Crisp

Crisp: (adj) primarily food which is firm and fresh; not soft or wilted:

Bends but does not snap.

If you bought some celery from the store and a stalk bends but does not snap in the center, it is officially not crisp.

Yet in everyday life, normally that which is bendable, flexible, pliant is considered more usable than anything that would snap in the middle when challenged.

What do we really want to be crisp?

Oh, sometimes we throw it in as a descriptive word. It doesn’t really mean anything.

“That was a really crisp dance routine.”

“The delivery of his speech was articulate and crisp.”

We probably should have abandoned the word long ago.

Although we extol the beauty of something being crisp, we don’t necessarily like crisp things.

I’ve heard people say, “There’s nothing like a large, crisp apple.” But I’ve also walked into a party and seen apples laying on tables with one bite out of them—because they were too crisp.

Then there are foolers.

Somebody offers you an “apple crisp.”

But it isn’t crisp. It’s deliciously moist and gooey.

We don’t even want our cereal to be crisp. Some people insist they want it crunchy but that gets annoying after a while. Can we be candid? One of the better parts of a bowl of cereal is lifting it up to your lips and slurping down the last little bit of milk—accompanied by some soggy pieces of corn flake or Captain Crunch.

I would not want to be an agent assigned to promote “crisp.” Candidly, I think it comes off a little self-righteous. You might even be frightened to be around “crisp” because its standards are so high that you would fear you would never be able to measure up.

After all, celery that isn’t crisp can still be chopped up and thrown into a stew or Thanksgiving dressing. You may not want to smear it with peanut butter—but how often does that really come up? Only when you’ve run out of chips, dips and buffalo wings and you gratefully discover a jar of peanut butter and some normally ignored crisp celery.

 

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

 


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Articulate

Articulate: (v) to express an idea fluidly or coherently.dictionary with letter A

I think we’re fine as long as the disease does not spread to the American living room.

I guess we’ve just reached the point in our history when we expect politicians to parse words, fudge facts and grope for non-answers. My problem is that when it begins to trickle down and become part of the mind-set of the general populace, it really gets annoying.

Here are the facts: I would love to ask you a question and have you just answer it. Could you please just articulate your present situation without giving me too much history or too many excuses?

Yet we have sufficiently frightened the American people out of talking because they think they might say something “wrong,” so therefore they end up not saying much of anything at all.

May I share the standard three-step process of human communication?

  1. I spoke quickly.
  2. This is the correction.
  3. Honestly, I’m still learning.

If you spend your whole life trying to come up with the safe answer, you will fail to accomplish anything. I would love to have a politician, a preacher, a pundit or a pauper simply give me the first answer that comes into their minds–and let them clarify it later.

I am tired of Congressmen and even our President mulling over the question, trying to find the very best way to give a non-response.

Hear ye, hear ye: what makes you articulate is the ability to articulate your feelings quickly, knowing that some revisions may be necessary, but delaying is maddening.

A question is asked. I am weary of people having a look on their faces like they’ve just been thumped by a two-by-four as they try to access information which they feel will be acceptable to share and might make them look intelligent.

If you want to appear smart, answer the damn question.

You can apologize later, you can add new stuff, you can even say you didn’t understand the original question if you want. But if you find yourself beginning to respond to every inquiry thrown your way with “ah,” “umm,” “well,” “let me see,” or “wow”–you probably are putting forth the message … that you’re struggling to acquire your best available lie.

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Apiary

dictionary with letter A

Apiary: (n.) a place where bees are kept.

This is really unfair.

I guarantee you, I will not remember this.

Am I the only person who thinks an apiary is a place where you should keep apes?

How am I supposed to remember that an apiary is where you keep bees? A word picture won’t even help me. My God, the horror of blending a monkey and a bee.

And even though I’ve seen people who tend to these little buzzing wonder-units, it does baffle me. Because they make honey but they will sting–so much so that if you don’t have that funny wire mask on, and the white suit that makes you look like the Marshmallow Man, you’re always in danger of them…well, getting a bee in your bonnet.

But then the shocking news came to me that bees were beginning to die off, and that if they continued this extinction, pollination could cease and therefore crops would not grow and we will eventually all starve.

God, I wish my pollination was so powerful.

So I really have mixed feelings about bees.

I know they’re important. I know they make something sweet in life. I also know they sting.

But I understand that if they do sting, word has it that it can be fatal to them. Maybe something God should have instilled in the human being–some sort of system whereby you get three mouthfuls of gossip and then your head falls off.

I am not the kind of writer who will close this off with some silly reference like, “Whatever bees will bees.”

I am well beyond that.

  • I am astute.
  • I am articulate.
  • And I have enough fear of the works of Shakespeare to avoid such trivialities.

Oh, what the hell.

Whatever bees will bees. 

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