catch-all
She uses "heavy" to describe anything big or adult-like.
decoding
Even though he's more experienced with JavaScript than I am, he can still find it perplexing. Like why 2019 gets interpreted as a number even though it was typed as a string.
drenching
Right after we step into the store, the wind picks up, and the storm rushes through the streets like an overflowing river.
impatience
I'm caught up in a flurry of impatience with myself. But impatience is preferable to feeling undeserving and inadequate.
salesmanship
The salesman, crimped and white-toothed, hovers too much, but he does point me to something worth buying.
self-sufficient
An old woman walking with her spine perpendicular to her hips refuses help with her bags. She's holding one in each hand, and they seem to balance her.
warily
The doctor's office is tucked below street level. It looks grubby and shabby, and the air is thick with the tang of disinfectant.
Showing posts with label words. Show all posts
Showing posts with label words. Show all posts
Sunday, March 15, 2020
Wednesday, October 11, 2017
Week in Seven Words #366
association
A fun evening of Code Names, drinks, and food.
offbeat
They're helping her learn the distinction between cool weird and uncool weird. Cool weird is when you make silly faces with your friends for Instagram, maybe use a filter or app that gives you puppy ears and big glasses. Uncool weird isn't a sanctioned strangeness. Even if it's creative and doesn't harm anyone, it's suspect.
origami
She folds Trident gum wrappers into birds.
pickle
The alarm over the door begins to shriek. A worker approaches it with a grimace, then walks away. A minute later, another worker comes along, grimaces and walks away. Another minute goes by, with another grimace.
problematic
The word 'problematic' has started to bug me. People often use it in a way that's lazy and full of insinuation. "That book is problematic." Meaning? A vague unease, a condemnation without a coherent argument.
thump
Hearing about war gives him a thrill. It's the swagger of war he likes, the way deep-voiced media figures growl a threat of reprisal.
unproductive
An empty plaza framed by ads, shrubs, and an office building that looks like a fort.
A fun evening of Code Names, drinks, and food.
offbeat
They're helping her learn the distinction between cool weird and uncool weird. Cool weird is when you make silly faces with your friends for Instagram, maybe use a filter or app that gives you puppy ears and big glasses. Uncool weird isn't a sanctioned strangeness. Even if it's creative and doesn't harm anyone, it's suspect.
origami
She folds Trident gum wrappers into birds.
pickle
The alarm over the door begins to shriek. A worker approaches it with a grimace, then walks away. A minute later, another worker comes along, grimaces and walks away. Another minute goes by, with another grimace.
problematic
The word 'problematic' has started to bug me. People often use it in a way that's lazy and full of insinuation. "That book is problematic." Meaning? A vague unease, a condemnation without a coherent argument.
thump
Hearing about war gives him a thrill. It's the swagger of war he likes, the way deep-voiced media figures growl a threat of reprisal.
unproductive
An empty plaza framed by ads, shrubs, and an office building that looks like a fort.
Tuesday, December 27, 2016
Week in Seven Words #320
crisply
It's a crackling park. Branches bristle, evergreen needles scritch, mulch grinds underfoot.
enchanter
The branches wave about the tree's crown as if it's casting a spell.
frantic
In everything, she chases love, sincere unflinching love, withheld from her as a child and longed-for decades later.
loosening
Shoulders relaxing as I settle at the table with a glass of sparkling wine.
masquerade
Forehead-slapping moment when the words I've rehearsed come out costumed in a different meaning and tone.
nonfulfillment
"They don't know how to write," he says of his students. "They don't care. They think they have nothing worth sharing. Maybe they don't!"
worrying
Sucking on cough drops as the wind nips my cheeks and throat.
It's a crackling park. Branches bristle, evergreen needles scritch, mulch grinds underfoot.
enchanter
The branches wave about the tree's crown as if it's casting a spell.
frantic
In everything, she chases love, sincere unflinching love, withheld from her as a child and longed-for decades later.
loosening
Shoulders relaxing as I settle at the table with a glass of sparkling wine.
masquerade
Forehead-slapping moment when the words I've rehearsed come out costumed in a different meaning and tone.
nonfulfillment
"They don't know how to write," he says of his students. "They don't care. They think they have nothing worth sharing. Maybe they don't!"
worrying
Sucking on cough drops as the wind nips my cheeks and throat.
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
Week in Seven Words #252
empty
I work with words, I depend on them, but I can't find the right ones sometimes, not when I need them badly.
glossing
They're good at pretending. They'll bump her along from one grade to the next, while ignoring her anxiety, her disintegrating home, the bullies that wait for her in school corridors. Just as long as she passes, she's ok.
ramus
The tree has gone wild, stabbing its branches into the shingles as if it wants to pry the roof off the house.
replaying
Many parents forget what it was like to be a child. Without knowing it, they use parenthood as a way of re-enacting their own childhood. They might look to their children for what their parents never gave them. They might imitate their own parents and relish the power they finally have.
sweetening
She'll try to buy her way into their affection, or at least their sense of obligation.
tenterhooks
Two parents, a bassinet between them, stare at the doctor. They want more than his words. They want to read what his face gives away.
unravel
A game of Clue that starts with poker-faced "mmm-hmms" and ends with shrieking.
I work with words, I depend on them, but I can't find the right ones sometimes, not when I need them badly.
glossing
They're good at pretending. They'll bump her along from one grade to the next, while ignoring her anxiety, her disintegrating home, the bullies that wait for her in school corridors. Just as long as she passes, she's ok.
ramus
The tree has gone wild, stabbing its branches into the shingles as if it wants to pry the roof off the house.
replaying
Many parents forget what it was like to be a child. Without knowing it, they use parenthood as a way of re-enacting their own childhood. They might look to their children for what their parents never gave them. They might imitate their own parents and relish the power they finally have.
sweetening
She'll try to buy her way into their affection, or at least their sense of obligation.
tenterhooks
Two parents, a bassinet between them, stare at the doctor. They want more than his words. They want to read what his face gives away.
unravel
A game of Clue that starts with poker-faced "mmm-hmms" and ends with shrieking.
