aquatics
They've booked a room next to an indoor swimming pool. During each pause in the lecture, we hear splashing and giggles.
bizarro
He murders time with an online game in which something that looks like a decapitated bunny head rolls around in tunnels.
congeniality
Mandarin cinnamon tea, a small high table, a conversation that flows for an hour.
learning
It hits me again how much isn't taught at school. Even basic academic knowledge. So much gets picked up at home or in other places, like an after school activity or visits to a library, a museum, or a park.
receiving
I try without success to show a gratifying level of excitement about a gift I have no use for. I wish I could have prepared for the moment somehow.
sparkle
We walk through cold streets where glowing, cheerful lights are strung. I carry a sparkling blue bag full of chocolates.
stash
The dog tries to investigate the inside of my mouth. A couple of hours earlier I ate beef, and she's wondering if there's more to my mouth than the scent. Maybe I'm holding back on her, hoarding meat in my cheek pouches.
Showing posts with label gifts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gifts. Show all posts
Thursday, June 6, 2019
Sunday, May 12, 2019
Week in Seven Words #461
artistry
They give me a beautifully crafted card. It opens like a red flower with many delicate petals.
boneheaded
Two teenaged boys take turns stepping on the head of a rake, to make it fly up at them. They want to see if they can stop it from hitting their face at the last moment.
circulation
The ice breaker activity he proposes: after stating your name, demonstrate your favorite stretch or warm-up exercise. Someone else has already done jumping jacks, so I go with toe touches.
dimension
I've been visiting their house for years and only now discover that they have an attic.
plenty
I study the table in appreciation before the food gets demolished. There are green glistening vegetables, a mound of mashed yam, two small bowls of gleaming cranberry sauce, trays of beef, turkey, and chicken... a feast.
raking
The crackle of leaves. The scrape of the rake. The hiss of leaves compacted in trash bags.
undercurrent
A rough edge of anxiousness and resentment, a perception of favoritism, mars an otherwise fun board game.
They give me a beautifully crafted card. It opens like a red flower with many delicate petals.
boneheaded
Two teenaged boys take turns stepping on the head of a rake, to make it fly up at them. They want to see if they can stop it from hitting their face at the last moment.
circulation
The ice breaker activity he proposes: after stating your name, demonstrate your favorite stretch or warm-up exercise. Someone else has already done jumping jacks, so I go with toe touches.
dimension
I've been visiting their house for years and only now discover that they have an attic.
plenty
I study the table in appreciation before the food gets demolished. There are green glistening vegetables, a mound of mashed yam, two small bowls of gleaming cranberry sauce, trays of beef, turkey, and chicken... a feast.
raking
The crackle of leaves. The scrape of the rake. The hiss of leaves compacted in trash bags.
undercurrent
A rough edge of anxiousness and resentment, a perception of favoritism, mars an otherwise fun board game.
Friday, October 7, 2016
Week in Seven Words #307
deportment
As children they're learning the art of wearing different masks: the politely engaged one with their teachers, the unruffled, easygoing, coolly knowing one for their classmates.
photoshopped
He appears with a handlebar mustache on a Time Magazine cover. "Impressed?" he asks.
proportional
He compares my defense skills to a professional player's, in a game of basketball involving a small plastic hoop lodged above a closet door.
raspy
At the end of the week, a cold grips my throat and wrestles me down.
sweepings
The words don't hurt so much as stick to me like random rubbish, a scrap of paper I've stepped on when it's raining out.
sweetly
She likes to make each occasion more special with a handmade card. The thought and care she puts into her work creates closeness.
triggering
One of those awkward conversations where you feel as if you're surrounded by tripwires. Even a safe topic, taken slightly off course, is liable to lead to an explosion.
As children they're learning the art of wearing different masks: the politely engaged one with their teachers, the unruffled, easygoing, coolly knowing one for their classmates.
photoshopped
He appears with a handlebar mustache on a Time Magazine cover. "Impressed?" he asks.
proportional
He compares my defense skills to a professional player's, in a game of basketball involving a small plastic hoop lodged above a closet door.
raspy
At the end of the week, a cold grips my throat and wrestles me down.
sweepings
The words don't hurt so much as stick to me like random rubbish, a scrap of paper I've stepped on when it's raining out.
sweetly
She likes to make each occasion more special with a handmade card. The thought and care she puts into her work creates closeness.
triggering
One of those awkward conversations where you feel as if you're surrounded by tripwires. Even a safe topic, taken slightly off course, is liable to lead to an explosion.
