Tag Archives: words from dictionary

Abrade

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Abrade: (v.) scrape or wear away by friction or erosion.

It sounds brilliant to me. At least I think it deserves a good old college try.

Rather than being on a diet, I’m going to be on an abrade.

All these years, I’ve tried to internalize weight loss by healthy eating, low calories, no fat, few carbs … well, the list goes on and on.

I never thought about approaching it from the angle of “abrading.” Hear me out on this–at first it may sound a little weird.

What if I started out by bathing in pure lemon juice, encouraging skin shriveling? I follow by taking large jars of vanishing cream and smearing it all over the fat forts on my body. Then, purchasing a very mild or fine-grained sandpaper, I begin to just gently rub on my love handles. I should not do it to the point of abrasion or blood-letting, but maybe it’s possible, if I abrade enough, that I can wear down the onslaught of the attack of the blubber monster.

Maybe you have other ideas, too. Maybe binding my flesh for a few minutes every day with some sort of tape or wrap, to teach my excess flesh container to gel into a more concise form, would be beneficial.

Because I cannot tell you that dieting, as a whole, has been an extraordinarily successful proposal for me, or actually for millions of others. Some of us can not afford a personal trainer or will not be selected for the cast of The Biggest Loser. We also don’t particularly like to throw up from over-exertion in a gym as a means of dispelling unused calories.

Perhaps this “abrade” process could, shall we say, clean “the outside of the cup” instead of messing around with all of the inside difficulty.

At this point, I am not prepared to support the theory, nor am I ready to write the book, which would certainly become a best-seller on the New York Times List. I do have a working title, though: Abrade, Abrade: You’ve Got It Made.

But I am ahead of myself.

I guess the first step is working up the energy to squeeze 7,322 lemons … to draw my bath.

Abracadabra

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Abracadabra: (exclam.) a word said by magicians when performing a magic trick.

You see, it’s right there in the definition. Almost every time you see the word “magic,” it’s followed by “trick.”

It’s amazing that we spend most of our lives looking at our talent, our circumstances and our potentials, hoping to wave a magic wand over them and say “abracadabra.” Then for some reason, we’re disappointed and even angry when the rabbit doesn’t leap out of the hat.

Is there magic? Or is it all just a trick? Is magic the best way to manipulate people into doing what you want them to do–or worse–doing nothing?

I remember it a little differently. Does anybody else remember, “Abracadabra, please and thank you?” I’m thinking maybe I heard it on Captain Kangaroo. I like that.

So when “abracadabra” stalls,  you move on to “please.”

Yes, sometimes it’s a good idea to abandon magic in favor of manners. Truthfully, you can get a lot further being mannerly than you can by waving a wand in the air, demanding your will. I would not decry the validity of some forms of magic, but honestly, I’ve botten much more accomplished in my life by saying “please.”

If you happen to be so talented, gifted, powerful and wealthy that you don’t ever have to ask “please,” you will end up counting your money alone in a room on Christmas Eve, waiting to be spooked by three ghosts.

Magic is interesting, but manners are powerful.

Which leads to the final part of the phrase: thank you.

Yes, as wonderful as manners may be and as much as they may bring good fortune your way, nothing is more magical and supernatural than thank you. “Thank you” is permission for life to give you more, without fear of wasting it. If I were God, I would certainly be more generous to those who knew how to compose a thank-you note.

“Thank you” is the key that unlocks every crusty heart that has given up on humanity and has decided that life is futile. Even when it’s coerced out of a little kid slurping on an ice cream cone that was just given to him by a mother who is trying to teach the value of appreciation, it still is endearing and cute as he lifts up his little head, and through globs of gooey cream, mouths, “Thwank woo.”

It makes you want to give him another cone.

So you can pursue the magic of “abracadabra,” but it’s not nearly as good as the majesty of “please.” And as magnificent as the mannerly “please” may be, there is NOTHING as powerful as “thank you.”

Of course, you can cover all your bases, and say, “Abracadabra, please and thank you.”

Aboveboard

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Aboveboard: (adj.) legitimate, honest and open: certain transactions were not totally aboveboard.

Some things are not your business. But more things ARE your business than I sometimes think should be.

That’s the truth.

The easiest way to get in trouble as a human being is to walk around with a chip on your shoulder, proclaiming it’s YOUR life and nobody else has any right to interfere. The more you insist that people have no right to question you, the more questions will be sent your way.

