My confusion is too big to fail. The bales set out for Halloween decorations have sprouted little green chia hairdos. If I had teeny-tiny scissors I would give each bale a trim.
The trouble started when I could not spell baling wire. Could it be bailing wire? Could somebody bail me out here? Maybe I should go with duct tape and hot glue for a fix.
Yesterday I heard a clunk. When I walked out to the kitchen I saw a cabinet door had pulled out of the cupboard under the sink. Screws were rolling around on the linoleum. It was too dismal out to go to Home Depot. Could I fix the door with baling wire, duct tape, hot glue, or maybe some toothpicks?
Don't give me that baleful look just because I can't spell any more. That bale comes from Old English balu for mental suffering and evil influence. The hay bale is from Old French for a large bound package of raw or unfinished material. A baleful look must be the squint of a satisfied cow.
Bailing out is such double fun! I was thinking of removing water from a leaky boat, not providing security to get somebody out of jail. When did government bail-outs begin?
If I wear a balaclava you won't see my chia pet haircut, but it will be difficult to eat the baklava. I did recall the balaclava's connection to the Crimean War, to the "Charge of the Light Brigade", and especially to Flashman at the Charge. If anybody still cares, there's a new biography of Tennyson coming out soon.
Since I'm already up to mid-calf in water in this rickety boat, I'll admit that I had balalaikas and ocarinas reversed. One has three strings and an important role in "Dr. Zhivago". The other is called a "sweet potato" and had a bit part in "Call Me Madam".
© 2013 Nancy L. Ruder