The word of the day for October 1, 2008 is "departure" — Pronunciation: \di-ˈpär-chər\ Function: noun Date: 15th century 1 a (1): the act or an instance of departing.(2)archaic:death.b: a setting out (as on a new course). 2:divergence. 2[a departure from tradition].
Our quote for the day is from Socrates (469–399 B.C.), Greek philosopher. quoted in Plato’s Apology, sct. 42a.:
The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our ways—I to die and you to live. Which is the better, only God knows.
Paul Newman died last night. When I was in High School, I always thought I would marry Paul Newman. I never got around to figuring out how I would remove Joanne Woodward from the situation, but there y'go. I married Lloyd, instead and we all have probably been happier for this.
Paul Newman as beefcake.
It is certainly a sad thing when a childhood icon dies. Mr. Newman's acting was rightly legendary. He also managed to retire before he became a travesty as some have. His marriage to Ms. Woodward was also a thing of legend. His auto racing and the more sedentary salad dressing-etc. business showed us very different sides of our entertainer. The viewing public will certainly miss Paul Newman.
The word of the day for September 27, 2008 is “requiem” — Pronunciation: \ˈre-kwē-əm alsoˈrā- orˈrē-\ Function: noun Etymology: Middle English, from Latin (first word of the introit of the requiem mass), accusative of requies rest, from re- + quies quiet, rest — more at while Date: 14th century 1: a mass for the dead. 2 a: a solemn chant (as a dirge) for the repose of the dead. b: something that resembles such a solemn chant. 3 a: a musical setting of the mass for the dead. b: a musical composition in honor of the dead.
Our quote for today is fromM. E. W. Sherwood (1826–1903), U.S. socialite, traveller, and author. An Epistle to Posterity, ch. 8 (1897):
Westminster Abbey is nature crystallized into a conventional form by man, with his sorrows, his joys, his failures, and his seeking for the Great Spirit. It is a frozen requiem, with a nation’s prayer ever in dumb music ascending.
Although it is only a quarter to nine, it has been a perfect day so far. I slept in until 6:00; got up to put Speedy out, which was not the struggle it sometimes is; cleaned up the kitchen (it's amazing how many dishes accumulate after I've done the supper dishes); made breakfast; cleaned the kitchen again; took Speedy for a walk; did my daily devotions and folded yesterday's laundry. Now I get to put my feet up with a glass-tea and see if Lloyd will get dressed to take the car to the carwash. I'm not going to push him. If neither of us leave the house until tomorrow, I'll be just as happy.
The day is perfect, as I said. It is just cool enough not to raise a sweat during a leisurely walk—barely a breeze, which is a blessing in Kansas. A bit of ground fog lay across the grass of Wildwood Park as we started out this morning, but by the time we returned from our mile-route the fog had dissapated. The sun has come up through a thin screen of cloud to turn every blade of dew-drenched grass into a diamond studded scepter for a faery monarch. The clouds burned off pretty quickly and now the September sky is an unblemished blue bowl. There will be small planes aloft later this afternoon as pilots with planes at Dead Cow International (approximately a mile to our northwest, and I kid you not about the name) get in their airtime. Maybe if Lloyd washes his car, we'll take a picnic out to Riverside Park or to Afton Observatory by the lake afterward.
Ground fog at Wildwood Park Sunrise, Sep 20, 2008, Wichita, KS Why I am glad I don't have a mimosa tree, in spite of the lovely smell in early summer This was meant to show the dew on the grass. Oh, well.
The word of the day for September 20, 2008 is "perfection" — Pronunciation: \pər-ˈfek-shən\ Function: noun. Etymology: Middle English perfeccioun, from Anglo-French perfection, from Latin perfection-, perfectio, from perficere. Date: 13th century. 1: the quality or state of being perfect: asa: freedom from fault or defect :flawlessness. b:maturity.c: the quality or state of being saintly. 2 a: an exemplification of supreme excellence.b: an unsurpassable degree of accuracy or excellence. 3: the act or process of perfecting.
Our quote for the day is from Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (1900–1944), French aviator, writer. Wind, Sand, and Stars, ch. 3:
Perfection is finally attained not when there is no longer anything to add but when there is no longer anything to take away, when a body has been stripped down to its nakedness.
Hopefully this will be a quiet day. The rain started in again last night. If the ground weren't already saturated, I would call this a "good, soaking rain." However, it is just keeping the mower out of the yard. I'm moderately worried that if I open Speedy's pen, allowing him out into the grass, he will get lost.
Right now, having breakfasted, Lloyd is watching tv with his eyes closed. Speedy went through his lesson repetoire of come/sit/stay/down/stay/leave-it/shake—all of which he can do fairly well, but sometimes the difference between sit-stay and down eludes him. He is now asleep on the loveseat cushion where, if he lifts his head, he can look out the front window. His rump is sliding down—ever so slowly—counterbalanced by his head in the space between the couch and the drapes. I got up to get the camera to share the picture, but he had to move because I did. When he settles, I'll snap the shot. As soon as I post this, I'll pick up Mary Balough's Simply Magic, which I started to read last night. I do love the way she writes: the sense of pathos in the tension between hero and heroine is always exquisite.
Speedy on the lookout for anything that moves in all this rain.
Prayers for those in the path of Ike. And also for those who evacuated sensibly before the storm hit.
The word of the day for September 13, 2008 is "quietude" — Pronunciation: \ˈkwī-ə-ˌtüd, -ˌtyüd\ Function: noun Etymology: Middle French, from Late Latin quietudo, from Latin quietus Date: 1597 : a quiet state :repose .
Our quote for the day is from Sextus Empiricus (2nd or 3rd cen., A.d.), Pyrrhonian skeptic. Outlines of Pyrrhonism, bk. I, ch. iv, p. 7, ed. Loeb Library, Harvard Univ. Press, Cambridge (1939):
Scepticism is an ability, or mental attitude, which opposes appearances to judgments in any way whatsoever, with the result that, owing to the equipollence of the objects and reasons thus opposed we are brought firstly to a state of mental suspense and next to a state of “unperturbedness” or quietude.
