Hyperbole — pronounced high-purr-bow-lee. Hyper (exaggeration, overstatement, magnification, amplification, puffery, above, beyond, super) plus bole (the trunk of a tree.) Hmmmm…..so, an exxagerated tree trunk???? That makes no sense unless one is talking about a giant sequoia. So maybe, rather than hyper-bole, it should be hyper bowl (pronounced high-purr-bow-l). Hyper (super) plus bowl (stadium for a sporting event). Super Bowl. Aha!! That’s more like it!!….
Today’s Word(s)…time warp
“Time” — the indefinite continued progress of existence and events in the past, present, and future regarded as a whole. “Warp” — buckle, twist, bend, distort. So…time warp is a distortion of the progress of existence? Sounds good!
Representative of that definition is the “Time Warp” song and dance from “The Rocky Horror Show”.
Let’s do the time-warp again
Let’s do the time-warp again
It’s just a jump to the left
And then a step to the right
With your hands on your hips
You bring your knees in tight
Let’s do the time-warp again
Let’s do the time-warp again
As I gets older and time warps, I find, in attempting to do The Time Warp, that I have become dyslexic (or maybe that’s dysmorphic…or certainly dys-directional, disorganized, and disoriented) both between left and right AND between up and down. (Sigh….) But we had a great time! (And there will be a story at some point in the near future about the first time I ever went to The Rocky Horror Picture Show many years ago…to be included in an embarrassing moments segment of the Motorcycles, Monkeys, Mischief, and My Life category.)
Schultz, PomPom, and How a Toy Gun Stopped the Violence….
It all started with the school bus. Well, that’s not entirely true. I guess it all started with the cat. A gray and white, straggly, bedraggled Persian-ish cat appeared on our back porch one winter day, looking hungry and forlorn. When we tried petting him, we discovered that his backbone was configured rather like the Alps as, despite the fluff, there was very little substance to him. We realized that, had he had a home, he would most likely have been in it. So, of course, we fed him and brought him into the house. He was a handsome fellow with a long, leonine face and pale grey ghostly eyes. However, the resident dogs immediately began to assess the situation (Schultzie, the boxer: “Wait a minute! Two dogs, two cats! Wrong ratio,” Chickie, the hound: “Yeah. We were already put-upon to let Gimpy live here. This is not okay!”) So we immediately hustled PomPom (my human son, then 8, named him) off to the master bedroom, the only room in the house that had a door that would actually stay latched. But the dogs knew he was there. They knew.
Well, the following day, the school bus dropped off a neighborhood full of kids, mostly boys, and a gleeful snowball fight began…which evolved into an ice-ball fight. The 9-year old strong man, the best little league pitcher around, had an ill-advised moment with he grabbed an icicle and heaved it toward my son. Who caught it. With his temple. I was at work, blissfully unaware of the chaos until I got the phone call from my panicked friend who was there to watch my son after school since dad was out of town. So I frantically rushed home and we frantically rushed to the hospital where he (after massive protests) received 10 stitches on the outside and, reportedly. 10 more on the inside as the deep wound miraculously did not quit reach his eye. Home we went, under instruction to have a quiet, restful evening so as not to disturb the wound.
But this was our house we were returning to. “Restful” was an unlikelihood. Having situated my son on the sofa, I had to retrieve something from my bedroom and went upstairs, followed by Chickie and Schultz…who knew were PomPom was stashed and trotted up with me, spoiling for a fight. (Chickie was often the instigator; Schultz, the muscle.) When I emerged from the bedroom and tried to close the door, it wouldn’t shut, so I turned to see PomPom’s head sticking out with the door closing on his neck. Well, not wanting to choke the cat we had just rescued, I let the door open slightly and went to nudge PomPom back in with my foot. But PomPom, quick for an ailing fellow, vaulted over the foot and landed nose to nose with Schultz.
