Poetry Friday WORD for tomorrow, plus calcium!
We have, for lack of a more descriptive phrase, a HUGE-ASS dictionary. It’s one-a them unabridged versions, oversized, the kind you can get lost in. At dinner not long ago, one of the kids asked for a definition of the word “pitch”. We gave them one…then another…then another. Sergei pulled out Huge-Ass Dictionary after the table was cleared, and turned to the p-i-t section. There were over 50 definitions for the word. FIFTY. Which means not only that it’s a versatile word, but that apparently our ancestors got lazy at some point and started calling every new thing “pitch”. (“Hey Jebediah, whut ya call that there black sticky stuff you put on yer roof?” “Hell, I dunno…uhhh…pitch??”)
The Poetry Friday WORD for tomorrow is PITCH. Feel free to brush that sticky word all over your thatched-roof blog tomorrow, in whatever fashion keeps you watertight…poem, story, photo, alternative definition, Cockney rhyming slang, shoe fetish sculpture….
I want to thank y’all for your comments to my post yesterday. They reallyreallyreally helped me get out of my whiny funk. It’s funny, the older I get, and the older my friends get, the more open we seem to be about discussing intimate things like that. The more we have in common. So here’s a big ol’ MWAH from me to you. You rock!
Oh, and here’s a little tidbit I re-discovered this morning…I’m still scared of the dark. HAH. Still. When I was five, and would cry out for my parents in the night because it was too dark, my dad would try to ‘cure’ me of this fear. Once he took me into the bedroom, pointed at the stars out my window, and said, “You’re never alone. You have the stars to keep you company.” Then he tried to sneak out while I was looking at Orion’s Belt. But I busted him and started crying. ‘Cause stars can’t hold your hand when you’re scared and get you a drink of water and tuck your covers way high under your chin.
I had a scary, realistic dream last night, wherein I was at work, and our night computer operator physically attacked me. I remember screaming at him and yelling for people to pull him the hell off me. This morning when I left for work, and walked outside in the darkness, I freaked out. Remembering the dream. I stared out across the lawn, at the snow lit by the streetlamp, and something crashed at the house across the street. Panic. Probably just an icicle falling. Or maybe a stray cat. Or maybe the computer guy trying to get me for real. I stared for a time down the street one way, then another, then around the sides of the house, but saw nothing. I pulled out into the street and my car, as if on auto-pilot, circled my block, looking for Bad Guys. Circled three times. Trying to find things in the darkness. I was ultimately satisfied and came to work. Fortunately, the computer guy was gone when I got in. I’ll have to tell my boss about THAT dream.