A Shocking Array

Shock

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Electric shock.  A shock of surprise. A shocking development. Shocking news. Going into shock.  A shock of blond hair.  Shock and awe.

shock

Say the word shock ten times, fast, and you’ll be laughing.

You can shock someone with unexpected news, making them very upset or very elated.

Sometimes  I have felt the shock of a mild earthquake.  Since I grew up in the midwest, where earthquakes hardly ever happen, I had no idea what was going on when I experienced my first one in Portland, Oregon, when I was 12 or 13.  Yeah, that was a bit shocking.

You can turn white from shock, as the blood drains from your face.  Why doesn’t the blood drain from your feet, upward?  I guess that wouldn’t be draining, which carries the sense of down, not up. Still.

My kids used to think it was fun to slide across the carpet in the winter and then touch each other, creating a spark of shock.

Of course, falling in love can create a spark of shock, too, but of a totally different nature.

I think I’ve about worn out my options, so I’ll stop.

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A Brown Study

Study

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I went to the study to study my study guide.  My studied concentration did nothing to clarify the information, and I fell into a brown study as I studied  material that made no sense to me.

So I studied on the idea of a cup of tea and the book I’m reading, and it seemed like a much better idea.

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a brown study:  discouragement

A brown study.  What an interesting phrase.  Here’s a little description:

Brown does refer to the colour, but it seems that in the late medieval period it could also mean no more than dark or gloomy and it was then transferred figuratively to the mental state. A study at that time could be a state of reverie or abstraction, a sense of the word that is long since obsolete.

And that’s all I have this morning.

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Ways to be Static

Static

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Opposite of dynamic. To be dynamic is to move and grow, so be static is to stay still, to remain  unmoving. 1

Static, unmoving–but scary as all get-out.

 

Static is also what we get in our hair and clothing in the cold, dry winter air.  We used to enjoy the way our oldest son’s hair would stand straight up when he was a toddler, moving whichever way we moved out hands just above his head.  And I, for one, was very thankful to the folks who created the spray that cuts down on static cling. staticelectr

 

Static is also what you hear when there’s a poor radio or telephone connection.

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It can also mean ‘angry or critical talk or behavior.” Just don’t give me any static.

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Aromas I Love

Evoke

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To bring or recall to the conscious mind.

I’ve slowly and almost completely lost my sense of smell. Too many sinus infections, nasal sprays, antibiotics, I guess.  So for me, it has to be the memory of aromas that I loved. Those memories are evocative, and almost always in a positive way.

For instance, it’s raining right now. When I was a little girl in Minneapolis, I loved the smell of rain on the hot concrete of the street and the sidewalks in the summer. It was unique, a smell I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed since then in exactly the same way. icoportf

I also loved the smell of rain when we lived in a southern Minnesota farm town when I was in high school.  The rich, earthy smell of the fields was intensified by the rain, which was always a welcome reprieve from the humid heat of August.

Winter rain was a new experience for me in both Portland, Oregon when we moved there from Minnesota, and again here in southeastern Pennsylvania.  I’ll never forget that it rained on Christmas Day the first year we were here, in 1974.  I couldn’t believe it. I had grown up in White Christmas Land, and rain was just not okay.

Other smells I’ve loved and now miss:  bread baking, roasting turkey, ham, or beef; freshly-cut grass; expensive perfume; roses; baby powder and shampoo; sheets brought fresh from the clothesline and put on the bed. Coffee.  So many other things.

I can still smell some things if I get them close enough to my nose.  Lavender, for one.  I love that smell. My daughter keeps me supplied with  lavender hand soap and goat milk soap.  I know  a lot of people thinks it’s an old-fashioned smell, but then so many of the things I’ve listed are also old-fashioned, I guess.

The memories all these things evoke are warm, wonderful, and welcome.  I miss my sense of smell.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/evoke

 

Meanings and Memories

Carve

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Carve a turkey. Carve one’s initials on a tree. Rock carvings.  Wood carvings.  Power saw wood carving.