Tuesday, June 28, 2016
Week in Seven Words #295
deflective
When the adults ask him questions about what he values, the boy makes flippant remarks. He doesn't like how they want to sit in judgment over his words and pick apart the things he holds important. He deliberately gives them nothing of value.
depressing
They receive love, or something like it, only when serving their parents' shortsighted and limiting needs.
dibs
A plate of puffy chocolate cake floats around the room. With bits of cake indented and crumbling, we know the kids have gotten to it first.
gifting
They send me a gift card with money from their own account. It's a lovely gift, and it reminds me that they aren't little kids anymore.
lance
A dinner that's more like a joust, the guests having a go at each other across the length of the table. All in good fun, they claim.
sizzle
The delicious crackle of a pan filled with pepper steak and mushrooms.
strive
As I get older, my relationship with my religion becomes more like an invigorating wrestling match. And sometimes like an expedition.
When the adults ask him questions about what he values, the boy makes flippant remarks. He doesn't like how they want to sit in judgment over his words and pick apart the things he holds important. He deliberately gives them nothing of value.
depressing
They receive love, or something like it, only when serving their parents' shortsighted and limiting needs.
dibs
A plate of puffy chocolate cake floats around the room. With bits of cake indented and crumbling, we know the kids have gotten to it first.
gifting
They send me a gift card with money from their own account. It's a lovely gift, and it reminds me that they aren't little kids anymore.
lance
A dinner that's more like a joust, the guests having a go at each other across the length of the table. All in good fun, they claim.
sizzle
The delicious crackle of a pan filled with pepper steak and mushrooms.
strive
As I get older, my relationship with my religion becomes more like an invigorating wrestling match. And sometimes like an expedition.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Week in Seven Words #127
filament
A friend I haven't seen or spoken to in years, speaks to me in a gift I find while cleaning out a drawer: a little jewelry box and in it a small scrolling paper bearing a message about dreams, beauty, and light. Her name signed at the bottom.
impassioned
Ray Charles sang the best rendition of "America the Beautiful" I've heard so far.
larded
A paper made indigestible by jargon.
nonpartisan
Napping on a hot afternoon is the best way to stay clear of trouble.
panicled
Purple hydrangea blossoms and books neatly stacked on my newly tidied desk.
retrogress
Without knowing it, they push me towards making the same unsuitable choices as before.
sobering
The rumble of fireworks and the sigh and shout of the crowds are pierced from time to time by an ambulance or firetruck wailing in the distance.
A friend I haven't seen or spoken to in years, speaks to me in a gift I find while cleaning out a drawer: a little jewelry box and in it a small scrolling paper bearing a message about dreams, beauty, and light. Her name signed at the bottom.
impassioned
Ray Charles sang the best rendition of "America the Beautiful" I've heard so far.
larded
A paper made indigestible by jargon.
nonpartisan
Napping on a hot afternoon is the best way to stay clear of trouble.
panicled
Purple hydrangea blossoms and books neatly stacked on my newly tidied desk.
retrogress
Without knowing it, they push me towards making the same unsuitable choices as before.
sobering
The rumble of fireworks and the sigh and shout of the crowds are pierced from time to time by an ambulance or firetruck wailing in the distance.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
"When people stop in front of my place, they bring life to me."
I like this guy. He's got a big heart.
After Googling him I found out he lives in the East Village in Manhattan. I plan to visit him at some point and bring some friends with me.
This Is My Home from Mark on Vimeo.
After Googling him I found out he lives in the East Village in Manhattan. I plan to visit him at some point and bring some friends with me.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Week in Seven Words #95
cornucopian
My plate has something of everything: turkey and spicy beef, mashed yams and herbed potatoes, cranberry sauce, broccoli and Brussels sprouts, and a slender wedge of potato pashtida (a Jewish/Israeli frittata/quiche type of food, cooked here without a crust). Apple cider is served for drinks, and for dessert there's some of the sweet corn bread that was baking while we ate dinner.
countenance
Infants can look more solemn, critical and perceptive than the adults around them.
