Another Day Older and Deeper In Debt....

Ok, so this weekend was a bust for story writing. But hey, look at the fire pit we built!

After digging out a fair bit of the yard (and it was raining most of the time so it was actually more mud than dirt), shoveling a cubic yard of gravel around, and moving 280 retaining wall bricks around the yard (sadly, multiple times)...I just didn't have much in me at the end of the night.

Well, okay, just enough in me to make sure pizza, or burritos, or whatever it was that we were eating got into my mouth.

However, I am working on story catch up. All is not lost, and we'll have a hell of a party space this summer....or whenever it stops raining here in Portland.

Defenestrate

Word of the Day Wednesday, March 24, 2010

defenestrate

\dee-FEN-uh-strayt\ , transitive verb;

1. To throw out of a window.

They drove along in silence. The warm summer air blowing in through the rolled down windows of the pick-up truck. The air wasn't cool enough to be refreshing, but it still felt good.

Margaret put her arm outside the window and moved it up and down in the air streaming around them. Kate looked over at her, her cowboy hat tipped back, and smiled. The hills and highway stretched on endlessly in front of them, and even though they were speeding into the future at 75 miles per hour, it left lazy as if they were traveling at a leisurely pace.

It had seemed like a lifetime ago that Kate had reached over and had defenestrated her bag speeding along the highway at 90, yelling at her the entire time. She had demanded that Kate let her out to retrieve her belongings. Everything she had left in the world. Kate had slammed on the brakes, the pick-up fish-tailing as it screeched to a halt and told her that if she got out of the car she would be hitch hiking to Austin.

She had gotten out of the truck anyway, and had watcher her life speed off without her.

It had taken a good hour to collect all the items that had burst out of her bag. In which time Kate had cooled off and returned for her. Things would be better. She knew this because she did not have the imagination to fathom them any worse.

Exiguous

Word of the Day Tuesday, March 23, 2010

exiguous

\ig-ZIG-yoo-us\ , adjective;

1. Extremely scanty; meager.

Loretta clutched her handbag, took a deep breath, and forced herself to walk into the store. It was like being submerged into Barbie's lingerie drawer. Hot pink, lace, ruffles everywhere. She stiffly walked over to a rack of camisoles and started flipping through the hangers, not even looking at the clothing. She was acutely aware of how out of place she looked. Dressed head to toe in black, well over 45, and with a stout build. She looked like frisking Darth Vader.

Darth Vader in a teddy. She giggled at the mental image and uttered a silent Fuck You to the store. Darth Vader deserved to get laid too.

"Are you finding everything okay?" a perky voice chirped behind her. Loretta turned around and was dismayed to see a blond, beautiful, hugely breasted nineteen year old sales clerk.

"I'm looking for a night gown. Something special," she replied, mentally turning on her Light Saber.

"We can definitely find you something. Are you looking for cute? Sexy? I want him to ravish me? Or mount him and spank him?" the girl asked smiling brightly.

Loretta smiled. The Force was strong with this one.

In her mind's eye she had always imagined an outrageously exiguous piece of lingerie for this particular night

"What exactly is the difference between ravish and spank?" she asked coyly.

The girl smiled back, "Let me show you."

Cacophony

Word of the Day Monday, March 22, 2010

cacophony

\kuh-KAH-fuh-nee\ , noun;

1. Harsh or discordant sound; dissonance.
2. The use of harsh or discordant sounds in literary composition.

Elliot pulled the front door shut behind her and started to dig through her purse looking for her keys. Her mother always chastised her for being so disorganized. "Just put your keys in the same place every time you come home," she had snapped irritably one morning while Elliot rummaged around the house. Elliot had decided a better solution would be to ride the bus to work in lieu of bumming a ride off of her mother in the morning.

Her fingers finally brushed the key ring and she quickly turned the dead bolt with a click. Tossing her keys haphazardly back into her purse she looked up at the sun caressed morning sky. It was definitely transitioning into spring. The chilly mornings now mild and sweet smelling.

This thought was greeted by a cacophony of honking noises somewhere above her head. She looked up in curiosity. The same blue sky beamed gently down at her. Then, suddenly, she saw a dark wing and then several bodies appear as a very large flock of geese spilled through the air. The honking and calling overwhelming all other morning noises.

Elliot stood on the front porch, head upturned until they were all out of sight.

Finally. God, finally. Something in her brain clicked. It was time for her to leave and return to where she belonged too.

Fatidic

Word of the Day Sunday, March 21, 2010

fatidic

\fuh-TID-ik\ , adjective;

1. Of, relating to, or characterized by prophecy; prophetic.

Diane breathed in a deep sign hoping it would release the huge burden of weight off of her chest. She found that she had been sighing frequently these days. And for the record, it didn't help.

