go, with the house, wife, cats, and yard.
I pointed it all to my wife, calling to her as she did something in another room. All I had no idea what our destination was and had questions — was I onboard a larger ship, and who launched us like this — I enjoyed being out there. I was exactly as I now am, as was my house and yard. I saw this from a temporary external position, as though I needed to see it, before returning into my body. Settling behind my desk in my home office, I resumed my typing.
I awoke abruptly. In panic, I thought, where are the cats? Where are Tucker and Papi? Did I put them out? OMG, did I put them out in space? But if I put them out into the yard, wouldn’t they be safe, because it’s — it’s — wait.
Confusion mounting and taking over, I stumbled away from bed, thinking, where am I now? What should I do? If I open the door, would it — what would happen? But —
I’d been in space. But wasn’t that a dream? Or was I now dreaming? Neurons regrouping, we agreed with a laugh, being in space was the dream. Reality was that I was home, securely part of the Earth. But I went out and found the cats, ensuring they were really okay, just in case, you know, and then gazed up at the stars and moon for a few seconds with recollection of the dream.
Floofuency (floofinition) – Human’s ability to communicate with, understand, or empathize with animals. People with floofuency are often known as whisperers, i.e., horse whisperer, dog whisperer, cat whisperer, etc.
In use: “Some thought Mick’s floofuency came from living with many animals during his life, but in truth, his floofuency emerged when he met his first cat, a tabby the family adopted and named Tiger.”
This is it, the final countdown, the last rodeo of the June 2023 season. Today is Friday, June 30, 2023. We blast off into July, 2023 tomorrow. To mark it, the weather directors have punched our temps up into the high nineties. Decent humidity, though, the kind that isn’t felt, but nor is it dry.
Had a wild dream night. Local scamper floofs A & B, commonly known as Tucker and Papi awoke me at 4:46 AM. Tucker did the awakening, tapping my hand with a claw until I began petting him. He wouldn’t be denied. Drifting through half-warm thoughts, I began working on my novel in my head. Finally fell asleep and dreamed, interweaving novel fixin’s with dream fixin’s. Papi then was in, eating — crunch, crunch — which, yeah, great, but then, he cried because he wanted out, and Tucker was a few feet away from the pet door, outside, watching, and Papi just don’t trust Tucker. He finally escaped because Tucker came in through the pet door, leaving the opening on the other side unguarded, letting Papi make a break. I put this altogether by hearing a noise, raising my head, peering, observing, and then lowering my head and trying to return to sleep. Reprised the dream/writing cycle, got interrupted by Tucker vigorously employing his scratching pad, returned to dreaming/writing, and then Tucker came back to request more finger action.
Writing while in bed trying to sleep is never good for me. I get into it, it excites me, and The Neurons won’t back down, and then the muses move in and provoke The Neurons. Then, though, then, the muses began playing Eddie Money, “Think I’m In Love” (1982) in the morning mental music stream. Six thirty came so I got up, opened windows and doors, and welcome a cup of coffee into my life.
Opened openings to combat the coming heat. We have air and it works fine but I’m not an A/C person. Dislike them in stores, restaurants, movie theaters, and the house, Just feels so damn chill to me. Rather sweat a bit. But most Americans seem adverse to sweating. One of those peeves for me.
So, here’s Eddie Money and the band. Let’s raise a toast to June’s final day. My toast has butter and grape jelly. BTW, you know how hard it is to get organic grape jelly these days? Most of ’em are loaded with high-fructose corn syrup, to which, as a progressive, I say, no thanks. Oh, well. Stay as pos as you can. Cheers
Back at the homestead. Something is barking outside. Sounds like a sea lion barking up a storm. Understandable, as he’s in the mountains. Probably asking directions for the coast.
It’s Thursday, Jun 29, 2023. Folks are active outside on this cool 62 F morning in Ashlandia today, where the seniors are busy and the coffee shops are crowded. We’re lookin’ fer 90, 92 F, sumpin’ in that area, today. Protect your skin, and hydrate. It’s a no-cloud zone for now.
Coffee drinking has commenced. The cats have been in and out, tickled by their space, entertained by a jay’s activities, soothed by a breeze, warmed by the sun. The jay is always out there doing things — well, dusk to dawn — sorry for the hyperbole — an epitome of energy. Depressing to watch their busy self. Makes me feel like a sloth in comp.
In sad news, sunrise has backed up to 5:37 AM. A moment of silence for the lost minutes. Next thing you know, it’ll be November and the sunrise won’t be comin’ ’round till after seven.
Has been a fast year. I always think that it’s just me feelin’ so but my wife said to me, “It feels like it’s too soon for the fourth of July.” I agree. Feels like we’re shooting through 2023 like a slick uncooked turkey through buttered fingers.
