Tag: cats

Thursday’s Theme Music

The house floofs are displeased. That makes them a bit aggro. ‘Tis windy out there, they complain to me. Turn the wind off. I would if I could, kitties, although let me note that winds help the ecosystem. “So you’re not stopping the wind,” they confirmed, and stalked off to sing the blues.

It’s Thursday, April 6, 2023, 48 degrees F., dry with rain coming our way, not too long for now, judging from the uniform gray cloud mass blotting out sun and blue sky from horizon to horizon. 56 F will be our high. Sun shuffles out of the Ashlandia neighborhood at 7:42 Ashlandia Evening Time, while it rose at 6:45.

Could all be worse, yep. Caught by a headline, “478 tornado reports across 25 states: How a mild winter led to destruction”, I read about tornadoes and their destruction in several states. It’s interesting in talking with friends and fam in the northeastern USA that they had a mild winter, not much snow except for a few storms. We in the Pacific Northwest were coping with them it seems. Ah, that’s weather.

I was checking news on Yahoo to mix it up. I like picking random news sites to see what’s being reported around the world. I’m not impressed with Yahoo – haven’t been in a long time – which is why they’re not a regular. After reading Yahoo headlines and clicking to some stories, I read a Dallas newspaper (online) before their paywall blocked me, and FOX59 from Indianapolis.

With tornado stories and the wind whistling past the house here, I suppose it’s natural that The Neurons channeled wind-influenced songs to the morning mental music stream. Last up was “You’re Only Human (Second Wind)” by Billy Joel from 1985. It narrowly beat out “Dust in the Wind”, “They Call the Wind Maria”, and “Candle in the Wind”. Have any preferred winds song on your end, other than Spinal Tap’s “Break Like the Wind”?

Stay pos and be cool. Hope Thursday lives up to your hopes and dreams. The cats have settled. Coffee and lemon cake have arrived. Here’s the tune. Cheers

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Floof Chef

Floof Chef (floofinition) 1. Individual responsible for preparing animal’s meals.

In use: The house floofs knew that he was the floof chef, so they never bothered his wife or anyone else, but as soon as he arrived him, the floofs gathered and pressed him into duty.”

2. Animal who supervises or monitors all food preparation activities.

In use: “As soon as they went in to begin making dinner — a time which was hardwired into the floof’s psyche — the floof joined them to complete his duty as a floof chef.”

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Deceptive-son is here. Ashlandia’s valley is deep with muted sunshine. But on my step out to test it all, winter still holds the ruler’s scepter as cold air keeps temperatures in the low thirties. Birds were plentiful and noisy, urging something that we non-birds didn’t understand. The floofs embraced sunlit spaces and conducted their post-breakfast washup. As J. Denver sang, “Sunshine on my kitties makes me happy.”

It’s Wednesday, April 5, 2023. Beer with friends is in the schedule for this afternoon. Weather spies passed a note that rain is on the way and the high will be 55 F. That’s a twenty-degree step up from now.

Democracy was vigorous in New York yesterday as former POTUS Trump showed up to be arrested. People turned up to protest him and support him, and to challenge ideas and positions. You can say it was an embarrassment for the country or a celebration of the nation’s first amendment.

A series about fast cars ruled the dream sequence. I drove red, silver, and blue cars, Ferraris, Porsches, Mercedes, among others, traveling to different places. Arriving at one place, I’d admired the view and then resume my travels. Sometimes I’d see a different car and know it as mine. Other times, I’d be told it’s mine and given keys. My wife was generally with me. Nothing eventful or untoward happened. I was just driving and enjoying myself.

With cars still revving in my head when I awoke, The Neurons were busy pulling out songs about cars. The one which ended up ruling the morning mental music stream is a ballad, “Drive”, by The Cars, 1984. If you know the song, it’s not about a car, but abut driving. The song embraces rhetorical questions, beginning, “Who’s gonna tell you when it’s too late? Who’s gonna tell you things aren’t so great?”

Enough of this typing. The day awaits. Stay pos and be strong. Here’s The Cars. And, look, coffee, and a slice of iced lemon cake. Ah, good morning.

Cheers

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Floofer Fidelis

Floofer Fidelis (floofinition) – 1. A faithful animal.

In use: “Dogs have been historically cited as being floofer fidelis but people with cats in their household know that there are many felines who are floofer fidelis.”

2. People who are loyal to animals.

In use: “Homeless people, especially veterans, often become floofer fidelis to a furry companion, treating and protecting their floofs with greater concern than they ever show for themselves.”

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Monday’s Theme Music

It’s snowing. Snowed last night, too. Snow accumulated, slipshod in the quantity and depths. Two inches on the house’s northern side. Barely there on the south. Nevertheless, snow in an accumulation has the floofstamp of disapproval. Wind has picked up, too, a double bogey for the cats. There is sunshine but feels like an imitation of actual sunshine, not much glow to its shine, and little heat.

