Old Woman's Luck

Have the wind in one's face both going and returning; Oxfordshire.

- Joseph Wright's English Dialect Dictionary, 1898-1905

Good Bye, An Author's Journey. It was wonderful!

Tachydidaxy

A short method of teaching.

- Joseph Worcester's Dictionary of the English Language, 1881

Giglet

A merry. light-hjearted, playful, romping girl; a giddy, silly, thoughtless girl; a wanton, a strumpet. Hence, gigleting, laughing in a foolish manner; trifling behavior.

- Joseph Wright's English Dialect Dictionary, 1898-1905

Giglot, a female laughing or playing wantonly.

- Walter Skeat's Specimens of English Dialects, Westmoreland, 1879

"Away with those giglets too, and with the other confederate companion."

- William Shakespeare's Measure for Measure, 1604

Bulkateer

A person who judges by the bulk or size, and overlooks the real merit.

- Maurice Weseen's Dictionary of American Slang, 1934

Climacteric

By the climacteric system, seven years was declared to be the termination of childhood; fourteen the term of puberty; twenty-one of adult age; thirty-five, or five times seven, as the height of physical and bodily strength. At forty-nine the person was said to have reached the height of his mental strength or intellectual powers; at sixty-three, or nine times seven, he was said to have reached the grand climacteric.

- T. Ellwood Zell's Popular Encyclopedia of knowledge and Language, 1871

Dwale

Error, delusion; deceit; heretic, deceiver [c. 900-1300; related to] Old English dwela, dweola, and dwala, error, heresy, madness. Dwal-kenned, heretical.

- Sir James Murray's New English Dictionary, 187

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

It's Christmas Day!

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Pig-Cheer

The word is used in Yorkshire, and applied especially to dishes make from the viscera of the pig. Christmas was formerly, as now, the principal season for pig-cheer.

- T. Lewis' Davies' Supplementary English Glossary, 1881

It's Christmas Eve! MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Saying Good-Bye

But first, SNOW!

Now that I've gotten that out of my system, there's much news to impart. Firstly, that this is my last day at work before the Christmas holidays. I shall depart for the rest of the year, and return in January.

As I've tried to do in the past year, I shall continue to post the daily Forgotten English words everyday until the end of the year. However, I won't be physically around to do so. I'll be using blogger's magical abilities by writing them out now, and having them automatically post on the appropriate day.

Then, it's goodbye to blogger altogether. Don't panic. It's not goodbye to all of you altogether. Well, unless you don't like change and don't follow me to the new www.smcarriere.com, which is all set to launch when I return from holidays January 3rd. Expect some glitches January 1st and 2nd as I struggle to figure out how to switch the sites. I don't think the site will be quite ready for launch in January - there's still some stuff on the business end to figure out - but I'm launching it anyway, even if it's just the blog portion. The other stuff should all be finished long before the end of January in any case.

I'm excited, and terrified and a little stressed - just when I thought there wasn't much else to be done, I realise I have a TONNE of work still to do before this new thing goes live. I feel like I'm headed in the right direction, though. Squee! Also, gah!

Alright, so, all I can say is stay tuned. The new smcarriere.com is coming. *Cue ominous music.

In case none of you will be online in the near future, I'm wishing you a very Merry Christmas and the most astonishing, splendid 2012 possible!

Much love!

Davered

Wandering in mind; silly, senseless. Davering, riding of walking in a dazed condition. Scotland, Northern England.

- Joseph Wright's English Dialect Dictionary, 1898-1905

Thy heart is like the daver'd rose.

- Edward Capern's Poems, 1864

Daverdly, dowdy, unkempt.

- Sir James Murray's New English Dictionary, 1893

Happily Resting

This week and last week were hectic at best. Now with everything more or less settled, I can relax a bit. I'm doing this to day by listening obsessively to The Piano Guys. If you've never heard of them (their vidoe Cello Wars went viral a fortnight ago), here are two of my favourite songs they've released:

And my favourite-est ever (sigh):

Ahhhh..... I heart them so much. Honestly, it's an addiction. I can't stop listening to them. Luckily, I don't have to.

