The melting of one thing into another.
So, this word just rolls off the tongue, don't you think? The definition evokes so many different images and emotions. It could be used for anything. Not only do I love ridiculously long words that have simple meanings, I'm also a huge fan of definitions that have multiple interpretations.
I first think of baking. With butter. Paula Deen, you're my hero! It's such a warm, comforting image, that suggests mouth-watering goodness.
Second, I think of glass-blowing. Yeah, I know, who thinks of that for anything? But really, the glass is melted and shaped into a beautiful piece of art. Sometimes precious metals are melted into the piece for an added dimension. Illiquation seems the perfect word for this process.
Finally, my mind bends toward something slightly more risque. I think of the interaction between a man and woman at the height of passion. The definition is the perfect description of being lost in love during the act of making it.
So many different interpretations, one simple word. All with the potential of becoming a terrific story.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Hypolimnion ~ A to Z Challenge: Day 8
A colder and deeper layer of water in a lake.
This one reminded me of a time in my youth, MG/Early teens, that I spent with my cousins in a sleepy little rural town. It was a 'wonder years' type of experience that I cherish.
We ran around unsupervised, as if there were no such thing as evil in the world. We rode bikes and skateboards down to the lake, stripped down to our suits and swam out to the floating dock. The girls layed out to tan while the boys performed cannon balls at just the right angles to disrupt our peaceful sun worship. We squealed and laughed and talked about all that was important in our tiny little world. Every once in a while we dove off the edge into the refreshing water to break the heat. Then one cousin suggested a competition worthy of only the most daring soul. The task was this: dive under the dock, grab the anchoring rope and descend hand over hand as far as your breath allowed. You would know how deep you went because after the first 15 feet the water temperature would change, and again every 10 feet after that.
The first time your toes dipped down into the layer of cold water was exhilarating. You pushed your way through and the coolness washed over your entire body, then your toes touched warmth again. Cool, warm, cool. The sensations kept you wanting to push further, all the while calculating distance in the back of your mind, until the desire to breathe came to the forefront. One more level and you would let your survival instinct drag you back up through the parfait of contrasting temperatures. Your face broke the surface and you were gasping and laughing and shouting your amazing depth count to the astonishment of your peers.
One summer day on the lake stretched out for an eternity. When the sun began to set we swam back to the shore, and rode to the house where we were greeted with burgers on the grill and soda bottles on ice. Homemade ice cream, and turns riding around the block on the back of our uncle's motorcycle. At bed time, we stayed up under the covers with flashlights, reading. Everything was right in the world.
How about you? Any stories from a childhood summer that you hold dear? Feel free to share, I love stories. :^)
This one reminded me of a time in my youth, MG/Early teens, that I spent with my cousins in a sleepy little rural town. It was a 'wonder years' type of experience that I cherish.
We ran around unsupervised, as if there were no such thing as evil in the world. We rode bikes and skateboards down to the lake, stripped down to our suits and swam out to the floating dock. The girls layed out to tan while the boys performed cannon balls at just the right angles to disrupt our peaceful sun worship. We squealed and laughed and talked about all that was important in our tiny little world. Every once in a while we dove off the edge into the refreshing water to break the heat. Then one cousin suggested a competition worthy of only the most daring soul. The task was this: dive under the dock, grab the anchoring rope and descend hand over hand as far as your breath allowed. You would know how deep you went because after the first 15 feet the water temperature would change, and again every 10 feet after that.
The first time your toes dipped down into the layer of cold water was exhilarating. You pushed your way through and the coolness washed over your entire body, then your toes touched warmth again. Cool, warm, cool. The sensations kept you wanting to push further, all the while calculating distance in the back of your mind, until the desire to breathe came to the forefront. One more level and you would let your survival instinct drag you back up through the parfait of contrasting temperatures. Your face broke the surface and you were gasping and laughing and shouting your amazing depth count to the astonishment of your peers.
One summer day on the lake stretched out for an eternity. When the sun began to set we swam back to the shore, and rode to the house where we were greeted with burgers on the grill and soda bottles on ice. Homemade ice cream, and turns riding around the block on the back of our uncle's motorcycle. At bed time, we stayed up under the covers with flashlights, reading. Everything was right in the world.
How about you? Any stories from a childhood summer that you hold dear? Feel free to share, I love stories. :^)
Friday, April 8, 2011
Gynotikolobomassophile ~ A to Z Challenge: Day 7
Okay, I just LOVE enormously long words that mean something simple or silly, can you tell?
This one means 'one who nibbles on women's earlobes'.
Seriously.
