A Passing to Pause for

Author and illustrator Tasha Tudor died today. She was 92. Corgi lovers will remember her for Corgiville Fair, as well as The Great Corgiville Kidnapping and Corgiville Christmas. Her gentle drawings are immediately recognizable and have provided the artwork for many children's books, in addition to those she wrote.

Proving that one can straddle two eras, she lived in a manner of an earlier time, but was not out of touch with today; her website attests to that.

As much as I'd like to include a photo, I hesitate to set myself up for charges of copyright infringement, so go to her site — or to Amazon — and see what we have lost.

It's a sign of the a'pocalypse

... when the apostrophe has been downgraded to secondary punctuation. I got a new phone this week and, in addition, to having to learn the nooks and crannies of, oh, finding a phone number, I realized that the apostrophe was not where it should have been: five clicks on the 1 key. In fact, it isn't on any key. One of my technical assistants — my 13-year-old — found it in two seconds, buried a couple of screens down. For the record, it's now considered a 'symbol.'

So, here. Take as many as you need:

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Clearly, I won't be needing them anymore. Not for text messages, anyway.

Orange You Done Yet?

Remember this stack o' orange?


I finally cast on for a Weekend Jacket, one of the Knitting Pure and Simple patterns. I'd hoped to get the bulk of the body done tonight while waiting for the breeches and saddle pads that were in the wash, but I guess I won't. And this is why:


Blossom won't leave it alone. Every time I set it aside to run down the basement to check on my good friend Ken More, she settles in — and I have to pry her loose, claw by claw. I do not want to get snags, so for tonight, she wins. I'll have to call this sweater the Orange Blossom Special. nyuk, nyuk, nyuk.


Yes, you're right. It isn't very funny.

Now for a bit of a mea culpa. I posted something the other day that I'd gotten in an email; apparently it's a hoax of some kind, called the Washington Post Mensa Invitational. Shame on me for not checking it out more thoroughly. I spiked the post, but hoax or not, it's darn funny, so I'm reviving it. It's a terrific round of wordplay:

Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.

Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.

Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people, that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The Bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period of time.

Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.

Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.

Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

Hipatitis: Terminal coolness.

Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease.

Karmageddon: It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.

Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.

Glibido: All talk and no action

Dopeler Effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly — or when you're drunk.

Arachnoleptic Fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.

Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out

Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you're eating.

Ignoranus: A person who's both stupid and an asshole.