On that note (pun only marginally intended), I'm going to sit back and listen to beautiful music, and probably do some Beta Reading.

Have a great Thursday all!

Kissing-Bunch

A bush of evergreens sometimes substituted for mistletoe at Christmas.

- Thomas Wright's Dictionary of Obsolete and Provincial English, 1857

The old "kissing bunch" is still hung in some of the old-fashioned cottage houses of Derbyshire and Cornwall - two wooden hoops, one passing through the other, decked with evergreen, in the centre of which is hung a "crown" of rosy apples and a sprig of mistletoe. This is hung from the central beam of the living-room, and underneath it is much kissing an romping. Later on, the carol singers stand beneath it and sing God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen.

- Peter Ditchfield's Old English Customs, 1901

You Know You've Made it When...

You get an emailed solicitation for a one of your manuscripts, only to discover the solicitation is not quite as wonderful as it seems.

Last week I received an email from 'new international publishing house JustFiction! Edition' requesting I send in my manuscript for The Great Man.

(A clue to other solicitors, The Great Man is the single most precious thing I've written. Sure, I hate it more often than not. Sure it gives me nightmares and prevents a good night's sleep. Sure, I've cried over more character deaths than I care to admit in public. All the same, it's a precious, precious story. I don't mess around when people ask to see it.)

Thanks to my naturally suspicious nature, my first reaction was, literally, 'Hmm.' So, I typed in the name of the editor and the 'publishing company.' I found this.

Wow. Thanks sfwa.org and Victoria Strauss for saving my manuscript, and thus myself, from certain doom.

Far from being disappointed, I was thrilled. These fools think I am a writer! Mwah hah hah hah hah hah! Honestly, I feel I have now graduated to the middle ranks of aspirants.

Look out publishing world! I'm moving on up!

Bristol Man's Gift

A present of something which the giver pronounces to be of no use or of no value to himself.

- Henry Reddall's Fact, Fancy, and Fable, 1889

Gry, anything of little value, as the pairings of the nails.

- Samuel Johnson's Dictionary of the English Language, 1755

All Together?

I was having a chat last night after J.M-B., her sister K. M-B. and our friend A.L. gathered to put up the Christmas tree.

Well, better late than never.

A.L. noted that it sounded like I had everything all sorted out, altogether and properly lined up here on this blog. My reaction was pure astonishment.

Sorted out? Altogether? Hells no!

I'm freaking out!

The truth of the matter is, I'm not anywhere near as organised or sorted out as I've apparently made myself seem. I just did the things I did last week and this week because they needed to get done for me to move forward with my devious plans. I have NO idea what I'm doing. Zip. Zero. Zilch.

I'm quite literally stumbling over my own clumsy feet as I bumble through this life. I came across my passion for writing, and the desire to make it my living a little late in the game - after I'd graduated from university. I'm still a bit up in the air about that. I want to continue with my academic pursuits as well, but the Master's degree I want is prohibitively expensive (CAD21 000.00), and overseas. Without a steady homestead and unwilling to leave a flatmate who is, frankly, an incredibly awesome flatmate, in the lurch, following my academic interests is a little tricky at the moment.

Want to donate? C'mon! It's a good cause.

I shake my head at myself. Reduced to pan-handling online. I think that's a new low for me.

There are other things I really want to do with my life. I have a tonne of other interests and ideas that are screaming for an outlet. I can see these all clearly. I just have no idea how to get there. This small little side venture I'm currently trying to organise is just a teeny tiny step on the way... and it's terrifying and difficult and I am pretty much winging it as I go.

All this to say, despite looking like I know what I'm doing and that I have all my stuff together, I really, really, really don't. So don't despair if you feel lost. Chances are, even the most put together person you see is feeling that way too.

The moral of the story, if a scatterbrained scaredy-cat like me can do it, so can you! Make your dreams come true. Wishing stars can only do so much.

