Emerging from the chaos of vacation and the enchanting company of family from afar, I sit, in front of the computer, to fulfill my WoD’ly duties.

Inspired by a conversation with my brother-in-law, I give you…

Today’s Word:

nasute

As in:

Today geneticists excitedly revealed that they have solved a problem that practically no one knew existed: cows that make their own sauces.

The scientists have conquered the age-old dilemma of pre-dressing cattle with sauces designed to enhance their flavors. Some have been created with gravy flowing through their veins, while others have ketchup and mustard. A few have been coaxed into self-basting with lovely red wine sauce, and others are flowing with BBQ sauce.

Customers can soon expect to fine pre-corned beef, at a significant discount to the traditionally corned meat, as genetic corning is done slowly, over time, the all-natural way, and requires naught but butchering before going to market.

The scientists admit they are encountering some difficulty with pre-rubbed beef, as the concentration of herbs and spices required to achieve the appropriate affect interferes significantly with the life processes of a cow, making it difficult for oxygen and other nutrients to flow through the veins.

Pre-brined cows also have difficulty staying hydrated, as the solution gradient pushes moisture into the muscle and away from the organs, which has led to complications.  The scientists stipulate that ranchers seeking to raise this breed have adequate water reserves to keep the cattle onto maturity.

One scientist has been working on a supra-condiment cow, which appropriately matches the cut of beef to the most appropriate condiment. That is, a cow with BBQ sauce in the rib region, simply salt and pepper on the tenderloin, gravy on the chuck, corning for the brisket, and fajita seasoning on the skirt steak. So far, she has not had much success, as the sauces seem to blend indiscriminately, making for inedible and unattractive meat.

Some ranchers are concerned about breeding these cattle, and how does one keep the various types of condiment cattle apart. The scientists recommend hiring a nasute person to smell the cattle and determine the condiments contained within. They especially caution the ranchers about the hazards of breeding a rib cow with a red wine cow, as the resulting match-up is beyond horrifying.

****************

My brother-in-law, not really a fan of covering meat with condiments, inspired this story with the following statement: “If God had wanted us to put condiments on stuff, he’d have made the stuff *with* the condiments.” I, of course, imagined cows with ketchup in their veins, hot and cold running mustard, all that stuff. It’s a sickness, I know.

nasute / naa – SUIT / Having an acute sense of smell.

I am officially exhausted, just so you know. I am fairly certain I need to have a vacation from my vacation.

Today’s story was inspired by the first “face-to-face” date night, as the three of us spent a night running wild in Pueblo. Well, it was really pretty tame. We went to dinner and then bowling.

Today’s Word:

repine

As in:

They lived in tiny cells, in pairs, waiting for someone to take them. Usually, it was only for a few hours at a time. Each trip to the outside was more fearful than fantastic; there was a great deal of uncertainty with every opportunity. Would they have to deal with a hideous stink? Would someone try to force themselves under the skin, with appendages far too large for the cavity provided? Would there be a spill or other nuisance? All of these were very real possibilities.

Of course, in the right situation, it was nice to be put to good use. Sometimes the people were kind and gentle, without unpleasant smells or unreasonable expectations of size. It was good not to be forced to fit around an impossibly large foot. Why did people do this? It seemed to be mostly women, but, sometimes men, too. And men were almost always the foulest of the foul smelling examples.

It was best not to repine. Life in the cells was better if you didn’t think about it much. Complainers didn’t last long in the trenches, and your mind off it all. It really was better to keep your mouth shut, a After being taken out, there was also the toxic spray of anti-fungal and anti-odor chemicals. If you were unlucky enough to have allergies, well, you didn’t last long on the inside.

Many had been here so long, they were on their 18th set of laces. No matter how many sets you went through, it was always unpleasant to have them changed. Worse, you might experience a slow wasting of the thin, cheap cords, shuttering every time they were pulled taut, hoping not to feel or hear the ominous sound of a snapping cord. It was a devastating sound for a shoe, and could mean it was soon to be the afterlife for them, when the season changed.

It was always better, too, when the user had had a good day. There was always food, and when in a good mood, the borrower usually didn’t remove you from their foot without first untying the cords. This saved much wear-and-tear on the cords, and prevented breakage more effectively.

