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Co-opetition
Co-opetition is an example of portmanteau, defined by the great linguist Humpty Dumpty as a term that has “two meanings packed up into one word.” May they make you chortle (chuckle + snort) if you don’t find them mimsy (miserable + flimsy).
Humpty Dumpty was a good egg, multi-talented and not scramble-brained. He liked word play as much as I do. Splencandidly better than great.
Boomer Humor Taboo
A recently seen cartoon seems 20,000 leagues under, below the belt literally. I can not imagine the scenario, or see-and-saying this to my husband, for whom we built a pool.
What about you, Constant Reader? What tickles your fancy or your funny bone? Jokes about arthritic knees and/or hips? Slips of the lips? Euphemisms?
Life as a Miracle: Arena Rock
The guttural, low-toned chant of “Br-r-u-u-ce!” chilled me as it reverberated the Coliseum. Lar and I stood in front of folding chairs, among others lined endlessly on the grass field to densely emulate chalk lines. The scene was not the Olympics, for these has passed through LA the year prior. It was not USC football.
Life as a Road Trip Miracle
It was a spectacular summer day in Hoosierland, and we were on the fly. Radio rocking our rental car, zooming at 75 mph on the Interstate, slicing Midwestern humidity like a butter knife.
Closet Case
Swapping out clothes - Winter for Summer wares - an annual rite of Spring. A household cleansing of spirit, re-connecting with my wealth of wear via the mundane. As I sheathed and unsheathed the clothes according to their seasons, repurposing plastic cleaner bags to...
Limerick
Limericks are a form of poetry, an affinity I inherited from my dad. I can quickly quip, like he.
‘Tis fitting to speak of this after eating my fill of corned beef and cabbage to celebrate St. Patty’s Day. ‘Tis.
Living Life as a Miracle: My Lazarus Dad
There are few words that can tilt your world faster than “You’re fired.”
Unless it’s “Your dad’s in a coma and not expected to live.”
Two sentences that I heard within an hour in March, 2008.
Reunion
A complimentary reminiscence arrived via email, preceding the mailed invitation to my high school reunion by a few days. Nancy got my email address from STASHES, an additional boon of my book. Bliss-out, Boomer! We had reignited our relationship, beyond pictures of grandkids and travel report one-liners in the obligatory Christmas card. I was enticed into longing, a need to hug and chat with my hsbff.
If You Give a Writer a Pen…
You may recall that I got a new pen for my birthday. If you don’t, you may read about it here The Seven Year Pen
If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, which I feel it is, here’s my penultimate praise:
If you give a writer a pen, she’s going to ask for paper…
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