Tag: floofs

Twozdaz’s Theme Music

Sunshine rose over the western mountains and trees and waxed into a blazing orb, splashing light and warmth all Ashlandia and the valley where I reside. Blue sky followed like a puppy gamboling on a walk with their human. Temperatures hurried from 25 F to 33 F in fast time. Snow keeps melting. Athough full duvets cover many parts of the land, the thickness on the backyard furniture looks like it’s down to seven inches. A high temperature of 37 F is conceivable, ‘they’ say. They had it right yesterday, so optimism overflows me today. Yesterday was a pleasant winter day.

This is Twozda, February 11, 2025.

Yesterday’s sunshine overjoyed the house floofs. After some geographic jockeying over whether it was better inside or out, they found sunlit places inside and made like melting pools of fur for a few hours. And that is a weirdly rewarding, reassuring sight, to walk in and see floofs deeply relaxed and asleep.

Today’s music was born in a dream, one of three dreams remembered from last night. I won’t go into any dreams here, although I probably will address one of the shorter, sharper ones in another post. The song was written by Laura Nyro and covered by Blood, Sweat, and Tears. Released in 1969, “And When I Die” is circulating my morning mental music stream like music coming in over a grocery store’s loudspeaker system. I always enjoyed the song’s straightforward lyrics and their message. Wasn’t too found of the actual melody, which seemed sort of old fashioned to my young ears. It’s remarkable, though, that she wrote the song when she was seventeen and sold it to Peter, Paul, and Mary. Nyro was such an impressively talented individual.

I popped into the kitchen a little while ago. Coffee was there and said hello. We started chatting and before I knew it, I had a cup in my hand. Hope you have a strong yet restful and satisfying day. It’s not impossible. Hope you enjoy the musical interlude. Cheers

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Sunda’s Theme Music

Good mornin’! It’s Sunda, February 9, 2025. Sunshine is crowding the window, pressing its rays up against the glass. We started the AM at 25 F in my locale but the sun soon had us soaring past 33 F. ‘They’ tell us 43 is possible. Don’t know if their fingers were crossed behind their backs.

The sun has been working its magic. Trees and bushes are pushing their heavy lids of snow back and stretching and flexing into their normal postures. Seeing sunshine, both floofs clamored to escape the house. Checking on them later, the two sat, eyes closed, soaking up rays on the patio’s sun-warmed cement. After being sun-doused, they returned to the house. One is now napping on a bed while the other is in a chair in sunshine snoozing.

What a night of dreams. Another military dream was among them. Classic of these dreams, I’m in the military again, and again coping with a uniform malfunction. In other words, I was out of compliance and trying to solve that. It’s my version of being pantless in school. But a twist arrived when an officer accosted me and asked, “What are you doing?” I figured he was going to ladle grief on me for my uniform. I whipped out an explanation and told him I was trying to rectify it. “Why?” he responded, surprising me. Then he added, “You retired.”

Oh, yeah.

That sunshine had me thinking, I hunger for a bouncy, energetic song. Something as an antitdote to PINO Trusk’s destruction. Drifting back into time, The Neurons surfaced with a Who offering from 1972. Although the video is silly with them miming playing their instruments and singing, the infectious blending of instruments stirred the kind of hope I felt when I was sixteen. That — and coffee — is just what my spirit ordered.

Coffee saved me again. Brekkie is done, cats are fed. Time to gen up other activities. Hope your day serves you well. Cheers

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Monday’s Floof

Monday’s floof has a pretty face.

Tuesday’s floof likes to run and race.

The floof born on Wednesday has an appetite for love,

While a floof coming to life on Thursday is a gift from above.

Friday’s floof is fond of the sun,

And Saturday’s floof exists just for fun.

But Sunday’s floof has a little of all,

Enjoying life and having a ball.