After I began ruminating about time, The Neurons just took off runnin’ with it. Don’t know ’bout you, but that’s how my neurons do. Then people are asking, “You look like you were thinking about something.” You reply, “I think I might have been but I don’t know what it was.” Anyway, The Neurons reacted with “Time Is Running Out” by Muse (2004). I enjoyed the video back when it was released, just under a year before we moved from California to Oregon. Liked those military folks around the table, oblivious and yet doing things as a synchronized act. After my military career, that felt right to me.
Stay pos, and don’t let the bedbugs bite. Here’s the music. Cheers
TL/DR – went up north to get my REAL ID. An overnight trip. The cats are happy we’re home. Gonna get hot here in the next few days.
A late post to the day. We’ve returned to Ashlandia, where the temperature is 85 F, the time is 7:07 PM, and the people are sweaty. Been away today, heading north on the great driver license quest yesterday. See, I turn 67 next week and license expires. Being over 65 means renewing must be done in person so they can check my eyes, a fifteen second step in the entire process. But let’s go back to the start.
Got the notice a few months ago and began to plan. First thing I learned is that Ashlandia’s DMV office is open three days a week, seven hours on Tuesday and Thursday, and six hours on Wednesday. Second, the line gets long very quickly. People are outside an hour before, waiting for the office to open. Third, there are no appointments available. I tried making one for weeks, again, again, again, again, again.
I checked the Medford DMV, twenty-five miles up the road. No appointments to be found — again, again, again, again, again. Next was Grants Pass, fifty miles away. No appointments. But Canyonville, up Interstate 5, 85 miles away, had appointments. So I will go, I decided. My wife said she would accompany so we decided that we’d go on to Eugene to shop for books, shoes, clothes, and stay overnight. See, a wedding is coming up in a few months. Quite formal, one of my nephews, and we’re gonna be there.
After making the appointment, I told several friends about my efforts. One related that his son just renewed his license. I don’t know why he didn’t do it online, but he went down to the DMV office in Medford, where he resided, four times. Finally arrived one morning half an hour before the office opened. Got in line. Finished four hours later.
I could have done that, I suppose, just keep going to the DMV and getting in line and waiting, rather than racing up the highway. But a road trip is more fun than sitting around for me.
Anyway, one of the other friends mentioned that he’d tried renewing in Ashlandia, and then in Medford, and found the waits exasperating. As he and his wife had to go to Portland, they stopped in Canyonville. He walked into the DMV and had it all done in minutes.
Well, I arrived yesterday at the Canyonville DMV fifteen minutes before my appointment. Walked in. One person working in there. Fifteen people waiting. Everyone had a number. But I had an appointment. Where do you go if you have an appointment? There was no guidance.
The person being served finished. The sole agent called for the next number. I headed toward the counter. A woman leaped up and said, “I have a ten fifty appointment.” Her name was checked, appointment verified. I said, “I have an eleven o’clock appointment.”
The agent said, “Wait on the red carpet. That way, we’ll know you have an appointment.”
Ah, the red carpet, of course! The three by three foot red carpet. How could I have not known that? That’s how her friendly but snarky tone sounded.
A little after eleven, a second agent snuck into the work area and called the next number. I said, “Excuse me, but I’m standing on the red carpet!”
Quickly the agent bowed. “Please forgive me and come forward.”
No, just in my imagination. Actually, I just told the new agent what I had an eleven o’clock appointment. She asked me my name and we began. It was a quick ordeal, barely long enough to call it an ordeal. Funniest part was that I wear glasses to drive but forgot to put them on when I did the eye exam. “Perfect,” the agent said. “Do you wear contacts?”
“No, I just forgot to wear my glasses.”
Supposed to get hot tomorrow, with sunshine exploding with heat and dry, calm air moving it, the low nineties are anticipated. Gonna be that way, getting warmer, for a few weeks, not just in Ashlandia, but in southwestern Oregon.
Returning today, the cats were happy to see us. Papi was relieved to be allowed back outside. Although we have a pet door installed, Tucker likes sleeping in front of it, blocking Papi’s progress and giving him stress and anxiety. So, pet door were closed, and the cats were locked in the house together with food and water for about thirty hours. Blocked windows provided them with fresh air and kept the place cool.
Today’s music came about after we watched Taylor Mac’s 24-Decade History of Music last night. It’s amazing, incredibly creative, fascinating in so many ways, and a showcase of impressive talents by multiple individuals. I surfed the net for more info about it this morning. I ended up coming a “Better Together” with Jack Johnson being done as part of Song Around the World/Playing for Change. I offer it up to you.
Stay strong, be cool, and continued to have brightly positive, as you can, when you can. Here’s the music.
Cheers
Floofcological (floofinition) – Mental or emotional state of a person or animal arising from or related to thoughts or worries about animals, or observations about animals.
In use: “Her floofcological state always became anxiety-frazzled when she was forced to go away on visits and not be with her floof friends, although the ability to see and talk to them via a security system helped restore her calm each night.”
Michael Seidel, writer 