Friday, January 18, 2013
Week in Seven Words #153 and #154
Week in Seven Words #153
conveyor
The cineplex is shot through with escalators that go nowhere, dumping you into narrow corridors with dirty red carpets that smell of popcorn and detergent.
eavesdroppers
An alley at night - giggles and dinner party voices and quiet windows where people sit alone and listen to their neighbors making merry.
nova
Wine and the illusion of lasting friendship.
previewing
The thirty minutes of previews I sit through show me that two kinds of things will happen in movies this coming year: 1) people will have gun battles on space ships and crash on unfamiliar planets where they'll have gun battles with beasts while possibly being targeted by sinister conspirators in tight body suits 2) people will fight criminals and go on road trips while cracking jokes and suffering repeated bodily injury.
prey
She's stunned that the one good vegetarian restaurant left in the area has been converted to a meat place. She even goes so far as to ask the people who work there if it was worth it - if they're really making more money now.
unsparing
The lake in the park is like the mirror, cold and silver, in the Sylvia Plath poem.
viewpoint
He talks about how a famous rabbi didn't want to refer to hospitals by the usual Hebrew term of "be'it cholim" (which translates to "house of the sick"). He preferred instead to call it "be'it refuah," or "house of healing," because that would be more hopeful and encouraging to people.
--------------
Week in Seven Words #154
competitive
They're experts at getting to the buffet table first and parking themselves there even after they've filled their plates, to ensure that they'll be the first to get seconds too.
concealed
To her, ignorance is a source of deepest shame. She bluffs, doesn't ask questions, and retreats behind nonsensical answers so she can keep hiding what she doesn't know.
impelled
I love how coincidence can seem like finely tuned machinery (maybe it is?), life steered along with delicate pulleys and conveyor belts. I hear the right words on a day I really needed to hear them. I show up unannounced, and arrive right on time.
phalanges
His finger, almost definitely broken, is puffed up with the skin tight like sausage casing. It's hard to look at it, even harder to hear the pained noises he makes when it gets touched.
reserves
Most of the time when I go to this synagogue's services on Saturdays I feel like my batteries are getting recharged. I want to work on carrying that feeling of connection and quiet contemplation into the rest of the week.
rewarded
No matter what comes of it, I'm happy the experience has made us closer than we have been in years.
vexatious
It has everything a customer service phone line should have: long wait times, an annoying automated voice, convoluted instructions, and operators who greet you brightly before hanging up.
conveyor
The cineplex is shot through with escalators that go nowhere, dumping you into narrow corridors with dirty red carpets that smell of popcorn and detergent.
eavesdroppers
An alley at night - giggles and dinner party voices and quiet windows where people sit alone and listen to their neighbors making merry.
nova
Wine and the illusion of lasting friendship.
previewing
The thirty minutes of previews I sit through show me that two kinds of things will happen in movies this coming year: 1) people will have gun battles on space ships and crash on unfamiliar planets where they'll have gun battles with beasts while possibly being targeted by sinister conspirators in tight body suits 2) people will fight criminals and go on road trips while cracking jokes and suffering repeated bodily injury.
prey
She's stunned that the one good vegetarian restaurant left in the area has been converted to a meat place. She even goes so far as to ask the people who work there if it was worth it - if they're really making more money now.
unsparing
The lake in the park is like the mirror, cold and silver, in the Sylvia Plath poem.
viewpoint
He talks about how a famous rabbi didn't want to refer to hospitals by the usual Hebrew term of "be'it cholim" (which translates to "house of the sick"). He preferred instead to call it "be'it refuah," or "house of healing," because that would be more hopeful and encouraging to people.
--------------
Week in Seven Words #154
competitive
They're experts at getting to the buffet table first and parking themselves there even after they've filled their plates, to ensure that they'll be the first to get seconds too.
concealed
To her, ignorance is a source of deepest shame. She bluffs, doesn't ask questions, and retreats behind nonsensical answers so she can keep hiding what she doesn't know.
impelled
I love how coincidence can seem like finely tuned machinery (maybe it is?), life steered along with delicate pulleys and conveyor belts. I hear the right words on a day I really needed to hear them. I show up unannounced, and arrive right on time.
phalanges
His finger, almost definitely broken, is puffed up with the skin tight like sausage casing. It's hard to look at it, even harder to hear the pained noises he makes when it gets touched.
reserves
Most of the time when I go to this synagogue's services on Saturdays I feel like my batteries are getting recharged. I want to work on carrying that feeling of connection and quiet contemplation into the rest of the week.
rewarded
No matter what comes of it, I'm happy the experience has made us closer than we have been in years.
vexatious
It has everything a customer service phone line should have: long wait times, an annoying automated voice, convoluted instructions, and operators who greet you brightly before hanging up.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Week in Seven Words #116
bereavement
It was a shock to hear that my maternal grandpa, Saba Yossef (Grandpa Joseph), passed away. In the past few years his condition had been slowly deteriorating, and he spent the last five months of his life in a hospital, fighting one infection after another (he contracted these infections courtesy of the hospital itself, where powerful bacteria are rampant and patient care is uneven, to say the least). But still, he was a fighter. This is a guy who evaded the Nazis when he was 12. He was a war veteran. He fought off colon cancer a decade ago. We kept expecting him to live somehow.
concoct
He liked to make simple, fresh dishes with few ingredients. Salads and side dishes. Though he wasn't a consummate chef like his wife, he was good at putting together quick meals, and his niche in the kitchen was usually one corner of the countertop where he'd stand chopping and sprinkling things and making use of whatever he'd found in the back of the fridge or the cupboard.
eloquence
He also had a way with words, composing blessings, articles, essays, and poems. He spoke well, loved good conversation and swapping jokes. He was even eloquent in his sleep. He could nod off a little in front of the nightly news and start arguing with the newscaster (and he'd stir awake if you tried to change the channel). Though he had strong opinions he wasn't a preachy or rigid person; he liked to be on good terms with people and help them out. Discussions held in a relaxed atmosphere and helped along by good food and drink were much more his style than shouting matches.
