We made Christmas crock pot candy today. I’m employing the marital we. I put Christmas confection on them and found containers to house them until they’re bagged up. My wife did the actual work. She blames me in part for them. She said, “I have to make something to exchange with Lori. She’s going to make that biscotti that you like and bring it over. I need something to give to her.”
Yes, I have a bad habit of effusively thanking people for whatever baked goods they share with me. Folks take that to heart. Thereafter, I’m delivered biscotti, banana-nut bread, zuchinni loaves, peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, grape pie, fudge, and brownies. I know, it’s an American tragedy.
We’re also going to a Swedish smorgasboard, so something was needed as a hostess gift. My wife decided the Christmas crock pot candy would work because we gave them out before, and the husband and wife told my wife how much they liked it.
It’s another Friday. This one is December 13, 2024, which triggers some, especially if they’re Knights Templars. But I’m not one and I’m not bothered by the date. Except, there’s less than two weeks until Christmas, if that’s your celebrating avenue. More importantly, the end is near — the end of the year, that is.
Today’s white blob of a sky blends in over the mountain and tree tops, fuzzying our edges and spitting on the eastern windows. Temperature is 42 F and as with yesterday, we’re just four degrees of separation from our high. Unlike yesterday, which morphed into a pleasant autumn day with wintry overtones, a brisk wind is moaning the blues, prompting a high-wind advisory.
Papi the ginger blade despairs of this wind. He beat at the door as soon as it rose. Fattened by brekkie and at least floofmentarily aware of the wind, he’s stretched out in the living room, a pretty orange and white furry binkie.
Several politically-connected matters caught my eye. One, Andy Borowitz put his humorous spin on Hegseth as Drumpf’s nominee to head Defense: “Hegseth Offers to Connect Breathalyzer to Nuclear Arsenal”. Feels hysterically funny because there’s too much truth in it. The second item was one pointed out by on Scottie’s Playground: Study: Republicans Respond to Political Polarization by Spreading Misinformation, Democrats Don’t. Some of us reacted, yes, and water tends to be wet. To see it hardwired as actual study results is satisfying because it underscores our observations that the modern American right wing can’t handle the truth and make shit up.
Finally, also out of Scottie’s Playground, is a tale of Not Good News in Florida.“Earlier this fall, Florida officials ordered transgender women in the state’s prisons to submit to breast exams. As part of a new policy for people with gender dysphoria, prison medical staff ranked the women’s breast size using a scale designed for adolescents. Those whose breasts were deemed big enough were allowed to keep their bras. Everyone else had to surrender theirs, along with anything else considered “female,” such as women’s underwear and toiletry items.”
Yes, we know that besides making shit up when they feel threatened, American Republicans tend to become crueler and treat others who aren’t like them with greater contempt and inhumanity. They’re such a misguided, fact-aversion, hate-filled, group of lying fantasists. If we had greater involvement and better critical thinking from more voting-age Americans, we wouldn’t be in this mess. But a large swath of indifference and lethargy has given power to fools, and all of us will suffer.
I have a weird song in the morning mental music stream (Trademark dated). “I’m Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter” originally came out in 1935, twenty-one years before my birth. It’s literally been around all my life and then some. The Neurons inserted it into the mmms after a dream in which I wrote myself a letter and then mailed it. A busy dream night, all I remember of that dream is that I as a young teen wrote myself a letter and posted it on a sunny day. Then this song begun. It’s been covered by two and a half gazillion performers. I have females and males singing it in the mmms because this was one of those songs Mom often played on her stereo hi-fi, and she sang along to it. I just surfed the net for a version which I like. Hope you know the song and like it. So here’s the late Jeff Healey with his cover. Jeff Healey and his band were in the movie Road House staring Patrick Swayze, Sam Elliott, Kelly Lynch, and Ben Gazzara in 1989.
Rain is spitting on the western windows now, and the wind’s mutterings have turned louder, angrier, and more prolonged. Coffee and I have made our daily agreement. Here’s the music. Cheers
Flooftwirl(floofinition) – Animal behavior that consists of it turning in one direction several times in a display of anticipatory pleasure. Origins: 2024, Internet, predominantly United States.
In Use: “As Judy drew a can of food out of the cupboard to feed Butch, Butch exercised three perfect flooftwirls.”
In Use: “When Gavin entered the house, Marvin the Mischiefizer ran over and did several excited flooftwirls before finishing the dash to her favorite guy.”
In Use: “Watching Mama Pearl do flooftwirls when the feeding person entered the room, the kittens were soon practicing their own flooftwirls at feeding time.”
Went grocery shopping yesterday. A light shop, a stop-gap function done because we were in Medford for a medical appointment, so let’s shop since we’re here. Combining tasks is the ‘Merican way.
Watching folks with their shopping carts in stores, I thought, we really need to codify some basic shopping cart etiquette. I mean, most of spend an impressive chunk of existence in the U.S. in stores, guiding a shopping cart. Some rules and expectations could be helpful. Like, “Do not block the aisle with your cart and body. Be mindful of other shoppers.” Yes, that’s a toughie for some: mobility issues, size of the aisle, and size of the individual all contribute to the difficulty levels. But at least make an effort, won’t you?