Jeannette has posted a poll on the supernatural/paranormal. I have a few quibbles with polls in general, because many have questions that my answers don't truly fit. I tend to play along, however, for the entertainment value.
The real reason for mentioning Jeannette's poll is that it mentioned UFOs. I have seen a few unidentified flying objects in my time. Many of these objects were later identified to my satisfaction. A few were not. The wierdest sighting—for me—was in Utah, north of the Prominatory Point Historical Site. In 1968, the time of the sighting, this site comprised a photo exhibit and the ranger's shack. There was no potable water for eight miles in any direction. The photos of driving the golden spike that united the transcontinental railways were informative and interesting—in part because the town in the background does not exist in any fashion now.
On our way from the site, the road leads north across what was then being dry-farmed, indeed a tractor raised dust about a mile and a half west of the road. It was one of the bright days of the West without a cloud to mar the burning, blue sky. My husband asked, "What's that light up ahead?" Although the irregularly flashing light was apparent to me as well, I couldn't answer. Neither of us could remember passing a light source on our way in to Promnitory Point. It was a large light, too—larger than a radio tower beacon. Also, it appeared to be fairly close to the ground.
Eventually, we got close enough to understand what we were seeing. We identified the light source. It was a flock of swallows flying across the road and back in search of insects. As the flock flew across in one direction, their light bellies reflected the sun at us, as they recrossed, their dark backs did not reflect, thus the illusion of a flashing light.
The word for the day September 1, 2008, is "supernatural" Pronunciation: \ˌsü-pər-ˈna-chə-rəl, -ˈnach-rəl\ Function: adjective Etymology: Middle English, from Medieval Latin supernaturalis, from Latin super- + natura nature Date: 15th century 1: of or relating to an order of existence beyond the visible observable universe; especially: of or relating to God or a god, demigod, spirit, or devil. 2 a: departing from what is usual or normal especially so as to appear to transcend the laws of nature.b: attributed to an invisible agent (as a ghost or spirit).
Our quote for today is from Joseph Conrad (1857–1924), Polish-born British novelist. “Dame de compagnie,” pt. 2, ch. 4, Under Western Eyes (1911):
The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary; men alone are quite capable of every wickedness.
Today it's all about the dog. Those who don't want to read about cute dog stuff are excused.
Lloyd's dog, Speedy is a natural menace to impertinent birds, piratical kitties, terrorist squirrels and obstreperous bunnies. He will yank my arm painfully if one of these critters happens to cross our path during our daily walk. He also kills flies, which he traps against the patio door—and snakes. Not that I've actually seen him kill one, but he does this victory dance that involves rolling around on the ground. When I go to see what he is doing, there is a dead snake, bitten nearly through in several places.
Speedy's Victory Dance Yes, he actually has the snake in his mouth!
Speedy and I went to the first of eight training sessions at PetSmart on Friday. I need the course, because I never paid too much attention while my uncle Marion was training his dogs—who all became models of deportment, and most of whom were sold to people who wanted to own an AKC Champion quality dog.
My uncle was so famous for his training that a prominent family in our town asked him to train their dogs. He declined, saying, "I'll train your dogs when you train your children."
Anyroad, whether Speedy will attain AKC Championship behavior is not the point of the classes. I just want him to learn the usual good-dog repetoire—come, sit, down, stay, pick-it-up, bring-it-here, drop-it, walk-to-heel, on-your-bed, off-the-couch. I would also like him to learn that he is allowed a three-bark limit for strangers and wildlife. That will take some time, but I'm getting a squirt bottle to spray his rump with water when he barks. That will not hurt him, but will startle him into breaking the bark cycle. I understand that a Super-Soaker is better for outside, as it will carry further.
The word of the day for August 24, 2008 is "champion" — Pronunciation: \ˈcham-pē-ən\ Function: noun Etymology: Middle English, from Anglo-French, from Medieval Latin campion-, campio, of West Germanic origin; akin to Old English cempa warrior Date: 13th century 1:warrior, fighter. 2: a militant advocate or defender [a champion of civil rights]. 3: one that does battle for another's rights or honor [God will raise me up a champion — Sir Walter Scott]. 4: a winner of first prize or first place in competition; also: one who shows marked superiority [a champion at selling].
Our quote for the day is from William Bolitho (1890–1930), British author. “Woodrow Wilson,” Twelve Against the Gods (1930):
Wilson adventured for the whole of the human race. Not as a servant, but as a champion. So pure was this motive, so unflecked with anything that his worst enemies could find, except the mildest and most excusable, a personal vanity, practically the minimum to be human, that in a sense his adventure is that of humanity itself. In Wilson, the whole of mankind breaks camp, sets out from home and wrestles with the universe and its gods.
I've decided to put the word of the day at the bottom of the posting with the quote—no reason, just a whim.
Last Sunday Lloyd and I had planned to go to my sister's retirement party. I planned to be gone, at the most, for ten hours—my sister lives about 170 miles away: three hours one-way. Sister said we couldn't bring Speedy, because Sadie, her daughter's dog (a South African ridgeback cross) would already be . As the two dogs had never met, sister didn't want them (or the dogs and Lloyd) to be alone together while we were at the party. Not a problem, I thought. Speedy could stay at home out in his pen. To ease Lloyd's mind, I arranged for the neighbor lady to look occasionally out at Speedy.
As we left the house, Lloyd made a point to look out the patio door at the dog. Speedy was all settled in between the doghouse and his food and water bowls, cooling it. Lloyd got in the car; we drove off. He started this conversation about why the dog had not come with us. I had to repeat the conversation we had had several times over the past week. Maybe I got a little sharp. I don't think so, but Lloyd is very sensitive to being "yelled at." He was sulking by the time we got to Matfield Green Service Area, about 50 miles from home.
I meant to stop for gas before we got on the turnpike, but I got distracted. Theoretically, I had enough gas to get to Olathe, but making the car run on fumes is not a good idea. Anyway, as we were pulling into Matfield Green Service Area, Lloyd asked if I meant to get gas there. No, I said, we'd [I had] already decided that we would stop in Emporia. I just need to use the necessary. Well! Lloyd said he didn't want to get out of the car. So when I got back in, he was looking all pitiful. As I got back on the turnpike, I noticed a tear trickling down his cheek.