I watch the dogwalkers shuffle past, dogs on leashes behind them. The dogs seem to want to continue smelling and investigating but their stony-faced people want none of that, tugging on leashes, urging the pooches, come on. The dogs particularly like my front bushes, where the cats go in and out of the yard. I see dogs draw up and turn back, expression lively as they hustle back, asking themselves, hey, what’s that smell? That smells interesting. But the unsmelling people pull them on before more than a few olfactory cells can be indulged.

It’s April 3, 2023, for the record. Monday. Up to 34 F now. 28 was our low last night, a very un-Ashlandian spring night, what with snow gently covering the plants. Clouds throng like coeds on a spring break beach. Rain is expected, and a high of 42 F before the sun sashays over the horizon at 7:40 this evening.

A song emerged from people watching while shopping yesterday. A young blonde girl in big rubber boots followed Mom as Mom shopped and talked about what she needed. The girl, who seemed about six in this reporter’s guess, had a blank stare and was totally unengaged. This prompted The Neurons to power up Mick and the Stones with a 1978 country-western song they wrote and performed called “Far Away Eyes”. I heard it off the album, Some Girls, when it was released. Over twenty years later, I discovered a video of it and had a good laugh at Mick’s performance. Found it for you this morning.

Stay pos. Hope your day has begun well and just keeps getting better, and that’s not meant in a sarcastic way. I have coffee, so I’m pretty set for the next five minutes. Here are the Stones. Cheers

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Disappointed and relieved. We’ve had days of buildup about this storm on the way. Well, unlike the Feb & March storms, this one didn’t bother us. Not even on the nearby mountains. Still doesn’t feel like spring out there, though.

It’s 43 F today, Sunday, April 2, 2023. Sunlight is being shy but the clouds have gathered like a clowder of kittens hearing the kibble coming out. High will be 48 F, the weather oracles tell us. I think it might get higher, like 50. A few degrees make a difference in Ashlandia.

I dreamed about cats of my past last night. We — my wife and I — were in the white BMW 2002 we drove in Germany. Pulling off the road, we stopped. We were looking for somewhere, so we got out, asking, “Is this it?” It was a little wiggle of an asphalt road, working through ups and downs between older houses. Suddenly, many floof friends who graced us with their presence appeared, meowing greetings our way. Little Quinn, the fluffy furred gray black foot, was directly behind me when cats we didn’t know emerged and raced toward us. One was a diluted tortie, dashing right for us and Quinn. But tail up, they gave my leg a broadside of fur and went on to Quinn. The two greeted each other like familiars, as did all the cats, presently me with happiness. I mentioned it to my wife but she was walking away, my words unnoticed.

Today’s song is from 1971, by a gifted singer and songwriter named John Prine, who passed from COVID back in 2020. “Hello In There” is about aging and life changes. The Neurons brought it back to me as I watched people at the coffee house and on the streets. Some seemed very old. Now I might be considered old by some, like my wife. She is a year younger than me as she doesn’t fail to remind me. I’m 67.75 years old but as my Mom once answered me when I pointed out that she was getting elderly, “I’m talking about really old people, like 90, or 100.” That was a few years ago. Mom is almost to that age now. Like many, I’m a different age inside, 38 for me. But watching the other folks established in years passing by and pursuing activities, the John Prine song heard in my youth surfaced.

Stay pos and make this Sunday what you want. It’s writing, reading, and shopping for moi. I shall begin with coffee. Here’s the music. It’s a Sunday morning piece, a quiet offering for contemplation.

Cheers

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Saturday’s Theme Music

It’s been raining all night. No sunshine in sight. If clouds are your thing, the sky is a delight.

37 F outside but it’s cozy in mi casa. It looks like day destined for inside activities, like writing, reading, and of course cleaning. Cuz it’s Saturday. Saturday is about cleaning in this casa.

Slept great last night. No cat woke me. Didn’t get up to pee. No, didn’t pee the bed either, those of you who went there, as I would. Had a lengthy, uninterrupted dream about previous employment and co-workers. Sunrise before seven, sunset after 7:30 PM. This is Thursday, April 1, 2023.

The cats not waking me worried this morning. Tucker was on the bed by me, sitting and watching, looking like he thought, oh, good, he’s alive. I won’t need to eat him to survive. Papi was out on the sofa curled up. At my approach, he yawned, stood, stretched, and then join Tucker and I to get some breakfast. Both seemed well. Letting me sleep all night makes me suspicious, though. I wonder what they’re up to.

I have The J. Geils Band playing “Must of Got Lost” from 1974 in the morning mental music stream. I can’t trace the origins or intent for playing this tune. The Neurons tell me, the reason must have got lost, then they cackle like crazy folks.

Stay pos. and enjoy your day. I’m off for brekkie and coffee. Here is the music. Cheers

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