expected
Another memory of him is from a trip I took to Italy when I was sixteen with various family members including him. At one point we were in Siena during The Palio, the famous horse race that turns the city into a madhouse, and we'd split up into smaller groups for the afternoon. A few hours later, when we'd regrouped, we realized he hadn't joined us. No one knew where he was. Everyone else in my family immediately became worried or outright frantic - what if he'd gotten lost or attacked or had sat down and dozed off somewhere? - and off they went searching for him. I stayed behind to keep watch at the spot where we'd all agreed to meet, in case he came along. And I remember standing there calmly, not worried at all, thinking to myself that at any moment he was going to come down that street, smiling and relaxed, and wonder what all the fuss was about. And that's exactly what happened. He suddenly appeared, strolling along the street, his smile a trifle sheepish and apologetic, and immediately set about deflecting criticism, soothing worries, and trying to coax people into laughing. I'm not sure what happened - it's very likely he had sat down for a spell and dozed off - but it didn't matter. No worries.
golden
The last time I saw him functioning well and full of life was in spring 2006, when he visited the US with my grandma. One highlight of the visit was taking a walk with him in Central Park. Before leaving for the walk I was asked to look after him, to make sure he didn't fall (he'd fallen a few times before, from what we came to realize were most likely mini-strokes that had made him 'blank' for a moment). He chuckled at the suggestion that anyone needed to look after him; he was good-humored, independent, and wasn't prone to worrying. We had a very good walk that day. We went at a brisk pace up and down twisty paths in the Ramble, and by the lake too. We talked about many things, from world affairs to guys to places we wanted to see. It was just the two of us for those few hours.
musicality
His laughter was gleeful. He also had a beautiful voice and liked to sing and hum at every good opportunity - at the dinner table or during a game of rummy or as he walked. For the past few years, living in the aftermath of a series of strokes, he could barely talk; his voice, when he could talk, was hoarse and flat. He didn't laugh either. But to the end he loved music, was moved deeply by it.
open-eyed
He found something of interest everywhere he went. To him there weren't boring places. When he visited us in the suburbs for instance he'd go exploring by bus or train or foot and visit places we'd dismissed as uninteresting. When I was a kid I used to think of it as one of his endearing quirks, but in recent years I've come to respect this approach, this attitude of always seeing the world through fresh eyes and not letting yourself become jaded. I liked going places with him, whether it was to listen to a concert or hop on a paddle-boat or just walk through a park, in part because he was very much interested in the world. He was alive to it.
It was a shock to hear that my maternal grandpa, Saba Yossef (Grandpa Joseph), passed away. In the past few years his condition had been slowly deteriorating, and he spent the last five months of his life in a hospital, fighting one infection after another (he contracted these infections courtesy of the hospital itself, where powerful bacteria are rampant and patient care is uneven, to say the least). But still, he was a fighter. This is a guy who evaded the Nazis when he was 12. He was a war veteran. He fought off colon cancer a decade ago. We kept expecting him to live somehow.
concoct
He liked to make simple, fresh dishes with few ingredients. Salads and side dishes. Though he wasn't a consummate chef like his wife, he was good at putting together quick meals, and his niche in the kitchen was usually one corner of the countertop where he'd stand chopping and sprinkling things and making use of whatever he'd found in the back of the fridge or the cupboard.
eloquence
He also had a way with words, composing blessings, articles, essays, and poems. He spoke well, loved good conversation and swapping jokes. He was even eloquent in his sleep. He could nod off a little in front of the nightly news and start arguing with the newscaster (and he'd stir awake if you tried to change the channel). Though he had strong opinions he wasn't a preachy or rigid person; he liked to be on good terms with people and help them out. Discussions held in a relaxed atmosphere and helped along by good food and drink were much more his style than shouting matches.
expected
Another memory of him is from a trip I took to Italy when I was sixteen with various family members including him. At one point we were in Siena during The Palio, the famous horse race that turns the city into a madhouse, and we'd split up into smaller groups for the afternoon. A few hours later, when we'd regrouped, we realized he hadn't joined us. No one knew where he was. Everyone else in my family immediately became worried or outright frantic - what if he'd gotten lost or attacked or had sat down and dozed off somewhere? - and off they went searching for him. I stayed behind to keep watch at the spot where we'd all agreed to meet, in case he came along. And I remember standing there calmly, not worried at all, thinking to myself that at any moment he was going to come down that street, smiling and relaxed, and wonder what all the fuss was about. And that's exactly what happened. He suddenly appeared, strolling along the street, his smile a trifle sheepish and apologetic, and immediately set about deflecting criticism, soothing worries, and trying to coax people into laughing. I'm not sure what happened - it's very likely he had sat down for a spell and dozed off - but it didn't matter. No worries.
golden
The last time I saw him functioning well and full of life was in spring 2006, when he visited the US with my grandma. One highlight of the visit was taking a walk with him in Central Park. Before leaving for the walk I was asked to look after him, to make sure he didn't fall (he'd fallen a few times before, from what we came to realize were most likely mini-strokes that had made him 'blank' for a moment). He chuckled at the suggestion that anyone needed to look after him; he was good-humored, independent, and wasn't prone to worrying. We had a very good walk that day. We went at a brisk pace up and down twisty paths in the Ramble, and by the lake too. We talked about many things, from world affairs to guys to places we wanted to see. It was just the two of us for those few hours.
musicality
His laughter was gleeful. He also had a beautiful voice and liked to sing and hum at every good opportunity - at the dinner table or during a game of rummy or as he walked. For the past few years, living in the aftermath of a series of strokes, he could barely talk; his voice, when he could talk, was hoarse and flat. He didn't laugh either. But to the end he loved music, was moved deeply by it.
open-eyed
He found something of interest everywhere he went. To him there weren't boring places. When he visited us in the suburbs for instance he'd go exploring by bus or train or foot and visit places we'd dismissed as uninteresting. When I was a kid I used to think of it as one of his endearing quirks, but in recent years I've come to respect this approach, this attitude of always seeing the world through fresh eyes and not letting yourself become jaded. I liked going places with him, whether it was to listen to a concert or hop on a paddle-boat or just walk through a park, in part because he was very much interested in the world. He was alive to it.
