Tag Archives: words from dictionary

Absinth

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Absinth:  (n.) 1. the shrub wormwood 2. a potent, green aniseedflavored liqueur that turns milky when water is added. Prepared from wormwood, it is now largely banned because of its toxicity.

All right, my imagination went nuts. Here’s what I see: a rather smarmy middle-aged gentleman, dressed in an unkempt, off-white linen suit, with beads of sweat sprouting around his brow, sitting in a large chair with once-lush velvet cushions, now a bit threadbare, presenting a chalice of drink in the direction of our hero, with a tiny, wicked smile on his lips, speaking in a broken accent: “Here. Drink. It’s dee-lee-cious.”

Our hero pauses, knowing certainly that this offering of refreshment is laced with some sort of poison–probably from wormwood. But to keep the upper hand, he takes the cup and downs it with one humongous gulp. He wipes his mouth with his sleeve and says in his best Midwestern, American accent, “Best I ever tasted.”

Our villain begins to laugh and cackle, giggling uncontrollably. “It is poison,” he says, sporting a bit of drool at the corners of his mouth. “And only I have the antidote.” He holds up a small vial which looks like it would contain really expensive eye drops.

At this point, any variety of plot twists could occur. A wrestling match for the antidote. Or perhaps our hero masterfully regurgitates the contents of his stomach, explaining that figuring our wicked friend would conjure a devious plan, he had surgically had his stomach lined with polyurethane to protect him from all poisons.

I don’t know. I decided a long time ago that it was much more fun to be a little wacky than being straight-laced and narrow-minded. Honestly, I don’t know why anyone would want to drink anything extracted from wormwood. Of course it’s going to be poison. Sometimes the name says it all.

But there are those people who call themselves adventurers, who are not excited enough about the prospect of breathing normally, moving around and enjoying pizza–so they want some danger in their lives.

I am not one of them.

But I am willing to go to the movies to view their antics.

(What did you think of the polyurethane-lined stomach??)

 

Absent-minded

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Absent-minded: (adj.)  having or showing an habitually forgetful or inattentive disposition

I’ve misplaced my notes. I could have sworn I left them next to my wallet, which still may be possible because right now I can’t find my wallet. It is my style to leave my wallet on my nightstand next to my keys. But I just found my keys in the bathroom next to my razor, so I guess they are not near my wallet, unless my wallet is in there, too–which upon careful inspection, is …

Speaking of inspection, I think this year I have to have my van inspected for tags, even though I am not sure if the state of Florida demands that particular situation to acquire tags.

I was thinking about a tag I had on my window that my son and daughter-in-law purchased for me, to pay for tolls when you go through those easy tag places on the roads. It’s not on my window.

I was so glad the other day when I had a big pebble hit the front of my car off of one of those gravel trucks–you know what I mean?–it slammed against the glass and I thought, “Oh, no. I hope it doesn’t chip or leave one of those little stars on the windshield, it would have to be repaired.” But it didn’t–so I was relieved.

Speaking of relieved, it was really cool that the Louisville basketball team won, even though they lost one of their players because he broke his leg. I’ve never broken a leg, though I think I cracked a bone in my ankle once. Can you crack a bone? I never got it set or anything. Of course, now, with these emergency outposts in malls, you could get that kind of thing done quickly.

And on the subject of malls,  it’s been a while since I’ve been to one. You know what I find? The things I want are so specific that I don’t just go to shop around anymore. I just get them.

And back to getting, I need to find my notes. Where did I put them?

Well, there’s my wallet. Yep. There’s my notes. Right next to my wallet.

Let me see. Notes for absent-minded…

The phone is ringing. Perhaps another time.

Absentee Ballot

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Absentee ballot: n.  a ballot completed and typically mailed in advance of an election by a voter who is unable to be present at the polls.

I was just a little kid. (Little kid–that may be a bit of redundancy, except truthfully, I wasn’t really little.)