Indignagger

To argue with a master.

- Morris Marple's University Slang, 1950

And the Plot Thickens

There really isn't a plot. There is a plan though. My business plan. I'm currently in the process of fixing up the business plan I wrote Friday to send to the grants people. If I'm very lucky, they'll decide to award me with a small business grant, and then I can buy the equipment and get started.

I'm not sure what the turn around time for the grant is, so I might not be prepared to launch in January. I might be. Who knows? In any case, the blog will be moved January.

In the mean time, I have a whole whack of stuff to learn about marketing and business and so forth, so I'll also be doing a whole bunch of research.

Which means, I won't be writing today. Or this week, probably. And with next week on holidays, I won't be getting back to writing at all until January... and by then, hopefully everything would have settled down.

I'm very busy, but not busy writing. I think that might be a good thing. It lets me think and generate ideas and doing a different kind of work is really very restive.

Well, I should go and actually start work. Have a fantastic Monday everyone!

Bastard-Scurvey

A kind of leprosy.

- John Brand's Brief Description of Orkney, Zetland, Pightland-Firth and Caithness, 1883

Vernissage

A day before the exhibition of painting on which exhibitors may retouch and varnish their pictures already hung. A private view of paintings before public exhibition. [From the French word vernis, varnish.]

- Sir James Murray's New English Dictionary, 1928

Varnishing-day, a day before the opening of a picture exhibition, on which exhibitors have the privilege of retouching their pictures on the walls.

- William Whitney's Century Dictionary, 1889

So Very Busy Not Writing

Yesterday was an insanely productive day. The work wasn't writing, but it was related to making my writing a career. That is to say, making my income solely from my writing and artistic ventures. It won't happen overnight, obviously, and I have a tonne of stuff to learn about marketing and so forth, but it will happen eventually. It will.

This is completely new territory for me, and it's a little terrifying but I'm well on my way to making it happen.

I spent all of yesterday setting myself up so that I comply with Canada's tax regulations. Actually, I went a bit beyond to ensure that everything was alright. As a small supplier, I won't really be required to collect and remit the provincial taxes, but I voluntarily registered to do so because it's more convenient for the customer.

I'm still waiting on Manitoba on why their online system failed to recognise my telephone number, but as soon as that's sorted, I should be cleared to sell in all provinces. I was not going to sell to Quebec or Prince Edward Island as the way they calculate their taxes cannot be done in my teeny tiny back-end software here, BUT, I'm reconsidering.

Since I am a small (really, really, really small) supplier and am not obligated to collect and remit the provincial taxes in these places, I might sell to them and just charge the GST. It's less convenient for the customers living in those provinces, as they have to work out and remit the PST (QST in Quebec) themselves. Oh well, blame your provincial governments, people!

Today will be spent researching funding options.

On that note, I should hop to it! Have a great weekend everyone. I'll see you all Monday.

Tutting

A landlady who wished to have a tutting gave notice of her intention to all her female acquaintances, whether married or single. At the hour specified, the visitors were regaled with tea but on the removal of that, the table was replenished with a bowl and glasses and exhilarated with potent punch, when each guest became a new creature. At this time the husbands and sweethearts arrived, paid their half guinea each for the treatment of themselves and partners, joined the revelry, and partook of the amusements. This custom, which was confined to the lower orders, is now very properly almost abandoned.

- J.E. Brogden's Pronvincial Lincolnshire Words and Expressions, 1866

Recovery Time

Yesterday was hell.

Such incredible, stupid, unmanageable hell.

It was so very hellish that when my flatmate called to find out what was going on, I promptly burst into tears.

It's a work matter, not a writing one (Oh, how I long for the day when writing is my work!) , so I'm not going to go into detail here. Needless to say, it was a terrible, terrible, terrible day.

Obviously, no writing was done. No writing will be done today, either. Or tomorrow. I'm giving myself the rest of the week off writing. Luckily for me, I have a project that will keep me occupied, and while it isn't writing, it is related to my writing future. So I won't feel like I'm totally slacking off.

