Racfloofteur(floofinition) – Someone skilled in telling animal stories. Origins: Late1800s, American Great Plains states and territories.
In Use: “Gathering in the break room, Mike was the office racfloofteur with his tales about his cats’ battles with him and each other.”
Recent Use: “Though normally reserved, Mai had three dobies became a racfloofteur whenever anyone asked her about her floof friends, weaving engaging stories about the animals’ intelligence, curiosity, and the things they did.”
It’s December 8, 2023, Friday. 37 F outside in Ashlandia, where the women are lovely and the men don’t brood, up from 29 F. We were encased in a gothic novel cover a few hours ago; fog, mist, and diminished gray light set a brooding stage of mysterious shadows and stifled sounds. We brought on the fireplace to help the furnace with the day’s early cold moisture, and it was cozyrama.
Our valley’s high will be 46 F. Snow flurries are in today’s weather blend.
Sis is going home from her operation and all was a success. That encouraged The Neurons to light up the morning mental music stream (Trademark bamboozled) with Ten Years After at Woodstock with “Going Home”. It’s a powerful old-time rocker for an early Friday morning before I’d had coffee and my mind segued to their song, “I’d Love to Change the World”. When I used it back in 2019, I wrote,
Ten Years After released “I’d Love to Change the World” in 1971 as a response to the violence, protests, emerging counter-culture, resistant establishment, and war. Gosh, does any of that have any echos in today’s world? Naw, probably just me.
Like most of TYA’s offerings, the song features some powerful Alvin Lee guitar work, which is always good to hear. Beyond the rock essence of guitar and dream, these lyrics, and how they’re presented in the song, plaintive, accepting, and reflective, spoke to me as a fifteen-year-old when the song came out, but still talks to me as a sixty-three-year-old.
I’d love to change the world
But I don’t know what to do.
So I’ll leave it up to you.
I’ll leave that up there, adding that the other line resonating with me is, “Tax the rich, feed the poor, till there are no rich no more.” Guess I’m getting more revolutionary as I age.
Stay positive, fight injustice, remain strong, help others, and lean forward. Give me more coffee and then I’ll do the same. Here’s the video. Gotta go; cat wants in. Rock on.
Rain showers the street and sidewalks outside the coffee shop windows. Between the clouds and rain, gray smothers the day like swaths of gray flannel.
The coffee shop is cold. It’s always cold when the sun ain’t cracking through to brighten and warm us. Despite wearing a fleece jacket, I’m shivering, and my hands are cold. My wife, who suffers Renaud’s disease, would be in misery.
And I had to pee again. I finally decided to seek the answer about why I pee more often when I’m cold and did a search.
“Cold-induced diuresis,” thenakedscientists.com on the net informed me, basically an increase in urine due to more blood being filtered due to vasoconstriction to conserve heat, more or less.
At least I know the reason now. At least my laptop’s keyboard warms my fingertips a little. How we artists must suffer.
Floofogony(floofinition) – 1. An account of floofs’ origins on Earth. Origins: Poem of 1022 lines by Floofsiod, written about 1026 BCE.
In Use: “Few humans have been granted access to the Floofogony, a document which is precious to animals and kept in the Fortress of Floofitude in an undisclosed place which is said to exist in an area of Earth inaccessible to humans.”
Recent Use: “Although many societies offer greater recognition that animals are not dumb and do have feelings and are capable of more intelligence than previously credited, the idea of a document such as the Floofogony is usually roundly mocked.”
2. Anguish of any sort felt about the loss of an animal or an animal’s situation. Origins: middle-english, first known use in fourteenth century.
In Use: “When their dog raced out of the yard after his bath, immediate floofogony was felt by all the family members even as they scrambled to put on their shoes, get in the car and find her.”
Recent Use: “With the Internet showing more about animals across the spectrum helping one another or asking humans for help, more people experience floofogony as they read stories or watch videos about animals being dumped, abused, or in need of medical intervention after accidents.
Here we go. Thursday ends in a y, so it must be time for me to rant.
Subject: Are more people running red lights?
It seemed like that was rare for me to witness anywhere outside of Japan, which was over thirty years ago. I’d see one sometimes in the Bay area, especially in San Jose.
Now, here in little Ashland, I typically witness two cars or more a day running red lights. I rarely if ever saw them before the COVID era began. Now they’re increasing. While some are people turning left across traffic and waiting for an opening that doesn’t come until the light changes, the huge percentage are going straight, speeding up to hurtle through an intersection before the light goes red.
They often don’t make it. People get the green light and begin to go and then, here comes the red light runner, forcing everyone with the green light and right of way to slam on their brakes. I often witness very close calls between vehicles, or the speeding vehicle and cyclists or passengers.
It reminds me of the one crash I saw when someone ran the redlight.
This was around 1997. We were living in Mountain View, California, and had decided to go to the Mall of America in Milpitas. Stopped at a traffic light, I realized I needed to be in the lane to the right. Only one car inhabited it, so I thought I’d delay until they went and then shift over.