She had dumped her bags in the foyer of their old Seattle house, the one they had been renting under her sister's management for years, and had crawled into bed.

She had hated L.A. when they first moved there, she actually missed the rain and clouds. After a while she had started to see them as a protective layer of skin. A shield keeping her from being exposed and naked to the sun.

Well, she thought wryly, there is always the smog. Of course, she considered as an after thought, only in L.A. would you consider something as nasty and harmful as smog as protective.

L.A. had left her bare and now she was hiding.

She remembered the first luncheon she had in L.A. with the wife of one of Marvin's business associates. She had been nice enough to actually make an effort with Diane.

"It all comes down to money," she had told her simply, "It always comes down to money." At the time Diane had felt repulsed at this notion. She had been four months pregnant at the time and was completely in love with the idea of finding the best in everyone and everything. But that woman's comment, Diane couldn't even remember her name now, had been depressingly fatidic.

She had been shocked and then numbed by the superficiality, the shiny image hiding the lack of substance, and the piles and piles of money. Each bit of peeling away a layer of humanity and replacing it with Botox and laser surgery to tighten the loose places.

Now she was back in Seattle where the rain eroded her hardened exterior and let her feel vulnerable again. Vulnerable but protected. And she had her daffodils back. They had greeted her with their silent, humble dance as she had plowed her way through the front door.

Garrulous

Word of the Day Saturday, March 20, 2010

garrulous

\GAIR-uh-lus; GAIR-yuh-\ , adjective;

1. Talking much, especially about commonplace or trivial things; talkative.
2. Wordy.

I flashed by my bus pass at the driver and squeezed my way towards the back of the bus. The last row was empty so I slid into the seat by the window and flipped open my day planner. With my head buried in my to-do lists and back-yard sketches I barely noticed the man on the other side of the back row.

Ok, this isn't true. I did notice his jaunty news-boy cap.

"I'm on hold."

I look up at him and he points towards his cellphone.

"Ah," I replied, turning back toward my notebook.

"With the airlines. I got someone who doesn't speak English and she is very hard to understand," he went on.

"Yeah, especially in the back of the bus with the noisy engine," I said looking back up from my notebook, inwardly sighing.

"Yeah, I told her my flight info and she asked if I was taking Amtrak," he said raising one eyebrow dubiously.

"Ah," I said again nodding empathetically, but feeling resentful about running into Mr. Garrgulous on the bus. I only get so much time in my life, and I would never willingly engage in idle airplane chitchat with a bus stranger when I could remain caught up in my own daydreams.

Thankfully, he stands up and makes his way to the front of the bus to let the driver know his stop is coming up.

I settle back into the last couple minutes of my ride with sketches of my dream garden floating in my head.

Matutinal

Word of the Day Friday, March 19, 2010

matutinal

\muh-TOOT-n-uhl\ , adjective;

1. Relating to or occurring in the morning; early.


She drove b the building. It was run down on the outside with very few lights on outside. A giant wooden dragon head sat outside on the front corner of the property. She parked her car and gingerly made her way around the building to the entrance. Several tall bushy haired men, seriously inhaling on their cigarettes, hunched over in the brisk matutinal air, passed by her. the patches and safety pins on their leather jackets, and the combats boots giving her pause and made her feel slightly out of place.

Inside the building a small, respectfully quiet crowd stood around the stage. Two men dressed in tattered burlap sack robes stood over two pieces of machinery. Her first thought was, "Huh, ti looks like the Sand People in Star Wars." The music was a scratchy, static-y, whiny noise. The two men seriously manipulated the dials on the machines silently.

Slowly a heart-beat emerged out of the noise-music. The beat of humanity still pulling the different corners of the crowd together.

Cozen

Word of the Day Thursday, March 18, 2010

cozen

\KUZ-un\ , transitive verb;

1. To cheat; to defraud; to deceive, usually by petty tricks.
2. To obtain by deceit.

intransitive verb:
1. To act deceitfully.

It wasn't like she had tried to lie about it. It had been an unfortunate misunderstanding not a cozen act of betrayal. The thing was, she just hadn't been hit on by a man in a really long time. When he had asked her if she would like to get something to eat, and she had uncertainly babbled, "Um….okay…." she had envisioned the three of them out to dinner and was still mentally hung up on how awkward that would be.

Now, oh christ, now what had she gotten herself into? Why couldn't she just suck it up and tell him, "Um, oops. You know when I told you I was interested in dinner? Um, what I actually meant was I"m sort of married?"

