"I caught this morning morning's minion."

Darling of daylight's dauphin!!! Sorry. Geekitude.

Being a Buffista means never having to say you're geeky.

Oooh, got this from Wikipedia's entry for metanalysis:

Umpire comes to us from the Middle English "noumpere," which itself is adopted from the Old French "nonper" (someone "without peer" who could act as an arbiter of a dispute).

Word histories can be so fun!

That is absolutely my favorite poem to read aloud ever. Just the beauty of the words and the way they all flow together.

sheer plod makes plough down sillion

Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,

Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermillion.

It's almost a sinfully sensuous poem given the subject matter.

I'm very fond of:

Chieftain Iffucan of Azcan in caftan
Of tan with henna hackles, halt!

Damned universal cock, as if the sun
Was blackamoor to bear your blazing tail.

Fat! Fat! Fat! Fat! I am the personal.
Your world is you. I am my world.

You ten-foot poet among inchlings. Fat!
Begone! An inchling bristles in these pines,

Bristles, and points their Appalachian tangs,
And fears not portly Azcan nor his hoos.

Wallace Stevens, "Bantams in Pine Woods"

Lovely, lovely!

I soo would love a Buffista poetry reading night.

so an orange is a "golden apple".

Kallisti!

"Humble pie" was once nomble pie, a pie made of nombles, i.e., organ meat such as the heart, lungs, liver and intestines. The theory is that it went from "a nomble" to "an omble" and then was conflated with an entirely different word, humble.

I've refrained from commenting on the fact that she has worn the same dress everyday since April.

Good LORD. I had a boss who wore the same colors all the time, so it was a little confusing, but she usually didn't wear the actual same dress more than twice or three times in a week.

I am, per usual, covetous of ita's eyebrows.

I am also exhausted from my shopping trip. I did very good, pretty much only buying things I actually need, but I really can't resist looking at every single thing for sale at Target. Oy.

In metanalysis news, "mine Ed" turns into "my Ned." I guess that's not actually news, but it's all I've got.

Dear opera singer who moved into the apartment above mine,

I hate you.

Sincerely,

Allyson