"Do you want to turn around and go home," I asked? "It would be best," he said. So he had to wait until I could turn around at the Cattle Pens, because there isn't a closer turn-around. Plus, I had to stop and gas up at Matfield Green, even though gas was fifteen cents more expensive there than it would have been at Emporia. When we got home Speedy was lying in his doghouse, asleep. After getting Lloyd settled, I got take-out barbeque and just as I started back home it started pouring. Ah, well, I drove into the garage, so I didn't get wet.
The word of the day for August 23, 2008 is "disappoint" — dis·ap·point Pronunciation: \ˌdis-ə-ˈpȯint\ Function: verb Etymology: Middle English disapointen to dispossess, from Middle French desapointer, from des- dis- + appointer to arrange — more at appoint Date: 15th century transitive verb: to fail to meet the expectation or hope of :frustrate<the team disappointed its fans>intransitive verb: to cause disappointment<where the show disappoints most is in the work of the younger generation — John Ashbery>.
Our quote for the day is from Alan Beck, “What Is a Husband?” Good Housekeeping Jul 57:
What is a husband? He is the one who, with a touch, can bring back the starlight and glow of years long ago. At least he hopes he can—don’t disappoint him.
The word of the day for August 2, 2008 is "maturity" — noun — 1: the quality or state of being MATURE; especially: full development. 2: termination of the period that an obligation has to run.
Laundry day today. I've been putting it off far too long. People will stop in the street and stare. Speedy (aka Bubbles) will hang his head in shame to be seen with me.
Now that Lloyd's dog is a year old, I have decided that "Bubbles" is not a good name. As Lloyd can't remember the dog's name anyhow, and I find it hard to call, "Here, Bubbles," without snickering, I've decided to call him what Lloyd does—Speedy—a more macho name, even if it does derive from Speed Bump.
Speedy checking for desperate kitties.
Speedy in typical pose atop Lloyd's knees—note one ear up, the other lopping over.
Speedy checking out the aftermath of the Independence Day Celebration
I'm thinking of this name change in line with those cultures in which people have "call names." One does not ask, "What's your name?" One asks, "What may I call you?" When the child goes through the tribe's adulthood ceremony (like the Bar/Bat Mizvah or Confirmation) he receives a new name that means something to him or the tribe. A name change is a good marker for the division between childhood and adulthood. Of course, new expressive names for life changes could get out of hand. "Good morning, Kicks-Tires." "Howdy, Watches-from-the-Corner-Window. How's your hubby doing?" "Oh, Dances-with-Prozac is thinking of cleaning out the garage this weekend."
Our quote for the day is from St. Paul, Bible: New Testament, 1 Corinthians 13:11:
When I was a child, I spoke like a child, Ithought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways.
The word of the day for August 1, 2008 is "palpitation" — noun — : the act or state of beating rapidly and strongly :throb.
Happy Lughnasadh to all you practicing Pagans. Happy Lammas to those who are taking their lambs to be blessed. I suppose you could call this Happy Retirement Day for my sister, Drgns4ever. This is her last day of work at the library, and she has PLANS.
One of my friends and co-workers, Vicki, came over this morning to talk to Jim, who sits next to me. She was hyperventilating and complained of chest pains. He and I talked her into going down to Central Medical, our nearest First Aid Station. The nurses there sent Vicki to the nearest hospital emergency room. Her supervisor's office assistant (that's newspeak for secretary) Teresa, went along for moral support. The emergency room personnel finally gave Vicki a pain killer, which lessened her anxiety level, as well as lessening the pain. Although they are not classing her illness as a heart attack, they are keeping her overnight for observation and further tests. Anyone who wants to add a prayer for Vicki's recovery is welcome. I'm also praying blessings on Jim and Teresa for being there in the time of need.
Our quote for the day is from Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862), U.S. philosopher, author, naturalist. “Civil Disobedience,” originally published as “Resistance to Civil Government” (1849), in The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, vol. 4, p. 358, Houghton Mifflin (1906):
A common and natural result of an undue respect for law is, that you may see a file of soldiers, colonel, captain, corporal, privates, powder-monkeys, and all, marching in admirable order over hill and dale to the wars, against their wills, ay, against their common sense and consciences, which makes it very steep marching indeed, and produces a palpitation of the heart.
The word of the day for February 30, 2008 is "omnipotent" — adjective1often capitalized:almighty1. 2: having virtually unlimited authority or influence [an omnipotent ruler]. 3obsolete:arrant.
The date in the header would be correct if Big Julie had kept his hands off the calendar. Of course the calendar was in such bad shape by the time Julius Caesar put his thumbs on it that stealing a day from February to make the month named after him was a very small offense.
The French tried to reorganise the calendar when they had their revolution. They renamed all the months—did away with the names of gods and goddesses—and straightened out the numbering system so the days were more evenly divided between months. For some reason this new system did not stick, whereas, the new Gregorian system which helped remove the precession of the equinox, eventually caught on everywhere European colonialism did. Ah, people—we rejected the new calendar, and the metric system (which my dad always insisted was a Communist plot) has yet to be fully adopted. We don't have a tyrant like Big Julie to enforce a single universal system. C'mon StarDate.
Our quote for the day is from George Bernard Shaw (1856–1950), Anglo-Irish playwright, critic. speech, Jan. 20, 1935, on BBC radio. “Mr. G.B. Shaw on Film Censorship,” The Drama Observed, ed. Bernard F. Dukore, Penn State Press (1993):
The censorship method ... is that of handing the job over to some frail and erring mortal man, and making him omnipotent on the assumption that his official status will make him infallible and omniscient.
The word of the day for July 26, 2008 is "protection" — noun — 1: the act of protecting: the state of being protected. 2 a: one that protects.b: supervision or support of one that is smaller and weaker.c: a contraceptive device (as a condom). 3: the freeing of the producers of a country from foreign competition in their home market by restrictions (as high duties) on foreign competitive goods. 4 a: immunity from prosecution purchased by criminals through bribery.b: money extorted by racketeers posing as a protective association. 5:coverage1a. 6: anchoring equipment placed in cracks for safety while rock climbing.
