Word of the Day: chaussure

What's the word I'm thinking of? Today, it's...

chaussure [sho-SUR] (noun) TWITO, page 32

Footgear; shoes

"'I delight in Hessian boots,’ said Rebecca. Jos Sedley, who admired his own legs prodigiously, and always wore this ornamental chaussure, was extremely pleased at this remark...."
--William Makepeace Thackeray, Vanity Fair (1848)

I often wear sneakers (athletic shoes, plimsolls), as I work in a casual place. I also wear leather chaussure, though--no special reason--and feel a bit more grown up at those times, if slightly less comfortable.

Drawing by me!

Head Rattle

I.My book is entitled The Word I'm Thinking Of, which is a phrase from a Beatles song ("The Word"). I discovered today that there's also a song by Sam Radseresht with the same title. (You can hear a sample from it on iTunes.) Meh. I don't think I'll be making it my theme song.

II.I wonder how many Tea Party people actually drink tea, or whether they serve tea at their rallies. They seem much more like Kool-Aid drinkers to me.

III.House flies only live for up to 14 days, I'm told, but I read an interesting article that points out that, to a fly, 14 days might seem like 80 years. They can process nearly seven times as much information in a second as a human -- which is why they are so hard to swat. We seem incredibly slow to them. To a fly, we live as long as giant Sequoias -- trees that thrive for thousands of years. It's all relative, said Professor Einstein. (Fly drawing by me.)

Win, Lose, or Draw

Yeah, I like to draw, when I can find the time. I often can't think of anything to sketch though, so sometimes I just choose any old mundane thing, like this nerdy shirt of mine. I immortalized this garment a few years ago; to date, it's received 217 views on Flickr.com. I don't know where the actual shirt is now, but it lives on as a work of art. Or at least a doodle.

Click on it for a closer view. Deep down, you want to.

Much Ado about NOTHING

When I used to work at home (as a a freelance text engineer) I had a little office set up on the top floor of chez MG here. It's still there, actually, but I almost never use it, not since accepting full-time employment as a cubicle jockey (and text engineer) about five years ago. I had a desk, some bookshelves, a computer and printer, a plug-in coffee pot, and not enough clients. All that, and my aquarium, right next to the computer, so I could watch my tropical fishes swim around and around, getting nowhere, not unlike myself. Since I don't hang out in this office space anymore, the aquarium has become rather neglected of late.

The other day, while chasing the floating corpse of a neon tetra-fish abound the tank with a tiny net, it occurred to me that I should move the whole shebang downstairs, to an underutilized table near the kitchen, where the fishes could be admired and better cared for, and where I'd be shamed into cleaning the tank more often, it being harder to ignore by myself and others. So that's the plan for this weekend. I'm going to have to drain most of the water out, so I can comfortably carry the thing down the stairs. And I may or may not need to temporarily transfer my finny friends to a fish bowl.

I'm going to try to avoid doing that if I can. I don't want to traumatize them. Do fish get PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder)? I always think they have no real memory, at least not in the human sense, since their brains are so tiny. But they seem to recognize me whenever I'm close to the tank and about to feed them. They swim close the the glass, as if in agitated anticipation, like pigs when the farmer comes around with the slop. (How's that for an elegant simile?) No doubt the move is going to rock their little world. But five minutes after it's done, they'll have forgotten it ever happened... I think.

There are a few recollections I'd like to erase so easily, but I'm more like an elephant than a fish when it comes to memory.