A moment of tension-filled silence ensued, all of us frozen. Then Schultz, with his floppy boxer muzzle, began to sniff the cat, apparently figuring he’d give him a chance. Sniff-snuffle-sniff — VAP!! Lightning cat claw slap across the nose!! Stunned, Schultz looked up at me as if to ask, “Can he do that!” Then, trying again…sniff-snuffle-sniff — VAP!!! Cat smack!!! Schultz took a half a jump back, and then it was one-two-three GO! and the horrible tussle ensued. Boxer jaw clamped around cat middle; four clawed cat feet embedded in boxer face. Bounce bounce bounce around the floor. Me, yelling! My son bounding up the steps. My friend coming to try to help. In desperation, she grabbed a toy plastic rifle and bopped Schultz on the nose. Surprised, he let go just long enough for the cat to make a dive under a rocker-recliner that was close by. With PomPom’s rear end sticking out, Chickie took advantage of the opportunity to nip at the exposed posterior…which got the cat all the way under the rocker. Sigh….. Time to check for damages. Schultz had some scratches on his face. We pulled PomPom out from under the chair, and he hung so limp that we were convinced he must be severely injured and dying. As it turned out, he was just exhausted from the melee.
For quite some time, there was a very cautious truce. Schultzie and PomPom would plaster themselves to the opposite wall from one another when having to pass on the house. PomPom took up residence on top of the clothes dryer which was located in the kitchen. Schultz, who could have easily gotten to the cat, preferred to pretend the cat did not exist. Ultimately they actually became friends.
And none of the pets in the household EVER challenged Mo, my second monkey child.
Today’s Words (3 for 1)…Snorgle, snork, and snotsicle
[from the Thelmese dictionary] Snorgle (not to be confused with “snorkel”) is a unique phenomenon which occurs when a snore combines with a gurgle to produce a particularly disruptive sound capable of keeping bedmates awake for hours due to its inconsistency of volume and cadence. Along similar lines, a snork is a sort of abbreviated snore which occurs just as the would-be snorer’s head drops to his/her chest, most often when the drowser is in sitting position. Whereas snoring is generally an ongoing smooth, even sound, both snorgling and snorking are characterized by erratic and startling noises. Snotsicle is included with the other two words simply due to its alliterative similarity (the three words all beginning with “sno”) as well as its connection to noses. Snotsicle refers a phenomenon which occurs when a careless nose-blower goes out into freezing temperatures and forms a structure akin to a stalactite in a nostril. And…when the spouse of someone (who shall remain nameless) points out the formation of a snotsicle on his/her mate, one can safely bet that snorgling will be brought to the attention of the public even if the snotsicler is also a snorker!! Just sayin’…
Today’s Word…centipede
Centipede — centi (100) pede (feet). One hundred feet. One hundred little feet. One hundred little fast feet. I’m sure that another potential word of the day is centipediphobia – with which I am afflicted. Although, admittedly, if one hundred feet involve, say, fifty marathon runners, I could live with that. Or fifty ladies getting pedicures at the spa. However, the word’s actual definition is “a predatory myriapod invertebrate with a flattened elongated body composed of many segments. Most segments bear a single pair of legs”, and that is not okay.
Living on the third floor of a brick apartment building as a child, I found that insects and arachnids seldom made it up to our apartment. But on several occasions during my growing up there, a stray centipede would make an appearance zooming around the bathtub wall just as I would be getting into the tub. Yieeeeeeee!!! The stuff of childhood trauma!!!
As an adult, my fear still lurks!! I am told that centipedes are friendly critters because they eat other insects and spiders. I have struck a bargain with spiders in my home. They must abide by certain rules: don’t overpopulate; don’t grow beyond a certain size; eat your quota in bugs; and don’t invade my personal space (which means my field of vision). So, if centipedes want to be helpful household critters, those same rules would apply. And I would add the stipulation that they would not be allowed to outrun me (with the note that I am technically much more concerned with my ability to outrun them since it is highly unlikely that I’d every actually intentionally run toward one). I had a friend who recently asked me if centipedes are good swimmers. My response was that I am not sure, but I do know they are not good drowners as they do not go peacefully or gracefully.
Now that I have spent waaaaayyy too much time thinking about “centipedes”, I will probably have difficulty going to “sleep” (yesterday’s Word of the Day, which involves a lot of responsibility, anyway). But I’ll try…..
Today’s Word…sleep
According to Wikipedia, “sleep is a naturally recurring state of mind and body, characterized by altered consciousness, relatively inhibited sensory activity, reduced muscle activity and inhibition of nearly all voluntary muscles during rapid eye movement (REM) sleep, and reduced interactions with surroundings”.
