Being an author is like being in charge of your own personal insane asylum.

- Graycie Harmon

Monday, January 24, 2011

Monday, or This Post is Late

Of course this post is late. It's Monday, the computer is running all sorts of scans, it's bitterly cold outside (but at least there's sun!).... I'd be pretty unhappy too, if I was a computer.

The weekend was quite lovely. Again, due to family obligations on the part of our coach, there was no Lion Dance training on Saturday. Thus, I scored another sleep in. This is becoming a bad habit. I'll not be able to get up when there is Lion Dance training!

The afternoon saw me teaching Kung Fu, again. I acquired a new student but lost two old ones. You can't see me right now, but I'm making a sad face.

That evening was the birthday celebration of my dear friend, T.H. It was crazy fun - a return to the birthday parties we had as children, complete with loot bags. The loot bags created a silly amount of fun. Not only were there lollies inside, but also a paddle ball, a bottle of bubble solution, and glow sticks. After trying, and failing miserably, to master the paddle ball, the lights went out and a miniature rave (minus the drugs) took place.

Then we discovered the Xbox Kinnect. Now that was crazy fun! My favourite has to be the obstacle course. It was more of a work-out than the Wii (largely because you could, and had to, jump)!

Writing-wise, I have set aside my novel for now to work on a short story for a contest my dear friend A.H. brought to my attention. I wrote the short story in a matter of hours on Friday. It's all written, I just have to go back and edit and possibly rewrite. That is my task. Deadline for submission is February 4th. I should have it in long before then.

I had best get editing.

Before I leave, however, I haven't forgotten today's Forgotten English word:

A bleak, cold place. A place where the frost wind finds easy admittance. Also a person with a saucy air - as much thinking that he does not care a damn for the world . . . He passes the poor with a sneer, and capsizes the infirm with a laugh - his bosom is a bleak place, a bensle - cold unfeeling blasts whistle round his frozen heart.
- John Mectaggart's Scottish Gallovidian Encyclopedia, 1824

So, Ottawa would be a bensle today...


KuietKelticGirl said...

Nawh, I wouldn'd say Ottawa is bleak. Cold, definitely, but not bleak. The CBC interviewed a guy who's job is to stand out on a street corner bright and early in the morning for 3 hours to hand out newspapers, and he was surprisingly chipper about the experience.

It seems the word bensle has been replaced with "Scrooge" or "Grinch"; the person description is the same.

And yes, loot bags rule. I must remember to take mine into work tomorrow.

S.M. Carrière said...

Ottawa looked pretty bleak with hardly anyone out on the streets!

It's funny how thing names are replaced with character/person names in English. The same can be said of brand names. For example, in Canada a tissue is now called a Kleenex. In Australia, we'd ask for a biro, meaning a pen.

Funny, the English language!