Thursday, December 11, 2008

Grandpa the Poet

Sometimes Grandpa doesn't quite get the right word. I don't hold it against him; he's eighty five years old, for Pete's sake, and has had TIA's, after all. ( Transcient Ischemic Attacks...or if you like, strokes.) And very often the slip twixt the brain and the lip can be quite comical.

The other day I was sleepily eating breakfast to the mellifluous sound of a chainsaw somewhere in the neighborhood. I commented on its dulcet tones to the other occupants of the breakfast table- Grandpa and Aiden. However, Grandpa was not convinced that it was a chainsaw. He thought it might be one of those things that "...sweeps...clouds... or seeds." Strangely enough, I knew instantly that he was talking about a leafblower. I don't know what was funnier - his words, or the fact that I understood them perfectly.

It was a much more interesting way to say it, rather than just "leafblower." Sounded kind of poetic.

1 comment:

Soj said...

Can I just say that I love that you used the word "mellifluous"? EVERY time I use that word, people stare at me as if (a) I'm crazy and made up a word again or (b) I've unknowingly used a word from one of the several languages floating around in my head while speaking an otherwise English sentence.

It's an English word! And I didn't make it up! And it's a BEAUTIFUL word! And now I can prove all of that...cause Claire uses it too.