It was WWWD who uttered the word “metonym”. He used it in a sentence! The word sounded really familiar, like didn’t I just hear (or more likely read) that word yesterday? Or thereabouts? I tried looking it up. On my iPhone, don’tcha know (WWWD: “Are you looking it up on your iPhone? I may have to pick one of those puppies up one of these days.” KW: “Yes!”) I was thinking “meta”, not “meto” although it seems as though a variant is in play here. Anyway, I didn’t find “metanym” but I did find “metonym” and when I clicked through to *that* and started reading the daffy-nishun, I realized that I had already *read* the dern daffy-nishun. Yesterday. Or thereabouts. I do not think I am ready to use the word “metonym” in a sentence yet. For one thing, it was late in the afternoon and I was deep inside an excel spreadsheet trying to remember which functions I needed to use for various dynamic calculations. Also, “speak s-l-o-w-l-y, I’m blonde.” [hello] I love WWWD. I mean that in the sense that he’s a wonderful co-worker, not in a crush sense. A *humble* person with a phd attached to his name (actually *in* philosopy, if I have it right). He is a smart enough person to know how much he *doesn’t* know and I have *never* heard WWWD do any mansplainin. Take a note, polly-tishuns.

So, yesterday was one of “those” blahgging days and my hastily thrown-together entry ended with a wish to be traveling somewhere else. The truth is that I am *loving* being here at the Landfill this December (except for the loverly joyride to the Great White North last weekend). Last year at this time, it seemed like every time I turned around*, The Commander was being sent to the ER (up in Siberia) once again and I would call the ER and the doc would say something like, “I’m not sure if we can bring her back or not but we’re trying.” I prepared myself for her possible death several times during northward drives and honestly, when it finally happened, I was more than prepared. *Actually, I think I only heard that twice from an ER doc but twice was more than enough and every one of those damn hospital trips took more out of her…

This year I am actually making enough flinging / cleaning progress here that I am starting to see a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. Oops. I threw out some old ceeegar boxes… “Those were my dad’s.” –The GG. Okaaaayyyy. My dad smoked more than a few ceegars in his life and I have not inherited any ceeegar boxes to speak of, thank you god or whoever. I do remember a summer when UKW, Pooh, and I were snagging them whenever we could to build Troll Houses with them. We used shoe boxes too and we would be working on our troll houses on the big hearth in front of the Old Cabin faaaarplace when one mother or another (Radical Betty, The Comm, or Bubs) would find us there and say, “It’s a BEACH DAY! What are you doing inside the cabin?” I guess they were still decompressing from the infamous Two-year-old Summer… (three 2-year-old cousins and other assorted kids in one log cabin, rain almost every day).

Last but not least, if you have read this far and you have created a prime number sieve in your life, you are in for a treat! Hat tip to our nephew Cap, who is a mathematician and, like WWWD, he has a phd.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, December 12th, 2012 at 7:06 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.