While we’re at it, could you pay attention when you’re wheeling your cart down an aisle? Nothing like being forced to stop and watch as some yo-yo pushes their cart blindl forward while looking behind them. I was going to say to treat your cart like you’re driving a car but numerous lobotomized drivers seem to be steering motorized vehicles these day.
BTW, we’re all tired and impatient. You shoving your cart around, cutting others off, doesn’t help the sit. But we witness the same thing in road rage incidents, don’t we, as people impatiently cut corners and run red lights and stop signs.
Anway, to socialize these new shopping cart norms, we can involve shopping carts and celebrities. Imagine synchronized shopping cart activities in Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, and other holiday parades. Shopping cart manuveuring and rules can be taught in elementary school. Remedial courses can be offered in high school and college. Perhaps there will be Olympic shopping cart events. Maybe we can change the hundred meter dash. Adding carts and staging it in grocery stores would make events like that more relatable to norms like me. We’d call it “The Shopping Cart Dash”. Makes more sense than high hurdles. How many times do you really do hurdles in real life?
Rev up your imaginaiton to the possibilities. James Croden could go shopping with celebrities. We can have a public service campaigns featuring Travis Kelce and Taylor Swift and other stars pushing shopping carts in stores while complying with the new etiquette. Which sports superstar, Hollywood uber star, or pop megastar would you like to see pushing a shopping cart to inspire you? With examples like Joey Logana, Selena Gomez, Jelly Roll, Tina Fey, Ellen, Aaron Judge, and Patrick Mahomes leading the way, we could become a nation known as polite and civilized shopping carters.
I mean, what else do we have going for us at this point?
All systems indicate with uniform agreement, this is Thursday, December 12, 2024, as expected.
What to expect from the weather is something else. The winds have abated. Rain heralded the morning hours. But the off-white canvas that stretched overhead from valley end to end at dawn is shredding and tearing. Blue sky and sunshine are poking through. As the cloud cover shreds, the curls turn dark and mean looking. A few coalesce into hulking, brooding bodies…but they sail on, leaving my field of vision.
It’s 41 F out, just four small degrees of separation from the projected high. It will be some variation of a late fall, early winter day. Details are still collecting.
Just saw a headline announcing that Meta — Facebook’s overlord — donated $1,000,000 to Trump’s inauguration fund. They didn’t contribute to President Biden nor Trump’s first inauguration campaign. This confirms the slide I’ve witnessed in my perspective of their ‘community standards’ enforcement. There’s a nasty authoritarian, fascist stench coming from that site. It’s also getting more sucky in its content, with ads and clickbait becoming its overwhelming offerings.
Saw my surgeon in a post-op follow up regarding my ankle surgery yesterday. He lifted movement and activity restrictions off me. Yes, some swelling is still evident, and yeah, edema swelling has caused some complication, but the general trend is going up. I’ll take that.
Heavy mental fog surrounds the morning mental music stream’s current occupant. “The Man Who Sold the World” is a David Bowie composition. Came out in 1970. The song resides on several Bowie albums in my music collection. The cover in my head was done by Kurt Cobain and Nirvana, and was released in 1995. In both, the enigmatic words are influenced by Bowie and Cobain’s vocal deliveries. Always gives me pause to consider what’s being said and fuels a search for meaning. Can’t say I always achieve that. As to why it’s in today’s mmms (Trademark sold), it might be just a general response running through my mind that so much of the world is simply selling out, so the Neurons countered with music about not selling out.
Side thought that comes with writing about Cobain and Bowie that it’s dissatisfying that both passed away. But the duality of life remains: they had great gifts and shared them with us. Of course, the full stop finish to the reflection is, this is life. We live and die. The difference is made in the gap between the beginning and end.
Let’s get positive and move through this winter of disappointment and on to a brighter spring. Coffee has planted its energy seeds in me. Time to move it, move it, move it. Here’s the music. Cheers
Flooflective(floofinition) An animal’s ability to exclude and filter information so they only hear what they desire to hear. Origins: England, 1888.
In Use: “Rocky’s flooflective hearing allowed him to sleep through blaring television shows and people talking, but as soon as a bag was opened in the kitchen, Rocky heard it and was in there floof de suite.”
In Use: “Skipper had remarkably flooflective hearing, easily discerning the words, treat, walk, and ball, while remaining completely obfloofvious to stay, sit, down, and stop.”
Floofralism(floofinition) – 1. Theory that two or more animals coming together shape reality. Origins: 1872, United States,
In Use: “Once Marsha and Geoff added three rescue animals — one dog and a feline brother and sister pair — a positive floofralism imbued the household, with everything becoming more relaxed and the two humans feeling happier.”
2. Flooflitical floofosphy that animals of different background, habits, and behavior, can peacefully co-exist and even thrive in the same household. Origins: 1787, Sheba and Champion (pets in James Madison’s household), United States (A Floofizen’s Guide to Flooflitics).
In Use: “Jeff’s two dogs were dubious when Jeff married Lori and she brought two cats, two birds, an aquarium full of fish, and another dog, but Lori’s elderly cat, McCavity, explained floofralism to the dogs, and adjustments were made.”
Michael Seidel, writer 