-Ancient Floofverb

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Ashlandia is soaking in blue sky and sunshine. The temperature has topped 33 degrees F. But the good weather news is that the conditions causing the stagnant air has ended. Besides causing an accumulation of pollution and reducing the air quality, stagnant air in the winter seems to amplify the cold. Feels like that cold air is just marching walls. Maybe that’s just my impression but when I mentioned it to friends, they agreed that they noticed the same. Anyway, we’ll going to scale the thermometer all the way up into the fifties again. A cold spell is on the way, though. Don’t know if it’ll bring any snow; we still have not had winter snow.

The cats inspired The Neurons this morning. The floofs began singing ‘feed me’ while I was still burrowed in my warm bed. Each took turns entering the room to sing, “Feed me.” Soon, their singing had taken on the cadence of a 1998 song by Sixpence None The Richer called “Kiss Me”. Not long after that, “Kiss Me” chased the dreams out of my head and was circulating in the morning mental music stream. I have no choice but to make it today’s theme music for this Saturday, January 25, 2025. You should mark this day as special, because historians say that there will never again be a 1/25/2025. I don’t know if you believe that, because historians are a flighty bunch, prone to partying and making wild claims.

Speaking of kissing, coffee and I have made up and kissed. There was just a small spate, brought on by my quasi-firm rule not to drink coffee after 4 PM. It hurt coffee’s feelings. So I had to apologize to it this morning, reassuring it, “Of course I’ll drink you after four.” Had to repeat it a few times because coffee was like, “You’re just saying that.” But coffee finally accepted, and now I’m drinking it again.

Hope you have a strong day in your location, no matter your activity, although certain restrictions about murder and abuse apply. Here’s the song. It’s a solid soft rock-pop offering with delicate folksy overtones. Hope it helps your Saturday on its way. Cheers

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Twosda’s Theme Music

Mood: Merryholidaysism

December 24, 2024 has claimed Twosda in Ashlandia, where the beer is local and cold. Rain fell in clunk drops all night, yielding to an un-Christmasy morning fog. Rain and sunshine have since warred around 43 degrees. Low will be 36 F and the high will be 46 F, cutting a narrow band through the day.

While Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) has shrugged off the weather and remains inside, Butter Butt (previously known as Papi the ginger blade, but also once known as Meep) continues his rigorous testing to verify that better weather is not available through a different door. Several times when he was left in through the front door, he immediately galloped to the back door for egress, as if time was now some critical aspect of his testing.

Beer with friends was done last night as we slid our weekly greet and drink up from Wednesday to Monday due to some holiday happening on Wednesday. Small gathering of the faithful but family members augmented our numbers. A fun time was experienced, as it always is. We raised our glasses in salute of new possible states, Canada, Greenland, and Panama, the latest things PINO-elect Trump has floated. TBS, except for Canada, he hasn’t actually proposed these places be states. As always, he vaguely intones what might happen, suggesting anything is possible. Anything except sanity, sure. Someone suggested Trump has generated more weirdness-based statements because other world events drew the news media’s attention; he thus issued ideas to get the spotlight back on hisself.

I took it on myself to walk the .75 miles down to the watering hole and back. I’ve done the walk many times and know that it used to take me fourteen minutes. Going wasn’t too far of a challenge, as it’s a slight downhill slope all the way, and it was early-ish, and the weather was almost balmy. Returning up the hill, buffeting by wind, spit on by rain, a few pints sloshing around inside me, consumed twenty-two minutes. By the end, my foot was a flaming riot of irritation. Some tender care and soothing words made it right in a while.

In accordance with the rules and customs, I would now air my grievances, as it’s part of that holiday, Festivus. But I’ve pretty much aired my grievances all year, not holding back to wait for one day to spout off. With that out of the way, I turn attention to the music. Staying with the whole X-mas idea, The Noel Neurons brought Eric Clapton singing and playing “Cryin’ Christmas Tears” to the morning mental music stream (Trademark wrapped). Hope you enjoy it.