This one means 'one who nibbles on women's earlobes'.
Seriously.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Fescennine ~ A to Z Challenge: Day 6
Def. - marked by the use of vulgarity or obscene language.
My lunch hour was fescennine, once I crunched down on the foreign object and broke a molar. Endodontics, while not my favorite past time, would be very helpful today; however, no one can see me until Monday. I am predicting a rather fescennine weekend, as well.
Typically, I am able to use substitutionary words during the course of daily conversation, my favorite being 'Monkey'. I was able to use 'Monkey' several times this afternoon, but in-addition-to rather than in-place-of. So now I have random moments of %$#@&. Physical pain is not my forte. I am no stranger to it, but I enjoy a relatively healthy, pain-free existence... and I like it that way. It's possible I will have to render myself mute via a tequila-induced coma until such time as I can receive medical attention. Mostly because I get charged a quarter every time I use a curse word, and I'm fairly certain I rang up a $5 lunch today.
Feel free to join in, the Monkeys and I will be doing some Prairie Fire shooters with a little salt and lime, and it's liable to be slightly fescennine... let's see if I can still say that after a couple of rounds.... I guarantee I'll still be able to say 'Monkey'.
My lunch hour was fescennine, once I crunched down on the foreign object and broke a molar. Endodontics, while not my favorite past time, would be very helpful today; however, no one can see me until Monday. I am predicting a rather fescennine weekend, as well.
Typically, I am able to use substitutionary words during the course of daily conversation, my favorite being 'Monkey'. I was able to use 'Monkey' several times this afternoon, but in-addition-to rather than in-place-of. So now I have random moments of %$#@&. Physical pain is not my forte. I am no stranger to it, but I enjoy a relatively healthy, pain-free existence... and I like it that way. It's possible I will have to render myself mute via a tequila-induced coma until such time as I can receive medical attention. Mostly because I get charged a quarter every time I use a curse word, and I'm fairly certain I rang up a $5 lunch today.
Feel free to join in, the Monkeys and I will be doing some Prairie Fire shooters with a little salt and lime, and it's liable to be slightly fescennine... let's see if I can still say that after a couple of rounds.... I guarantee I'll still be able to say 'Monkey'.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Eellogofusciouhipoppokunurious ~ A to Z Challenge: Day 5
It is a real word, I swear, that means......... Good.
I'm using this as a reminder that my writing needs to be tight. I mean, seriously? Did we need that many letters to say 'Yay!'? I have found in my voracious reading that there are some really great books out there, and some really not great ones, but there are also some good books that could be great if only the writing was a little tighter.
We should be going through our MS with a fine tooth comb, slashing every word that isn't necessary, making sure our chosen language style isn't burdensome... before we let even our beta reader/agent/editor look at it. It then becomes less work for them as they read through, and less work for us on the other side.
Once I have scaled down to the bare bones idea of each sentence, I can then reread and decide if I need to be more descriptive in some areas, or if there is room for more showing in others. I ask myself questions:
Does this paragraph make sense?
Does this sentence adequately present the image I am trying to describe?
Is this grammattically correct?
Is there another way I can say this?
Is that the absolute maximum amount of 'that's' that I can use in that sentence?
Where the hell is my thesaurus?
It's all basic writer 101, I know, but it works.
And it's all eellogofusciouhipoppokunurious, ya know?
I'm using this as a reminder that my writing needs to be tight. I mean, seriously? Did we need that many letters to say 'Yay!'? I have found in my voracious reading that there are some really great books out there, and some really not great ones, but there are also some good books that could be great if only the writing was a little tighter.
We should be going through our MS with a fine tooth comb, slashing every word that isn't necessary, making sure our chosen language style isn't burdensome... before we let even our beta reader/agent/editor look at it. It then becomes less work for them as they read through, and less work for us on the other side.
Once I have scaled down to the bare bones idea of each sentence, I can then reread and decide if I need to be more descriptive in some areas, or if there is room for more showing in others. I ask myself questions:
Does this paragraph make sense?
Does this sentence adequately present the image I am trying to describe?
Is this grammattically correct?
Is there another way I can say this?
Is that the absolute maximum amount of 'that's' that I can use in that sentence?
Where the hell is my thesaurus?
It's all basic writer 101, I know, but it works.
And it's all eellogofusciouhipoppokunurious, ya know?
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Discommodius ~ A to Z Challenge: Day 4
No, this is not the lack of a toilet-like structure, as some might surmise based on the root-word.
I know, it was like I could see into your soul just then.
The actual definition of discommodius is as follows: inconvenient.