Bubbles took on one of the desperate kitties that roam the neighborhood as you can see in the video. I think the people that live behind us feed it. I see it on their patio more than anyplace. It's a male long-hair that occasionally comes over and marks territory on our patio near Bubbles's pen more for a show of force than actual threat. After I went out with the camera, the cat went over the fence between the utility pole and the rose-of-Sharon bush in the neighbor's yard and off toward the street. His attitude made it clear he saw no reason for hurry. The dog is just a minor annoyance. The cat will be back on his own time table.
I'm glad I didn't put the no-bark collar on the dog before letting him out for the confrontation. It depresses Bubbles to have to wear it. If I put him in the pen with it on, he goes and sulks in the dog house. If he has to wear it in the house, he huddles up to Lloyd as if that will keep him from harm. The connection has been made between collar, bark and ouch, but the connection hasn't yet been made between no-bark and no-collar.
Our quote for the day is from Crystal Eastman (1881–1928), U.S. social/political activist and author. “Equality or Protection,” Equal Rights (March 15, 1924). On Women and Revolution, part 1 (1978):
A good deal of tyranny goes by the name of protection.
The word of the day for July 20, 2008 is "insect" — noun — 1 a: any of numerous small invertebrate animals (as spiders or centipedes) that are more or less obviously segmented —not used technically. b: any of a class (Insecta) of arthropods (as bugs or bees) with well-defined head, thorax, and abdomen, only three pairs of legs, and typically one or two pairs of wings. 2: a trivial or contemptible person.
Bubbles is laying on the sofa, looking back at me with sad eyes. He has been chasing a fly that got into the house, but having no luck, for the past ten minutes. He jumped up on the loveseat to bat at the fly in the window; then chased the critter across to the sofa and nearly got it when it lighted just below the mirror. He lost it when it flew out into the kitchen area. So he came back in and plopped down on the sofa with his backside to me. I snickered at him, which is why he has turned his reproachful eyes on me. He has chased flies often enough by now that he should know that he cannot catch them. He isn't even good at trapping them behind the patio door vertical blinds. I'm usually able to shoo them out the door before they come to serious harm.
He also likes to chase garter snakes, of which we have an abundance. Fortunately, they don't often get into the house. Bubbles especially likes snakes when they are dead. He rubs his cheeks against them [euwww!!] for some unknown reason. I have been able to get him away from the dead snakes and dispose of the carcases so far. I hope he isn't planning to eat them or bring them into the house. There's only so much I can handle when it comes to snakes.
Our quote for the day is from Samuel Johnson (1709–1784), British author, lexicographer. Quoted in James Boswell, Life of Samuel Johnson, vol. 1 (1934):
A fly, Sir, may sting a stately horse and make him wince; but one is but an insect, and the other is a horse still.
The word of the day for July 19, 2008 is "shelter" — noun — 1 a: something that covers or affords protection [a bomb shelter]. b: an establishment providing food and shelter (as to the homeless). c: an establishment that houses and feeds stray animals. 2: a position or the state of being covered and protected [took shelter].
Dogs are expensive critters. Not more expensive than children, of course—no college or trade school tuition, just obedience school; no i-pods or Gameboys, just squeeky toys and balls. Still, they do have to be fed, watered, and taken to the vet. They have to have shelter from sun, rain and snow. Even without buying the designer doggy wear available, or even the entirely sensible snow boots, one has to provide collars and leads.
Last weekend, I put together a chainlink pen for Bubbles. The temporary pen, half-covered with a tarp, that I had provided for him was too flimsy to bear the weight of rain or the force of the Kansas wind. Now the pupster has a 5X5X4 pen with a gable roof. This Lucky Dog brand kit, or I should say kits as the roof comes separate, came to us from Jewett-Cameron Lumber Corp through Northland Pet Supply, Inc. The Fed-Ex person put the boxes at the side of the garage, and I easily loaded them onto our little hand truck for the short stretch into the backyard. It took me 2 day to put the thing together as it rained Saturday so that I would no sooner get started than I would have to temporarily abandon the project for the elements. Sunday evening I put the tie-downs around the top of the chainlink, put the wind bracing in place and got the top on properly. It really does keep the dog dry and shaded most of the day. He rather enjoys having a more comfortable place from which to bark at the kitty desperados across the back fence.
Our quote for the day is from Adele Faber (20th century), U.S. parent educator, and Elaine Mazlish, parent educator. How to Talk So Kids Will Listen and Listen So Kids Will Talk, ch. 4 (1980):
Let us be different in our homes. Let us realize that along with food, shelter, and clothing, we have another obligation to our children, and that is to affirm their “rightness.” The whole world will tell them what’s wrong with them—out loud and often. Our job is to let our children know what’s right about them.
The word of the day for July 12, 2008 is "thunder" — noun — 1 : the sound that follows a flash of lightning and is caused by sudden expansion of the air in the path of the electrical discharge. 2 : a loud utterance or threat. 3 :bang, rumble [the thunder of big guns].
So much for getting up early to assemble the new do-it-yourself kennel for the dog. Thunder woke us around 6:00. I put Bubbles out to do the necessary under a pyrotechnic display worthy of the Independence Day celebration just past. He quickly completed his business, came back in and huddled up to Lloyd.
As far as I can tell, the lightning was all cloud-to-cloud, but I still worried a bit because lightning is not predictable. A couple of weeks ago, a Bradford pear down at the corner was struck during a storm. It was somewhat of a wonder that the tree did not fall on the house. The neighbor says he will have to take it down. It's a shame, because that's the third B. pear on that end of the block to be taken down. The first two were in the second yard from the corner. They were damaged severely by ice a few years ago.
Our quote for the day is from Wallace Stevens (1879–1955), U.S. poet. “Landscape with Boat”:
He brushed away the thunder, then the clouds, Then the colossal illusion of heaven. Yet still The sky was blue...
