Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Winmace (floofinition) – Expression of distaste or disgust displayed by animals when encountering wind.
In Use: “Dodger was never a wind fan, and the big lab would always winmace and bound back into the house whenever breezes began shaking the tree branches.”
In Use: “Winmacing, little Mae moved backward into the house when the wind hit her face.”
Kama Flooftra (floofinition) Ancient book composed by animals displaying positions used to scratch, pet cats, and sleep. Many animals study the kama flooftra in pursuit of living better. Origins: First noted in Mesopatamia in 600 BCE.
In Use: “Dixie was forever surprising her people with the positions they found her but they were unaware that she was a fervent fan of the Kama Flooftra, being totally unaware the book even existed!”
Floofness (floofinition) – 1. The quality of being the epitomy of whatever species of animal is being represented. Origins: mid-17th century in France.
In Use: “Despite being a young female cat, Philo developed the floofness of a large dog, say a Pyrenean Mountain Dog, boldly confronting and chasing off any animal not part of the official household, unless it was another cat; other cats were welcomed and accepted as long as they behaved.”
2. Used as a title or address for an exalted animal or an animal held in high esteem. Origins: 12th century, France.
In Use: “Bella, the neighbor’s little Corgi, was always referred to as ‘Her Royal Floofness’ and carried herself as worthy of the title.”
Floofucable (floofinition) – Open to, fit for, or able to share space, expecially homes, with one of more animals. Origins: 1834, United States
In Use: “For Brad and Ken, one of the best reasons for buying a home meant that they could share their space with dogs, cats, birds, and other creatures, without worrying about apartment management.”
In Use: “Many times, animals must look at people and assess if they’re floofucable before agreeing to joining the people’s household, because being wrong can mean a world of hurt.”
In Use: “When his daughter asked her father for a puppy, he wrestled with how floofucable she was as a five-year-old still coping with her mother’s death.”
Mood: smooottthhh
Sprummer still thrives in Ashlandia in southern Oregon. Clouds have departed again, leaving our June 12, 2024, coated with blue. Temperatures sitting a 65 F, they’re getting ready to stand and take us into the low to mid 80s. Windows are open and a winterish zephyr is snaking through our Wednesday, depositing chill pockets. It’s fresh, invigorating, and pleasant.
I’m hanging about the house with a bum ankle. RICE is the recipe – rest, ice, compress, and elevate — so I’m nixing my coffee shop routine. Writing at home as much as possible around interruptions. No beer with friends tonight, either.
I enjoy music and read several posts each day where they incorporate music. ‘Classic rock’ tops my list but I enjoy other sounds beyond that. I’m always surprised by how often people will say that a song isn’t to their liking.
Then I get reflective about what I mean about that. Many songs exist that I enjoyed at one point which know doesn’t work for me. Part of that I suppose is because my tastes have changed, or it could be that at some point I was overexposed to the song and became sick of it. “My Sharona” is one of these songs which now make me change the station. Several other syrupy songs are on my perpetual do-not-play-change-channel-list, like “Sugar Sugar.” Woof. But the whole process led me down a road where I wondered, am I just not discriminating about music?
Today’s song was called up by The Neurons because I was waiting for several phone calls. I’d earlier decided to slow down and take it easy, encouraging The Neurons to plug up the morning mental music stream (Trademark lazing) with everything from Frank Sinatra (“Nice & Easy Does It”) to The Eagles (“Taking It Easy”), Foreigner (“Walking Slow”), and “Slow Ride” (Foghat). But then, checking the time and wondering about the calls had The Neurons bring Blondie and “Call Me” from 1982 storming in. So that’s le music du jour.
Looking for a video to share, I found Deborah Harry performing with an orchestra at something called “Night of the Proms” (Rotterdam, Netherlands, 1997). It was fun and energetic performance. Hope you find it as fascinating as moi.
Meanwhile, looking up “Night of the Proms”, I discovered holy smoke, this is a pretty big, serious dealio in Europe. It even happens here in the U.S. Color me embarassed by my ignorance. After that, I watched a half dozen more “Night of the Proms” videos.
Stay positive and test negative (COVID is rising again) and Vote Bleu in 2024. Coffee has been swallowed, calls have been received. Time to make like a banana and slip away. Here’s the music. Cheers
Mood: ouchy
Sprummer continues its Ashlandia rule, with signs of summer leaking in. Already 72 F and intensely sunny, clouds have shifted in, and our high will crest at 87 F. Meanwhile, cooler temps are petering in, according to forecasts, with highs dropping into the upper seventies.
I injured my right ankle again last night. Just stepped up onto the door’s threshold and that thing went snap crack and I was down and in pain. A night of RICE helped and I can hobble today but I need to follow up with ortho and pursue the answer to the question, what the heck?
The cats’ responses to my injury and condition was amusing and interesting. When I sang my song of pain and flopped down, Papi reacted, “Run away!” Tucker came over and rubbed his head against mine and purred.
Later, when my wife had set me up with my RICE package, Papi wanted out. Now, he normally pays little attention to my wife. This time, he came in, walked past me, and appealed to her to let him out.
Meanwhile, Tucker was yelling for food in the night’s depths. This was despite his bowl full of kibble. I shouted back that I was in pain and couldn’t help him so please have some empathy and shut the fuck up. Well, he was immediately quiet, and then came to me on the bed, settled himself against me and purred.
I owe Marjorie Taylor Greene for today’s music in the morning mental music stream (Trademark drifing). In an interview with convicted liar Paul Bannon (cough, cough) about Greene’s stand on defunding NATO, MTG accused Rachel Maddow of being the fringe. She of the wildfire-causing space lasers said, “It’s not fringe at all. It’s also not fringe because most Americans also agree that the United States should not be funding a war in Ukraine.”
“So when we’re going to talk about the question, we’re going to ask the question, who is fringe?” she added. “It’s actually Rachel Maddow is the fringe person in this story. It’s not me. It’s Rachel Maddow.”
Guess that makes me fringe, as I support NATO. See, I remember why NATO was created in WWII’s aftermath. And I support Ukraine in the face of Russia’s wars and attempts to forcibly rebuild the USSR.
Anyway, as I laughed at MTG, The Neurons pulled up Bob Dylan’s song, “It Ain’t Me Babe”. There are several versons but I went with Dylan’s original. I just like its simplicity.
Stay positive, remain strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Here’s the music. See you on the other side of midnight. Cheers
Complefloofrianism (floofinition) – Floofological view that animals have equal but different roles from humans in life. Origins: First used by The International Order of Floofs (TIOF) in 1988.
In Use: “As practitioners of complefloofrianism, Beth’s pets ignored her orders as they’d gotten together and elected one of their own, Beanie, as the house’s ruler, and limited Beth’s roles to cleaning and feeding duties.”
Flooeismic (floofinition) – Activities or events involving animals which have a widespread or significant impact. Origins: 1858, Greece
In Use: “When Coltrane and Etta finally made peace and slept together, it had a flooeismic impact on the household dynamics.”
In Use: “OR-7‘s journey as a gray wolf trekking through Oregon and into California had a flooeismic impact on popular culture at the time.”
Michael Seidel, writer 