Floof Generis (floofinition) – One of a kind sort of animal, which can be decided by personality, appearance, or actions. Origin: early 1900s, middle Floofinus influences.
In Use: “Camilla was a floof generis, understanding her human’s needs before a word was said, silently rushing off to bring Colleen her cell phone before it rang, opening the refrigerator to bring back a beer, fetching newspapers and books, and of course, slippers and blankets.”
In Use: “The relationship between the child, crow, cat, and dog was so floof generis that videos of it stormed through social media.”
I think one thing that can help foster strong long-term relationships is understanding the others’ food preferences and habits, and ensuring they’re taken into consideration. Like, knowing she enjoys the Outshine Tangerine bars, and letting her have four instead of dividing the box equally. Or, for example, knowing that I like pie, and bringing me home a piece just to surprise me.
I was gently serenaded awake by the dulcet tones of a cat upchucking somewhere nearby. Investigating, I found it was Tucker heaving up kibble and a hairball. Fortunately, I had an exercise towel down. It was for foot and leg exercises to cope with my ankle injury, based on recommendations from my sister, a physical therapist. Tucker and Papi had staked out the green towel as the new ideal napping spot in the house. That’s where Tucker was sleeping when I went to bed. Apparently, he slept there until he awoke and puked.
That’s how my Wednesday, June 19, 2024 began. Hope yours was better. I raise my coffee cup to Juneteenth and my fellow Americans who celebrate it for all the right reasons.
Spring’s hold is weakening in Ashlandia. Sprummer has burst back onto the scene. It is a beautiful blue skied morning. Sunshine baths runners, bikers, grooming cats, and everything else under the sky. 61 F, today’s high will bounce into the low 90s. With this abrupt weather shift will come high winds.
After the puke check, I squirmed back into bed, and then tumbled with dreams and thoughts. The thoughts went down a parental aisle. Dad in the hospital. Mom was there in April. The two are divorced, with new partners. They actually divorced over fifty years ago. Dad has been with his ‘new wife’ for 35 years, his third marriage. Mom has been with her beau since 2009. Family whispers say that she’s been married seven times. Mom has a secretive gene so vetting information is a challenge.
Mom professes to constant pain. She complains frequently and often about her existence, frequently demanding her daughters’ attention, repeatedly regaling all of us with tales hospital visits, doctor appointments, and health details. Going backwards, appendicities, and before that, a perforated appendix put her in the hospital. Her pacemaker was replaced. COVID hospitalization, spinal stenosis, swollen foot (but not edema, she tells me, although she had sixteen lymph nodes removed during foot surgery), and of course, fifteen years ago, the disastrous fall down the steps. She sleeps with a mask on to help with her breathing because of emphysema. Hardly able to walk, she insists on tottering around the house to clean it, though to most eyes, it’s immaculate. She takes dozens of medications, vitamins, minerals, and supplements.
Dad tells me from his hospital bed, “I’m fine,” with a chuckle. “They have a hundred doctors helping me. They want to put me on dialysis but at my age, they worry about whether I’d survive the procedure.” He’s been stented over ten years ago. Uses a wheelchair and a cane. Has oxygen at home, which he insists that he doesn’t use. Only his wife is there to help him.
Mom always complains about her beau. He can’t hear, she says, and I’ve witnessed the truth of the 94-year-old man’s hearing issues. “He’s forgetful,” she angrily hisses. “I always have to tell him things and make him lists.”
Dad’s wife laughs about Dad and his idiosyncrasies. He never says a harsh word about her.
What a difference their worlds are.
Today’s song choice by Les Neurons is a little ditty called “Twilight Zone (When the Bullet Hits the Bone)” by Golden Earring from 1982. A song inspired by an adventure spy novel, it’s presence in my morning mental music stream (Trademark split) is all on me. See, I was feeding the cats and somehow ended up singing, “You will come to know when the kibble hits the bowl.” That’s a variation of Twilight’s chorus, “You will come to know when the bullet hits the bone.”
Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue for 2024. Coffee has stolen into my body. Here is the music video. Cheers
It’s Monday, June 17, 2024. Ashlandia is drying out from yesterday’s late afternoon rain and more precipitation decorating the night. Branches are tangoing with the wind and a blue sky as dazzling as a diamond suggests, we have a nice day lined up for you, folks. It’s 50 degrees F out with humidity floating in the eighties and a chance for the thermometer to breach the upper sixties. Spring rules again, although all is fully bloomed, waiting for our entrance. I’m a little sneezy and itchy-eyed with allergies.
The neighborhood is so quiet, you can hear a cat meow. A flying crow chastises us as he beats wings to somewhere else. Cars roll up with stoic indifference, delivering a gentle rumble from engine and tires.
No updates on Dad. They were to call when opportunity for us to chat came. So, sigh, I wait.
Meanwhile, back in Pennsylvania, Mom is stirring up issues by claiming her beau made up an invitation that included Mom to go to a party with his family. She went to the party but did not enjoy herself because, she said, they were surprised to see her. She doesn’t think she was invited; my sister suggested, “Mom, you told them you weren’t coming. Of course they’re surprised when you showed up.”
But no, the invitation didn’t include her; it was manufactured. We don’t understand why he’d do that; discussing it logically with her is a task for someone with stronger shoulders. She doesn’t hear us, and doesn’t want to hear us. I remember taking conversations with her about this same matter fifteen years ago. It’s coloring our memories of her, making her bitter, angry, and hostile in our memories. That’s the problem with aging and living longer: we begin with a vision of who we want to be, and push efforts that way, and then our mind and body twist, erasing our vision.
Dinner with friends last night was entertaining. A jigsaw puzzle was begun. Featuring odd-shaped pieces, it’s not as fun as those with uniform shapes, even though it was an interesting scene from a museum with patrons.
This morning, we deliver for Food & Friends, and then I’m going to slip on my customary writing routine, and frequent the coffee shop. Ankle is wrapped. Swelling remains a matter to address but I don’t know how much is ankle injury and how much is my recurring edema. Ice, elevate, rest, but it’s tedious and mood-altering.
Songs came together today from thoughts of summer. Specifically, the heat wave riding others in the U.S. Out of that train, The Neurons pulled in “Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth with Money in My Hand” from 1996 by Primitive Radio Gods. Starting with that B.B. King sample, it plays and repeats in the morning mental music stream (Trademark chillin’). See, it has a line in there, “Does summer come for everyone?” I think the ground for this song and its lazy, reflective tone by a song on another blog the other day, “Tom’s Diner” by Suzanna Vega. They have similiar feels to me.
Coffee is making the trip between the lips. Be positive, stay strong, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Let’s go get ’em, tiger. Here’s the music. Cheers
*Began publishing this as Sunday’s theme music. Because I thought it was Sunday. My internal calendar is untethered with my routines disrupted. My apologies.
Mood: Springflective
Spring has taken over Ashlandia on this day in June’s middle. A flotilla of menacing clouds have surmounted the mountains surrounding the valley, blocking the sun’s effects, and holding our temperature hostage in the low fifties. Saturday, June 15, 2024, will likely only face high temperatures in the upper sixties today, ending our unusually warm streak — for this time of year, of course.
Fire season has begun and there are already several on the maps to be watched to see how they grow, what direction they take, how long until they’re under control, and what happens with the smoke.
Dad went into the hospital yesterday. He’s in his early nineties so a visit there once in a while isn’t a great surprise. I mean, he grew up during the cigarette’s heyday and was a smoker, first of Lucky Strikes, and then shifting to pipes and cigars. He quit smoking thirty to forty years ago but the damage was done. He also spent 20 years in the military and was exposed to carcinogenic stuff during his tours, and survived a tour of Vietnam, too.
His current issues began with an enlarged prostrate which blocked his bladder. One kidney has apparently failed, quite some time ago, according to his wife, though Dad never mentioned this. Nor has he ever mentioned that they wanted to start him on dialysis. But the issue du jour is fluid around his heart. He’s been stented before and has had edema issues but this is a new one. So they’re going to drain away that fluid. The stay is basically observation, they said *cough cough*.
