It is a lovely, rainy afternoon, perfect for reflecting upon those words that make us raise one eyebrow, make us think and remember. Along the creek, where I was when rain began, each drop produced a little ringing noise on the water. Then, as drops got bigger, they became French and made deeper, more substantial pluies. I know there is a Norma-photo of a daffodil up there but let's first examine this bit of onomatopoeia.
La pluie désigne généralement une précipitation d'eau à l'état liquide tombant de nuages vers le sol. Well, you know that. What I have always found enchanting is the French word for rain, pluie. It's so much more fun to run indoors after a long dry spell and shout, "There's plooey out there!" If you remain in the rain as it pours in earnest you find pluies compound to roars, and that's when language gets fun and aerobic and soaks your head. I admire the French; they must have so much fun just saying things.
Since learning I share 33% of my genetic code with daffodils I consider them relatives. Norma's photo shows a brilliant specimen asserting itself in gravel. Daffodils are strong and beautiful and I am proud to be related to them. They make me happy but they have enemies: aphids, bulb-flies, scale-mites, nematodes, snails, slugs and thrips! Still, they seem to live as long whether one assaults these irritants with pesticides or not --that is strength and artistic restraint. My human relatives host a greater catalogue of vermin than daffodils but that is just showing off. Do I throw them out for the odd tick, flea or genital rodent? Yes, to my credit, I do.
Presbycusis is the loss of ability to hear high frequencies as one ages. It begins in early adulthood, but does not usually interfere with ability to understand conversation until much later.
Thought I'd tell you about my vision checkup yesterday. No change this year, just like last year and 5 years before that. Dr. Green and I see each other around --his kids and my grandson attend the same school. He was standing with me, at his receptionist's counter after my examination, as she scheduled my next appointment. With her head turned away from me toward her computer, she asked, "Did the doctor violate you?"
I was taken aback and said, "Pardon me?"
At which point Green says, "Yes, I did." Then hurried off to the examination rooms to see other patients.
Receptionist bent down, opened a drawer and said, "Well, since the doctor violated you, you'll need these to go outside."
She came up with a pair of spectacles made of tagboard and dark plastic.
When I got home, I had Norma say the words "violated" and "dilated" with her back to me. Sure enough, I've been reading lips without even knowing it.