Category Archives: B words

Build

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Build: (v) to construct something by putting parts or material together

What should the question be?

Is it what I build?

How I build?

Where I build?

When I build?

Or why I build?

Let’s start with why I build.

I build because there’s a need. There’s an absence of a landmark which proclaims an important truth.

When I build.

Two ingredients are always necessary–labor and money. If people are not motivated to build, the money will quickly be eaten up. If the mDictionary Boney is not available, the labor will be disgruntled.

How should I build?

Without strife. I’ve seen people begin projects and absolutely destroy their relationships just because the deadline or the goal superseded the appreciation of one another.

Where should I build?

There’s an axiom that something built on rock will last longer than something built on sand. Sometimes we build on sand because we think what we built will be so appreciated that there won’t be any attacks against it. That’s a mistake. Our building should be able to withstand the onslaught of nature and critics.

And finally, what we build.

We should always build to sufficiency, with a vision for growth. We should never place a one-acre building on a one-acre property. There’s no place to go. But we should never be ashamed of a humble beginning. The secret to success is not to begin big, but rather, realistically, so people can constantly see our growth.

Yes, what should we build?

What is it we need?

 

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Bugle

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Bugle: (n) a brass instrument like a small trumpet, typically without valves

The reason “silence is golden” is that talking ends up costing you so much that you can go bankrupt.

I learned this as a young boy when I went to church camp. I had just begun playing trumpet in the junior high band and had miracuDictionary Blously won first chair, so was over-confident and convinced I was some sort of great trumpet player. (I could mention names but since they’re all dead and gone, you would not remember them anyway.)

Arriving at church camp, one of the counselors pulled an old bugle out of a closet. It was once used at the facility to awaken the camp to the morning Reveille.

He thought it would be rather clever to continue the tradition, and when he asked if anyone played the bugle, my hand shot straight up in the air and I volunteered. Actually I volunteered for two separate missions: 1) being the first one to wake up in the morning, and 2) playing a horn which has no valves and therefore demands that your mouth provide the impetus for pitch.

I had never played a bugle.

So I went off to a wooded section of the camp, far from everybody, and attempted to blow it. I don’t know if it was just that the instrument was old and dented, or if bugles are secretly implements of torture, but it took everything I had to get a sound out of it, and felt like I had deposited my lung into the mechanism.

That night at vespers, the counselor announced that I would be playing bugle in the morning to wake everyone up.

And wake them up I did.

But it did not sound like the traditional tune but rather, the mating call of the Canadian goose. Let me add this detail–the Canadian goose if he had been wounded by buckshot.

The first day everyone encouraged me and said it was delightful.

The second day, no one said anything to me.

The third day, I began to get a series of frowns and a couple of nasty notes on my bunk pillow.

And amazingly, when I rose on the fourth morning, the bugle was missing.

We searched the entire campgrounds diligently–or at least it appeared we did–and the bugle was never found.

Everyone acted disappointed.

I don’t think they were.

I actually thought, on Day 3, that at one point I played a note.

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Bug

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Bug: (n) a small insect

Here was the explanation:

“You can always tell a black widow spider by the hourglass on its thorax.”

Please forgive me. There are so many things in that description I don’t understand, while meanwhile the little Dictionary Bbooger is biting and killing me.

I don’t like bugs.

I’m going to go one step further, because apparently I’m in a cranky mood.

I don’t like people who like bugs.

On this given day, I don’t even like bug-eyed people. I don’t think I’m alone–we don’t say somebody “antelopes” us. We say they bug us.

Spiders, bugs, insects or whatever categories they fall into, are all obnoxious. And they seem to warn us with their level of ugliness.

For instance, the common house fly is rather common. I know it spends an awful lot of time down at the poop pile, but other than that–and the fact that it occasionally buzzes me when I’m eating potato salad–it seems pretty harmless.

But then you have hairy spiders, long-legged spiders, insects with multiple numbers of legs–all of them warning you through their peculiarities to stay clear. A cockroach–two words that I never want to see together.

Also, I do not think it is fun to watch somebody handle a tarantula.

So when it comes to bugs, I am feeling my skin crawl even as I write this article.

Matter of fact, for the next hour I will probably assume there’s something creeping up my leg.

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Buffoon

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Buffoon: (n) a ridiculous but amusing person; a clown.