Dad, though, was recalcitrant to go into the hospital. His wife said that after the doctor saw Dad’s test results, Doc called Dad and asked him to go to ER, which Dad did. But when they wanted to admit him for obs, he refused to give his permission. Went on for hours. Dad demanded a second opinion. So a second team came in and evaluated him, and agreed, he should be admitted to the hospital. Dad finally gave his permission at 12:30 AM Friday morning after arriving Thursday afternoon. His wife said she left the hospital bone tired but encountered a huge thunderstorm. Not wanting to drive the highways and Interstates of San Antonio, Texas, in the rain, she found a chair and spent the night sleeping in it.
Gotta call them to get the lowdown on here and now.
If you ever read my blog, you can imagine how The Neurons reacted to news about Dad and his health. All manner of songs, poetry, and essays skated through the mental scene while I reflected about who I think Dad is and how he influenced me. As I’m still trying to figure him at with me at 68 years old, I ended up with “Alive” by Pearl Jam from 1991 in my morning mental music stream (Trademark grandfathered). Of course, figuring out Dad is a moving target. I’m changing in slow ways most days, and so is he. We don’t see one another often — he lives in Texas and I live in Oregon — and we don’t talk often. We try, and we mean to, but we’re the same in that way, sort of strange loners who socialize well but aren’t terribly sentimental. We can hazard the company of others but we’re very satisfied being on our own.
Stay strong, be well, keep positive. Endure, lean forward, and Vote Blue in 2024. Got my coffee so we can rock on. Here’s the tune. Cheers
Funny how memory serves and disserves us. My recollection of events varies from others. Not surprising; so much of it is shaped and handled by private agendas, shaded by emotions, chiseled by what has happened since.
I know it’s a component of why I write. Trying to understand the intricacies of memories and the dynamics of being, I look into myself for understanding and then spin this process into fiction.
Sun and clouds compete today. Their efforts culminate in a pleasant spring day, almost perfect for Sunday, April 28, 2024.
It’s 55 F at this point, just two degrees below our expected high. No rain or other precipitation is expected, despite the clouds. And guess what? No thwumper today. Don’t know if the job is done or they’ve taken the day off.
Three conversations dominate the household today. Nothing about Trump or his trials, the SCOTUS, or the election is being discussed.
No, today’s main topic began yesterday on Reddit. It was asked of women, “Which you rather meet a bear or a man in the woods?” It generates first, what kind of bear? Men are generally preferred over polar bears. People are ambivalent about the grizzly, but most said they’ll take a brown or black bear over meeting a man in the woods any day.
Salient points made were like, if a bear attacks you, people believe you, whereas, if it’s a man, it’s iffy. As one commenter summed it up for us, ‘”Har har, this woman would rather run into a bear than a man,” isn’t the comedic piece you may think it is. Instead, it’s a sad testament to the lives of many women and girls.’
One woman said in a tangent, “If I see a bear in my backyard, I’m not worried. But a man in my backyard is trouble.” She then explained her reasoning.
It’s a sad situation. So many women have been abused or killed by men that distrust among women has surged. And men are frequently responding with anger, resentment, and diatribes against women. That doesn’t move the needle in a positive way for men.
Next up in topics is whether I’ll go visit my aging mother. My wife is very supportive of me going to visit. (I actually think she’d experience it as a mini-vacation from the being who is me.) My goals would be to give Mom an emotional lift and help her with her daily needs, providing a break for the rest. They rightfully sound emotionally exhausted. I think I’ve decided that I will go. I just need to make the plans.
Finally, in what is seen as good news, our third subject is how great Tucker is doing. Energy levels and interaction are up, he’s gained more weight, and he’s eating with enthusiasm. I was telling him every day that he needs to eat and gain weight and strength, and he’s earnestly doing so.
Today’s song comes from looking for the thwumper yesterday. My wife was trying to see it but the sun was in her eyes. Hearing this, The Neurons responded with “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds”.
The 1967 song is a Beatles composition. Written mostly by John Lennon, it was inspired by his son’s artwork about a classmate. Young Julian Lennon specifically told his father the drawing was “Lucy – in the sky with diamonds.” (h/t to Wikipedia.org).
I know of the original song and covers by three other bands or individuals. I always enjoyed Elton John’s 1974 cover best, so I went with it.
Be positive, lean forward, remain strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee has found its way into me. Time to rock and write, at least one more time.
Michael Seidel, writer 