Right, I'm off to catch up and get to work. Hopefully today will be much better.

Animadversion

Serious consideration or observ[ation].

- Nathaniel Bailey's Etymological English Dictionary, 1749

A taking notice of a fault with some degree of anger, severity, or dispatch.

- Daniel Fenning's Royal English Dictionary, 1775

An observation made upon a book after duly examining into the merits of it.

- Thomas Dyche's New General English Dictionary, 1740

Reproof; severe censure.

- John Walker's Critical Pronouncing Dictionary, 1835

Changes Are A-Coming

Yep. I can kinda feel it looming, that giant Godzilla-monster of change. It's a fairly major change that will, I'm afraid, mean the end of An Author's Journey. Don't fear (or perhaps fear, depending on how you feel about my posts), I'll still have a blog. It will still be found at smcarriere.com.

It just won't be this blog here. It'll be part of a slightly larger site - a site with a forum and a calendar and - get this - an online store. For me to sell stuff in. Eventually.

There's so much work still to be done, and the change is going to be substantial enough that I'm worried about it. However it's a change that must, I'm afraid, happen if I'm going to get anywhere towards my goal. Blogging and writing alone just isn't enough.

Of course, all of this is going to need more marketing. I'm not sure how to pull that off yet.

We'll just have to see. Right now I'm chewing my nails with fret as I get all the stuff together. Hopefully it will all pay off.

I'm off to try and write something today.

Walkist

One who participates in a walking match.

- William Craigie's Dictionary of American English, 1940

As soon as the door is once opened to such abominations. . . a whole host of similar terms should rush in and try to make a lodgement. Hence no sooner had men's ears become somewhat accustomed to hear a pedestrian called a walkist, than the man whose rifle brought down the largest amount of game became known as a famous shootist.

- M. Schele de Vere's Americanisms: The English of the New World, 1872

Doing What I Can

Following on from yesterday's post, I'm still at a loss for what else to do. I'm terrible at the whole marketing thing. I'm not comfortable with screaming, 'LOOK AT MY BOOK. BUY IT. IT'S GRAND.'

Perhaps the book is spectacular.

Perhaps it's utter crap.

But that's for the reader to decide. One of my pet peeves is to always be blasted by people telling you that their product is the best thing out there.

Apparently, that's what you have to do in marketing, and I despise it. A lot.

My dream is that my writing will speak for itself, and people will willingly talk about it and recommend it to others.

And I won't have to be a pushy salesperson.

Still, no one is talking about it, or recommending it (as near as I can tell)... and they're not doing it because I cannot market effectively.

It's so annoying.

The thing is, I've researched marketing. I read, and read, and read on the subject. None of it sinks in. I remember facts about pre-history I've learned years and years ago, but nothing about the pamphlet on marketing I read yesterday.

ARGH!

I'm frustrated. Not at you, readers. You're not the problem. I am.

I'm doing what I can, and it's not enough.

Le sigh.

Right, on with writing. Have a good Tuesday everyone!

Outherod

To excel or exceed in bombast, magniloquence, or violence. From the character of Herod who, in the old miracle plays, was always represented as arrogant.

- Edward Lloyd's Encyclopaedic Dictionary, 1895

No, Thank-You... I Think

So I've been forced into a lot of thinking this weekend, largely due to a post by my friend and fellow author Gerard de Marigny. He put up a post about Mr. Konrath, the self-publishing sensation, and something he said.

We butted heads over the interpretation of Mr. Konrath's advice (I read it as being entirely more sinisterly self-serving that Mr. de Marigny, to his credit, did). It was, essentially, work your butt off and forget everything else - at all (friends, family, and if they loved you, they'd put up with your neglect.).

I most vehemently agree that any author should be working their behinds off in order to get themselves off the ground. I don't agree that one should have to sacrifice everything else all the time.

