Gryphondear's Word of the Day

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.

;^) Jan

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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.

;^) Jan

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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...

;^) Jan

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The word of the day for July 8, 2008 is "distinction" noun 1 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.

;^) Jan

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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..

;^) Jan

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The word of the day for July 4, 2008 is "independence" — noun — 1: the quality or state of being independent. 2 archaic : 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.

;^) Jan

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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.

;^) Jan

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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.

;^) Jan

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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.

;^) Jan

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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.

;^) Jan

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