Although that made her sound like an idiot, and she couldn't have the cute guy thinking she was an idiot.

Potable

Word of the Day Wednesday, March 17, 2010

potable

\POH-tuh-buhl\ , adjective;

1. Fit to drink; suitable for drinking; drinkable.

noun:
1. A potable liquid; a beverage, especially an alcoholic beverage.


John wiped his brow again for the umpteenth time and forced himself to take another drink of the marginally potable coffee the secretary had offered him.

"I don't understand," he said again slowly, looking the very serious balding man in front of him in the eye.

"What do you not understand?" the man asked leerily just as tired and at his patience end as John felt.

"I don't understand what about this whole situation constitutes sexual harassment," his voice rising on the last word.

The man sighed deeply. "Mr. Farragut. Your son pinched a little girl inappropriately on the playground. The girl complained to her mother and there is now a sexual harassment complaint."

"But it was St. Patrick's Day! And the girl wasn't wearing green! And it was on the arm! And they are six! Isn't this just a case of kids being kids?" John burst out.

"Mr. Farragut. My personal opinion on this case is irrelevant. I'm just passing along the information and advising you about the next steps in this process. Although I would imagine it would be completely reasonable to work this issue out without any further legal proceedings. However, Ms. Schubert seems disinclined to cooperate," the man replied, his lips set in a thin, drawn line.

Hirsute

Word of the Day Tuesday, March 16, 2010

hirsute

\HUR-soot; HIR-soot; hur-SOOT; hir-SOOT\ , adjective;

1. Covered with hair; set with bristles; shaggy; hairy.

Joshua's real problem was hair. His quest for attaining uber coolness forever damned by his International Hirsute Club for Men membership.

He'd always thought it was cool that he had been the first guy in his class to sprout whiskers and chest hair, like it was a testament to his manliness. However, about the time Vivian Cox announced that instead of a Treasure Trail he had a treasure Super Highway he found out that the one characteristic that he thought made him manlier actually resulted in all sorts of urn-manly behavior.

Like shaving his chest.

If the International Hirsute Club for Men had a mascot, it would definitely be the Rogue Brewery guy, fist raised defiantly in revolt, clutching a pair of hair clippers.

Gravitas

Don't worry ya'll....I have all my stories written, it just turns out I'm horrible at posting every day.

:::clapping hands:::

Ok, let's get this Story A DAY thing back on track people!


Word of the Day Monday, March 15, 2010

gravitas

\GRAV-uh-tahs\ , noun;

1. High seriousness (as in a person's bearing or in the treatment of a subject).

"How is it that you are even with this girl? She just doesn't seem like your type at all," Joshua said cradling his beer in front of him.

Jack shrugged, "I think she is very my type."

Joshua frowned.

Jack was one of those effortlessly cool people. His clothing, his hobbies, his home, his women. Everything was beautiful and chic, stream-lined and function driven like a purest minimalist, but elegant in a way that made it all seem luxurious. With a twist of 70's quirk nostalgia, of course.

If Joshua could be anyone, he would have chosen Jack.

Well, after Steve McQueen, obviously.

But part of what made Jack so effortlessly cool was the fact that it was all, well, effortless. He didn't think about any of it. Whereas Joshua was a studied cool. Jack drank his favorite microbrew because he liked the taste and drank it at this particular pub because he liked that people could bring their dogs with them to drink and he liked the sausages. Joshua drank the beer that he though would make him look sophisticated and worldly, with just a smidge of elitism, and he drank at this particular bar because the Hipsters that were always hanging around were the It group at the moment.

Jack genuinely enjoyed Joshua. He was a good guy at heart when he could forget himself a little bit. One of the good points about Josh's relentless pursuit of being cool was that he kept up on world events so he could hit all the talking points. Jack found that he was good for interesting conversation.

"But all the other girls you have dated have been so much more…polished,' Joshua continued.

"Yeah, that's true, Bridgette is a lot more earthy. But that is what is the most appealing thing about her. The things that she has in her life she genuinely cares about. She doesn't keep anything that doesn't have importance to her. She strips out the non-essential," Jack explained.

When he had first met her, this silly blind date, he had been shattered by how strong of an urge he had felt to open up to her. He had found himself inviting her up to his apartment and making her mulled wine in his grandfather's old chipped mug. Something he had never done for anyone.

He remembered that the look she had on her face that night was the same look she had the night of their first Valentine's Day together. She had scoured through a dozen antique stores buying old silver baby spoons, and being a metal artist, she had sculpted a little baby bird perched on the edge of a nest getting ready to launch himself into flight for the first time as a gift for him.

