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| Did you know?
In the days of yore, if you made a "cokes" of someone, you made a fool of them. "Cokes"—a now-obsolete word for "fool"—is believed to be the source of our verb "coax," which was first used in the 16th century (with the spelling "cokes") to mean "to make a fool of." Soon, the verb also took on the kinder meaning of "to make a pet of." As might be expected, the act of cokesing was sometimes done for personal gain. By the 17th century, the word was being used in today's senses that refer to influencing or persuading people by kind acts or words. By the early 19th century, the spelling "cokes" had fallen out of use, along with the meanings "to make a fool of" and "to make a pet of."
Thank you merriam-webster for my word of the day special info. Tomorrow I would like you to tell me what else people did in the days of yore. I assume a lot of yoring considering it labeled the age for centuries. | | |
| Diagnosis: Tacky-cardia
Treatment: More sleep and more class.
Story
Title: The "Ohhh" Factor
Setting: Drive-Thru. Ordered: 1 reg. vanilla shake, 1 lg coffee-mocha shake.
Me: Ok really.... how long does it take? it's just two shakes...
Heather: Yeah.. I mean what else do they make back there? (stops.. looks up.... reads sign) Ohhh.... steaks.
Story
Title: The Force is With Us.
Setting: College Bible Study. Second half of a 6 point series on dating relationships. Points 1-3 were given last Sunday.
Me: Uh-oh. We missed steps one through three...we're never going to make it.
Matt: (without hesitation) Nah... Star Wars started in the middle and it did great.
| | |
| Ode to Zilactin
Zilactin, medicine of medicines
You cheer my heart and heal my lips
from burning to numbing, you ease my grin
Oh wonder of wonders, Zilactin | | |
| Grace speaks to me lately.
She has come to my ears and my heart with stinging precision. She sees and knows and so clearly calls me what I am.
I am loved.
It seems there is an oily residue that is so impossible to rub, scrape, scratch, cut from my skin. And then, as if stepping into an explosion of a shower, not knowing the power or temperature, I am clean.
It's instantaneous.
No oil. No residue. How do I clean this off? No. No worries.
Grace. Does she speak to you? | | |
| He needs the doctor, he needs the good stuff.
"We are all learning to fly.
high, high, and higher."
He love pictures and stories,
but oh, he hates a liar.
He finally figured it all out
Yeah, he says it all because of him,
because he's all the doctors talk about
and they're who he believes in.
Clever, he even knows what your sideward look means.
"No, it's not blame, it's attribution.
It's simply examining the evidence at the crime scene."
But again, those are their words speaking through his confusion.
I ask, what lines are drawn so thick,
that places ourselves within unbreakable cages?
And what an awful, dirty trick
to settle for official names and cocktail changes.
Why do we all need an excuse for examination
and those wretched explanations of the past?
Another problem - that is his fascination:
covering up the darkest truths until his heart won't last.
Now he understands. He has his figures in a row
and they're adding up to precisely what he needs.
"Well, I'll never be fine you know."
And that's how he accepts it
how he haunts
and how he bleeds. | | |
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