Friday, March 16, 2012
Week in Seven Words #110
choice
On Purim I discover two new synagogues. One is more formal, ordered, and elegant. The other is smaller and more relaxed, with an atmosphere of scrappiness and inspiration, impassioned talks that spill over their time limit. I'm drawn more to the second one than the first, but they both have interesting programs; I like that they're only several blocks apart, making it easier for me to bounce back and forth between them.
fair
In kindergarten one of the first phrases he picked up was 'no fair.' He uses it in a complaining tone for just about anything that doesn't go his way, sometimes with justification, other times not. I don't know if he understands what 'fair' really means, aside from "things didn't happen the way I thought they should" - but then again many adults use that as the operative definition of 'fair' as well.
flexibility
As she grows older she has a more flexible way of playing with her toys. Instead of sticking to a rigid script, she's more apt to improvise or respond to improvisation, to start up longer conversations and interactions between the characters. It makes an hour of My Little Ponies more entertaining.
hilarity
As I watch them howling with laughter at the dining room table, I smile and remember how as a child just about anything could set me off when I was in a certain mood, and I'd be laughing so hard my stomach would hurt. It still happens these days - this doubled-over, knee-slapping happiness - but much more rarely. (It reminds me of my favorite scene in Mary Poppins: the tea party on the ceiling and that wonderful song, "I Love to Laugh.")
pathogenic
When people need to stay in a hospital they're fighting not only the original illness or condition that landed them there; in too many cases they're also battling medical incompetence and strains of bacteria resistant to antibiotics.
smooch
The day has a warm and expansive personality, greeting me with a kiss to the cheek as I step out the door.
terminology
In the middle of a Foosball game I can't come up with a word for the spinning bars on which the player figurines are mounted, so I just call them 'shish-kebabs.'
On Purim I discover two new synagogues. One is more formal, ordered, and elegant. The other is smaller and more relaxed, with an atmosphere of scrappiness and inspiration, impassioned talks that spill over their time limit. I'm drawn more to the second one than the first, but they both have interesting programs; I like that they're only several blocks apart, making it easier for me to bounce back and forth between them.
fair
In kindergarten one of the first phrases he picked up was 'no fair.' He uses it in a complaining tone for just about anything that doesn't go his way, sometimes with justification, other times not. I don't know if he understands what 'fair' really means, aside from "things didn't happen the way I thought they should" - but then again many adults use that as the operative definition of 'fair' as well.
flexibility
As she grows older she has a more flexible way of playing with her toys. Instead of sticking to a rigid script, she's more apt to improvise or respond to improvisation, to start up longer conversations and interactions between the characters. It makes an hour of My Little Ponies more entertaining.
hilarity
As I watch them howling with laughter at the dining room table, I smile and remember how as a child just about anything could set me off when I was in a certain mood, and I'd be laughing so hard my stomach would hurt. It still happens these days - this doubled-over, knee-slapping happiness - but much more rarely. (It reminds me of my favorite scene in Mary Poppins: the tea party on the ceiling and that wonderful song, "I Love to Laugh.")
pathogenic
When people need to stay in a hospital they're fighting not only the original illness or condition that landed them there; in too many cases they're also battling medical incompetence and strains of bacteria resistant to antibiotics.
smooch
The day has a warm and expansive personality, greeting me with a kiss to the cheek as I step out the door.
terminology
In the middle of a Foosball game I can't come up with a word for the spinning bars on which the player figurines are mounted, so I just call them 'shish-kebabs.'
Friday, March 2, 2012
Week in Seven Words #108
banality
Online dating has been mostly a bore so far. When you meet people in person you experience them as the complex 3D creatures they are, and not as small photos supplemented with the same descriptions over and over - "intelligent, fun-loving, one-of-a-kind" - like personal ads in a Lake Wobegon newspaper.
fulcrum
Time has to be balanced in your mind so that you don't tip too much into the future or sink too frequently into the past.
indurated
In the night my thoughts are cold black diamonds.
reaching
I talk into the phone, knowing that he's there at the other end even though I can't hear him.
second-rate
Sometimes you look back on your week to find that one of your prominent memories involves a pitched battle with a backed-up toilet. Oh well.
slipping
When I'm feeling low about my writing I think of the words as weak magnets sliding down the front of a fridge.
sussing
At the library I spot a DVD Whisperer. He caresses their spines and speaks to each one - "Should I watch you tonight? Or you?" - then cocks his head and listens for the answer.
Online dating has been mostly a bore so far. When you meet people in person you experience them as the complex 3D creatures they are, and not as small photos supplemented with the same descriptions over and over - "intelligent, fun-loving, one-of-a-kind" - like personal ads in a Lake Wobegon newspaper.
fulcrum
Time has to be balanced in your mind so that you don't tip too much into the future or sink too frequently into the past.
indurated
In the night my thoughts are cold black diamonds.
reaching
I talk into the phone, knowing that he's there at the other end even though I can't hear him.
second-rate
Sometimes you look back on your week to find that one of your prominent memories involves a pitched battle with a backed-up toilet. Oh well.
slipping
When I'm feeling low about my writing I think of the words as weak magnets sliding down the front of a fridge.
sussing
At the library I spot a DVD Whisperer. He caresses their spines and speaks to each one - "Should I watch you tonight? Or you?" - then cocks his head and listens for the answer.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Ten questions
Over at the bookworm blog there are ten questions posed to any reader who wants to answer them.
1. What's your favorite book to film adaptation?
These days, the 1995 version of Persuasion with Amanda Root and Ciaran Hinds, adapted from the Jane Austen novel. (In my thinking here, I'm not including movies that have overshadowed the books they're based on.)
