He watched his cats regard one another. Each feline seemed wary and doubtful of the other although they’d lived together for over six years. He believed that both cats thought of himself as the better floof and thought the other was a little crazy. Of course, being the better floof to them also meant that they were due more attention and treats than that other, inferior floofer.
Sunday’s Theme Music
Today is Sunday, you know what that means. It’s May 11, 2023. Mother’s Day in America. It’s a love fest out there.
Beautiful day here, too. Yesterday’s temps peaked at 88 F around my house, and it was gorgeous. Spirit lifting and energizing. Today appears much like yesterday. Sky is sick with blue and sunshine. High of either 88, 90, or 97 F predicted. Warm, busy wind today. Invigorating, peeps. Cats are totally digging it, parading in and out of the house for a while until finding just the right spot for a warm spring morning nap. Don’t really know where Tucker is squatting but he’ll show up come kibble time.
Merry Mom Day to all it celebrate it. Hope it’s a grand day.
Mom has received the card, letter, and chocolates I sent her. She’s pleased. As two sisters and many grands and great-grands live within half an hour of her or so, MD is always done up. Mom is more limited now, uses a walker, gets tired easily, so plans will be different. Uncle Billy’s funeral was last night, too, so that’s put a damper on Mom’s spirits. I’ll get a full report later.
Nephew — little sister’s number two son — is marrying this year. We’re busy getting clothes and making plans to fly to the PA area for that. Since we’ll be on the east coast, we’ll go down south to visit other family, too.
Today’s theme music came about when someone talked about something going on. Several others and I said, “I can help,” and “Me, too,” and all that. The Neurons took that opportunity to re-acquaint me with Billy Swan’s 1974 song, “I Can Help”. Ubiquitous — on numerous radio stations of rock, pop, and country persuasions — he also showed up on television. It’s another one of those songs that landed and splashed and I rarely heard again. But you get to hear it today as Sunday’s theme music.
Stay pos, make the day worthy of being alive if you can — I know too well, limiting forces muscle us around — and enjoy coffee. Coffee: it brings out the best in me.
Here’s the music. Cheers
Unbefloofed
Unbefloofed (floofinition) – To be without an animal or animals, especially farm animals or housepets.
In use: “His dog passed a week after the cat, both startling, sudden events, and he found himself unbefloofed for the first time since he’d become an adult, opening the door for a crow to come into his life.”
Saturday’s Theme Music
May 13. Saturday. 2023.
The sun rose before me, a little before six AM. Gonna be hot again. 63 F now. Some say it’ll reach 86 F in Ashlandia. Others pronounce 90 will be the temp top. 97 F is in others’ forecasts. All three may actually be right, depending upon which part of the city you’re in. I believe we’ll see 91 in my locale. Hit 82 F yesterday.
Gorgeous out there right now. All green and blue. Mellow mountain breeze is sloping down into the open back doors. The cats come in, come by me for a welfare check and to see if I’m eating or doing anything of interest, and meowder back out.
Yardwork is in my future after the writing session, as the last rain cycle caused weeds to explode in height and density. I’ll cull the dandies a bit but we let them stay. Bees like ’em.
Terrible dream last night. Vivid and intense. Took me about an hour before slumber crawled back in me.
But the day’s song comes from a walk yesterday. Up from the wells of 1969 came “Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man” by the Bob Seger System. Found an interesting video of it being performed by a young and beardless Bob Seger. Never seen him without a beard. I always believed he was born with a beard. The set is fascinating as well. It’s an energetic rendition.
Stay pos and take Saturday like a happy pill. Coffee is tugging my leash so I’m going on. Here’s the beats as heard over fifty years ago. Cheers
Floofflee
Floofflee (floofinition) – When one or more animals run, fly, or swim away at great speed from a real or perceived threat.
In use: “Michelin was a large dog with a muzzle greyed with time, but he could floofflee with the best whenever booms broke the air, no matter their source.”
Flooftibulate
Flooftibulate (floofinition) – 1. A hidey hole or location, such a corner, where animals like to hide or sleep.
In use: “Tucker’s favorite flooftibulate is outside, behind a pillar and under a bush where he can’t be found without hard
searching, yet the sun manages to steal in and warm him.”
