Okay, Daddy, you can go ahead and scratch this particular post offa your list of things to read now.
Inspiration comes in all forms and at varying speeds. I guess sometimes, the spark that pushes creativity will sneak up on someone; not so much for me. I've always been floored, waylayed in a big way by -- okay, I'll say it -- men.
Hi. My name's Tracy and I'm a sucker.
I'll leave you to your own disturbed thoughts there for a minute. Then remember that I have family and even church friends who follow this blog.
Where did that connotation of that word come from anyway?
The meaning is gullibility.
Sociolinguistics was one of my favorites classes in college. Too bad you can't make a living as a sociolinguist. I guess this is as close as I can get -- amused by words and blathering on about them in public. (If you're like me, here's a nice little snackpage on our beloved Wikipedia...)
Take "gander" as an example.
There's "taking a gander" as in surveying that shin-deep yard of mine.
There's "what's good for the goose is good for the gander" in terms of all things being equal. And since my bigger self likes to try and hold on to the belief that what is, is, and therefore it's good, I wind up thinking "equal" is just a mindgame we play with ourselves anyway.
And finally, of course, there's the thoroughbred horse who won a race but was disqualified for being riderless. Go figure. (Watch what a spirited, albeit "a bit problematic" creature can do when nature and nurture combine just so, and the controls are taken off.)
The other day, one of my editors (yes, I did just use the plural form of 'editor') pointed out a difference in consequential yard care when comparing the burbs to the country. There, you get letters and fines, maybe even taken to court, for not mowing your lawn just so. My own H3 used to carefully mow the front "on the bias" -- so help me. (Some people are more afraid of broken rules than others.)
Here, though, the consequence of not keeping your green growin' stuff clipped short is one of your neighbors' calves being killed by a rattlesnake.
So far, I need both hands to count the number of new neighbors who've mentioned the unusually high abundance of long, slithering, poisonous creatures they've killed this year. Kinda funny, since none of them really know me yet... But then, there's been even more of my recent acquaintances who've assured me that a gun is a must-have item around these parts.
Now, I truly do love snakes and have no desire to do them harm, whether via blasted pellets or a hoe to the neck (do snakes have necks?), but I also don't want to be harmed by them. So I'm thinkin the answer is to not give the sneaky biters any deep stuff to hide in -- a little extra toilin' on my part, but that way I can see 'em as they pass through on to the grasses of the less vigilant.
"A gander if e'er there was," he said. [Editor's note: "...pretty sure that snakes are all neck."]
No, not him. Him.