You are much more likely to be audited by the IRS if you complain about paying taxes than if you just pay your fair share and move on to the rest of your life.

You are much less likely to be looked on suspiciously concerning your particular sexual practices if you don’t wave a flag and object to scrutiny.

People are funny in the sense that all of us want to keep SOME secrets, but we’re very suspicious of anyone who’s secretive. You might consider this to be hypocrisy–if you didn’t realize that it’s just human.

I’ve got it figured that if you want to live an aboveboard life, you can probably keep about five things secret–as long as you thrust to the forefront twenty admissions that make you forthcoming and honest. The minute someone thinks that you are hiding something, they assume it’s the tip of an iceberg of iniquity.

It is a bad profile.

There are things that I do in my life, or things that I feel, that I would rather not share in public or with the viewers on Entertainment Tonight. It’s not that I’m exactly ashamed of them–just not quite certain of all of their origins, so I wouldn’t be able to totally explain my inclinations.

But rather than spouting off my particular need for reclusion and autonomy from the rest of the human race, I would much rather be aboveboard on fifty other things about my life that don’t really make any difference whatsoever–and leave the general populace to believe I am transparent.

  • So I will gladly tell you I’m fat. First of all, it’s faily obvious. I lose nothing in that revelation.
  • I will tell you that I do not have a college degree. At my age, no one really cares.
  • I will tell you that my legs don’t work as well as I would like them to. I have other talents to keep me mobile.
  • I can admit that I do not like jalapeno peppers and still be in favor of immigration reform.

There are so many things that we can present, be candid about and aboveboard that we don’t need to act defensive and careful around one another.

So would I mind if you found out my five little private areas? No. I mean, I’ve never slaughtered chickens for the Kentucky Colonel. It’s just that they aren’t the brightest bulbs in my stage lighting. And I would much rather draw your attention to other areas of my weakness, and in the process present myself as adorable instead of unapproachable.

It is good to live an aboveboard life. Otherwise, you’ll have everybody grabbing a flashlight–and checking below your decks.

Above

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Above:  (prep.) in extended space over and not touching: a display of fireworks above the town.

I’ve always liked the word above.

Having written a song or two in my time, above happens to be one of those words that rhymes with love. Actually, love is a tough rhymer. You can throw in dove, but how does that ever make any sense? I even heard a song the other day that rhymed love with of. I thought that was rather bold.

Of course, because above rhymes with love, there is a danger of over-use. I guess that would personify the word above. If something is over our heads and doesn’t touch us, it’s pretty non-human, right?

I appreciate the sky, but I’ve never had a conversation with it. Why? Because it’s above me.

I can understand that there are planets over our heads, but that’s about the extent of my involvement with these circling orbs. Why? They’re up above.

Maybe that’s why God has such a big public relations problem. Maybe if we told everybody He had a nice ranch house just outside Paramus, NJ, it would be a lot easier to relate to Him. But since He’s above us, in heaven, and not touching us every day, it’s very easy to start feeling silly about trying to interact with Him–similar to some dude standing in the middle of the street, screaming at the sky.

Actually, probably the smartest thing God ever did was drop down from above, become human and show us love.

Huh.

There you go. That’s why love and above rhyme–because until the love comes from above, we can’t understand … um …

See what I mean? I’ve run out of words to rhyme.

About-face

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

About-face: 1. (n.) {chiefly in the military} a turn made so as to face the opposite direction 2.(v.): a command to make an about-face.

I don’t like to be ordered around.

Of course, if you say that out loud, people think you’re too spunky or too touchy. I’m not saying that I WON’T be ordered around. There are people who have the right to do so, and I respect their position.

I guess what I really mean is, I don’t like to be ordered around simply because someone has run out of things to do, so they come up with a new command to bark at me so they will still feel in control.

It reminds me of when I was a kid and would occasionally make the mistake of acting like I was bored. Before I could correct my error, my mother or father would always find something for me to do to fill my time in the most unpleasant way possible–a meaningless chore like cleaning out the attic, which no one ever visited anyway.

I do think there are things in life which demand an about-face. I would hope we would be intelligent enough to figure them out on our own, though, without someone having to scream at us to get our attention.

I think it would be wonderful if the President of the United States made an about-face and quit the Democratic Party, becoming an Independent, to communicate to the nation that he was no longer President of a club, but instead, the leader of all the people.