2. A floof behavior of finding a place to hide.
In use: “Though he was a large dog, when guns were fired, a car backfired, or fireworks went off, Conor would flooftibulate, not
moving until the noise was done, and he was found and reassured that the world wasn’t ending.”
PUBLISHING NOTE. Sorry about the format. Not WYSIWYG, because that’s not how it looked when I was creating it. Had to stop and copy everything into Word and then start over and paste back in because WP once again when into its Autosave freeze.
Tuesday’s Theme Music
The sun bulled its way over the horizon and into Ashlandia’s sky a few ticks before six AM. It’s Tuesday, May 9, 2023, and 45 degrees F out there. Rain deliveries through the past five days have encouraged the town to show off multiple greens. Jade, emerald, pine, leafy, grassy — the greens flourish under the immaculately blue sky. Not promising anything, the weather criers say, but it’ll be in the upper sixties today. The sun’s end time in Ashlandia’s environs will be after eight this evening.
Went walking yesterday, a favorite pastime. Two miles, one and a half of it in steady rain. Lovely. Got home wet with rain and sweat. Lovely. Felt good to be back in the rain and feel the sweat dripping and rolling, plastering my hair under my hat.
I continue scoring on the dream front. Last night brought visits from Sean Penn and Brad Pitt. Woke up chuckling to myself, mumbling, that was a great dream. Then I went through it, writing it all down after I got up, one of three dreams covered in today’s dream journal entry.
The cats are adjusting to the improved weather. So are other cats. Thus there was floof showdown on the front porch. A young gray cat has been showing up around the neighborhood for the last two months. Seems healthy, but just going around doing feline business. They’ve encountered Papi the ginger wonder before, but apparently last night was a surprise for the two and face to face. It’s post event speculation for us. We only know that the floof warnings went off like air-raid sirens for the Battle of Britain. Dashing to the front door, we saw the two. Of course, Tucker, the black and white lord of thunder heard it all and galloped out, too, shouting, “To battle.” Seeing the situation, gray cat departed. Papi pursued but lost the trail. He and Tucker took up stations to ensure they’d be there, should the interloper return.
Today’s music comes from “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel”. We’ve been watching it recently and have plowed into the third season. The song, by the Poppy Family, is “Where Evil Grows” and was put out over fifty years ago. I heard it on the radio a few times back then before it disappeared. But it shows up on television shows and movies once in a while, never on the radio, that I ever hear. Anyway, hearing it enlivened The Neurons, and they plugged it into the morning mental music stream, advertising it as nostalgia. The song’s writer is Terry Jacks, better known for “Which Way You Going, Billy” and “Seasons in the Sun”.
Ah, the train is rolling through, tooting its own horn, ensuring everyone is aware of its royal self as it rumbles through town. Stay pos, keep living the good life and fighting the good fight, wherever it may take you. My efforts are taking me to the coffee. Here’s the tune. Give it a listen. Cheers
Friday’s Theme Music
I’m counting down the days to Friday. This is Friday, so Friday’s a week away. Seven days. Then I’ll be counting down again.
Calendars help that. Instead of counting down to Friday, we count down to a date. Today is May 5, 2023, Cinco de Mayo. There will be some joy and celebration going on, parties and drinking and eating. Socializing. Dancing. Then we resume the countdown to the next special date. Mother’s Day, I think, in ‘Merica. May 14, 2023. Although several family birthdays are between now and then.
Spring is firmly in control this week. The cats are enjoying it, in the mid-forties at night, fifties to sixties during the day, a little dribble of rain. Early sunrise, late sunset. Blossoms out, leaves returning, people ogling trees’ pink and whites, exclaiming, “Aren’t they pretty?”
Feeling a little tired today. A dream flotilla sailed on and on through the night. Out of nowhere this morning, The Who were summoned by The Neurons to perform “You Better You Bet” (1981) in my morning mental music stream. The Neurons aren’t admitting to anything about why the ’81 song is playing.
Coffee is in order. Breakfast — oatmeal with nuts, seeds, raisins, and cranberries — has been et, along with a pinwheel pastry which my wife made, puff pastry and honey with crushed walnuts and pistachios. Most tasty.
Stay pos. Keep counting the days. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 