Feeling bad…the opposite of ebullient, which was yesterday’s Word Of The Day…

Firstly, I feel I should apologise to Bec. This realm is as much hers as it is mine and therefore, she should be allowed to come over all nerdy and riddle-ridden here if the mood so takes her. Even if while she’s all “oh goody, a challenge” the rest of us are stricken “oh God I am as stupid as I thought I was”.

Secondly, the title is a confession that I can too be a nerd (if the fact I have a need to be liked and simply didn’t get into trouble at school, except by Mrs Dunlop in Year 11 Geology when Sarah and I finally cracked under all the pressure of the ‘this is going towards your HSC which – if you don’t do well – will end.your.life.as.you.know.it.’ mentality that our school bathed in. Seriously, we were primed for it from 6th grade. I remember one teacher going ashen when I mentioned I might like to be a chef – the only thing worse than a girl not doing her HSC would be a girl going on to study a T.R.A.D.E. – anyway – we got in trouble and were separated and told ‘never to sit next to each other again’ which I recall lasted about three lessons) and subscribe to things such as a word of the day kind of email. Recent words I’ve liked include:

ebullient – which sounds a lot like effluent, and really, that just appeals to my puerile sense of humour

puissant – see comment about sense of humour above.

nosegay – which despite what you may think actually means a bunch of odorous showy flowers. But here’s my question – what is a showy flower – I know there are people out there, sad, lonely people who think a carnation (the 1960s redbrick suburban house of flowers) is showy.

subfusc – again see comment about sense of humour. (it means dark or dull in colour and henceforth any post by me about a poor frame of mind will be headed as such…)

susurrus – which means a whispering or rustling sound, and well, I have a soft spot for words that sound like what they mean.

This morning, Oscar had an orientation session at the school he’s going to next year in a mainstream class. Oh, to see his excitement and happiness and involvement in that classroom! Oh, to hear the teachers say how lovely he is (and express their surprise/relief that ‘there’s no behaviour problems’, as if every special needs child has behaviour issues – but I’m not mounting that high horse today…) it’s V.E.R.Y. exciting indeed.