I would love to see the Catholic Church do an about-face on its traditions, which have generated sub-par human beings who abuse children out of their frustration over the lack in their own lives.

I would love to see the corporations in America do an about-face and realize they will not be able to make lavish profits if they continue to destroy the confidence of the consumer, raping them of money for often-inferior products.

I would like to see the entertainment industry do an about-face and add a little bit of conscience in with the effort to make a dollar at the box-office.

I would like to see the nation make an about-face on the issue of anything that kills people and put our freedom above the Second Amendment.

I would like to see myself do an about-face on believing there is a short list of things that I cannot overcome because I’m either too old or too stubborn.

About-face is a good idea–especially when you’re not waiting for a drill sergeant to give the order.

Yes, I guess I am much more pliable when the commands come from my own heart, through my soul and register in my brain.

About

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

About: (prep.) on the subject of; concerning.

Finally–a word I can write about that doesn’t tell me what to write about, but instead, allows me the about on which I wish to write.

Since I was a kid I’ve been given topics. Subjects–things that I’m supposed to think about, do or construct a paragraph to explain. It’s limiting!

But now, today, because of the courtesy of the word “about,” I could write ANYTHING on this paper and make a case that I was merely elaborating on the subject to explain the word “about.”

I feel empowered.

I feel completely in control of my own destiny from an artistic sense–not bound by tradition, complication or compulsion–unless you want to consider the compulsion that I might have–to focus “about” something…

It’s a great question: “What is this about?”

You can answer almost anything, since the person asking obviously has no clue. Your response is as good as any.

Matter of fact, the other day I tried it. Somebody was speaking to a friend in line at a restaurant and said, “What do you think all this debate concerning the budget is about?”

There was a brief pause, wherein I leaped through the silence, into the conversation and replied, “Guilt over genocide of the Indians.”

I then turned my back and resumed a dialogue with a nearby friend.

Neither one of the people who had been engaged in this discussion concerning the budget exactly knew what to do. After all, they didn’t know what it was about, therefore leaving themselves wide open for a tangential interpretation. What I succeeded in doing was stifling their involvement. They changed the subject and moved on.

So, since I could write about anything today, what I’ve decided to discuss…

Wait a second. They’re telling me my time is up. I’ve already used too many words.

Shoot. Another blown opportunity. Well, let me sum it up.

Can anybody explain to me why frog legs which have been fried taste a little bit like mush until you put salt on them, and then all they taste like is salt?

Thank you for your time.

Abound

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Abound: (v.) Exist in large numbers or amounts.

I abound in pounds.

That nearly rhymes.

I was trying to think about all the things I abound in. For a brief season in my life, I abounded in money. Without sounding like an absolute nerd or a ditz, I didn’t particularly find the experience to be any different from having just enough money to meet your needs–because unless you plan to do excessive things that you really don’t require, like order in Red Lobster every night to be delivered by a valet service, let’s be honest: clothes are clothes, food is food and a place to sleep is all about your pillow.

The fun I had with money when I abounded in it was giving it away–which is why I no longer abound. Some folks think I should have thought ahead and kept some  money on balance, so that I would always be well-to-do instead of just temporarily well-to-do, and now mere mortal.

But if you remember, in Superman II, Clark Kent was willing to give up all the powers of Krypton to get a peek at Lois Lane‘s byline. So even if you’re a superhero, you might be willing to forfeit your abounding for something more important.

People are always talking about America abounding in wealth, education and freedom. I suppose so–but abounding isn’t nearly as much fun if you can’t share with others. And I never met a selfish person who really thought he or she WAS abounding–even when it was obvious they had much more than they needed.

So what IS abounding?

I guess abounding is the day that you feel comfortable in your own skin, and everything you really need … is inside there.

ABO

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

ABO: (n.) A system of four basic types–A, AB, B and O–into which human blood may be classified, based on the presence or absence of certain inherited antigens.

I realize that I would make a terrible vampire.

I would be great with the intellectual pursuit–in other words, studying the types of blood, speculating on the various textures or flavors. Occasionally at a dinner party, I might pull off sipping some of the hemoglobin, to be fashionable or even fun-loving. But I could never be a guzzler.

I think the teeth bother me, too. Talk about telegraphing your intentions–with two pointy incisors protruding from your jowls!