Some days, it is too hard to bear, being trapped in this line of work, other days, it feels like salvation. In the right moments, it is quite enough to be working the bowling lanes as a shoe for hire.

**************

I am literally dozing as I finish this. It is time to go to bed.

repine / reh – PINE / to feel or express dejection or discontent : complain

I’m technically on vacation, but, not on vacation from you, my loyal readers. Well, I did tack yesterday off. It was Memorial Day.  I’m hanging out with out of state family, so, I made my mom pick the today’s word.

This story was inspired by our trip to the infamous Casa Bonita last night, my sister suggested it, a true family affair.

For those of you that have never heard of Casa Bonita, well, this link about sums it up. You DO NOT go for the food. It’s horrifying. It didn’t use to be, but, they’ve now got a reputation to keep. We go because my nephews think it is heaven. They also are young enough to order the kid’s chicken strips, which are probably the best thing on the menu because they aren’t made there, but bought and just thrown in a fryer to heat. Well, ok. The sopapillas are terrific.

Today’s Word

mingy

As in:

Tonight on Kitchen Nightmares, Gordon Ramsay visits the infamous Casa Bonita, a Mexican Restaurant hidden in the suburbs of Denver. The restaurant is famous for two things: its 30 foot waterfall, and the worst Mexican food known to man.

Like every visitor to the restaurant, Gordon waited in line to order his entree. All guests must order an entree, it’s the admission price. All meals come with all you can eat sopapillas.

As he approaches the order taker, before he has beheld a single dish, he decides to order the “All You Can Eat” beef platter. Little did he know that the phrase “All You Can Eat” is more of a threatening challenge than a marketing term.

After getting his meal, and placing it on his tray, he is escorted to a prize location near the waterfall. Gordon cannot be fooled or distracted into believing the food in front of him is actually edible. He picks at it for a moment, says a prayer to stave off food poisoning, and takes a bite. He spits it out.

Raising the flag, he summons the waitress to his table.

“Can I get you another taco, sir?” says the waitress helpfully.

“No. Please. No. I think I just lost five years of me life in tasting that. Frankly, I’m fairly certain there can be no beef in this beef. I’ve seen more appetizing items in my own pig sty, when the pigs have been taken out of the pen. People pay $14 for this? This makes Taco Bell look like upscale fine dining food. ”

“Yes, sir. Maybe I should bring you some sopapillas. They’re good. It’d probably be best if I take this away.”

He nods, and covers it in a napkin, a simple “burial” to protect the viewer from having to view the mess again.

She returns and places the dessert in front of him, a basket of golden, piping-hot delight. He looks taken aback. “These came from the same kitchen as that horse sh–, um, meat?”

She swallows. “Well, not exactly. They’re made over there.” She points to the sopapillas station, where a single person was cutting and frying the dough into magical treats.

Gordon added honey and took a bite. “Those are quite good. How can you serve food of such disparate standards? I’ve smelled dog food that is more appealing than that plate of crap you sat me here with. Now, don’t be mingy, I want another basket of these. They might be terrible for your health, but, they are delicious. I need to get rid of that vile taste, and possibly get my entire meals worth in these things.”

*********************

I’m not entirely sure this is fiction. My sisters both tried the chicken fried steak this time around. Which both said was far better than their previous meals. Not good, but better. Sad that the best things on the menu of a Mexican restaurant are not at all Mexican. Except the sopapillas.

mingy / MEN – gee / mean, stingy

This is the first story in weeks for which I had a real idea before I sat down to write it. I hope that it is a sign of things to come. I wish you all a wonderful Memorial Day weekend. I am only asking that I can get what I need to get done done, and that there is some sleep in that proposition somewhere.

Today’s word:

exigent

As in:

As NBC continues to struggle to gain momentum in the ratings, and their most recent experiment to have the Jay Leno show before the news failed, the network’s executives today announced that they have decided to have the Today show run all day, excepting their regular news broadcasts.

To accomplish this exigent feat, NBC is revealing that they have managed to clone their morning team, and will be using the clones in sifts to cover the additional broadcast hours.

The clones of Matt Lauer, Meredith Viera, and Al Roker, are even conveniently matured to 10 years younger than their original counterparts, are a miracle of current science. Apart for the younger chronological age, they are identical to their parents.