The word of the day for July 8, 2008 is "distinction" noun1 a archaic:division.b:class 4. 2: the distinguishing of a difference <without distinction as to race, sex, or religion>; also: the difference distinguished<the distinction between imply and infer>. 3: something that distinguishes<regional distinctions>. 4: the quality or state of being distinguishable<no distinction of facial features in the twins>. 5 a: the quality or state of being distinguished or worthy <a politician of some distinction>.b: special honor or recognition <took a law degree with distinction><won many distinctions>. c: an accomplishment that sets one apart <the distinction of being the oldest to win the title>.
Dan's take on the portrayal of blind persons Semi-Pro and The Eye, oh My! is interesting. Nowadays in the media nobody can be "normal" anymore. As you say, if they have some perceived handicap--blindness, deafness, skin-color, victimitis--they must have overwhelmingly outstanding jobs/hobbies/looks/talents to compensate. It's like all game show contestants who are stock clerks or soccer moms must by definition also be attending MIT for a degree in nuclear physics or have organized the local SBKomen "Race for the Cure" in their spare time.
I read somewhere that one of the extras on the set of Gordon Park's The Learning Tree was told to sweep the front porch on which she was standing. She was highly offended by this request: The movie she was acting in was about Black people and these hincty people couldn't make her do menial work for love nor money.
Our quote for the day is from Florence King (b. 1936), U.S. humorist, essayist, social critic. Lump It or Leave It, New York, St. Martin’s Press (1990):
As the only class distinction available in a democracy, the college degree has created a caste society as rigid as ancient India’s. Condemning elitism and simultaneously quaking in fear that our children won’t become members of the elite, we send them to college, not to learn, but to “be” college graduates, rationalizing our snobbery with the cliché that high technology has eliminated the need for the manual labor that we secretly hold in contempt.
The word of the day for July 6, 2008 is "perigrinate" — intransitive verb — : to travel especially on foot :walk. — transitive verb — : to walk or travel over :traverse.
We did get to go up to Cybil's on Saturday. It rained on us a bit on the way, but the weather was nice the rest of the trip. Cybil had to work until 1, so we went into Kansas City, MO, to look at the Liberty Memorial and Museum. (We didn't get out of the car, but we parked and looked at the sphynxes and the tower while deciding what else to do) What we did was get a bite at the nearest Burger King. Lloyd insisted that I should give Bubbles some milk because "he hasn't eaten anything." Then we went to Troost Park, where I discovered that the dog is lactose intolerant. He had gotten the inside of his crate pretty well saturated.
I cleaned him up with paper napkins and some old newspaper found under the seat. I would have dunked him in the park fountain, but the signs said no wading or swimming. Anyway, we drove over to the Paseo and north past Truman, caught I-35South and got to Cybil's house just before she got home. Her husband, Ryan, put the dog's bedding (an old beach towel) into the washer. Cybil came home immediately after and, after changing into casual clothing, took the dog and me for a walk along the local bike path. It's very well kept up and debouches into a charming park with a large shelter used for garden markets and performance art.
After our walk, which included a good chat, Cybil fed us meat and cheese, onions, red peppers, etc. between the halves of a cheesy asiago bread. She had an Italian name for it, which I can't remember and won't ask her to spell, but it was scrumtious. After some more talk, admiring their new garden shed and playing with the dog, I stuffed Lloyd and the dog back into the car for the homeward trip, which was accomplished without problems. A good day. And today I got to give the dog a bath, so he is now snuggled up against Lloyd sulking as he finishes drying.
Our quote for the day is from William Shakespeare (1564–1616), British dramatist, poet. [Sir Nathaniel and Holofernes, in Love’s Labor’s Lost, act 5, sc. 1, l. 12-15]:
Holofernes: He is too picked, too spruce, too affected, too odd as it were, too peregrinate as I may call it. Sir Nathaniel: A most singular and choice epithet..
The word of the day for July 4, 2008 is "independence" — noun — 1: the quality or state of being independent. 2archaic:competence 1.
Today is my brother's mumble-eighth birthday. Happy birthday, Wes! A happy Independence Day to all the rest of you.
I suggest you all take a look at Slapinion's take on the day. I couldn't have put together a better nostalgic look at the trappings of the celebration.
I had intended to take Lloyd and the dog up to our daughter's house for a holiday dinner, but Lloyd is under the weather today. Maybe we can go tomorrow.
Speed Bump (aka Bubbles) and I went for our walk really early this morning. The air was crisp and fresh. Everyone's yards were looking good. A man was out pumping the bilges of his boat in his driveway. A garbage truck rumbled past us.
When we got home, Speedy didn't want to stay inside, so I put him in his pen with a couple of toys and water. After a short while, he started barking. A couple of feral cats were in the yard catercorner to us. I told him that he didn't need to save us from desperate kitties and dragged him into the house. After a few parting barks from inside the patio doors—which didn't impress the cats any more than barking from the pen—he gave up in disgust. He's keeping Lloyd company at the moment.
Our quote for the day is from Abraham Lincoln (1809–1865), U.S. president. Speech at Springfield, Illinois, June 26, 1857. Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln, vol. 2, p. 405, Rutgers University Press (1953, 1990):
[The Declaration of Independence] meant to set up a standard maxim for free society, which should be familiar to all, and revered by all; constantly looked to, constantly labored for, and even though never perfectly attained, constantly approximated, and thereby constantly spreading and deepening its influence, and augmenting the happiness and value of life to all people of all colors everywhere.
The word of the day for June 29, 2008 is "vermin" — noun — 1 a: small common harmful or objectionable animals (as lice or fleas) that are difficult to control. b: birds and mammals that prey on game. c: animals that at a particular time and place compete (as for food) with humans or domestic animals. 2: an offensive person.
I found a spider in the toilet bowl yesterday afternoon. I'm not sure what she was doing—it was hard for me to tell, what with eight legs to watch—perhaps a cross between the breast stroke and the butterfly. It hardly matters. I flushed her and her big sister that I caught in the bathtub right on down the drain. I'm not frightened of spiders unduly, you understand. It's just that the brown recluse, which is endemic in these parts has a particularly nasty bite. I've seen the photos, so if you're interested in that sort of thing, try the ask.com gallery. Yes, both of them I flushed were brown recluse spiders. I understand they have a close relative in the Northwest called a hood spider, which is more the outdoors type. My son introduce one to me that had come in on some garden greens while we were at his house.
