Wednesday’s Theme Music

The wheel has turned. We’re on Wednesday, 3.15.2023. May be a repeat for all I know. Could be a single, moi on his own repeating the day, or a mass repeat — a group, region, tribe, nation, world, see if the outcome changes. We won’t know. Not at our level.

After the rain became snow yesterday, it snowed for nine hours without relief. With temperatures flexing between 33 and 36 F, the very wet snow layered but accumulation ended up as a few thin inches. Rows of slush developed on the roads. I worried about them freezing in place. Even though the temperature drooped to 28 F, the problems didn’t emerge. Now the snow has iced over, sketching patterns on the roads where vehicles traveled.

Several interesting factoids emerged about yesterday’s snowstorm. Mid-afternoon, we queried Alexa about when the snow would stop. She claimed that it was “39 degrees and mostly cloudy. It might rain.” Fifteen miles up the road, friends reported it rained but they didn’t have any snow. Traffic cams confirmed it.

This was all part of an atmospheric river that came to us from down south in California. Watching the radar, the storm shifted east northeast and fragmented.

Sunrise was 7:24, buttery with warming light. Sunset will be at 7:16 PM. 31 F now, a high of 37 F with freezing fog is the forecast. The cats are out, checking. Young Papi trotted on out. Tucker approached the open door and stopped to stare outside. As I began closing the door, Tucker moved to see something, a motion that shouted, “Wait, wait, what’s that?” I saw nothing and figured it was probably sleight of floof to keep me from closing the door.

The Neurons tossed “Spin You Around” by Puddle of Mudd (2004) into the morning mental music stream, a response to my wife and I talking, and her comment about the weather spinning us around.

Coffee is consumed, black, no sugar, French roast. Stay pos. If this is a do-over, try to do your best to shift us toward a more positive direction. Here’s the music. Cheers

Barkalounger

Barkalounger (floofinition) – Place where a dog enjoys relaxing.

In use: “The sofa was the dogs’ favorite barkalounger, gathering on it quickly when it became available, jockeying for the best spot, but the cat often beat them there, and nobody messed with the Queen.”

Friday’s Theme Music

White billows of clouds push and pull across the blue sky. Sunshine bullies the southern and eastern views. “Gorgeous,” the cats say.

I agree with them. This Friday, March 10, 2023, it’s 39 F outside but sunny, with a high of 50 expected. Showers for the next five days, the weather minions tell me with a wink. Highs about 50 F, low of 36. Ashlandia’s weather is sliding closer to its norm. The winds have settled into an infrequent light breeze, but they gave us a rainy tussle yesterday, shoving people around, fighting against car doors being shut, trying to rip hats and clothes off, and mangling umbrellas.

Today’s sun presence began at dawn, a little before 6:32 AM, and will continue for almost twelve hours. All that changes on Sunday. We’re springing ahead. Sunrise won’t be until 7:30 then, but we’ll have more shine on the day’s tail end. Of course, it means less sleep because if I get up at my usual time, it’ll be an hour later.

I have the song, “Magic”, by Pilot (1973) in my head. Dream stuff. In the dream, I was going through an almost empty city looking for magic. While it was a modern city, I wore dusty old white robes, bit torn, with sandals, and had been walking for a long time. At first, I didn’t know what I was looking for but then, in the dream, it came to me, I’m looking for magic. With that, I started the air for magic, following my nose, letting it lead me, and then looking. I came across others and spoke to them about it, and sometimes cars would drive by, but no one was helping me. I stayed on my own. Then, voila, walked around a corner. There was a aluminum briefcase against the wall. With some surprise, I knew it was mine. I thought I’d lost it years before. Opening it, I found magic.

Thinking about the dream later, I kept wondering what did I see in the briefcase that I knew it was magic? But, like the movie Pulp Fiction, I never saw the briefcase’s contents. Gold didn’t come out of my briefcase, though, and I never thought or said it was beautiful. Then, though, The Neurons came through with Pilo out of my childhood.

Stay pos. This is Friday. Pretty exciting, huh? Well, all kinds of approaches can be employed for Friday. Me, it’s Friday, time to write again, woo-hoo. That just might be my coffee shouting. I’ve had a cup already.

Here’s the song. Cheers

Legerdefloof

Legerdefloof (floofinition) – An adroit display of skill or cleverness by an animal.

In use: “Employing legerdefloof with teeth and paws, the golden retriever unwrapped his leash from where it was tied to keep him wandering, and then went over, did the same with his companion’s leash, freeing the two to take off and explore the park.”

Thursday’s Theme Music

Windy is the weather word for today. Windy, as in lots of wind, and it’s gonna get intense. Not hurricane, cyclone, tornado, or typhoon level, no. But hold onto your hats. Or tie them on tight.

Today is Thursday, 3/9/2023. Temperature is 42. We lack snow, fog, and rain at the moment. We offer blue sky, white clouds, and sunshine on this Ashlandia morning. The sun was coming up at 6:33 AM, when Papi did his seal bark to demand exit number three. The window beating to come back in was at 7:05. Ashlandia’s sunset comes at 6:10. We’ll be up to 42 F by then.

