Limitfloophe
Limitfloophe (floofinition) – Border alongside an animal. Origins: Flooench, late sixteenth century.
In use: “Quinn was a small floof with a large limitfloophe, and whenever an animal stepped into that zone, he was instantly awake and alert.”
Wenzda’s Wandering Thoughts
My brain wandered off into an unusual direction and decided to rewrite a classic rock song.
The Neurons’ target is a song by Kansas. Released in 1978, “Dust in the Wind” became known for its reflective lyrics and evocative sound. These were the lines my brain wanted to rewrite.
I close my eyes
Only for a moment and the moment’s gone
All my dreams
Pass before my eyes, a curiosity
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind (All we are is dust in the wind)
Dust in the wind (Everything is dust in the wind)
Everything is dust in the wind
My brain was suddenly singing,
I close my screen
Only for a moment but the app is gone
All my words
Are no longer there, a pain for me
Pixels on the screen
All we are is pixels on the screen (All we are is pixels on the screen)
Pixels on the screen (Everything is pixels on the screen)
Everything is pixels on the screen
Noctrol
Noctrol (floofinition) – Floofterally, ‘nocturnal patrol’, a phrase employed by animals in reference to activities done between sunset and sunrise. Origins: 1600s, early middle Floofish.
In Use: “Spunk entered the house after her humans finally answered her summons and opened the door. Excited by all she’d seen on her notrol, she chatted to them, but all they did was tell her how sweet she was and feed her.”
In Use: “During his noctrol, Austin Powers witnessed Mark leave bed and quietly go to the kitchen, open the refrigerator and get out leftover pizza. Knowing Mark was on a diet, Austin Powers quietly joined him, demonstrating again that floofgilance pays off.”
Munda’s Theme Music
Greetings from Ashlandia to all you Mundaheads. Yes, we’ve reached another Munda milestone in our mostly mundane lives. I’m speaking for myself, of course. I’m sure none of the rest of you deal with a Mundane Munda.
The weather here is mundane, sunshine with clouds, blue skies, and the sometimes drizzle. Out looking for spring last night, Papi, our ginger housefloof, was wet every time he re-entered the house following a nocturnal patrol. I never heard any rain. I assumed Papi was dashing through sprinklers. When I got up, though, I saw that, yeah, it had rained through the night. We’re still looking at a taste of the low 70s F today and an overnight low in the upper 40s. This week promises more time bouncing through rainshine.
Cleaning the garage and taking away the trash yesterday brought an expanse of free time to silently think. I used to do these sort of tasks with a boom box playing. I don’t bring out the boom box any longer. Boom boxes were so ubiquitous last century but I haven’t seen anyone using one for years, it feels like. So my work was done in silence. I didn’t mind the silence, as I practiced fiction writing in my head, a feat which always intoxicates my muses and brings them back to give me more.
The other thing from yesterday was the lack of floofervision. I used to share floofmeciles with several cats. Most were active floofervisors, there to help me open boxes and study the contents. Papi was more of the laissez floof management style. He showed up to see what I was doing and ensure nothing to eat was there but usually left with only a short comment. There was a time when the likes of Jade, Tucker, and Quinn would be stamping things with their paw of approval. Sort of missed that but at the same time, less interruptions to move animals were needed.
Politic news again had me GRRRRRRRRRRRing over my morning coffee. I read that the Roberts Court is allowing the Trump Regime to remove protections for Venezuelan refugees while it’s still being contested in court. A lower court had stopped the deportations and kept protections in place. Trump disliked them because, you know, President Joe Biden had extended those protections. Trump’s regime argued that the protections were not in the nation’s best interests and undermined national security. Therefore, the protections should be removed so the Venezuelans could be shipped out of the United States. Reading that, I thought, “Trump’s actions aren’t in the nation’s best interests and undermine national security. Can’t we depart him?” Then I sipped some coffee and smiled.
Another of my friends took the pledge. She wrote on FB: “I’m done posting shit about the clown. I’m just so sick of his garbage. Im sick of the clowns in Washington too afraid to stick up for the American people, their constituents or just filling their coffers with bribes from the orange clown and his fellow billionaires with the goals of killing off the poor, I’m just sorry for the folks who voted for him and will now have all of their programs and help cut.
“So I’m done. No more. I know what I know and see and read. And hopefully someone will have the balls to throw the garbage out”
We know who she means: PINO Trump. I feel her. He’s only interested in enriching himself and his family, as long as they are also going along with him.
Today’s music came during my work yesterday. As is often the case, The Neurons started song based on something they observed or perhaps a fragment of thought or a fleeting memory. They act on it, and music arrives in the mental music stream. In this case, it was a 1980 song by REO Speedwagon, “Keep On Loving You”. Why in the world did The Neurons snag this song while I was cleaning the garage and cars, etc? I don’t know. It remains in the morning mental music stream, though. Freeing myself of it requires me to offer it to the general public. So here it is, from my head to my computer to the internet to your computer (or other electronic device) and then into your head. Isn’t technology amazing?
Well, that’s the morning stuff. Coffee has been loaded and stored in my energy cells. Now I’m ready to get ‘er done. Pitter patter, here we go — again. Cheers
Sunda’s Theme Music
Rain took its drops and went elsewhere. Though clouds stayed, sunshine rushed in. A swirly, restless day was had. Hot in direct sun, chilly in shadow when the wind played. We did see 66 F at our house. Now it’s dropping, expecting to stoop to the 40s overnight. Tomorrow, we’ll do it again.
