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Archive for April, 2012

WOOHOO! We did it! We made the cumbersome trek from A through some tricky patches in the middle all the way to Zed!

So what wonderful things in my life begin with Z?

Zard! When the incomparable Izzybella was younger, she was off on some sort of school thing with some theatre friends, and awoke one morning with one of the guys swinging from the rafters yelling “Zard! Wake up!” or something like that, so she got called Zard by a lot of people. Me, I still preferred to call her Lizardbreath.

And I could hardly close out the alphabet without a shout-out to my favourite bilingual muppet, could I?

And, for the record, Zoe is waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay cuter than Elmo.

Za. I don’t know what the heck it means, but if you play it on a triple word or triple letter square, it can net you up to 33 points in Words With Friends.

Zero, a very useful number. I like it a lot, at times, like if I want something and I ask how much it is, and they say “zero dollars and zero cents,” then it’s free! Squee! Of course, that never happens. It’s just an illustration. Then there are times I hate zero, like when I hop onto the scale to see how much I lost and it says “zero pounds and zero ounces.” Of course, that doesn’t happen either. It’s either up or down with me.

Zeus, the old lecher.  Izzybella and I once dreamed up a chick lit novel featuring Zeus and his escapades, only we decided not to write it because we’re not huge fans of chick lit.

This artist actually painted Zeus with Hera. But that’s more the exception than the rule.  He only had 6 children with Hera (Ares, Eileithyia, Eris, Hebe, Hephaestus, and Angelos). And trust me, he had a heckuva lot more than just 6 kids. No wonder Hera was always cranky. I’d have been cranky, too. Dirty old man!

And one of my favourite Z things of all: Catching Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz’s. Which I’m hoping to do nicely tonight. I talked to my doctor’s office, and they decided to put me on a Z-pack (Hey! Another Z!) because apparently the first round of antibiotics didn’t entirely knock out my strep throat. So I’m shortly (as soon as I catch up on Words With Friends) going to take all my medicines and try to hit the sack early because tomorrow will be a busy, busy day.

I love you all! Thanks for sharing this journey with me, and I hope you decide to keep visiting.

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I Said What?????

Every now and again, like most people, my mouth opens and I trip over some of the most gosh-awful phrases you can imagine. And other times I’m wandering along talking to myself (hush, you know you do it too!), and then freeze, almost paralyzed, when I realize what just came out of my mouth. And I guess my mind must be in the gutter, because these episodes just cracked me up once I made sure no one was within earshot.

Last night I was at Barnes & Nobles looking for a crossword puzzle book. I’m addicted to the New York Times Sunday puzzles. They’re extremely difficult and I love them. I don’t like easy crossword puzzles. They annoy me. But I have all of the current NYT Sunday puzzles, so I picked up a different one to check it out. “This is short and little. I like ’em big, and long, and hard.”

That just embarrassed the crap right out of me. But it gets worse.

I stopped for a malt at Sonic, because the ice cream soothes my currently perpetually sore throat. The straw they gave me was a little narrow, and I sucked and sucked and sucked, and finally some of the malt started to come through the straw. As I parked my car at the apartment, I heard myself say, “Man, I really had to suck a long time to get it up.”

:blush

And now I’m sharing it, for the sole purpose of comforting those of you who’ve ever completely unintentionally said something that could be taken in a really filthy manner. (And also because I need you to share something you’ve said, so I know I’m not alone!!!!)

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Y Not?

Yellow.  My youngest sister, A., looked like an angel whenever she wore yellow. She had beautiful red hair, the sweeetest smile you could ever hope to see, and yellow just set her colouring off perfectly. One of my favourite photos of her was when she was maybe 6 or 7, her red hair cut into a bob; she wore a yellow dress and a timid smile whilst holding an easter basket.

Yacht. The word, not the boat.  I used to mentally pronounce it “yatchitt” and the only way I found out was, amusingly enough, by reading a book where the author shared her experiences as a child playing “yatchitt” only to learn later on that it was not pronounced that way at all. I won’t spoil any of you who still pronounce it “yatchitt,” because personally I like it better that way anyway.

Yoga. My lovely bff sister-friend Jehara provided my first experiences with yoga. She used it as warmups before rehearsals and before the shows. I totally suck at it, for the most part, but I find that it somehow releases something within me. I leak tears when I’m doing yoga. I confess I am a little dismayed at how much yoga passes cost, because it’s enough out of my budget that I can’t go. And the DVD’s I have at home are good, but they are no substitute for having someone help me get into the right poses.

Savasana–I’m good at this pose. 🙂

Yams. I love baked yams, mashed yams, yam biscuits, yams any way you can think of to prepare them. They have such a rich flavour. Not just for autumn and winter!

