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The definition of the word palooza is as follows:
The art of throwing a very drunken extravagent party with a plethora of friends. Whoever is throwing the palooza usually adds their name as a prefix to the word …
So when I saw this advertisement the other day? I called foul.
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There’s simply no room for a plethora of anything between those little strings.
Heck, even using the word panty is stretching it.
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Remember the picture I posted 10 days ago?
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My nemesis, momma red squirrel… doing what I assumed was chilling on the grass near our kitchen landing?
As it turns out, she wasn’t chilling.
She was splooting.
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While I’ve always believed I have a well rounded vocabulary, splooting has been noticeably absent.
Until now.
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The fur on their bellies is thinner than the rest of their body so in essence, they’re performing a heat dump.
Splooting.
There’s nothing like the satisfaction of learning a new ludicrous word.
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Why is it that technology designed to make our life easier always turns out to be a right royal pain in the as?
Yes, I typed ass… but autocorrect switched it to as. In addition to being annoying, my autocorrect is also a potty mouth censor. And fur the duration of this pist, I will be leaving the changes it makes to prove my point.
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That helps somewhat. To be honest, it’s the only reasonable explanation why every single time I type “for” it comes up fur.
And “post” is changed to pist. (Pist. That isn’t even a word! Which it damn well knows because every time it makes the switch the word comes up underlined. WTH?)
“Doesn’t” ? That’s changed to Durant. (Who is Durant? And why dues he keep wanting to appear in my pists?)
Dues! Geesh, that’s a brand new one. Clearly I have angered the autocorrect Gods.
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Yes, I know I can turn off the option in settings. But there’s a twisted part of me that’s stubborn enough to want to win the battle. If I disregard the changes often enough maybe, just maybe…that little drunken elf will sober up.
Too much to hope fur?
Probably. But hope springs external.
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I didn’t, but now I do.
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And damn, judging from my very first attempt?
I rock!
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Considering I had no earthly idea what I was doing, I am proud of myself.
In case you don’t already know Wordle is the new game that’s taken over the internet. It’s web based, not an app… and you can only play once a day. So while I think it’s going to be addicting, there’s no danger of wasting countless hours staring at a screen.
The premise is simple. The daily puzzle is one 5 letter word and you have six chances to guess it. Everyone gets the same word so it’s become something of a world wide competition.
Sound simple? Trust me, it’s not.
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While I lucked out on my first puzzle and guessed it in three, the next day I didn’t guess it all and was extremely frustrated. (I will henceforth hate the word knoll and it’s dastardly kn consonant combination.)
So Google “Wordle… A Daily Word Game” and give it a go.
And let us know how you did.
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Lord Dudley Mountcatten sleeps in some odd positions.
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I look, and think he must be uncomfortable… but the wee beast sleeps like that 19 hours a day so I must be mistaken.
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Have you ever tried a recipe and had your hopes for decadent dessert deliciousness dashed?
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That’s what happened when I found a recipe for caramel banana upside down cake. I painstakingly followed the directions… and while it looked and smelled wonderful?
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It was a banana topped brick. I swear I could have used it as a doorstop… or to bash in someone’s head. The husband and I took one bite a piece and heaved it in the trash.
Tres disappointing.
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But I passed this woodpile later in the day…
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And had to smile.
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Be sure to ask for an extra stabby grabby the next time you go out to eat…. and think of me.
😉
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Yes, I’ve finally reached the end of words that were added to the dictionary in the year of my birth.
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It’s been an enlightening journey.
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Umami. In Japanese it means “essence of deliciousness”, but you might know it better as MSG.
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Wagyu , a heavily marbled Japanese beef. I can’t say I’ve ever tried it but it’s supposed to be fabulous. And it better be, I read they give the cows beer to stimulate their appetites and massage them with Saki. At least they meet their end happy.
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Yay. Seeing that this was the year I graced the planet with my presence, this word needs no explanation.
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Zester. River loves her some citrus so I’m thrilled to take credit for this handy dandy kitchen tool.
Lemon zest makes everything better, and if you’ve never tried it? Add a pinch to your lemon drop martini.
Cheers!
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Bet you didn’t know there are so many words added to the dictionary every year did you?
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What… you don’t care? Then it’s probably better if you skip to the next blog.
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Lie in. The British phrase for staying in bed past the time you were supposed to get up. Personally I’d like to have a lie in till Covid is a thing of the past…. but that would probably require more pajamas than I currently own.
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Miniseries? This is 1963. I thought Roots was the first.
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Phat. I seem to remember that term from my misspent youth. Pretty Hot and Tempting. Though when I searched for a meme…. I got this.
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Captain Kirk would be so pleased.
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My weekly skunking of the husband at Scrabble in the Barn Mahal continues. And now? Even the tiles are getting in on the fun…
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Yes, those were really the letters I drew. And it’s pretty much what I did to the husband in game number one.
Not to be out done, our second game’s tiles had their say as well.
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My last four letters said it all.
Sorry, dear. I only do what the tiles tell me…
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Now that my seemingly endless supply of liquor bottles were strategically arranged on the custom made shelves…. it was time to get down to business.
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Cocktail business.
We have a favorite restaurant in Kennebunk that we haven’t visited for over a year. *insert audible sigh here* (The bartender is an old client of my husband’s and he’s been known to have a liberal pouring hand. I like that in a man.) My very favorite drink is made there and seeing that it’s won awards, I’m clearly not the only one who loves it.
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Calling it the nectar of the gods doesn’t begin to describe it’s mood elevating goodness, but trust me… it’s close.
So when our barn bar was being planned, built and outfitted? This divine concoction was never far from my mind.
Having never made one, I searched the web for a recipe but only came up with an ingredient list. Being out of Triple Sec I substituted Grand Marnier… and not knowing their homemade sour ingredients, I had to settle for bottled.
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The results were satisfying… if nowhere near the ambrosia level of the original.
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Bad Martha grudgingly approved, but said it still needed a little tweeking.
* side note – my iPhone’s spellcheck changed tweeking to twerking three times… to which Bad Martha thoroughly approves. *
Cocktail in hand, it was time to whip the husband.
At Scrabble! My name is not Martha.
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Game number one gave me a series of disastrous letters…. but I prevailed.
And the beginning of game number two?
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Didn’t begin much better.
( To answer your inevitable question… yes, I drew a ‘c’ Yes, I used that word. And yes, the husband added an ‘ed’ because in the end? He knew he was. )
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Let’s word.
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My birth year seems to have been full of scientific additions that mean absolutely nothing to me.
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But dragon fruit? I had a martini made from those once and it was lovely.
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Elevator music? Great, the next time Barry Manilow comes on at the mall everyone will blame me.
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Fetal position? I’m ashamed to say I have assumed that after a night of too many martinis…. and it was far from lovely.
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Hotdog? Now that I think about it my mother always called them frankfurters. Maybe she was a Rocky Horror Picture Show fan after all.
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And finally Japanese quail, which now that I think about it…. looks a little bit like me after a years worth of non stop Covid lockdown cooking and eating.
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River's world..... 