Category Archives: musings

A Dish Served Cold – Trifecta challenge

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She tried to grasp what he was saying but the words circled her head like cartoon birds, chirping incessantly.   She had lost track of how many times the conversation revolved around him and she continued to sip her wine.  She glanced casually around the restaurant looking for anything else to bring into the conversation but his words kept tumbling over themselves and boxing her ears with their abrasive nature.  She ordered another glass of wine.  He hadn’t even noticed and kept rambling.

His words slowly began to mutate.  She wasn’t sure if he was having trouble speaking or if the wine had dulled her senses to the point of not being able to distinguish syllables.  Regardless of the reason, she welcomed the new dulcet nature of his speech pattern and ordered another glass of wine.

The room seemed different somehow – like a special effect in a movie where only the centre of her vision was in focus and her peripheral was shrouded in shadows.  She thought she had heard him actually ask if she was okay but she could not form the words to respond.  He was suddenly beside her, placing his hand under her elbow and easing her out of the chair.  She wasn’t sure why but she felt compelled to oblige and stood beside him.  The world spun.

The last two things she would remember were the waitress giving her a smug look thinking that she drank too much and the feel of the cold metal barrel of the pistol burrowing into her rib cage.

***

Written for the Trifecta Challenge – And now, the weekly prompt.

GRASP (verb)
1: to take or seize eagerly

2: to clasp or embrace especially with the fingers or arms
Remember:
  • Your response must be between 33 and 333 words.
  • You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.
  • The word itself needs to be included in your response.
  • You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above.
  • Only one entry per writer.
  • If your post doesn’t meet our requirements, please leave your link in the comments section, not in the linkz.
  • Trifecta is open to everyone. Please join us.

– See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.w0RpD3hA.dpuf

Vampire Woes – Trifecta Challenge

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He didn’t know if he could perform his job with only one tooth.  He plunged into her throat and none of her life blood flowed.  This was going to be a long night.

~

Written for the weekend Trifecta challenge: Full disclosure: we’re going a bit weird on you with this weekend’s short prompt.  Trifecta editor Lisa has a son who just lost his first tooth.  In honor of such a creepy event, we want you to write a 33-word response that uses the word tooth.  Your response can use any definition of the word but cannot tell the story of someone losing a tooth.  (Because we just told that story, and it was pretty boring the first time.) – See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.IQsRrVT2.dpuf

Once around the sun

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“If I speak of myself in different ways, that is because I look at myself in different ways.”
― Michel de Montaigne

When I was thinking about writing this post I had no idea how I would begin but this quote made me think about how to write this in a whole different way.  Today is the one year anniversary of beginning my blogging journey on WordPress – my blogiversary.  Within the last 365 days I have certainly spoken in different ways and have come to see myself in very different ways.

Polysyllabic Profundities was born a year ago today.  In the 365 days that have preceded this post, I have watched it take its first tentative steps, pull itself up on furniture and crawl until it could walk.  It has developed a personality and challenged me on many levels.  It has drawn me into a circle of people who I am happy to call friends and it has allowed me to truly become myself again.

I feel a great freedom being able to express myself in the way I feel most comfortable.  Words soothe me.  For every emotion I have there is a plethora of words that will perfectly describe that feeling and I eagerly delve into the recesses of my brain, or my thesaurus, to find just the right one.   The sun sets each day, kissing the earth goodnight with its fading warmth and, as much pleasure as I get from seeing it, I feel more joy describing its descent into the blanket of the horizon with words.

As long as my imagination continues to wake me from my peaceful slumber, my words will continue to find their way to this page.  I am grateful for the ability to pontificate.  I am humbled by the responses I receive.  And I am blessed to have met so many wonderful people who I really do consider friends.  Thank you for spinning through this orbit with me and I look forward to being able to write something similar in another year.

Putting the driving back in my driving

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I have a new hero.  He doesn’t wear a cape, nor can he leap tall buildings in a single bound (at least not that I’ve seen).  He works at the Honda dealership I have been frequenting for many years and, each time I want to start shopping for a new car, he is always there to welcome me with a smile and a hug.