Yawning. Why is it so contagious????? Enquiring minds want to know! When I was in 8th grade, I think, I had math class after lunch. Our teacher informed us on the very first day that he could not abide trying to teach a bunch of students who were all yawning incessantly. Therefore, he said, anyone who yawned in his class got sent out. Well, I was quite the shy kid, and I certainly didn’t want to get sent out of class for yawning. But, well, it was math class. And it was after lunch. I HAD to yawn.  Therefore, and although some experts say it is not possible, I mastered the art of yawning with my mouth closed. It’s hard, no question, and it doesn’t solve the problem of tears streaming down your face or your ears popping, but it can be done.  I will confess that now, many years later, if that teacher didn’t get some amusement out of the expressions those of us who larned how to yawn with our mouths closed.  And I will also confess that I have been yawning the entire time I wrote this paragraph. I bet you did, too. C’mon, fess up!

Yeast. I made my first loaf of bread when I was, what, 12, I think. Oh, it was dreadful. The hardest little densest loaf of bread you’ve ever seen. I didn’t realize that I had to let it rise again after the first rising and after you shaped it into a loaf. But I was so proud of myself. As I continued my forays into bread-baking, I did learn about that critical second rising. I used to make 6 loaves of bread at a time, and remember being furious with my motherr when I returned once to the kitchen to check on my cooling bread, only to find that she had sliced the ends off every damn loaf and eaten them! She said she couldn’t resist, because the end slices were her favourite. Anyway, back to yeast. When you’re using yeast, it’s easy to either kill it by using too hot water, or your yeast may have lost its ability to rise. If you don’t want to find out the hard way that you messed up your yeast, you just need to proof it.  To proof it you need to mix the yeast with the warm–but not too hot–water and a little sugar. Stir the mixture together in a little cup or bowl, and if it gets all lovely and bubbly, then it’s live and you mixed it just right. Then you go ahead and mix it in with your dough and all should be well.

So wow! We’re almost through the A to Z challenge! Tune in on Monday if you’re interested to see what I can find to say about zed!

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X

There can only be one option for X. Ready? Warning–this is a graphic heavy post.

 

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Wow. Wowly-wow-wow.

Is it time already for the W’s? It seems like only a few days ago we started with the A’s.  Of course, the incomparable Izzybella did fill in for me more than a few times while I was computerless/netless/witless.

Okay. The first W is the most important: The Webb Sisters. Izzy and I, in other words. When I was dating my husband, he always referred to us as the Webb Sisters, and it kinda stuck, even though I have a different last name. We’ll always be the Webb Sisters, no matter what, and I love that about us.

Um, trying to think here, watermelon. I like watermelon, rather a lot. And the spitting the seeds across the yard is the best part! Of course, with me being how I am about food textures, the watermelon has to be perfectly crisp and juicy. If it’s even the least bit mushy, I just can’t eat it. And I like watermelon flavoured candy, too. Watermelon jelly bellies, f’rinstance, are second only to juicy pear. And i’ve talked before about the watermelon Jolly Ranchers and the massive amounts of drool they produce.

My Aunt W., who lovingly lets me trounce her on a regular basis at….

Words With Friends! I’m so addicted. I run to the computers in the cafe during my break to get a round in, and then I play it when I get home. It was worse—I would read books on my kindle and play words with friends on my nook. But somehow it quit working on my nook. So I don’t play into the wee small hours, and when I wake up at 2 or 3, I just go back to sleep instead of playing a round or two. Geesh. I sound like an addict, don’t I?

Writing. I love writing. Izzy and I absolutely MUST finish our books because I would love to not have to get up every morning at disgustingly early hours and go to work. I’d rather sleep until 10 a.m., putter around, and then write from 10 pm until 2 or 3 a.m. And get paid for it, I should probably add. I’m fond of money.

Weirdness.  I personally could never be called weird (ahem), but I have lots of friends and family who are weird beyond measure. (And the fact that I finally got down how to spell the word correctly from an episode of 21 Jump Street, where Johnny Depp, playing a very weird character, creepily told some chick that he always remembered that “we” are “weird.” That’s not weird at all. Nope.)

Whistling. I love to whistle, and do it frequently, to the not infrequent annoyance of those around me. Fortunately, my boss Mel whistles a lot, so we get along.  I also love watching Emmylou race around the place when I start whistling. It often leads to a good rousing game of “I’m gonna getcha,” which is both entertaining and exercising. Ish.

Waggy tails. Emmylou has a deliciously waggy tail. And a wiggly butt. It’s fun when we’re near the end of a game of I’m gonna getcha, and she’s on the bed halfway under the sheet, and as I slowly and menacingly draw nearer and nearer, her tail thumps faster and faster, and the sheet’s moving back and forth–awesome.

Wondering. I’m wondering what the heck I’m gonna do tomorrow for X day.

Over and out!

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Yes, it is I, the inimitable Chauceriangirl, able at last to post from my own lovely new laptop. We have had the dickens of a time with our computers at home–I managed to break the screen of my last laptop. My husband improvised and purchased a monitor that we hooked up and all seemed well, until Monday when my computer decided to give us the fatal error of death screen and figuratively rolled over and breathed its last.  Okay, I’m exaggerating a wee bit, but we did decide to buy a new computer and then we’ll get the other one working again and then Joe and I will each have our own laptop. That’s important, because sometimes he wants to check the weather whilst I want to play Words With Friends, or he wants to record music whilst I want to write a book. And so it goes.