NBC, however, is not revealing the secret cloning techniques used to create the team new sets of hosts, however, they have revealed that the clones are being paid little more than room and board.

NBC’s daily schedule, after 6 hours of The Today Show, will include a new soap featuring one set of clones and a reality show, which will go into the clone house, where viewers can see the three sets of clones interacting with each other in the same living environment.

According to a network spokesperson, the company literally owns the clones. The clones are protected in the clone house, and provided with all the means for survival, without actually being allowed to leave.

Insiders say that the network is employing hypnotists to keep the clones believing they are well-paid morning show stars, and to keep them from remembering their original people had children and families and homes. It is unclear what story the hypnotists are telling them regarding the 2 other people who in their house that look and act identically to each other.

While this proposal will fill all of NBC’s daily programming slots, the network is going to stick with their announced prime time schedule for the moment. This is to give the Jay Leno clone a bit longer to mature to the correct age, at which point, the Tonight Show will run immediately after then Today Show ends. These proposals, once the initial cost of the clones are factored out, will save the network billions of dollars, making it profitable, even if they only have a few thousand viewers.

***************
Well, the idea made me laugh out loud, to myself, in the restaurant today. I got looks and everything. I hope you enjoyed it, but, managed to avoid those looks, because, wow, awkward.

exigent / ex – eh – GENT / exacting, demanding, pressing

Desperation is forcing this idea to show up way before I was ready to shove it out of my brain-nest. That sounds pretty gross, actually.  Well, premature ideas or not, I’ve got to get this out so I can get back to the Slayerfest party parade. I might even get to sleep sometime.

Today’s Word:

rebarbative

As in:

A crowd has gathered for the opening arguments in the latest even capturing the attention of the media and concerned people all over the world.

“Hear ye, Hear ye! The Court of Public Opinion is now in session. Honorable Judge Judy presiding. Case number 199838765441, People versus British Petroleum. All Rise!”

“The first matter in this case: The defendant has been charged with falsifying reports of the severity of the natural disaster caused by the collapse of their drilling platform in the Gulf of Mexico. Further, the defendant is charged with deliberately refusing offers of assistance from willing fisherman, the federal government, and charitable organizations, making suspect their claims that the volume of oil contaminating the ocean is not as significant as indicated by everyone who is not a representative of British Petroleum.”

“In addition, the defendant is charged with willful disregard for the public’s demand for, at the very least, an appearance that the defendant possesses an appreciation for the magnitude of the problem the oil spill has caused. The public also demands an end to the shifting of responsibility from party to party, and that BP demonstrate an inkling that the phrase “all legitimate claims,” means something tangible to the affected parties, instead of sounding like an attempt to deflect repeated questions by representatives of the media and the government.”

“How does the defendant plead?”

“Not Guilty”

A violent outcry erupts from the crowd, as boos and shouts fill the air. The judge allows it.

After the requisite 25 minute “get it off your chest” stage of the trial, The judge motions the crowd to stop.

“Did you want to alter your plea? The crimes described here are rebarbative, and its likely that the punishment and outcry will  get worse before it gets better.”

“No, your honor. We stand by our plea.”

The shouting erupted yet again, this time laced with threats to coat the defendants in their own oil and dispersant, followed by a cleaning, and secondary coating, to fully allow the lesson to sink in.

“Very well then. The public has spoken. British Petroleum has been found guilty of crimes against the public. Sentencing to be a long and painful process, but, not nearly as satisfying as the plaintiffs would like it to be.” Judge Judy banged her gavel. “Court is adjourned.”

**********************
I have learned that the more tired I am, the more time these take to write. Who knew? Right.

rebarbative / re – BARB – at -ive / repulsive, off-putting, daunting

I’ve sorta revamped this story, which was originally written in honor of the 200th Word of the Day story. I’m now well over 400, and I failed to commemorate that milestone several weeks ago, on account of the fact that between my network meltdown and the business of writing stories and not tracking them as well as I used to, well, I failed to realize I’d achieved that number. 