My parents were staunch Republicans. Every election season, they would brag about walking into the booth and voting a “straight Republican ticket.” Since they were my parents, I assumed that was another piece of nobility to be revered, and only later discovered that it was a proclamation of a bit of preconceived ignorance.

Matter of fact, that particular mindset is so prevalent in our society today that the action of voting may be all absentee–not just ballots sent in from some far-away land by traveling citizens.

No, it appears to me that at times all the American people are absentee during their balloting.

  • They seem to be absentee of allowing their minds to be changed by reason, and instead wave the flag over their particular party of choice.
  • There seems to be an absentee nature in understand the expansive needs of a multi-cultural America, which is mushrooming much faster than its willingness to contemplate.
  • There seems to be an absentee of respect given between candidates campaigning for the same office–a disrespect for the ability of the other person to have gotten that far in the process.
  • There seems to be an absentee of understanding that merely possessing a morality of your own choice does not make it superior to another person’s interpretation.
  • And certainly we are absentee of following through on a conclusion to our political theories, determining whether they actually produce a government “of the people, for the people and by the

people.”

Even though I think voting can be a very good thing, I find it neither regal, virtuous or heavenly when it can be so easily “bedeviled” by stubborn loyalty instead of common sense.
Perhaps THAT’S the problem in America. Like my mother and father so many years ago, all the votes being cast seem to be absentee of the deliberation necessary to honor the traditions that have made this country rich with potential.

For let us be frank. The greatest leaders in our history–George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, Abraham Lincoln, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and any others you might conjure in your mind–if deposited into our time, would all be completely uncomfortable associating themselves with either political party.

Because change is not a party.

It is often a lonely trip in the middle of the night to the local convenience store to pay too much for supplies, desperately needed.

Absence

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Absence: n. 1. the state of being away from a place or person 2. the nonexistence or lack of

Sometimes it’s just knowing that if you had something you’d be happier or if you were with someone, you could be content.

You see, that’s the danger of experiencing happiness. I think it’s why some people avoid it. I mean, if you just go neutral, pretending that things are supposed to be hard, tough or mean, then when things end up being exactly that way, you can comment that you really are not surprised because it’s what you expected.

Absence happens when we have taken the risk to allow something to fill our space, knowing that it might not last. Sometimes we wonder why life seems mediocre, as we purposely walk away from everything that might give it meaning.

But I am sympathetic. It’s a scary thing to live a life where you pursue joy and fulfillment because if it goes away, the pain and sadness are even deeper.

Yet the absence we feel in our soul over failing to participate is a bottomless well.

What a mess! If we chase the moon and we never escape Earth’s atmosphere, we will be disappointed. If we stare at our shoes and pretend there is no moon, we are equally as deprived. So it’s really a question of which “absence” you want to experience. Do you want the absence of ANY possibility of excitement and risk? Or do you want the absence of pursuing excitement and risk, tasting the first fruits, but forfeiting the blessing?

I don’t know.

But I am aware of this:

  • The human body was meant to be active.
  • The human heart was meant to feel.
  • The human soul was intended for faith
  • And the human brain was constructed to gain knowledge.

So I guess, whether we like it or not, the only way to be happy is to risk the absence of it in our lives.

Abscond

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Abscond: v. to leave hurriedly and secretly, typically to avoid detection of or arrest for an unlawful action such as theft.

Absconding is a three-part process. Tricky business.

First, you need a plan. Second, you need to execute it well, and third, you need to cover your tracks so you don’t get caught.

Since I never plan to apply this principle to a diamond heist, the closest I ever came to “absconding” is what I shall refer to as the Great Hot Fudge and Marshmallow Cream Caper.

When I was a kid,  during commercials of my favorite cartoons, I really enjoyed slipping into the kitchen and acquiring a scoop of hot fudge from the refrigerator or a similar dipping into the marshmallow cream.  Here was the problem: after a while, the addiction drives you so frequently to the ice box that it becomes very difficult to hide your “absconding” of the container from your mother and father, who apparently meticulously view the contents of all such treats in the freezer.

