“Our father invented orbisculate in college to describe when a citrus fruit squirts in your eye, then proceeded to use it so often when we were growing up that we were shocked to discover it wasn’t in the dictionary…”
Jonathan and Hilary Krieger, about their father Neil Krieger
Read the story, use the word and sign the petition!
1 archaic : given to melancholy
2 : marked by bad temper, malevolence, or spite
Merriam Webster
Onomatopoeia is the process of creating a word that phonetically imitates, resembles, or suggests the sound that it describes. Such a word itself is also called an onomatopoeia. Common onomatopoeias include animal noises such as oink, meow, roar, and chirp.
HUMAN VOCAL SOUNDS
Achoo
Chomp
Cough
Hiccup
Hum
SOUNDS MADE BY DEVICES OR OBJECTS
Bang
Boom
Beep
Ching
Clatter
Clink
Crackle
Crash
Creak
Ding dong
Fizz
Flutter
Honk
Kaboom
Knock
Oom-pah
Ping
Plop
Pop
Rumble
Sizzle
Slosh
Snap
Splat
Splash
Squish
Swish
Tap
Thump
Tick
Tick tock
Toot
Vroom
Whirr
Whoosh
Zap
ANIMAL AND BIRD NOISES
Bark
Bleat
Buzz
Chirp
Chirp
Growl
Hiss
Hoot
Howl
Meow
Moo
Purr
Quack
Ribbit
Roar
Screech
Tweet
Woof
I quit my job this week, but I did not give up.
I am so excited to be starting a new job in November (yeah!) but giving notice at my current job had a few landmines for me.
I gave my full notice, but working for the next 2 weeks seemed daunting. As much as my change was driven by a desire to return to L&D was the need to change jobs for my mental health. While it started well, and I learned a lot from becoming a call centre agent, I had never become used to relentless calls (even though that’s the job!) and my tank was empty.
I hesitated to just “quit” as it’s not my style and it seemed disrespectful of an employer who had treated me well. Yet, while I wanted the good reference, I needed to protect my mental health more.
Finding myself in a bit of a quandary, the next morning I chose to simply ask if there was a way I could leave right away with grace. Within minutes I had a response from my supervisor. Of course, no problem, they understood, and they would accept my resignation immediately. I was told I would be paid for the day and could log out.
What a blessing. I am enjoying a much needed break before I start my new gig, and I got there without burning any bridges.
"Rabbit rabbit rabbit" is a superstition found in Britain and North America wherein a person says or repeats the words "rabbit", "rabbits" and/or "white rabbits" aloud upon waking on the first day of a month, to ensure good luck for the rest of it. ππππππππ
Source: courtesy of Sheryl MacKay, host of CBC Radio’s North by Northwest
According to Mirriam-Webster, a grass widow can mean:
- a discarded mistress
- a woman who has had an illegitimate child
- a woman whose husband is temporarily away from her
- a woman divorced or separated from her husband
It feels very archaic... and it is. The first known use was in 1699 (the illegitimate child).
I’ve also seen more modern definitions in which the grass is a metaphor for a golf green, where one’s spouse might disappear to.
Interestingly, I ‘discovered’ it when it was sitting atop a stack of books in a bedroom in a decorating magazine. I liked the room, and became curious about occupant, so pulled out my magnifying glass and copied down the title and author. Bizarre but true.
Her story of selling everything, getting a dog and hiking up in a cabin on the beach in Maine in the winter appealed. *
I was thinking of the book today, on International Women’s Day, and looked to see if it was on Audible, sadly not. Though I probably have a copy around here somewhere ...,
In the process,I discovered that she passed away in 2020. Alice Koller dead at 94 - New York Times
*As a side note, I also enjoyed May Sarton’s Journal of Solitude, penned in a similar setting.
I am all ready for Canada Reads 2021. It was only a week or so ago when I realized that I wanted to read all five books prior to the debates this year ... and I finished the last one last night. I listened, via Audible, and that’s what made it possible (otherwise I’m a slow reader),
Which is my favourite? It’s hard to say, as I enjoyed them all. They were all so different! I could see any one of them winning. I confess my heart lies with Johnny Appleseed. Not only is it a truly great book, at this time of Truth and Reconciliation it gave me a greater understanding of the indigenous experience in Canada, which is important to me. As the Canada Reads 2021 is a book to transport you, I am not sure it will win, if the panelists take that theme literally. If that’s the case, Butter, Honey, Pig, Bread really did that for me, as I really left Canada. I could make a case for the others too.
Should be more fun to lister to the debates this year.
What drew me to post was the Timothy Leary’s dead lyrics. The psychologist and 60’s LSD advocate was actually alive at the time the song was first recorded in 1968 on the In Search of the Lost Chord album.
There’s a good backgrounder on pophistorydig.com.
A big step up from the rattly construction cage that my sister and I fanangled our way into back in 2009 (her walking stick came in handy for negotiations!).
This is a real glass-walled elevator. Atop the crop there are accessible pathways to allow wheelchair users to move around. I say kudos to the Greek government for making this happen, especially during COVID times. Until travellers return, I am glad that Athenians are able to enjoy more of their precious sacred site, pleasantly sans-tourists.
Read more in Ekathimerini.
The famed footwear brand has partnered with Keith Haring’s estate to create a line of Keith Haring Doc Martens.
Read more on Art News.