She had been searching his face the entire time he opened the gift, and when he felt his eyes tear up slightly, they both just knew that the sculpture embodied the two of them. A nascent connection leaping towards the unknown with nothing other than instinct and the belief that open, unlimited sky was where they belonged as a rationale.

"Everything about her is genuine. Her personality. Her kindness. Her art. All those other girls were just the same Gustav Klimt painting over and over," Jack continued, the gravitas of his voice causing Joshua to look up at him sharply.

Joshua secretly wondered if Jack was talking about the tacky bird statue that had appeared in his apartment a couple weeks ago. Obviously it was something Bridgette had brought over. He still couldn't understand what was so special about this hippie girl. But he also made the mental note not to bother with Gustav Klimt anymore.

Fulminate

Word of the Day Sunday, March 14, 2010

fulminate

\FUL-muh-nayt\ , intransitive verb;

1. To issue or utter verbal attacks or censures authoritatively or menacingly.
2. To explode; to detonate.

transitive verb:
1. To utter or send out with denunciations or censures.
2. To cause to explode.

They waited for the old lady with the scruffy little dog to pass by the green park bench they were sitting on before they continued their mutual fulmination.

It was silly really, clearly Johanna was correct in arguing that Pi Day was the most important holiday of the year. Bob definitely needed to take his Christmas tidings and shove them up his ass.

Erudite

Word of the Day Saturday, March 13, 2010

erudite

\AIR-yuh-dyt; -uh-dyt\ , adjective;

1. Characterized by extensive reading or knowledge; learned.

She had been immensely intimidated by the large library he kept just off of the living room. Floor to ceiling book shelves lined every wall, a large sunken leather chair the only piece of furniture in the room other than the reading lamp.

"Is this a collection? Or do you read all of these?" she asked gesturing towards all the books.

He glanced towards where she was pointing, "Oh, all the books? I suppose you can call it a collection, I don't really like getting rid of books. Maybe obsession would be a better word than collection," he said with a smile, "But I have read almost everything in there. I have a stack over here that I'm waiting to get to."

She stared again at the room full of books.

"What do you do that you have time to read all of those?" she asked.

He frowned slightly, "Well, some of them, like this one," he said walking over to one shelf full of worn paperback books, the spines heavily creased, "These are science fiction from when I was a kid. So, I guess when you consider that this represents a good 30 years worth of reading, it actually seems kind of small. Don't you think?"

She smiled, "Yeah, I guess when you put it that way it makes sense."

She gently brushed her hand against a shelf of books, a pang of jealously at his effortless eruditeness. She had felt out of her league all night long, like she was swimming in deep, choppy water and could barely keep her head from going under.

"Do you have any books on fashion?" she asked immediately regretting the request.

To her surprise his eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "It is sort of a photography book, but there are a lot of fashion icons used as the subjects. But really, in a lot of ways the clothing makes as much of an impact in the photo as the faces of the model," he said plucking a large hardcover book off of the shelf and sitting down in the leather chair.

She relaxed slightly deciding that maybe the best part about this guy was the fact that he kept trying to bridge the gaps between them.

Solecism

Word of the Day Friday, March 12, 2010

solecism

\SOL-uh-siz-uhm\ , noun;

1. A nonstandard usage or grammatical construction; also, a minor blunder in speech.
2. A breach of good manners or etiquette.
3. Any inconsistency, mistake, or impropriety.

Diane glared at him from across the table.

He averted her gaze and refilled his glass of wine.

After several heavy moments of silence he carefully set down his wine glass, "What?" he asked, exasperated. She had made the dinner reservation for that night, leaving the information about where he was expected to show up with his secretary that afternoon. Now, she had barely said two sentences to him once he had joined her at the table.

She had turned a frosty cheek to his kiss.

He, in turn, had quickly downed two glasses of wine, and was no longer very sober.

"You are a piece of shit," she replied curtly, her lips pursing.

Marvin smirked at her, "Is that all?" he asked, and took another sip of wine.

She stared at him, "I know," she replied lowering her voice.

He looked up at her, "Know what?"

"About her," she hissed leaning across the table.

He leaned back in his chair away from his wife's face, "Blah, blah, blah. I already discussed this with you. She is blackmailing me, remember? We talked about it. I'm paying her a shit load of money discretely. It is depressing the fuck out of me," he said his voice sounding very tired.

"You lied to me," Diane whispered.

"I lied to you! You are absurd!" he scoffed picking his glass of wine back up.

"You are fucking her," she hissed back at him.