Carving out a path.  A river carves a path in many different directions.

Carving out a peace treaty.  Carving a friendship.  Soap carving.  Ice carvings. Decorative carving on furniture or any other wood in the house.

I remember the beautiful wood in a house we rented when I was in 3-4 grade. There was a built-in buffet, with a mirror, posts on the sides, and drawers for storing linens and so forth.

Image result for built-in carved wood buffet in an old house

Not exactly like ours, but it has the same feel.

The dining room table had wonderful carved feet, just about the only things I enjoyed dusting.  I would crawl under there and go to all sorts of places in my imagination while I wiped the dust away.

Image result for old-fashioned circular wooden dining  table with carved feet

Again, not exactly the same, but similar. And there were extenders that made it an oval table when we had lots of company.

We had what we called an end table beside our sofa.  Looking back, I’m wondering if it was a pie crust table. It was pretty, with carving along the edges and in the wedges of the table, as well as on the pedestal.

Well, looking at the pictures on Google images, I don’t think it was a pie crust table.  But I did find one that is similar to a table in my office at work. It has that harp in the pedestal, a very pretty piece.

Image result for pie crust table

Wood is so beautiful, and the artisans who carve it are amazing to me. So is the English language, actually. So many uses for just one little word.  Amazing.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/carve/

Weather and Intelligence

Brilliant

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It’s a brilliant day here in my corner of Pennsylvania.

Image result for brilliant winter day in southeastern PA

We had a little snow yesterday, not enough to matter, and the sky was cloudy all day.  But today things have cleared, the sky is that wonderful winter blue, and best of all?  It’s going to get up to 40º above zero!  Yay!  It will feel like spring!

On a totally different plane, today Google is honoring Har Gobind Khorana, the man who figured out all about our DNA.  That’s a different kind of brilliance.  I’ve always wished I had a science/math mind, but I just don’t.  Give me a string of words to remember 20 minutes later, and I’ll have them all.  Give me a phone number and it leaks out the opposite ear just about as soon as it goes into the other.

I can’t do math in my head unless it’s only three or four figures, like 36 plus 43.  I have to think about it, but I can do it.

So I have great admiration for people like Khorana, who can hold all the intricacies of science in their brains and connect them all together. I respect that, and they have contributed immense amounts of valuable information to our world.

You know what, though?  I wish all the math/science people had as much respect for MY kind of contributions as I do for theirs.  Language, grammar, literature, poetry, history, the study of the human mind (non-scientific–more on the philosophical plane) are also invaluable contributions.

Of course, not all the science/math people look askance at  the rest of us.  In fact, many of them also excel in musical pursuits, just for example.  Think what a drab world it would be without the mathematics of music, or of art.

But right now I need to go to work and struggle with the intricacies of the human thinking process, so off I go.

I hope you all have a BRILLIANT day 🙂

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/brilliant/

Moral Depravity

Forlorn

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I don’t always look up the etymology of the daily word, but I’m glad I did today.  As with thousands of other words in English, this one as come down from other countries, and developed other meanings than the original:

 

“Old English forloren ‘depraved, morally abandoned,’ past participle of forlēosan ‘lose,’ of Germanic origin; related to Dutch verliezen and German verlieren, and ultimately to for- and lose. Sense 1 dates from the 16th century.”

I’m reading a book right now that has to do with Nazi Germany during WWII. I believe that Hitler’s Nazis were indeed “depraved and morally abandoned.”  Anyone who can approve of, promote, and participate in the brutalities of that time  had to have been completely depraved and morally abandoned.

There are hundreds of photos worse than this one, proof that people were indeed imprisoned, starved, and often tortured and killed for no other reason than their ethnicity or the “unhealthy” beliefs that ran against the Nazi regime.  I’ll never understand how anyone can claim that the Holocaust never really happened.