No downtime - needed to collect my thoughts, percolate ideas, eat, breathe and remind myself why I write? No time for friends or family? No, thank-you! Life was made for living and I adore writing. I don't want to turn it into something that I despise for taking my time away from all the good things I have.

But then, Mr. Konrath has sold millions of copies. I've managed to sell one paperback, and roughly 7 e-books, so what the hell would I know, right?

And that's what has me thinking. What more could I be doing right now?

On that note, I have a six book series to finish writing, and I'm not nearly as finished as I should be! On to work!

Higgler

One who sells provisions from door to door; one who buys fowls, butter, eggs, &c. in the country and brigs them to town to sell. [From] higgle, to beat down the price of a thing in a bargain; to sell provisions from door to door. Hence higgledy-piggledy, corrupted from higgle, higglers carrying a confused medley of provisions; in a disorderly manner.

- Daniel Fenning's Royal English Dictionary, 1775

Fidicinales

With anatomists, the muscles of the fingers called lumbricales, from the use they are put to by musicians in playing some instruments.

- Nathaniel Bailey's Etymological English Dictionary, 1749

From fidicen, a harper.

- Richard Hoblyn's Medical Dictionary, 1859

Fidicinal, of or pertaining to a player on stringed instruments.

- Sir James Murray's New English Dictionary, 1901

Friday!

T.G.I.F! That is all that can be said for today.

I only managed 1 000 words yesterday. That's alright. Combined with Wednesday's marathon write, I still made enough to reach my end of week target. I'm starting to feel burnt out, I think.

It's a good thing, then, that I am taking today off!

With nothing more spectacular to say, I'll let you all get on with your days.

Have a great weekend!

Lime-Juicers

A nickname current among seafaring men for the sailors of the British merchant marines. [Now limey.]

- Henry Reddall's Fact, Fancy, and Fable, 1889

Sign Please?

I wrote 5 000 words yesterday.

I just wanted to put that down. It makes me smile.

Yesterday evening, after my physio appointment, I was treated to dinner by my friend K.R. K.R. is the only person to have bought a physical copy of The Dying God & Other Stories since it came out. Yup, I have a sale of 1.

That's all beside the point.

The purpose of the dinner, other than to hang out and rant about life, was to have me sign the copy she bought. It was really, really... weird. It was just weird. I felt so embarrassed signing the book. I don't know why. It just was embarrassing.

Flattering, too. I mean, I didn't mind signing for her at all.

It was just... famous people sign stuff. I'm not famous, or even mildly popular... I'm just... well, me. Signing something (that I wrote) for someone, even though she was my friend, and I was very flattered, just felt... weird.

Here's what I want to know - if there's anyone even mildly famous who has ever been approached for a signature that has happened across this post for some obscure reason, does it ever stop feeling so damned odd?

Cormmorant

Abiding, dwelling, resident. Of water, standing, not running away. Adapted from Latin commorantem, to tarry, abide.

- Sir James Murray's New English Dictionary, 1893

Accidental Research

I've just recently read an article about psychopaths. Turns out, they're everywhere, in higher concentration in the top ranks of muti-national corporations (who is surprised, really?) and they are adept at playing the game. The thing is, all the behaviours I read about in this article I have seen in co-workers in various jobs.

They are, it turns out, adept at mimicking normal emotive behaviours, but are incapable of experiencing emotions in the same way normal people are. They use what they know to manipulate the situation, and are more than willing to use one's empathy against one.

This is because they are genetically predisposed to psychopathic behaviours. Their amygdala (the place in the brain responsible for processing emotion and emotive responses) is underdeveloped - actually smaller than in a normal person - and, in extreme cases, what is there is not functioning correctly.

In short, they feel zero empathy and actually derive pleasure in seeing other people upset. These are the crazies who tear others down and pretend to be sad about it, when everyone else knows they do it for fun.

You know the advice the article gave for those facing a psychopath at work? Do not engage. They're better at the game than you. Run. Run far, far, far away.

I know a few people who match this description. In any case I can use this article. This article, which I can't find now, damn it, is filed in memory box 'Useful Information That Could Inform a Character One Day.'