This is somewhat related to your original thought process, especially if you have recently consumed a 52 ounce cherry vanilla Dr. Pepper from Quick Trip. However, it has much farther reaching implications. It reaches all the way to my cubicle, in fact.. It is the definition of my eight-hour hiatus from life Monday through Friday.
I try not to be a complainer, I really do. I like my job. I like what I do, I like the company I work for, I like my boss(es), I like my coworkers, I like my paycheck, and I like my benefits package. I just feel like I could be a more complete person if I could multitask a little more. I am able to execute my duties and do several loads of laundry at the same time. I have the ability to run the dishwasher while I work. It is possible for me to conference call while Wet-Jetting the hardwoods. Yet, to date, I have not come up with a plausible argument convincing my employer that my position is 100% telecommutable.
Utterly discommodius.
I know, it was like I could see into your soul just then.
The actual definition of discommodius is as follows: inconvenient.
This is somewhat related to your original thought process, especially if you have recently consumed a 52 ounce cherry vanilla Dr. Pepper from Quick Trip. However, it has much farther reaching implications. It reaches all the way to my cubicle, in fact.. It is the definition of my eight-hour hiatus from life Monday through Friday.
I try not to be a complainer, I really do. I like my job. I like what I do, I like the company I work for, I like my boss(es), I like my coworkers, I like my paycheck, and I like my benefits package. I just feel like I could be a more complete person if I could multitask a little more. I am able to execute my duties and do several loads of laundry at the same time. I have the ability to run the dishwasher while I work. It is possible for me to conference call while Wet-Jetting the hardwoods. Yet, to date, I have not come up with a plausible argument convincing my employer that my position is 100% telecommutable.
Utterly discommodius.
Corybantic ~ A to Z Challenge: Day 3 (ish)
Wildly excited; frenzied.
This word completely contradicts the emotion I felt when I realized I forgot to post yesterday! Aaaaccckk! Early Onset Fail!! Oh, wait, maybe it was really close to what I felt.....
I would not consider myself a highly emotional person in terms of expression. When I get happy I rarely jump up and down screaming for joy. When I'm sad one would never find me in the fetal position blubbering in a pool of my own tears. When I'm angry I'm not a red-faced beastly annihilator. I don't normally go to the extreme on any level, I consider myself a fairly moderate citizen.
However....
Last week, after having suffered a horrific blow followed by a miraculous save, my favorite American Idol contestant, Casey, sang the most beautiful rendition of Elton John's 'Your Song' that I've ever heard. At the conclusion, I not only squealed out loud like a little fangirl and clapped, but I became verklempt, and almost cried.
Yes, you read that correctly. After years of staunchly maintaining that these teenage girls who scream and cry in the presence of musicians are obviously emotionally unstable and in dire need of a priority evaluation, I have succumbed. Don't get me wrong, I do not recant. It's possible I am in need of some type of evaluation. Okay, probable. However, for the first time in my life I was moved by the performance of someone I don't know from Adam. I have liked songs, even loved songs; I have been impressed by performances or shows. But I cannot say I have ever been moved by the performance of someone I wasn't already emotionally connected to.
This is a first, on multiple levels, but I dare say I was positively corybantic.
This word completely contradicts the emotion I felt when I realized I forgot to post yesterday! Aaaaccckk! Early Onset Fail!! Oh, wait, maybe it was really close to what I felt.....
I would not consider myself a highly emotional person in terms of expression. When I get happy I rarely jump up and down screaming for joy. When I'm sad one would never find me in the fetal position blubbering in a pool of my own tears. When I'm angry I'm not a red-faced beastly annihilator. I don't normally go to the extreme on any level, I consider myself a fairly moderate citizen.
However....
Last week, after having suffered a horrific blow followed by a miraculous save, my favorite American Idol contestant, Casey, sang the most beautiful rendition of Elton John's 'Your Song' that I've ever heard. At the conclusion, I not only squealed out loud like a little fangirl and clapped, but I became verklempt, and almost cried.
Yes, you read that correctly. After years of staunchly maintaining that these teenage girls who scream and cry in the presence of musicians are obviously emotionally unstable and in dire need of a priority evaluation, I have succumbed. Don't get me wrong, I do not recant. It's possible I am in need of some type of evaluation. Okay, probable. However, for the first time in my life I was moved by the performance of someone I don't know from Adam. I have liked songs, even loved songs; I have been impressed by performances or shows. But I cannot say I have ever been moved by the performance of someone I wasn't already emotionally connected to.
This is a first, on multiple levels, but I dare say I was positively corybantic.
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