Saturday, March 27, 2010

Week in Seven Words #8

assortment
We're the ones who don't fit neatly anywhere. Off the main room with the bright lights and song and long tables, we're in the semi-dark, five or six of us, whoever wants to drift in and talk about anything, from holiday plans to obscure historical details, and whether it's possible to both be cynical and hold onto cherished ideals. We're in the side room with the books, leftover crackers, and the windows facing sunset; in key ways we're beautifully different from one another, but seeking similar things - the pleasure of good conversation, along with room to slouch and stretch out our legs.

budding
The darling buds of March. They're set, in shades of light pink, against backdrops of gray sky or drab brick; they're framed by windows, where they seem to be looking in with rapt attention. Some trees have already flowered open, but on others the buds hold tight to themselves as long as possible; I'm expecting them to be especially spectacular when they finally yield to the season.

pantomime
To help someone out with a project, I agree to be photographed carrying out a number of different actions - playing cards, getting chased, sipping from a cup, reclining in a chair. I also need to mimic angry and violent actions - punching and kicking. I find it difficult to act those out, because I keep cracking up; I don't look angry enough. Finally I manage it but even then it feels like a comic sort of anger, as if I'm a cartoon character with steam coming out of my ears.

signal
He wants me to give him a signal if he's getting to be too long-winded in front of the guests. The signals we discuss range from the relatively subtle - three taps to the side of my nose, a beseeching stare - to the more obvious, like throwing my head back and letting out a huge groan.

steeped
The short thin raincoat isn't enough against the downpour. The rain soaks into my jeans and sweatshirt sleeves. I wear the rain on my skin for hours, cool against my thighs and wrists and the slope of my shoulders.

terrace
A light dinner beneath a peach and gray sky; the breeze for the most part is mild and pleasant. I sit alone and eat slowly. I stop often to sip my root beer and lean back in my chair.

underestimated
Very young infants are often underestimated. But there's so much that they can do, and many things that they're primed to learn. They have certain cognitive structures in place. They can pick up contingencies about the properties of the world and its objects. As the weeks fly by after birth, they show an ability to reason (in their own elusive, nonverbal way) about events in the world. The glimpses we get into their minds reveal amazing processes.

7 comments:

Plutarch said...

I have often felt that very young infants know a lot more than they let on about. I find the way they stare at you quite terrifying, as though they see into your soul. Trailing clouds of glory? Not a bit of it. Trailing an innate knowldege of good and evil, more like.

Eberle said...

I really like this week's week in seven words. The series seemed very springlike, full of story-fragments ready to unfurl in a tantalizing yet satisfying way.

There's a present waiting for you at Platypuss-in-Boots today if you'd like to pick it up...

naida said...

I like these words, especially steeped. Something about the rain that is comforting.
http://thebookworm07.blogspot.com/

patteran said...

Those darling buds. It's the daffodils that lever us out of March and into April and they're all out and making a great yellow noise around here.

How about posting a series of those panto pics? Steam out of the ears would be interesting.

I love the glorious unsubtlety of the huge groan.

Absolutely right and one of the joys of having three kids: by the time you've sort of learned the process after two, you can scrutinise the third at your leisure and observe what you describe so well.

Crystal Calliope said...

Lovely words for the week. As for babies, I think they know everything, beyond what we would categorize good or evil. Omnipotent little things, they are.
Did you see the Giveaway I'm doing? It's a wonderful book, check it out. One entry for commenting, another if you "Follow"

Blessings,
Crystal

HKatz said...

I find the way they stare at you quite terrifying, as though they see into your soul.
I agree, the look in their eyes can be preternatural.

The series seemed very springlike
Though there was some backsliding to cold weather, the weather settled into this languid springiness that I loved (and needed to convey...)

Something about the rain that is comforting.
Especially when you're indoors, and it's this steady thrum on the window...

How about posting a series of those panto pics? Steam out of the ears would be interesting.
I wish I could, but now they're not mine to share. The person I helped out is using them for a research project (my image has become an experimental stimulus...)

As for babies, I think they know everything, beyond what we would categorize good or evil.
And then they grow up and forget...

Thank you all for commenting. I love reading your thoughts.

HKatz said...

and they're all out and making a great yellow noise around here.

I walked by many groups of daffodils today, and I thought about the way you're using noise here, because it's the color and it's also that they seem like they're standing together chattering.