flare (v.) 1540s, “spread out” (hair), of unknown origin, perhaps from Scandinavian or from Dutch vlederen. Meaning “shine out with a sudden light” is from 1630s …
(It’s been a while since I was here. Things I had to tend to for work and at home, and for a class I teach at a homeschool co-op on the Constitution and Current Events. Beside all that, I’ve been fighting a sinus something or other, laryngitis, and of course my ever-present back issues. It hasn’t been a terribly happy break, but I’m glad to say I think things are slowly going back to normal.)
I thought about this shampoo commercial when I read the first definition of flare:
Wouldn’t it be nice if just using some shampoo would give us all that kind of hair? Nope. Won’t happen. You’re born with it, or you’re not. You learn to make the best of what you have 🙂
early 17th century: from Latin immers- ‘dipped into’, from the verb immergere, from in- ‘in’ + mergere ‘to dip’.
Immersion can be very, very good or very, very bad.
When I first learned to swim, I also learned to watch where certain other people were in the pool. If I couldn’t see them, I hightailed it to the side of the pool and watched. At least that way I had something to hold on to that would keep me from being held under the water until I was terrified.
If you really think it’s fun to dunk someone, then go ahead and help yourself, but don’t hold anyone under the water. It isn’t nice. It isn’t fun for the one who is drowning. And it makes you a bully.
On the other hand, being immersed in something you love is a pure delight.
When I first learned the art of quilting, it was all I wanted to do. I remember feeling the same way about other needle arts. Knitting is probably my favorite. There was a time when I always had something in process. Not so much now, because of arthritic pain in hands, wrists, elbows and shoulders. Life changes, whether you want it to or not.
So I’m immersed in books. I guess I always have been, really, but now more than ever.
Immerse yourself in something you love, whether that is a person, people, family, work, hobby, exercise, etc. But be careful, because anything can be taken to an unhealthy extreme.
Bobby loved his new ride. The old man had finally come through.
He spent time getting ready for his conquest.
Kathy had her doubts. Bobby was kind of shallow. Stuck on himself. But she was ready.
“Bobby, there’s nothing but woods out here. Turn around.”
Grinning, he parked, threw his arm over her shoulders, and leaned in for a kiss.
Her knee found its mark. The heel of her right hand slammed his chin up: her elbow wrecked his gut. Panting and groaning, he didn’t feel so amorous.
Kathy glared. “Now take me home, you creep!”
Note: My first draft was 187 words. It was like bleeding to cut 87 words out. One of these days I’m going to have to come back to this and develop it. The characters I drew in the first draft were so much fun:) But here it is,
Old English thrīe (masculine), thrīo, thrēo (feminine), of Germanic origin; related to Dutch drie and German drei, from an Indo-European root shared by Latin tres and Greek treis .
“So, how many children do you have, dear?” asked the older woman who shared the park bench with Rose.
“Three,” answered Rose, unsuspecting.
“THREE? What, you don’t know how to keep from getting pregnant?” The look on the woman’s face was disdainful.
“I’d be glad to refer you to a doctor who can help you. I mean, THREE children! I just don’t understand these people today who have such big families. Have they no self-control, or concern for the environment and our shrinking resources? Frankly, I’d be embarrassed if I were you!”
Rose stood, quietly gathering her things and calling her other two children to get ready to go home. Smiling, she looked up at her critic.
“Ma’am, I’m not embarrassed at all. We love our children dearly, and we’re hoping to have at least one more. I’m sorry that you disapprove. But, frankly, I’d be embarrassed if I were you.
I created a mess for myself this morning. Too late, I realized I’d typed my post for my writing blog onto my Bible study blog instead. It was already published, and I couldn’t just delete it without having to rewrite it. So, I figured I’d just cut/paste, right?
Wrong. Don’t try to do that, at least not the way I did. I highlighted the post, and pasted it in a new tab for my writing blog.
Which completely changed the format, omitted the picture, and changed the font; it put everything all into one paragraph.
Took me some time and effort to make the necessary changes, but now the whole piece shows up in my “recently posted” widget and also in the “related” and “previous” headings at the bottom of the blog. If anyone knows how to get rid of that mess, I’d surely appreciate it if you’d share with me:)
Granddad slung his game leg around the cantle, sitting sideways on his horse. He glanced over at his grandson, riding on his own pony. The boy’s eyes were as big as the full moon at harvest. They had stopped to rest, and drink from their canteens.
“For real, Granddad? People walked through them folded hills?”
“Really, Son. We had a guide who’d been through before. We loaded up on water and jerky .”
“Wow! I guess you was real brave!”
“Nope. We just knew the Indians was superstitious about them white hills, and wouldn’t foller us through ’em.”