I Like A Tidy Bowl

I'm not even sure how this happened - well, I am sure -- you know how sometimes you've seen a word and you're not sure how to say it so you throw caution to the wind and just toss it off like you've been using it all your life? Well, that's not me. I do award points to those who will try out a new word. Those same points however, will be deducted for improper usage.

The word in question today is hyperbole.

I was discussing an email communique from the brass here at work and was told by a colleague that it was nothing but hyper-bowl. Hyperbowl? Wonder why that never caught on?

The email in question was about the direction the company was taking. It was not filled with any sort of exaggeration. I didn't point this out.

What I did point out was how to pronounce the word. All I said was hyperbole. And the subject in question said oh, so you pronounce the 'e' at the end huh?

Next topic please.

The Shape Of Things

I've become too lazy to even walk over to the treadmill and hang clothes on it. What is to become of me?

Potent Quotables

Any time I have to go to a visitation at a funeral home or my mind clears for more than 10 minutes, I'm reminded that there are several big questions that plague most of us. You know the drill -- what's it all about? what's my purpose? what will people remember about me? Well, the other day, I came across this quote which sort of summed a few things up for me:

Not one of us knows what effect his life produces, and what he gives to others; that is hidden from us and must remain so, though we are often allowed to see some little fraction of it, so that we may not lose courage.

-- Albert Schweitzer

The Games People Play

I just retrieved a voice mail message from a client I had left a message for previously.

He said in his return message "I guess we're playing tic tac toe by phone". If that's the case, next time I want to be X.

He then said "I need to ask some questions I'm not familiar with".
I wish I wasn't familiar with this thing called having to call you back.

Flight Risk

My visit to the Maritimes was lovely if a day or two too long. Aren't all those sense memories of home that warm you while booking your ticket wonderful? They are until you're 4 days in and you remember why you don't live there anymore. (Reason #23: You don't consider pyjama pants formal wear)

So, I just flew back from the coast and boy are my arms ready to swat at the next baby I see. Who loves babies more than me when I'm flying? Nobody. Unless the baby is yours, mine, ours or alive - I simply adore the damnable little things.

Let me count the ways I love them:

there's the general bleating and crying from behind me (is that from 3 rows back or just behind my right ear?)

the peeking over the seat in front of me (cute is relative and a time limited proposition)

the throwing up on or near me (no, really, these pants although expensive are disposable)

the peeing on or near me (the smell of urine, it's not just for breakfast anymore)

the spilling things on or near me (Cheerios fine, juice or milk products not fine)

and the general kicking and hitting (that's hot)

My flight had to pit stop to pick up additional passengers before heading for home. There was just a small scattering of people on the flight to begin with and this was very much to my liking. We touched down to avail ourselves of what was sure to be just a few more fresh and quiet new people.

No less than 8 assorted groupings of babies began to board! Terror and fear - a man carrying two small babies, a woman with a toddler and a newborn, a couple with a chatty little dickens and so on.

Don't sit near me, don't sit near me, don't sit near me. Musn't make eye contact, do not look at those babies. Why wasn't I told there was a fucking Gerber baby audition going on here and that they'd all be getting on my flight?

I calmed down enough to realize that it was just the usual pre-boarding call and that they always let the loudest and most annoying people on first.

My mind settled just as the babies did all around me. I got as comfortable as you can get in coach and could feel a small foot kicking away at my seat from behind. At least the crying hadn't started yet. Eventually, the fairly rhythmic kicking put me to sleep and I dreamed of a babies only airline run by kindly deaf grandmothers.

What a wonderful world it would be.