cupcakes
While gift-shopping at a bookstore I see cupcakes everywhere: cupcake calendars, cupcake recipe books, cupcakes on cards. Maybe there's always been a plethora of cupcake products, and I haven't noticed. Now they leap out at me in shades of pastel lavender and dark blotchy chocolate, kittenish pink and creamy white, sporting sprinkles or periwinkle candles.
offshoot
We leave the paved path by the lake and go down a muddier offshoot; damp and soft, it coils past rocks and crackling bushes with berries.
orthography
I love the painstaking way they spell and write, focusing intently on each letter as if they realize how vulnerable language is to error and miscommunication. And each word they spell correctly is a door springing open.
refraction
My new glasses seem to have finally made peace with my brain and eyes.
salvaged
She uses scrap paper, old shoeboxes, felt, string and other odds and ends for her crafts projects; things that her family might have thrown out become the cards and presents she gives them on special occasions.
My plate has something of everything: turkey and spicy beef, mashed yams and herbed potatoes, cranberry sauce, broccoli and Brussels sprouts, and a slender wedge of potato pashtida (a Jewish/Israeli frittata/quiche type of food, cooked here without a crust). Apple cider is served for drinks, and for dessert there's some of the sweet corn bread that was baking while we ate dinner.
countenance
Infants can look more solemn, critical and perceptive than the adults around them.
cupcakes
While gift-shopping at a bookstore I see cupcakes everywhere: cupcake calendars, cupcake recipe books, cupcakes on cards. Maybe there's always been a plethora of cupcake products, and I haven't noticed. Now they leap out at me in shades of pastel lavender and dark blotchy chocolate, kittenish pink and creamy white, sporting sprinkles or periwinkle candles.
offshoot
We leave the paved path by the lake and go down a muddier offshoot; damp and soft, it coils past rocks and crackling bushes with berries.
orthography
I love the painstaking way they spell and write, focusing intently on each letter as if they realize how vulnerable language is to error and miscommunication. And each word they spell correctly is a door springing open.
refraction
My new glasses seem to have finally made peace with my brain and eyes.
salvaged
She uses scrap paper, old shoeboxes, felt, string and other odds and ends for her crafts projects; things that her family might have thrown out become the cards and presents she gives them on special occasions.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Week in Seven Words #80
all-purpose
When in doubt, buy them a gift card for a book store.
assurance
I half-expect an angry email. Instead I get concern, what sounds like a willingness to understand. I'm surprised. Years ago it would have been different. I wish I had possessed the confidence and faith to speak sooner.
clunky
Sitting on the floor gives me a strange perspective of the table and its unsteady piles of intermingled books, papers, notebooks, and journals. A water bottle looks like an alien totem, and the lamp towers solemnly over the laptop. Everything seems large and somewhat foolish, like children's toys meant to be tossed around and banged up.
curdled
No matter how many papers I go through, by the end of the day I'm no closer to having it figured out.
dovelike
The reading of the Book of Lamentations starts unexpectedly from a soft-spoken man at the back of the shul.
forbearing
About an hour before the fast ends, I start getting distracted with thoughts of food. My stomach isn't rumbling, but there's an odd clench to it, as if it's disgruntled but too polite to whine.
maquis
I feel like I should have learned about Nancy Wake prior to her death at age 98. She hasn't passed unnoticed, but she and others like her ought to be better known.
When in doubt, buy them a gift card for a book store.
assurance
I half-expect an angry email. Instead I get concern, what sounds like a willingness to understand. I'm surprised. Years ago it would have been different. I wish I had possessed the confidence and faith to speak sooner.
clunky
Sitting on the floor gives me a strange perspective of the table and its unsteady piles of intermingled books, papers, notebooks, and journals. A water bottle looks like an alien totem, and the lamp towers solemnly over the laptop. Everything seems large and somewhat foolish, like children's toys meant to be tossed around and banged up.
curdled
No matter how many papers I go through, by the end of the day I'm no closer to having it figured out.
dovelike
The reading of the Book of Lamentations starts unexpectedly from a soft-spoken man at the back of the shul.
forbearing
About an hour before the fast ends, I start getting distracted with thoughts of food. My stomach isn't rumbling, but there's an odd clench to it, as if it's disgruntled but too polite to whine.