2. What's the last book you read?
Bird by Bird by Ann Lamott. I recommend it, especially if you're struggling, stuck or starting out in writing (come to think of it, when do writers not struggle?). Or read it if you want to laugh; it's both funny and painful. In fact there are many good lessons in it even for people who aren't writers.
3. Describe yourself using just one word.
Wondering.
4. Juice or Soda?
Juice.
5. Do you have any pets?
Not recently. I used to have pet frogs, newts, and fish as a kid. But some people dear to me have just brought a puppy into their home, so I expect I'll be seeing her often and she'll be sort of like a pet to me too. Except I'm not the one paper-training her right now, thankfully.
6. Who is your hero?
At the moment it's Marie Curie: brilliant scientist, innovator, humanitarian, and teacher, and also a wife and mother. She broke ground in many ways, both for humanity as a whole and for women. She was the first scientist to win two Nobel prizes in different disciplines.
7. Give me some blogging advice.
Off the top of my head I can't think of any suggestions; I like your blog as it is. Maybe for people in general - have fun with your blog, instead of seeing it as a ball-and-chain that's dragging you down. If it is, rethink things and change it, or give yourself a break from blogging. It shouldn't bring you misery.
8. When was the last time you laughed out loud?
This morning.
9. If you could travel to any place in the world, where would it be?
I'd like to travel around the US for a few months, do a cross-country trip.
10. If you could meet any author, dead or living, who would it be?
What would you ask them?
George Eliot. I'd want to discuss her books with her, mostly Middlemarch, and hear her thoughts on them.
Edit: Just changed the blog title to reflect the fact that there are ten questions, and that I can in fact count.
1. What's your favorite book to film adaptation?
These days, the 1995 version of Persuasion with Amanda Root and Ciaran Hinds, adapted from the Jane Austen novel. (In my thinking here, I'm not including movies that have overshadowed the books they're based on.)
2. What's the last book you read?
Bird by Bird by Ann Lamott. I recommend it, especially if you're struggling, stuck or starting out in writing (come to think of it, when do writers not struggle?). Or read it if you want to laugh; it's both funny and painful. In fact there are many good lessons in it even for people who aren't writers.
3. Describe yourself using just one word.
Wondering.
4. Juice or Soda?
Juice.
5. Do you have any pets?
Not recently. I used to have pet frogs, newts, and fish as a kid. But some people dear to me have just brought a puppy into their home, so I expect I'll be seeing her often and she'll be sort of like a pet to me too. Except I'm not the one paper-training her right now, thankfully.
6. Who is your hero?
At the moment it's Marie Curie: brilliant scientist, innovator, humanitarian, and teacher, and also a wife and mother. She broke ground in many ways, both for humanity as a whole and for women. She was the first scientist to win two Nobel prizes in different disciplines.
7. Give me some blogging advice.
Off the top of my head I can't think of any suggestions; I like your blog as it is. Maybe for people in general - have fun with your blog, instead of seeing it as a ball-and-chain that's dragging you down. If it is, rethink things and change it, or give yourself a break from blogging. It shouldn't bring you misery.
8. When was the last time you laughed out loud?
This morning.
9. If you could travel to any place in the world, where would it be?
I'd like to travel around the US for a few months, do a cross-country trip.
10. If you could meet any author, dead or living, who would it be?
What would you ask them?
George Eliot. I'd want to discuss her books with her, mostly Middlemarch, and hear her thoughts on them.
Edit: Just changed the blog title to reflect the fact that there are ten questions, and that I can in fact count.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Week in Seven Words #102
carpus
I'm pointed to Clockwords: Prelude, a game where the object is to quickly type words with certain designated letters, so that the letters can be shot at mechanical spiders who are out to steal secrets from your laboratory. As in Scrabble, the letters have different values, and can be further imbued with special powers, like the ability to explode and take out more spiders, who make a pulpy sound when hit. The game is amusing, and carpal-tunnel-syndrome-inducing. Mentally challenging, but a little depressing too (will I waste my words on spiders? Wear out my fingers and wrists for this?).
dreich
Stumping around outside on a cold soggy dreich day where the trees look like stale gray vegetables found in the bottom of a fridge drawer.
laryngitis
Feels like rock and gravel are getting scraped away from my throat so that my voice will eventually find its way out.
mouth-watering
A small lump of warm bread pudding with cinnamon and raisins, dissolving around my fork.
no
As a toddler he hears it all the time - no, don't dismantle the phone; no, don't put your sneakers on the cushions; no, don't wander off with strangers. No.
optimism
One of the first books I'm reading this year is a collection of dystopian short fiction.
rumination
I love how we take the stories apart, studying and discussing them. What's best is when we raise questions the author hadn't consciously asked but wove in while getting to know the characters and living through their struggles.
I'm pointed to Clockwords: Prelude, a game where the object is to quickly type words with certain designated letters, so that the letters can be shot at mechanical spiders who are out to steal secrets from your laboratory. As in Scrabble, the letters have different values, and can be further imbued with special powers, like the ability to explode and take out more spiders, who make a pulpy sound when hit. The game is amusing, and carpal-tunnel-syndrome-inducing. Mentally challenging, but a little depressing too (will I waste my words on spiders? Wear out my fingers and wrists for this?).
dreich
Stumping around outside on a cold soggy dreich day where the trees look like stale gray vegetables found in the bottom of a fridge drawer.
laryngitis
Feels like rock and gravel are getting scraped away from my throat so that my voice will eventually find its way out.
mouth-watering
A small lump of warm bread pudding with cinnamon and raisins, dissolving around my fork.
no
As a toddler he hears it all the time - no, don't dismantle the phone; no, don't put your sneakers on the cushions; no, don't wander off with strangers. No.
optimism
One of the first books I'm reading this year is a collection of dystopian short fiction.
rumination
I love how we take the stories apart, studying and discussing them. What's best is when we raise questions the author hadn't consciously asked but wove in while getting to know the characters and living through their struggles.