Even though clowns can be creepy, bizarre, outdated, corny and certainly over-dressed, they do offer us a warning:

“Everything that’s about to come out of my mouth is passing through excessive grease paint.”

It’s a good thing.

What is not a good thing is to be uncertain about when we are listening to a buffoon–attributing some value, intelligence or Dictionary Bweight to the words.

That’s completely unfair.

Sometimes it’s not enough to say, “I’m kidding” at the end of a nasty statement. (Like “LOL.”)

The thought comes to our minds, “Were they kidding, or just covering their butt by pretending it’s a joke, masking hidden animosity?”

I just feel it’s my responsibility to let you good readers know when I’m being a buffoon. It happens all the time.

I often choose to be a buffoon just because I’m nervous about the subject matter and don’t really know what I’m talking about. It’s just easier to joke than provide answers.

But I do want to put a request in to all politicians, ministers, Hollywood actors and school teachers. Please give us a heads up when you don’t really know what you’re talking about and there’s a high possibility what’s about to come forth just might be the ramblings of a buffoon.

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Buffet

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Buffet: (n) a meal consisting of several dishes from which guests serve themselves.

When you take the time to sort out all the lies, half-truths, misinformation and even fake news, what remainsDictionary B is the truth. It’s a little dusty from being ignored, and even a bit stained from some stinky neighbors, but it’s still the truth.

Here’s one of them: fat people should not frequent “all you can eat” buffets.

Even though a majority of the population of China is slender, if you find yourself at a Chinese buffet, you will not see anyone who is not fat. You may say to yourself, “That’s an exaggeration.”

But just go–look around. And make sure there’s a mirror nearby.

Once Chinese food has been Americanized with sodium, sugar, flour and frying, it loses all its capability to make you a skinny-ass Chinaman.

You see what I mean?

Certainly there are individual dishes at Chinese buffets which are lower in calories than others, but usually they’re ignored, like your younger sister who has a little bit of a mustache.

From time to time, I go on stints of fevered and passionate weight loss. Certain foods need to be memories–hopefully not too fond, or I may return for a reunion.

But one place I definitely cannot frequent is a Chinese buffet, where I pretend to count calories in food that contains many secrets…hidden behind the Great Wall of recipes.

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Buffer

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Buffer: (n) something that prevents conflict

A book called Isaiah refers to it as “a repairer of the breach.”

It is an individual–or maybe even group–who decides that holding one opinion or another in reverence does notDictionary B grant the equity and generosity of spirit that is necessary to allow for tender human interaction.

Over the years, such a position has been deemed anemic or ill-defined. We are told that the most important thing is to believe in something and then cling to it in spite of how many people object to the position.

That style of living has left us at odds, seeking out camps of culture, where we pretend to be equal with those around us while secretly feeling that our clan is superior.

God knows we need a buffer.

We need people who know that the greatest accomplishment in the human race is to be a peace-maker.

It doesn’t make us evasive or lily-livered–rather, desirous of the “oil of gladness,” to lubricate all human relationships.

Without this buffer we bang up against each other, and pretty soon we’re so bruised that it takes less banging to bring pain. Eventually we are so angry about any interaction that we either hurt one another or we run away from each other in horror.

It begins with a simple understanding: there is no way at all that I can be better than you.

Even if I believed I was, God, our Creator, is no respecter of persons.

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Buffalo

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Buffalo: (n) a heavily built wild ox with backswept horns

I saw one.

I was driving across the country many years ago in my beat-up, brown Dodge van, with two other folks. Dictionary BWe were crossing the plains–I think South Dakota–and there in the distance was a buffalo.

Even though I’ve never been close to one, I’ve seem them in movies enough that I was pretty sure I was staring at the beast. We were on a back country road, so we decided to stop and pull out our old-fashioned cameras, which were not digital, climb out and take some pictures of the creature.

He–or she–was about a hundred yards away.

All at once, this hairy force of nature noticed us and started ambling in our direction. We thought it was cool.

But as it got closer and closer, it got bigger and bigger and fiercer and fiercer and faster and faster. It was less than thirty yards from us when we deicded we’d better jump back into the van, figuring we would be safe.

The buffalo actually came all the way to our position. Feeling well encased, we continued taking pictures through the window glass. The buffalo apparently became offended because it came over, took its big, ugly head and bumped the passenger door.