I don’t particularly like the hours, either. I work best in the morning, and after midnight, I kind of zone out.

I guess I am one of those weirdos who never understood the romantic or sexual energy from the whole vampire thing. In the midst of pleasure, I really don’t want to be bitten. If that makes me the non-adventurous type, then so be it. I especially would not want to be chewed on if the goal was to drain my blood. Isn’t a certain amount of blood circulation necessary to achieve pleasure?

I guess vampires confuse me.

The only advantage they have seems to be immortality, but if you end up working a blood-sucking job, what’s the glory of living forever?

I don’t think I’m a fuddy-duddy and if somebody nibbled on my neck a bit in the throes of passion, producing some tingles, it would be fine. But I think I would be a very dishonest vampire. I would have to pretend I was turned on by the look and probably would end up pouring V-8 Juice in my glass to fool my fellow-believers, and also to get my two servings of vegetables.

Yes, blood types are really nice to think about if you need blood. Other than that, it’s kind of icky.

So if there is a choice in the matter, I choose NOT to be a vampire. I’m not really interested in vampires, and I, for one, think Dracula is creepy rather than sexy.

But I guess if you want to be overtaken, bit on the neck and have all your blood drained as a type of foreplay, this is the United States of America–a free country. Go for it.

Not for me. I’m still trying to learn the intricacies and techniques of French kissing.

Abort

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Abort: 1.(v.) Carry out or undergo the abortion of a fetus  2. bring to a premature end because of a problem or fault: the pilot aborted his landing.

No young girl dreams of growing up and being abused by a man.

No little lady talks about how wonderful it will be someday … when she is a prostitute.

No lass with any intellectual bearing breathlessly awaits the day when she can put a mask over her face to disguise her femininity.

No studious teenage girl burns the midnight oil, hoping that someday she can smack her head on the glass ceiling and make 72% of the salary of her male counterpart.

No young woman anxiously envisions a life where she is romantically involved with a man who not only is insensitive to her sexual needs, but insists that his appetites drive him beyond their mutually agreed upon bedroom.

No flourishing young lady aspires to be considered less than the males around her and incapable of sharing spiritual thoughts because she was born with a vagina.

And …

No precious members of the female of our species look up at their mommies with eyes of wonder … and dream of the day that they can have an abortion.

You see? What is absent from our dialogue nowadays is common sense. It is because folks have “pet issues” and allow similar ones to remain strays.

If we had more education, dialogue, intelligence and opportunity made readily available, we would not have to debate prostitution or abortion.

There are only two things I would like to see aborted: ignorance and hypocrisy.

Aborning

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Aborning: (adv.) While being born or produced: The idea died aborning (adj.) Being born or produced: In the 1960’s hippidom was aborning.
You must be “aborn again.”

Well, I don’t know about you, but I need it.

Sometimes I find myself stupidly trying to live within the confines of this tiny little cultural moment that I am squeezed into by the pressure of my society. I am tempted to abandon all of my previous experience and knowledge, and somehow recreate myself as some sort of seed which has recently fallen out of a pod to the earth below.

But that’s NOT me. That is the “me” who walks around frustrated because I feel out of step with a world that wants me to be in step before I dare step out–or else, get stepped on.

Hogwash.

I want to be aborn again. Here’s the life I desire:

  • I want to have the rebellion of the ’60’s deep in my soul–so every time I see an injustice I speak out against it instead of just rolling my eyes and waiting on the world to change.
  • I want to have the joy and revelry of the 1970’s, when we had the common sense to believe that even our suits should be leisurely.
  • Simultaneously, I want to be a family man of the ’80’s, where I treasure the beauty of those close to me and appreciate the opportunity to be part of something nuclear which doesn’t blow up.
  • I am not afraid to take on the technology of the ’90’s, which transformed us from a generation that was “lost in space,” walking around mumbling, “Does not compute,” to full-blown technicians, adept at computers.
  • And I want to carry the true patriotism of the 2000’s, when we regained a sense of what it was to be an American–because American soil was tainted with blood.

I want it all. I don’t want to be some narrow-minded individual, even if that tiny path takes me to a conservative conclusion or a more liberal vista. I want to be a rebellious, joyous family man, hip to technology, who loves my country.
Is that too much to ask? Is that too much to believe? Or are we all just afraid … of too much?

I must be aborn again. Amen.