It also was difficult to take a little bit from the containers and still satisfy the itching need.

So what I came up with was … water. After an evening of absconding hot fudge from one jar and marshmallow cream from the other, I slipped into the kitchen and dribbled some water into each container, stirring them up thoroughly. It made it appear as if the vessels still contained the same amount of goodies as they once had. My parents would be none the wiser.

I can tell you that I was extremely impressed with my ingenuity. It seemed to work. For a whole week, I pursued this practice–until, on the following Monday, I went to the refrigerator and discovered that there was NO marshmallow cream or hot fudge sundae, which had been purchased to take care of the sweet monkey on my back.

I took a deep breath, trying to gain control, and attempted to figure out how to broach the subject with my parents without drawing attention to my greedy need. As it turned out, I didn’t have to wait too long, because my dad asked where the hot fudge was. My mother replied, “I stopped buying it and the marshmallow cream because they were too watery.”

From that point on, I was never able to abscond hot fudge or marshmallow cream via my silver spoon. Because to get my mother to purchase it again, I would have to admit that I was the source of the dilution.

I thought it was better to keep up the delusion.

Abscise

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Abscise: v. to cut off or away.

The problem with cutting is that it’s always done too quickly, with an impetuous disregard. We are so determined to divide some piece of a whole into parts that we snip away with careless abandon, leaving a jagged edge.

Oh, yes–I encounter the frayed ends every single day of my life. People are finding themselves divided by careless leaders and causes, determined to create animosity instead of finding a way to generate a sense of union.

It’s all over our country.

The Mason Dixon line is not a smooth pathway that differentiates between “Northern and Southern thinking,” but rather, a deep-rooted tear in the fabric of our nation, continuing a verbal Civil War–between those who feel progressive and those loyal to a former time.

Even in the medical field of surgery, cutting is a last resort. It is what the doctor chooses to do when the combination of medications and the human immune system fail to unite to dispel the infection.

Is it possible for us to join forces to vomit the evil from our thoughts as a nation instead of continuing to cut our flesh like some frustrated teenage girl, aggravated by her neurotic insecurity? I don’t know.

But what I have decided is to never be part of the abscising of the “Body Americana” merely to demonstrate my power and prowess. I am not better without you. I am not self-sufficient. I cannot be ripped from the lineage of my fellow-citizens and expect to maintain the integrity of my birthright and freedom.

I cannot decry you of your rights and sleep at night, content in my own. I cannot make fun of you because you fail to recognize my obvious superiority and still keep my intelligence intact.

There are people who are proud of the fact that they stand up for their cause by tearing apart everything around them. Historically, they have been called ignorant, traitors, fools and backward thinking. They will be again.

I offer no malice to them whatsoever. But I also refuse to join their mob.

I plan on doing no abscising.  I am walking around my country with a needle and thread, looking for ways to repair the breach.

Abscess

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Abscess: n. a swollen area within body tissue, containing an accumulation of pus.

I was trying to figure out an acceptable–dare I say pleasant?–way to present the concept of pus. Absent any constructive idea, I was reminded of a time when I was infected with the nasty goo.

I was twenty-two years old, traveling around the country without very much money and no health insurance. One day my face started to swell up. It is a frightening thing when you are fairly homely, to realize that it is possible to become even more unattractive. At first I didn’t worry about it, which was stupid, but then on top of the swelling came great pain, light-headedness, a sensation that I had been beaten up and humiliated by a gang of aggressive nuns, and a little nausea.

I was sick.

I went to a doctor who was gracious enough to offer free service. It was good that it was free, because he thought I had a “cold in my jaw” and suggested antihistamines. I am sure that the medication did kill all my histamines, but they did not seem to be the source of the great swelling.

Finally, near the point of passing out from my affliction, my friends drove me to a dentist in Jacksonville, Florida, who looked inside my mouth, and with a bit of horror etched across his face, announced, “You have a severely abscessed tooth.”

