Tag Archives: quizzical

Cover

Cover: (v) to place something over or upon, as for protection, concealment, or warmth.

 “I’ll be fine.”

This is what I said to my hostess when she asked me if I might need a blanket. In that moment, I felt that I might be bothering her too much by requesting one—and the room seemed to be a really good temperature and I thought I could lay on the bed without the need of any kind of cover. funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

After all, I was just going to sleep. How much do you really need to protect you when you’re just heading for Sleeper Land?

She gave me a quizzical look when I refused additional “warmage,” as if to question my judgment on the matter, but wanting to be an ideal lady of the house, she honored my wishes, left the room and disappeared into her home, which was an unknown castle to me.

I brushed my teeth, I went to bed, and as I reached over to turn off the lamp on the nearby stand, I realized that I didn’t have a cover.

It was my fault. I had explained that I didn’t need one—but now that I was in my room and darkness was falling around me, I wanted a cover.

I nearly cried.

I didn’t know the house well enough to creep around looking in cabinets, searching for blankets, so I lay on the bed, very still, trying to convince myself that I would be content without being embraced by my cover.

I do not want to be overly dramatic…

Yes, I do. It was hell.

I found I could not sleep without having something over me. I felt naked, even though I was wearing pajamas. My shoulders were hanging out there to be seen by the night spirits, without apology. My legs were lonely.

I did not know what to do. I wanted to sleep but that didn’t seem covered.

So I got up, opened up my suitcase, began to pull out all my clothing, and tied pant legs onto shirt arms, with attached socks, until I eventually put together a really weird quilt.

It worked so well that after experimenting on four or five different combinations, I had everything covered, from my toes up to my chest.

I felt powerful again.

Yet as I lay down to go to sleep, I realized the top of my chest was unsheltered. Not wanting to get up to disrupt my makeshift blanket, I reached down into my suitcase, grabbed a pair of underwear and stuffed them under my chin.

At last…

Thank God Almighty.

Covered at last.

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Afro

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

 

Afro: (n) a hairstyle with very tight curls that sticks out all around the head, like the natural hair of some black people

James was black.

Nothing truly significant can be ascertained without this fact. I do not bring this up because his skin color made him superior OR inferior to anyone else. It just gave him different hair.

James worked for me for a while–matter of fact, lived in my house. It was a rather communal setup, so we shared food, toothpaste, and even hair products.

James was very gentlemanly. It was several weeks of quiet displeasure on his part before I noticed his disgruntled spirit.

I was a bit perturbed so I asked what the problem was. His response was standard.  “Nothing.”

Of course, he knew that his “nothing” was really NOT nothing, and he hoped that I would pursue his “nothing” by trying to find something out. So I did.

“No, no,” I continued. “What’s up?”

After a few more overtures of encouragement, he released his burden. He explained that his hair was not like my hair, and that my “white people” shampoo and conditioner was killing his follicles. I produced a quizzical look, as paler brothers often do.

He asked me to feel his hair–and I discovered it was rather bristly and dry. He explained in vivid detail that his afro, which was very fashionable for the time, needed to be conditioned with the kinds of oil that I would probably find to be greasy, but his hair found necessary.

I think he thought I would be critical, since the idea of purchasing additional products would be expensive, but stepping out of my Anglo-Saxon world and putting down my mace and Viking horns, I agreed. Matter of fact, he took me with him to the store to purchase his items, and even though they tallied up to quite a sum, they made James happy. They also gave a tremendous shine and bounce to his afro.

I learned a lot that day. Even though afros are not as prevalent as they were when James and I were working together, I understood–and I understand now–that what’s good for one person’s do is a don’t for others.

Achilles

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter AAchilles: a hero of the Trojan War. During his infancy his mother plunged him into the Styx, making his body invulnerable except for the heel by which she held him. During the Trojan War, Achilles killed Hector but was later wounded in the heel by an arrow shot by Paris, and died.

Since I saw the movie, Troy, Achilles will always be Brad Pitt to me. Or maybe it’s that Brad Pitt will always be Achilles. Whichever floats your boat. And speaking of floating your boat … Supposedly Helen of Troy had an affair with Paris, which started a war and launched a thousand ships.

If you watch the movie, you see the portrayal of a very arrogant, self-sufficient, mean-spirited, dark, quizzical and I suppose to the average woman between the ages of fourteen and twenty-five, sexy Achilles.

He liked killing people.

That should be one of the classic turn-offs, but it seemed to be very exciting to his fellow-fighters and all the women who met him. He was rather ruthless, which the Greeks, who touted themselves to be such a scholarly bunch, still extolled as noble. He considered himself to be invincible, which lends itself to a bit of foolishness and certainly makes one obnoxious.

What did I learn about Achilles? I relearned the very valuable lesson that half of what I believe about myself is only true because it hasn’t been tested, and the other half, that has been tested, I do not believe, for some reason or another, to be sufficient to my needs.

We are all foolish when we think that because we haven’t yet met an enemy who can take us down, that we are beyond conquering. And we’re also quite silly when we downplay the TRUE virtues of our soul and talent, deeming them insignificant.

If Achilles had just been a good soldier, treated people better, and had not run into battle believing he was made of titanium, he probably could have lived to a ripe old age, had children and been deeply respected by the world around him. Instead, he let his ego drive his mission rather than using common sense and restraint.

It’s doubtful that dipping him in the River Styx actually achieved the purpose of making him supernatural. It sure did give him a lot of confidence, though–that is, until somebody shot an arrow in just the right place.

Interesting. Since we talk about Achilles, I wonder if that’s where we got the phrase, “that person’s a real heel.”