He coughed as a lug of wine shot up his nose. People turned and stared as he coughed heavily. "You are being ridiculous, I made the money exchanges at the hotels like we discussed. I'm too well known in this city to meet up with her in public. We talked about this!" he said hoarsely, still trying to catch his breath.

"I have pictures you son of a bitch!" she yelled at him.

Everything in the restaurant drew to an abrupt halt, all eyes swiveling towards Diane.

"Diane, stop," he hissed.

"No! I will not stop, you miserable fuck! We are over! And the best part is that the last laugh will be on you because while you were spending all your time with your whore I was taking over your business!" she continued to yell.

His neck was crawling with all the eyes in the restaurant glued onto him waiting for what he would say. He could almost hear the gossip columnists scribbling away. "I love you," he said.

She stood up and tossed the last of her glass of wine into his face, turned on her heel, and swept out of the restaurant. The crowd had gasped at this final humiliating solecism and watched to see what the famous Marvin Cohen would do next.

He slowly pushed his chair back, left a pile of bills on the table, and gently lifted the snow white trench coat off of the back of Diane's chair as he made his way outside to catch a cab.

Salient

Word of the Day Thursday, March 11, 2010

salient

\SAY-lee-unt; SAYL-yunt\ , adjective;

1. Shooting out or up; projecting.
2. Forcing itself on the attention; prominent; conspicuous; noticeable.
3. Leaping; springing; jumping.

noun:
1. An outwardly projecting part of a fortification, trench system, or line of defense.
2. A projecting angle or part.

Eric huddled in his hut with his head buried in his arms. All he knew was that he had been captured originally six months prior, and they hadn't killed him.

He kept expecting to be liquidated, like all the rest of the humans they came across, but they didn't. He had begged and pleaded, yelling from inside his cage until he had lost his voice. Then he had lost consciousness and had woke up outside, in the same eery rock formation filled forest where they had found him.

He didn't remember how he had escaped, but he must have. He had quickly melted into the landscape hiding as best as he could. He soon ran into all the same obstacles that he had been faced with before, where to find shelter, where to find food and water, and how to keep himself undetected and safe from all the horrifying creatures that were out there with him in the rock forest.

It seemed like every day there were new challenges to every miniscule bit of progress that he had made the day before. Part of his shelter had collapsed or washed away, or his food supply missing. He remembered spending four straight days devising a contraption to collect a bunch of edible fruits that were hanging in an salient, but out of reach, branch of a tree, after a swarm of ants had devoured a couple of fig-like fruits he had saved.

All the while trying to keep on the run from the aliens. Although it seemed like they had lost the furor with which they were pursuing him. Days would go by and all he would hear would be a group of them marching past through the bushes hissing and clicking at one another.

However, the thing that he found the most disconcerting was the fact that the panther-like creatures that had stalked him the entire time he had been on the run previously had not made an appearance yet. They were incredibly proficient predators, but not this stealthy.

He couldn't quite put his finger on what was not right about his current situation, even though everything about it was not right. All he knew was that before he had been out right terrified. This time he was uneasy, and out right terrified.

Phantasmagoria

Word of the Day Wednesday, March 10, 2010

phantasmagoria

\fan-taz-muh-GOR-ee-uh\ , noun;

1. A shifting series or succession of things seen or imagined, as in a dream.
2. Any constantly changing scene.


The phantasmagoria of faces blurred together into one steady stream. Like watching a video camera on fast-forward. A face would stop in front of him, move its mouth as if speaking to him, although he would devour hear any of the words coming out of their mouths. Some of them wore masks, some wore hats. Some were pretty young women, other serious middle aged men. The only thing that remained the same was the back drop behind them.

The lights would dim around him, although they never went completely out, on some sort of regular schedule. But he had no idea what sort of time frame all this activity happen within. There was no clock visible against his backdrop.

Once or twice he thought his father's face slide past him. Which was odd because his father lived across the country in Ohio and had never been able to conquer his fear of flying to make it out for a visit. His mouth seemed to tremble and his eyes were very moist.

It took a long time for it to occur to him that it was odd that the scenery in front of his eyes never changed, and then slowly, the slightly buoyant memories of a silver car appearing suddenly started to rise and coalesce on the tip of his brain.

Sachet

Sheesh! What a break! Don't worry.....I didn't forget about you =)

Word of the Day Tuesday, March 09, 2010

sachet

\sa-SHEY\ , noun;

1. A small bag, case, or pad containing perfuming powder or the like, placed among handkerchiefs, etc., to impart a pleasant scent.
2. Also, sachet powder, the powder contained in such a case.