Hope your days are comfy and joyous no matter what holiday you celebrate, or if you celebrate none at all. Here’s the music. Back to my regularly scheduled coffee and writnig. Cheers

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Floofdulum

Floofdulum (floofinition) – An animal which swings back and forth between two or more activities, locations, or activities. Origins: From Flooftin, circa 1659.

In Use: “Many pet floofs become floofdulums as they age, rotating between eating and sleeping, eating and sleeping.”

In Use: “Crystal was a staunch floofdulum, sleeping in bed with her people at night, moving to the sunny living room in the morning, and then joining her people on the sofa in the evening.”

In Use: “Wanting to eat everything available, Sir Bear became a floofdulum, dashing between food bowls in search of every last bite.”

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Sinda’s Theme Music

Mood: Sindawriting

The calendar declares that winter has officially entered the stage. Still feels more like a good fall rather than early winter in Ashlandia, where Teslas are found around every corner. A riled up wind is carousing around the neighborhood, stirring things up. Doesn’t sit well with our floofs. Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) says, “Merci, non.” But Papi the ginger blade insists on thinking, “Maybe it’s different now,” every fifteen minutes. Temperature isn’t bad at 49 F on this winter day, Sinda, December 22, 2024. Light rain and a high of 52 F are expected. Visuals say, yeah, that can be done. Clouds in varying densities from sheers to cotton layers in heather, oatmeal, off-white, and charcoal, pleasingly illuminated with eastern rising sunshine, set off against brittle blue sky, parade along the sky walk.

Today’s song is “Boys Don’t Cry” by the Cure. I don’t know why it’s in the morning mental music stream (Trademark blustery). I only remember one dream and it seems wholly unrelated to its tale of databases, strawberries, and fried food. Just in the kitchen, bustling about with floof feeding activities as Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) asks again about when he’s going to have his order delivered. Click, clink, bonk, the song is playing in the mmms and I’m humming along.

Done with the morning cuppa. Went down well. Brekkie is finished. Dressing’s final touches of shoes, socks, coat are needed, then I’m off to the coffee shop to cavort with muses and do the keyboard finger dance. Hope your day gives sublime satisfaction, no matter which season or weather elements are encountered.

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Munday’s Theme Music

Mood: Mundacity

Yeah, it’s Munday, December 2, 2024. Just a couple notes on it. Temp is rising and falling between 26 and 28 F. Sun is kicking in. First strokes can be witnessed in the dining room’s southern window, which catches the sun’s approach from the southeast as it jabs through and around trees branches. Fog is doing a swirling veil dance. Alexa said it’ll be 56 F today. Same claim made yesterday and we barely topped 43, so I know where I’m putting my money.

Many people don’t realize the Monday as a day of the week comes from Middle English mondeyne which itself is derived from Late Latin, mundanus. It all means ‘common place’ as in ‘nothing special’. Boring. Routine. Mundane. Monday. Munday.

Trump continues with his authoritarian cabinet o’ clowns. Mockpaperscissors shares a scope outta the New Yorker about the dishonorable Pete Hegseth. True grrrspiring stuff about his drunken leadership and how he sexualizes women. Nice note about his drunken chants, “Kill all Muslims!” Bet those Muslims who clamored for Trump over Harris are creaming their pants with pleasure over that. Who coulda known that Trump woulda picked such a piece of meat for a high-rankin’ gubment position. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.

My wife asked me last night how old I thought Papi was. We reminisced about his interactions with us. He first showed up on a fence back when Scheckter, one of the original Orange Boiz, was still alive. Papi, then called Meep for his tiny meow (yeah, he’s grown outta that), showed up on the backyard fence like a little Scheckter mini me.

Scheckter

Meep aka Papi

Records show Meep has lived with us since May of 2017. While Schecter was warm and sweet, Meep, I mean Papi, remains guarded and wary. When I informed my wife of my research, she remarked the same about the two floofs. Scheckter was a cuddler and lap dweller; Papi has been on my lap once for three pico seconds.

