Monday, October 23, 2006

All because she asked . . .

. . . and now I won't be able to sleep tonight because the words came tumbling out . . .

creek:
1. What I want to say is that sound my joints make--particularly my knee joints--when I go up and down the stairs.

2a. But really it's that place at the top of the hill behind my Grandpa Rex's house in Randolph just before the run-down old barn and corral, where the grass and willows grew and where we used to spend entire summers tossing down sticks, grass, debris--our innocent and tanned bodies--just to watch them float, or over which we would lay atop the old worn, a-plank-or-two-shy wooden bridge watching our youth float away while the warm summer sun baked the memories into our sweat-silken skin.

2b. Also that place I love up at South Fork Park where I could waste away an entire afternoon without regret while lying by the banks contemplating the soothing sound the water makes as it tumbles across the rocks and over and around itself as if it is both in a hurry to reach someplace wonderful but also quite happy to take its sweet time to get there, determined to enjoy the journey along the way.


orange:
1. (o-rrange) That thing you do with sounds when you can't help but take an ordinary word and try to turn it into something punny.

2a. The color just after yellow and barely before red in every brilliant Utah sunset.

2b. The best flavor I could imagine in the middle of a Utah winter on one of those rare trips to California when the timing is just right and the sweet juice of tree-ripened citrus wakes up my soul with the remembrance of sunshine.


*nauseous:
1. Having a constant need to gnaw on something--crackers, steak, ice, etc.--in hopes of relieving oneself of one's nausea.

2. ~ness: That feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when your kid, your spouse, your best friend--or someone else you love truly, madly, deeply--comes to you with a shaved-off shin, a broken heart, a wayward child, a painful problem for which you know there is no answer, or a confession that will send you into a tailspin of grief and make you want to curl up in a ball and throw up because you know this is something you can't kiss better, put a band-aid over, hug away or fix.


server:
1. You may ask any of the half-my-age computer geeks (whom I love) with whom I work and they will tell you that I (self-referred to as "the village idiot") truly have no idea.

2. What it really is is a another word for woman, daughter, sister, wife, mother, friend. The need to serve is woven into the very fiber of our beings. So ingrained it's indistinguishable from ourselves at the cellular level. I know we, each one of us, will die doing it. We cannot help ourselves. We can only help each other.



I tag the following:
waitingforwednesday
geo
skewedview
b.
(And of course anyone else who wants to play...)

Your words are as follows:

serendipitous

precipitate

wallflower

patina




(* from MW, regarding the great nauseous vs. nauseated debate:
Function: adjective
1 : causing nausea or disgust : NAUSEATING
2 : affected with nausea or disgust
- nau·seous·ly adverb
- nau·seous·ness noun
usage Those who insist that nauseous can properly be used only in sense 1 and that in sense 2 it is an error for nauseated are mistaken. Current evidence shows these facts: nauseous is most frequently used to mean physically affected with nausea, usually after a linking verb such as feel or become; figurative use is quite a bit less frequent. Use of nauseous in sense 1 is much more often figurative than literal, and this use appears to be losing ground to nauseating. Nauseated is used more widely than nauseous in sense 2.)

16 comments:

Rhonda Sloan said...

Love your definition of "server." I wonder if we could isolate that gene and alter it just a bit?

P.S. Tell Johnny I said hello! He's so cute.

Lyle said...

Love your definition of creek. Every childhood should have a memorable creek. Mine runs through Moab.

Melody said...

We called our creek a "ditch" although I don't know why. It was a canal that ran through everyone's back yard who lived on Oak Lane in Provo. This wasn't one of those little troughs for irrigation water. This was a true creek. (If you spent any time on Old Willow, it ran there too.) Big enough to build a damn and float a small child in, small enough that, fortunately, no one drowned. We spent hours during the summer in mid-calf-deep water. . . thanks for reminding me.

And, dear friend, I love your writing. Everything, everytime.

jake roi said...