maquis
I feel like I should have learned about Nancy Wake prior to her death at age 98. She hasn't passed unnoticed, but she and others like her ought to be better known.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Week in Seven Words #60
inferences
It's not uncommon for them to arrive at the correct answer through incorrect reasoning. And some of them say as little as possible, wisely concealing their ignorance.
peripheral
It can be good to sit at the end of a table, with one or two people around you to talk to. It's less noisy, with less competition over who will speak next. There's also no need to go along with the main topics of conversation.
spool
I speak quickly, my voice tugged out of me by the hands of the clock.
sprinkler
Small blue cellophane bags full of goodies - hamentaschen, peppermint patties, apples, oranges, chocolates in foil - sprinkled among people I know.
submerse
Just one tip of the tri-cornered hamentaschen dipped in a cup of almond milk.
trigger
There's a bowl of candy at the center of the table. I like how, shortly after one person reaches for a piece, a few others follow suit and take candy as well. That first person seems to give them permission, to show them that it's acceptable to take seconds or even thirds.
whet
Listening to the words of the text I want to know more, to understand the language, the people, the deeper meaning.
It's not uncommon for them to arrive at the correct answer through incorrect reasoning. And some of them say as little as possible, wisely concealing their ignorance.
peripheral
It can be good to sit at the end of a table, with one or two people around you to talk to. It's less noisy, with less competition over who will speak next. There's also no need to go along with the main topics of conversation.
spool
I speak quickly, my voice tugged out of me by the hands of the clock.
sprinkler
Small blue cellophane bags full of goodies - hamentaschen, peppermint patties, apples, oranges, chocolates in foil - sprinkled among people I know.
submerse
Just one tip of the tri-cornered hamentaschen dipped in a cup of almond milk.
trigger
There's a bowl of candy at the center of the table. I like how, shortly after one person reaches for a piece, a few others follow suit and take candy as well. That first person seems to give them permission, to show them that it's acceptable to take seconds or even thirds.
whet
Listening to the words of the text I want to know more, to understand the language, the people, the deeper meaning.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Week in Seven Words #43
demonstration
Hold a small piece of paper perpendicular to your lower lip. Blow across the surface of the paper. Watch it lift up instead of droop. Now you've got an insight into how airplanes fly. (The young boy is intrigued by his grandfather's on-the-spot science experiment. He runs off to get paper for everyone. Now we're all scientists, blowing on our pieces of paper, feeling a spark of wonder.)
familial
He puts down the book and joins us in watching and laughing at the movie. Study and work don't seem possible after the meal. We're in a semi-circle, three generations, taking a break from whatever usually calls us to other places.
flitting
In the bookstore I pause at the same tables three, four, five times in the course of browsing; I touch the books, flip through them, glance at their summaries and covers, and wait for that feeling that tells me that this one or that one will be a good gift.
iridescent
The bubbles are enormous. They erupt from large sticks and soapy ropes and glide through the air in rainbow amoebic shapes. When they explode clear pieces of their skin collapse to the ground.
priceless
"Look what I made you." (A soft slipper of felt in which to keep my glasses). "Look what I made." (A little felt coin-purse dangling from a red string, and on it a greeting for me in large block letters). "Read this one." (He leans on my shoulder and attends to stories of robot-like creatures who battle for the fate of Earth and its reserves of energy.) "How do you get it to open?" (Children's toys are so complicated.) "I'll give her pizza before her nap." (She pats at the doll's eyes and sticks a wedge of plastic pizza in the vicinity of its mouth.) "What day is my birthday?" (I tell him.) "But what day of the week will it be?" (I don't know.) "If you come I'll be so happy," he says.
rearranging
At the end of the game I wind up with two S's and two blanks, and I won't be able to call myself a respectable Scrabble player if I don't make a seven letter word. But 'morsels' won't fit, and neither will 'sellers'. The suspense mounts.
yum
Thanksgiving treats - mashed yams with cinnamon and pecans, cranberries glinting in a glass bowl, apple cider flowing from slender green bottles.