With my mother’s recent illness, we have been saddled with car payments for a car she was unable to drive.  My Uncle has been using the car and helping with the payment but the car was a giant noose around our necks and we had tried almost everything possible to sell it or get out of the lease.  Almost everything.  A random call to my hero last week put the wheels in motion, pardon the pun, and in 5 short days we traded in my vehicle as well as my mom’s car and I drove off the lot in a 2013 Civic with manual transmission.

I have been driving a 5-speed since I was seventeen years old.  I live in a small town with no bumper-to-bumper traffic so driving a stick-shift makes driving fun.  I wasn’t sure if I would stall heading off the lot yesterday but managing a clutch and shifting gears is just like riding a bicycle – it all came flooding back.

Thank you Peter Morrison for being the most caring and genuinely sweet people I have had the pleasure of doing business with.  And thanks for getting me into this!!

new car

Next time we have a battle of wits, I’ll arrive fully armed

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I am blessed with a very quick wit and I love making people laugh.  There is something truly endearing about changing the mood in a room with a few well placed lines of humor.  There is a palpable shift in energy and I like knowing that I am able to affect that energy.

As a teenager I used humor as a defense mechanism but as I grew out of that awkward phase I realized what a gift humor had become.  However, I am the first to admit when I am out-witted.  I try my absolute best to use my humor to spar with others of like minds but there are moments I feel I have not packed my full arsenal of quips and leave the room bested by another’s witty repartee.  I never see this as a loss, mind you, because the other people in the room still leave with a smile on their face and, if all has gone extremely well, some sore ribs and stomach muscles.

laughing

(image credit: countrydesignhome.com)

Being a goofball has its advantages and I am always striving to better my repertoire of amusing anecdotes.  Sparring with someone who has packed a bigger stockpile of witticism only makes me want to reload my depository and come better prepared for the next battle of wits.

The sharpener is ready to hone my sarcasm and my wit is a bubbling cauldron waiting to be stirred.  I am prepped for battle.

Words can be weapons

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Everyone is guilty of blurting out something they immediately wished they could take back.  But it’s out there, hanging over their head like a cartoon speech balloon that they can read over and over again.  The words haunt them, and while they hover in the air the letters, as if in slow motion, dissect and become daggers that hurtle themselves towards the intended victim. Whether it was their objective to be hurtful or not, that person undoubtedly didn’t take the time to think about how what they said would really affect the other person.

There is generally a five second window – a brief moment that you can write a rough essay before composing your final draft.  It gives you that precious time to edit what is said before it escapes your lips.  It’s called a filter. Some people have developed the ability to contain a response until it is processed through the many neurons that it should permeate. Others recklessly open that gaping threshold and spew the vile and heinous words that cut through their victim like a round of automatic gun fire.  The blast is quick and leaves many wounds, open and weeping, as the victim tries to rally and repair the damage.

You can’t take back stupid.  And you can’t take back detrimental. You can’t reel in the words that have been so carelessly cast into the churning river of a person’s sea of reality.  Once those sounds have escaped your lips the weight of their purpose hangs heavily on the one receiving the message and the damage has been done.

There may be an endless stream of apologies and begging for forgiveness from the assassin of the English language but memory is a funny thing. Although forgiveness may eventually be awarded, forgetting is not always an option.  And those deep, gaping wounds are carried with them for what could feel like an eternity.  That moment is replayed in their mind more than a thousand times.

You have the power to circumvent that atrocity from occurring. Take the time to think about what it is that you really want to convey.  You can be critical, but don’t be mean.  And if your comment serves no apparent purpose, than keep it to yourself.  Don’t inflict unnecessary suffering because you can’t find the right words.  Take your time and choose those words wisely.  During future battle you may be the one staring down the barrel of that automatic weapon of idioms the next time it is fired.

A battle of wills

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Whether I label it the “Defense of Defecation” or “The Protection of Poop”, either moniker defines the depth of how stubborn my dog can be.  In an earlier post I described the trauma she experienced last Thursday by running into a branch and puncturing her shoulder.  She is in a medi-vest and has a cone on her head which has led to our morning routine being completely altered.

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Most mornings Callaway had free reign of the nearly three acres we call home.  She chased squirrels, followed the scent of whatever vermin have graced our property in the wee hours and did her morning business where nobody could see her while I enjoyed a coffee on the deck.  That has all changed.