For the most part I'm happy to let arthropods, rodents and reptiles alone. If they don't come into my house, I don't bother them. Flies, I try to shoo out an open door or window. If I see other vermin or their leavings indoors, it's all-out war. Mom always said there was no shame in getting [vermin] The shame is in keeping them. Snakes are a bit harder, as they aren't so easy to trap. Malthion will kill them, but you don't want that in the house. It's easier just to keep stopping up all the cracks and holes to keep them outside in the first place.
Our quote for the day is from Terry Eagleton (b. 1943), British critic. Ideology, introduction (1991):
What persuades men and women to mistake each other from time to time for gods or vermin is ideology. One can understand well enough how human beings may struggle and murder for good material reasons—reasons connected, for instance, with their physical survival. It is much harder to grasp how they may come to do so in the name of something as apparently abstract as ideas. Yet ideas are what men and women live by, and will occasionally die for.
The word of the day for June 24, 2008 is "electioneer" — intransitive verb — : to take an active part in an election; specifically : to work for the election of a candidate or party.
Krissy wants to know if we've been approached by campaign workers for the presidential campaign. (She was in her jammies when they came to her door.) Here we are more concerned about the union decertification attempt. The General Office personnel, which includes drafters—excuse me, design technicians—as well as office assistants, have been organized for about ten years now. Every time the contract comes up for renegotiation, some of the represented group petition to decertify our union. They have even tried to get the Teamsters and the International Association of Machinists into the arena to dilute votes for the IFTPE affiliate to which we belong. I don't really understand why. Kansas is a right-to-work state, which means they can get most of the benefits of union representation without actually joining. If they have any complaint about how the contract is negotiated, they can always join and get on the committee (in fact, we wish they would so they can complain to the right people).
Anyway, the Union reps have been at our door this past month. They've also been handing out lapel pins, flags and flyers at the entry gates at work. The anti-unionist have mostly confined themselves to inflammatory e-mails. Not that the Union has ignored electronic media. I cleaned out my Outlook mailbox at work this morning (election day) and found that fully half the deletions were pro- or anti-union. I'm glad they don't have my AOL e-ddress.
Our quote for the day is from Rutherford Birchard Hayes (1822–1893), U.S. president. Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes: Nineteenth President of the United States, vol. II, p. 497, ed. Charles Richard Williams, The Ohio State Archaeological and Historical Society, 5 vols. (1922-1926), Hayes to William Henry Smith (August 24, 1864):
Any officer fit for duty who at this crisis would abandon his post to electioneer for a seat in Congress ought to be scalped.
The word of the day for June 23, 2008 is "unsullied" — adjective — : not spoiled or made impure.
There's something about opening a new tub of butter or a new can of coffee. OK, so I'm just wierd. When I was five, I went to morning kindergarten. One winter day, it snowed while we were in class. On the way home I had to pass a ditch that was just perfect. No person or dog or bird had put their mark on that dip and mound of snow. Something told me that a snow angel or three was what this expanse of snow needed more than anything. So I provided those snow angels and got home too late to do something my mother wanted us to do. She fussed about the snow in my galoshes. "But it was snowing out," I explained innocently. It was worth the spanking.
A week ago Saturday morning, I took the pup for a walk. The sun was just right and a hint of breeze kept it cool. No one was out because they were sleeping in. It was way too early for lawn mowing. In some ways that's the best part of the week. Birds singing, but no dogs bark. Rabbits and squirrels going about their business. Just me and the dog, and he's not putting in his two cents so I can let my mind roll on as the song goes. It's a walking meditation.
We turned the corner and... The neighbor's mimosa trees had bloomed overnight.
I wish I could post the glorious smell.
Our quote for the day—which doesn't fit the mood, but is such an interesting thought—is from Arthur Schopenhauer (1788–1860), German philosopher. Originally published in Parerga and Paralipomena, vol. 2 (1851). “On Psychology,” Essays and Aphorisms, Penguin (1970):
True, genuine contempt, which is the obverse of true, genuine pride, stays hidden away in secret and lets no one suspect its existence: for if you let a person you despise notice the fact, you thereby reveal a certain respect for him, inasmuch as you want him to know how low you rate him—which betrays not contempt but hatred, which excludes contempt and only affects it. Genuine contempt, on the other hand, is the unsullied conviction of the worthlessness of another.
The word of the day for June 11, 2008 is "gruesome"; — adjective — : inspiring horror or repulsion :GRISLY.
I fell out of bed the night before last. To be more precise, I was pushed, shoved or dumped off the bed. I was rudely awakened at approximately too early in the morning to find myself not-levitating between the dog's crate and the bed. After some initial flailing about to orient myself and turn on a light, I found my husband picking himself off the floor on my side of the foot of the bed. He, dear man, did not mean to create a ruckus; he just needed to go to the bathroom.
Since he is rather top-heavy and suffers from arthritis in his knees and hips, it is fairly easy for him to lose his balance. Once having lost his balance, he cannot catch himself because of arthritis in his hands. Thus I forgive him for an unnecessary "trip". Some of you will say that I should remove to another bedroom. Well, I have thought of that. Somehow it strikes me as a defeatist attitude. He's had to give up so many of the things he enjoys this past year because of the various problems accompanying old age. I don't intend to take away another comfort
What happens when one flails about in the dark, surrounded by furniture:
Our quote for the day is from Josephine Demott Robinson (1865–1948), U.S. circus performer. The Circus Lady, ch. 10 (1926). On retiring from a long career in the circus to become a Congressman’s wife, spending hours in the confines of staid social circles:
And then came the most devastating thought of all: I was one of them. I who used to swing upside down on a living horse, who always danced when mere walking would have done, so glad was I of life, so full of health. It was the most gruesome thought I had ever had in my life.
