Horofloof (floofinition) – Animal’s sense of time, ability to maintain a schedule, and their associated method of tracking time.

In use: “Humans are often amazed by their pet’s horofloof, especially when dogs go to the door to greet their returning people. Scientists speculate that this might be because dogs note that their people’s smell has faded. Animals, however, know that as an amusing theory; their minds are attuned to the cosmic view that lets them see beyond the immediate moment.”

Friday’s Theme Music

Zounds. It’s already Friday again — Friday, December 17, 2021, to use its fully nomenclature. I’m staggered that it’s already Friday. What happened to the week? And, just two weeks remain in the month. Just two weeks remain in 2021. We are bolting toward 2022.

Okay, many respond. That’s how calendars work. How we hooman beasts track time for physical needs, work, and play. Why are you surprised that all this has transpired, Michael? Have you not been paying attention?

Nah, I think I pay too much attention. Maybe I need to let go about.

Ah, it’s sunshine streaming through blue skies obscured with filmy white ribbons. Fog is struggling to establish control, attaining some success among the trees in the mountain’s folds. Snow still reigns over the peaks and ridges, presenting them with a friendlier white majesty. Sunrise kicked in at 7:34 AM and is due to kick out at 4:40 PM. The temperature has climbed to 31 F. Should reach 44 F, which is about where we went yesterday, and is all in accordance with average expectations.

I was watching a small bird threading on and off a tree’s naked branches, a little sparrow beast. Neurons said, “I appreciate what that expression, ‘free as a bird’, means.” Because he was just going wherever, flitting about. Of course, he — or she — couldn’t see the sex from where I was — was in the elements, looking for food, a-flying and a-flittin’ to remain alive.

All that neural activity prompted a song to jump into the morning mental music stream. “Play ‘Free Bird’,” is a shout parodied in movies, but my neurons started jumping up and down, shouting, “Play ‘Free Bird’.” “Free Bird” is a song by Lynyrd Skynyrd that came out in 1974. 1974 is my high school graduation year, so this rocking song was my theme music for that year.

Keep rockin’, stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vaxes and boosters when ye can. I have my coffee, so if you’ll excuse me, destiny awaits. Cheers

A Time Dream

First, one dream ended. All I remember of it was that Glenn Greenwald was mentioned. Then I discussed someone’s book. No details from that remain with me. In the end, I was trying to explain what I meant but couldn’t think of a specific word. I tried writing it on a white board and wrote in lower case letters in red, ‘threat’. Standing back, I said, “That’s not what I meant to write.”

But a new dreamisode began. I was studying with others. We were a small class, five, learning in an old farmhouse. The other students and I were talking and joking when we were supposed to be studying. I picked up the book to try again. The subject was macroeconomics and my interest in learning it was low.

The teacher, a young, short white man with a black beard, entered and asked if we were ready for our exam. Other students who were younger than us approached our farmhouse. My class watched them out the window. We discovered they’d taken the same course and had already finished the exam. Not only that, but they were ahead of us on lessons.

My classmates and I were dismayed. We were expected to read several chapters, amounting to hundreds of pages, in a few days and then pass an exam on it? I laughed. “I need more time,” I said to the instructor.

“How much time?” he asked.

I laughed again. “A few years.”

Dream end.

Friday’s Theme Music

Dateline: Ashland, Oregon, USA. Friday, November 11, 2021. Sunrise allegedly came to the valley at 6:57 AM after a night of mild temperatures that drooped to 42 degrees F. Three cats were said to have witnessed the sunrise. This reporter reached out for confirmation but all phone calls and emails were initially ignored before one cat, speaking on condition of anonymity, said, “Listen. Time exists. But that clock and calendar crap is all human.”

“Surely animals pay attention to time.”

“Sure, but we don’t try to carve it down to tiny pieces to eat like humans do. Listen, there’s small time and big time.”

“Small and big time?”