Friday, December 9, 2011
Week in Seven Words #96
aa
Thanks to my Scrabble partner I find out that this is a kind of rough basaltic lava. It's also a great way to get rid of superfluous vowels and fit words into tight corners of the board.
flavor
It's a small cozy café with pizza, lasagna, salads and soups, and only a handful of tables. What makes the place itself special is one of the people who works there. He flirts and jokes, and in the middle of our meal walks up to us and shares a tale about a carpenter who reunites a pair of estranged brothers by building a bridge over the river that separates their properties.
priorities
I'm heading down the street on wobbly legs. Clearly I need to lie down. But first, a stop at the library.
residuum
Recently this stretch of sidewalk had a leafy golden roof, grand and bright like a corridor in an Oriental palace. Now it looks gutted, the leaves gone and the branches like brittle kindling.
smarting
As I approach the river the wind rakes through me, and even the buildings shiver.
sprightly
I bring Fantasia with me and watch them laugh at the dancing hippos and the fairies spreading rime and dewdrops on pliant leaves.
trepidation
With every phone call I feel a spike of tension. I don't know what the news will be on the other end. I can only pray for the best.
Thanks to my Scrabble partner I find out that this is a kind of rough basaltic lava. It's also a great way to get rid of superfluous vowels and fit words into tight corners of the board.
flavor
It's a small cozy café with pizza, lasagna, salads and soups, and only a handful of tables. What makes the place itself special is one of the people who works there. He flirts and jokes, and in the middle of our meal walks up to us and shares a tale about a carpenter who reunites a pair of estranged brothers by building a bridge over the river that separates their properties.
priorities
I'm heading down the street on wobbly legs. Clearly I need to lie down. But first, a stop at the library.
residuum
Recently this stretch of sidewalk had a leafy golden roof, grand and bright like a corridor in an Oriental palace. Now it looks gutted, the leaves gone and the branches like brittle kindling.
smarting
As I approach the river the wind rakes through me, and even the buildings shiver.
sprightly
I bring Fantasia with me and watch them laugh at the dancing hippos and the fairies spreading rime and dewdrops on pliant leaves.
trepidation
With every phone call I feel a spike of tension. I don't know what the news will be on the other end. I can only pray for the best.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Week in Seven Words #84
charades
I'm a spider, a rabbit, and a table. When I'm done being a table, another player gives me pointers on how to be an even better one. It's more difficult to transmit the idea of table-ness than I'd thought.
horticulture
The community garden is tucked between old apartment buildings, the greenery running up the walls, the flowers sleepy in the odd patches of sunlight, people drifting around with rakes and watering cans, tending to the plants and to their own well-being.
kindred
A time to catch up with loved ones - blasting songs from the 50s on the car radio and singing along with unbearable falsettos; curling up on a dark curving sofa to chat and puzzle over a movie; talking behind closed doors with someone who has such faith in me it's a little scary, a relief but also nerve-wracking; stopping and listening as little ones show me things: drawings, toys, costumes and games, letters of the alphabet written with care.
stopover
Places to sit: A bench in a cathedral garden where the grass runs wild and a sculpture of an angel flanked by sun and moon rears up beyond the fence; the front steps of the cathedral, overlooking Amsterdam Avenue, where I plonk down to check on a developing pinky toe blister; the front steps of an art museum overrun with people and hopeful pigeons.
sweetener
Swirls of birthday cake flavored frozen yogurt topped with tiny chocolate-raspberry truffles. I scrape my spoon inside the paper cup to catch the last drops as I stroll down 81st street to the museum.
unmoored
I'm a rowboat on an ocean.
vocables
The game Smartmouth gives you two letters and requires you to quickly come up with a word that begins with the first letter and ends on the second; the way we're playing, the word must be at least four letters long. On Y-B we're all stumped. On E-K we're also stumped until she strolls up, glances at the letter tiles and says "Embark", after which she listens to our groans of 20/20 hindsight and strolls away. Next comes Hangman, where we try to stump the older children with 'yak', 'chrysalis', and 'unfashionably', but they're wise to our use of unusual letters and words and do well in figuring things out.
I'm a spider, a rabbit, and a table. When I'm done being a table, another player gives me pointers on how to be an even better one. It's more difficult to transmit the idea of table-ness than I'd thought.
horticulture
The community garden is tucked between old apartment buildings, the greenery running up the walls, the flowers sleepy in the odd patches of sunlight, people drifting around with rakes and watering cans, tending to the plants and to their own well-being.
kindred
A time to catch up with loved ones - blasting songs from the 50s on the car radio and singing along with unbearable falsettos; curling up on a dark curving sofa to chat and puzzle over a movie; talking behind closed doors with someone who has such faith in me it's a little scary, a relief but also nerve-wracking; stopping and listening as little ones show me things: drawings, toys, costumes and games, letters of the alphabet written with care.
stopover
Places to sit: A bench in a cathedral garden where the grass runs wild and a sculpture of an angel flanked by sun and moon rears up beyond the fence; the front steps of the cathedral, overlooking Amsterdam Avenue, where I plonk down to check on a developing pinky toe blister; the front steps of an art museum overrun with people and hopeful pigeons.
sweetener
Swirls of birthday cake flavored frozen yogurt topped with tiny chocolate-raspberry truffles. I scrape my spoon inside the paper cup to catch the last drops as I stroll down 81st street to the museum.
unmoored
I'm a rowboat on an ocean.
vocables
The game Smartmouth gives you two letters and requires you to quickly come up with a word that begins with the first letter and ends on the second; the way we're playing, the word must be at least four letters long. On Y-B we're all stumped. On E-K we're also stumped until she strolls up, glances at the letter tiles and says "Embark", after which she listens to our groans of 20/20 hindsight and strolls away. Next comes Hangman, where we try to stump the older children with 'yak', 'chrysalis', and 'unfashionably', but they're wise to our use of unusual letters and words and do well in figuring things out.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Week in Seven Words #69
circumstances
The same sentence can mean a number of different things depending on the context in which it's uttered, the way it's uttered, who utters it, and who's listening. And from a very young age we grapple with all these sources of information - the words themselves, the words in a web of context. Day-to-day, without thinking about it, we perform these mental feats.