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I was watching a show last night, a food competition, and one of the judges said the dessert took him back to Harry’s Bar in Venice, where the Bellini was invented. It was one of those few times where I got transported too. Remembering that I had blogged about it, I pulled up the post.
Ah, yes... what I hadn’t remembered was that the doodle I did, while sitting at the bar, is still in my possession. As is often the case, when someone asks about my doodles, I had offered it to the bartender. I had forgotten that he would only make a photocopy of it to keep, that he refused to accept the original.
While the memory of my overall experience is strong, I realize I might enjoy seeing this on my wall. I suppose I now have a mission to find the original, to frame it. Once I do so, it will evoke good memories.
While I do have small objects gathered on my epic 2009/2010 trip (a cushion cover, a small leather pouch, a little knife, etc), I never did frame the things I intended to. A result, perhaps of not having my very own walls, until a year ago. Now I feel home. Now I am inspired to do so.
Came across this in my journal, written in Florence, in 2009. Kind of an interesting coincidence...
Three times in the last week or so, I have been told, “The world needs you.” - twice in these exact words yesterday.
One was the guy who owns the Il Papiro shop and let me make my own paper, then chatted with me for a long time on his craft.
The other was after I met Alesandro, the artist I met a few days before and went back to visit yesterday (I bought him a gelato and we chatted for an hour or so).
The other was the palm reader in Roma - though not in those exact words.
This is something I am reflecting on.
On the off- chance you haven’t, there are 50 of them, and their job is to keep the rodents at bay. They have three caretakers and their very own Press Secretary.
Now a Frenchman has donated a tidy sum to pay to for their care an needed upgrades to their abodes. Although he has been named in some media, he made the donation anonymously and prefers to stay that way.
Whoever he is, I like his kind heart.
Read more in the New York Post.
Every day that goes by, I am more relieved to be out of the travel industry.
Yes, it was fun for awhile, and aside of the fact that it left me broke (avoid this field unless you have a pension, spouse or are mortgage-free with cash reserves), I did learn a lot. I met a lot of interesting people, planned some great trips and stretched myself, but it is best that I have moved on. My initial relief came early-COVID, when the industry was desecrated, but I am so glad to not be part of what is happening today.
I feel sick to the stomach every time I hear about someone off vacationing in the sun. Are you kidding me? What are you thinking? Even if you don’t care about yourself, how dare you risk others with your privilege? While others stay home and act responsibly, doing their part to put an end to the pandemic, what makes you think it is “ok” to satisfy your own self interests? I am less angry than confused. I am baffled and truly don’t get it.
So it is with this perspective that I am glad I am not being asked to help people book flights. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t live with myself.
I have been feeling this for awhile, but it has been magnified in the last few days as I have been receiving targeted marketing for tour operators offering packages complete with COVID and quarantine insurance. Get away, feel safe with all these protections, there has never been a better time to go, blah blah blah... WTF????
It turns my stomach.
I get it that all businesses are doing their best to survive and rebuild, but this is despicable.
I could have never sold travel in this environment and I know now that it would have been toxic to me to be around this all the time.
So I am more than done with the travel biz. I’ll never go back to it.
Any travel in my future will simply be my own, when it is safe to do so. And it will probably be modest and close to the ground, organized by me, myself and I.
What I miss most about travel is the simple stuff, hanging out like a local in cafes, staying for a month or so somewhere, soaking up the vibe, seeing a museum or two a week, living the experience.
I am in no hurry to travel though. This is a time to lay low, and be patient. For now, I savour the many travel experiences I’ve had. There is still a lot of enjoyment to be had there.
I can’t decide whether the thugs didn’t know what they were surrounded with (so paid no attention to the works) or did know (and restrained themselves)... probably the former, but who knows. But I am always glad when art is protected.
Read more in this topic:
I love a new-to-me word. Recently, it was semaphore.
Around New Year’s Eve, I was telling a colleague about the time I was living in downtown Vancouver, in a high-rise, and on New Year’s morning I saw a woman’s long, elegant evening gown flapping in the wind, perhaps thrown aside near the window in the wee hours, where it slipped out, and then caught. It was the old BC Hydro building, so there were no balconies, so I don’t even think they knew it was there. I always imagined the confusion and mystery they ensued.
My colleague said, perhaps it was a signal known to few... perhaps it was a semaphore.
Courtesy of Britannica:
Semaphore, method of visual signaling, usually by means of flags or lights. Before the invention of the telegraph, semaphore signaling from high towers was used to transmit messages between distant points. One such system was developed by Claude Chappe in France in 1794, employing a set of arms that pivoted on a post; the arms were mounted on towers spaced 5 to 10 miles (8 to 16 km) apart. Messages were read by telescopic sightings. Modern semaphores included movable arms or rows of lights simulating arms, displayed from towers and used to signal railroad trains. Semaphore signaling between ships, now largely abandoned, was accomplished by persons who held a small flag in each hand and, with arms extended, moved them to different angles to indicate letters of the alphabet or numbers.
It’s almost beyond belief: the city of Cincinnati sits atop a 2.2 mile subway system, complete with tracks and stations, that has never gone into service.
Construction was put on hold in 1920, when resources were diverted to the war effort. Afterwards, priorities shifted and the project was abandoned. It seems there has never been the public interest or political will to resurrect it.
Even today, as the city plans for transportation, it is building a streetcar system. Yes, above ground, on top of those unused tunnels.
Read more on Atlas Obscura.