For the record, this is Sunda, Mai 18, 2025.
I’ve been busy all day. This was the culmination of a cleaning project. Ashlandia and Recology were taking in trash and electronics free of charge this weekend at the transfer station. This inspired my wife and I to declare we’ll do some cleanup and rid ourselves of unused and broken old items. Beginning Twosda, I pulled, cleaned, inspected, and decided on what to do with stuff which we’d accumulated and didn’t seem to be using. I consulted with my wife as necessary. Like, we have three big boxes of china. It’s a formal dinnerware setting for twelve, acquired in Germany over a period fro 1988 to 1991. We’ve probably used them a half dozen times, and not any time in the last decade. Much of it was awarded to me as prizes in monthly, quarterly, and annual competitions at a base or specific units. Mikasa was one of the sponsors and would often give gift certificates. My wife used ones I won to buy china. No, we didn’t pitch the china. We put it aside to give to a friend who will take it to a charity boutique. A few times a year they have a big sale and include things like china. Proceeds help offset people’s cost for hospice.
My wife’s health kept her sidelined during Operation Cleanup. But I enjoyed the solitary work. While I put in a couple hours every day after writing, today was the load up and drop off. The SUV was backed up and configured. Loading began at 10:15. By 11:30, I was ready for the dump trip. I hit the line at 11:45 and inched the vehicle to the gate at 12:30. They directed me to trash and electronics, which covered my contributions. By 1 PM, I was back home.
Then I cleaned clean the car and reconfigured its seating and all that, and cleaned the garage and rearranged things to be more organized and take advantage of the cleared space. I just finished that at 6 PM. I sweated a few buckets today, and my feet are singing about their unhappiness like a bunch of hounds with the blues. I’m taking advantage of this time to post before I make my dinner.
Today’s song turned out to be “On A Carousel” by the Hollies. They released it in the 1960s. It’s a song about love and the up and down ride you’re on when you’re in love. I was using it to think about Trump. We’re going around and around with him as he whines about the judicial system and courts, ignores the Constitution, threatens anyone who disagrees with him, and then acts like an idiot who mated a jackass. Guess that would be a idioass or a jackiot. Did you hear about him and his video where he’s supposed to be playing “Don’t Stop Believin'” by Journey in concert? His connections with reality frays more every hour. His supporters don’s seem much better. Guess they’re holding on to their dreams.
Time to call it. Hope you had a good one. Cheers
PINs & Passwords
PINs and passwords are integral to first world life. Friends and I discussed how we manage our passwords and PINs. All that caused me to think and smile.
There’s an article out there about ‘things our children wouldn’t know about’ because whatever it was is now obsolete. Telephone party lines, rolodexes, TV ‘rabbit ears’ and outdoor antennas, carbon copy or carbon paper, and those sort of things. I was thinking of the reverse mode, and how astonished our children might be that we had no PINs and passwords when I was growing up in the 1950s to mid-1970s. We never had to figure out and remember a magical combination of letters, numbers and ‘special characters’ to get in and out of our online accounts. Number one, we didn’t have online accounts. We lacked the Internet and home computers. Now, there’s a PIN to learn to use a bathroom. Another PIN to access my voice mail. A different PIN to use my credit card, depending on the card reader, and to withdraw money.
I wonder, though, how many years it’ll be until the next generation is amused with our tales of PINs & Passwords and our explanations for how they were used.
More Wandering Political Thoughts
Trump claimed he made up the word ‘equalizing’.
Donald Trump claims he invented ‘the best word.’ It’s been around since 1599
On Monday, the president claimed he invented a “new word” while talking about his proposal to lower drug prices by 80%.
“Basically, what we’re doing is equalizing. There’s a new word that I came up with, which is probably the best word,” he said.
“We’re gonna equalize where we’re all gonna pay the same. We’re gonna pay what Europe’s gonna pay …” he continued.
But “equalize” didn’t just enter the English vocabulary on Monday.
According to Webster’s dictionary, “equalize” was first used in 1599.
That’s the level of ignorance we’re dealing with in Trump. Which really, really, really makes me wonder about his MAGA supporters. I do not question why the GOP supports him, or Project 2025, or oligarchs and billionaires. He (and his MAGAs) are very useful idiots for them.
Tell you what. I’ve just made up three new words*: ignorant, bloviating, idiot. I think they’re going to get a lot of use, especially when people think, speak, write, or remember Donald J. Trump.
*Yes, I know I didn’t make up those words. Who do you take me for? Donald J. Trump?
Thirstda’s Wandering Political Thoughts
Current political events and trends in the United States got you down? Are you, like me, frustrated and angry about what’s happening to the United States under the Trump Regime? Are you appalled by how PINO Trump and his minions are trampling the Constitution and the balance of power? Maybe you’re ready for VoodooByMoodoo.
The chances that standard law and order, court rulings, or Congress will address Trump’s lawless ways seem to be dimming. Maybe Voodoo is the answer. At the least, it might provide some stress release as you stick a pin in a little orange doll. Maybe, with luck, you’ll nail his brain or heart. I wouldn’t bet on either; both are incredibly tiny. They said evidence of either were not found during his last physical. The physician pretended
VoodooByMoodoo. When nothing else seems to work. After all, we’re dealing with a lot of zombies out there.
They call themselves MAGA.
Borrowed from Teri Seitz @teri-teri-boberry.bsky.social.
Michael Seidel, writer 