Saturday’s Bumper Sticker
Easy
“Do I have a flat head?” he asked.
The question was from the proverbial blue left field. It certainly had naught to do with what was going on (which was going to the store) (for groceries) (snacks, if they were honest) (he was driving), or what they’d been talking about (movies) (Parasite and Uncut Gems).
“No,” she said. “You have a perfect head. It’s a perfect shape and size. I’ve always admired the shape of your head.”
He nodded, then said something about worrying about it, which was why he was combing his hair differently (she hadn’t noticed). She half-listened, instead thinking how easy it’d been for her to lie.
But that’s what was learned, during forty years of keeping a marriage alive.
Independent Cat
He’s an independent cat
of independent means
brewing independent schemes
chasing independent dreams
He’s an independent cat
runnin’ after this and that
look at that body, not an ounce of fat
not accepting anyone’s flak
He’s an independent cat
checking out the sun
doing anything for fun
always starting, never done
Cups
once they offered warmth and vitality
but now they’re empty
and sit alone,
waiting again for another
to cup them
Oh
oh, you pain me
and you give me joy
and, oh, you make me so happy that I can’t believe my luck
oh, you make me so angry that I could spit nails
and oh so sad that I cry hot tears in the car
and have secret conversations with you in my head
(that’s what makes them secret)
oh, your beauty and intelligence amazes me
and your kindness and sweetness inspires me
and no one could ever have a better friend
but oh, your obstinance and rigidity frustrates me
and oh, how your complaints wear me out
and your drinking and habits enervate me
which shows the truth:
love can’t be spelled without oh
“The Ink Floofs”
“The Ink Floofs” (floofinition) – Popular floof vocal group of the mid-twentieth century whose stylings presaged the rhythm and floof (R&F) movement.
In use: “A sentimental favorite by The Ink Floofs, “We Three” tells of the relationship between a pet, their person, and their food. Shared from the pet’s point of view, it describes how lonely they’d be without their human and their food, giving equal love to the person and food.”
The Cat and Her
She thought, by the way he was behaving, that the tabby wanted to go out via the pet door. The hard plastic cover was off, but he had issues with it. The youngest (and newest) member of their floofdom, he’d not been socialized well. He distrusted people and other animals, and stayed wary. That seemed like learned behavior, as he was otherwise so sweet, and smart.
He always had trouble with the pet door, though. Her working theory was that the other cats (old and tough rescues from the street who still argued about who ruled the house) often ambushed the tabby when he used the pet door, so he was leery of it. It fit, as theories go.
“You want to go out?” she asked him, heading for the pet door. Sitting four feet from it, he lifted his pretty green eyes from the pet door to regard her but immediately put attention back on the door. His look said, there’s someone out there. If you want to know, you look.
She scoffed. “There’s no one out there. I’ll prove it.”
Looking out, she did see another. Not recognizing them in the dim light (was it the fluffy cat from next door?) she got down on her hands and knees. Pushing the door flap up, she called to the other animal, “Here, kitty, kitty.” As it ambled toward her, she realized, skunk.
Post haste, she dropped the flap and put the hard plastic door on. Standing, hands on hips, she gazed down at her tabby. “You knew, didn’t you?” she accused him.
Yawning, he stood and stretched. Entertainment over, he turned, put his tail up, and dashed down the hall.
Writing Math
State the problem
divide the tale
multiply the problems
carry the voice
subtract the boring
and reduce the remainder
Puzzle the Fourth
We started building a new jigsaw puzzle on SuperMonday, so we’ve been working on it for several superdays.
This one is used (always a worry, because what if pieces are missing?), purchased from the town Goodwill for $1.49. Depicting a village green with a growers’ market and shoppers in front of a row of shops, it offers a variety of color.
A big ‘un for us, fifteen hundred pieces, over three feet long by almost two feet, the puzzle sprawls across the dining room table. Some many pieces must be appraised and sorted that we’ve added containers. Detainees for specific sections — “Oh, wait, that’s part of the flower cart” — “This belongs to the watermelon guy” — are set aside until we can get to a point where they can be added.
We’ve worked out several categories of pieces during our process.
- Edge Pieces. The edges are important for us. We like working from the outside in. None of those edgeless puzzles for us, thanks.
- “Eureka!” Pieces. Also known as “Found” pieces (“Hey, I found it!”). these are pieces for which a hard search has been going on. Usually we search, then search again, and again. We typically grouse, “We’re missing a piece. I’ve been through all of these pieces and I can’t find it.” Hence, it must be missing.
- “I know this…” Pieces. The color is sufficiently unique that you recognize where it’ll belong, but you can’t put it there yet.
- “WTH”, or “WTF” Pieces. Bizarre colors that mystify you as you stare at them (“Do I have my glasses on?”) (“Yes, it’s better with my glasses off,”) these pieces drive you to pick up the picture and stare with furrowed brow until your eyes sweat and your butt falls asleep.
As this is an ‘interlocking ;uzzle’, no weird shapes exist. That’s good. We’d developed a vocabulary for pieces during past efforts (“I’m looking for an angel with black blob feet.”), but my partner prefers straightforward shapes. Unusual shapes annoy her.
Jigfloofs have been diligently employing a paws on approach, often walking among the pieces and on the puzzle in progress to give us their help. While their help is welcomed, of course, we generally remove them from the actual work space with gentle words (“Damn it, get off, I can’t see, stupid cat!”) to the chairs, where they curl up and sleep until a need for them arises again.
The puzzle is coming along. I estimate it to be sixteen point three percent completed (accurate, ain’t I?). We should finish it in time for next year. Meanwhile, optimists to the bone, we’ve been searching local stores and the net for our next project.
Someday, we’ll get a life.
Michael Seidel, writer 