Showing posts with label words. Show all posts
Showing posts with label words. Show all posts

Monday, February 15, 2010

While doing the menial tasks,

of which my job largely consists today, I found myself meditating on the word "figment." Well, it was because a gal in the office said, "You don't see me! I'm a figment!" We thought she had today - President's Day - off.

I'd never heard the word used in isolation before. And it shouldn't be; at least not in that context.
fig·ment (fgmnt)
n.
Something invented, made up, or fabricated: just a figment of the imagination.

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[Middle English, from Latin figmentum, from fingere, to form; see dheigh- in Indo-European roots.]

figment [ˈfɪgmənt]
n
a fantastic notion, invention, or fabrication a figment of the imagination
[from Late Latin figmentum a fiction, from Latin fingere to shape]
Collins English Dictionary – Complete and Unabridged 6th Edition 2003. © William Collins Sons & Co. Ltd 1979, 1986 © HarperCollins Publishers 1991, 1994, 1998, 2000, 2003

Saturday, January 02, 2010

Murder of crows?

Who makes this crap up?

I can't imagine that most of these have been used in normal conversation. A nuisance of cats?

Friday, October 16, 2009

My daughter just made up a word.

"Contrarium." (She meant to say 'aquarium.' I think the word needs a definition.

Thursday, September 03, 2009

More than just a wild ass

My kid - the older boy - called me up tonight and asked me for a synonym for catapult. Damned if the word 'onager' wasn't listed. I'm like, "What?" Now, I know that an onager is like a donkey - I think I learned that from my Grandpa, who brought it up God-knows-why. Maybe he owned one once or something. Anyway, here's the explanation from Wikipedia:
The onager was a post-classical Roman siege engine, which derived its name from the kicking action of the machine, similar to that of an onager (wild ass). It is a type of catapult that uses torsional pressure, generally from twisted rope, to store energy for the shot.

Twisted rope? Now I've gotta read the rest of the article.

Oh, I forgot to tell you why he asked.

He's a tree trimmer, you know, and he was removing a big maple today, cutting all the branches off and dropping them to the ground. When he cut off the last and biggest "lead" (think of a lead as a sub-trunk), a branch hit the ground funny and shattered, shooting a yard-long, five-inch thick, jagged log at a neighboring house. Luckily, she, the neighbor, had a big maple tree of her own that stopped the log before it sailed right through her picture window.

He said it all happened in slow-motion, but it didn't get a good description of his feelings. He went off on a tangent about what an SOB his father-in-law is.

He probably tells his father-in-law what an SOB his stepdad is. I know I can be an SOB. I don't know anything about the other guy but what my stepson tells me. I stepped into this situation with no clue of what I was getting into, thus modeling the lifestyle I obviously favored. The Older Boy has gone and done likewise.