Ooo goody, I love the word challenges. Look for a post later today. It takes me back to my WOTD entries.

Thanks so much for the invite!

glo said...

You are a cruel selector of words. Good luck to the memers.

dalene said...

Thank you Mel. That means a lot--especially coming from my award-winning poetess friend. (I need to stop equating the number of comments with quality or depth. It would at the very least make it less painful when I shoot out something deeply personal and then feel it's sort of out there floundering on the cyberspace floor.)

How'd your last day go?


glo: I haven't been called cruel for quite some time now. I'm finding it rather delicious. Want to play???

Sister Pottymouth said...

Thank you for the clarification of nauseous/nauseated. I have been enlightened and educated. (But it's still fun to tease people about using the wrong one...)

I wonder why water figures so much into our earliest memories? For my family, it was the irrigation that would flood the north lawn on a regular basis. We would sit on the swings and make the water arc with our toes as we swung through it. I still remember how my feet would feel after running barefoot through the cold water over the grass.

Geo said...

c.w.: Me me me meme!! Okay. You made it so appealing that I want to play too. Thanks for tagging this bloggerette. I love what you wrote, yup.

Melody: I've been building a "damn" myself for several days. Just ask c.w. how I love that word.

c.w.: Maybe I'm just tired and don't get it, but how come Johnny Depp is now a she? And how does her wife, Vanessa Paradis, feel about this? What does this mean for the future of pirating?

dalene said...

Jules: I had no idea either. I always thought they were different (although I had about as much success remembering what to use when as I currently do remembering if I love "lying" by the banks or "laying" by the banks of my favorite creek). Thanks for inviting me to play--I love this game!

Geo: I can't wait to see what you come up with. And what's this about Johnny? It's pretty sad that someone whose job is to search Google all day is working too long and too hard to keep au courant with all the important news.

sue-donym said...

Does the water ditch at Pioneer Park count as my "creek"? I actually played in that as a kid... alot. My daughter could never understand why I wouldn't let her. Hmmm...

Sister Pottymouth said...

"Laying" by the creek brings up all sorts of interesting images. If you're a bird, you'd think of eggs. But if you are a crass-thinking human... Well. We'd just better not go there.

I have to think really hard about the lay/lie thing too. I'm glad I'm not the only English major for whom it's not second nature.

Word Imp said...

Hi there
just found your cool site. i hope you change your mind about a hiatus! You've got lots to offer! If you like word games, you might like mine. Come and visit some time.

Guileless Mom said...

Fun blog! BEAUTIFUL photos of Finland! A couple from our ward just spent the summer in Finland. Sounds like a lovely place to visit.

LuckyRedHen said...

Hiatus, huh? Well, I might be able to sway you to think otherwise... You had tagged "b." with the words game. She played and posted to her blog. Upon reading her post I freak out because she mentions my friend who used to be my landlord (she actually mentioned my friends son but they both have the same name). Anyway, b. was the one who NONE of us in blogland knew personally and she invited herself to come to my jewelry party. She had NO CONNECTION to any of us whatsoever. So we thought. So the friend she mentioned caused me to email her to find out how she knew him. As the story unfolds, we realize that she GREW UP in the house I RENTED (so did Cathy, the jewelry consultant) from the mutual friend. Now, if you never posted your word game challenge to her she wouldn't have posted the friends name and I wouldn't have figured out that she actually IS connected to us and not just a lurker. Please don't leave :o(

luckyzmom said...

Now,I AM just a lurker.A lurker who is fascinated with Compulsive Writers' writing and photos. So I sure hope she doesn't hiatus.

Elizabeth said...

I loved what you had to say about orange. I remember running one morning in Gilbert, AZ in March (I believe). I had gone out at 7:30 or so (already probably 75+ degrees), and running along the road with the smell of oranges filling my nose. It was one of the most lovely running experiences---and that, coupled with fresh squeezed orange juice from my inlaws' tree in the back yard---made it heaven.