How I love accidental research!

Dog-Latin

Barbarous Latin, such as was formerly used by lawyers in their pleadings, Now applied to 'medical Latin.'

- John Hotten's Slang Dictionary, 1887

Also kitchen-, bog-, or apothecaries'-Latin.

- John Farmer's Slang and Its Analogues, 1905

No Dreams

I had absolutely no dreams last night or early this morning. I was highly disappointed.

I think, however, that it might be because I've started writing again after a short hiatus when I just couldn't seem to write at all. I made my daily 3 000 words for the first time in three days, and I have the next scene all planned out. I should be making it again today. It takes the pressure off some to know that I have the length of a novel, albeit short, already.

Also, I'd like to declare publicly, not for the first or the last time, that I have the best flatmate in the world. Sorry I woke you up. You are awesome.

There really isn't much else to say. I'd best get on with writing then. Have a great day.

Dildrums

Childhood nonsense. "To tell Doldrums," to talk wildly.

- Walter Skeat's Specimens of English Dialects, Westmoreland, 1879

Dildrams, strange tales; especially in the phrase to tell dildrams. Lancashire.

- Joseph Wright's English Dialect Dictionary, 1898-1905

That's so weird. I always thought doldrums was to feel sad or down, as in "You have the doldrums, darling?" Is that later usage or am I completely insane? Someone? Anyone?

Strange Dreams, Strange Feeling

That strange feeling that something amazing is going to happen is still with me today. I can't understand it, but hey, I like it!

On a less happy, but no less strange note, my spate of really odd dreams continues. This time, two friends (T.H. and K.C.), a famous music personality (none other than Lady GaGa. No, seriously), a character from a T.V. show (Prince Charming from the show Once Upon a Time), a whole bunch of strangers and I were all involved in a Hunger Games style competition that started out with each of us camping. In the same spot.

K.C., T.H. and myself ended up (somehow) all in a run-down fun house. We had split up earlier on, and all ended up there. I was searching around the house, torch and all, when I came across a mouse. Somehow, I knew that mouse was actually K.C. who, it turns out, was a Harry Potter style animagus in this dream. Because we're friends, I simply smiled at the mouse frozen by fear (or possibly my torch's light) on the windowsill and said, 'Don't worry. I won't tell anyone.' Then I left the room.

I don't know why K.C. turned himself into a mouse. The man's got kick-arse Kung Fu skills. I digress.

I hear some noises and go investigate and Lady GaGa, in full monster outfit, is attacking T.H., who isn't doing so well. So I kill Lady GaGa. Yep. Twisted dream.

(I'd just like to point out here, as an aside, I don't hate Lady GaGa. In fact, I quite like her music - it's catchy and fun to dance to. I also adore her costumes as works of art. I'd never wear them, but whatever. To each their own. For the record, Lady GaGa, I'm really sorry I killed you in my dream. To be fair, you were trying to kill one of my friends.)

There was an awkward moment when T.H. and I faced each other, then we just nodded, and went our separate ways.

T.H. died later, but I didn't have time to feel sad about it because I was in the middle of helping Prince Charming battle a dragon (I know where this came from. In last night's episode of Once Upon a Time, Prince Charming battled a dragon). To be honest, it was less a dragon than a weird human-dragon hybrid.

The pair of us manage to get the dragon-man thing weakened, but really angry. We, in identical armour, I might add, stand side by side in preparation for the final charge, when some guy, also in identical armour, throws a knife straight into the dragon-man's throat, killing him.

I turn around and though I don't recognise the guy, I know he's not on our side.

And that's when I woke up.

There you go. Analyse that!

With my imagination in full, freakish bloom, I will now go and write. Until tomorrow, then!

Necrologist

One who gives an account of deaths.

- Noah Webster's American Dictionary of the English Language, 1828

Maturescent

Waxing ripe.

- Nathaniel Bailey's Etymological English Dictionary, 1727

Approaching maturity. From Latin maturesco, to become ripe.

