gress happens

Commenting on a hedgehog blog, I was forced to type a security word:


Gress seems to come from gradi to go, not to be confused with
Frass--that stuff when caterpillars go poop,
or Gross--when a student pees all over the restroom floor.

Digress means to go astray, which is actually what this small student does whenever she uses the restroom.  Often she needs dry clothes to regress to a previous state.

Dad is gressing to a different state.  I arrived about six p.m. to find he had pushed his supper tray away and onto himself, his bed, and the floor. Again.  He was wearing tomato soup and milk way down between his widdle toes.  This particular grinch was not amused to deal with this gradoo.  [See Urban Dictionary  ] Sadly, Dad was able to say he does not have the energy to eat.

Pate de foie gras is a paste made from goose liver, usually with truffles.  I do not smash goose liver, with or without truffles.  I smash rodents and other vermin with a  2" x 10" board in a long night of exhausting dreams. Wake up with very sore arms and shoulders after being a slumber lumber liquidator!  Maybe the dream is telling me I need a mattress with better lumbar support ... or a new blender.

It is Sunday.  Time to get engrossed in a good book, Feathers:  The Evolution of a Natural Miracle, by Thor Hansen.  Time for brunch with a friend, and making fresh nectar for the hummingbird feeder.  I'll watch the US women vs. Japan while Dad naps, and work on my saves when he pushes his dinner tray. Time to smile about the Woolly Mammoth's new job and plans to come visit his old mom.  And time, of course, to pay bills.  It won't be pate, but I'm going to make a cream cheese spread with garlic, walnuts, dill, and black olives.

My old red dictionary has gressorial adj. Zoology.  Adapted for walking or having legs adapted for walking. [New Latin gressorius, from gressor, one that walks, from Latin gradi (past participle gressus), to step, go.  See ghredh-


© 2011 Nancy L. Ruder


Kathleen said...

Love walking with you into the word...digressions!

You might like the book Eros Among the Americans. It has a woolly mammoth on the cover and a poem in it called "Valentine, Texas."

The refusal altogether to eat may be the beginning of something, some new nutrition.

Collagemama said...

Thor Hansen is reminding me that evolution is not a line progression, but more of a web or network. Dad's refusal to eat is not a straight line, either. Some meals he feeds himself and eats well. I will look for the book, thanks.


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