Whew! What a lot of responsibility involved in sleeping! Especially when we should be using that time to rest up!
More from Wikipedia — “It is distinguished from wakefulness by a decreased ability to react to stimuli, but more reactive than a coma or disorders of consciousness, with sleep displaying very different and active brain patterns”
So…we have all that to do, plus our ability to do it is decreased!! That’s a lot to think about. Pretty tiring. I guess I’d better catch up on my sleep — but it seems like a lot of work!
Today’s Word…procrastination
Initially, I was going to procrastinate in posting a Word of the Day with the plan of doing it tomorrow. But I found this in Wikipedia: “Procrastination is the avoidance of doing a task that needs to be accomplished by a certain deadline. It could be further stated as a habitual or intentional delay of starting or finishing a task despite knowing it might have negative consequences. It is a common human experience involving delay in everyday chores or even putting off salient tasks such as attending an appointment, submitting a job report or academic assignment, or broaching a stressful issue with a partner. Although typically perceived as a negative trait due to its hindering effect on one’s productivity often associated with depression, low self-esteem, guilt and inadequacy; it can also be considered a wise response to certain demands that could present risky or negative outcomes or require waiting for new information to arrive.” So…now I am feeling the weight of the implications of “avoidance”, “negative consequences”, “depression”, and “low self-esteem”. Wow!! Taking this information into consideration, I have decided to post the above. Tomorrow’s word may need to be “guilt”. But, since I honorably credited Wikepedia for their disheartening definition, at least it won’t have to be “plagiarism”. Whew!! Now I can sleep with a clear conscience (or perhaps a tad of guilt). Either way….sleep beckons.
Today’s Word…spire
Spire — a tapering conical or pyramidal structure on top of a building, such as a church tower. We tend to see a spire as something spiritual, majestic. What about “spire” as a root word? Part of aspire, inspire, respire — also spiritual and majestic. To aspire, we are reaching upward, seeking that which is beyond our grasp. To inspire, we are lifting others upward, moving them to break boundaries into unknown possibilities. To respire is to breathe, to absorb the essence of life.
What is the spire we see when we look up? What is it that urges us to reach for the pinnacle? Each of us has goals that are individual, specific, meaningful to us. We have the power to choose the direction. Spiral upward!!
Today’s Word…lumber…
Lumber. Included in slumber. “Sawing logs” as the old saying goes. (Logs is included in blogs, but that is irrelevant). Time to lumber up the stairs to slumber and to saw lumber. I could mention plumber here, but it seems plumb dumber…
Today’s Word…digit
A digit can be a numeral, a finger, or a toe. Digit rhymes with fidget, which your digits can do. And it also rhymes with idjit (a Thelmism) which you might be if, for example, you use your central digit to “flip” an avian symbol at another idjit, perhaps one who is driving erratically.
Today’s world tends to be digital — on/off, yes/no, us/them — with checkboxes purporting to cover all the areas. But they seldom do.
Analog is better. Analog allows for nuance, for interpretation, for the infinite number of possible circumstances and responses in the realm of humanity. Take clocks, for a basic example. An analog clock shows me how much “space” I have to go between where I am now and where I need to be. Glance at a digital clock, and it announces, “Surprise! You’re late!” No, no, no. Not okay.
“One-size-fits-all” seldom fits all. “Zero tolerance” does not allow for choices, reasoning, weighing extenuating circumstances, and the natural and meaningful consequences that follow. If we respond only to someone else’s set of checkboxes, we will never stretch, grow, calculate, learn from our mistakes. Even in mathematics, although our society tends to use the decimal system, there are many possible ways to solve problems –for example, the binary system, the duodecimal system, “new math”, set notation. Why should we limit our possibilities? We could not have come so far in society without exploring, testing, developing new theories, discovering. And yet, despite the vastness of our universe, our current society keeps trying to box us in. Advertising tells us what products we “must have”. Government strives to limit our freedoms. Schools want to corral students into a narrow curriculum. Technology is often valued over the arts.
We need to stay on our toes. We need to count using not only ten fingers and ten toes but also elbows and ears and eyes and grains of sand and a myriad stars. (Those stars are out there, you know, along with a yet-to-be-known number of other constellations, worlds, solar systems, planets, societies.)
In other words, let’s not be idjits.