Thursday, June 29, 2023

Ninety Six point Eight Fahrenheit

 96.8°F

The problem with having a lower than normal body temperature is that ðŸ‘Ļ‍⚕️ðŸ‘Đ‍⚕️ medical personnel don't recognize the seriousness of your fever until it's dangerously high. When I hit 102° it's like an average person hitting 105°.

With my respiratory condition, when I have an attack, my temperature shoots up. My brain is cooking. 

So my life depends on avoiding warm air. My temperature is good today, as I am inside with my air conditioners and fans, relaxing.


"normal body temperature can range between 97 F (36.1 C) and 99 F (37.2 C)" ðŸŒĄ




Tuesday, June 20, 2023

WEP Kitchen Counters and the Refrigerated Kind #WEPFF

Hello reader! Today's post has three parts. First, a memory and why I'm so excited about this challenge. Second, the flash fiction, which is mostly meant to be funny, but is a slight commentary on how beliefs factor into arguments. And third is an info dump of knowledge related to the prompt.


💝ðŸĪĩ👰🔔 Wedding day memory:


Close Encounters was one of my mom's (RIP) favorite movies. Her mobile phone was an ancient slide-open, not smartphone. (Morpheus had one in The Matrix.) You couldn't add ringtones, you used one of the dozen offered in the menu. The tones from the Close Encounter movie, "ðŸŽĩ do do do do do" was her ringtone (and notification sound, alarm sound, etc). By April 2007, when I got married, no one else I knew still had one of those phones. Everyone else had smartphones with specialized ringtones. So, when you heard the sound from the movie, you knew "the aliens are contacting mom!" 

Also, everyone else I knew hit "silent mode" for events like a wedding. 

There I am, up on the altar of the church, holding my groom's hands, the Pastor reciting from the Bible. 

"ðŸŽĩ Do do do do do"

*Must not laugh*

"ðŸŽĩ Do do do do do"

I hear my brother trying to stiffle his laugh. *Must not laugh. Must not look at Kevin. Will not be able to contain laugh if I look at brother.

"ðŸŽĩ Do do do do do"

We can hear my mom reaching down her dress, because she always kept her phone in her bra. Apparently, my wedding day was no exception! (No, the phone didn't have a camera. No, it was not one of her bosses calling.) It was the alarm on her phone she had set to go pick my brother up for work. Mind you, he was now out of high school and had his own vehicle and she hadn't picked him up in years. But she kept the alarm because she liked the reminder that it was that time of day. (The way Church bells used to ring out at noon to mark the time. But this was more like 2:30.) 

She managed to shut it off. My brother and I managed (barely) to contain ourselves until after the ceremony. And then lost it in the receiving line as guests were exiting, and someone asked me what the "kinda familiar music" was during the ceremony. ðŸĪĢðŸĪĢ😄😄😄😄😅


wedding
Wedding Day back in 2007. There's my mom beside me.


So, yeah, when I saw this prompt, that was the first thought to spring to mind. And I have been waiting for months to share that with you, dear reader. I hope you're giggling. I'm grateful for that memory. That's really who my mom was; she could make you laugh even at the most serious moment, sometimes without trying. 



The Flash Fiction:

Kitchen Counters and the Refrigerated Kind


By Jamie

687 words MPA

Tag: What if you're an alien to those in your refrigerator? 

ðŸĨ”


"Russet, Russet, did you see that? In the light. There was a form." 

"My eyes are not what they once were, though I have more of them now. Listen, Spud, we're not meant to know what happens in the light." 

"What's all this commotion?" Water asked.

"Spud sprouted new eyes today, Water Sir, and thinks he saw something while the Great Light was on," Russet answered.

Gasps and murmurs came from the other occupants. 

Vanilla Yogurt rumbled, "We are not to observe the goings on when the Great Light is lit. That simply isn't done. If you had cultures, as I do, you would know this. Your kind does not belong here." 

"I'm in my proper drawer!" Spud cried. "I came to this place, same as you. And have been a resident longer."

"Butterworth. Butterworth! Ketchup, nudge her for me, will you?" Vanilla Yogurt waited while the door condiments woke the ancient syrup. 

"Yes, child?"

"You have survived here the longest. Does Spud belong?" 

The syrup teetered side to side for a moment. "It is not for us to say. That is for the being who comes in the light." 

More gasps came from the residents. 