Papi is back out now, sitting on the porch, glaring at the wind, very dismayed with the weather. He’ll be wanting back in soon, and then will rest so that he’s fresh for his nightly needs. He is off, victimized by the book club visitors last night. Papi is not one to socialize with people or animals. He’s a loner. When they arrived, he retreated to the master BR and sulked on the bed, listening for one of them attempting to sneak up on him. He’s knockin’ to get back in now. Excuse me.

Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to be gone so long. Had to pay the floof tax and tell him how smart and handsome he is until he said, “Enough,” and dashed off. Those of you with floofs will understand.

Papi is a neat and clean cat, though. Not a fur out of place. Any out of place furs are immediately shed. It’s quite a system.

I dreamed I was trying to remember who sang “Baby Blue”, a song which came out in 1971. As part of my dream effort, I kept watching a black and white static-filled TV screen while older me shouted at younger me, “Bad Finger. It’s Bad Finger.” Younger me would not listen, but kept muttering, “Bad Company?” Arrgh.

It’s a walking song in the morning mental music stream today. Out yesterday, walking today. Winting is back and the sun and cold wind medley was enhanced by things trying to figure out if they should bloom now. All very pleasant, however. Reminded me of youthful moments. The Neurons tossed a Grand Funk song, “I’m Your Captain (Closer to Home)” from 1970 into the mix. It’s a song I often recalled when walking or driving and getting close to home. I often traveled in my youth, and then again in the military, and then again in marketing.

That’s enough of that, I’m sure. Stay pos. Treat Thursday like a golden opportunity and do your thang. Peace out.

Sunday’s Theme Music

The weather floof ran in, energetic with excitement. “It’s snowing!”

“Yes,” I answered, “I told you it was snowing before letting you out six and a half minutes ago.”

“It’s really coming down,” the weather floof continued.

“I know. We can see that through the window.”

“My fur is wet. Feel it.”

“Really?”

Not getting the sarcasm (they never do), the weather floof walked to the kibble. “I’m going to re-energize and then go out and see what the weather is like.”

The weather floof is Papi. He is and forever shall be the ginger menace, the orange blade, flash, and a bunch of other names, including Meep. He originated as Meep when he was the neighbor’s cat for the sound that he made. Now that he’s lived with Tucker for a few years, he’s found a proper meow and only rarely meeps.

He’s right about the snow. It’s really coming down. Seriously, it’s coming down. Not laying or sticking, at 36 F. But snow in March in Ashlandia? That forced a number of Ashlandians to pick their jaws up and put them back in place. How many days in a row have we seen snow? That surprises us, too. Every day, Alexa tells us we have another winter weather advisory. “Snow will start at twelve AM and continue falling until nine PM.”

Skiers are happy, though. “Hey, there’s new powder on Mount Ashland.” Yes, we know.

Dawn began early. It is entertaining to find dawn’s arrival obviating lighting requirements as I feed cats, let them out, and let them back in. We only have two now, down from five. The two we have seem to think that they need to fill the space and use the time previously allotted to the departed cats. Sometimes, I’ll call for the late felines just for these two’s reactions. Ears go back. They check each other and look over their shoulders, probably worrying about ghost cats. That’s all we’d need to make life complete.

Maybe that should be a television series: Ghost Pets.

It’s Sunday, March 5, 2023. Just around the corner from little sister’s birthday. Sunrise was at 6:40 and sunset will be at 6:06. The weather floof says it’ll be chilly and snowy today. Sunlight barely lights up the back of the grey sky of clouds. High temp will be 39 F.

A Neil Diamond song, “I Am I Said,” 1971, flows through the morning mental music stream. My wife asked me (again!) if I was going to do some household task. I replied, “I said I am.” The Neurons took it from there.

Stay pos. Drinking coffee helps me in that regard. Gotta go now. The weather cat wants back out. Cheers

Flooformation

Flooformation (floofinition) – 1. Animal’s ability to change its look, attitude, or behavior.

In use: “Crystal was a sweet little Bombay black with a softly questioning meow, a deeply happy purr, and the most gorgeous black velvet fur. She loved sleeping on laps, but the first sound of an animal fight brought a flooformation into baleful-eyed ninja cat, terrifying other animals — and humans who got in her way.”

2. A change to an animal brought about by care, patience, and/or medical assistance.

In use: “His first years in the neighborhood, Tucker was identified as a black and white terror, a beast unwilling to back down and eager to bring it on. Dental work, patient words, and a home to call his, and his flooformation into a doting lap cat began.”

3. The standard pecking order or line up shared by animals.

In use: “When Michael took the cats for a walk at night — his three, with the neighbor’s big orange cat joining them — they always used the same flooformation, Jade on point, Rocky and Sammy flanking her, and the neighbor cat finishing the diamond as a rear guard. With Michael setting the pace and direction, the five moved as one.”

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