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I'm So-o-o Excited About My New Verb!
Feb. 14th, 2019 08:21 amDreamed my mother was still alive and, moreover (gasp!) a sympathetic presence!
And this was so shocking that I bolted straight up upon awakening.
A good dream, though. I would so much rather feel affection and compassion for my mother than hatred and fear.
Spent the day doing incredibly boring stuff for the client who will not quit me no matter how hard I try to alienate him.
In the evening, I toddled off to the first Garden Meeting of the season, helmed by the irrepressible Debbie.
The prune-faced woman was there again to deliver another rant about how she was the most compassionate woman in the world but she wasn’t about to conscience stealing by the homeless hordes who haunt Hyde Park! I’ve never seen these hordes myself, but she was there to assure us—for 18 minutes straight; I timed her—that they are there, a veritable zombie army, with pinwheel eyes and mouths like cavernous maws, slurking—a new verb I just invented that combines “slink” with “lurk”—their way toward the Community Garden with but one thought in their feebly flickering collective brain: to steal our tomatoes!!!!!
So we needed a lock!
Ensued another half hour debate about what kind of lock we needed. The prune-faced woman thought a combination lock—
“I’m on record as saying I think locks are a ridiculous idea,” I interrupted. “If people are so hungry that they would actually track down the garden—which is not exactly on the beaten path—I say let them have the goddam tomatoes. In fact, I say put a table out in front with tomatoes.
“But if you’re gonna have a lock, you need a lock with keys. ‘Cause the second time someone gets locked in the garden overnight, it’s not gonna be funny.”
Commotion broke out!
Debbie was actually forced to put the matter to a vote! And the lock got voted down!
Yay!
And this was so shocking that I bolted straight up upon awakening.
A good dream, though. I would so much rather feel affection and compassion for my mother than hatred and fear.
Spent the day doing incredibly boring stuff for the client who will not quit me no matter how hard I try to alienate him.
In the evening, I toddled off to the first Garden Meeting of the season, helmed by the irrepressible Debbie.
The prune-faced woman was there again to deliver another rant about how she was the most compassionate woman in the world but she wasn’t about to conscience stealing by the homeless hordes who haunt Hyde Park! I’ve never seen these hordes myself, but she was there to assure us—for 18 minutes straight; I timed her—that they are there, a veritable zombie army, with pinwheel eyes and mouths like cavernous maws, slurking—a new verb I just invented that combines “slink” with “lurk”—their way toward the Community Garden with but one thought in their feebly flickering collective brain: to steal our tomatoes!!!!!
So we needed a lock!
Ensued another half hour debate about what kind of lock we needed. The prune-faced woman thought a combination lock—
“I’m on record as saying I think locks are a ridiculous idea,” I interrupted. “If people are so hungry that they would actually track down the garden—which is not exactly on the beaten path—I say let them have the goddam tomatoes. In fact, I say put a table out in front with tomatoes.
“But if you’re gonna have a lock, you need a lock with keys. ‘Cause the second time someone gets locked in the garden overnight, it’s not gonna be funny.”
Commotion broke out!
Debbie was actually forced to put the matter to a vote! And the lock got voted down!
Yay!
