Floofnoulli’s Principle(floofinition) – A principle of floof culture which states that the increase in a human’s stealthiness when they’re preparing, getting, or consuming food directly relates to its tastiness or desirability, and a floof must therefore use more energy to try to get their share of the food as quickly as possible.
In use: “Although apparently asleep, Daisy heard the subtle kitchen sounds. Instantly recalling Floofnoulli’s Principle, she leaped from sleeping position to dead run, sliding to a stop in the kitchen in front of Lisa, who was just about to eat a potato chip.”
Here we are again on the little backwater establishment known as Earth. Look at the humans; aren’t they cute. Look at that old one, sipping coffee. Just adorable. He looks so sleepy.
It’s 6/16/2023. Friday. Cushioned with a light cool breeze, 64 degrees F and hopping up, Ashlandia is living a dreamy Friday morning. Blue sky and sunshine rule. Gonna get warm. 88 F, they say. I say 90.
Now, a correction. Not that anyone uses this blog for reminders but I thought last Sunday, June 11, was Father’s Day. That’s because my wife said it was. She was pointing at a sign in a store when she said it. It just locked into me. I hustled a card out to Dad but didn’t call him. Put it off because we’d just spoken a few days before. Neither of us are big pholks (phone folks).
Then I began noticing all these Father Day ads springing up and checked the calendar on my wall. Correction realized.
Injured my back yesterday while running. Only went a little less than a mile. Probably closer to a little less than half a mile. Didn’t feel anything snap, crackle, or pop, but when I finished, my back said, “Why did you do that?” It then stiffened like a flag in a strong breeze. The spouse unit, who regularly goes through aches and pains associated with her chronic malaise, provided me with a Salon Pas pad, which heated the back up very impressively, alleviating the pain and stiffness. After wearing it for six hours, I removed it per instructions and then applied CBD TherapyReLeaf to the area. Feel much better this morning, thanks. While the back’s pain surprised, I’m relieved I bounced back, knock wood.
A dream inspired The Neurons to plug a 1982 song by The Kinks, “Come Dancing”, into the morning mental music stream. The dream was all ’bout food prep and eating — mostly cakes and sandwiches — and then dancin’. Sort of chaotic, a little hasty, like the dream had been put together at the last minute and had a small budget. “Come Dancing”, a light song, fit the dream mood and is perfect for a relaxed Friday.
‘Bout done with my first cuppa. I’d gotten up and cleaned the kitchen. That slid things back a bit. Hadn’t been a plan to clean the kitchen. Wasn’t that dirty as my wife had tidied before leaving for her exercise class. We work well in tandems like that. Then ended up cleaning the primary litter box, a.k.a., the big ‘un.
Stay pos. Hope it’s a satisfying day in your existence. Here are The Kinks. Cheers
When I’m happy, I want to have something enjoyable to eat. Steak and pie often speak to me at that point, although I rarely eat steak, rarely eat meat, as my wife is a vegetarian. Likewise, when I’m frustrated, or depressed, I want something enjoyable to eat. Steak — or a burger — come to mind, along with pie, or ice cream. It’s only when I’m in a good mood but not overly happy, but very focused, when I’m not prey to different eating urges. And that’s a bare sliver of a window.
It interests me how my urges to eat are similar when I’m happy or sad, an intriguing additional insight into my personal spectrum of being.
After taking some meds, he learned again that if some is good, more isn’t always better. The rule of moderation was proven again. The question for everyone, with everything, was always, what constitutes moderation? Difficulty comes because it changes with age, health, and circumstances. Re-consideration and adjustments are often required.
Hello to all you deceivers and believers, along with the in-betweeners. That’s something Willie Nelson sang about.
Despite everything that happened in everyone’s lives, at least in this reality, the world has continued spinning, bringing us to Saturday, April 8, 2023. Despite those pronouncements about day and date, nature and the world outside of humanity goes about its business. Date and day and time doesn’t matter to it. We’re the believers, deceivers, and in-betweeners worrying about it.
The sun lightened the sky at 6:42 this morning. The world will spin Ashlandia into darkness at 1944, as far as we know. It’s 45 F now but 66 is possible, the weather goobers tell us. Mind the rain, it’ll be in and out all day, dismaying the cats, who were counting on sunshine.
Today’s song comes from getting out of bed. As the light in the room grew louder, I said to myself, get up, get up. That shifted to rise up, but memory of a dream was preoccupying my energy. Toward the end of that contemplation, The Neurons slipped “Run” by Snow Patrol out of 2004 into the morning mental music stream. “Light up, light up, as if you have a choice.” That brought a chuckle up. Staying in bed isn’t an option. Words to write and books to read were waiting, along with coffee and feed.
Then there are the cats, talking about me as if I was dead, conversing with one another, “Is he alive?”
“I don’t know. I’m gonna put a claw to his cheek and see what he does. Oh, yes, he’s alive.”
I guess I owe getting up to the cats. Well, they’ve been fed and released to the backyard where the hunt for sun entertains them.’re Stay pos. Coffee is ready so I’m gonna rise up and get a cup. There’s also vegan blueberry scones. Home made by my SO, who remains on a baking kick. I’m the beneficiary. Care for one? They go well with coffee. If you’re not a scone’r , she also made vegan chocolate chip muffins, which also go well with coffee. Plenty here and I assure you, they’re terrific.
Not just any pie. Apparently Costco offered a pie which weighed almost five pounds. What? Peanut butter and chocolate, it sold out fast.
Friends had gone to an early doctor’s appointment. After that, they made it to Costco at its opening time. One rushed back to the pies. Only four of these remained.
They called his wife. Tell Mikey — their pet name for him — to come over and get a piece of pie. He needs to try it. He’d not heard of it but his wife convinced him to go. They cut him a large piece because the thought he had a big appetite. He ate part of the piece after dinner.
Yes, chocolate. A mousse, it seemed like. But also peanut butter. Both flavors were distinct. Good crust, too, but man was that bugger sweet.
As sweet was that his friends thought of him and wanted him to have a piece.
Michael Seidel, writer 