Today’s Word:

niveous

As in:

“Today on the Oprah Winfrey show, our special guest is Kate Barnes, author of the phenomenal new book, ‘A Moment of Stillness,’ which has set a new record of 1,840 weeks on the New York Times bestseller list. But she is perhaps more well-known for ‘The Word of the Day,’ a daily piece of humorous prose in syndication and carried in over 1,500 newspapers daily. Please welcome her today.

“Kate, I must admit, that while I loved your new book, I am, first and  foremost, a huge fan of your ‘Words of the Day.'”

“Thanks, Oprah, I enjoy them myself. For a long time, they were the only
creative writing I did on a regular basis. They really helped me to develop my writing habit, and forced me to spend time everyday in creative pursuits.”

“Any favorites?”

Well, I think many of my early readers would agree with me and say that one  of the best stories was the one which involved this really interesting talking bird. It would tell these fantastic stories, but then one day, it was cursed with aposiopesis…”

“The breaking off in the middle of a story?”

“That’s it. It was one of the few stories that were inspired by the word
itself. Of course, others liked the disturbing, iconoclastic type of tales
like the one which described the site of Humpty Dumpty’s death like A CSI-style murder scene. Or tales where the story is inspired by current events. In one recent story, I commented on the current economic crisis, and talked about how those who’d caused the mess were rewarded, while those that had done what they should’ve done were, essentially, punished.”

“Sometimes you fill these little stories with such delightful descriptions.
One of my favorites is the description of the snow in the story you wrote
about the woman who shot the strange man looking out the window as snow is falling .  Or the one about the pen dying, lonely and forgotten in the new world of word processing. They’re downright literary.”

“Thank you. Sometimes I’m inspired, especially about describing a niveous scene. There’s something pretty powerful about snow, I think.”

“How do you come up with these ideas? They are always so interesting!”

“Sometimes it’s hard. Every once in a while, I have to really stretch. I
occasionally get pretty desperate. Like when it came to the 200th word. I had to resort to that tiresome T.V. convention for a long running  eries. I had to run a prose version of ‘a clip show.’ Of course, I could only use that gambit once. After that, it loses any semblance of creativity.”

*************
Yup. A prose “clip-show.” Of course, with Oprah moving to her OWN channel. I doubt I will get on her show, but, it’s nice to think big, right?

niveous: / NI-ve-ous / snowy, snowlike.

It is towel day, and I spent most of the day far away from such things, which means my hoopiness* is going to never achieve froodhood*. Tuesdays. I could never get the hang of Tuesdays. Or maybe, it’s just my sanity is more than a little suspect. Or all of the above.

So, the intro went well, don’t you think? I picked out a word. I just wish I had something to go with it.

Today’s Word:

lepid

As in:

If you’ve ever parked your car in a parking lot, the following story will be disturbing. It is meant as a warning, and this publication will not be held responsible for phobias or neurosis which may develop as a result of this story.

Drivers around the country have begun reporting mysterious evidence of sabotage appearing in and around their vehicles, after leaving them for long periods in parking lots or garages. The evidence includes trash left within the vehicle, bearing no resemblance to trash left by the owner, headlights left on, depleting the battery, and doors, trunks and hoods left slightly ajar.

As the number of incidents has grown, security cameras have been tasked to discover whether the problem is due to a bunch of mischievous pranksters, or is simply a matter of driver absentmindedness.

Unfortunately, the surveillance reveals something far more sinister than either of these scenarios.

The cameras have captured a race of heretofore unknown creatures, gremlins that can access vehicles with small hand tools. The creatures exhibit deft skills with slim jims and wires, leaving no trace of their tampering. They are less than one foot tall, and have long arms and fingers. The creatures break into cars in groups of 4-8, and tinker with the buttons and settings, then, with a preternatural sense of when the owner of the vehicle will be returning, they set most of the car back to the state they had found it, and sneak out of the car before they are spotted. The creatures seem to sense the exact moment when human eyes might spy them, and they hide instantly, which likely explains their ability to have stayed unnoticed by humans.

While the creatures look lepid, with their small, child-like features, they clearly have the skill to do damage to cars, and their true motives are unclear. Viewing the creatures on the tapes, the investigators have felt that the gremlins knew they were being recorded, and they exuded an undercurrent of malevolence, hinting that they could do anything they wanted to any vehicle, and they didn’t care that humans knew. The attitude of arrogance seemed to be a challenge to the humans, and seemed to say “go ahead and try to stop us. You’ll never succeed.”

