Warning: This post has little to do with writing. In fact, it probably has nothing to do with writing – except that I’m writing it.
What does every man need?
Quite a few things, I dare say. Generally most of those “needs” could easily be reclassified as “wants”.
In my opinion, however, there is one thing this man needs: a good pair of slippers. After a hard day’s work there are few more comforting or relaxing things as a good pair of comfortable slippers.
Now I haven’t had a proper pair of slippers in several decades. Instead I have replaced slippers with Ugg boots, that wonderful Australian invention with its soft fleecy lining that ease any aches in the feet and is deliciously warm in the winter, cool in the summer and just about perfect for the rest of the year.
Sadly, my old pair of Ugg boots met an unfortunate end recently; they were thrown unceremoniously into the rubbish bin accompanied by rapturous applause from She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed. (I made that last bit up – the bit about the applause.) My wife has been encouraging me to find a suitable replacement pair for longer than I care to remember. The fleecy lining had been flattened many years ago. The side of one had developed a rip to rival the San Andreas Fault and the outsides no longer looked in prime condition. They could have been mistaken for a oddly shaped refugee from a compost heap.
I tried. I really tried to find a replacement pair but extensive searches and numerous test fittings of potential replacements unearthed nothing suitable. (To be honest, I only went to one local store, and then only tried on about 3 pairs.) Imagine my delight, and my wife’s approval, when I found a pair recently that not only felt comfortable as to size, but also reminded me what I had been missing for so many years.
They are wonderfully comfortable.
Just perfect for relaxing every evening. Don’t know why I didn’t throw the old ones away several years ago.
Read more about Ugg boots here.
I love playing with words.
I really enjoy using simple, everyday words in new ways and seeing what happens. This is the amazing thing about being a writer. You can take ordinary words and make something extraordinary: a poem, a story, an idea for a novel, a song, an inspirational piece or something that gets up someone’s nose like an annoying insect in one’s ear.
I also love using puns. Now, on occasions this tendency riles people just a tad. Sometimes I get a laugh, sometimes a groan and occasionally a disapproving glare. You get that.
On rare occasions I come up with a little gem; well, I think it’s funny. Like this one:
A few weeks ago my wife wrote “Loose tea” on her shopping list on the fridge. I knew she actually meant “leaf tea” – not tea bags -but the cheekiness within prompted me to add another entry underneath: “Slightly more moral tea”. I just couldn’t resist.
Fortunately my wife saw the funny side and actually laughed out loud.
The risk was worth taking.
I had a rather strange encounter with a honey bee recently. It’s behaviour still puzzles me.
A few weeks ago I was sitting on our back veranda enjoying the morning sun on a coolish day and partaking of my morning cup of coffee. I also had a good book to read and all was right with the world.
My enjoyment of the day, the coffee and the book was rudely interrupted by a buzzing bee. It came up close to my coffee mug on the table, hovering only millimetres from the bright blue flowers painted on it. The bee did several close circuits of the mug and decided that the flowers weren’t the genuine sort and with no prospect of a feed.
It then proceeded to hover as close as several centimetres from my face, as if checking to see if I might be a source of nectar. It did this for about ten seconds before flying off to more promising places.
Perhaps it was chastising me for not having real flowers on my coffee mug.
I needed a small snack this afternoon.
Nothing unusual about that. I usually have a light snack mid afternoon – it’s my way of managing my diabetes so I don’t have a hypo just before dinner.
I had to open a new packet of cracker biscuits. Accidentally I tried to open the bottom of the box. My attention was drawn to the words: “Open other end”.
That’s quite a demand, but it set me thinking. What if I refused? What if I rebelled? What if I opened the wrong end of the box?
If I followed my instincts and my sometimes perverted sense of humour, what laws would have I broken? Is it against local council by-laws? Perhaps I’d flaunted a little known state or federal ordinance. Had I broken some important international treaty?
Suitably warned, I took the safe, soft option and obeyed.
I enjoy reading the works of writers who say things differently.
It is so easy to slide into clichés, to over use words and especially phrases and expressions which are so old and familiar that their corpses are not only rotten; they smell worse than a skunk sprayed dog before it’s been washed.
It is a rare event when a politician, public figure or some other prominent citizen comes up with something arrestingly original. I laughed out loud earlier this week when I heard someone say, in reference to our federal government, the following words:
“They promised us the world, but they just showed us a picture of an atlas.”
More power to the people out there not content to squirm in the mud of mediocrity, but make an effort to create new ways of making their point.