inattention
When the brain is a pool float, bobbing gently on light blue chlorinated waters.
knotted
At the wedding, two guests tie a bunch of cloth napkins into a makeshift rope and start twirling it round and round as a jumprope for the bride. She holds onto the skirt of her gown and jumps, smiling and laughing. Just as she starts to get tired her mother-in-law and then one of her sisters-in-law bounce in, and they hold out for a little while to cheers and shouts of encouragement.
motoring
The drive, late on a Sunday afternoon, is a surprising treat. Quiet suburban neighborhoods with deep green lawns give way to gas stations and highways.
proprietary
To help them prepare for their upcoming visit I send them information about what sites to visit, which neighborhoods to walk through (and which to avoid), and how they can best get around. I'm happy about their visit and also have a proprietary feeling towards the city where I live. I don't always think of this city as home, but in moments like these I feel it's mine.
smores
At the dessert reception a table with marshmallows, melting chocolate, and graham crackers. Guests in formal attire lick their fingers.
zest
Orange creamsicles at the end of a long hot day.
The same sentence can mean a number of different things depending on the context in which it's uttered, the way it's uttered, who utters it, and who's listening. And from a very young age we grapple with all these sources of information - the words themselves, the words in a web of context. Day-to-day, without thinking about it, we perform these mental feats.
inattention
When the brain is a pool float, bobbing gently on light blue chlorinated waters.
knotted
At the wedding, two guests tie a bunch of cloth napkins into a makeshift rope and start twirling it round and round as a jumprope for the bride. She holds onto the skirt of her gown and jumps, smiling and laughing. Just as she starts to get tired her mother-in-law and then one of her sisters-in-law bounce in, and they hold out for a little while to cheers and shouts of encouragement.
motoring
The drive, late on a Sunday afternoon, is a surprising treat. Quiet suburban neighborhoods with deep green lawns give way to gas stations and highways.
proprietary
To help them prepare for their upcoming visit I send them information about what sites to visit, which neighborhoods to walk through (and which to avoid), and how they can best get around. I'm happy about their visit and also have a proprietary feeling towards the city where I live. I don't always think of this city as home, but in moments like these I feel it's mine.
smores
At the dessert reception a table with marshmallows, melting chocolate, and graham crackers. Guests in formal attire lick their fingers.
zest
Orange creamsicles at the end of a long hot day.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
I've guest-blogged today
I've written a post on my "passion for the possibility of words" over at the blog, Come Sit By My Fire. The post also includes a few of my photos.
Relyn, who runs that wonderful blog, has been hosting guest-bloggers this month and inviting them to write about their passions in life (I thank her for inviting me too). It's a great blog to visit generally - she posts good poetry that she finds, shares her beautiful photographs, discusses family, teaching, art (a range of topics), and writes about living life creatively, passionately, with all your heart and soul.
Relyn, who runs that wonderful blog, has been hosting guest-bloggers this month and inviting them to write about their passions in life (I thank her for inviting me too). It's a great blog to visit generally - she posts good poetry that she finds, shares her beautiful photographs, discusses family, teaching, art (a range of topics), and writes about living life creatively, passionately, with all your heart and soul.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Week in Seven Words #57
galvanic
Jerked out of sleep early morning by the thought of how much I need to get done in less than two months.
mirrored
Reflecting on someone else's behavior I suddenly get insights into my own.
tweaking
Her teasing has enough truth, humor and kindness that I dissolve in laughter.
twinkling
The rain twinkles in deep black puddles; the raindrops hit the water in starbursts.
utter
Each word is a pearl or a drop of poison.
wail
A man cries out in grief, in a corridor that's usually full of greetings and loud conversation.
willing
When people tell me their plans their eyes are intense, their words intent; they think that if their description is sufficiently detailed, they'll find themselves in their desired reality, their dreams concrete. For a moment their words allow them to inhabit that reality and step into the shoes of their ideal future self.
Jerked out of sleep early morning by the thought of how much I need to get done in less than two months.
mirrored
Reflecting on someone else's behavior I suddenly get insights into my own.
tweaking
Her teasing has enough truth, humor and kindness that I dissolve in laughter.
twinkling
The rain twinkles in deep black puddles; the raindrops hit the water in starbursts.
utter
Each word is a pearl or a drop of poison.
wail
A man cries out in grief, in a corridor that's usually full of greetings and loud conversation.
willing
When people tell me their plans their eyes are intense, their words intent; they think that if their description is sufficiently detailed, they'll find themselves in their desired reality, their dreams concrete. For a moment their words allow them to inhabit that reality and step into the shoes of their ideal future self.
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.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Week in Seven Words #25
blackout
All at once the lights wink out, the fan holds its breath, the fridge gives a small sigh and is silent; everything has fallen into a dark hush. Though I can narrow down the location of my flashlight to a certain portion of the room, I can't actually see where it is, and unfortunately the flashlight isn't a glow-in-the-dark model. I wind up using the weak light from my laptop as a flashlight to find the actual flashlight. Once the flashlight is in hand, I divert myself for several moments by making its light race around the walls, before remembering that I am in fact a responsible adult and should venture out and see what's going on in the building.
lamentations
On the evening of Tisha B'Av - a day marked by mourning, destruction, and exile - we sit on the floor and read the Book of Lamentations. At one point I think to myself that one of the worst things you can wish on someone is the inability to repent of anything and change for the better.
nutriment
We break the fasting in the second floor library. I slowly put together my bagel, cream cheese, lox, and tomato combo, savoring it, grateful that we have food, that we're all blessed with plenty here and can sit around now chatting. We fasted out of mourning, out of choice, obligation, commitment, and feeling; no dire circumstances threatened us with actual starvation - something not to be taken for granted.