“You don’t know this? Humans are so dumb. Small time is eating time, sleeping time, bathing time, screwing time, and playing time. That’s all the time you need. I don’t need anything fancy, like seven o’clock, to know it’s eating time. And we don’t call eating time a bunch of different names. You’re eating. That’s all you need to know. Humans complicate everything.”

“But what about hunting and killing? Animals do these things.”

“As part of eating, or screwing, but most of us only do it when necessary. Killing takes a lot of energy.”

I was scribbling in haste but he was turning away. “What’s big time?”

“Being born and dying.” He sauntered away, speaking over his shoulder. “Now leave me alone. It’s sleeping time.”

For theme music today, I’m going with Rod Stewarts’s 1989 song, “Forever Young”. I’d never seen the video before. Was living in Germany for the military and didn’t get a chance. Probably could’ve but didn’t watch much television in those days.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed by situation, and get the vax and booster when you can. I’m scheduled for the booster next Tuesday. I’ll ask the cats to give you an update once it’s done. Now. Need coffee. Enjoy the tune. Cheers

Space and Time

He sits in a chair and closes his eyes

With the space of a breath

He becomes another guy

Living in another place and time

Where he sits in a chair and closes his eyes

Ever becoming another guy

Living in another space and time

Nothing is done

Everything’s changed

And all is the same

Never rearranged

Except he sits in his chair

And closes his eyes

And becomes another guy

In another space and time

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Hello, all you hep cats. Today is Wednesday, September 29, 2021. A sluggish sunrise sifted apricot hues over the valley at 7:06 AM. Sunset will be at 6:56 PM. Clear skies triumph. Temperatures sank to 42 F overnight but have climbed into the fifties at this point. We expect a high of seventy or higher today.

On a side note, wouldn’t it be amusing and chaotic if the cultural climate, politics, and technology reflected the temperature? Thinking of the US, of course. That’s what I know. With the temperature in the 50s, I look out to see 1950 Chevies, Cadillacs, and Fords go by. People are dressed for the year. The net has gone down because it doesn’t exist. Neither does this computer. In fact, it won’t reach a temperature for me to have a laptop at hand. We’d reach the seventies today. Bellbottoms would abound.

I have a friend who uses the expression Hell’s bells quite often. This amuses me. I’d heard the expression often as a child by older adults, like Grandpa Paul. So I associate the expression to them. The friend who employs it isn’t as old as Grandpa — he would have been 130 years old at this point — and is only fifteen years older than me. But fifteen years older makes him eighty! You have to laugh at it, right? Anyway, in the context of thinking of him, I began using Hell’s bells to curse at some point of the day when something happened. Naturally, my mental music stream picked up on it and replied, “Playing ‘Hell’s Bells’ by AC/DC.” So now I have the song stuck in the stream. To be sure, it’s actually only the opening that’s stuck: my mind keep replying the song until the first chorus of “Hell’s bells” is sung. Then it starts again. Yes, I’m in a broken mental music stream loop. I keep hitting myself, hoping to jar it into normalcy. Ain’t working.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get vaccines and boosters. Here’s the song. Check out the video and how young AC/DC members look. Reflect on your own life and youth. Enjoy. Cheers

Tuesday’s Theme Music

On the Oregon coast for today, Tuesday, August 17, 2021. Sunrise was at 6:20 AM. Sunset is at 8:09 PM.

Cool, here. Rained this morning. Ahhh. Rain and coffee. Is there a song for that? We expect a high of 64 degrees F. Brilliant, walking along in the cool, fresh air, going to a coffee shop in the early hours while the sun is still clearing its eyes behind a bank of clouds. Going into a funky coffee shop. Fantastic art by local artists on the walls. Fresh coffee. Fresh pastries. Fortunate to enjoy such things.

Back home, the woman staying in our house and taking care of the three amigos told us the smoke blew away after we left town. Yes, we’re taking it personally. The heat dome wandered on. Temperatures dropped by twenty degrees. Yes, we’re taking it personally.

