Word of the day:
pococurante (po-ko-koo-RAN-tee, -kyoo-)
adjective - Indifferent, apathetic, nonchalant.
noun - A careless or indifferent person.
[From Italian poco (little) + curante, present participle of curare, (to care), from Latin curare (cure, care).]
Use: Tiff was entrenched in a self-made rut so deep she gave herself the indian name "Princess Pococurante," which, though very lame indeed, made her smile.
Have you written your spooky story for the Wordsmiths yet?
And now, to the meat of the matter, which today resembles not so much a beef roast or loin of mutton, but more appears to be ground chuck of high fat content that when cooked shrinks to a mere shade of its former meaty glory.
'Cause today, we talk about, well, um, my life, which is not so meaty, and not so juicy and really really not so spicy!
Just like my meatloaf, actually, and if we were to create a real meataphor (hee!) I'd have to say that my life right now is like a slightly over done meatlof without the tomato sauce topping.
I mean, I was actually thinking about tell y'all about how I'm still trying to UNPACK, when we've been in our house for 5 months.
I was also maybe going to talk about our dogs again.
There was even a brief notion to introduce you to my morning routine, of which the lunch-making decisions would have been the most entertaining part (or, maybe, for you perves out there, the description of which shampoo I used and what soap I chose, because, yes, there is MORE THAN ONE kind of shampoo and soap in my shower. Do I want to smell like apples or patchouli? Do I want lustrous silky hair or wild cave-girl curls? Gotta mix it up for variety, oh yes we do!).
Or, maybe I could write about doing laundry, and how the neatly folded piles I lovingly create, sorted by clothing type in drawer-friendly sizes, don't seem to be able to move from dryer-top to dresser? It's as through the stacks of shirts are welded down by a horrendous force of nature until one Thing or the other breaks the treamendous force field to rifle through the pile, disrupting it and, presumably, the awesome power of the pile that prohibits it from being moved in toto to an EMPTY dresser drawer. Amazing! Behold the power of the pile!
Which brings me to another topic....how is it that, if by some miracle of nature, the pile somehow does get moved from the dryer top to the actual bedroom (largely as a result of the dark matter known as "nagging"), it does not get put into the dresser drawer? What awesome force is it that keeps that from happening? What part of the universal sphere is ringing more happily with the clothes on a desk, or floor, or chair? How is it that this happens with such consistency that I've now accepted that this is the way of nature and should not be muddled with?
And why, oh why, do I care?
Later, I shall add a cupla tee-shirt ideas that amuse me, but for now, with Blogger going pear-shaped and my lunch dates waiting, I must leave you....
Have a lovely weekend, y'all.