Countenance

Countenance: (n) appearance, especially the look or expression of the face

She swore she could tell.

She believed with all her heart that she could look at the countenance of another human being and tell you their whole story.

She claimed to see “auras”—colors within the cloud of confidence or deceit that surrounded the face of each person in front of her.

You see, I liked her, so I didn’t argue with her about it.

I also know for a fact that whether there’s a coloration involved or not, each one of us does exude from our countenance much more than we often realize.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Now, I will tell you, my friend who believed she saw colorations was usually much harder on people she didn’t like than people she did. I never discovered that she said any one of her enemies seemed to be ‘in the pink.’

But the light of the body is the eye—our eyes and faces reveal much of what is going on in our brain.

It doesn’t take us long to recognize when someone’s lying if we have the time just to study their expression.

It certainly does not require much effort to perceive when a brother or sister is struggling with depression or burdened with difficulty.

We probably don’t realize how many decisions we make about others based on their countenance—and I’m not talking about whether they are pretty or handsome.

No–it’s whether they have enough illumination from inside to light up their outside.


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Blues

Blues: (n) a melancholic music of black American folk origin

Dictionary B

For a very, very–and dare I say, very–brief time, I ran the sound and light system for a blues club.

I was offered the opportunity because one of my sons was the chief engineer, and he needed a couple of nights off, so he generously afforded me the doorway to pick up a few extra bucks.

I had two nights of training, and even though I have a nearly passable understanding of electronic equipment, it was immediately obvious to me that I was out of my league. Not only was I an anachronism to the atmosphere of the institution, but the inadequacies of my working knowledge of the sound and the lights soon became apparent to everyone.

Also, listening to blues music two nights a week for four hours certainly does not leave you “in the pink.”

Blues music is a constant lament that “life is not fair” and “women need to find their place” and realize that men are superior. It is also self-indulgent in the use of the instrumental solo, trying to simulate anything from tooth extraction to orgasm.

After a while, the mingling of my disdain for the repertoire and my ineptness behind the board made it necessary for the head of the band to reluctantly approach my son and ask him to courteously and gently fire me as quickly as possible.

Although my fine offspring tried to be consoling, I was so relieved by being relieved that I’m afraid I showed my relief.

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