Anyway, I said all that to say this: I’d like to thank the incomparable Izzybella for getting my posts up when my computer wasn’t cooperating. Let’s give her a big huzzah, shall we? Huzzah! Huzzah!

V things to like. Well, let’s start with….

Vagina. I’m a woman. Women tend to have vaginas, and we don’t always appreciate them like we should. And some people whisper the word, like it’s dirty or something. It’s not.  It’s a very important part of a woman’s body. Here’s to vaginas!

Vegetarian/Vegan. Ideally, I’d like to be vegan. I was, for a while, and enjoying it, but got off kilter and somehow never got back on. My husband finds my being veg*n unexplicable and for some reason thinks it’s unhealthy. He gets as upset about the word “vegan” as some people do about the word “vagina” (see above). But I have lots of lovely veg*n cookbooks, and enjoy cooking and eating a healthy veg*n diet, and if I were smart I’d get off my fat butt and do it.

Virginia. That used to be my first name, and I absolutely HATED it. Seriously? You do not want to be named Virginia when you’re in elementary and/or middle school, and possibly into high school. The elementary school stuff was mild–Virginia ham, etc. Then in jr high it was “Hiya, Virgin!” and then I’d say, “It’s not Virgin, it’s Virginia!” and then they’d say “Oh, so you’re NOT a virgin!” and it was all rather childish and immature and embarrassing because I was a teenage girl, after all.  I like the name well enough now, since it’s officially my first middle name. See, when I was born I was given a first name, a middle name, and then a last name. Then my brother comes along and gets a first name, a first middle name, a second middle name, and a last name. Then when the incomparable Izzybella made her arrival, she, too, got a first name, a first middle name, a second middle name, and a last name. I felt left out. Different. But it’s all good now. I have a first name, a first middle name, a second middle name, a maiden name, and a married last name. So there! Booyah!

Vinegar. You can do all kinds of interesting things with vinegar. Like if you have a sunburn, you can pour vinegar on the burn and it will take out the sting. If you make a mixture of hot water, honey, and apple cider vinegar, and drink it at night, it will help your allergies. Of course, if you do like I did and use Bragg’s organic apple cider vinegar, the mixture will, as Izzy so eloquently put it, smell like foot. And if you need buttermilk and don’t have any or if you need soured milk, just stir a little vinegar into your cow’s/soy/almond/rice milk, and let it set for a few minutes and voila! Soured milk! (Don’t look so disgusted–it makes all the difference in certain baked goods.)

Victoria. Queen. As in the episode of Doctor Who where the 10th Doctor and Rose get whisked away and have an encounter with Queen Victoria and a certain alien lifeform that could explain a LOT about Queen Victoria’s descendants. And for the record? She was not amused.

Victoria Rose Barrett. She’s a character in the book Izzy and I are currently writing, and I adore her. She is short and plump and says damn and hell a lot, and can’t cook worth a hill of beans, but she’s absolutely awesome!!!!

Is that a good batch of V words? Have I missed any of your favourites? Let me know!

And don’t forget to leave a comment if you want to win a True Blue CD by the awesome Pat Autrey!

I’m off to bed, so ta to you all, and tune in on Thursday for the wily wonderful world of W!

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U!

U

Unique & Unusual – it drives me absolutely bonkers when people mix these two words up.  Something can be extremely unusual, or highly unusual, or mildly unusual. But something is either unique, or it is not. It is highly unusual for Chauceriangirl to misuse the unique word, unique.  (It’s actually unheard of, but we won’t go there.)

Ugli fruit. May be ugly, but it’s dang good!

Umbrellas. I used to have a love-hate relationship with umbrellas. I loved them until the strongTexaswinds blew them inside out. But then I got smart and purchased a huge golf umbrella. It has room enough for two, and in the, what, 6 or 7 years I’ve had it has never once blown inside out. Yay for golf umbrellas!

Uninterested & Disinterested. Another set of words that people frequently mix up. If you’re uninterested in something, that means you have no interest in it. If you are disinterested, it means you have no personal bias or interest in a matter. So you want a judge to be disinterested, but you definitely do NOT want him to be uninterested. Unless you’re the perp, I suppose, in which case having the judge (and jury) be uninterested could possibly work in your behalf. Of course, the attorneys aren’t going to let that happen.

Un-.  A very helpful little prefix that can take many words and turn them into their reverse. Not all words, though. I mean, one isn’t unhungry or unsleepy.  But one can be unlicked, or unliked (two very different things—if you’re suffering from the former, may I suggest Urban Decay flavoured body dust; whilst if you’re suffering from the latter, you need to learn that not everyone will like you, and you need to move on to the next person. And make sure you’re doing your best to be likable. I’d probably like you—I like most people I meet.)

Undulating. I like the way that word sounds.

Upside-down cake. Mmmmm.  You make it in a cast iron skillet, with pineapple rings and cherries on the bottom layer, nummy cake, and you bake it, and it smells so dang good, and then when it’s done you turn it upside down, remove the skillet, and eat a piece, while it’s still nice and hot, with either ice cream or whipped cream.

Tune in tomorrow for V—which I hope to be able to type up on my brand new laptop I haven’t bought yet but shall after work. ❤

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