Absconding

So there are any number of things that I have absconded with over the years.  Nothing for which I can be prosecuted but treasured bits of phrases and words that I use to build cabled bridges between me and others.  Bridges that may not stand the test of time but, even when the relationship has caused the bridge to become too unsafe to use any longer, still exist.

Plus I really like the word abscond.  Current usage defines it as: to depart in a sudden and secret manner, esp. to avoid capture and legal prosecution.  Its original meaning was to hide or stow away.  My absconding actually doesn’t have much of the secrecy flavor so I’m not really using the word correctly.  But the texture of the word? Ah.

What. Do You Think. You’re Doing. This is one of my favorites.  It comes with hand gestures and a bend-at-the-waist movement both of which I’ve added for emphasis.  The punctuation in this phrase is critical – the periods are truly hard stops.  One of my very favorite people in all the world gave it to me – my grandson, Isaac.  We were driving somewhere together and were stopped at an intersection which had lots of construction.  It was really difficult to get a break in the oncoming traffic so we could pull out.  Isaac was chattering in the back in his car seat.  When I started paying attention to what he was saying it was perfect:  “All you drivers!  What. Do you think. You’re doing.”

Monkey Knife Fight Ale.  This is a wonderful citrus-y flavored summer seasonal ale brewed by the Nodding Head Brewery in Philadelphia.  Besides being a great ale, it’s fun to say and to think about.  Monkey knife fights.  I actually don’t know if they even still brew this or not.

Liber and his sister, Mary. Ok think about it.  Liber and his sister, Mary.  Liberace and his sister, Mary-achi.  Thanks to “Who’s line is it anyway?”, a particularly irreverent show that is now in re-run status.

Full-moon days.  Yeah you know what those are.

Shoulder drop-off. In the midst of highway construction and repair, you frequently see signs telling you where to drop off your shoulders.  I’m not sure how you do that or why you would need to but it’s always good to know where.  I suppose.

There are others.  Many others.  I love the subtle turn of phrase and the texture of well-written prose that captures the smile of thought and alternative of imagination.  I hope that the demand for brevity which technology usually requires doesn’t cause us to also lose richness but instead makes us more tightly focus our words as an outlet for our play.