It is unclear why the creatures have taken to “joy-sitting” in cars, or why they occasionally leave trash in the cars, or headlights turned on, but, as research continues to be gathered, it appears that these creatures are accessing thousands of cars every single day. The creatures have not been witnessed by any human, and many say the video evidence has been faked. It rrmains to be seen if the car gremlins will ever be proven to exist.

***************
Well, Tuesday is now behind us. Wednesday is here, and the clock is ticking. Always ticking.

lepid / lep – ID / charming, amiable

*If you are confused by hoopy or frood, well, I’ll let you off the hook.  In The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, hoopy is defined as “a really together guy,” and a frood is defined as “a really amazingly together guy.” Of course, I sorta fail at “guy.”

In the last few nights, television bid adieu to two of its legends: 24 and Lost. It was all very bittersweet, and we are left with the May sweeps let down. So, thinking very much about the ending of these two icons of fine television, I give you the crossover to end all crossovers (until I come up with some other idea), in which Jack Bauer invades Lost.

Of course, I did one earlier, but, I’ve got no other ideas, and this one is totally different from that one. Really, I’m just being green. Recycling my own ideas, turning them into something new.

Today’s Word:

impavid

As in:

Eighteen hours into the ninth longest day of Jack Bauer’s life, a promising lead has been captured, and Jack has settled into his usual interrogation  mode. The criminal, who is almost to be pitied,offers the only hope of preventing a terrible, convoluted, terror plot from coming into fruition.

The interrogated criminal, hanging from the ceiling from his hands, looking more like a side of beef in a butcher shop, has just given Jack the name of his contact.

“Get the President on the phone, Chloe. I have some news about the bomb, and she’s not going to like it.”

“Jack, I have the “President on the line.”

“Mr. President, I don’t have time to explain, but, I’ve just gotten credible evidence that the source of the time travel field is some island. It’s not on any chart, and…” He trailed off, an idea flitting onto his mind. “Wait, one second, sir. I do have the time. It’s a time travel device. We could prevent this thing from ever happening. Of course, if I used it, Events would not unfold in real time. Hmm.”

Jack turned to his companion, who is barely conscious. “Look. You’re going to tell me how to use this device.”

The poor man sneered weakly. “Why would I tell you that? You’re just going to shoot me anyway. You don’t want to use that thing. Really. You can’t imagine how it will mess with your mind, or the universe, and all that crap. And no one will be able to follow you.”

Jack looked frustrated. “If I’d have wanted to kill you, you’d be dead already. You have my word that you will live to see tomorrow.” Jack, alwas impavid, took a deep breath. “Look.Time travel doesn’t scare me. What does is the thought of one of those devices going off in this city. I will find out out how to use this device, and I will use it to get some rest for once on one of these marathons. Also, maybe a snack and shower.”

“Chloe! Get me a satellite feed on the Island! Linus was last seen there, and he *knows* how the bomb got onto the subway!”

“Jack! I’m working on it. That island is not exactly easy to pinpoint. I have to not only guess where it is, but, *when.* It’s not exactly easy.”

“I have something that will help. It’s the device they use to pop around in time.”

“Jack, that’s great! I’ll have someone get to work on it. Can you upload a picture of the device on your phone?”

“Uploading it now. Do you think I can activate it?”

Chloe shook her head. “I doubt it. It looks like it takes a huge amount of energy, and is likely to cause some sort of huge electromagnetic displacement.” She paused, considering. “Jack, I think this thing *is* the bomb. They planned to send the island of Manhattan into the past!” 

The clock ticked the final seconds of the hour, then faded to silence.

******************
I think that’s not too bad for tonight. Until tomorrow.

impavid / IM – paav – id / fearless, unafraid.

I had something of a family emergency tonight, so, I am very late with this story, and will admit, it’s something of a re-run.  I’m feeling very glad to have such fine people in my life.

Today’s Word:

perdue

As in:

As the military conflict in Iraq continues to have the attention of the U.S. and NATO, the  allies are considering several plans to improve the outcomes in training the Iraqi forces, to be able to hand the country back to a more effective fighting force.  