Hold a small piece of paper perpendicular to your lower lip. Blow across the surface of the paper. Watch it lift up instead of droop. Now you've got an insight into how airplanes fly. (The young boy is intrigued by his grandfather's on-the-spot science experiment. He runs off to get paper for everyone. Now we're all scientists, blowing on our pieces of paper, feeling a spark of wonder.)
familial
He puts down the book and joins us in watching and laughing at the movie. Study and work don't seem possible after the meal. We're in a semi-circle, three generations, taking a break from whatever usually calls us to other places.
flitting
In the bookstore I pause at the same tables three, four, five times in the course of browsing; I touch the books, flip through them, glance at their summaries and covers, and wait for that feeling that tells me that this one or that one will be a good gift.
iridescent
The bubbles are enormous. They erupt from large sticks and soapy ropes and glide through the air in rainbow amoebic shapes. When they explode clear pieces of their skin collapse to the ground.
priceless
"Look what I made you." (A soft slipper of felt in which to keep my glasses). "Look what I made." (A little felt coin-purse dangling from a red string, and on it a greeting for me in large block letters). "Read this one." (He leans on my shoulder and attends to stories of robot-like creatures who battle for the fate of Earth and its reserves of energy.) "How do you get it to open?" (Children's toys are so complicated.) "I'll give her pizza before her nap." (She pats at the doll's eyes and sticks a wedge of plastic pizza in the vicinity of its mouth.) "What day is my birthday?" (I tell him.) "But what day of the week will it be?" (I don't know.) "If you come I'll be so happy," he says.
rearranging
At the end of the game I wind up with two S's and two blanks, and I won't be able to call myself a respectable Scrabble player if I don't make a seven letter word. But 'morsels' won't fit, and neither will 'sellers'. The suspense mounts.
yum
Thanksgiving treats - mashed yams with cinnamon and pecans, cranberries glinting in a glass bowl, apple cider flowing from slender green bottles.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Week in Seven Words #35
administrators
The administrators who help me out are kindly, good-humored and tolerant of my anxious queries; I'm grateful they don't resemble stereotypical bureaucrats, the ones who idly bat you from paw to paw like bored cats.
covalence
I tense up in situations like these, stepping into a crowded space where I can't spot a familiar face and everyone seems to be clumped together already with their cups of sangria and their little plates of veggies and cookies. I guess their behavior reassures me to some extent as well, the fact that they're already in bunches and pairs, because it shows that I'm not the only one who feels awkward about being a lone floating atom. At last I find my way to one small group, which broadens slightly to admit me, and we stand in a little sangria-clutching circle, making introductions, searching for things we can all talk about and briefly bond over.
dance
Some of the dancing is dignified, as when we make slow turns, our palms pressed together and our skirts flaring out and then subsiding against our legs. Other times it's happily undignified, like when I'm turning in circles with a young child who is convinced that he can dance without his feet touching the ground at all.
forecasting
Leaves, gold brown and orange, whip around and batter the window like snowflakes.
goodies
She brings me a lovely new skirt the color of honeycombs and evergreens, and along with it a package of snickerdoodle animal crackers.
matches
They're strewn among the tea lights - charred and scarred canoes floundering in a calm flickering sea.
wadded
When I have a cold, the world feels like it's coming to me through a layer of cotton balls. My mouth is limp with cherry-flavored cough drop numbness.
The administrators who help me out are kindly, good-humored and tolerant of my anxious queries; I'm grateful they don't resemble stereotypical bureaucrats, the ones who idly bat you from paw to paw like bored cats.
covalence
I tense up in situations like these, stepping into a crowded space where I can't spot a familiar face and everyone seems to be clumped together already with their cups of sangria and their little plates of veggies and cookies. I guess their behavior reassures me to some extent as well, the fact that they're already in bunches and pairs, because it shows that I'm not the only one who feels awkward about being a lone floating atom. At last I find my way to one small group, which broadens slightly to admit me, and we stand in a little sangria-clutching circle, making introductions, searching for things we can all talk about and briefly bond over.
dance
Some of the dancing is dignified, as when we make slow turns, our palms pressed together and our skirts flaring out and then subsiding against our legs. Other times it's happily undignified, like when I'm turning in circles with a young child who is convinced that he can dance without his feet touching the ground at all.
forecasting
Leaves, gold brown and orange, whip around and batter the window like snowflakes.
goodies
She brings me a lovely new skirt the color of honeycombs and evergreens, and along with it a package of snickerdoodle animal crackers.
matches
They're strewn among the tea lights - charred and scarred canoes floundering in a calm flickering sea.
wadded
When I have a cold, the world feels like it's coming to me through a layer of cotton balls. My mouth is limp with cherry-flavored cough drop numbness.
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