She slipped into the master bedroom and listened carefully for the signature noises that her parents made around the house. Her mother was singing, loudly and off-key, in the kitchen while washing the dishes, and her father was playing computer games, the sounds of sword fighting and stilted narration coming from the family room.

She silently moved across the carpeted floor over to the chest of drawers. She slid her hand lightly over the dark, smooth wood stopping on top of the cool silver nob. She fondled the elegant pull briefly admiring the comforting weight of it in her hand pleased with its aesthetics.

Silently she pulled the drawer open, lifting slightly to avoid any squeaking of the wood. Once open, the light floral scent from the sachet, buried at the bottom of the drawer, wafted to her nose. She leaned down and inhaled the scent. It smelled of her mother, of being a woman, of mature adultness, and of feminine beauty. "I got this as a wedding gift," her mother had mused, holding the green satin sack lined with ivory lace and delicate purple trimming gently in one hand.

She pushed the slips and lace aside until she found the little sachet and gently squeezed its sides. The potpourri crunching slightly under her fingers. As her mother continued to sing downstairs in the kitchen she mentally filed away this very important signature of womanhood.

Languor

Word of the Day Monday, March 08, 2010

languor

\LANG-guhr; LANG-uhr\ , noun;

1. Mental or physical weariness or fatigue.
2. Listless indolence, especially the indolence of one who is satiated by a life of luxury or pleasure.
3. A heaviness or oppressive stillness of the air.


He couldn't get over how this place seemed to embody the most extreme contradictions.

The desperate poverty in a land so abundantly endowed with natural resources. The dry, sun scorched plains stretching as far as the eye could see in one brown monotonous stretch, offset by the most vivid sun rises and sunsets of his life; colors only imagined on God's palette. The slow, languorous smiles that broke like gentle waves across the faces of the local town folk as they gathered and told stories. The same smiles that were shattered against the backdrop of the most achingly inhuman suffering he had ever witnessed.

Yet, the whole place was teeming with life, like a coiled spring waiting to be unleashed. He had never felt so alive, as if the atoms that he was made up of were vibrating at a different frequency since he had stepped off of that airplane.

Maybe it was better that she hadn't come with him. He had been crushingly disappointed, but he already felt like a different person from the guy who had brushed tears away as he made his way through security. His growth was just like the life all around him, unlimited potential waiting to be unleashed. Would all that even have been possible with a part of his past there to remind him of who he was destroying in his metamorphosis? He wasn't sure.

He rolled the acorn between his thumb and finger inside his pocket and thought the African sky was the most perfect giant canvas he'd ever seen.

Inveterate

Word of the Day Sunday, March 07, 2010

inveterate

\in-VET-uhr-it\ , adjective;

1. Firmly established by long persistence; deep-rooted; of long standing.
2. Fixed in habit by long persistence; confirmed; habitual.

She sat as quietly as she could and summoned every ounce of will power she could conjure not to swing her legs as they dangled from the pew a good foot above the floor.

The preacher droned on and on, the only other sound the rustling of hymn books and the occasional shushing of mothers quieting their children.

The sunlight slid through the stained glass windows spilling color over the congregation. She studied the red and blue light on the top of Mr. Danielson's bald head and his fat wife's neck, and thought about how beautiful they looked having been splashed with God's rainbow. "The human race sure would be beautiful if God had made the sky a stained glass window," she thought silently.

In the midst of her rainbow colored day dreams she had started swinging her legs again, although the slightest movement from her grandmother, a gesture so inveterate within both of them, brought her leg to a sudden halt.

She had always liked going to church, the white noise of the preacher giving her the chance to have an hour within her own thoughts undisturbed. Of course, she never understood what the adults were talking about when they praised or disagreed with what the preacher was saying. She had remembered her surprise the first time she learned that people actually came to church for the sermon and not for rose colored view of mankind.

Masticate

Word of the Day Saturday, March 06, 2010

masticate

\MAS-tih-kayt\ , transitive verb;

1. To grind or crush with or as if with the teeth in preparation for swallowing and digestion; to chew; as, "to masticate food."
2. To crush or knead (rubber, for example) into a pulp.

intransitive verb:
1. To chew food.

She covered her mouth full of braces and giggled into her hand.

"Isn't that just the dirtiest sounding word ever?!?" she asked incredulously. Jody continued to giggle.

"I mean, people masticate at meetings all the time, right in front of each other. We masticated at the mall today!"

"Me and Joe masticated together in the back of Baskins Robbins the other night," Jody piped up dissolving into giggles again.

"Sometimes," Anna said, clearly just warming up, "I get a really large bowl of ice cream and just got at it and masticate like there is no tomorrow. And just when I don't think I could masticate anymore, I get a second masticating wind. I literally masticate seven or eight times a day."