While many disagree about the strategies of the troop surges, and the logistics of the eventual draw-down, still others are debating the kind of training the Iraqis should be given.

Among the training protocols suggested, based upon the lawsuit filed against the makers of violent video games, is a daily regimen of 3 hours a day playing “Doom” and 3 hours a day playing “Quake.” Fighter pilots will be expected to spend 3 hours a day playing “Descent” and “X-wing” in addition to the standard “Doom” requirements.

The developers of this training protocol cite school shootings as evidence of the efficacy of such games in the education and training of children as marksmen. The argument is based upon the fact that Michael Carneal, the suspect in the Paducah, Kentucky shooting had never, until the day he went to school with a gun, handled or fired a weapon. The only experience Carneal had with “shooting” was in playing the games “Doom” and “Quake.”

The most telling aspect of the educational value of these games is that Carneal, inexperienced though he was, fired eight times, and hit with every single shot — a remarkable feat of marksmanship, especially given that the students were moving quickly and instinctively away from the path of their unstable classmate, and sought perdue locations as refuge.

“If we can achieve results even half as good as these with the Iraqi forces, we’ll be home by Christmas,” says Army spokesperson Ken Carson. “I think we owe the Iraqis the best training we can provide, and this seems to that training. ”

***************

I am willing to admit this story is old enough that I had to do more re-writing than I expected, but, hey, that just means it’s fresher, a second edition, one that has never been seen in this form, which is totally different than an actual re-run.

perdue / per-DOO / 1. out of sight, concealed, esp. as in a military ambush. 2. (obscure) a soldier on an especially dangerous mission.

So, I was *this* close to throwing in the towel tonight, and admitting I had no idea what I was going to do, and give into exhaustion and just go to bed. I announced this to my other sister, the one that lives with me, and she made one statement, which became the really flimsy basis for…

Today’s Word:

teleophobia

As in:

“I have no idea for the Word of the Day story,” I said, in a haze of fatigue and desperation.

My sister didn’t look like she’d even been listening to my heartfelt crisis. “What do you mean?”

“I’m tired and it’s late and I have no ideas. I hate to give up, though, only five months into the goal of posting something every day this year. I didn’t even make it through half a year. It’s a shame, but, I don’t know what to do, and t’s late, and I need to go to bed.”

“DO that.”

“Do what? Give up?” There was a simultanious pang:  the hope of absolution mixed with the realization of failure.

“Write a story about not having a story.”

“Huh. ” I paused and thought. “That might work. But, I haven’t even picked a word yet. That’s harder at night. I get pickier for some reason. But, maybe it’d work. It’d work better if I started. Maybe it’ll get better as I get going.” I sat in the chair, and stared at the keyboard. It heckled me.

I noticed that my sister is going to bed. I begin to get jealous. My eyes start to water. I swallow some allergy drugs. I write the intro. The photo booth thing is on Leno tonight, and while I haven’t watched the show pretty much since Jay ousted Conan, I’m a fan of the photo booth thing. It was worth it. That photo booth lady is awesome. The monologue was particularly crappy. I finally find a word, and it looks vaguely promising with the story as it existed in my head an hour ago.

Uh oh. I’ve written half the story, and I have no idea how to put the word into it. I panic. This word doesn’t fit any more! Why did I pick it? Maybe I should go find a new word. 11:30. Crap. No time for that.

Wait a second. That’s it. Having picked a word, I became afraid to use it, or worried that I wouldn’t be able to use it. Picking a phobia was brilliant, and I didn’t even know it! I have just had my first bout of teleophobia. Wow. That’s a new one. I hope it’s not like a medical student getting the disease she’s learning about in her studies. Focus! No time for distraction, you got to proof this puppy, and post it in like 12 different forms! No time for your train of thought to derail.

Should I end it here? I’ve talked about the word, it’s in there, yeah, and I’ve got to proof quick, before midnight, yeah. I think this is as good a place to stop as any. Time to wrap her up, toss in some concluding paragraph, do the posty bit, and sleep. Sweet, wonderful sleep.

**********************
I felt like I was writing an episode of 24, this getting down on the screen in real time, and a pretty accurate peek into how most of these stories go.

teleophobia / tel – LEO – fobe – a / a dread of definite plans.