pang
For a moment I'm so moved by his question and the tone in which it's spoken that I can't speak. Then I find my voice again and assure him that I plan to visit soon, in a few weeks - I promise.
skipping
I'm not sure at what age skipping becomes an unacceptable way to get from Point A to Point B; I start thinking about this after watching a four year old decide that the best way to go down a long hallway is to skip. And then I wonder if we stop skipping not only because it becomes socially unacceptable, but also because our impulse to skip just shrivels up as we age, so we can no longer do it lightly and spontaneously; it instead becomes self-conscious and self-mocking.
snippets
On the computer I prune out short segments of speech - pronouns like 'it' and 'him' - and find out firsthand that in isolation they often sound like an indistinct buzz. They become distinct and recognizable only when they're part of the larger speech stream; otherwise they're like stray droplets that evaporate quickly.
topography
The topography of tiredness. From the start of the dinner to about an hour and a half into it, my energy and alertness slips downhill into a trough. Then a long stretch of good conversation perks me up again, until at midnight I'm at a peak, content and wide awake, and thinking things over rather than sinking comfortably into sleep.
All at once the lights wink out, the fan holds its breath, the fridge gives a small sigh and is silent; everything has fallen into a dark hush. Though I can narrow down the location of my flashlight to a certain portion of the room, I can't actually see where it is, and unfortunately the flashlight isn't a glow-in-the-dark model. I wind up using the weak light from my laptop as a flashlight to find the actual flashlight. Once the flashlight is in hand, I divert myself for several moments by making its light race around the walls, before remembering that I am in fact a responsible adult and should venture out and see what's going on in the building.
lamentations
On the evening of Tisha B'Av - a day marked by mourning, destruction, and exile - we sit on the floor and read the Book of Lamentations. At one point I think to myself that one of the worst things you can wish on someone is the inability to repent of anything and change for the better.
nutriment
We break the fasting in the second floor library. I slowly put together my bagel, cream cheese, lox, and tomato combo, savoring it, grateful that we have food, that we're all blessed with plenty here and can sit around now chatting. We fasted out of mourning, out of choice, obligation, commitment, and feeling; no dire circumstances threatened us with actual starvation - something not to be taken for granted.
pang
For a moment I'm so moved by his question and the tone in which it's spoken that I can't speak. Then I find my voice again and assure him that I plan to visit soon, in a few weeks - I promise.
skipping
I'm not sure at what age skipping becomes an unacceptable way to get from Point A to Point B; I start thinking about this after watching a four year old decide that the best way to go down a long hallway is to skip. And then I wonder if we stop skipping not only because it becomes socially unacceptable, but also because our impulse to skip just shrivels up as we age, so we can no longer do it lightly and spontaneously; it instead becomes self-conscious and self-mocking.
snippets
On the computer I prune out short segments of speech - pronouns like 'it' and 'him' - and find out firsthand that in isolation they often sound like an indistinct buzz. They become distinct and recognizable only when they're part of the larger speech stream; otherwise they're like stray droplets that evaporate quickly.
topography
The topography of tiredness. From the start of the dinner to about an hour and a half into it, my energy and alertness slips downhill into a trough. Then a long stretch of good conversation perks me up again, until at midnight I'm at a peak, content and wide awake, and thinking things over rather than sinking comfortably into sleep.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Week in Seven Words #23
deliquesce
Ice cream, half-scooped and half-puddled, seeps through the mouth and dissolves on the tongue. Heat, sweat and sweetness on a summer afternoon.
dipping
The flowers dip their long green fronds in the water, the way people might sit at the edge of a swimming pool and paddle their feet.
flux
Watching them play it's difficult to predict when they'll get along peaceably and when they'll slip into mischievous pestering or earnest scuffles. Another possibility is that they'll drift to different parts of the room and focus on individual pursuits involving characters, shoes, blocks, blankets, keyboards and cars.
jarred
Whole days, derailed. A sick gnawing anxiousness and pain.
molten
The fountain is full of cool fire. Plashing white plumes surge out of its basin, and the sun is shattered on its waters.
sorry
Sometimes he invests the word with just a little too much power; he thinks that any bit of mischief or inflicted hurt will be instantaneously undone with the utterance of an earnest 'sorry'.
stripes
Flags ripple against a light blue sky.
Ice cream, half-scooped and half-puddled, seeps through the mouth and dissolves on the tongue. Heat, sweat and sweetness on a summer afternoon.
dipping
The flowers dip their long green fronds in the water, the way people might sit at the edge of a swimming pool and paddle their feet.
flux
Watching them play it's difficult to predict when they'll get along peaceably and when they'll slip into mischievous pestering or earnest scuffles. Another possibility is that they'll drift to different parts of the room and focus on individual pursuits involving characters, shoes, blocks, blankets, keyboards and cars.
jarred
Whole days, derailed. A sick gnawing anxiousness and pain.
molten
The fountain is full of cool fire. Plashing white plumes surge out of its basin, and the sun is shattered on its waters.
sorry
Sometimes he invests the word with just a little too much power; he thinks that any bit of mischief or inflicted hurt will be instantaneously undone with the utterance of an earnest 'sorry'.
stripes
Flags ripple against a light blue sky.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Blog-world appreciation
This is an exciting find:
At Crystal Calliope, another version of a week in seven words (and some kind words about my blog - thanks!). I especially like her characterization of "words" and her reflection on "unrest".
Also a few weeks ago I received a "Sunshine Award" from a writer whose blog, Platypuss-in-Boots, I recommend you all visit. There's nothing quite like it - it's imaginative, thought-provoking, funny, and full of wonder (and wonderful writing).
At Crystal Calliope, another version of a week in seven words (and some kind words about my blog - thanks!). I especially like her characterization of "words" and her reflection on "unrest".
Also a few weeks ago I received a "Sunshine Award" from a writer whose blog, Platypuss-in-Boots, I recommend you all visit. There's nothing quite like it - it's imaginative, thought-provoking, funny, and full of wonder (and wonderful writing).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)