Dreams inspired The Neurons’ music choice today. I was reflecting about a dream of a levitating train I was driving through an apocalyptic ‘Merica. Thinking about the dream highights, I noted that it was a simple life of travel in the flying train with a small group of people. The Neurons shook my head. Out came No Doubt with “Simple Kind of Life”. “And all I wanted was a simple thing, a simple kind of life” keeps circulating the morning mental music stream (Trademark freeze-dried).

Sunshine owns all the living and dining rooms’ windows now. Blue sky speckled with withdrawn clouds rule the view. It’s 30 F. Coffee and I have found common ground again. Look up and open your eyes. Take a deep breath. Inhale; exhale. Here we go, December’s first Munday. Hope it’s a wonderful one for you. Cheers

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Mood: umgagleah

Hello. Welcome to Saturday, October 18, 2024.

Beautifully autumn outside. Trees blaze, showing off fab colors. Blue sky highlights the look as the sun beams on it like a doting father. We’re up to 62 F after an overnight shift into the upper thirties. 74 F degrees is being held out a possible high.

My floofs are on this weather like children going after their Halloween candy. It’s perfect feline weather for the moment. Each boi has staked out sunny spots and are living up to their stereotypes as well-groomed, sun-loving beasts.

We received our latest COVID Jab — or COVAB, as I put to others but it’s not catching on. Went much like our first jab back into 2021. First hours, okay. Last night, the vax slammed me down and wouldn’t let me up. I crashed in a big way. Wrapped up in sheets and blankets, my head felt like a match that’d been struck and was burning. Then I spent a period of shivering uncontrollably.

After about thirteen hours of sleep, I forced myself out of bed. The cats helped. They’re like, “Dude, we must be fed and let out. Come on, get your priorities straight and get your ass out of bed.”

So I arose like a creaking suit of armor. Made my path to the kitchen where coffee was administered. Coffee is a wonder drug, don’tcha know. Anyway, I thought along the lines of being out of sync physically and mentally, a condition that borders on being called ‘sick’. The Neurons began playing Jackson Browne and “Doctor My Eyes”. Grazing through the net, I found this version from “Playing for Change”. Hope you like it.

Stay positive and test negative. Get the jab, as it will help, in the long run. Here’s the music. Where is my coffee?

Cheers

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: Coffeecool

We rocked and rolled into another autumn day. Blue skies, no clouds, lots of vapor trails.

Another Tuesday. Another October — my 69th October. I’m 68 but we don’t start counting until we’ve been alive for one year and I was born in July. And ‘nother 15, as this is 10/15/2024.

As the new weather norm goes, it was chilly, in the low fifties at night. Sunshine thrust in past trees and over mountains as the Earth rotated. The thermometer began clawing its progress up the scale. Now at 62 F degrees, 72 F might be here at 4 PM. Rain is anticipated at 5 PM, and that’ll change everything.

The wind is still and the air is clear.

This is floof weather. The boys — Papi and Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) — settled into favorite sunshine-favored spots in the backyard grass. Napping followed grooming, with interruptions to head lift for disruptive noises. But all is well for them.

They — the cats — inspired The Neurons’ music choice today. I checked on them after dressing. Seeing them in their sunshine spots, The Neurons jerry-rigged a Rihanna song with new lyrics: “We found sunshine in the backyard, we found sunshine in the ba-ackyard.” This was a butchering of “We Found Love” from 2011. Calvin Harris wrote it and Rihanna had a hit with it. After using it for their purposes, The Neurons introduced the proper tune to my morning mental music stream (Trademark hopeless) for the full experience. It’s a technotune with a driving beat that soon had The Neurons jumping and bouncing, a bit disconcerting as my body’s other cells were clamoring, “Where’s the coffee, huh? Give me coffee.”

Stay positive, be strong, and vote blue. Don’t know what history will say after this election but I’d like to give our nation a longer tenure as a democratic republic. Electing Harris will bend us toward that course. Selecting Trump will divert us further off course, as we saw from his first term and his behavior since.

The body finally had its coffee prayers answered. Here’s the music. Cheers

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