The light changed. The car in the next lane started off. I followed.
Suddenly, here comes a Cadillac sedan. Running the light from my left, they slammed into the driver’s side of the first car.
That could’ve easily been me.
We went right, around the block, coming back to check on the cars. Took a few minutes and by the time we arrived, the cops were there and the people from the crash were in a parking lot. But my wife and I stopped anyway, to share what we witnessed, and to check on the people.
As we approached, we heard the young female driver whose car was hit say with heavy sobbing, “I thought the light had changed.” On the parking lot’s other side, an old man paced while an elderly woman fumed beside him, arms crossed, lips tight.
I immediately said to the young driver, “It had changed. I was there. It was green when you went.”
The cops looked at me and asked who I was. I explained it all. My wife and I verified, the light was absolutely green when the woman went forward.
I heard the fuming woman say, “You’re always doing this. I knew this was going to happen.” As I looked her way, she finished to the old man, “You’re lucky you haven’t killed someone yet, but you will, if you don’t change.”
Watching these people taking greater and greater risk, I often now think the same thing which that woman said that day.
Greetings to all Earthbound beings. It’s Tuesday, October 10, 2023 — 10/10 — in Ashlandia, where the rain is welcomed and the temperature is chilly. Autumn has swiped brushes over the window’s vistas. Overnight, plums and burgundies have been delivered to compete with green, amber, lemon, and red. Quite a splash for the eyes.
Rain plays metal notes on the roof’s vents. It’s 53 F now and will advance ten degrees up the thermometer before the sun’s retreat.
With this ambience underway, I’ve not checked the news. I’m saving myself for a few minutes more to just ensure my safe little bubble of existence.
I’m eager to continue writing. On the other hand, chords loaded with guilt on sometimes struck. I feel I should be doing more about the house. Part of this is that my wife has a busy week: Food & Friends deliveries yesterday, exercise classes every other morning, and book club Wednesday night, in which she’s the moderator. She takes moderating very seriously.
Besides those pretty standard things, Empty Bowls is on Friday. This is a fundraising effort to fund the city’s charities to help fed, cloth, and shelter the less fortunate and homeless. Local artists and art classes provide bowls. You basically buy a bowl for $25 and fill it with soup. Local restaurants and politicians provide the soups, along with breads.
An annual event, my wife has been preparing the table centerpieces for a decade. The pursuit has become more involved; Peace House, the hosting organization, has less and less resources for the centerpieces. That moves the burden to my wife’s shoulders, so she’s been scrounging for flowers and vases. The ‘vases’ are pint bottling jars. Thanks to one of my friends, we managed to procure enough of those.
All that puts her on edge. But in addition, the Empty Bowls commit also asked her to make some vegan cookies for the event.
Well, my wife isn’t one to refuse such a request. Agreeing added anxiety, though. She went through recipes and made a decision about what to make. We bought the supplies last Friday. The baking will be done Thursday. I wish I could do more to help her, and that’s why I feel guilty for going off and writing.
The cloud-heavy sky has me thinking about the upcoming ring of fire eclipse. Due on Saturday, we’re right on the path’s edge as the eclipse traverses North America but wonder whether the weather will clear enough for us to enjoy a view. Stores and businesses have been selling eclipse glasses for several weeks, but Scienceworks gives them out free. We’ll get them free and then give them a donation, LOL.
I was listening to Papi singing this morning. Papi is my ginger gentlefloof, a slender blade of a feline who exhibits a standoffish air. I’m the only one permitted to properly visit with him, although my wife is making progress with him. He’s skittish and wary to the extreme, a complete 180 from Tucker (our black and white long-haired fellow), who deeply enjoys human company. Papi avoids people and animals.
So, growing cold weather induced me to close the pet door. Papi loves the night and enjoy popping in and out. Coming in to eat kibble, going back out to witness the world. The pet door’s closure forces him to convince me to let him out. He knows I don’t like breaking out of sleep and slipping out of bed to do this, so he now sings the “I Want Out” blues.
The song starts soft and slow, just one gentle note every other minute. Gently the notes build in volume and then begin to come more frequently. Finally, a wail invested with the power of all unfairly imprisoned entities breaks the dark. I usually get up and do as bid with the first few notes. I thought that I’d let Papi sing a while before letting him out, as he has such a beautiful voice.
Naturally, rain and Papi’s blues inspired Les Neurons to conjure blues about rain in my morning mental music stream (Trademark possible). Well, first there was Tina Turner singing about rain on the windows. Then John Fogerty broke in to ask me if I’ve ever seen the rain.
Slipping into the blues, Stevie Ray Vaughn apprised of flooding in Texas. Finally, though, we had Buddy Guy singing “Feels Like Rain”. Buddy’s song struck the right balance of feeling and being so it won honors as today’s theme music. It’s a song I’ve used before as my theme music, basically for the same reasons.
Stay pos, be strong, and keep chill. Coffee has landed; here’s the music. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 