It was loud.

The lady sitting in that chair was absolutely terrified.

I started the van and took off, with the buffalo trying to keep up for about a hundred feet.

When we were fully away from the scene, we pulled over and got out to assess the damage.

There was a huge dent in the door, which we could never afford to fix.

So from that point on, whenever we came out to get into the van, we were reminded of our friend from the Dakotas.

Like so many things in life, it’s much nicer to see them on TV.

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Buff

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Buff: (adj) being in good physical shape with fine muscle tone.

Although I agree that sexual purity is a noble state, sexual deprivation more resembles North Dakota.

What I mean is, as we try to avoid promiscuity, we need to consider the fact that all of us require some sensation Dictionary Bof being attractive.

I was kind of born fat.

I know that sounds like a cop-out, and it probably is–but since I was twelve-and-a-half pounds when I popped out of my mother, and three hundred pounds by the time I reached the 7th grade, it is safe to say there were not many intervals of “lean” in between.

So even though I worked on a good personality, a generous spirit and nourishing my talent, I have traveled the Earth with what appears to be a spare belly. I don’t know what it would ever be used for–it just seems to take up space, unexplained.

Recently, one of my dear friends, who happens to be female, told me that another friend saw me about twenty years back, when I was deeply absorbed, or perhaps even possessed, in the notion of exercise, and described me as “buff.”

I almost wet my pants.

The notion of me being buff, or considered buff, or even curiously perceived buff by a near-sighted man, gave me an uncontrollable tingle down my spine.

For a moment, I felt alluring, without feeling the need to allure.

I was appealing, without needing to pursue pleasant dialogue which might make me seem interesting.

There is an old saying that we are “fearfully and wonderfully made.” If by that the writer intended to express that we are crazy and bonkers, then I agree.

But if we don’t feel presentable, we don’t feel happy.

And if we don’t feel happy, we try to make other people’s lives miserable.

And once miserable, they will certainly find us even more unappealing.

 

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Budget

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Budget: (n) an estimate of income and expenditure for a set period of time.

Sometimes I think the word “budget” was created so that the word “over” can be used more often.

Over budget.

I don’t exactly know why we’re so obsessed with budgets. I mean, I understand the practicality of them, but itDictionary B often resembles the little ant talking to the rubber tree plant.

In other words, we can account for many things as human beings:

  • We can tally.
  • We can work.
  • We can place things in envelopes.

But none of us are prepared for the surprises. Usually, those unplanned happenings are negative and not positive.

For instance, your car never tells you that it grew another transmission. That would be nice.

This is why, when we play Monopoly, and we pick the card that says “Bank error in your favor. Collect $100,” we almost feel like crying.

What is the value of a budget? The greatest purpose for a budget is to confirm that we have the possibility for solvency in the first place. Without such a consideration, we can launch a ship and run out of supplies in the middle of the ocean.

It’s called “counting the cost.”

And even though it doesn’t solve all problems, it at least informs us that if the wind blows just right, the figures we put on paper have half a chance of covering the need.

 

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Budge

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Budge: (v) to move slightly

I am an oxymoron.

For I will tell you of a certainty, I am a domesticated gypsy.

Or a gypsy, domesticated.

Half of my journey has been raising a family of fine sons, who now hDictionary Bave lives of their own.

But intermingled was a series of travels to share my art and heart with hundreds of thousands of people across the United States of America.

It was a precariously divine mission, one which I had to spark up in my soul daily, to guarantee enough pistons in the engine to propel me forward.

So I was often amused when I finished my show, which included music, humor and dialogue, and the sponsor nervously came to my side, twitching and relieved, and said, “It sure seems like everybody enjoyed it.”

I do think this individual usually believed if he or she had shared some problem or preference that the audience expressed, that I would leap at the opportunity to amend my approach or add a different angle to my presentation.

Here’s the truth–and you’ll just have to believe that it’s the truth since you’re not that familiar with my soul.

You can change your cologne but not your face.

What I mean by that is, if somebody wants you to smell different, it’s really no big deal.

But when somebody wants to change your look–or your outlook–they’ve landed on sacred ground.

I’m always willing to change things that don’t matter, but I won’t budge if I believe they have eternal consequences.

 

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