No part of that sounded good. He suggested a treatment of antibiotics for two weeks to reduce the swelling, and then he would pull the troublesome tooth. I laughed through my pain and explained that I would not be in town in two weeks, and that I needed something done today.

He paused. I don’t know what was crossing his mind, but I imagine it had something to do with disposing the body in the Atlantic Ocean if the big, fat boy sitting in his chair died from the treatment given in his office. Actually, I will never know why he did it, but on the spot he chose to give me oral surgery, which included five shots of Novocaine, which did not deaden the anguish. Then he cut inside my mouth and squeezed out all the poison and pus from the swelling.

It was gross, sickening, painful, ugly and all the time he was doing it, he was saying little oaths and curses under his breath because he realized that he was in the midst of a great malpractice suit.

He squeezed and he squeezed, and I cringed and I cringed. After about fifteen minutes, he was satisfied that he had drained the well. He sewed me up, handed me some antibiotics and after about a week, I was well again.

Oh, did I mention that in the same sitting, he reached in and yanked out the tooth? I think he was convinced that if I left his office, I would never try to get help again.

That was my experience with an abscess. Sometimes you just have to cut into it and squeeze out the guck.

It is never pleasant, but if you don’t, all the poison ends up winning.

Absaroka Range

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Absaroka Range: a range of the Rocky Mountains in Montana and Wyoming.

There are folks who would insist that the problem lies in making mountains out of molehills. But equally as foolish is the present practice of making molehills out of mountains.

There are so many beautiful things happening in our world which are relegated to obscurity because they cannot bust through the lens of the 24-hour news cycle, that these projects and people have to be dismissed as irrelevant in order to justify the snubbing.

Can you imagine if you were the Absaroka Range? You are part of the Rockies, and if someone happens to be in Montana, waking up on a beautiful morning, you certainly exceed the status of molehill. But the Rockies get all the publicity; get written up in the Triple-A Travel Guide, and intoned in songs. No, you are stuck in Montana–considered a mere extension of the magnitude and beauty of your alleged superiors to the south.

Remarking on mountains being made out of molehills is really just an attempt to get everybody to calm down and not be overly focused on issues which we have decided to stick on the back burner, if not heave on the trash heap. But I tell you–perhaps the greatest danger in our generation is turning mountains into molehills, pretending that huge piles of important stuff really isn’t quite as significant as it appears to be.

These babies up in Montana are mountains. They may not get the press of the Rockies. They may be in a state that doesn’t have enough electoral votes to interest a fourth party candidate–but they’re still mountains. They still have reason to be proud. And when you stand next to them, they are just as intimidating to climb.

So be careful listening to the common drivel of our time. It won’t necessarily survive the decade in which it is spouted. Instead, do yourself a favor and before you dismiss that Absaroka Range up in Montana, go stand next to it and let its beauty and power sweep over your soul.

Abs

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Abs: (n.) the abdominal muscles

I was so relieved.

I cannot tell you how worried I was, especially when I was seeing people like Brad Pitt, Ryan Gosling and even a bunch of women on the movie screens, all of these individuals possessing this strange conglomeration of a knotty formation right in the middle of their stomachs, which now is commonly referred to as a “six-pack.”

I was a little concerned mainly because I did not have anything resembling this particular formation.

But I was informed by my doctor–or at least I interpreted this from her words–that I was just not born with them. Isn’t that terrific? Because if that were NOT the case, it would mean that I was lacking in some way or that it was necessary for me to learn how these outstanding specimens of physical health had achieved these configurations. But as it turns out, I do not possess the ability to acquire this.

(Now, what my doctor really said was, “You’re so fat that the muscles can’t be seen.” But I realized that she was just sending a subliminal thought to me, and I translated to, “Relax, Jon. You have other gifts besides abs.”)

For you see, my friends, we can spend our lives lamenting our lack or celebrating the party being thrown in our heads. I am overjoyed to know that by God‘s design, I am abless.

Where some people have a six-pack, God, the Father has given me … a refrigerator.