It’s still happening today.  Evil exists. We need to understand that. Sometimes it is perpetrated in the name of some god who demands it.  NOT my God!

Depravity and moral abandonment. it’s a terrible evil that can overtake the nation, any nation, if we sit back and do nothing.

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Spring is Coming

Viable

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Capable of succeeding; capable of germinating; capable of life.

Right now?  Surviving the present winter snowstorm doesn’t seem too viable.  I have to leave in about an hour, unless my clients cancel because of the snow.  It wouldn’t upset me at all if they did. We weren’t supposed to get much more than a light dusting, but it seems we’re going above and beyond.

Taking another direction completely,  the viability of life always amazes me.  Over the winter, the ground freezes; on a day like today, everything is just a white blur. The trees (not the pines, the other ones-deciduous?)  have bare branches sticking up like dead fingers beseeching the sun to warm them up.

If you watch in our back yard, you will be treated to the sudden streak of red when one of our cardinals decided to visit a different tree; or you will see the blue of a raucous jay as he asserts himself over the whole world.

There’s not much squirrel activity.  They’re smart enough to stay tucked up together in their own trees in weather like this.

The sky is white. The ground is white. The street is black, so either the salt trucks have been out or it’s not cold enough for the snow to compete with the traffic.

Image result for winter/spring contrast pictures

But in the spring!  Oh, how I love spring here in my corner of PA. That’s when all those empty, black branches pop into bud and then produce leaves and flowers to take your breath away.  The ground allows the green blades of tulips to cut their way through, and daffodils delight one’s eyes and heart.  Color returns.  Rain soaks the ground, making life viable for everything that grows.

So we endure winter, and even find reasons to be thankful for it. The biggest thing I’m thankful for about winter is that it will be over!

So endure the cold, enjoy the snow, be thankful for the knowledge that this too shall pass.

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It’s COLD!

Treat

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Right now?  The best treat I can think of would be to crawl back into my soft, warm bed and hibernate until this cold snap goes away.

My stars.  I grew up in a much colder  climate than this, where sub-zero temps were normal and expected.  I don’t like it any more.  I think it may have gone down to zero last night, and the whole house feels cold.

 

Image result for sub-zero temps cartoons

The living room is warm because that’s where our oil-burning stove resides. The rest of our little rancher is shivering.

So Terry plugged in a space heater in my room so my skin wouldn’t freeze and break off while I got dressed.  I was working on my hair in the bathroom, and my blow-dryer apparently is on the same circuit as the heater in the bedroom. Zap.  No blow-dryer, no heater, no lights.  Sigh.

Terry had gone back to bed and I didn’t want to wake him. But–my hero to the rescue–he got up on his own and plodded down to the breaker box in the basement to restore the power.  Yes, yes, I could have done it myself.  I know how.  But for some reason he considers that task to be his, so I don’t mess with it unless he’s not home. He showed me how to do it, but he doesn’t like to let me do it.  Go figure.

Anyway, I know it’s a lot worse in the Midwest where I grew up, but right now it just feels as cold to me as -40 used to feel when we lived in central Minnesota.

Brrrrrr.

 

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An Old Song

Reservation

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I always think of the old song Sentimental Journey.  You know, “Got my bags, I’ve got my reservation. …”

It was popular before I was born, a big song during WWII.  I’ve always been drawn to that music, maybe because it was the music my parents knew and loved.  I got them a whole set of 1940’s music on LP’s many years ago, all the music of their era.  I wish I knew where that set went, now that they’re both in heaven. I sure would love to have it. The Big Band era, and singers who actually sang and didn’t yell, scream, and screw up their faces as if they were in pain.

Why do singers do that?

Image result for singer with face all screwed up like he's in pain

Poor guy looks like he just sat on a tack. Or he’s really, really angry at someone.

Anyway,  here’s the song:  Be patient, she actually sings the words partway through the video.

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