The word of the day for June 7, 2008 is "metamorphosis" — noun — 1 a: change of physical form, structure, or substance especially by supernatural means. b: a striking alteration in appearance, character, or circumstances. 2: a typically marked and more or less abrupt developmental change in the form or structure of an animal (as a butterfly or a frog) occurring subsequent to birth or hatching.
Spring is always an amazing time. The plants green up and flowers bloom. I've been taking photos of the neighborhood on my daily walks with the dog. Some plants, of course, bloom every year and some every other year, some must be replanted every spring or autumn. Some, like the wildflower mix in my tree surround, seed themselves from year to year.
I really need to get a good recorder to take to work with me. There is a row of trees between the parking lot and the street, in which a mockingbird makes his home. These spring and early summer morning he sings out his heart at dawn. I have heard him, in a few moments, imitate a robin, blue jay, crow, mourning dove, meadow lark, red-headed finch, western kingbird, red-wing blackbird and something that just goes CHIRP... CHIRP. He then takes off in a flurry of white-banded wings in an aerial display to attract potential mates. Very impressive.
Our quote for the day is from Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882), U.S. essayist, poet, philosopher. Emerson in His Journals, June 1847, ed. Joel Porte (1982):
Every thing teaches transition, transference, metamorphosis: therein is human power, in transference, not in creation; & therein is human destiny, not in longevity but in removal. We dive & reappear in new places.
The word of the day for May 30, 2008 is "grammarian" — noun — one who studies: 1 a: the classes of words, their inflections, and their functions and relations in the sentence.b: what is to be preferred and what avoided in inflection and syntax. 2 a: the characteristic system of inflections and syntax of a language.b: a system of rules that defines the grammatical structure of a language.
My sister, the research librarian, just reported this exchange: A patron just called and asked, "How do you spell throwed?" Librarian: "...As in, 'You tossed the ball'?" Patron: "No, as in, 'Them having throwed their hats in the ring.'" Librarian: "I think you might want to say 'They threw their hats in the ring,' or 'They have thrown their hats in the ring.'" Patron: “Oh, you mean I should say, 'Them having threw their hats in the ring.'" Librarian: “Not quite.” The patron was happy with: “Them having thrown their hats in the ring.”
It is a good thing that my Eighth Grade English Teacher, Mrs. Deutch, was not fielding that call. She was a strict grammarian, who took no nonsense from anyone—on any front. She would haul a six-foot, Tenth Grade Remedial student out of the hallway to spit his gum into her wastebasket. She would walk between the students' desks during tests, singing very softly, "If you see me coming better step aside./ Many men didn't, and many men died./ One gun of iron, the other of steel,/ If the right don't get you, then the left one will." (For those of you not old enough to remember Tennessee Earnie Ford, this is a verse from the coal miner song, "Sixteen Tons.")
Mrs. Deutch had us all buy a book of grammar/style that I wish I had today, because it showed how to diagram sentences. This is a dying skill, as most people don't write or read sentences of more than five words anymore. Yet, if one wants to read poetry or philosophy or anything written before the end of the Victorian era, diagramming sentences can bring meaning out of seeming chaos. Let's see, start with your subject on a horizontal line with a vertical stroke dividing it from the predicate...
Our quote for the day is from Juvenal (fl. 1st to 2d cent. A.D.): Grammarian, orator, geometrician; painter, gymnastic teacher, physician; fortune-teller, rope-dancer, conjuror,—he knew everything.
My sister and I were decrying modern times—O tempore, O mores. People today seem to dislike themselves. They want to be someone else. They want to be thought "mad, bad and dangerous to know." At the same time, they don't want anyone to think that they are "different" or crazy. When creating cards in her friend Betty's craft class, my sister deliberately changes things to suit herself. Others in the class get upset that Sis's efforts aren't exactly like the examples. Betty tells the others that it's all right. If they want identical cards, they should buy them from Hallmark.
My friend Monae of Sometimes A Sigh Says It All..... is the real inspiration for this word. She was termed "silly" by someone whom she values—as though silly is a bad thing. I believe that a certain amount of silliness is necessary in this world. It's both the innocence that brings us to Heaven and the non-linear thinking known as genius. It's the joke that keeps us from slipping into despair and the harbinger of hope. So, Monae, keep on being silly. Gift the rest of us with the imperfection of innocent enjoyment of the world.
Dogs know how to be imperfect.
Our quote for the day is from Henry Miller (1891–1980), U.S. author. “Reflections of Writing,” The Wisdom of the Heart (1947):
The world itself is pregnant with failure, is the perfect manifestation of imperfection, of the consciousness of failure.
The word of the day for February 6, 2008 is "purloin" — transitive verb — : to appropriate wrongfully and often by a breach of trust.
Dan of Slapinions wrote in counter-response to a note I left in his blog: In the ninth century, the Church measured the day as starting at sunset, in accordance with the Florentine calendar. Although All Saints' Day is now considered to occur one day after Halloween, the two holidays were, at that time, celebrated on the same day.
I really like the whys and wherefores of the holidays we celebrate and the dates on which they are celebrated. Most of the Christian holidays are celebrated on days reserved for other deities. For instance, the nativity of Christ is pretty much accepted nowadays to not have happened on December 25 from evidence presented in the Gospels. Dec. 25th was celebrated as the birthday of Mithras. Many of the saints who were downgraded in the Roman Catholice housecleaning a few years back were just whitewashed local deities anyway.
Then we have nations creating secular holidays like Memorial Day and Cinco de Mayo, Juneteenth and Labor Day (which is celebrated on May 1st in most places, but the first Monday of September in the US). For sheer nerve, we also have the commercial "celebrations" created by the greeting card companies: Sweetness Day and Grandparents' Day. Personally, I like to celebrate October 4th as Broderick Crawford Day since I heard it posited by Garrison Keillor several years ago. Once when I mentioned this holiday while buying a KFC dinner, the sweet-young-thing clerk said: "I'm sorry, I wouldn't know about that. I'm not from around here."
Those of you who, like the KFC clerk, are too young to remember the 1950's television show Highway Patrol—starring Mr. Crawford behind the wheel of a CHP cruiser rolling through the fruit groves of Orange County—would not know that it is proper to celebrate with doughnuts and oranges on 10-4.