Talking with friends about their lives, medicines, treatments, and ailments. Friend visited Pompei back in the mid seventies. I’m listening to the Bangles’ cover of “Hazy Shade of Winter” in my head. You know, “Time, time, time, see what you’ve done to me. While I looked around for my possibilities. I was so hard to please. Look around. Leaves are brown. And the sky is a hazy shade of winter.” It’s another terrific Simon & Garfunkel composition. Paul and Art released the original in 1966. The Bangles did their bang up in 1987. Here I am, thirty plus years later, listening via technology’s assistance. Do you have a preference between these two versions, or another?

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, get the vax. Here’s the music. Cheers

Where’s The Year Gone?

A fellow blogger and I have wondered, where’s the year gone? I know, that’s not an unusual question in any year. Where’s the time gone, in general, is a diabolical puzzle. Just yesterday, I was twenty-two, something like that. I could eat what I wanted, now I wanted. Snorted doughnuts for mid-morning snacks. Partied until two AM, then went to work at seven. Ate three cheeseburgers at a sitting. Now I’m on Medicare.

A note on the Medicare. I wouldn’t have joined if not forced into it. I retired from the military. Had Tricare. Can’t elaborate on which Tricare. There are two thousand known variations of Tricare. Others are constantly being found by health professionals in computer systems. To stay on Tricare, once I ‘turned’* 65, as I did at the beginning of July, I had to join Medicare Parts A & B. Where I was paying nothing except co-pay a year ago, I was required to start paying $25 a month for my Tricare. Now I’m required to pay about $117 a month for Medicare Part B (A is free) to keep my Tricare. It’s a different form of Tricare, though. I’ll figure it out later.

Part of the year was spent on determining which Medicare parts I required. That included timing. You can’t just join Medicare at any time, you know. You have windows. You miss your window, you wait for the next window. For me, though, missing the window meant that I’d also lose my Tricare. That covers my wife, too. It’s becoming more necessary as we’ve moved toward being the oldest people on the planet. Other parts of the year were spent on questions about masking, COVID-19 vaccinations, variants, and shopping hours. But those were side ventures. Most of my time was spent wondering what I was going to eat.

In additional to a pantry and a refrigerator/freezer combo, we have a small garden. Tomatoes, squash, green peppers, kale, lettuce. It’s been a hard gardening year. Drought, you know. Hot sun, too. We covered plants up. They still weren’t happy with the heat, suggesting, let’s move to somewhere cooler, like hell.

We also have a chest freezer and additional food supplies in the guest room closet. It seems like I’m always wondering, what do we have to eat? What can I eat now? I can bore you to death with all the food we have on hand. I’m always thinking about more. It’s a joint decision that’s made. My wife and I have to agree on what to eat. That usually involves a discussion of what food is on hand. Then, if we don’t immediately have the answer (“Do we have any brown rice left?” “Go fish.”), one of us must leave our chairs and books or computers, go to the supply sources and determine if we have the needed ingredient.

After we decide, okay, we can make this, we discuss who will make what. “I made dinner last night.” “We had pizza. You got it from the pizza place.” “Still counts.”

A large part of the forces driving our discussion and my angst is that we just can’t go out and get what we want. One, restaurants have reduced hours or shut down. Two, which store will have what we need? How much do we trust them and their clientele to be COVID-19 safe? Is getting Ben & Jerry Ice Cream really worth the risk.

Yes, I say, masking up, and driving there.

What we want isn’t always in stores. If this pandemic has shown nothing else to me, it’s shown how completely dependent I am on our systems to provide me with food to buy. Whether it’s organic or processed, cooked in a restaurant or baked in a bakery, I want others doing it for me. This embarrasses part of me. That part says that I should be more self-reliant. More independent. I can fix computers but I can’t hunt meat. Or won’t.

The other part of me says shut up if you want me to go out and get a snack. Which I might do. Thinking about food has made me hungry, and there’s still a little bit of July to kill.

Where’s my mask?

*That expression of ‘turning’ an age always embellishes my brain with an image of me on a baking tray and someone using a giant spatula to flip me over.

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