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

- Graycie Harmon

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Foot Fine, Hilarity Observed

Well finally the weather has improved a little. The Arctic blasts that have swept through Ottawa for the past week have died down. It was so lovely outside, I could get away with my short faux leather jacket and a scarf for protection. It's promising to be a very lovely day... and I'm stuck inside.

Le sigh.

In writing news, there isn't any. I'm taking the week off to rest my mind a little. It's also to let other story ideas percolate a little. I have a project in my head that's one of these "just 'cause I want to" kind of projects. If I go through with it, it will be made free. I don't want to spoil it, just in case I find I'm not allowed to do it, so I'm not telling you more than that. You'll just have to sit tight and ponder at what I might be referring to [insert evil laugh].

Since there is nothing else to say, here's today's Forgotten English:

Shruff

Light rubbish wood; a perquisite to hedgers. Norfolk and Suffolk.
- Samuel Pegge's Supplemental Glossary, c. 1800

Refuse, esp. for burning; light refuse wood, cinders, etc. used for fuel.
- Sir James Murray's New English Dictionary, 1897

Shruffe, the undergrowth of the swamps; shruffey meadowe, shruffey upland. Dedham Records, 1659-1660.
- George Krapp's English Language in America, 1925.

Off to watch more BBC comedy panel shows. I just can't get enough! Enjoy this lovely warming Wednesday, everyone!

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