Each morning we now go out together, Callaway on a leash, me without coffee, and we attempt to find an appropriate spot for her to relieve herself.  To most dogs this is a mundane task that they are willing to do almost anywhere.  Not my dog.  Since the “incident” we spend an HOUR each morning, fighting off mosquitos and Deer Flies, trying to find a spot that she deems worthy and protected enough to be able to empty her bowel.  She will never shit on my lawn – that is an inarguable truth.  She will regard me with great disdain each time we circle the lawn, me with hopes that her opinion on this will change, she holding strong to her right to defile the back woods in anonymity.

The battle of wills continues.  Woman vs Dog.  The morning stand-off.  But she will always win because I am a pushover when it comes to my puppy dog.  Armed with only a hoodie and my good intentions, I shall respectfully follow her to where no man should go and turn a blind eye while she chooses the perfect spot to have her morning movement in peace.

Hello, Kettle? It’s pot calling. You’re black.

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Hypocrisy.  It lives and walks among us and it lurks in the very shadows in which we feel safe.  It feeds upon unsuspecting minds, clinging to the particles of grey matter that are most apt to ignore it.

Professing beliefs or ideals that you neither follow nor remotely understand is the most familiar definition but there is also the flip side of the hypocritical coin.  The admonishment of a habit or behavioural pattern that is so blatantly shared by the one pointing the finger is the one that is most commonly seen – at least by me.

But the ones making flagrant accusations are oblivious to the obvious.  They are standing so far out on the precipice of blindness that they are unaware that they are constantly living in a suspended state of hypocrisy.  And perhaps they truly can’t see the irony in pointing out the shortcomings of another when they represent the same qualities themselves.

Maybe the pot calling the kettle black is a mere distraction technique.  If the focus is shifted in a different direction, the pot will never receive the negative repercussion to which it should so rightly be subjected.  Panning the camera for a close up on the kettle potentially leaves the pot completely out of the picture.

But a word of caution to the pot – even though you may try to use the kettle as a scapegoat to alleviate any personal discomfort, bear in mind that there are many other pots and pans in your proverbial pantry and they see right through the facade.  The very ashes that charred the surface of the kettle are mirrored on the exterior of your pot.  Before you are so quick to judge make sure that your extraneous covering is free from any soot before you bring the kettle into the mix.

A Mere Player – Trifextra Challenge

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“All the world’s a stage.”    The words would ring in her ears bearing a remarkable parallel to something she could not grasp.  If only imagination would water her reality and make it grow.

~

Written for the weekend Trifextra Challenge:  On now to this weekend’s Trifextra challenge.  This weekend we are giving you three words and asking for you to give us back another thirty of your own, making a grand total of thirty-three words. Your words to work with are: ring, water, stage

I almost mastered nothingness

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Everyone is entitled to have a lazy day every once in a while.  It recharges our batteries and gives us a much-needed to chance to store up the energy needed to face the days that follow it. Sometimes we just feel unproductive and unmotivated – and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that, within reason. If your lazy days start turning into lazy weeks, you may want to rethink your strategy.

I used to have a real problem letting myself sit and do nothing. My brain always kicked into the guilt gear and I was forced to get off the couch and do all the things that were nagging at me from the back of my cranium.  I’m over that.  I am now able to embrace the feeling of not accomplishing a single thing.  There certainly are moments of boredom encompassed in that lazy day, but if I take that moment to remember the fast pace of any other day, that boredom is replaced by bliss.

(image credit: Bill Watterson)

The lazy day becomes about taking time for me and not stressing myself out if the laundry doesn’t get sorted or the dust accumulates for one more day.  Although today was not a completely lazy day.  After giving myself permission to actually sleep in, I did clean the house and I vacuumed the inordinate amount of dog hair from my carpet that seems to increase exponentially!!  But the rest of it was spent in a suspended state of oblivion…..and it was just what the doctor ordered.  I focused on what I needed instead of what needed to be done.

Those rest of those chores will still be beckoning  me tomorrow, but today the deck furniture and the couch won the argument.  Today is about my three favorite “R” activities – reading, red wine and regurgitating the countless words that whirl around in my brain. (there may be a movie thrown in for good measure)

I hope you all take the time to let yourself breathe – spend a lazy day doing the little things that make you feel human again.  And if you have any suggestions for things to do on that day of nothingness…..feel free to send along some suggestions…..I’m always looking for new ways to achieve lethargy!!