- Daniel Lyons' American Dictionary of the English Language, 1897

The Inexplicable Feeling

Good morning!

I am in fine spirits this morning. It's weird. I shall tell you why it's weird.

Yesterday I got a bit of a shock. Those of you who saw my rant of Facebook already know about it. The cause of the rant went something like this:

Part of my job is to make sure that the office never runs out of coffee (God forbid!), sugar, milk, cream, paper towels... you know, things every kitchenette requires. So, yesterday afternoon, around about 3:30, I put a sign up on my computer screen to tell everyone that I had headed out to shop for office supplies.

When I returned with two barrels of coffee (it was on sale) and dish-washing liquid, I noted that someone had, very childishly, crossed out the words 'office supplies' and scribbled in 'Christmas.'

Really? Really?! What's next? An 'I do personal errands on company time' note stuck to my back?

Not only was the defacing of that sign incredibly infantile (no-one above the age of ten ought to find that amusing), but it was actually quite vicious. You see, though I laughed at first, I realised that the person who did that obviously has a very low opinion of me, and likely wanted others to as well.

For the record, if anyone from work happens to stumble across this post, I do not use company time to do personal errands. I save that for lunch time or the weekend or after work if I have time. I usually don't, but that's entirely beside the point.

If the purpose was to get me in trouble with management, then you're a tool, sign defacer. I think it highly unlikely that either of them are foolish enough to fall for that. I'm quite certain that they see right through it. Yes, management has been informed.

I was furious yesterday afternoon.

What pea-brained, infantile moron does that sort of thing?

I probably wouldn't have been as furious as I was were it not for the fact that, at the moment, I am the target of some pretty intense bullying at work. I generally don't let it phase me, but there are days when I just feel like kicking some teeth in.

Anyway, this morning I woke feeling amazing. It was snowing outside when I woke, and everything was so pretty and white. I had slept so well. I had, and currently have, this feeling that everything is going to be incredible.

I have that inexplicable feeling that life is right on track, that I'm doing the right thing, that all my dreams will come true if I can keep it up.

Weird.

I get like this every so often... less often than I'd like. It's a bit like my extremely down moments. I get those more frequently, but whatever.

I might be slightly manic.

In any case, today is a wonderful day. Things are afoot that will bring me what I need when I need it.

Deciding that today was a great day to spread the love (even to the bullies), I borrowed my flatmate's Santa hat and am rockin' the Christmas spirit at work. I have plans to decorate... oh, it's going to be wonderful!

No one is allowed to be grumpy today!

On that note, have a wonderful weekend, and I'll see you Monday!

Wedge-Floating

Concentrated, strong. There is an old saying that camp cooks test coffee by dropping an iron wedge into the pot. If the edge floats, the coffee is too strong. Ozarks.

- Vance Randolph's Down in the Holler, 1953

Hello December!

So.... how are you all doing?

I'm well. I didn't write yesterday. At all. I decided to give myself the day to rest, read, watch a T.V. show (during my lunch hour), daydream and other miscellaneous things.

You know what I've discovered?

Taking a day off when I'm neither worn out nor finished is an incredibly boring, unsatisfying thing to do.

So it's back to writing for now. If I finish this book this month, that means that the whole series would have been finished. Well, the first draft of it anyway.

Surely that should motivate me.

Yeah... no. Writing today is going to be like dragging a mule. Oh well. At least I won't get bored.

Happy first of December everyone.

Fause-House

A vacancy in a stack for preserving corns.

- John Jamieson's Etymological Dictionary of the Scottish Language, 1808

When the corn is in a doubtful state by being too green or wet, the stack builder by means of old timber, makes a large apartment in his stack with an opening in the side which is farest exposed tot he wind; this he calls a fause-house.

- Robert Burns' Halloween Note, c. 1820

A hollow made in a corn stack, with an opening on the side most exposed to the wind, for the purpose of drying the corn. Scottish form of false and house.

- Sir James Murray's New English Dictionary, 1901