"Butterworth, surely you do not believe in such stories?" Vanilla Yogurt asked, appalled at the idea. 

"Look to the one beside you. Once, she was filled with a butter spread. Now? Leftovers." 

The container wept. "It's true! I went to a hot, wet place, where everything in me was taken away. Then a dark, dry place, with other containers who once lived here. And then a different food was put in me. I returned here. And then I was put in a horrible place where heat shook me to my molecules. Then the food was gone. Then back to the wet place, the dark place, refilled with food, and here I am again. I don't know who I am anymore!" 

A voice squeaked from the smaller drawer in the middle. "I was once huge. But now, only a little of me remains. I am taken by the being in the Great Light, shoved against something sharp, and bits of me shred away. See the marks?" 

Vanilla Yogurt huffed. "Yes, Cheese, we've all heard your complaints and threats to spread mold to us all. The fact remains that Spud and Russet do not belong here. Italian Dressing, certainly you know what I mean." 

A thick accent accompanied the response from the door resident. "Ah, SÌ, but nor does Baby Tomato. Look at my label. Refrigerate after opening. See Baby Tomato? Do not refrigerate. The mark of one who does not belong." 

Cries came from the container as the babies suffered from the insult and truth. "Our flavor, texture, and scent! The volatiles are suffering." 

"Spud, what does your label say?" Vanilla Yogurt asked. 

Russet mumbled, "Cool, dark place. This drawer is cool. And, until the Great Light comes on, it's dark."

"Your starch turns to sugar in here," Water said. 

"That is old thinking. We're in here to avoid going bad," Russet said.

"You're covered in old eyes and leaking. How's that working out for you?" Water spoke with a mocking tone.

"We are not the problem. The being in the Great Light is. We have encounters where the being just turns on the light. And ones where it leaves another resident. Times that it shuffles us around, checking us, but taking none. And other times that we are taken forever." Russet summarized.

Butterworth piped up. "And a fifth encounter. When all are removed while the being wipes down our entire home. Only some of us return, but any who survive never forget the foray between the world of our refrigerator and the terror of the kitchen counters. That is why the oldest of us all believe in the being." 

Concerned mutters filled the fridge. 

"This is nonsense," Vanilla Yogurt called out. "There is no being out there. We are only here. We come and go, our numbers always changing. But this is all there is. My cultures are offended by other suggestions. Live and active cultures! There is no higher wisdom." 



Info dump:


Tom Gauld's cultural cartoons


While thinking about inspiration, I wondered what the first and second kind were, as aliens were obviously the third. I was surprised to learn that it's all aliens, and the classification is actually about the type of contact. Stephen Spielberg paid Hynek a thousand dollars to use "of the Third Kind" in the movie title. 

Hynek's classifications:
(And story examples)


The First Kind: Something spotted in the sky but leaves no evidence.
(Spud claims to see a being in the Great Light.)

The Second Kind: A UFO leaves physical traces such as burns on the ground, crop circles, broken branches, etc.
(The being leaves a new resident.)

The Third Kind: Contact is made with a U.F.O and an alien lifeform. ðŸ‘―
(Times the being shuffles the residents around without taking any.)

The Forth Kind: Alien abduction.
(The Butter Spread that was emptied, washed, filled with leftovers, heated, washed, put away, refilled with leftovers, and put back in the refrigerator.)

The Fifth Kind: Earth and an alien society have regular interactions and communications. 
(Butterworth is the nearest, knowing the being exists. But there's no real interaction/ communication. Feel free to go to your own fridge and chat with the residents there. 😉)

This scale was based on believing people who report encounters. It has been replaced. 
The International Astronautical Congress put together the Rio Scale.
It is a 1 to 10 scale and functions first to discredit anyone who reports encounters. For those who cannot be discredited (written off as whack-jobs ðŸ˜ĩðŸĪŠ), the scale then works to write off the event by blaming the weather, magnets, etc. 


do not store tomato in fridge


By the way, I'M BACK ON TWITTER! @PenMinion

Did you know about the scales? Do you believe we aren't alone in the universe, that there could be another planet with a higher-intelligence lifeform out there? 


Saturday, June 10, 2023

Back on Twitter



It was a long battle. Multiple emails sent. Actual mail sent. Effort was made.
But I'm back!



Never quote a comedian, spell well, or jokingly threaten a non-corporal entity. Abstract concepts have rights!