"Joe and I will go out to dinner and sit across from each other, stare deeply into each others eyes and masticate until they offer us the dessert menu."

"That could be a new pick up line. Not, hey you want to go out to dinner? But, hey do you wan to masticate together tonight?"

"Ha ha! Sometimes, when I don't masticate long enough, I almost choke. Masticating saves lives!"

They both broke down into giggles again.

"That is totally going to be my senior quote this year!"

Fealty

Word of the Day Friday, March 05, 2010

fealty

\FEE-uhl-tee\ , noun;

1. Fidelity to one's lord; the feudal obligation by which the tenant or vassal was bound to be faithful to his lord.
2. The oath by which this obligation was assumed.
3. Fidelity; allegiance; faithfulness.

They sat on the floor facing one another, the carpet leaving indentations on the skin of their ankles and knees.

This was the most serious of childhood negotiations. The earliest transactions of bartering and trade. The first practice of trying to deceive and swindle.

It was all in the pitch, the building up, compliment after compliment, paving the way to the deal.

Of course, being the older sister she expected the younger sister fealty to play an important role in the negotiations. As a last resort she planned on using coercion. But only as a last resort.

She flipped her sticker book open to the page of the sub-par Peter Rabbit stickers, "I'll trade you this one of Peter Rabbit, for your fuzzy Teddy Bear sticker," she offered, starting to peel the sticker off the page.

Her little sister's large blue eyes wandered down to the sticker she was pointing to, "That isn't a good one, that is a bad trade. I'll give you the teddy bear for your Black Stallion sticker," her sister countered.

Of course, at the end of the sticker trading session they both still had all the same stickers in their books, neither one willing to give too much ground.

Didactic

Word of the Day Thursday, March 04, 2010

didactic

\dy-DAK-tik; duh-\ , adjective;

1. Fitted or intended to teach; conveying instruction; instructive; teaching some moral lesson; as, "didactic essays."
2. Inclined to teach or moralize excessively; moralistic.

The droning, monotonous buzz of the tattoo needle was starting to drill its way into Elliott's brain.

She looked over and saw that the outlining was finished and he had started adding the color to her new tattoo. It didn't really hurt as badly as she had thought it would, maybe sort of like tracing on your skin with a razor blade. At first she had been concerned that getting a tattoo on the inside of her wrist would sever her arteries and bleed all over the place.

"This isn't going to like, sever my wrist and kill me or anything, right?" she asked as the guy pressed the pattern of the design over her wrist.

"Nah, this just goes into your epidermis layer of the skin. It won't hit any veins," he assured her quietly.

Elliott watched his purple gloved fingers move over the delicate blue veins showing through her wrist and hoped he knew what he was doing.

"Oh my God! Mom is going to kill you Elle," McKenna said for the hundredth time. Elliott had brought her along for support, but in-between her didactic lectures about defiling her body, she had been freaking out about their mother.

"Christ McKenna, what is the big deal? Mom doesn't even need to know about it," Elliott retorted irritably.

"Yeah, how are you going to hid that?" McKenna asked with a scoffing laugh.

"I'll just wear a bracelet over it," Elliot said with a shrug.

McKenna looked over her shoulder, "What is with the Hall's throat lozenge anyway? That may be the most random thing in the world to get tattooed onto your body."

Elliott shrugged again, and didn't consider for a moment telling McKenna the significance.

Eructation

Word of the Day Wednesday, March 03, 2010

eructation

\ih-ruhk-TAY-shuhn\ , noun;

1. The act of belching; a belch.


"Marvin, what the hell is going on with you?" Anthony asked, closing the door gently behind him.

"Nothing, nothing!" Marvin replied waving his hand about in the air.

"Nothing? This isn't anything to be blasé about Marvin. Things are, um, moving around in the wings so to speak," Anthony continued, he leaned against Marvin's desk peering down at him intensely as if he were trying to suck answers out of Marvin's eye balls.

"Moving around? Nothing is moving," Marvin mumbled opening the drawer beside his desk.

"Marvin, after that little blip last month, and it wasn't that big of a deal, just a little slip. Diane set up a meeting with the share holders, there has been a bunch of consolidation and it looks as if the majority of the holdings are with Diane now. Do you know about this?" Anthony asked.

Marvin grimaced as if in pain, and shook his head, "No, it is my company not Diane's. Christ Tony, she can't run the company."

Anthony stared at him a moment, "Marvin, I didn't want to bring this up, but there are rumors floating around that you are slipping off the rails. Drinking, carousing. I didn't believe it, but you are three sheets to the wind right now."