Our quote for the day is from George Leybourne, lyricist, "The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze":
The word of the day for May 4, 2008 is "purchase" — transitive verb — 1 aarchaic :GAIN, ACQUIREb: to acquire (real estate) by means other than descent c: to obtain by paying money or its equivalent :BUYd: to obtain by labor, danger, or sacrifice. 2: to constitute the means for buying [our dollars purchase less each year]. — intransitive verb — : to purchase something.
Cyb came down by herself Friday evening and went home again yesterday afternoon. Unfortunately, she had to fight gale force gusts and dust storms both directions. This morning there's no wind at all. Anyway, while she was down, she helped me clean out the refrigerator. We threw out the fuzzy green and pink stuff and some false-bargain meat that had proved so tough that marinating and stewing left it too hard for even the puppy to chew. All the shelves are free of milk and juice and just-plain-whatisit stains. After she went home, I even wiped out the soda pop from when the can exploded in the freezer. I just feel so virtous.
Last time Cyb was here, my son-in-law, Ryan, asserted—while walking Bubbles—that every dog should have a bandana. Cyb won't go so far as her husband, but claims that the breed specifications for border collies calls for the trendy canine neckwear. I doubt either of them means to start some group to provide dogs with cotton triangles, but Cyb mentioned the bandanas while she was doing her duty as my shopping enabler at the Petco. Bubbles needed more dog biscuits and a replacement squeeky fox. (We're averaging one every two months so far.) Anyway, the dog now has a bandana. So far he hasn't chewed on it—at least, while I was looking.
Our quote for the day is from William Shakespeare (1564–1616), British dramatist, poet. Antonio, in Twelfth Night, act 3, sc. 3, l. 44-5:
Haply your eye shall light upon some toy You have desire to purchase.
The word of the day for April 30, 2008 is "cleanser" — noun — 1 : one that cleanses. 2 : a preparation (as a scouring powder or a skin cream) used for cleaning .
Jimmy came yesterday to clean and keep Lloyd company for the afternoon. A cheerful, competent young man—I hope we suit him as well as he suits us. He did the bathrooms and vacuumed and dusted the rest of the main floor—we don't use the basement except for storage & laundry. It was so nice to come home to a clean smelling house without having to do it myself.
That's a statement I never thought to make. Mother used to say that the first sentence I ever uttered was, "I do it myself." Anyway, there's still plenty for me to do. Further, as it becomes evident that I am letting other things slide in favor of caring for Lloyd, the Home Instead agency will adjust Jimmy's hours or bring in more help for Lloyd, whichever will be most helpful. The peace of mind is worth the minor disruption of someone else in the house.
Our quote for the day is from Philip Dormer Stanhope, 4th Earl Chesterfield (1694–1773), British statesman, man of letters. letter, Dec. 11, 1747, Letters Written by the Late Right Honourable Philip Dormer Stanhope, 4th Earl, Earl of Chesterfield, to his Son, Philip Stanhope, 4th Earl, Esq, 5th ed., vol. I, p. 298, London (1774):
I knew a gentleman who was so good a manager of his time that he would not even lose that small portion of it which the calls of nature obliged him to pass in the necessary-house, but gradually went through all the Latin poets in those moments. He bought, for example, a common edition of Horace, of which he tore off gradually a couple of pages, read them first, and then sent them down as a sacrifice to Cloacina: this was so much time fairly gained.
[“Necessary-house” or “necessary-vault” was a term used for “privy.” Cloacina, or Venus the Cleanser, is referred to here somewhat frivolously as the goddess of sewers. I don't know whether to applaud this practice as a time saver or to deplore the subsequent "sacrifice" of the books. - J]
;^) Jan
P.S. Don't forget to strew primroses on your doorstep tonight, as they used to do on the Isle of Man, to keep out the evil fairies. )
The word of the day for April 29, 2008 is "toast" — transitive verb: To drink to the health or honor of. — intransitive verb: To propose or drink a toast. — noun1a. The act of raising a glass and drinking in honor of or to the health of a person or thing. b. A proposal to drink to someone or something or a speech given before the taking of such a drink. c. The one honored by a toast. 2. A person receiving much attention or acclaim: [the toast of Broadway].
Here's an excercize we all can do. Check out the L'Chaim site put up by Frank Darcy. Set an alarm for 8:00pm local time on May 1, 2008. Lift a glass to survival and to remembrance.
So many of us have lost loved ones to cancer and other causes this year. Yet many of us are surviving cancer or other possibly fatal diseases and the treatments to make us well or at least comfortable. We need to stop periodically and pay tribute to ourselves for just being here. We need to reflect on the happy times with our loved ones who have graduated out of their mortality. On May 1, at 8:00pm I intend to lift my glass.
It would be a time that we can all share, and say L'Chaim - To Life! A time to say that despite it all, we're still here, A time to say that we still doing the dance of life, A time to remember those we lost, A time to give the finger to death. So come join the celebration and toast L'Chaim - To Life!
The word of the day for April 28, 2008 is "librarian" — noun — : a specialist in the care or management of a library.
At crew meeting last week, my supervisor showed us a YouTube video called Shift Happens. It is about the paradigm shift from the Industrial Age to the Information Age. It mentions how many Google searches occur per day and asks who answered those questions before Google. The answer is librarians.
My sister and sister-in-law are both librarians. Mother would have loved for me to be a librarian, too, but I like to read too much. (Plus, I hated shelving books as a library page. It hurt to put them up without reading them.) Don't get me wrong, librarians read—voraciously, omnivorously, religiously. However, I am not willing to read stuff that I don't want to, solely for the knowlege to tell someone else where to find answers they don't have the wherewithal to look up themselves. Yet, I find that I must do too much of that as a design tech, which is drafting and configuration control—not literary research.
Our quote for the day is from Stephen Sommers, Lloyd Fonvielle and Kevin Jarre; The Mummy; 1999:
Evelyn: I am proud of what I am. Rick: And what is that? Evelyn: I, sir, am a librarian.