Marvin grimaced again, eructated loudly and his face smoothed out into an expression of relief, "Tony! I told you, I have it all under control," his voice slurring slightly, he continued to root around inside the drawer, "Ah! Here it is!" he triumphantly pulled out a bottle of Scotch.

Anthony frowned, "Marvin, this is no time to have another drink."

"This is the perfect time to have another drink. You worry too much. Diane is a gem, she isn't going to let anything happen to the business," Marvin said slopping a pour into a tumbler.

"That's not what I'm worried about," Anthony murmured quietly taking a sip of the Scotch.

Temporize

Word of the Day Tuesday, March 02, 2010

temporize

\TEM-puh-ryz\ , intransitive verb;

1. To be indecisive or evasive in order to gain time or delay action.
2. To comply with the time or occasion; to yield to prevailing opinion or circumstances.
3. To engage in discussions or negotiations so as to gain time (usually followed by 'with').
4. To come to terms (usually followed by 'with').

"Soooooo, it turns out this musical is, like, really dangerrrrrrous."

The teenage girl sitting next to me on the bus was speaking to her two friends sitting in the seats in front of me.

"Beeeccccccause, like, Kaitlyn is on vocal rest. She can't talk in class even," she went on.

"She can't talk in class?" the girl in front exclaimed, "Teachers can't call on her?"

"No, like, she is reaaaaall dedicated to the musical and opening night is coooommmming up, and all the teachers are respecting thaaaaaaat."

I tried to concentrate on my book, but her long drawn out words were driving me to distraction. Was it a temporization method honed over years of evasive teenage communication? Or was it just a bizarre quirk of teenage girls these days?

"Buuuuuuut, I think she is feeling better, beeeeeecause I was getting books out of my looooooocker and she walked by and totally smacked meeeeeeeee on the butt. She couldn't say aaaaaaannnnything, but I could just tell she had this merciless laugh on the inside that she wanted to let out."

"Oh my God," I thought, "this conversation makes me want to die."

I closed my book and starred out the window at the passing scenery mentally trying to memorize the conversation so I could mock them in my blog later that night.

Pablum

Word of the Day Monday, March 01, 2010

pablum

\PAB-luhm\ , noun;

1. Something (as writing or speech) that is trite, insipid, or simplistic.
2. (capitalized) A trademark used for a bland soft cereal for infants.

He didn't mean to be an asshole, although he was sure that would be the label he deserved. Who else critics a love letter? But he couldn't help it, there was just something about this girl that drove him to nit-pick, and the sad truth was that her letter was the longest piece of pablum he'd ever had the agony of reading.

She was beautiful, and sweet, and very kind, but not the sharpest knife in the drawer. He liked sharp. Razor sharp ideally.

He skimmed over her rambling about "being over the moon" and how she "had found her soul mate in him" and he felt mildly nauseated. No. Wait. That was just the left-over sushi he had just pulled out of the fridge.

"I'm just not that into you," he thought, putting the letter down on his dining room table, "Now how do I break the news to you?"

Quixotic

Word of the Day Sunday, February 28, 2010

quixotic

\kwik-SOT-ik\ , adjective;

1. Caught up in the romance of noble deeds and the pursuit of unreachable goals; foolishly impractical especially in the pursuit of ideals.
2. Capricious; impulsive; unpredictable.


"I know what we could do! We could break into the animal areas of the lab and set all the mice free. No more death for the downtrodden, no more torture for the disenfranchised!" Anna yelled thumping her fist on the coffee table.

Zooey rubbed her forehead, "We aren't letting any animals free. We aren't breaking into any lab spaces. Christ! This is no time to let quixotic rhetoric get in the way of a perfectly good plan."

Anna frowned, "Your plan is completely ineffective. You want to get a job in a research lab and sabotage the lab from within? Mess up samples here and there. Record data incorrectly. How is that going to make animals have better lives? Huh? They are all still going to be in cages at the end of the day."

"Yeah, temperature controlled rooms set at the tropical temperature of 72 degrees Fahrenheit for every hour around the clock, with unlimited food and water, specialized healthcare on demand and company from other mice without over-crowding. Fuck, Anna. These mice live better than most Americans. I can't really get behind the Rah Rah animal rights movement because hell, all the drugs you take for your allergies were tested ON ANIMALS you hypocrite. This is about taking down a corrupt business. And how do you do that? You fuck with their pharmaceutical capacity," Zooey ranted starting to pace around the room.

Anna pouted, "Yeah, but Andy really likes the animal rights issues, and I really want to go out with him."